Utterly Dead: An Afterlife Adventures Novel

By Jordaina Sydney Robinson

Newly dead Bridget Sway is getting by. Barely.

 

Between her regular job in Afterlife Arrivals, training for her second job with IA, her community service on The Bus of Death, GA meetings, taking care of her housemates and every other ghostly commitment in between, Bridget Sway is already stretched pretty thin. Then her best friend, Sabrina, drops a bombshell—she doesn't think her death was accidental. She thinks she was murdered.

 

Even though murdered dead people usually turn into homicidal maniac dead people, Sabrina thinks if they can work out who killed her then she might be able to get the closure she needs to escape her homicidal maniac fate.

 

But when Bridget trips over the first dead body, she can't help but wonder if Sabrina's fate is already sealed.

 

If you like sassy heroines who break all the rules, laugh out loud humour and whodunnits that keep you guessing until the very end, then tag along with Bridget Sway on her afterlife adventures.

 

Afterlife Adventures Series:

#1 Beyond Dead

#2 Dead and Buried (formerly Deader Still)

#3 A Little More Dead

#4 Deader Still (formerly Dead and Buried)

#5 Utterly Dead

#6 Dead Completely

#7 Unexpectedly Dead

 

In the same universe:

An Aurora North Exposé:

#1 The Faux Fang Murders

#2 The Sham Spook Murders

#3 The Hex Hoax Murders

#4 The Mock Mummy Curse Murders

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shark Week Deadly Publishing
• Release date: Apr 29, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386213482

Book preview

Chapter One

I woke with a jolt. The kind that you get when your sleeping mind senses danger in the waking world around you. Lying still in the darkness, I listened for any indication something was amiss. An argument downstairs. Random yelling. Police sirens. There was nothing. Everything was still. Peaceful. And yet something had woken me. I couldn’t shake the feeling I wasn’t alone.

With Oz, my oh-so-sensitive parole officer two floors down, no one should have been able to sneak into my room without alerting him. Unless it was one of my housemates. But they were about as stealthy as a drunken rhino. Unless it was Lucy.

Out of my five housemates, Lucy was the only one who had openly coveted my new high heels. She’d made such a big deal out of me not letting her borrow them I’d taken to hooking them onto my headboard by the heels, just to keep them close while I slept.

In probably the worst display of a sleeping stretch, I slid my hand up to the headboard, freed the shoes and clutched them to my chest in what I hoped looked like the non-threatening way a child cuddled a toy. I secured my grip on the arches so I could use the heels as makeshift daggers. If it was Lucy, boy was she going to regret this.

Wow. Sabrina murmured. This is probably the most disturbing thing I’ve seen.

I rolled to face the voice, still holding my shoes and blinking in the darkness. Sabrina?

I have to be honest, your attachment to those shoes disturbs me.

I sat up and jabbed a heel in her direction. I thought you were Lucy, or some crazed murderer here to kill me.

"And your first thought was to cuddle your shoes?"

No, I was going to stab you with the heel. Clutching the arch of the shoe I brought the heel down in a stabbing motion. Obviously.

"You were going to stab your housemate?"

She keeps stealing my stuff. I secured my shoes back to the headboard. And I don’t appreciate the judgement in your tone.

Still, stabbing her seems a little aggressive.

I don’t mock your priorities, I’ll thank you to not mock mine. I pulled the duvet up like a wall of protection against the chill in the room. Did you open the window?

Yeah. Had to so I could get in.

And you didn’t think to close it?

I left it open in case I needed a quick escape.

Right. I got out of bed and wrapped the duvet around me like a cloak. One hand securing the duvet I reached for the window. Everything was quiet in the garden below. Looking out I remembered my room was on the third floor. You came in through the window?

Came up the drainpipe.

Like itsy bitsy spider?

More like a ninja. Sabrina sat on my bed, one eye on me and one on the door which Oz should’ve been charging through at any second.

And why are you ninjaing up my drainpipe in the middle of the night? I made sure the window was completely closed. All this talk of spiders climbing up drainpipes was not going to make for a good night’s sleep. And how are you in here without Oz knowing?

I have no clue about the Oz thing but I … I needed to talk to you. Sabrina focused on her fingers as she interlaced them and twisted them over each other, almost as if she were trying to knot them together. Her whole manner was uncharacteristically hesitant. It made the hairs on my arms stand on end.

I glanced back out of the window. I didn’t doubt Sabrina’s ninja skills as a rule, but she wasn’t what I’d call athletic. She was more on the buxom side. And surely, shimmying up three floors of drainpipe would be a push for anyone. And yet she was in my room. Even if by some crazy athletic feat she had managed that, Oz should have been charging through the door. And why wasn’t she using our phones? Why hadn’t she called me instead of randomly dropping by in the super early hours of the morning? There was only one way I could think of.

Are you dead? My voice sounded tinny and strange to my own ears.

Sabrina’s hands stilled and she looked up at me. Yes.

Yes?

Yes.

No! You can’t leave me here alone! I launched forward to touch her and stopped short, not sure if I’d go straight through her and land face first on the floor. I looked into her calm expression and collected my scattered wits. If she could be calm about this, I could be calm about this. It was just an obstacle. We could surmount it. No problem. Okay. Okay. Okay! We can fix this. We can. We can fix it. There has to be a way to fix this. We’ll … we’ll … I adjusted the duvet around me as I paced in front of her. I can —I can call Charon. He can—he’ll … do … something. We can do … something. There’ll be some sort of way around this. Everything will be fine. Absolutely fine. Let’s—okay—how—okay—let’s—yes! Tell me what happened! Start there. Tell me what happened and we’ll—we’ll just—what happened?

Sabrina winced and looked me over. Well, I’d say your mum dropped you on your head when you were little, but it had to have been more than once to cause this amount of brain damage.

What? I was never truly on my best form when I’d just woken up. How is this—I don’t— I shook my head. "What?"

Sabrina reached for me. Her cold fingers clamped onto my wrist and shook it. Of course, I’m dead, you idiot. We’re all dead.

I stared at her fingers wrapped around my wrist. Solid fingers. "I meant, doubly dead. Are you doubly dead?"

No.

I snatched my hand free of her grip and pointed in her face. "You are an awful person. Awful. You knew exactly what I meant. Why would you do that to me? I nearly had a heart attack."

Sabrina nodded. I could see that and I’m honoured that I mean so much to you.

You did. Not anymore. You’re dead to me after that. I clambered back onto the bed and braced myself against the wall, wrapped the duvet tightly around me as a barrier and let all the panic drain away. Dead to me.

Is that meant to be a pun?

To be super clear, you’re still regular one-time-dead? Like me?

Yes, I’m still regular dead.

If you’re not doubly dead, you should’ve set off Oz’s mental alarm, so how come he isn’t in here?

Sabrina focused on the door to my room and tilted her head as if she were listening for footsteps. We waited in silence. Oz didn’t come bursting through the door. Finally, she shrugged. No clue.

No, he knows. I snuggled deeper into my duvet against the chill in the room. He’s probably lying in wait to catch us doing something super wrong instead of just adequately wrong. Now, what’s so important you had to wake me up?

It’s a little … Sabrina glanced at the bedroom door and then back to me. I assumed that she didn’t want to say it out loud in case Oz heard.

Embarrassing?

No.

Illegal?

No!

I snorted. That was a ‘yes’. What did you do? How illegal are we talking? Do you need to write it down and then swallow the note, so there’s no evidence? I reached out of my warm duvet to get a pen and paper from the bedside table.

It’s nothing like that. Don’t freak out but—

Why say that? I paused mid-reach. Why would you say that? You are literally saying you’re about to tell me something I’m going to freak out over. I glanced around the still Oz-free room and an explanation for his absence hit me. "Oh, wow. Did you kill Oz?"

What?

Is that why he’s not here? I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt about that, but if Sabrina had killed him, it was likely accidental. Or she’d had an excellent reason. And she’d have only shuffled him on to the next plane of the afterlife, so it wasn’t really that big of a deal. But that meant we’d get a new parole officer and I’d worked really hard on training Oz. Although maybe we could date now that he wasn’t my parole officer. I slapped that thought down before it had finished fully forming. Maybe Charon knew a way to reverse the whole thing. "Did you bury his body already? It was thoughtful to do it without me, but we’ll need to dig it up. No, you’ll need to dig it up. Probably. Maybe. Actually, we should go and see Charon before—"

Why would I have killed Oz?

You’re here. He’s not. I shrugged and the entire duvet lifted with the movement. Logical deduction.

"The logical deduction is he’s not in here because I’d killed him. Not simply that he was out?"

I nodded. Yeah.

You think I’m capable of killing someone?

I nodded again. Yeah.

Sabrina dropped her head into her hands and sobbed. Out of nowhere. As if someone had flicked a crying switch. And not dainty little girl sobs. Like gut-wrenching emotion was being ripped from her type sobs. I’d never seen her cry before. I’d never even seen her get upset before. As far as I knew she only had two emotional states: Calm and highly irritated. I sat and watched her because I had no clue what to do. As quickly as it had started, the crying stopped. She straightened up and wiped at her face with the back of her hand, about to continue as if it hadn’t happened.

Okay, so—

Whoa, no. Not okay. I waved a duvet covered hand at her. Not okay at all. You’re freaking me out. I leaned in to examine her pupils. Are you on drugs?

Drugs?

Drugs.

Why would I be on drugs?

The crying. The spidermaning up the side of the house. I looked into her vacant expression. Are you sure you didn’t kill Oz? Or someone else? ’Cause it’s totally okay if you did. Tell me and we’ll clean it up. It’ll be fine. I can deal with that.

I haven’t killed anyone! Sabrina shrieked at me. Like, literally shrieked. She slapped the mattress so hard her hand bounced back up. Stop asking me that!

I narrowed my eyes at her. "So. Is that a hard ‘no’ on the drugs because this emotional schizophrenia is a tiny bit out of character?"

I—it’s— Sabrina covered her face with her hands. I waited, but she only sat there, covering her face. No more crazy outbursts. No more crying.

Look, whatever it is, whatever you did or didn’t do, you can tell me. I punched her arm with my duvet covered fist. Tell me and we’ll deal with it.

After a heavy sigh, Sabrina dropped her hands from her face. She pushed several strands of her blonde hair out of her face and then adjusted her ponytail. I’ve had some bizarre dreams lately.

Weird how? Like, aliens chasing you weird or you’re a cartoon character in a video game weird?

I think I might have been murdered.

I gave a slow nod. Uh-huh.

Is that all you have? I tell you I think I was murdered and could possibly turn into a crazy homicidal maniac at any moment and all you have is, ‘uh-huh’? Why isn’t this coming as a shock to you?

When we were in the F.A.T.E.S. record room trying to work out that whole medium murderer mess, Charon suggested I should check your file. I figured that meant we were either half-sisters—

"Because that’s the natural leap."

"Or you’d been murdered."

How come you didn’t tell me this?

Because I didn’t want you to turn into a raging psychopath and murder me?

Sabrina launched from my bed as if she had springs in her feet and paced across the room. Too late!

"Whoa, I thought you said you hadn’t killed anyone?"

I’m on the brink. Sabrina reached out both hands as if she were going to strangle me, but I knocked them away unconcerned and she returned to her pacing. Why would you keep this from me?

I didn’t keep it from you I just didn’t want to put it in your head. I’m sure a lot of murdered people live long and happy afterlives without becoming homicidal monsters.

"I cannot believe you didn’t tell me." Sabrina reached upwards as if she were going to strangle the air instead of me. I was happy with that progression.

I got up, duvet wrapped around me and stood in front of her to stop her pacing. "I didn’t know for sure. We still don’t know for sure. I led her back to the bed and sat her down. All the movement was sending drafts around my bare legs. What made you suddenly think this? What are your dreams about? Did you see yourself being murdered?"

No, it’s more like a fragmented memory. Or a scene from a film. I’m in my office and then something happens. Off-screen. I know something’s happening, and I know it’s bad, but I can’t see what.

You think you were murdered in your office?

Sabrina nodded. Why?

"I don’t know. I guess I figured since you thought you drowned in Corsica that was what happened. The only difference being if you were murdered. Like, your death was the same. But you were murder-drowned, you didn’t accidentally drown."

Murder-drowned? Nice. Sabrina was silent as she tightened her ponytail. I’ve been thinking about that holiday a lot since I started having that dream and I can’t remember anything about Corsica. Not one thing. I don’t think I was there.

Okay, so it’s not a great holiday destination? Or maybe you died the day you got there and that’s why you don’t remember much. Maybe the office dream is because you were working on a case before you went on holiday and you had a revelation about it before you died.

So what? Someone followed me to Corsica and of all the options they had to kill me, they chose to drown me?

When you say it like that it sounds silly.

Say it in a way that doesn’t sound silly.

"As of right this second there is nothing to say your drowning wasn’t an accident. In fact, we don’t even know if you drowned. Maybe you were hit by a bus like me. We have no evidence you were murdered at all. Maybe Charon’s hint about me checking your file was to find out that my dad got your mum up the duff before he met my mum. We could totally still be half-sisters."

Currently I find the thought of being related to your idiot self more terrifying than turning into a homicidal maniac.

It’s because you’d always be in my shadow, right? I patted her knee. I get it.

Do you really want to bait me right now? Sabrina pointed to herself. Potential. Homicidal. Maniac.

See, you’re saying that like it’s a new development. It’s not. You’ve always been this way.

Because I was murdered! Sabrina cried and slapped her chest with one hand like a monkey.

This whole random outbursts of emotion is new. And unnerving. Please stop.

Sabrina stretched her fingers wide and then balled her hands into fists while exhaling. As if she were letting the stress seep out. Do you remember what you did the day you died? The day before? The day before that?

Yeah. But so do you. You told me about diving for pearls. Was it pearls? Or oysters? It was something. You were diving for something. That was it! You said you were diving for pearls and you had a knife belt on your bikini. I remember it because we’d only just met and at the time I thought you were crazy. Now, I understand it’s typically you.

Shells. I was diving for shells. In a beige bikini. Sabrina didn’t seem happy at the memory.

You remember. That’s good.

I also remember running along the beach in a beige swimsuit. With my hair in lots of tiny little plaits with beads on the end.

I winced at the image. Two beige swimming costumes is kind of a fashion no-no. Let’s not even talk about the plaits with beads at your age. All that aside, if you remember then what’s the problem?

They’re scenes from films. It wasn’t me. My mind has filled in this murder gap with fake memories with beach scenes from films.

Why would it choose beach scenes? And you don’t know for sure—

Actually I do. Tonight was movie night for us and I just watched Ursula Andress emerge from the ocean after diving for shells in a beige bikini with a knife belt. Sabrina turned her back on me and stared out of the open window. I don’t know how I didn’t see it before.

I tugged on her arm to get her to face me. Then what do you want to do about it?

"If I can find out what happened. Why it happened. No matter how terrible it might be. I think that knowing the truth has to be better than a big blank space filled with fake memories that you know are fake. Surely that’s what makes people crazy. If they know the truth. If they seek it out, maybe it becomes something they can deal with. But not knowing, how do you deal with something you don’t know?"

I was about to argue, but then I thought of the worst possible ways to be murdered. Suffocated with an Egyptian cotton pillowcase by a jilted lover. Stabbed with the heel of your brand new Charlotte Olympia shoes in a shopping related argument. Strangled with the strap of your favourite Kate Spade handbag because you forgot to match the bag with your shoes. Automatically giving each murder a reason. A scenario. Because death without reason made no sense. Yeah, I think it might be better to know. Whatever the motive. Do you have a plan for retaliation?

I hadn’t gotten that far. I was hoping knowing the truth would give me some closure.

I’m not sure how I feel about retaliation anyway. I mean, on one hand, they killed you so they should pay. But on the other, if they hadn’t killed you, then you wouldn’t be here with me. And I’m oh-so-glad you’re here with me. Maybe we could retaliate just a little. Have you checked your file for any info?

It’s not there. Sabrina worked as a coordinator which basically meant she was a filing clerk with access to personnel files. Personnel files loaded with ridiculous amounts of information.

"Like, ‘checked out’ not there or ‘you don’t exist’ not there? Maybe if you were murdered, it wouldn’t be there. Charon implied your file—or a copy of it—was in The F. A. T. E. S. filing room. But just because he implied it was, doesn’t mean it was. He might have simply said it was to make me curious."

He did a great job of that. How long have you known for?

"I would like to point out that we still don’t know for sure and the only reason I didn’t mention it was that you seemed fine. And I didn’t want to be all, like, ‘Hey, did you have a good day today? Yeah? Awesome. Oh, by the way, I think you were murdered’ and unnecessarily turn you into a homicidal killing machine. I’m caring that way. So I’ll thank you to wind that attitude in."

Anything else you haven’t told me? Aliens walk among us? Vampires are real?

I hesitated. Actually …

"I don’t believe you! What else haven’t you told me?"

I pointed at her face. There is no need for that tone. And this only happened last night and I’ve not had a moment to tell you about it. I was going to at our GA meeting, but we got split into groups, there were people everywhere.

I’ve been here for ten minutes. Sabrina thrust her hands on her hips. She didn’t even know what she didn’t know yet and she’d clearly decided it was huge.

Yes, well, oddly, after you told me you suspected you’d been murdered, it went right out of my head.

So tell me now!

I gestured to the whole Wonder Woman stance. I really do not like this new overly-emotional Sabrina.

I swear, I’ll kill you.

You’re such a drama queen. I held up my hand before she could threaten me some more. You were right. Tommy does work for a super-secret spy agency. Sort of spy agency. They’re called the Independence Authority—

Sabrina clapped and then pointed to me. I knew it! I told you.

Yes, you’re very smart. I’m pretty sure Edith works for them too.

That figures after her showing up with him at the department store.

Last night Tommy offered me a job.

With the IA? Sabrina showed all her teeth in a grimace. Are you going to take it? I’m not sure that’s a good idea. What do we even know about them? What if they’re worse than the GBs? What are their core values? Will they support the little folks? Are they about rebellion? Do they have a bigger mission of some kind? Are they about arrests and closing cases? We should investigate after we’ve solved my murder.

Potential murder. And it’s too late for that now. I already accepted and you’re not allowed to tell anyone. My first day is tomorrow. Maybe I can talk to Tommy about investigating your murder. It would be amazing if we can do it legally somehow.

We?

Yes. I gestured between us. We. It’s your murder. It’s only fair you’re involved. Maybe I can deputise you or something. No one is supposed to know, but I told him I’d only take the job if I could tell you, Oz and my housemates.

You’re going to tell your housemates? Sabrina’s expression said that wasn’t a good idea. The IA is a super secret organisation. What are the ramifications if they tell people? Do you know? What did Oz say about all this? You’ve told him?

He’s less pleased than I expected. But he’s … supportive. Sort of.

That’s not a ringing endorsement, is it?

He knows that I can’t keep going like I’ve been doing and that I need something else. Something more than the daily unpaid grind. But that’s all by the by. Let’s focus on our current problem. I’ve not been to IA headquarters before, so I have no idea what they keep there. I’ll check around but what am I looking for?

I think until we work out exactly who the IA are and what they stand for, we should keep my whole possibly being murdered to ourselves. They might help, or they might want to lock me up to be safe.

Fair point. How are we going to work out if you were murdered? I asked. Do you think the livie police will have any information on it?

Maybe. I don’t know. Maybe whoever killed me made it look like a suicide.

That information would still be on file somewhere though, right? Could we send Madame Zorina to ask your family about what happened?

Don’t have any.

I patted her knee. "Didn’t have any."

We could do with getting back into the F.A.T.E.S. record room. Sabrina squeezed my hand but didn’t verbally acknowledge the family comment. Get my file from there.

"If your file is in there. Just because Charon said it was, doesn’t mean it was. He might have implied that it was to plant the suspicion about you being murdered for some reason. We file stuff in there occasionally, but there’s no rhyme or reason to the schedule. Which means asking Charon for help."

What’s wrong with asking him for help?

He’s keeping track of my favours which will likely lead to something very not good. What else apart from your file?

Sabrina looked over her shoulder at the window. I could do with visiting my office. Getting all my old files, sifting through what I was working on and seeing if anything jumps out.

You really did climb up the drainpipe?

I really did.

You remember when we first met and you were wearing your suit? And I asked you about it?