A Most Excellent Midlife Crisis - Robyn Peterman Page 0,67
insulted by your rude reception. I don’t like it.”
“You tried to send my husband wrongly into the darkness after you caused his death,” I said evenly, judging how far I was from the door. My damn purse with my cell phone in it was on the floor and out of reach. My best bet was to break the bubble, grab my dogs and run. I was faster than hell on my feet and wildly happy about that right now.
“Everyone makes mistakes,” Clarissa said, shaking her head dismissively. “He’ll be fine in the darkness.”
“Steve’s not going into the darkness.”
Her body stiffened and her eyes narrowed to slits. “Of course he is.”
“Nope,” I said. “It wasn’t a suicide. Funnily enough—which actually isn’t funny at all—he was run off the road by a deranged Angel.”
Her eyes widened in shock for a hot second. She made pouty lips and spoke to me like an adult using baby talk to speak to a dog. “How very, very, very sad. Delighted you got it figured out.”
Riling her up wasn’t the best plan, but if I threw her off enough, I might be able to figure out where she’d hidden my mother’s soul. However, that was a delicate subject, and I would tread lightly. Risking my mother was not in anyone’s best interest.
“Yep, I’m glad we got it figured out too,” I said, playing the idiot. I gave her a thumbs up.
“Is something wrong with your hand?” Clarissa inquired rudely.
“No,” I said. “Hand’s fine. As I was saying, once it was revealed Steve’s death wasn’t a suicide, it was decided he belongs in the light.”
“They went off the word of a dead man?” she asked as her eyes flashed with fury.
“Stop playing games, Clarissa,” I snapped. “It’s not a good look on you. You’re on the run because you’re in a shitload of trouble. I know you caused Steve’s death, and so does everyone else.”
The Angel of Mercy grew agitated, pointed her finger at the staircase and blew it sky high. The walls around the staircase were loadbearing. The house creaked but didn’t fall apart. I was tempted to use my newfound demolition skills to bring the entire house down around us so I’d have a head start in getting away from her, but I worried about my dogs. Donna would probably be fine, since she was a Hell Hound, but endangering Karen was not part of my plan.
“Everyone else does not know, you stupid child,” she snarled. “You have no proof. Just a dead man’s word delivered by a Death Counselor who was married to him. It’s a very clear case of conflict of interest. I win.”
Did she truly think she’d gotten away with it? She couldn’t. Why was she on the run if she thought she’d gotten away with it? She had to be after something else.
How much did she know? How much should I tell?
It wasn’t smart to let her know how the others got the proof. There was a chance she’d go back into hiding or permanently disappear if she was clued in that I knew who my father was. I’d never get my mother’s soul back.
“Anyhoo, I have things to do and places to be,” she said, sounding bored. “I do believe you have something of mine. I’d like it back. Now.”
“I have nothing that belongs to you,” I said. “Nothing.”
“Ahh, but you do,” she contradicted me and shot a bolt of lightning from her fingertips that landed dangerously close to my head and took a chunk out of the wall. Karen yelped and Donna growled. “For years I thought the old lady had it, but I was wrong. Should have known you would have been able to find it.”
What the hell was she talking about?
“You’re going to have to be a little more specific,” I said, buying time. We had to have been talking for about fifteen minutes. If I could get her to monologue for a few more, I’d have backup. Bad guys loved to monologue—at least they did in the movies.
Another bolt of lightning came even closer to my head. Donna and Karen’s growls intensified as the smoke curled from the scorched wall behind me. The unmistakable aroma of singed hair—mine—made me cringe. “If you blow my head off, you won’t get what you want.”
“Good point,” she said, turning her deranged attention to the front of my house and setting it ablaze. “However, after I get what I want, you’ll probably perish in the fire. Sorry about that.”