Death Fricassee Read online

  “That’s one word for it.” The other man’s mouth twitched. “Are we finished here? I’d like to leave.”

  “Fine.” Lucas motioned with his free hand. He still held onto me with the other. “Go. Everything here is complete.”

  Within the blink of an eye, both men were gone, and Lucas and I stood alone with Al’s body.

  I covered my face with one hand. “Lucas, what happened to him? Who did this?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know, Jackie. I’m sorry, but that isn’t part of. . .” He swept his arm over the whole scene. “This. What I do. I can’t tell you what killed him, because it’s not important to what I have to do.”

  “How can you say it’s not important? He’s dead. Someone did this, right? I mean, he didn’t just have a heart attack and hit his head. . .” I braved another glance down at the body. “No. It looks like he was shot.”

  “Yeah, it looks that way to me, too. And I don’t mean it isn’t important, but I have a limited time to move along a soul to his or her destination. I can’t stop for chit chat.” He took a deep breath and exhaled. “Besides, believe it or not, how a person’s physical body dies isn’t important to him or her once it’s been vacated.” As I began to speak, he held up his hand again. “I’m not saying it doesn’t matter to you, or even to me, but Al truly doesn’t care.”

  “How do you know? Did you ask him? Was he. . .was his spirit here?”

  “His soul was, yes. And no, I didn’t ask him. He wouldn’t have answered me.”

  I sniffled and took one more shuddering breath. “Did he know I was here, Lucas? Did Al know I was here?”

  Lucas closed his eyes. “Jackie, he—his soul was on a different plane. No, he couldn’t see you. He didn’t see the restaurant, either, or his body. He only saw the advocates and me.”

  “The advocates?” I wrinkled my forehead.

  “The two men who were here. Listen, I promise I’ll tell you everything I know, but we need to leave now. I’m protected from any culpability in a violent death, apparently. Or so I’m told. But I have no idea about you. And the last thing we need is for the police to show up and start asking why you’re standing over a body.”

  “But how? Where are we going?”

  Lucas wrapped his arms around me and tucked my head beneath his chin, effectively cutting off my words. Out of instinct, I circled my hands to his back and clutched at his shirt.

  “Hang on.”

  Before I could take another breath, we were back in the vortex, swirling and swinging and dropping. I screwed shut my eyes and held tight.

  ***

  “HERE.” LUCAS SET a mug down on the table in front of me, and out of instinct, I picked it up and took a sip. It was tea, some kind of herbal blend, and it tasted like springtime and daffodils. I closed my eyes and breathed in the steam.

  “Jackie, I know you have a million questions. The fact that you’re not in shock or passed out on the floor—or worse, running screaming down the street, just to get away from me—is a minor miracle. But we’re here now. So ask me. Ask me anything.”

  “What is this?” I lifted the cup.

  Lucas’s brows drew together. “The tea? That’s what you want to know? God, Jackie. . .tonight I told you I think I’m a vampire, something you don’t even believe exists, and then I accidentally transport you to a death Reckoning, and the soul in question just happens to be one of your dearest friends. And when I tell you to ask me anything you want, you ask about the tea? It’s Springtime in Paris, by the way. One of my students gave it to me for Christmas last year.”

  I lifted my shoulder in a shrug. “It’s good. I like it.” I drank some more. “How long? How long have you been—this? Whatever you are?”

  He looked over my shoulder, his gaze losing focus. “I think it happened the same night as my. . .the night of my farewell party. I didn’t know it, because it was overshadowed by the whole drinking-blood deal, but the guy who delivered that first cooler of blood. . .I knew when he was going to die. It was like this voice in my head whispering how long he had. I thought it was a symptom of whatever other freaky thing was happening to me, but when I met the first advocates, they told me it was part of being a broker.”

  I nodded as though any of this made sense. “There was a voice whispering in your head?”

  Lucas leaned back in his chair. “Yeah. At least, it started out whispering. Then it got louder. And I could see the numbers, too. I just figured the whole thing was part of some weird drug trip. That Veronica had slipped me something, and now I was dealing with the after-effects. The voice in my head seriously spooked me, but it went away when the delivery man left. And then the next person I met, I could hear it again.” He met my eyes and then glanced away. “It’s the worse part of being a broker. And let me tell you, that’s saying something.”

  I traced the handle of my mug. “So when you met me, you could hear how long I have? When I’m going to die?”

  He shook his head. “No, I couldn’t. I have no idea why. And at first, I didn’t realize it, because I was too busy worrying about other shit going down. Right after I got here, the first night, I got called to my first Reckoning. And yeah, that just about pushed me over the edge of sanity.”

  “You had no idea at that point? What you were—what you are?”

  “Not a clue. According to the advocates, usually there’s a process, and a sort of training period. But for some reason, that didn’t happen for me. I was sitting here at home, and you had just dropped off the food. And then I started feeling odd. . .it’s almost like I’m being pulled by a different kind of gravity. Away from the earth, not toward it. I got dizzy, thought I’d passed out, and when I opened my eyes, I was at a nursing home. And there were two people there talking to me like I should know what I’m doing, but of course, I didn’t.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “They explained as much as they could.”

  “What are their names? The advocates?” I thought of the two men I’d met tonight. Neither of them had introduced themselves.

  Lucas shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s a different set each time. There are teams of advocates for both the light and the dark, and I guess there’s no set territory for them. They’re sent when and where they’re needed.”

  “How does it work, exactly? Can you tell me that? Are you allowed?”

  One side of his mouth lifted in a half-smile. “No one’s told me any rules, so as far as I know, I can tell you anything I want. And if someone in charge wants to punish me for that—well, that’s fucked up, because none of them have told me diddly squat. I’m making my own way here.”

  “Do you think you could get in trouble? Will someone smite you?”

  “I doubt it. The advocates tonight seemed surprised to see you, but they weren’t upset. To answer your question, as far as I understand it now, when a person dies, his soul passes to a new plane, where he’s met by an advocate from each side. The light and the dark. And I’m the broker: I listen to the arguments, and I determine where the soul goes.”

  “To heaven or to hell?” I frowned. I was raised Catholic, the product of two families whose lives were deeply entwined with the Church. None of this sounded like what I’d been taught in CCD.

  Lucas hesitated. “I’m not sure the same terms apply here. The advocates describe the destinations as Separation and the Great Beyond. Like I said, I’m still figuring it out, but that’s what they say.”

  “And so what happened to Al tonight? He went to heaven, right?”

  “He’s in Paradise, yes, which as I understand it, would be the same as your term for heaven.”

  “You said something about there being no Reckoning because of Grace. What did that mean? Who’s Grace? His wife was named Elisabett.”

  Lucas laughed. “Grace isn’t a person in this case, it’s a state of being. It means that at some point in his life, Al was redeemed by Grace. Usually, I guess, that means the person was baptized. So there’s no need for an accounting. He moved on without it.” />
  “But what if he were a really terrible person who just happened to have gotten dunked at some point? Why should he get to go to heaven then?”

  “Jackie, I don’t know much about theology. I’m just starting to get the hang of how all this works. But one of the advocates of light told me that being covered by Grace doesn’t necessarily mean the soul goes to directly to what you would call heaven. It just means he gets another chance to choose.” He stared down at the table for a minute. “At some point, I have to trust that there’s a plan, and that someone knows how it all works. Because I can tell you, it ain’t me.”

  I finished my tea and pushed back the cup. It felt as though I’d stumbled into some bizarre universe tonight, and I realized that in order to cope with it, I was segregating everything into manageable chunks. The death broker part was incredible, but I’d lived that. I’d spun through the darkness at Lucas’s side, landed at the diner and seen first-hand how it worked. I could handle that. The so-called vampire part. . .that was still murky, something that I wasn’t sure about.

  And even while my mind was spinning, trying to make sense of anything that had happened since I’d knocked on Lucas’s door, my heart was breaking, thinking of Al lying cold and alone on the floor of his restaurant. I wondered if he’d been discovered, if the police were there. Would they be able to figure out who’d killed him? I just couldn’t fathom who would want to shoot this man whose only vices had been food and kindness. I thought of his children, all of whom still lived up in New Jersey and New York. They were a close family, and I knew they were going to be devastated.

  “Jackie. . .you’ve had a long night. Why don’t you go get some sleep?”

  I brought my attention back to Lucas. His hair was mussed, and beneath the sexy-professor glasses, I could see smudges under his eyes. He was exhausted, too. I saw his gaze dart to the fridge next to us, and realization dawned on me.

  “Do you need. . .are you thirsty?”

  He grimaced. “I wish I could say no, but if I’m telling you the truth, yes, I need to have. . .something. And I really don’t want to drink in front of you.”

  I laughed, a humorless bark. “Yeah, I appreciate that. I like to think I’m open-minded, but I think that just might push me over the edge tonight.” I rose and pushed in my chair. “Will you. . .do you have any more, um, Reckonings tonight? Or can you sleep?”

  He sighed. “I never know, but so far there haven’t been more than one a night or day, and there’ve been a few days I haven’t been called at all. Two tonight is a record. I’m going to drink and then crawl into bed myself.”

  I tilted my head. “Do you sleep, then?”

  “Yeah, I do. Quite a bit, actually.” Lucas smiled, and even with everything that had happened in the last few hours, my heart skipped a beat and that part of me that only wanted to be held by him stirred.

  “I want to talk to you about that—the vampire part—tomorrow. But I think you’re right. I need some rest, and so do you.” I stood for a minute, unsure of what to do next. Did I just leave? Or would he—did he want to kiss me goodnight? Did I want him to do that?

  Understanding softened his eyes, and he took one cautious step toward me. “Okay. I’ll come over tomorrow, and we’ll talk more.” He laid one tentative hand on my arm and leaned down to kiss the top of my head. “Sleep well, Jackie.”

  I swallowed hard. “You, too.”

  I slipped out into the cool damp of midnight and walked over the wet the grass. The dark was still and silent, and normally, I might have been a little spooked. A little wary of what lurked in the shadows. But tonight, after everything I’d seen and heard, I was more concerned about what lived next door than what watched me in the night.

  I’d expected to have trouble shutting down my mind that night, but once I’d locked my door behind me after taking Makani out for a quick visit to the bushes, I collapsed into bed on top of the covers. I didn’t stir until pounding on my front door woke me.

  Makani rolled over and whined a little. I looked at him through bleary eyes. “Just a minute, baby. Let me see who Mommy has to kill for waking us up this morning.”

  I was still dressed in my shorts and T-shirt from the night before, so I just ran a hand over my messy hair and dragged myself to the front door. I’d expected it to be Lucas—with coffee and something sweet if he knew anything about women—but instead, I saw Mrs. Mac. She was holding a wadded-up tissue, and her eyes were red.

  Suddenly the night before came tumbling on top of me. Al. Mrs. Mac must’ve heard. I unlocked the door and took a deep breath.

  “Oh, Jackie, are you just getting up?” She frowned up at me. “Did I wake you? Sorry, dear.” She stepped inside, and I stood back automatically, swallowing over the lump in my throat.

  “Mrs. Mac, what’s wrong?” My voice was rough from sleep, and I rubbed at my eyes. “Are you all right?”

  “No, sweetie, I’m not. I’m sorry to do this, to wake you up with bad news, but it’d better for you to hear it from me.” She sank onto one of my kitchen chairs and clutched at my hand. “Jackie, it’s Al. He’s. . .he’s passed.”

  I hadn’t thought I would cry. After all, this wasn’t news to me. I’d seen him last night. But hearing the words come out of Mrs. Mac’s mouth somehow made his death solid and irreversible. I sat down across from her and buried my face in my hands as sobs shook me.

  “I know.” She was weeping again, too. “And Jackie, that’s not the worst of it, I’m afraid. He didn’t just. . .they found him in the diner. He’d been shot.”

  I didn’t raise my head, afraid she’d see the knowledge in my eyes. “My God, who would do that?”

  “They don’t know, honey. The police are looking into it, but it doesn’t look like robbery, from what I heard. But what else? Who would want to hurt that sweet harmless man?” She laid her head down on the table, and her shoulders shook.

  I stood to wrap my arms around her. “I know, Mrs. Mac. Please, don’t get yourself too upset. Remember your blood pressure.” A thought struck me as I patted her heaving back. Lucas. . .he’d known Al was going to die. And did he know about Mrs. Mac, too? How much longer I had with her? Anger welled in me. How could he not have told me?

  For half an hour, we sat together, crying and trying to make sense of the senseless. Mrs. Mac told me that Al’s family had been notified overnight, and apparently they were expected to arrive later in the day. I’d met them all at one time or another over the past four years, but I dreaded seeing them again, under these circumstances. Part of me wished I could tell them what I knew: that their beloved father had moved on to heaven, that the manner of his death hadn’t mattered to him at all once it was done. But of course, I could never say that.

  The rest of the day was a blur of grief and tears. Neighbors were in and out of the house, each visitor bringing a fresh wave of news and speculation. Given how close the diner was to our development, there was also an element of fear, as everyone worried about our safety in our homes.

  “It’s not like the old days, when you could leave your doors unlocked all the time.” Mr. Rivers wagged his head. “Why, when I was a boy, we didn’t even have a key to our front door. We just walked in and out, never giving it a thought. Sad thing when a man isn’t safe even his own business.”

  “I barely sleep now as it is.” Mrs. Nelson clutched her hands in her lap. “Since Len died, every noise, every creak wakes me up. Now I’ll be worried even more. I wonder if I should get another dog.”

  I got up to put on a new pot of coffee. I wasn’t sure why my house had become the central gathering place for those of us in shock at Al’s passing, but it had. The only person on the block I hadn’t seen today was Lucas. No one else found that odd, since he hadn’t known Al well at all. Still, I kept looking through the window, half-hoping and half-dreading to see him heading my way.

  A few of the ladies brought over the traditional casseroles, and just as we were sitting down to eat, Al’s youngest daughter Dena arrived. Of all
his children, she was the one I knew the best, despite the fact that she was twenty years older than me, and it didn’t surprise me that she’d come by. As everyone fussed over her, I steeled myself against a brand new onslaught of weeping.

  Dena told us about the plans that had been put into motion for a memorial service down here in Florida.

  “We want to do something to honor the last years of his life, with all of you.” She smiled at us through wet eyes. “Daddy wanted to be cremated, so once the—the police release him to us, we’ll do that and then take him home to do a funeral Mass there. He’ll be put to rest next to Mama.”

  “It’s what he wanted.” All the heads around the table nodded. Down here, death was not an abstract idea, something that could be pushed off and thought about later. It was part of our reality, an inevitability that everyone in my neighborhood had already planned out.

  “Dena, sweetie, I’m sorry to ask you, but do the police have any more information on what happened? Who would do this terrible thing?” Mrs. Nelson leaned forward.

  Dena shook her head. “Not that they’re telling us. The last person to see him was Mary. She was working the dinner shift, and she said he asked her to close up for him, which wasn’t unusual if he had plans or was just tired. She said he seemed a little distracted, but the detective said that could just be her perception in retrospect.” Dena met my eyes. “Jackie, did you see him yesterday?”

  I swallowed. “No, I. . .I didn’t talk to him. Not since earlier in the week. I stopped in for breakfast and gave him the names of some of the photographers I’d found for the cookbook. He was in the middle of the rush, so we really didn’t speak long. I told him I’d stop by later.” I bit back another sob. “We were supposed to begin cooking for the book this weekend. He was so excited.”

  “He was. I just wish I knew why he went back to the restaurant last night.” Dena wiped her eyes. “There wasn’t any sign of breaking and entering, so the police are pretty sure he let in whoever it was. Someone he knew.”