Becoming Death (17 page)

I had been watching Harrison closely all week, wondering if Tiara’s death mark had worked. He had already surpassed three days and had to be living on borrowed time. Every time he coughed, tripped or drove anywhere I was sure that was it. I had no idea what Tiara had imagined and I couldn’t help myself from coming up with strange death scenarios when we worked together. My favorite had been Harrison being caught in a stampede of escaped zoo animals. It wasn’t pleasant, but at least it was original.

It was Thursday when I finally got a break from the constant funerals. I needed to catch up on my paperwork. Harrison had stayed behind as well to finish filing Cindy’s old funeral reports. He had volunteered to go through her files out of respect and because they had worked together so often.

“It’s been a crazy week,” Harrison said, breaking our silence.

“I don’t know about you, but I needed today. There’s something about data entry I find relaxing,” I admitted.

“Just don’t get too relaxed. You wouldn’t believe the number of times I’ve fallen asleep typing on this computer. We aren’t meant to stare at screens all day. Give me a sunny outdoor funeral any day.”

The silence returned so I addressed the elephant in the room. “Are you still holding up alright? You seemed to have worked with Cindy a lot, so I guess she was a friend?”

“No, just the luck of the draw. We got along alright and I do miss her, but I wouldn’t have counted her as a friend. She was always funny to watch. I think she did some of the things in her act just to see if she could get a rise out of one of us,” he said, still typing into the form.

I rubbed my cheek. “I think we would have got along eventually, if she’d had more time to get to know me. Did I tell you she was at my former boss’s funeral? That’s when I first saw her.”

He chuckled. “It’s a small world. Even through you didn’t know her long, you should come to the funeral Saturday. Derek thinks we need to stick together, help each other through this, and you should be included in that.”

“I was planning to come anyway. I didn’t want to be disrespectful.” I had killed the woman after all.

“Good.” Harrison continued to type until his screen went black. “Hey, where’d it go?” He pushed at the power button on the monitor but it didn’t turn on.

“Everything okay?” I looked over at him.

“My monitor just shut down. Darn it, I was half way through something. I better not have to start over.”

I was taken aback to hear Harrison swear—he never had in my presence before. The stress of losing Cindy and the extra work must have been getting to him.

I saved my work and walked over to him. He smacked the side of the monitor like a caveman. “Are you sure you didn’t click something?”

“I don’t know, maybe.” He picked up his can of soda and pulled the tab. It sprayed across his shirt and up his arm. He shook his hand. “Seriously, this is not my week.”

“Nope, doesn’t seem that way. Have you tried turning it off and on again?” I asked him.

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Thanks, Bill Gates.”

“Sorry, I can't help then,” I said, going back to my own computer chair.

“Maybe if I unplugged it and plug it back in, it will reset. That always seems to work for my computer at home.”

“Worth a try,” I said, playfully twirling my chair towards him momentarily.

Most people would have dried their hands on their pants or a towel before touching the monitor plug, but Harrison had been distracted. I watched as he sat his can of soda on the edge of the desk and got down on his knees. He crawled forwards, ducking his head under the desk.

“Is this it?” His words were followed by the sudden cessation of the printer powering down.

“Wrong one,” I chimed in.

“We really need to get labels for those things, they all look the same. What about this one?”

The phone next to me started to beep. “Nope.”

He groaned.

“Be careful—don’t pull out my computer's plug. I don’t want to lose my stuff too.”

“I’ve got it.”

Time slowed as I swiveled my chair just in time to see him grab the plug and pull it out. It was stuck, and he snapped back when he forced it out. He bumped his head against the bottom of the desk, knocking his can of soda onto himself and the multi-plug.

“Harrison!” I shouted, reaching for him—but it was too late.

The edge of the plug in his hand made contact with the liquid in the socket. The spark of the electricity shot through his body. I jumped up from my seat as Harrison spasmed violently on the floor until his hair stood up on end. His glasses were thrown from his face. I circled around him, careful not to get too close. The skin of his arm was burnt and his body still shook.

I pulled out my cell phone and dialed for an ambulance. I knew it was pointless and he was already gone, but it felt like the right thing to do. I didn’t want to play this game anymore. I didn’t want to see anyone else I knew die. After speaking to the operator, I wrapped my arm around my torso and waited with the body of my former friend. He deserved to have someone that cared about him with him.

It was a cold rainy Saturday when we buried both Cindy and Harrison. After hearing about Harrison’s death, Derek managed to pull some strings and make his funeral arrangements in tandem with Cindy’s funeral. Since they didn’t have a lot of friends outside of work, it made sense to put the other mourners through only one event.

I sat in the front row with Derek and a few of the other mourners. The turnout was large, with local directors of funeral services turning up to honor two of their own.

Real tears formed in the corner of my eyes and part of me wished I had taken Aaron’s suggestion that someone should come with me. I didn’t want to trouble him, but I wondered if I should have invited Clarissa or my mom instead. I tried to force myself to listen to the service when I saw a figure in black walking towards the seats. She faded into and out of my vision as she walked closer, and I wondered if my eyes were playing tricks on me. I rubbed my eyes as she came into view. A floppy black hat hid her face but I recognized her designer handbag instantly.

I tapped Derek’s hand. “I’ll be right back.”

I wandered to the back of the seats where she stood. “Don’t worry, they can’t see me.”

“I can’t believe you have the nerve to show your face here after what you did. You didn’t have to electrocute him. He was a nice person. He deserved better,” I said.

“Blah, blah, don’t they all. In case you haven’t noticed by now, death isn’t all sunshine and jellybeans,” she said, resting her hand on the chair back.

“He was my friend. You need to leave, right now.”

“Are you going to make me? You already look crazy enough standing back here talking to yourself, adding self-harm probably won’t help,” she told me.

Shaken, I checked no one was watching and lowered my voice. “Just leave. Harrison wouldn’t want someone so cruel at his funeral.”

She raised her hands at me. “Fine, fine, I’ll go, Miss High-and-Mighty. Just a reminder: you killed the other one, so don’t act so innocent.”

I stomped back to my seat and folded my arms.

“You okay?” asked Derek.

My eyes locked on Cindy’s coffin. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

After Cindy and Harrison’s deaths, things got easier both as a mourner and a reaper. I was getting used to my double life. I woke up everyday next to Aaron, ate a lovingly prepared breakfast on the way to the Happy Mourners' morning assignment meeting, attended a couple funerals, tagged one of my victims on my lunch break or after work, and made my way home for evening cuddles and TV marathons.

I felt guilty as I stood over the casket of Albert Filmore, a former CEO of a box factory. We had met two days earlier when I had rear-ended his Porsche. He could barely climb out of the car when he hobbled with his cane to assess the damage. I had exchanged one of Happy Mourners’ business cards for his soul. He called the office to make a booking the next day and promptly ran into a telephone pole an hour later. That’s how I found myself crying over Albert’s coffin pretending to be one of his many ex-lovers.

Five minutes into my act, his ex-wife had threatened to break me in half if I tried to get anything in his will, so I toned it down and went for a silent sad lover act rather than cause any more drama.

My phone buzzed in my clutch as I settled back into my seat. I slid it out, the words
New Client
blinking on the screen. I shivered, wishing it had been a text from anyone else.

I turned around to face Derek. “Is it alright if I skip the wake? Albert’s ex has already threatened me. I don’t want to press my luck.”

Derek examined the ex-wife’s scowl and sighed. “Yeah, go ahead, but let me walk you to your car.”

“Plans for tonight, Clark?” Derek asked, opening the funeral home’s door.

“Not too much, just vegging in front of the TV with my boyfriend. Maybe some
Mario Kart
,” I said.

“Doesn’t he ever take you anywhere nice? Guys are supposed to wine and dine their girlfriends.”

“Don’t even start.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “You just don’t how to have fun.”

“You should let me take you out sometime. I was planning to try out that new Japanese restaurant downtown. I bet you love sushi.” Derek nudged me.

“Nah, I’m more of a pizza and vegging-out-on-the-sofa kind of girl.”

“I bet you even wear a onesie,” Derek said.

A slight chuckle escaped my lips. “Nope.”

“Good. Are you sure I can’t temp you out for the evening? Purely platonic, of course. I just wanted some company,” Derek asked, his face falling slightly.

“I’ll ask Aaron. Maybe we can all go out together sometime,” I suggested, unlocking my car door.

“You drive a hard bargain, Clark, but I’ll take what I can get,” he said, holding the door as I climbed inside.

“See you tomorrow,” I said, shutting the door before giving Derek a slight wave.

Once he walked away I reached for my phone and sighed at the words
New Client
. Bile rose in my throat as I clicked on the link to open up the information page. Another day, another dead body. I started to read through the information for Betsy Mills when the app chimed again:
New Client
. Another one? I clicked on the information, bringing up a separate page of another woman, someone named Melanie Jo Dobromylsky. I shook the phone, expecting answers. Two jobs in one day. What had I done wrong this time?

I switched back to Betsy’s information in the Dead Head app to track her location. My shoulders slumped forwards as I put the car into drive and headed off to visit my first client.