always be my best friend, Aanders."
Aanders gasped, choking on air suddenly caught in his throat. His back grew rigid. He turned his head slightly to the right and peeked out of the corner of his eye.
Belly waddled eagerly toward the corner.
Aanders looked back at the body on the table. “Now I'm hearing things. I thought you said something."
Aanders snapped his fingers in command. “Come here you stupid dog. Right now. We've got to get out of here."
The voice from the corner said, “I did say something. I said you'll always be my best friend. No matter what."
Aanders screamed as he turned his head toward the corner. Trembling, he strained to see through the darkness and braced himself against a cabinet.
The voice from the corner also gasped in disbelief. “You can hear me? I can't believe it. If you can hear me, then you must be able to see me, too. Can you see me, Aanders?"
A fearful moan escaped as Aanders felt his way toward the door.
"Don't go,” the voice begged. “Please don't go. It's me. It's me, Tim."
Shrieking louder as he looked from Tim's body on the table to the faint image in the corner, Aanders bumped against a cart containing embalming fluid. The cart toppled, sending plastic gallon jars rolling across the floor.
"You can see me, can't you?” Tim shouted. “You can see me!"
Aanders inched toward the door with his back hugging the counter. The figure shifted forward into the glow of the hall's light.
Aanders jerked his gaze from the figure to the body on the table. It was Tim. It was his friend standing there as well as his friend's body under the sheet on the table. “It ca-ca-can't be.” He pointed in both directions. “You can't be in both places at the same time.” He whispered, “Can you?"
"It's me. It really is. But guess what? If I'm dead and you can see me, then you're a death coach. Nobody else can see the crossers except death coaches.” Tim grinned at his friend. “I can't believe it. Wait till I tell Sadie.” He breathlessly added, “Maybe you already know you're a coach. Have you been keeping it from me all this time?"
Belly circled, stopping long enough during the rotations to offer a paw to Tim.
"Are you crazy?” Aanders shouted. “I don't know what you're talking about.” He pointed to the body on the table and then again at Tim. “Are you dead or not?"
"I'm dead all right. But there's more. We were murdered and I've got to prove it."
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7
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Nan watched Mr. Bakke spray disinfectant over the embalming table and rub it vigorously with a white cloth.
A smile graced her lips as Paul Brink's words tiptoed into her mind. When Paul had generously offered to foot the bill for purchasing the mortuary and the five acres it sat on, Nan had refused. She wanted to do it on her own. Accepting his offer meant making a commitment. Her marriage to Clay had been a disaster and she wasn't ready to commit to someone else. Now she wished she hadn't refused. It was beginning to look like the dream of perpetuating her father's funeral enterprise would never be realized.
"I forgot to tell you Lon called,” Mr. Bakke said.
"Did he say what he wanted?"
"Not really, but he asked if you'd finished with the Fossums yet."
"I had the strangest conversation with Lon yesterday,” Nan said. “After he helped me load a body into the hearse, he told me he asked Carl Swanson to investigate the Fossums’ deaths. Carl refused. He said Carl got really nervous when he brought it up."
"What did he tell you? Does he think foul play was involved?"
"I'm not sure. But I know he's investigating on the sly. He said if Carl finds out, he'll push to get him transferred. Or fired."
"I can't believe anyone would hurt the Fossums. Richard Fossum didn't have an enemy in the world,” Mr. Bakke said. “He's the kindest person I know."
"Lon said the same thing. That's one of the reasons he's puzzled. He asked if Paul ever discussed any problems he had with
Sophia Wren
Cassandra Clare
Savannah Rylan
Dori Lavelle
Agatha Christie
Lynette S. Jones
Kim Lawrence
Beverly Farr
Hobb Robin
Michael Koryta