Grim Expectations (Aisling Grimlock Book 5) Read online

  “You should. You’re definitely marvelous.”

  “Now you’re just sucking up,” I said. “I didn’t say anything earth-shattering to her. She was asking about her family and I simply told her she was their legacy now and they would be proud and happy that she survived.”

  “That was nice of you.”

  “It was hardly the stuff of being marvelous, though,” I said. “Dad listened and then he got all misty and gooey. He said he thought you were a good influence on me.”

  “So I’m safe?” Griffin looked relieved. “You could’ve led with that.”

  “Oh, he still thinks you can be a good influence on me without your hands.”

  “We’ll have a talk when I see him next,” Griffin said. “I’ll apologize for the text.”

  “I think you should reenact it,” I suggested. “I’ve always wanted to see what his head looks like from the inside out, and that will make it explode.”

  “You’re a funny girl,” Griffin said. “Marvelous and funny … that’s quite the combination.”

  “Yes, I’m being funny all over the place today,” I said. Something occurred to me as I dug into my Middle Eastern entrée. “You said you were bored when you sent the text. Why were you so late if nothing was going on?”

  “Something came up after I sent it,” Griffin hedged, his eyes unreadable as they locked with mine. “I was going to call, but I wanted to be sure. It turns out that it wasn’t as bad as I originally thought, so keep that in mind. Er, well, it wasn’t as bad for you. I’m sorry I was so late, though.”

  “That’s what happens when you live with a cop,” I said. “It’s not as if my job doesn’t run late sometimes. Heck, you make my job your job when it does. It’s okay. You don’t owe me any explanations.”

  “I still want to tell you,” Griffin said. “We got a call at about three or so. Four bodies washed up on the bank of the Detroit River. They were … chewed up, so to speak.”

  My shoulders stiffened as my heart rolled. “Four bodies?”

  “They weren’t immediately identifiable, but eventually we realized that it was three women and one man,” Griffin offered.

  “So it wasn’t the Grimleys?”

  “I wanted to be really sure,” Griffin replied. “It could’ve been two of the Grimleys and two other people we didn’t know were missing. It turns out it wasn’t any of the Grimleys. We identified the man and two of the women so far. The women were prostitutes and the man was their pimp. We’re assuming the final body is another prostitute, but we don’t have an identification yet.”

  I was ashamed at the relief washing over me. Four people were dead. They weren’t the people I was looking for, but still, feeling relieved by that fact seemed somehow disingenuous. “Was it some kind of turf war?”

  “Probably,” Griffin said. “I stayed until I was sure it wasn’t the Grimleys. It will be my case, but because they were prostitutes the brass won’t put a lot of pressure on me to solve it.”

  “You’ll still solve it, though,” I said. “That’s what you do. You’re … a hero.”

  “Oh, but you’re my hero,” Griffin said, squeezing my hand. “It’s sad and terrible, but it’s not the Grimleys. I guess we’re still nowhere on that.”

  “Yeah, and it’s starting to bother me,” I admitted. “We need to find them. Even if they’re dead, Serena needs to know. Not knowing will be worse for her. She’ll allow hope to creep in, and we all know how debilitating hope can be.”

  “Yes, you still have a smidge of it where your mother is concerned,” Griffin said. “I know. We’ll do our best to find them, but with so many empty buildings and bodies of water … .”

  What he left unsaid was that there was a possibility we would never find the Grimleys. That already occurred to me. Hearing him say it, though, was disheartening. “Hurry up and eat,” I ordered. “I’m cold and want to take a bath.”

  “With me?”

  “I thought that was a given,” I said. “I bought new bubble bath. It smells like Christmas cookies.”

  “I think that sounds like a great way to relax,” Griffin said. “I’ll even rub your back while you’re in there.”

  “Well, my day is looking up.”

  “Our day is looking up,” Griffin corrected. “Eat your dinner first, though. I have a feeling you’re going to need the fuel.”

  “And things keep getting better and better.”

  Griffin grinned. “They do indeed.”

  “JERRY, I need you to go shopping with me for kitchen supplies,” I announced the next morning, flashing my best friend a pretty smile as he doled out peach waffles. I expected him to be happy – he loves anything to do with shopping – but the scowl on his handsome face was grotesque. “Or … not.”

  “Wow,” Griffin said, resting his hand on my upper arm. It was almost as if he was readying himself to run if Jerry attacked. “What did she say? I was proud of her for making a list of things we need and cleaning while I wasn’t there. You seem to feel a differently.”

  “Calm down, Jerry,” Aidan said, his eyes wide. He looked surprised by Jerry’s reaction as well. “She didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

  “How am I hurting his feelings?” I asked, annoyed. “He loves shopping.”

  “Yes, but he also likes cooking for you,” Aidan said. “If you start doing it for yourself, then he will lose his power over you.”

  Jerry snapped out of his reverie. “I don’t want power over her,” he argued. “I like feeding her, though. If she gets her own stuff she’s going to start cooking and then when will I see her? She won’t have to come over here for meals any longer and then she’ll forget who I am.

  “We’ll be like two strangers crossing in the parking lot,” he continued, adopting a needy tone. “One day five years from now she’ll look up and think she might remember me from a long time ago but won’t be able to place my face. We’ll just be those two former high school classmates who live next door to each other but never talk. We’ll be … the ghosts of friends past.” He pressed his hand to the spot above his heart and stared at the ceiling.

  That was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard and Aidan and Griffin clearly agreed because they burst out laughing as Jerry’s face reddened.

  “Jerry, I have no intention of cooking,” I said, patting the open seat next to me so he would sit. I wrapped my fingers around his wrist once he was settled. “I don’t want to cook. However, we might need bowls for leftovers … or if we buy pasta salad from the deli … or if I get really adventurous and make the only dessert I know how to make.”

  “What dessert is that?” Griffin asked, intrigued. “I didn’t know you could cook anything other than microwave popcorn.”

  “She makes a mean bowl of cereal, too,” Aidan offered. “Just don’t ask her to cut up a banana when she serves it. That’s one step too far.”

  I ignored them and kept my eyes on Jerry. “I’ll always want you to cook for me,” I said. “Even if I somehow decide to cook for myself, though – and the odds of that happening are very slim, mind you – I could never forget you. You’re my best friend.”

  “What about me?” Aidan prodded.

  “You’re the best twin brother I’ve ever had.”

  “That doesn’t seem fair,” Aidan argued. “I’m your only twin brother.”

  “You’re not helping,” I hissed, throwing the saltshaker at him. “Shut your mouth.”

  “Oh, I see someone has the PMS bug early this month,” Aidan said. “Everyone duck and cover.”

  “That’s not for another week,” Jerry said. “I programmed it into your calendar on your phone so you wouldn’t be surprised. Pay attention.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “You programmed … that … into his phone?”

  “Don’t kid yourself,” Aidan said. “He programmed it into everyone’s phones. Dad’s too. We need to be prepared and able to arm ourselves with candy if the need arises.”

  “You suck,” I muttered, crossing m
y arms over my chest and glancing at Griffin. “You’re the only one I like at this table right now. How does it feel?”

  “The waffles are wonderful,” Griffin said, refusing to be drawn into a fight. “They’re going to fill me up for a long time, which is good, because I have a late lunch planned today.”

  Suspicion tugged at the corners of my brain. “With who?”

  “So, Aidan, what’s your schedule look like today?” Griffin asked, avoiding the question. “I’m worried about Aisling being on her own with things starting to heat up, so if you could check in with her while I’m on assignment today that would be great.”

  His avoidance served as an answer whether he wanted to admit it or not. “What’s her name?”

  “What’s whose name?” Jerry asked.

  “Griffin has been having lunch with a multitude of women and not telling me about it,” I replied. “It’s all very … clandestine.”

  “I have not,” Griffin protested. “I occasionally have lunch with one of the detectives. Her name is Tara. It’s not as if it’s a date, though.”

  “Oh, whatever.” I pushed the sliced peaches off my waffles. For some reason even looking at them turned my stomach. “He pitched a fit yesterday when I wouldn’t say who I was having lunch with and now I find out he’s been carrying on an affair. Isn’t that … peachy?”

  “That is not even remotely true, and don’t even think of spreading that rumor to your father and brothers,” Griffin warned, waving his fork in my face. “I would never have an affair.”

  “Plus, you have to be married to call it an affair,” Jerry offered. “You two are just shacking up, so he’s merely cheating on you. It’s not an affair.”

  “Thank you, Jerry,” Griffin deadpanned. “That helps a great deal.”

  Jerry missed the sarcasm. “You’re welcome.”

  “I don’t know when you think I would have the energy to cheat on you,” Griffin pointed out. “You wear me out every night.”

  He had a point. Still … I wasn’t in the mood to be the nice girlfriend. I wanted to be bitchy. “Do whatever you want,” I said airily. “As for me, I will eat lunch alone and be sure to stay out of trouble to make you happy.”

  “Oh, good grief,” Griffin muttered, tugging a frustrated hand through his hair. “Jerry, we’re going to stop coming over here for breakfast if you insist on riling her up. She was perfectly happy before this.”

  “Hey, I’m the wronged party here,” Jerry argued. “My best friend doesn’t even remember what I look like.”

  This was getting out of hand quickly. “Forget I mentioned it, Jerry,” I said. “I don’t need mixing bowls. I’ll do without them.”

  “We can still go shopping,” Jerry offered. “Your lingerie is in dire need of refreshing.”

  “We can do that,” I said.

  “Now that sounds like a plan,” Griffin said, his smile slipping when I didn’t return it. “Oh, now what?”

  “So, what does Tara look like?”

  Aidan snorted as Griffin shook his head.

  “Oh, I love morning theater,” Aidan enthused. “We might not all be sharing the same roof, but we’re still sharing entertainment.”

  Instead of responding, Griffin pulled his phone from his pocket and started touching the screen.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, annoyance and confusion warring for supremacy.

  “I’m updating the dates Jerry programmed into my phone,” Griffin replied. “You’re clearly going to need chocolate earlier than I thought.”

  “And you’re on my naughty list, too,” I said, annoyance winning out. “I hope you’re all happy.”

  “Yes, we’re one big happy family,” Aidan said. “Can someone pass the syrup?”

  24

  Twenty-Four

  My two morning jobs were easy. I had a woman at a senior home pass, and she was more than ready to join her husband on the other side. He died twenty years earlier and she was weary of this world. I liked her because she didn’t put up a fuss – and she told me I could take her secret stash of peanut butter cups when I left. She didn’t want the nurses to get them. My second charge was a middle-aged man who died while having sex with a stripper. No joke. He was looking forward to boasting about his manner of death once he got settled in his new digs. He didn’t seem remotely upset about passing.

  After that I hit a downtown diner for lunch before I had to head to Grosse Pointe for my final job. It was close to Grimlock Manor, so that made it easy to stop in at the house and hand over my souls while checking on Serena once I was done for the afternoon. For some reason, she’d been weighing heavily on my mind since our talk the previous day.

  I was lost in thought as I sat on a bench in a city park. The woman who was supposed to expire would do it while walking her dog. I wasn’t thrilled about having to be out in public – and I had my ring handy – but it was warm enough that I didn’t freeze while waiting for her to pass by. Unfortunately, it was also warm enough for another type of dog to walk by.

  “Oh, man. What are you doing here?”

  I made a face when my arch nemesis Angelina Davenport pulled up short in front of me. She wore snug black pants, a white coat with fur trim, and matching white boots. She looked like a snow bunny. Of course, we had no snow, so that meant she essentially looked ridiculous.

  “I’m walking my new dog,” Angelina said, tugging on what could only be described as a partially naked rat’s collar for emphasis. The small yapper also wore a white sweater. One of my pet peeves is animals dressed as people, so I hated the tiny terror instantly. Because I generally prefer animals to people, that meant the dog was surely the Devil incarnate. “What are you doing here?”

  “Oh, I was just waiting for a meeting with your pimp,” I replied, pursing my lips. “He says he wants to start instituting regular beatings because you’re falling down on the job – and not in the good way like you usually do. We’re going to come up with a new merit system for you.

  “If you do a good job from now on, he’ll reward you with a dog treat and make you bark as you wiggle your butt,” I continued. “If you do a bad job, he’ll beat the crap out of you and let me watch. He might also let me get a good hair-pull in if you’re especially nasty.”

  “Ha, ha.” Angelina made an exaggerated face as she smoothed her hair. “Your lame jokes don’t bother me. I hope you know that.”

  “Oh, really?” That sounded like a challenge. “Your pimp also told me that you have herpes but the meth helps because your johns don’t even notice because they’ve got herpes all over their faces. I hear you’re the crack pipe that keeps on giving.”

  “That doesn’t even make any sense,” Angelina shot back, her annoyance obvious as she tried to refrain from making a scene in public. That’s what we were known for, though, and I knew I would get to her eventually. “Either I’m on meth or crack. You can’t have it both ways.”

  “Oh, no,” I said, shaking my head. “I said your johns were on meth. You’re the one on crack. Get it straight.”

  “You’re such a bitch.”

  “And you’re such a ho.”

  “I hate you.”

  “I hate you more.”

  We lapsed into silence for a moment, Angelina showing no sign of leaving. That wasn’t exactly good for me since I had a charge coming through in ten minutes. Still, ten minutes was more than enough to insult her until she ran away crying – or attacked me so I could beat the snot out of her before she ran away crying. I was fine with either scenario.

  “How is Jerry?”

  Angelina’s question caught me by surprise. Then I remembered the last time I saw her. Jerry’s life was on the line and her client had him locked in a dank basement. She didn’t give me the information I needed to save him in a timely fashion so I threw her off a bar stool and choked her. For some reason, the memory made me feel guilty. It was one thing to fight with her because I enjoyed the game. It was quite another to almost kill her because she had terrible taste i
n men.

  “He’s fine,” I answered after a beat. “I heard you tried to press charges that night.”

  “I did.”

  “That didn’t work, huh?”

  Angelina scowled. “No, it didn’t work,” she said. “Everyone there told the police I was lying and that you didn’t touch me. That world-famous Grimlock charm came through for you again. Although, if I had to guess it’s far more likely that your father’s wallet came through to save you.”

  I had the same suspicion, but there was no way I was going to own up to it. “Have you ever considered that your attitude makes people turn on you?”

  “No.”

  Of course not. “Well, maybe you should,” I said. “The people in that bar didn’t take my side because they like me. I’m just as bitchy as you, but in a different way. The people took my side because they hate you. You’re a terrible person and they wanted to see you pay.”

  “I still think your father paid them off.”

  “No amount of money would make a difference to that many people if you weren’t such a mold-infested genital wart,” I pointed out. “You’ve made all of your own problems. Perhaps you’d be better off if you owned up to them and tried to be a better person.”

  Angelina barked out a hoarse laugh. “Are you kidding me? You’re much meaner than I am.”

  “And yet I still have people loyal to me.”

  “Your family and Jerry the Fairy.”

  I narrowed my eyes and leaned forward. I didn’t care what she said about me. We’d called each other some truly awful names throughout the years. Jerry was another story. She went out of her way to torture him because he was gay while we were growing up. “If you say that again, I’ll feed that dog to you.”

  Angelina wrinkled her nose. “I’m not afraid of you.” She said the words, but her expression proved otherwise. “You’re just a bully. When you stand up to a bully, they always back down and show their true colors.”

  “Except I’m not a bully,” I countered. “Oh, sure, I have bully tendencies. I don’t back down, though. I’m more than willing to feed that rat to you.”