It's A Wonderful Midlife Crisis (Good To The Last Death #1) - Robyn Peterman Page 0,29

empty.

“Right,” she said as I eased her out of my family room and onto the front porch. “So sorry. But I will say as amazing as he was in the sack, he was a son-of-a-bitch the morning after. You do not want to go there.”

Now I was picturing wrinkled old man testicles. I was also sure she wasn’t talking about her father.

“Too much information, Clarissa,” I said tightly, scanning the yard for her car. I didn’t see it. “How did you get here?” I asked, praying she didn’t take a taxi and would want me to drive her back to town. I didn’t have enough sage in the house to do the family room, front porch and my car. The sage had been a gift from Missy. I’d giggled when she gave it to me. I wasn’t giggling now.

“I walked,” she said.

Glancing down at her four-inch stilettos, I doubted her story. But if that’s how she wanted to play it, I would go with it.

“Okay,” I said, ushering her down the porch steps and into the yard. “You’d better get moving. It’s about a seven mile walk back. I’d say this has been fun, but…”

“You’re my friend now, Daisy,” she insisted, sounding a little threatening. “You will not forget that.”

“Don’t think I could if I tried,” I said, walking to my car and scooping up my puppy. I didn’t trust her not to steal my baby or something awful like that.

I turned around expecting a comeback, but Clarissa was gone.

How in the hell did she do that?

I glanced down the driveway to see if I could spot her, but she was nowhere in sight. I suppose she could have gone through the woods. In her heels it would be a challenge. Unsettling and bizarre, but then again so was she. It had taken me a minute or two to grab Donna out of the car so I suppose she could have jogged …

Thankfully she was gone. There wasn’t enough room in my brain to figure out how she did it. I had a jawless dead buddy to repair. Life was weird enough without believing mean girls could poof away. A head-shrinker would be insanely helpful right now… stress on the word insane.

Clarissa was not welcome at my home. It was my safe place, and she wasn’t safe.

I just hoped she followed the rules.

Chapter Eight

“You have to stay still,” I told Sam as I pressed his jaw back onto his face… or what was left of his face.

I was still constantly surprised that my gag reflex didn’t kick in when dealing with dead stuff. Never in my life did I think I would be gluing a ghost’s jaw back onto his head.

“Lassssh gaussaus,” Sam repeated for the umpteenth time.

“Yep. Fifty more seconds,” I said, keeping pressure on his jaw as I watched the clock on the microwave. “And I know. You lost your glasses.”

“Naawwwooo,” he said, looking so sad my breath caught in my throat. “Waauufff.”

Crap. A new word.

“Donna, come in here,” I called out. She was better at understanding the dead than I was. It was a shame she couldn’t talk. It would save a lot of time.

It kind of sounded like Sam was trying to bark. Maybe he had the same idea I did about bringing Donna into the conversation. And the strange just kept getting stranger.

“Are you barking, Sam?” I asked as I let go of his jaw and prayed it stayed attached.

“Naawwwooo,” he said, shaking his head vigorously.

His jaw didn’t drop off and hit the floor. I was getting pretty good at this.

“Mmmkay.” I sat down at the kitchen table and pulled out my laptop. It was definitely time to go online and order a Ouija board. “You’re trying to tell me something new?”

“Yausssss. Waauufff lassssh gaussaus,” he grunted, nodding hard as if that would make me understand.

It didn’t.

“Wauff lost glasses,” I muttered, trying to do a puzzle with thousands of missing pieces.

Donna growled.

“I know,” I told her with a laugh. “I got the wrong answer. I’m trying here, guys.”

Sam stood and floated out to the family room. Donna got up and followed. I guessed that was my cue to join. I’d give Sam an hour or so to try to tell me what he wanted. After that, I was going to see Gram. She’d want to hear all about my birthday party. Oh my God, she was going to cackle at some of the jokes.

After that I had to do all the paperwork that I’d shoved