Grim Tempest Page 3

  “Those were different colors, Bug,” Jerry insisted. “One was eggshell, which is my personal favorite. The other two were corn silk and Dutch white.”

  “They were all the same color.”

  “They were not,” Jerry sputtered, his fury from the original argument returning. “You’re color blind if you think those were the same colors.” He turned to Mom for help. “Tell her that eggshell is the way to go.”

  Mom looked caught. “Well, um, I didn’t see the samples, Jerry.”

  “I brought them.” Jerry pointed toward the end of the street. “There’s a coffee shop. I thought we could go over a few things while we all have an opening in our schedules.”

  I felt ridiculously ambushed. “Jerry, I’m working.”

  “I happen to know this is your last charge of the day.” Jerry was firm. “You have plenty of time for a wedding strategy mission.”

  “A wedding strategy mission sounds like something the G.I. Joe characters wouldn’t be keen to participate in,” I muttered under my breath.

  Jerry was attuned to my moods and had very good hearing. “You’ll live.”

  “Whatever.” I could’ve fought the decision, but I knew if I did I’d ultimately lose. Not only that, but Jerry would punish me if I dared walk away from the opportunity to enjoy his vast wedding knowledge. “I could use some coffee.”

  “Don’t sound so excited, Bug,” Jerry drawled, falling into step with me as I glanced back at Harry’s house. “It’s only your wedding. Frowns and dramatic sighs are what every bride should wear for the big day.”

  “It’s not the big day yet.” I licked my lips as I forced my eyes back to the front. “As for wedding plans, I don’t see why I even have to be involved because you’re the one who ultimately gets to make all the decisions, Jerry.”

  “That’s because I have the best taste.” As if he didn’t want me to challenge him on that fact, Jerry picked up his pace. “Come on. Caffeine is calling.”

  I shook my head as I watched him, my emotions jumbled.

  “He’s a lot to deal with, huh?” Mom asked, moving to my side. “You love him, but you want to strangle him. It’s written all over your face. That’s often how I felt about you lot when you were growing up.”

  It felt odd to discuss my childhood with a woman I was convinced was sucking souls to survive, but it was a better conversation than the white linens debacle. “He’s just excited.”

  “He seems more excited than you,” Mom noted, smiling at the sun as it peeked through the clouds. “I think it’s going to turn into a nice day after that storm earlier.”

  “It feels it,” I agreed.

  “About the wedding,” Mom hedged, turning serious. “If you’re having doubts, you have plenty of time to back out.”

  The statement was innocent enough. She sounded like a concerned mother trying to talk to her daughter about potential problems. The thing is, I knew differently. Ever since she turned back up, she’d had issues with Griffin.

  I couldn’t put my finger on why. Part of me wondered if it was because she simply didn’t want me marrying a police officer. It wouldn’t be the easiest life because I would worry if he was late and wonder if something bad happened if he missed a text. Of course, I was a grim reaper and I’d been in ten times the danger that Griffin had since we’d hooked up. There were obstacles in every relationship.

  In truth, I fell for Griffin because I couldn’t do anything else. From the moment I saw him there was something that drew me to him. He claimed to feel the same, as if destiny was somehow exerting a guiding hand. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be that schmaltzy, but I knew I loved him and he was genuinely the only option for me.

  “I want to marry Griffin.” I kept my tone firm, hoping I didn’t sound as if I was spoiling for a fight, even though I was more than willing to engage in one if it came to that. “We belong together and we’re happy.”

  “But you seem to be dragging your feet on the wedding.”

  “No, I’m dragging my feet on Jerry’s vision of the wedding,” I corrected. “I don’t want some big overblown affair, but that appears to be exactly what I’m getting. I’d be happy getting married barefoot on a beach, quite frankly. Jerry and Dad have vetoed that option.”

  “Your father simply wants you to have the best.”

  “I know.” This was Dad’s lone shot to be the father of the bride. Being the father of the groom wouldn’t be nearly as entertaining for him. “The wedding decisions are getting to be a bit much. I’m looking forward to the marriage, though. That’s the most important thing.”

  Mom didn’t look convinced. “Aisling, you don’t have to say that if you don’t mean it.”

  I bit back an annoyed retort and tugged on my flagging patience. “I mean it. I know you don’t like Griffin, but I love him.”

  Mom balked. “I didn’t say that I dislike Griffin.”

  No, but she’d shown it multiple times. “You might want to let it go,” I suggested, reaching for the café’s door and holding it open so Mom could enter before me. “If you push too hard on Griffin, he won’t be the one removed from the situation.” I was deadly serious. “I’m getting sick and tired of hearing your opinion when it comes to him. When you try to be sneaky about it – like you are today – it makes me even angrier.”

  Mom locked gazes with me, something dark passing through her eyes. I couldn’t quite get a handle on the emotion before she spoke. “I’m not trying to undermine Griffin.”

  I didn’t believe it. More importantly, she recognized I didn’t believe it. Still, a busy coffee shop was the last place to have this argument. “See that you don’t.”

  I dragged my eyes from Mom’s face when a rumble of thunder caught my attention. I shifted my gaze to the busy street in front of the coffee shop and frowned when I realized the sun had completely disappeared.

  “I didn’t know it was supposed to storm again,” Mom supplied, changing course.

  “I didn’t either. I thought it was just the one storm and then it was supposed to be clear for the rest of the week.”

  “I guess the weather forecasters were wrong.”

  “What else is new?” I closed the café door as the first drops of rain hit the pavement. It was soft at first, barely a sprinkle. It turned into a tempest quickly, though, and before I could even move to the counter to place a drink order the fat rain pellets were bouncing off the sidewalk due to the velocity with which they hit.

  “It took you long enough to get here,” Jerry complained, barely sparing a glance for the storm. “I have linens for you to look at. I have some bouquet ideas, too. I also think that we should discuss what you’re going to do with your hair.”

  I swiveled quickly, my dark hair flying. “What do you mean by that? I’m not getting a haircut.”

  “I know you’re not.” Jerry rolled his eyes as if I’d said the silliest thing in the world. “No one expects you to get a haircut, Bug. Your hair is lovely. I even think the white streaks will look divine with your gown. But I do think we need to have a discussion about you wearing it up.”

  “Oh, I like the sound of that.” Mom’s smile was quick and easy. “She has a long and graceful neck. She would look beautiful with her hair up.”

  “I’m not wearing my hair up,” I argued. “I don’t like wearing my hair up. I prefer it down.”

  “Yeah. We’ll talk.” Jerry patted my hand. “I’m going to snag a table with your mom. Order coffee and Danish for everyone and bring it to the table when it’s ready.”

  I made a face. “Since when am I the group waitress?”

  “Since we’re going out of our way for your wedding,” Jerry replied. “Make sure you get my latte with nonfat milk.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I was annoyed beyond belief with my best friend when I turned toward the barista behind the counter, a trio of orders on my tongue. I stopped before I could issue drink orders when I saw the look on the young woman’s face. She was focused on the front of the building rather tha
n me, forcing me to swivel. “What’s going on?”

  She stared out the front window, her curiosity and worry obvious. “Look at that.”

  I followed to where she pointed and frowned when I saw the two men on the sidewalk throwing punches. They screamed at one another – words I couldn’t quite make out – and pummeled each other with frightening belligerence.

  “They were just talking normally right before the rain hit,” the barista said. “I don’t know what happened. It was like … a switch flipped or something. They just started beating the crap out of each other.”

  That was definitely odd. “Maybe we should call the police,” I suggested.

  “Yeah. I’ll do that.”

  I didn’t know what else to do so I watched. The fight was straight out of Rocky and neither man looked to be giving up.

  “Call for an ambulance, too,” I called out. “I think one or both of them will need a trip to the emergency room.”

  3

  Three

  “And then one guy pulled the other guy’s hair – which revealed a certain toupee situation – before the other guy popped him in the jaw and knocked him out.”

  I enthusiastically reenacted the fight outside the coffee shop for Griffin once he got home from work that afternoon, wiggling my hips and hopping back and forth so he could grasp which character I was at any given moment.

  “It sounds like quite the fight,” Griffin offered, his feet resting on the coffee table as he reclined on the couch. “I’m surprised you didn’t go outside and try to stop it.”

  “It was raining.”

  Griffin cocked an eyebrow. “I’ve never known you to be afraid of inclement weather.”

  “It was raining hard.”

  Griffin grinned as he made room for me on the couch. He patted the open spot enticingly. “Come sit with me and I’ll make sure you don’t get stormed on.”

  “That could go in a dirty direction if you’re not careful,” I pointed out, sliding into the spot and resting my head against his chest as he slipped an arm around me. “What do you want to do about dinner?”

  “I’ve been fixating on that all day because I missed lunch,” Griffin replied. “I was thinking we should have something delivered. We can either do that Takeout Waiter app and get Middle Eastern or do pizza and wings. It’s your choice.”

  “Middle Eastern.”

  Griffin snorted, his dark hair tickling my cheek as he shifted. “Somehow I knew you were going to say that.” He rested his hand on my abdomen as he got comfortable. “How was your day otherwise?”

  It was a normal conversation, I realized. I was a reaper and collected souls for a living, yet the easy nature of our relationship and Griffin’s accepting attitude made things comfortable despite how different our work worlds were. This was the thing I wanted forever, even if I had to suffer through the world’s most overblown wedding to get it.

  “Mostly boring,” I answered after a beat. “Although, do you know who I absorbed today?”

  “I’m almost afraid to hazard a guess.”

  “Harry Turner.”

  Griffin stilled. “That name sounds familiar, as if I should know him. Why do I recognize that name?”

  “Because he is – or I guess was is more apt now – the Royal Oak police chief.”

  “Seriously?” Griffin smoothed my hair away from my face so he could see my reaction. “Do you know how he died?”

  I shrugged. “I can’t really remember. He took a header off the couch, though, so I think it was a heart attack or something. There was no blood or guts, so I’d would rule out murder.”

  “Unless it was poison.”

  “Good point, but that’s not the vibe I got, and I can’t remember caring enough to look. He was a bit crabby when he figured out who I was, by the way.”

  “So you talked to him?” Griffin’s expression shifted to something more serious. “I thought you were told to suck and run and not engage your charges. I believe I’ve heard more than one family conversation about just that.”

  I stuck out my tongue to show my maturity. “Thank you, Dad.”

  “Ha, ha.” Griffin poked my side. “I’m not telling you how to do your job. That’s your deal. I’m curious why you decided to talk to him, though.”

  “It was because a storm was coming and I didn’t want to be forced out into it. I thought he might be interesting to talk to. It turns out he was more dismissive than anything else.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  I told him about my conversation with Harry, including the part about his back, which sent Griffin into gales of laughter. When I was done, he’d calmed enough to be thoughtful.

  “So he basically told you that Mark Green closed the case on you?”

  Griffin’s keen interest surprised me. “What else was he going to do? I clearly didn’t kill the guy on the street … or the one who ended up in our backyard … and no one can tie me to the bodies discovered at the cemetery.”

  After the zombie attack – something I still had trouble wrapping my head around – we’d accidentally left several bodies behind in the cemetery where the final fight occurred. My father’s home office employees – just think of them as part of the grim reaper happy cleaning service – thought they’d found every one, but they’d missed a couple of bodies in the bushes. The evening news was spinning it as a local mystery, but the story was quickly losing steam, forgotten in the wake of the next if-it-bleeds-it-leads item.

  “I know, but I couldn’t help but wonder if Mark was going to keep watching you for a bit,” Griffin admitted, referring to the detective who had hounded me for days. “He seemed determined that you had something to do with what happened.”

  “I technically did have something to do with it, simply not in the manner he thought.”

  “Either way, I’m glad to know he’s stepping back from the investigation.” Griffin ran his fingers over mine, absently tracing between them. “So how did Harry take it when he realized he couldn’t make a call?”

  “He was agitated and annoyed, but ultimately there was nothing he could do.”

  “Well, I guess what’s done is done.” Griffin rested his chin on my shoulder. “I don’t suppose you could order dinner now, could you? I’m exhausted and starving. It’s going to make for a cranky combination in about an hour.”

  “Sure.” I could order dinner without talking to a live person so I was more than willing to order. I grabbed my phone and tapped on the app. “What do you want?”

  “A steak kebab dinner with rice and a fattoush salad.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll get the same.”

  “Order something sweet for dessert, too,” Griffin ordered.

  “Don’t I count?”

  “Someone is feeling romantic.” Griffin’s tone was full of teasing. “I’ll romance your sweet socks off later. I want cake or something. I need the sugar rush.”

  I added the item to the order and sent it before turning my full attention to Griffin. Now that I was done talking about my day – a story that took thirty minutes when it could’ve been shared in five – I realized he looked exhausted. His day had clearly been worse than mine.

  “Tell me about what you did today,” I prodded.

  Griffin shrugged, noncommittal. “It was the standard stuff. I don’t have an open case at the moment so I spent most of the day doing paperwork. I did get called out during the storm because we had a sudden rash of violent incidents. It was a little weird.”

  That sounded strange. “What kind of incidents?”

  “The initial call came in during the first storm. It involved a car accident on Woodward.” Griffin didn’t appear agitated while sharing the story. “One driver blamed another driver, and then the drivers of two cars involved after the initial crash joined the argument. It was basically everyone screaming, pointing fingers and threatening to sue one another.”

  “That sounds like a delightful day. Did you get wet?”

  “Yes, and I didn’t ev
en melt.”

  “You’re a big tub of melting goo,” I countered. “I plan to prove that after you’ve eaten your cake.”

  “I look forward to you trying. I was only outside for thirty seconds, though. Then the uniforms showed up and I foisted it off on them.”

  “What about the rest of your day?” Something was bothering him. He didn’t often share tidbits about his cases, probably because I had enough doom and gloom in my work that he didn’t want to overload me, but I recognized he needed to talk about something.

  “The rest of the afternoon was a little odd,” Griffin admitted, his expression turning troubled. “I don’t know how to explain it. It was as if a toxic gas of irritation fell over the city for twenty minutes. It happened really fast and then was done.”

  “And it happened to coincide with the storm?”

  Griffin nodded. “The second storm, yeah. The first one there were only a few incidents and they were all normal. That second storm, though, that was something else. I think that’s what added to the agitation. It was coming down hard.”

  “Which is why I didn’t go outside to break up the fight. It was a safety issue.”

  “I don’t want you breaking up fights between strange men regardless. It definitely is a safety issue, just not how you meant it. As for the rain, though, it seemed to come out of nowhere and it flooded the old streets quickly. Usually we have some notice before that happens.”

  “Yeah, I thought about that, too.” I moved my legs so I could rest them on his lap and turned to face him. “The forecasters mentioned the first storm, but the second seemed to come out of nowhere. That’s weird, right?”

  Griffin smiled, amusement lighting his handsome features as he moved his hands to my feet and started rubbing. “Now that you were right about the zombies, does this mean you’re going to start attaching nefarious motivations to other things?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The storm. You’re acting as if someone created the storm to cause problems.”