It's A Wonderful Midlife Crisis (Good To The Last Death #1) - Robyn Peterman Page 0,72
me?
I knew I was a horrible liar, but it was like I drank a freaking truth serum so my crazy would leak out. I needed to superglue my mouth shut. I wished like hell I had a tube in my pocket.
Heather glanced over at me with an odd expression on her face. I couldn’t tell if she was going to laugh or yell or tell me to get out of her house. I closed my eyes and willed myself not to say another word. If John’s afterlife wasn’t on the line, I would have made an excuse and left. I sucked at this.
“Is that the other dog you adopted? John’s dog?” Heather asked, curious.
No judgment in her voice. No change in tone that implied I was insane.
I nodded and didn’t make eye contact. I couldn’t. I didn’t want to see pity, disbelief or any other sort of concerned look in her eyes. God, she wasn’t going to want to hire me after this. I wasn’t sure I would hire me after this either. I sounded like a whack job.
“I understand all of this sounds crazy,” I said quickly. “But it’s all true. I don’t think you should say I stole the phone. It won’t be admissible in court. And I can’t be a witness because I didn’t know John Dunn. I never saw him alive.”
“But you saw him dead?” she asked.
“Umm…” Did she know? There was no way. “Only on the video,” I mumbled.
“Right,” Heather said. “Are you psychic?”
Oh my God. It was an out… of sorts.
“Is that how you know this? Can you speak to those on the other side?” Heather pressed.
“Kind of,” I said as my hands shook.
I wanted to puke. It was close enough to the truth without being the truth and Heather could believe me now.
“Have you spoken with Steve?” she asked softly.
My breath caught in my throat, and I realized I could tell the whole truth on this one. “In a dream. Once. It was awesome.”
“That makes me happy,” she said, putting her hand on my back and rubbing it.
“You believe me?”
“Let’s just say I don’t not believe you and leave it at that,” she replied.
“Okay. I have another question.”
“Is it illegal?” Heather asked with a wince.
“Completely,” I told her.
She laughed. At least she didn’t hate me… yet.
“Did John Dunn have his will drawn up with our firm?” I asked.
Heather nodded and stood up. She walked over to her desk and picked up a file. “He did.”
“Is that his file?” I asked, feeling my stomach churn.
“It is.”
“Umm… is it the only one?” I questioned, feeling light headed.
“No. There are copies.”
“Shit,” I muttered. My plan wouldn’t work.
“But I happen to have all of them here,” Heather said with a devious little grin.
“Why?” I asked, squinting at her.
“He was my friend, and I didn’t believe it was a suicide. I wanted to see what the bitch thought she was getting. Which, by the way, is totally unethical—and illegal.”
Did I dare? Yes. I did.
“How would you feel about a little more illegal activity… if you weren’t directly involved?” I suggested in a whisper.
If she was going to throw me out and rescind the job offer it was going to be right now… or never.
“Give me a little more information, please.”
“Mmkay,” I said. “I think that in the chance his murderous wife happened to be put away for life, he would want his estate to go to the Humane Society in honor of his dog Karen. It’s just a thought.”
“Did he not make provisions for the death of himself and his gold-digger dying at the same time?”
“Umm… not sure,” I said, realizing I was on shaky ground here as far as what I might know from a vision. “But I don’t think so.”
“I see,” Heather replied, going through the will. “He didn’t. Odd—very odd. Daisy?”
“Yes?” I asked, still not looking at my friend.
“I’d like you to add John Dunn’s will and the copies to your pile of work. There are a few unacceptable omissions in it. It’s to be read next week, and I’d like the changes that John wanted made immediately.”
I’d never loved Heather more. She knew I was nuts, but she didn’t care. She believed me. Well, she thought I had visions. Lots of people had visions. I did have visions, but not the kind she thought I had.
“Yes, boss. I would be delighted to,” I told her, meaning every word.
“I like being called boss,” she said with a laugh, handing me John’s files and the copies.