Free The Business Of Death, Death Works Trilogy by Trent Jamieson Page B

is Lissa and her previous relationships. But it does no good. Jealousy, wearing Eric Tremaine’s smarmy face, has brought matches and it’s lighting them up inside of me.
    “So what’s going on, Flatty?” I ask, and for the first time Eric seems truly aware of me, even though my presence must have drawn him here. He gives me a wide, almost manic grin, and slaps his knee.
    “Steven de Selby. Wonderful, so you’ve managed to stay alive. Iwouldn’t have put money on it. You never really struck me as the sharpest knife in the drawer.”
    “Enough of that,” Lissa says. “Play nice.”
    “Who’s behind this?” I demand. I don’t have time for point scoring, even if I am still hunting for some sort of witty comeback.
    Eric shrugs. “I don’t know. All I can say for sure is that they’re very good at their jobs, and they know a lot about ours.” He glances significantly at Lissa. “Why the fuck are you hanging with this loser?”
    “You tried to call Mr. D?” I ask, ignoring the insult. After all, he
has
just died.
    “Of course I have.” Eric nodded. “Line was busy, which makes sense for a couple of reasons.”
    “Yeah, everybody would be trying to call,” I say. Though, to be honest, I really hadn’t thought of it. Thinking about Mom and Dad had been occupying my mind more—that, and the running. Besides, Mr. D is… difficult. I take a deep breath. “Maybe I should try him. Can’t be too many Pomps left.”
    Tremaine makes an ineffectual grab at my arm—his hand passes through my flesh and he’s nearly dragged through me with it. His face strains as he struggles to stay in this world, and part of me can’t help laughing at such a basic mistake. I have to respect his strength of will, though, because he pushes against the pomp, his form solidifying.
    “No! You don’t want to do that!” he says, once he’s managed to stabilize his soul. “I tried to call him just out of Tenterfield. The buggers got me there on the New England Highway. They’re obviously using the phones to find us. Please don’t tell me you’ve got yours on.”
    “Oh.” The blood’s draining from my face. I switch off my phone, and then slide it into my pocket.
    Eric gives Lissa an “I told you so” look. His gaze, when it returns to me, is condescension stirred with pity. He doesn’t expect me to live much longer, either.
    “You’re going to have to talk to Mr. D, but not now,” he says. “I suspect he’s out of the loop somewhat. He has to be, I can’t believe that he’d let this happen.”
    “Someone has,” Lissa says.
    “Yes, and I have my theories, but they’re just theories. Steve, you’re going to have to talk to him face to face. Draw him out of wherever he’s hiding, or being held.”
    “You think he’s being held?”
    “He’s hardly on a fishing trip now, is he?” Tremaine says archly. “He’s too intimately connected to all of us. Every death must be filling him with pain and anger. For something like this to succeed you’d need to remove the RM as quickly as possible, before you start trying to kill Pomps. You know how Mr. D is. He knows when one of us dies, and he’s always there. Let me tell you, he wasn’t there for me. This has to be an inside job.”
    He lets that sink in.
    “Then how am I going to be able to talk to him?”
    “There are ways that can’t be stopped. If you know what you’re doing.” He looks at me.
    I take a deep breath. Maybe I should just pomp the prick. I’m a little threatened by the thought of one-on-one time with Mr. D. I’ve only ever met him a few times, and they were with my dad.
    “Mr. D’s not that bad, really,” Lissa says, and I realize that she is almost touching my hand with her own. At the closest point her form is wavering. It must be uncomfortable for her, but she holds the position. I’m the one who pulls away in the end. Tremaine gives her a look, and I smile like the cat who got the cream.
    “If you say so. I’ve just never had