Sparkle (31 page)

“Yeah?” she said.

“I guess.”

“Well, good. Bye, then.” LaVonne pulled on her coat. “I’ve got a lot to do. Ease up on yourself today.” She walked over and kissed Joe on the cheek.

“I’ll call you,” Joe said quietly. “I’ll call you when…when I don’t need something.”

LaVonne laughed. “Yeah, that’d be nice. Then again, you do call. Have a good day at work, Eddie.” She didn’t expect a response.

“Shiny Gold,” Eddie said.

LaVonne glanced at Joe, who was pouring himself a fresh cup of coffee, and gave him a who-knows look. Then she went out the door and shut it behind her.

Joe sat down at the table. He looked at Eddie’s banged-up eye. It didn’t look too bad. “I need to see…your hands,” he said. Eddie held them out. Joe was impressed. They seemed to be almost healed. He remembered them being a lot worse. “You feel better?”

“Uh-huh. Okay.”

Joe sipped his coffee. “It’s just a little job. You sure you’re up for it?”

“Uh-huh. Okay.”

“You sure you feel better?”

“I want…to go,” Eddie said.

“You’re totally sure?”

Joe was pushing too hard. Eddie had to stay focused. One step off the path today could lead almost anywhere. “I want to go.”

They sat quietly. Joe realized, out of left field, that he really missed his brother. Eddie had been drifting away from him. Joe wanted to talk to him, find out what was really going on.

“Yesterday was…hard for me,” Joe said.

“Sorry.”

“In fact, this whole week has been hard.”

Eddie was having difficulty listening to Joe. He needed to get out the door.

Joe finished his coffee and got up for a third cup. “I’ve been thinking,” he said from the coffeemaker, with his back to Eddie, “Maybe we shouldn’t do this blood and guts stuff anymore.” Joe turned around. “I feel—”

Eddie interrupted him, suddenly present. He wasn’t staying home today. “Somebody has to,” he said. He pulled out a Sparkle Cleaners card and laid it on the table.

“Why us?” Joe said.

“We’re somebody,” Eddie said, after only a short pause. “I want to go.”

“Okay, Eddie. But maybe we can still be somebody even if we don’t do this anymore.” Joe was encouraged by Eddie’s answer. Whenever Eddie said something he hadn’t heard before, whatever it might be, it felt like a real conversation. Joe saw it as an opening. “I think…maybe we should quit doing this, Eddie. Do something else. Maybe we could travel or something. What do you think about that, Eddie?”

Eddie stood up. He simply couldn’t listen to Joe anymore. He felt the words forming before they came out. “You don’t have to take care of me, Joe,” he said. He had to get to the job. The thought of Jolie’s spirit possibly stuck, held down by evil—Eddie was going to need every ounce of strength and attention he had to get through today. And then there would be tomorrow to deal with, possibly even worse. Whatever Joe had on his mind would have to wait.

Joe was taken aback. “Whoa. I…well, actually, Eddie, I do.”

“You’re not my dad,” Eddie said. As soon as the words were out, he realized they had been on his mind for quite a while.

He stood up calmly and walked out the door.

Chapter 46

Eddie sat quietly in the van, but his heart was thumping hard inside his chest. Joe had apparently forgotten all about his wilted roses. There they were, limp and bulky, taking up most of the floor on Eddie’s side. Normally, anything of Joe’s on Eddie’s side might be an issue, maybe even a major one. But today, Eddie pushed them aside with his feet, determined to stay on course. Even the agitating crinkly noise of the plastic wrapped around them didn’t weaken his focus.

There was no counting cars on the way to Jolie’s. Eddie was thinking. He wasn’t thinking about Jolie, though. He was thinking about his mom. That was her, that pounding in his heart. Maybe she was here to help him through, but there was nothing comforting about the feeling. It stayed strong all through the drive, and it continued after they arrived and while Joe unloaded the small-job gear in front of Jolie’s house.

Jolie’s landlord, a bald, nervous, kind-looking little man in his sixties, stood watching Joe’s every move with knitted brow. The shooting in his house, the house he’d grown up in, had hit him like a ton of bricks.

“It’s not that big of a mess,” the man said, speaking to the gear. “I just couldn’t do it myself. Such a nice girl.” He followed Joe to the door, uncertainly eying the crime scene tape.

“Just pull it down.” Joe was starting to feel a little sorry for the guy. He was obviously upset for more than his own sake.

It always irritated him that so many of the people he dealt with at jobs didn’t seem to give a damn about the victims. Of course, anyone would get the same impression from dealing with Joe. It was a common defense mechanism. The thing that pissed Joe off the most, though, was when clients wanted to talk about the crime and the victim. No matter how carefully they tried to frame it as an expression of their caring and concern, it always felt like trashy sick gossip.

Joe could see clearly that the landlord wasn’t one of those talkers, but he still wanted to get rid of him as soon as possible. Even if this was going to be their last job, there was no sense in breaking all the rules that had kept Joe sane for this long.

“Such a special, really nice young lady. I can’t understand,” the landlord said.

“Hey, we don’t gossip. We don’t analyze. We clean.” The last thing Joe wanted was for the guy to start blubbering.

The landlord looked at Joe as though he’d been slapped, but he did shut up.

Joe instantly felt like crap. “Don’t worry about it,” he said in a slightly softer tone. “We’ll clean it up for you.” He was starting to feel as though LaVonne was watching his every move.

In the van, Eddie was holding on, but he was being buffeted harder than he’d ever expected. He couldn’t concentrate now that they’d actually gotten to the house. He was remembering how he’d felt when Jolie’s door opened and Mark walked out into the night.

Joe opened Eddie’s door. “You coming, bro?”

“Uh-huh,” Eddie said. “Okay.” He got out stiffly and walked briskly to the front door. It crossed his mind that he had never cleaned a house twice, except his own.

Joe stood behind him on the front stoop and launched into his spiel. “Don’t forget to eat your lunch at noon. It’s just a little job, so I’ll be back at four.”

Eddie saw what was left of his own blood on Jolie’s door. Much of it had been removed for evidence. He realized he was expected to clean that up, too. He heard Joe’s voice, but it sounded farther and farther away with each word. The words themselves were like a lifeline thrown too late from a boat too far away. Eddie was in the water, alone, and he had no choice but to swim or go under.

“Uh-huh. Okay.”

Joe couldn’t put his finger on it, but something, once again, was incredibly strange and troubling about the way Eddie was acting. He looked fine, although he did seem to be holding himself more rigidly than usual.

“You sure you’re okay?” Every day this week had brought some kind of crazy shit. Eddie catching the ball at the game on Sunday, running off to God knew where on Monday, finding evidence at the Red Lotus on Tuesday, then going off again—in the middle of the frickin’ night—and coming home with the banged-up head that had forced Joe to clean on Wednesday.

Today was only Thursday. This week would be one for the record books. Joe couldn’t wait for it to be over. He looked at Eddie hard.

“When you said okay…back at the house, did you really mean you’d be okay if this was our last blood-and-guts job? Is that why you’ve been acting so weird this week?”

“Uh-huh. Okay.” Eddie hadn’t even heard the question. All he was thinking about was getting inside Jolie’s place, getting through today. The fact that there might be a tomorrow seemed like an impossibility.

“Wow,” Joe said, out loud. So this really might be it. Had Eddie finally gotten sick of this crappy work, too? Maybe this was what was behind his freaky behavior. Eddie wanted out. That had to be it. God knew how much Joe wanted it. Well, then, if that was how it was going to be, Joe would just have to find an alternative for them. The reality of it made his heart beat faster. “That’s a scary thought,” he said.

“Go away, Joe.”

“Okay.” Joe was excited. “See you.” He looked hard at Eddie’s back. “I love you, bro,” he mumbled.

Eddie heard that. Joe hadn’t said that in a long time. Eddie knew it meant a lot to Joe to say it, and it made Eddie feel a little stronger. Every once in a while, Joe did or said something that was really truly helpful. Eddie was grateful. “I know,” he said.

Joe turned and walked briskly toward the van. The tears welled up so quickly that he was only barely able to choke them back. I’m losing it, he thought. I think I need a drink. He started the van and pulled away from the curb with a lurch.

Eddie faced the open door. If he waited much longer, he’d become rooted to the spot and wouldn’t be able to budge.

He willed his feet to take him forward.

“Promise me, Eddie.” He remembered Jolie’s voice as she loaded him into the cab. It had been loud and clear. She had made him promise he wouldn’t come back.

“No,” Eddie said.

He forced himself to walk through the door.

The landlord had been right. There wasn’t much of a mess. An ugly splat of blood marred the wall and the couch where Jolie had sat. Otherwise, the place was still spotless from Eddie’s birthday cleaning.

He carefully and methodically went through the motions of putting down his canvas Mariners bag, taking off his clothes, and getting ready to clean. Things would be better soon. The room would change, Eddie would get in the zone, and he would have a chance to see Jolie one more time, to help her, to say good-bye.

But something was wrong. He didn’t feel himself sinking down into his trance. He didn’t see anything in the room start to change.

Eddie picked up his fresh new bottle of Shiny Gold. “Bye-bye, stains,” he said. He gently bonked his forehead with the bottle.

Nothing.

He stood up straight and waited. He closed his eyes and counted to five, willing his thoughts to slow down, silently inviting Jolie’s spirit to reveal itself to be freed.

Instead, his eyes opened to the sight of an ordinary, empty room.

This had never happened before. He had braced himself to come in contact with Jolie’s spirit. Where was she?

Eddie closed his eyes and bonked himself on the forehead again. “Bye-bye stains.”

He opened his eyes.

Nothing.

His breath felt cold in his mouth. His feet felt as though they were not solidly connected to the floor. His sensations were random and separate. And everything—everything in the room—looked bland, commonplace, and devoid of spirit.

Eddie closed his eyes again. He tried to focus on the smell. Maybe that would be the trigger this time. He took several deep, careful breaths through his nose. There were plenty of smells—even Jolie’s smell—but the scent wouldn’t lead him anywhere. The place smelled just as it had when he’d cleaned it two days earlier.

Where was the evidence of Jolie’s loss? Where was her spirit? Eddie considered going outside and coming in again. Instead, he forced himself to walk across the room to the couch.

He put everything he had into slowing down, emptying his mind. His face never changed much, just a tight line that formed between his eyes from the effort. Eddie leaned forward and stared at the dark splatter of blood on the wall. It wasn’t much, compared to what he was used to. He leaned closer, until his face was almost touching it. He breathed deeply, but the familiar smell of blood had no insight to offer him, for once. It was simply unpleasant, even though it was Jolie’s, because it was only blood. There was no movement in it, no spirit. None of the things that Eddie had to have to do his work.

Eddie couldn’t give up. His mind raced faster and more chaotically, and his heart pounded so fast and so loud that it made him feel panicky. His brain was processing at a phenomenal rate, trying to consciously figure out what to do. He knew that was the worst thing he could do, but he couldn’t help it, and he couldn’t seem to stop it. But Jolie needed him. He had to try everything possible. He reached out slowly, carefully, bracing himself, willing something to happen when he touched Jolie’s precious blood. He felt his finger come in contact with the wall.

Nothing.

Eddie pulled his hand away. His eyes went wide for a moment, and he stood up straight, breathing shallowly. He stood frozen for long minutes, mustering his concentration. Then he leaned forward once more. He gingerly pressed his whole palm into the blood.

Nothing.

This was horribly wrong. He had come to find out what had happened, and to do the last thing, the best thing, the only thing he could for Jolie. To set her free. But there was nothing here to lead him. Just a stain. An empty house and this cold, dry little mess. His power seemed to have disappeared.

Eddie stood stock still and replayed everything he knew in his head. His senses had been incredibly heightened that night. He had seen Mark come out of this house with his own eyes. He could clearly remember how it felt it when it happened. Jolie had surely been shot. Eddie even had the gun.

He closed his eyes.

“Bye-bye stains.” Bonk. “Bye-bye stains.” Bonk. “Bye-bye stains.” Bonk. “Bye-bye stains.” Bonk. “Bye-bye stains.” Bonk. “Bye-bye stains.” Bonk. “Bye-bye stains.” Bonk.

He went on like that for ten minutes. Like a broken record. Then a thought came that hit Eddie like a blow.

He had broken a sacred promise. Maybe this was the punishment for breaking his promise to Jolie. Maybe he had lost his gift.

Eddie sagged onto the couch. He looked blankly away from the meaningless splatter of blood on the wall. He couldn’t bear to touch it again. He shivered. He put his Mariners bag on the floor between his feet, pulled out rubber gloves and put them on. He took the gun out of his bag, removed it from the plastic bag he had put it in when he found it. He squinted at it, hoping against hope that it would show him something. Anything. Maybe it would be the trigger that would bring this barren place to life.