Excerpt from Postcards from the Dead

The dead don't speak to her; they send her postcards.

Music spilled out into the street from the open front door of Dino’s, a popular nightspot. Inside, televised sporting events shown on screens over the bar vied with the music played much too loud upstairs.

The bar was packed, and he was late. Drew felt a momentary flutter of panic when he walked in the door. What if she didn’t come? Then, an even worse thought assailed him. What if she did?

Rosalie and Kyle were sitting at a table by the bar. Sitting, facing the door, was his date. He’d expected her to be tall, thin, and red-headed like her sister, Rosalie. The woman listening intently to Kyle was curvaceous, and oh-my-god gorgeous. He sauntered through the crowd to their table, reminding himself this was supposed to be a date, not an interview.

Kyle introduced him to Cassie, and Drew found himself mesmerized by her eyes. They were the color of dark chocolate. And when she smiled, stars sparkled in the liquid depths of her eyes and two deep dimples winked in her cheeks. She might work in the morgue, but he wouldn’t have guessed it. The freckles generously sprinkled across her nose gave evidence she spent time in the outdoors. Even the tips of her strawberry blond hair were bleached gold by the sun.

He didn’t know whether to shake her hand or just nod a greeting. For the first time in his life, he was struck speechless. His mouth was dry, and his tongue felt as if it was stuck to the roof of his mouth. Sitting down, he reached for the pitcher of margaritas in the middle of the table and poured himself one.

“I’ll take a refill.” Cassie leaned into him, and her left breast pressed against his arm. It was like being struck by lightning. A jolt of lust shot straight to his cock. Good thing he was sitting, or he’d have been embarrassed to have his pants tent around his erection.

“Another one?” Rosalie asked, her hazel eyes wide. “That’ll make three.”

“I’m not driving home; Drew will drive me.” Cassie gave Drew a wink. “Besides, you’re always telling me to cut loose and enjoy myself. So, I am and I think Drew here is the man to help me with it.”

Drew laughed. “So, Cassie. Kyle tells me you work for the city?”

Cassie shifted her seat closer to Drew’s. “I don’t want to talk about work. Why don’t you ask me about the summer Rosalie and I swam nekkid in the neighbor’s pool.”

Rosalie looked like she’d swallowed an olive and Drew bit back a smile.

It was right at that moment a group of college-age guys, admirers of Kyle’s, gathered around the table. One of them asked Cassie to dance.

Drew wasn’t prepared for the myriad of emotions that played across his heart when the boy, no, make that young man, took Cassie’s hand and led her to the small square dance floor. In her jeans and striped blue silk shirt, she looked out of place among all the glammed up girls dressed to impress.

Then, she started to dance. Drew couldn’t tear his eyes away from her as she gyrated and shimmied in time to the music. Dirty dancing at its finest. Cassie and the guy were practically having sex on the dance floor.

Drew clenched and unclenched his fists. It took all his restraint not to pull the guy off her and beat him to a bloody pulp. He kept having visions of Cassie, naked and hot, in his arms. He was supposed to be there to get information out of Cassie, not to fuck her. But somehow, the message hadn’t gotten from his brain to his cock. Would the music ever end?

He caught the look of astonishment on Rosalie’s face. Obviously, this wasn’t the Cassie she knew. But she was one he definitely wanted to get to know better. On an impulse, he stood up from the table, and strode into the midst of hot, sweaty dancers. With one move, he pulled Cassie into his arms, tight against his body. Drew shot an apologetic smile at the young guy she had been dancing with and whirled her away. He pulled her to him, and her full breasts pushed into his chest. Swaying back and forth in time to the music, he felt her tight puckered nipples through his shirt. He looked down at her. Her eyes were closed and a smile danced across the corners of her lips.

As if under a spell, he leaned down and kissed the soft pout of her mouth. At first, she softened in his arms, her mouth answering his with a passion that made him breathless. Then, when he slid his tongue between her lips, she gasped as if she suddenly realized where she was, and her eyes flew open. With a start, she pulled away, and started weaving her way toward the table.

Her kiss had left him hungry for more and a little embarrassed at the clear evidence of his arousal. Luckily, the lights were dim on the dance floor.

“You’re drunk,” Rosalie accused Cassie as she slid into the seat beside her.

“I sure am,” Cassie agreed, and picked up her glass to take another drink.

“Honey, we’ve gotta go. The game will be starting in a few minutes.” Kyle pulled on Rosalie’s arm.

“Are you going to be okay?” Rosalie touched Cassie’s arm.

“I’ll make sure she gets home okay,” Drew assured Rosalie. Her gaze roved his face before she looked over at Kyle.

“He’ll take care of her. And if anything happens, I’ll break his balls,” Kyle replied, giving Drew a meaningful look.

“Ouch,” Drew replied.

“Okay,” Rosalie said, but she hesitated in her seat, her gaze darting from Cassie to Drew and back. Finally, she gave in to Kyle’s tug on her arm. Still, even as she and Kyle walked across the room, she looked back over her shoulder at Cassie, concern clearly written on her features.

Drew held himself erect until he saw Kyle exit the room with a still-protesting Rosalie, then he slumped in his chair and lifted his margarita glass in a toast to himself. Things couldn’t have worked out any better. Hopefully, once Cassie was good and drunk, it wouldn’t be hard to pry her secrets from her.

Several hours later, Drew found it hard to keep his mind on his mission. He had to find out about the postcards, but how? Cassie was deliciously drunk, but despite the late hour, they’d done nothing more than talk about inane matters, like the score of the basketball game, and how they’d met Kyle.

Perhaps now was the time to introduce a more personal question. But what to say–‑he couldn’t just blurt out, ‘so have you heard from your dead husband lately?’

“So, you work at the morgue.” Drew shouted over the music.

“What?”

“The morgue. That’s where you work?”

Cassie nodded, her head swaying to the beat of the music. “I’ve worked there for two years, ever since my husband died.”

Now, they were finally getting somewhere. “I heard he was killed in a mugging?”

Cassie nodded again. “He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Rosalie doesn’t believe he was there by accident though.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The son of a bitch was having an affair,” Cassie shouted. Unfortunately, there was a lull in the music right then, and her voice carried, attracting the attention of several tables in the vicinity.

“Oh, I didn’t know.” Drew pulled a sympathetic face. “How long had you been married?”

“Forever?” Cassie shrugged. “Or at least it seemed like it at the time.” Cassie turned her attention to Drew. “Have you ever been married?”

“No. I came close once, but she changed her mind.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not, or I wouldn’t have met you tonight.” Drew reached forward, and cupped her face in his hand.

Despite his best intentions to keep this on an impersonal level, sparks of desire flashed through him. He wanted to kiss her again, hold her in his arms, undress her–savor her. But he had to find out about the postcards.

He finally pulled his raging hormones into check and formed a coherent question. “So, what’s it like working at the morgue?”

Cassie bit her lower lip as if thinking of a response. “It’s heartbreaking. I’m the personal property supervisor, which means I collect the decedent’s property, log it in, call the family, and make arrangement for them to pick up the items when they come to identify the body.”

“If it makes you sad, why do you do it?”

“Because I know how they feel. When I had to claim Rick’s body and his possessions, everyone was so nice and sympathetic. It made it so much more humane. When I was offered the job, I figured I could pass that on.”

“That’s a nice thought.” It was nice; Cassie was a compassionate woman. So, what in the hell was he doing here trying to discredit her paranormal experience? Not that she’d told him anything about it. Kyle may have been blowing him a load of shit. “So, what sort of things do you normally deal with? I assume wallets, keys, purses and the like. But anything, well, unusual?”

Cassie’s eyes fixed on his. “Funny you should say that.”

“Funny?”

“Well,” Cassie said. She glanced around as if to make sure she wouldn’t be overheard. “It’s not so much what we find on the body that’s unusual. It’s what I receive the next day that’s creepy.”

Drew leaned forward. Here it was. “What’s creepy?”

END OF EXCERPT