Esprit de Corpse (8 page)

“But I’m not here as your boyfriend, Kirsty. I’m here in my official capacity of Reaper First Class. I must not allow our relationship to color my judgment. I must treat you the same as I’d treat any case I was assigned.”

“Okay. Okay. Let’s look at this from Conrad’s point of view. Maybe he didn’t realize how weak I was when I stumbled across the room toward him. He had already been panicked about losing his Deal and his life. Plus he was busy trying to force his daughter to sign the amendment. How had I looked to him, coming at him, arms outstretched? Dead gal walking.”

Dante didn’t look convinced. I rushed on before he could interrupt me with more nonsense about ethics and morals.

“I fell toward him, he could have seen it as a tackle. I couldn’t have hurt him, though. All he had to do was take a giant step backward out of my range and I would have face-planted harmlessly at his feet. Well, harmless to him.”

Oh, look. Here I was making excuses for my rat-bastard, skegging ex-boss. Again. I shook myself like a wet dog coming out of a dirty, murky swamp covered in filth.

“No, Dante. I
know
what happened. I was there. It doesn’t matter what Conrad believed. Or what Shannon thinks she saw, because the end of the story—the end of
my
story—is that he brutally bashed my brains in with office supplies.”

Office supplies! What a crappy, ignoble ending.

If I hadn’t already been murdered, I would have died of embarrassment.

I turned my back and stormed away, although given we were still in the transport van, I didn’t storm very far.

Chapter 10

If Words Could Kill, I’d Sentence You to Death

ONCE BACK IN
prison, Theresa and her coworker escorted Shannon and Maddy back to their cell. This time they were given orange jumpsuits and some other basics. Maddy settled in for the duration, but Conrad fussed about. Anytime a guard passed his cell, he demanded to be heard, to be released, to be given a cell phone.

Gill Hammerhead arrived shortly thereafter. His assistant, he told Conrad, would join them soon bearing a fresh suit for the hearing, along with other necessities. She’d been held up by Security checking the deodorant and hairbrush for illicit substances and possibly very small firearms.

Theresa appeared and led Conrad and Gill to a private meeting room. We shades-in-waiting trooped along like Conrad was the Pied Piper and we were the town rats instead of the other way ’round.

“I’ll be right outside if you need me,” Theresa offered helpfully.

Both men ignored her. She closed the door after herself, giving them privacy, but she kept an eye on them through a big shatterproof window. I stood beside her for a moment, enjoying how the thick safety glass distorted Hammerhead’s smarmy features.

Then I joined Dante and Shannon inside the room so we could listen in on Conrad and Hammerhead’s plans.

Conrad acted nonchalant, cocky even. He barely paid attention to Gill’s advice and counsel.

“Why is he so overconfident?” Dante asked Shannon.

Like she’d know.

It seemed a fair question, though. I already knew Conrad’s story; I’d heard it often enough. And I knew what the evidence would reveal. That left only the preliminary interviews. Was he counting on one of the witnesses’ testimony to exonerate Shannon?

What would Detective Leo say? The day of my death, the hospital staff had arrived to find me clubbed to death, Conrad dead and Shannon standing over the bodies with the stapler in her hand. That was pretty incriminating to start with.

Now Conrad, posing as Shannon, would say that he’d brained me to protect his daughter and then died.
Then
Shannon had picked up the murder weapon. That explained her fingerprints on the stapler. Now that I considered it, the only difference between what had actually happened and what Conrad was now saying happened was the intent—that Conrad claimed I’d attacked Shannon while I knew I’d only wanted him to kill me so I could reap him. I’d sacrificed the life I’d worked so hard to get back to save Shannon and here was everybody acting like I was the guilty skegger.

Conrad also conveniently left out the reason Shannon picked up the stapler: to defend herself against her crazed father, who wanted her to sign the contract amendment. In blood. That wouldn’t figure into the Coil court’s hearing at all.

But it sure did in my conflict with Dante.

Frannie’s testimony—the recording that Shannon had wanted me dead—was more than incriminating. It was tantamount to a confession. Why, then, was Conrad so confident?

I snapped my fingers, drawing Dante’s and Shannon’s attention. What? I’m only not speaking to them when there’s nothing to talk about. Now there was.

“I got it,” I told them. “When they get to the part where the judge is going to rule, Conrad’s going to pop out of Shannon’s body and into Judge Wilson. He’ll rule there’s not enough evidence for a trial and dive back into Shannon’s vacant body. It’ll probably look like Shannon fainted under the extreme stress. Then when she reopens her eyes, it’ll be to the good news that the trial isn’t going forward.”

Dante rubbed his chin. Back home in Hell, he needed to shave every day. But on the Coil, his five-o’clock shadow hadn’t darkened at all. I loved the stubbly look—and feel. I sighed, wishing we weren’t on uncertain terms, but he’d started it.

Hadn’t he?

“We must stop him from possessing the judge.”

“What? No, Dante. See, we
want
the judge to rule in Shannon’s favor. Conrad needs to be free for when Shannon gets her body back.”

Dante shook his head, making sad eyes at me. I could feel my resolve to be mad at him melting. If only he wasn’t disagreeing with me . . . again.

“No. If the judge is kicked from her body, then she won’t be able to return, as you were not. Even when it is vacant again. We would only end up with another displaced soul on our hands. Colin Schotz would be furious.”

I opened my mouth to argue, getting as far as, “But . . .” before halting. Dante had gotten in a heap of trouble for my untimely displacement. This was his last chance to settle the Conrad issue to Hell’s satisfaction. We had to get Shannon back into
her
body without Conrad displacing anyone else.

“So how do we stop him?” I asked, feeling defeated and I hadn’t even done anything.

“I will speak to him.”

“Oh,
now
you’ll speak to him. But how do you get some alone-time with a guy saddled with a permanent and scary roommate?”

“We’ll wait until his cellmate is asleep,” Dante answered.

Hammerhead concluded his business with Conrad and left. Theresa escorted Conrad back to his cell bearing his clean suit for tomorrow. Shift changed and the friendly guard left, promising to be there bright and early to escort them back to court. Maddy glared and lay back on her two pillows.

Conrad’s head rested on the hard mattress. He clutched his bag of basics to his chest. Maddy had already confiscated his soap, deodorant and hair care products. She’d left him the clothing only because she was twice Shannon’s size. “S’fugly as hell, anyways,” the strangler had declared, preferring her orange jumpsuit to Shannon’s too-small designer business wardrobe.

Just before dawn, Dante stepped through the cell bars and approached Conrad’s bunk. “Now watch closely, Kirsty,” he called back over his shoulder. “We can practice afterwards.”

“Just focus,” I said, but made a point of watching. If I’d been able to move pencil and paper, I would have taken notes.

Dante knelt by the bunk, his outline growing fuzzy then solidifying again. A haze of dim light glimmered around him. From him actually. He was Hell’s own night-light.

He touched Conrad’s arm gently. “Conrad. Wake up. We need to speak with you. Conrad.”

But Conrad slept on. The deep sleep of a man with a plan. Dante nudged him again a little harder.

“Wha—What?” Conrad yelled.

Maddy cursed at him from above, threatening to beat him bloody.

“It’s me, Conrad. Dante Alighieri. Your Reaper. Do you remember?”

I might have snickered at that. He sounded too much like a waiter:
Hi, I’m Dante and I’ll be your Reaper for this evening.

Conrad took a moment to surface, then his eyes grew wide enough to show the whites even in the darkened cell. He shoved himself back into the corner of the bunk, yanking the covers up over his breasts. “I—You—Yes, I remember. What do you want?” He’d gone from scared to surly in zero-point-five seconds. A new land peeved record.

“We are here to ask you one more time to relinquish Shannon Iver’s body. It is not yours to possess.”

“And if I do? What’s in it for me?” That had always been Conrad’s MO. Maybe we should try bribing him. But what did we have to offer that he wasn’t already stealing for himself?

“If you do, then your daughter will return to her life and be able to live out her days as intended. You will accompany Kirsty and me back to Hell and serve the . . .” He trailed off, no doubt realizing there really wasn’t much incentive in his statement. “And she’ll get to live her life, maybe produce grandchildren. Probably,” he finished lamely.

“Dante,” I hissed before remembering Conrad couldn’t hear me. In normal tones, I added, “Tell him he can go free if he gives her back her body.”

“But that’s not true.”

“Doesn’t matter. Just tell him.”

“I cannot do that. It wouldn’t be right.”

“All that prick has ever done is lie. It would be karmic justice.” I mentally played back what I’d just said and felt sick. I sounded just like Conrad, twisting the truth to suit my needs.

“Who’re you talking to?” Conrad demanded. He tossed the covers away and sat up.

“Shut the fuck up, bitch,” floated down from the top bunk.

“Conrad, speak softly, please,” Dante whispered, although I’m pretty sure only Conrad could hear him. But if Dante whispered, then Conrad would follow his lead. Good thinking.

I recalled that day in the men’s room when he and Conrad had been arguing and I’d figured Conrad was talking on his Bluetooth earpiece because Dante had been visible and audible only to Conrad.

Conrad, however, knew the true situation. “Who’s with you, Reaper?”

“You cannot see her, but Kirsty is here with me.”

Of course Conrad peered all around the darkened cell. Why do people always look when you tell them not to?

“Kirsty is encouraging me to make promises to you that I cannot keep. I will not lie to you.”

“So, I’m supposed to give up Shannon’s body, give up being CEO of the company I built from the ground up? Abandon all those clients and employees who need me and let the company go bankrupt? Plus I get to go back to jail in Hell? I’d rather rot in here.” Conrad relaxed back on the bunk, always so sure he was right. I used to admire that confidence, but now I wanted to punch that smug grin off his face. That would make me a
grin
Reaper.

“We have surmised your plans, Conrad Iver. We know you intend to possess the judge in order to rule in your own favor.”

“Yeah, so?”

“You cannot do that.”

“And you’re going to stop me how?”

Ancient springs squealed from the upper bunk. “Don’t make me come down there, bitch.”

“How?” Conrad repeated, voice low.

“I cannot stop you, but you must know that once you leave this body you can never possess it again.”

Conrad shot to his feet, satin bra and panties glowing pinkish in the dim lighting. “What? You’re lying.”

Dante shook he head slowly side to side. “No, I am not. Why would I? We, too, want the judge to rule in Shannon’s favor. But you must believe me. If you leave this body, it will fall into a coma as Kirsty’s did and neither of you will be able to have it.”

“But you just said I should give it back to her. What’s the difference? She won’t be able to get back into it then, either.”

Dante opened his mouth, but we all saw the flaw in his logic. If I’d failed in all my efforts to get back into my body, why would Shannon fare any differently, whether Conrad gave it up voluntarily or not?

Shannon began to sniffle again. I put my arm around her and held her close, realizing this was exactly what Dante had done earlier. But now wasn’t the time to admit my jealousy might be unfounded and I should probably apologize. I had an important conversation I needed to eavesdrop on.

“You have a point, Conrad Iver. I will need to speak to my superiors. It was they who facilitated Kirsty’s return to her body.” He paused, puzzling something out. “Briefly. Perhaps they will do the same for Shannon once they hear of her plight.”

“So you really don’t know then.”

“I do know you cannot possess the same body twice.”

Even in the faint lighting, I could see Conrad remained dubious.

“Are you willing to take that chance, Conrad Iver? I will leave you with your thoughts now.”

Dante’s outlined blurred again, the light surrounding him faded and he was once again invisible to mortals.

He walked over to where I waited with Shannon. “Perhaps Conrad will see reason and agree to vacate your body in the morning.” The last thing Dante sounded was hopeful.

“I don’t think so, Dante,” Shannon whispered. “But thanks for trying.”

“We should go now, then, to Hell and see what the—”

“No,” I cut in. “We’re going to see this through.” When Dante put his hands on his hips and looked prepared to argue, I went another direction. “Look, Dante. What’s another day or two? How long can a murder trial last?” I realized this wasn’t making points in my favor and moved on quickly. “Let’s see what the outcome of the preliminary hearing is first. We can always go to Hell afterwards.”

Dante began to argue, but Shannon laid her hand on his arm. “I agree with Kirsty. Please let’s see this through.”

Dante ceased his protests, but I didn’t get the impression Shannon and I had won him over.

“Look, Dante. They’ve only got circumstantial evidence—the stapler that’s been the cause of all this trouble. And now the digital file of Shannon saying she wished me dead.”

Realizing what I’d just said, I looked away.

“What do you mean? I never wished you dead.”

“On the phone, yesterday morning. You said you felt like it was you in the coma and that you wished I’d either wake up or die.” By the end of that sentence, I’d gone from reluctant to share to angry at her for feeling that my tragedy was an imposition, then feeling betrayed and sad that she’d wished me dead.

“Oh, Kirsty. I’m so sorry. You know I didn’t mean it that way.” Shannon held out her arms. Now I got the hug I’d craved earlier. We clutched each other for long moments. “I really wished you’d wake up, Kirsty. I really did. I’ve missed you so much.”

I nodded, stepping out of the circle of her arms. She felt a little insubstantial. Like being hugged by the Michelin Man when he needed his pressure checked. I could see the light shining behind her—right through her. We’d better hurry up and get her back into her body.

Dante must have arrived at the same conclusion. He’d stood by quietly while Shannon and I worked out our issues with hugs and soft words. Now he coughed and gestured for me to continue with my thoughts on the case. Where was I? Oh, right. The recording. “So Frannie, dedicated employee that she is, recorded your side of the telephone conversation and then played it back for the police. By now, it will have been copied and emailed all over the place so there’s no point in stealing Frannie’s iPhone, but the stapler . . . The stapler is the key piece of evidence and you should go and get that.”

Dante stared at the ground and rubbed his chin. “Look, Kirsty. I know you mean well, but I think we’re going down the wrong path. I need to report our progress to Colin and see what he has to say. He may decide we should wait or maybe we should file a Wrongful Termination Appeal. This was supposed to be a straightforward capture and release into Hell and it’s gotten way out of hand. Shannon, I’m sorry but I need to take you to Hell now.”