Deadly Dozen: 12 Mysteries/Thrillers (256 page)

“That doesn’t seem fair.”

“Well, on the surface, yeah, it seems like a raw deal. But I can tell you, the universe works hard to stay in balance, and everything really does happen for a reason.”

“What reason is there to give a newborn baby less of a fighting chance to be a good person, a happy person? Who makes the rules?”

Lucas chuckled. “Well, that’s the big question, isn’t it, Love? Who indeed?” He reached over and grabbed my hand on his chest, squeezing it gently. “Just know this doesn’t mean those who are born into the Grey Tier—those who have, as you called it, the raw deal are not automatically transferred to the Black Tier at the moment of death. They just have extra work to do in the Grey to get to the White. And then there are those with vibrations like yours…” I lifted my head and looked at him. “Your spirit can wind up in the Black if you’re, well, tempted. Seduced.”

“Really? Well, what do you call this?” I laughed, gesturing at the bed, and our naked limbs intertwined beneath the sheets.

Lucas barked out a laugh. “Good point.” His smile faded. “But listen to me, because this is important.” He propped himself up on his side, giving me a long, serious look. “A seducer can come in any form. They are all around you. They make you see things in a different way, they make you feel things in a different way, they make you
want
things in a different way.”

“Like you.”

He didn’t respond immediately. “I guess, yes, like me. But I am not a seducer. It is not my goal to lead you into the Black Tier.”

“How will they try to tempt me? I’m a pretty balanced, down to earth gal … I’m not easily swayed by good looks and money.”

Lucas planted a quick kiss on my cheek. “And that’s what I like about you. But let’s think for a minute. What do you love? What do you love more than anything in the world?”

I glanced up to the ceiling above, thinking. “Cass. My mom. My dad. Even Mac.” I was a little bit afraid to say,
you
.

He nodded solemnly. “Yes. And the Black Tier could use all of them and then some. But what is your passion?”

“Music,” I said without any hesitation at all.

“Ah.” He tickled me under my chin. “Exactly.”

“But how? How would they use my music?”

“A couple of ways, really. And when one tactic doesn’t work, they’ll try something else until it works. Let’s say you played one of your songs at Nick’s. You know, a song you wrote from the heart, one you feel really speaks to your soul.”

“Oh, I can think of a few of those.”

He nodded. “Okay, so let’s say you’re up there singing and playing this song and when you’re finished, no one claps. Or maybe people even get up and leave while you’re performing. And then someone with a review blog says Nick’s would be an awesome dive bar if it weren’t for the bad music.”

I grimaced. “Ouch! That would hurt.”

“And that’s the exact response the Black Tier would be looking for. If you start to find pain in something that brings you so much joy, it leaves you open to their influence. Some less resilient people would simply give up. Give up their passion because of what others say, think, and feel.”

“I could never do that.”

“It happens all the time, though. You’re stronger than that. But there are many out there who aren’t, and that is exactly what the Black Tier wants. They feed off of unhappiness, off misery and depression and anger, and especially fear. You start giving up your joy, how can you spread joy to others? It might even diminish your gift to heal.”

“Well, if that would never work on me, what else could?”

“Seduction. And if I were a betting man, I think that is exactly what the Black Tier would use on you. Remember, they could make you feel strong desires, and when humans want things, it can change them, and not always for the better. Your ego takes hold, and when the ego takes over, your vibration loses power.” He shook his head and let out a deep sigh. “That’s what happened to me. But fortunately, the Bodha saw enough good left to allow me to stay here in the Grey. And now, with you…”

“With me? What?” I was all ears.

“Well, I’ll have an opportunity to shift tiers.
If
I handle this correctly.”

“What do you mean handle
this
correctly?” I was beginning to feel less like Lucas’ romantic interest and more like his project again. “Do you mean me? This situation?”

He glanced away. “In a sense.”

“And … wait a minute. You’ll have the opportunity to shift tiers? Does that mean when your
project
is finished, you’ll just move on? Poof? And I won’t see you anymore?” If I could, I would have hit him with my pillow. Suddenly I realized how exposed I was on the bed and I wrapped the sheet tighter around me.

Lucas turned and grabbed me gently. “Evie, you should know you’re more than a project to me.” He let his eyes roam over my body, the bed, the luster shimmering around us. “This isn’t exactly a perk I throw in to sweeten the deal.” He smiled wryly.

But I was still not in the mood for jokes.

“Do you want to know what happens when a spirit gets to the White Tier?” His hand gently stroked the side of my cheek.

I didn’t answer. But I nodded quickly.

He reached his hand up and pulled the luster down. It enveloped us tighter than before, like a cocoon.

“What I’m about to tell you is something that must be kept between you and I. Not all spirits, especially those from the Black Tier, knows what happens at the White level.”

I nodded again, this time feeling more focused on what he was saying.

His voice lowered to a whisper. “The White Tier, or the Bodha, gives us two options. One is to remain on that tier, simply being and holding a light out to bring other spirits to us. But there is another choice. We are allowed five memories. We can choose anything from the Grey, any moment in time. It doesn’t matter what it is. We can rotate those memories and relive them continuously. We can intertwine the memories and make new ones—new storylines so to speak. I would choose that option. The memories.”

Lucas drew me closer to him, so close our mouths were almost touching.

“I only need one. One memory. I would ask to be here with you in this moment, Evie. For eternity.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

“EVIE! YOU ARE GOING to get me unwanted publicity with your Nancy Drew crap.”

I was at Simone’s applying a fresh coat of paint on her face for an evening charity event. She was less than pleased at how last night turned out. I, on the other hand, couldn’t have been happier. Thoughts of Lucas began to dance sensuously in my head.

“Evie!” Simone reached up and poked me hard. “What is going on with you? I don’t think you’ve heard a thing I’ve said.” She threw up her arms in exasperation, almost knocking the applicator brush out of my hand.

“Look,” she said, her voice suddenly calmer, “I know you want to solve Nick’s murder. I get he was your friend and you feel like the police aren’t moving fast enough. But I need you to let the cops do their job, okay? I mean, did you even read the paper?”

I paused for a moment, staring at her. “Do
you
read the paper?” I was genuinely curious. Simone may be a talented gal but I’d never take her for the type who spends her time reading for fun.

“Yes, I do, as a matter of fact. I read three papers every day.
The Wall Street Journal
,
The Los Angeles Times,
and
The New York Times
. I get them all on my Kindle.”

I reached down into my makeup kit to grab another brush. “So, what’s this about the paper?”

Simone rolled her eyes heavenward. “About George Hernandez and Pietro SanGiacomo. Hernandez was arrested and he ratted out SanGiacomo. The cops are almost positive they had a hit out on your friend Nick.” She reached across me to her dresser and pulled a sleek, black tablet computer off the top. “Here take a look.” She turned it on, found what she was looking for, and handed it to me. “Read it.”

My eyes quickly skimmed the article. “Okay … so it sounds like the police think they may be able to solve Nick’s murder.”

“So stop playing cops and robbers, Bestie. It’s not safe for you, and it could be bad press for me.” She clicked her newly polished nails on the sides of the antique vanity chair. “Besides, I have someone coming to listen to you next week. I’m taking you into the studio.”

“Really?” My heart started thumping hard in my chest.

“Yes, really.”

I squealed and gave her a quick hug.

“Watch the face, Chicken Little! I don’t want to spend another hour in this chair getting touchups.”

Chicken Little? Where she came up with this stuff I had no clue, but at the moment I didn’t care! I jumped back, nodding eagerly. “Oh thank you, Simone. Thank you so much.” I quickly sprayed some shimmer lightly across her perfectly angled cheeks. “Can I ask you one more favor?”

She rolled her eyes. “Only if we can go back to fucking Denny’s soon.”

“We can.” Here goes nothing. “Um, I’d like you to come by Nick’s place and meet somebody.”

Simone’s eyes widened and then she smiled slyly. “Look at you trying to set me up. That’s sweet but I don’t need any help.”

I placed my hands on my hips. “Duh, Diva.” I winked at her and she smiled. “No. It’s not that.” I started feeling nervous again. “Um, do you remember when you said you might be interested in buying the bar?”

“I was buzzed. I say lots of stupid shit when I’ve been drinking.”

“Hear me out,” I said. “The guy who owns it now, Joshua Styles, he’s a good guy but cash flow is tight. He’s an amazing chef and he’s looking to fix the place up.”

Her gaze narrowed perceptively. “You like him, don’t you?”

“No! I mean, well, I like him as a friend but…”

“Is he hot?”

I didn’t respond right away. “I guess you’ll never know unless you come to the bar and see for yourself.”

“Oh brother. Fine! I’ll meet this guy you don’t like and see what he has to offer.”

I hugged her again, but with a little less enthusiasm. The fact is, I
did
like Joshua as a friend. And he was very easy on the eyes. And, of course, there was Lucas … but who knew how long he’d be around? As for Simone, well, I had yet to meet a man who wasn’t instantly bowled over by her good looks and star power. So while I really wanted to help Joshua, I was also a bit uncomfortable throwing Simone and him together. Which was pretty damn selfish of me, and I decided then and there to get over myself, pronto.

I finished her makeup and then helped Simone into her evening gown. It was long, beaded, and red, and silhouetted her figure beautifully. If I got to wear designer dresses like that all the time, I might be more interested in changing my jeans and t-shirt look. We walked out of her place together. Dwight was waiting for her in an expensive Italian suit by the front door. They stepped into the Bentley.

Simone rolled down her window and yelled, “See you tomorrow!”

I waved half-heartedly, knowing exactly how Cinderella must have felt watching her stepsisters going off to the ball. Only Simone was hardly an ugly stepsister.

As the limo’s taillights faded down the drive, I opened the door to my van and drove off to my second job.

Once there, Becky greeted me with a cold shoulder. She refused to make eye contact at all.

Candace leaned towards me over the bar. “What crawled up her ass?”

I shrugged, knowing full well what Becky’s problem was.

“Boy likes you,” Mumbles chimed in.

“Aha!” Candace’s face lit up and she pointed a gnarled finger at me. “That’s it! Becky clearly doesn’t like being replaced by another woman, especially when the man in question is her son.” She lowered her voice a tad. “Watch out with her. As I well know, she has claws.”

I didn’t disagree. Instead, I turned to Mumbles and smiled.

“Mumbles, you think all the guys have eyes for me.”

He smiled gently and his green eye lit up. “They do!”

“You are sweet, but wrong.”

Candace knocked back another swig of her drink and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Oh, I don’t know. I think Mumbles is right about this one.” Then she peered at me for a long moment. “I heard about Jackson. Was he really found dead in your pool?”

I’d been waiting for someone to bring Jackson up. According to Simone, there’d been a small article in the local section of the paper this morning. I hadn’t wanted to read it. I guess since it was a more or less an open and shut case, the reporters weren’t all that interested in the story. “He was. It was horrible.”

“Told you. Bad guy,” Mumbles mumbled.

I sighed. “You did, Mumbles. But I still feel bad he had to die at all. Apparently he suffered from manic depression or something like that, so who knows how much of what we saw of him in the bar was the
real
Jackson.”

Candace stirred her drink with a finger. “Kind of bizarre he died the same way as Roger.”

I stopped wiping down the bar and looked at her for a few seconds. “Yes. Yes I guess it is.”

“What did the police say?” she asked.

“They think it was an accident. There were no signs of foul play and no tracks on the property other than Jackson’s.”