“Right,” Gemma barked. “Go, go, go. And please Holly, don’t do anything stupid like stop and read her diary or try on her clothes. We want this to be a quick operation. Just go in there, find the pills and out again. Agreed?”
“Of course. I’m only here for another day. The last thing I want to do is spend my time in Rochelle Jackson’s bedroom.”
“Okay then. Well I’ll stay here and keep a watch out, and if I see anyone coming, I’ll call you.”
“Agreed.” Holly nodded as she hunched her shoulders and ran toward a group of brightly colored pots. As she lifted up the second one, she turned around and gave Gemma the thumbs up. As predicted, the key was there. Thank goodness it wasn’t like Todd’s where you needed three codes and a swipe card just to get through to the foyer. She was fairly certain that retinal scans were just around the corner.
“You do know this is breaking and entering don’t you,” Vince reminded her as Holly twisted the door open. “Not wanting to be a spoilsport but if we were to get caught, I’d probably be in big trouble.”
Holly glanced down and once again reminded herself that she was in the body of six-foot guy. Vince was right. If the police came around, he would be in big trouble. Mind you, so would she, since she would fail her mission.
“It’s all right,” she said in a decisive voice. “We just won’t get caught.”
“Comforting.” He sighed. “Very comforting.” However he made no protest when she stepped in over the threshold and shut the door behind them.
Rochelle’s apartment was a tribute to too much money and not enough sense, but thankfully Holly had been there before so she didn’t pause too long to stare at the mock plaster nude statues that adorned the cream and gold hallway. However, she couldn’t quite miss the huge portrait of Rochelle, which was hanging up the top of the stairs.
It was in a ghastly mix of blues and violets and the artist had been very conservative with the way they’d depicted Rochelle’s rounded belly and fat ass. Holly started to giggle and was almost tempted to grab a marker pen and add a moustache and some glasses, but remembered Gemma’s warning. There was no time to muck around.
She hurried up the stairs and into Rochelle’s room. It was full of frills and flowers and Holly wondered if some of Vince’s testosterone was rubbing off on her as she glanced around in distaste.
It didn’t take her long to spot the Chloe bag, which had been casually abandoned onto the floor. Holly immediately bent down and could barely stop her fingers from shaking as she unzipped it and rattled the contents out in front of them. Make-up, hairbrush, more make-up, ticket stubs, umbrella…
No, no, no. This wasn’t right. Holly checked again but there still wasn’t any sign of motion sickness pills or even a diary with the specific details of everything leading up to the event. Holly tried to hide her disappointment. She had been so certain it would be in the bag.
“I’m sorry,” Vince said but Holly just shrugged as she started to scoop everything up and thrust them back in.
“It’s no big deal. We still have the rest of the room to search, anyway.”
As soon as the bag was once again zipped up, Holly headed for the dressing table. There were a ridiculous number of photographs of the last Baker Colwell day out and Holly couldn’t help but notice Todd was in nearly every picture. What a slut, she thought, while discreetly slipping one of them into her back pocket. After all, he was Holly’s boyfriend, not Rochelle’s. And besides, he looked so cute and preppy in his dark jeans and white polo shirt.
Vince made a pained noise from the back of his throat, which reminded Holly she was actually putting Todd’s picture in Vince’s pocket. He could destroy it later she supposed.
She finished with the dresser and moved on to under the bed, but again there was nothing but boxes of winter clothes and a ridiculous number of stuffed animals.
Holly wiped her brow. She was running out of places to look and she couldn’t bear to think about what would happen if she didn’t find the proof she needed. Except she knew exactly what would happen. She would just been seen as yet another statistic who chickened out of life and killed herself.
Well she couldn’t fail, because she didn’t want to be that person—the sort of person who committed suicide; the sort of person her beloved father would have been ashamed of.
For a moment Holly froze. Where had that thought come from? That was the problem with being dead. It gave her far too much time to think. She turned toward the wardrobe with renewed vigor.
“You know,” Vince said half an hour later. “I don’t think we’re going to find anything.”
“Don’t say that. We can’t give up.”
“Holly, you’ve opened up every tube of lipstick and looked in the pockets of every jacket.”
“She could’ve hidden them,” Holly defended.
“In a can of hairspray?”
“It’s possible,” Holly muttered, but she knew he was right. They had been here for ages and apart from knowing Rochelle’s panties were in as bad taste as her clothes, they hadn’t learnt anything.
Before she could decide what to do next, Vince’s phone rang.
“Hide,” Gemma snapped from down the other end. “She’s back early for some reason and she’s on her way up. Right. Now.”
“Shit.” Holly swore as she started to dive under the bed just as she heard the front door open. She desperately tried to wriggle underneath before she finally worked out what the problem was.
“This is no good,” she wailed. “Why are you so tall?”
“Sorry, next time we’re breaking into someone’s house I’ll put on my short legs. Come on, we’ll have to go in the wardrobe.”
She managed to squirm her way back out and throw herself into the wardrobe just seconds before the bedroom door opened.
Holly sucked in her breath, but thankfully Rochelle was on the phone and didn’t seem to be aware that her bedspread was rumpled or that the wardrobe door was still slightly ajar.
“No, you hang up,” Rochelle said with an annoying giggle. “No…you. I mean it, Tiger. I’ve got to go and get a shower unless you want me to be late…oh, behave. Of course I’m not going to tell you what color my bra is.”
Holly had to stuff her fist in her mouth to stop from making a vomiting noise.
But could she just say—Gross.
Had she really come all the way back from heaven to listen to Rochelle Jackson have phone sex?
At least on the bright side it meant Rochelle obviously wasn’t that interested in trying to flirt with Todd if she already had a mystery boyfriend on the go. She must see if Gemma could find out who it was.
So how long do you think she’s going to be? Vince shifted uncomfortably in the cramped space.
Well, she doesn’t seem in a hurry to hang up from Tiger. Holly sighed. I guess we should just talk amongst ourselves so that we don’t have to listen.
I’ll second that.
Okay, so…hey, what are you doing? Holly silently demanded as Vince started to wriggle his leg.
I’ve got a cramp. Can’t you feel it?
Holly paused for a minute. She’d been trying hard not to notice every aspect of Vince’s physical body since it somehow seemed a bit intrusive, but now that he mentioned it, she could feel his right calf muscle was tightened. He gave his leg another wriggle and Holly tried to ignore how firm his thigh was. She had the feeling that if someone had been thrust into her body, she would be found wanting since most nights The Rich and the Restless won the battle over the gym.
Vince on the other hand had nothing to worry about it. He was strong and lean and unlike Todd, it didn’t feel like his muscle had merely come from repetitive weight lifting. Not that Todd didn’t have a nice body of course, but there was something…harder…about Vince’s.
Shit, Holly, you’re doing it again. I don’t know what the hell you’re thinking about but you’d better stop it, okay.
Crap. Holly glanced down and groaned. What was it with her, Vincent Murphy and bedrooms? She immediately switched her attention to a boring accounting lecturer she’d had at college and things soon returned to normal.
Well, apart from the fact she was well and truly mortified of course. Thankfully, at that moment Rochelle finished the call and a couple of minutes later Holly heard the bathroom door shut and the pelting noise of the shower being turned on.
Holly wasn’t going to wait around a minute longer than she had to and so she pushed open the wardrobe door and hurried back down the stairs and outside.
Gemma was waiting for her around the corner with a pale face and half-chewed fingernails. “Did she see you?”
“Nope, clean get away,” Holly said.
“Oh thank God.” Gemma blew out a column of air in relief. “I had visions of her finding you and then using her stiletto to chop your body up into little pieces and then hiding it under the bed.”
Holly shook her head. “No room under there, and besides, I’m already dead. I think that would be like a double negative or something.”
“Oh.” Gemma paused for a minute to consider this. “Well, perhaps you should’ve told me that before and saved me all the worry. Anyway, don’t keep me in suspense. Did you find anything?”
“Not a sausage,” Vince was the one who answered. “Though she did seem to have a strange collection of stuffed teddy bears. Is that a crime?”
“It should be.” Holly tried to sound light-hearted but inside she was panicking. Not only did Vince probably think she had a one-track mind, but there had been no signs of any pills. She’d been so sure there would be as well. After all, every police movie she had ever watched ended like that. The out of favor detective would follow their instincts, no matter what, and it would always pay off.
Whoever said life wasn’t like the movies, sure wasn’t joking. It seemed as though the same went for dying.
“Don’t worry,” Gemma was saying now. “Holly, we’ve still got tonight and tomorrow.”
“I was just so certain—and what about the photocopied article she had in her office?” Holly wailed.
“It could’ve been because she really does get motion sickness,” Vince said in a soft voice and for the first time since Holly had landed in his body, she started to realize there was a good chance she could fail. The thought made her feel ill. It was bad enough dying, but to die and know that her parents were two levels above her was something she could hardly bear to think about. She had so much to tell them, so much to say.
“We still have time,” Gemma said firmly.
“You’re right.” Holly sucked in a lungful of air and tried to compose herself. “I just need to keep focused and work out what I’m going to say to Todd. I’m sure as long as I can get everything sorted with him, it will be okay.”
“That’s the attitude.” Gemma nodded her head in approval.
Vince coughed. “There’s just one problem.”
“Technically there’s two problems,” Holly corrected since as well as Todd, she still hoped to find out how she died. “But—”
“No,” Vince cut her off as he held out his arms. “This is a different problem. Where’s my satchel with all of your things in them.”
“Please tell me Gemma was minding it while we went into Rochelle’s?” Holly could feel her voice wobbling.
Gemma held her own hands up to show they were empty. “I don’t think you had it with you. I knew that drinking beer was a bad idea.”
Okay, so Holly was pretty sure she was about to have a breakdown. This was so not good. In fact it was very very bad, and if—
It will be alright, Vince’s firm voice echoed in her head and before she could start to panic any more, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and made a call.
“Andrew, it’s me…”
“What’s he saying?” Gemma demanded the minute Vince started talking to the technician. “Is it there? Do they have it?”
Holly let out a sigh of relief as she heard Andrew confirm that the bag was underneath the bar where they had been standing earlier. If Holly wasn’t in Vince’s body she would’ve given that guy a kiss next time she saw him. In fact she would’ve kissed Vince as well. His zen-like calm was becoming more than a little addictive.
She gave Gemma the thumbs up and then waited until Vince finished the call before letting out a large whoop of joy. “Thank goodness that your friends know how to party. I was sure they would’ve left by now.”
“Actually, they are just about to head into town, so if we want to get it, we’d best get moving,” Vince added. “They said they’ll wait for us to show, but best not to keep them too long.”
“Let’s get going.”
Gemma hooked her workbag further up her shoulder. “I might just head…home to get ready for my date tonight. If that’s okay? I mean I know this about you and Todd, but I sort of want to look nice for Simon.”
“Oh, for some reason I thought we’d get ready together,” Holly tried to hide her disappointment before groaning. “Though on second thoughts, perhaps not.”
“I think that might push the weird factor a bit too high today,” Gemma agreed as she glanced at her watch and arranged to meet Holly outside The Pool Palace at quarter to nine.
Since Gemma was heading in the opposite direction they both walked toward the main road and hailed separate cabs. As theirs headed back in the direction of Baker Colwell and Bar One, Holly rubbed her head.
Talk about exhausting. Had it always been like this when she had been alive? Especially the mood swings. She wasn’t sure if it was Vince’s testosterone or her own blind panic, but it seemed like she’d spent most of the day on a wildly teetering see-saw. It really wasn’t good for the nerves.
Vince, who as normal seemed to pick up on her every thought, set a wave of reassurance through her as he paid the driver and they got out.
Are you okay?
I think. She gulped. I guess we just have to work on the assumption that nothing else could possibly go wrong?
Whenever they say that in the movies, it’s just a link to the next disaster.
This is hardly a movie, Holly reminded him. And it’s true. The day’s almost over and we’re back to the beginning, so how on earth could things possibly get worse?
Well, since that spiritual realigner guy of yours seems to be walking towards us, I’d say that was a good indication. I sure know my life takes a dive every time he’s around.
Holy felt sick as she realized Vince was right. Here came Dr. Hill. Oh great.