Chapter 56
l raced around to the back, snatched up the dead
tomato plant (other than chives and dandelions, nothing ever grew
in my old yard), dug through the dirt in the pot, and found the
spare key.
Not that I needed it;
I was so keyed up I could have booted the door right off the
hinges. But a racket, I did not need to make. If the other me
didn’t notice, Detective Nick sure would.
I let myself in—you
ever noticed how hard it is to be in a hurry and be quiet? Yeah. I
had an advantage in that I was much, much stronger and faster than
Nick would expect, but still. A lot of shit had to go down if I was
going to fix one of my worst postdeath blunders. And an awful lot
could go wrong. Must be a Tuesday!
I eased into my old
kitchen, and was greatly helped by my sister, who had set a pack of
cheetahs on fire. At least, from the racket coming from my garage,
that’s what it sounded like.
“What the hell?”
Detective Nick came hurrying from the bathroom, where I could hear
the toilet running—nice! We had been friendly at this stage, not
friends, but still ... ever heard of a warrant, Ponch?
I remembered what
he’d said when I asked him that exact thing: “I didn’t need one,
seeing as how you’re dead.”
Note to self: once
you die, civil rights go right out the window.
“Well, look who it
is!”
Nick flinched, went
for his gun, then realized the lawful owner of the house he was in,
warrantless, was home, and relaxed. “Jesus, Betsy, you scared the
shit out of me.”
Dude, you have no idea how much more scary this encounter
could be. “Yeah? What’s up?”
“What’s up? You’re dead, Betsy. Except, according to
Jessica, you’re walking around.”
“Practical joke?” I
suggested.
“Do you know how many
laws you’re breaking?”
“I’m a child of
divorce. Have pity.” I could hear Laura knocking things over in the
garage; presumably Other Me was dealing with the racket. “I’m fine,
go away.”
“For your
information,” he began, ignoring my groan, “I didn’t believe
Jessica, but I promised her I’d check it out. And here you are!
You’ve got a lot of nerve walking around dead.”
“Tell
me.”
“I know things
haven’t been easy since your assault, but Betsy, you just can’t
pull this shit.”
Ah, the assault. That
would be the Fiends, feral vampires who leaped upon me when I was
coming out of Kahn’s Mongolian Barbecue (all you can eat, $14.99).
My garlic breath scared them off (I’m not kidding). But what I
didn’t know was that, at the time, they’d infected me with the vamp
virus. So when I was run over by a Pontiac Aztek, I didn’t stay
dead.
I’d reported the
assault like a good citizen, and Detective Nick had taken my info.
We’d stayed in touch ... friendly, as I said. Not
friends.
“I don’t know what
happened,” I lied, improvising rapidly. “I think it was some kind
of practical joke by my stepmother.”
“Having met her at
the funeral home,” he muttered, “I can believe that.”
“But I’m fine,
everyone’s fine, go away now.” I seized him by the tie and began
dragging him toward my back door. “Thanks for checking on me. So,
um, why don’t you ask Jessica out?”
“Huh?” He seemed to
be having trouble keeping up, the poor, poor man. I was all choked
up thinking what a stressful week this was. For him, “Aw, no way.”
“Why not? You’re not
interested in me.” And never was, not until I drank his blood the
night I came back. And it hadn’t been me he’d wanted. But my undead
mojo had fooled him good. “And she likes you.”
He brightened. He was
so cute ... my height, with brutally
short blond hair and blue eyes. A swimmer’s build, and those
shoulders ... if I wasn’t dead, or
married, I’d have made a try for him. But I was. And I
was!
“You think
so?”
Yeah, she passed me a note in study hall, “Sure.
You should definitely ask her out.”
“Aw, no.
She’s—”
“Rich?”
“No. I mean, she is,
but so am I.”
“You are?” This would
explain the really good suits he wore. Also the BMW. I had just
assumed he was a dirty cop.
“Yeah, it’s an
inheritance ... but she’s dinner at the Oceanaire followed by a
night at The Grand, while I’m bowling in Burnsville followed by one
a.m. breakfast at Perkins.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I had
my hand between his shoulders and was firmly propelling him out the
back door. I could hear footsteps on my front porch. This was not a
place to linger, for either of us. “Go ask her. Thanks for stopping
in. Everything’s super-duper. Good-bye.”
“Do you think I
should bring flowers?” he asked before I put a hand on his face and
shoved him out the door.
“Tulips,” I hissed,
and let myself out. He went right; I locked the door and went
left.
Laura came around the
far side of the garage, one hand clapped to the side of her neck.
“I slowed you down,” she panted, weaving. “But you were ... really
... thirsty.”
I caught her as she
went down.