Nearly Departed (Spring Cleaning Mysteries)
Read Nearly Departed (Spring Cleaning Mysteries) Online
Authors: JB Lynn
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NEARLY DEPARTED
by
JB
LYNN
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ebook Edition
Copyright © 2013 by
JB Lynn
Cover design by
Lyndsey Lewellen
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to your online retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.
To my parents: who brought me into this wacky world; to those who helped me bring this wacky story into the world: Cyndi and Jen, my friends and critique partners; and to my editor, Gemma Halliday, for helping to make the "impossible" possible.
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NEARLY DEPARTED
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HAPTER ONE
A dead guy was checking out my ass.
Not that there was much to see. While a
disposable biohazard suit protects against blood-borne pathogens, it's not exactly the most flattering of fashions.
I turned around and glared at the dead guy through my protective goggles.
"Didn't your mother ever teach you that it's not polite to stare?" My indignation was muffled by the respirator mask covering my mouth and nose.
Ever since I
'd met my first one in a burning meth house, two and a half years earlier, encountering ghosts had become fairly common place. Most of the time I met them while working a job, since they were connected to the place they died. The easy fix would have been to get into another line of work, but right after the meth house incident, my brother Jerry's National Guard reserve unit had been called up to active duty, and off he'd gone to serve his country while I'd been left to serve the needs of Spring Cleaning.
I no longer freaked out when I saw a ghost. They
were really
more of a nuisance than anything, despite what books and movies would have us believe. In close to three years, I'd never had reason to fear one. They weren't malevolent spirits out to do me harm. They were just pathetic souls, stuck looking through a window at a world they could never be a part of again.
Nearly naked Myron Blotto, all three hundred hairy pounds of him, leered at me from where he hovered in the middle of the room
. Thankfully he'd died wearing red silk boxer shorts, so at least I was spared the trauma of witnessing him in all his nude glory. In this job it's the little things that count.
"
I don't get paid enough for this," I muttered, turning my attention back to cutting up the butt-ugly carpet of the cheap motel room that had absorbed some of the fluids from Myron's decomposing body. Crime scene clean up actually pays pretty well considering you don't need a college degree or the most sterling job history to get the gig, but my paycheck didn't compensate me for dealing with lecherous ghosts.
"
How'd a nice girl like you end up with a job like this?" Myron asked.
I jabbed
a little harder at the carpet with my blade. One of the reasons I'd agreed to take this job when Jerry offered it was that I thought I'd be spared having to make inane small talk with strangers. That was back when I didn't believe in ghosts, back before I could see and talk to them.
Myron had been talking to me for over three hours now
. I was tired and sweaty and not in the mood to chat. "Really? You're going to trot out the
nice girl
line? Is that what you used on the hooker? Maybe that's why she left you to rot after you croaked."
His body hadn
't been discovered for almost a week, which was why the floor covering had to be trashed.
"
You don't have to be so mean." The big guy actually sounded hurt.
My back and conscience twinged
simultaneously as I ripped up the piece of rug I'd carved out. I tossed it in a plastic biohazard bin before turning back to Myron. He was no longer leering. Now he looked to be on the verge of tears. I felt kind of sorry for him. According to Ned, the motel manager and one of my regular customers, Myron had rented this hellhole by the month. The guy obviously hadn't had an easy life.
"
Look," I told him more gently. "There's nothing here for you. You have to move on."
"
Move on?" Myron asked plaintively.
"
Do you see a bright light?"
He shook his head.
I sighed. They never did. That would be too easy. To be honest, I didn't even know whether the stupid bright light thing was even real, but, at heart, I'm a pretty lazy person, and that light, if it does exist, seemed like the easiest way to rid myself of ghosts, so I always ask.
"
Something is keeping you here. If we can figure out what your unfinished business is, we can get you out of my hair…uh…I mean… help you move on."
Myron squinted at me dubiously.
"Unfinished business?"
I turned back to the floor where Myron
's body had been discovered. "Yeah. Unfinished business. Maybe it's some message you want to get to somebody. Or some task you need completed."
"
I would have liked what I paid Cherry for."
Grabbing my blade, I began gouging out the carpet pad.
"Assuming that Cherry is the hooker, I'm gonna make a wild guess and say
that
is not what's keeping you here. Usually it's something important."
"
It was important to me," Myron groused.
"
You hired a hooker, had a heart attack, and died in this crappy motel room, Myron. Surely there was something in your life more important than Cherry's job skills."
"
Well there was one thing," he said slowly.
I put down my blade and peered at him through my plastic goggles.
"What?"
"
It's going to sound stupid."
"
Stupider than being tethered to this world just because your favorite prostitute didn't deliver your happy ending?"
He considered that for a moment, scratching his hairy belly like it was a good luck Buddha.
"I forgot to mail a letter."
"
A letter?"
He nodded somberly, his fleshy jowls jiggling like gelatin.
"What's so important about this letter?"
"
I—"
The ridiculously upbeat notes of
"Living La Vida Loca
"
suddenly echoed in the room, startling me. Usually I couldn't get a signal on my cell phone when a ghost lurked nearby.
"
Oh crap! The birthday party!" My cell phone only played that song when one person called, and the only reason my mother would be calling would be to remind me of the birthday party. I made no move to answer the phone, knowing that the presence of the ghost would mess with my reception. If I did, I'd have to tell her where I was. She wouldn't have been pleased. "I've got to go," I told Myron, snapping the lid of the biohazard bin shut. "I'll come back tomorrow, and you can tell me all about this letter of yours."
"
But…"
"
You've hung out here for a week, and you're already dead, so one more night won't kill you."
I stumbled out of the room and almost collided with a woman pushing a cleaning cart.
"Sorry."
Abandoning the cart, she backed away from me, making no effort to disguise her utter revulsion. Yup, even someone who scrubs toilets and changes the dirty sheets where prostitutes have plied their trade thinks my job is disgusting. Ignoring her, I ripped off my protective suit, stuffed it in a trash bag which I tossed atop the biohazard bin, and closed the door, double-checking to make sure it was locked.
"Don't go in there," I told the cleaning woman who hadn't yet reclaimed her cart.
"
Si
."
For good measure I stuck a piece of
"Crime Scene Do Not Cross" tape across the doorway. It wasn't actually a crime scene, but the tape is the equivalent of putting out a "Beware of Dog" sign, enough to deter the merely curious. Nothing would be enough to keep out those who were truly determined.
"
I'll be back tomorrow," I said a tad too loudly since I wanted to be sure that Myron could hear me through the door.
The cleaning woman crossed herself as though I
'd just spit a gypsy curse at her.
I jumped into the company van and raced to the dilapidated house I
've called home for over three years. I took a long, hot shower (A quick shower would have been more efficient, but when I've spent hours cleaning up decomp, it can be a challenge to wash that death right outta my hair.) until I felt like I could pass in the land of the living.
Wrapped in a towel, I frowned at the contents of my closet.
Clothes hung haphazardly from hangers, and piles of footwear littered the floor. Even though I was thirty-two years old, my housekeeping skills were the same as they'd been when I was fifteen. Some people thought this was a character defect, but I liked to think it was one of my many unrecognized strengths. I never minded going into a messy house.
"
Wear the red dress." My roommate, Delia, dressed in her usual uniform of a black turtleneck and jeans, lounged in the doorway of my bedroom.
"
If I wear a dress I have to wear nice shoes. I'm tired, my back hurts, and I want to wear sneakers."
"
Wear the dress. You look like death."
"
You're one to talk."
"
You should at least dress in a cheerful color." She walked over to my dust-covered dresser and pointed at my jewelry box. "Wear the dangly earrings. They look festive."
I rolled my eyes. My best friend,
Venus, had brought them back from one of her trips abroad, which no doubt meant they cost a small fortune. I'd been saving them for a special occasion…like a date, but I hadn't been in one of those in years.
