Dead Is the New Black (2 page)

"What man? And why?"

"The county coroner, Bud Larson. Because he's an idiot," she burst out. Then she sighed and said, "Forget I said that, Daisy. I'm frustrated and I'm taking it out on him."

I was quiet, hoping she would say more.

"He refuses to believe that my contributions are real, which means he doesn't spend any time on any of the cases I consult on."

"But that's not fair," I protested. No matter what, I knew my mom was right. She never made a mistake about her psychic readings.

"No, it's not," she agreed, "but fortunately, Nightshade's chief of police believes that my contributions are worth risking the wrath of the coroner's office."

"Chief Mendez is right," I said loyally. "You've helped so many people."

"But people like Bud Larson are afraid of the unknown, and psychics are part of that unknown."

Poppy and Rose came in while we were talking. They carried a large dessert tray.

"We thought we could have dessert in here," Rose said.

Mom nodded. "Poppy, why don't you get the TV trays. Daisy, this looks great." She held up a dish of ice cream and strawberries.

"Poppy must have made it." I'd forgotten about dessert, and ice cream was Poppy's favorite.

There was silence in the room while we all dug in.

"Rose," my mom said, "do you have a minute to take a look at something?"

"Sure," Rose said, popping a strawberry into her mouth. "What is it?"

Mom took a deep breath. "I might as well tell you all. I need help with a case."

Stunned silence. Mom never, ever needed help with a case.

"You never ask for help," Poppy said, tactful as usual.

"There's a file I want Rose to see. I can't get a reading on the body." My sisters and I searched Mom's troubled face. She continued, "The female victim was an unidentified young, healthy girl who seemed to just drop dead, and I can't determine why."

"Are you losing your psychic abilities?" Poppy blurted it out. "Are you becoming a—norm?"

The horror in her voice irritated me. I don't know what the big deal was. Being a "norm" wasn't so bad.

"You've had tough cases before," I reminded her. "Like that guy in Sydney, remember? Turned out he was bitten by a spider and the bite was so small that you barely got anything."

"This is different," Mom replied. "I sensed violence—someone taking something she didn't want to give, but there wasn't any sign of an injury. It's like someone just drained her of her life force. The coroner's office is stumped."

"Tell us what you know about the victim," I suggested.

"Not much, I'm afraid," Mom said. "A female approximately fifteen to seventeen years old. The police think she was a runaway. No signs of physical trauma. But I can't even get a glimpse of a childhood memory. It's like every thought, every feeling she had was erased."

"Why can't I help?" The question burst out of me.

"If she gets to, I'm helping, too," Poppy said.

"I don't think so, Daisy." Mom shook her head. Firmly.

Poppy gave a triumphant crow, and Mom turned to her with a frown. "You either. I wouldn't have asked Rose, but she's the oldest and most experienced."

"But I want to help," I said.

"I know you do, honey," Mom said. "But I need Rose's help now."

"You mean Rose's psychic abilities," I said. I pushed away my dessert, suddenly no longer hungry. Resentment had a way of filling up your stomach. "May I be excused?"

Without waiting for an answer, I stomped off to my room. Not the most mature reaction, I admit, but I couldn't help it. I was so sick of Rose and Poppy having a part of Mom's life. A part I couldn't share. I knew I'd be able to help her with this case, if she'd just let me.

I had lots of detective-like skills, such as the ability to tell if someone was lying. Having an ex-friend like Samantha Devereaux had taught me that lesson.

After pouting for a few minutes, I had an idea. As I tiptoed downstairs, I heard my name.

"It's hard for Daisy," Mom said. "You girls need to try to include her more in your activities."

"There's so much she doesn't understand," Poppy said. "She's a
norm,
Mom. It's time you admit it."

"She's a late bloomer," Mom said. "You'll see. But normal or not, she's still your sister, and I expect you to treat her as such."

I forgot that the bottom step creaked and put my weight on it. The sound gave me away.

"Daisy, is that you?" Mom called from the family room.

"Yes, it's me," I said, pretending that I hadn't heard anything. I stepped into the family room. Poppy was sprawled on the couch and Mom and Rose were on either side of her. A cozy circle. A circle that excluded me.

I made a face. "I just want the cordless to call Ryan."

"Wow, Daisy, I didn't know you had it in you," Poppy said. "He
is
a hottie, but maybe a little out of your league."

"He's my
friend,
remember, Poppy? Don't be disgusting," I said. "Can I have the cordless?"

"Friend, huh? That may have been true when you were both playing in the sandbox, but if you haven't noticed, Ryan is all grown up now."

She crowed even louder when she saw the blush spread across my face. "I knew it! You do have a thing for him."

Too embarrassed to reply, I just held out my hand for the phone. Poppy usually carried the phone around like it was her security blanket. She reached under a pillow and handed it to me.

I stomped up the stairs. Poppy was such a pain in the butt sometimes. Even if I was interested in Ryan, I didn't have a chance. Not with Samantha Devereaux in existence.

I shut my bedroom door and locked it. Poppy's talents didn't include psychic eavesdropping, and Rose would never stoop so low, but there was still the garden variety of eavesdropping, like loitering outside the door to listen.

This was something I definitely didn't want my sisters to hear.

I took a deep breath and dialed Ryan's number. It was just Ryan, who I'd known all my life. Ryan, who'd shot up a foot the summer before high school. Ryan, with his green eyes and dark brown hair, hair that looked so soft I wanted to touch it.

"Mendez residence, Ryan speaking." Ryan's dad insisted he answer the phone that way. You know, the polite way.

There was a lump in my throat, which blocked my power of speech. Damn that Poppy! She had to open her big mouth and make me think about Ryan in that way.

"Hello?" Ryan said. "Daisy?"

Caller ID. Sometimes I hated technology. Like now, when it would have been so easy just to hang up.

"Hey, Ryan," I said finally.

"What's up?"

I'd called Ryan lots of times, but this was different because I needed a favor. A big one.

"Can you meet me tonight?" I asked.

"Uh, sure. Where?" Ryan's voice sounded resigned, not exactly the reaction I wanted from the hottest guy in school. I reminded myself I had no interest in Ryan Mendez.

"At the diner at around ten thirty." Slim's Diner was conveniently located across from the police station.

"Daisy, my curfew is midnight." Ryan's dad was strict, being the police chief and all.

"I know, I know. It won't take long."

"Okay," he said. "Do I want to ask what you're getting me into this time?"

"It's no biggie," I said, "but bring that extra set of keys. You know the ones." We both knew his dad kept a spare set of office keys at the house.

He groaned in exasperation, but he didn't say no.

Chapter Two

Ryan was late. I checked my watch again. Definitely late.

I was the only one left in the place. Flo (her name really was Flo) came over and asked me pointedly, "Can I get you anything else?" Which was restaurant code for "You're the only one left in the place, so quit nursing that Sprite and skedaddle."

"Slow night?" I asked, hoping that conversation would distract her.

"The tips have been lousy," she groused. 'And my feet are killing me."

Flo talked like some world-weary waitress from the fifties, the kind who showed up on late-night television musicals, but she was only twenty, hard-bodied, and with serious tats. And if you had asked her to wear a pink uniform and scarf, she would have shoved it down your throat. She wore jeans to work, along with one of her unending supply of T-shirts with slogans. This one said "VIRGINITY IS A STATE OF MIND."

I was afraid virginity would be a permanent state, in my case.

"I'm waiting for someone," I said. "He should be here any minute."

A second later, loud music filled the room. We both jumped.

"New jukebox," Flo explained. "It's a little touchy. It plays what it wants to."

I stared at her. We were the only two people in the place. "Who put the money in?"

The song playing was "Here Comes Your Man" by the Pixies.

Flo shrugged. "Nobody. It's just different from other jukeboxes. Slim called someone to come out and fix it and everything. He couldn't find a thing wrong with it."

Flo glanced over my shoulder at someone who was coming into the diner and gave a sparkling smile. You didn't have to be a psychic to know it was Ryan.

"It's about time," I said, without turning around. Flo only smiled like that for Ryan.

He sat down across from me. "How'd you know it was me?"

"I have my ways." I smirked.

"Sorry I'm late. I had something to take care of." He turned to Flo. "Can I have a cup of coffee? Whatever's in the pot is fine."

"That swill? Don't be silly," Flo said. "I'll make you a fresh pot."

Flo didn't use words like
silly.
It sounded so girlish, so flirtatious. So not Flo. Ryan did seem to have that effect on the opposite sex.

I frowned and looked at the clock again. "You'd better get your coffee to go," I told him. I wanted to make sure we had plenty of time to investigate.

"Daisy, are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Of course I'm sure," I said. I ignored the fact that if Mom found out, I'd probably be grounded until graduation. Mine, not Poppy's.

After Ryan paid the check and Flo handed him a huge cup of coffee to go, we were finally ready.

"Did you remember the keys?" I asked him once we were outside.

He nodded. "What do you need them for this time?"

"The morgue." I didn't look at him when I said it.

"New hobby?"

"I need to look at a dead body."

"Of course you do," he said. "What else would you do in the morgue?" He took my arm as we crossed the street. "Well, we'd better hurry. Officer Denton is about to take his nightly cigarette break."

I wondered briefly how Ryan knew so much about Officer Denton's habits, but the feel of his hand on my arm distracted me.

Main Street was empty of people. There weren't even any cars in sight, except the lone police cruiser parked in front of the station.

Ryan looked up and down the street. "We really need to get a movie theater or something. It's like the town dies every night at eight."

We weren't really going to the
actual
morgue. The nearest real morgue was in Santa Cruz, but "the cooler," as I'd heard Chief Mendez call it, was the place where bodies could be temporarily stored in Nightshade. This body would probably be shipped off to Santa Cruz before the weekend was over, so we had to act fast.

As we neared the side door, the sound of Officer Denton's voice carried in the night air. "But honey, I think we should wait until..."

His voice faded, but I could tell he was pacing outside as he smoked a Marlboro and he talked on the phone with Tammy Clarkson, his girlfriend of twelve years. Everyone in town had a pool about when he was going to pop the question. I had a five spot on Valentine's Day 2020, but I'm a romantic.

Ryan rummaged in his pocket and withdrew a set of keys. When he handed them to me, I fit the key in the lock. The door opened with a groan. We froze, but we could still hear Officer Denton talking on his cell.

"If my dad catches us—"

"He won't," I promised rashly. "We'll only be a few minutes."

Once we were inside, it took me a few minutes to get my courage up. I flicked on the pen-sized flashlight I'd brought and shone it around the room.

There was a beat-up metal desk and a filing cabinet in one corner. The remainder of the room was taken up by a long table, and along the other wall, a row of refrigerated steel drawers.

The cooler was not the place to stash a cold soda. The cooler was the place to stash a dead body. I gulped.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Ryan asked. His voice sounded soft, concerned. His hand brushed mine, and every molecule in my body jumped to meet him.

"I have to do this," I replied after a minute. "Mom needs my help. She just doesn't know it yet. Can you guard the door?"

Ryan went off to play lookout while I did some snooping.

All the talk at school about vampires had me spooked, but I took a deep breath and approached the cooler.

A gust of cold air slammed the breath from my body when I opened the first compartment. To my relief, it was empty. I knew I didn't have much time for snooping, but I'd never seen a dead body before and it wasn't something I was looking forward to. I shivered and breathed in through my mouth. There was a strong chemical smell in the room, but it couldn't completely disguise another, more unpleasant odor. I steeled myself not to think about it and opened another drawer.

There she was—a shell that used to be a person.

I could tell she'd probably been attractive when she was alive—red hair, petite figure. Her shoulders were bare and she looked cold, draped in a white sheet. I resisted the urge to put my jacket around her thin shoulders. I checked her neck, looking for fang marks. I felt a little ridiculous doing it, but anything was possible in Nightshade. Her neck was long and white, but it didn't have a mark on it.

I didn't know what I was doing. Why had I tried to help? This death stuff was way beyond my abilities. I wasn't psychic. I wasn't a detective. What I knew about solving mysteries could be found in the pages of a Nancy Drew novel.

On her right hand was a smudged ink stamp. I could just make out the word
Opal.