guys aren’t right in the head.”
“You try being angry with someone for the better part of a year,” Audrey counters. “And we’ll see how much sense you make.”
A serene smile that our new arrivals don’t know to fear touches Clothilde’s lips. “I’ve been angry for thirty years, honey. You might want to know what you’re talking about before opening your mouth.”
Luckily, Audrey snaps her mouth shut rather than picking up the thrown gauntlet.
“How come it’s not investigated as murder?” I ask. “It must have been obvious that Bruno, at least, didn’t simply drown.”
Bruno waves a hand as if it’s not important. “The bikini top must have come undone, I guess. Wouldn’t be surprising once I wasn’t pulling on it so hard.”
I frown at him. “You don’t seem overly upset about this. Don’t you want people to learn the truth?”
“That we killed each other on our honeymoon?” he asks incredulously. “Honestly, I prefer they think we’re such bad swimmers that we drowned.”
A partly playful, partly evil smirk makes an appearance. “They’ll probably think that Audrey hit her head on the dock or something, and then pulled me under with her when I tried to save her.”
Clothilde giggles. “I actually heard one of your friends say that during the funeral.”
“Who?” Audrey finally shakes off her apathy. Her dark eyes glint with anger as she points a finger at Clothilde. “Who said that? I’ll kill them!”
Narrowing her eyes, Clothilde is no longer smiling. “Honestly, honey, I think you’ve done quite enough killing already. Leave your friends alone. Not that you’d be able to kill a living human even if we let you try,” she adds under her breath.
Audrey hears, of course.
“If you let me? Who the hell do you think you are?” She sits up on her knees, leaning forward as if to jump Clothilde. “I’m not going to take any lip from some teenager who dresses like she’s come straight out of an eighties movie.”
I sigh and hang my head.
How could a month not be enough for this woman to work through her anger? I’m going to assume she’s not usually this dense.
Clothilde’s voice has that eery calm that makes me want to take a step—or ten—away. “I was a teenager in the eighties. I died not long after my twentieth birthday, in 1988. Which means, I’m old enough to be your mother.”
An eyebrow rises and I just know I won’t like whatever she says next.
“It’s not my fault if I still look young and fresh while you look your thirty-five years.”
Bruno closes his eyes in resignation and pulls back slightly. Making room for Audrey to come past him when she attacks Clothilde.
But Audrey appears to have learned at least one thing during her time in the cemetery: she can’t physically harm another ghost.
“I am twenty-eight,” she grinds out.
“I. Know.” Clothilde enunciates every syllable. “I. Can. Read.” She points to their brand new tombstone, where dates of birth and dates of death shine golden in the setting sun.
Audrey deflates, and Bruno and me both let out a relieved breath.
I wouldn’t go so far as to say this meeting is going well, but I think Clothilde is exactly what we need to defuse these newlyweds.
Her victorious grin at making Audrey back down isn’t particularly reassuring, though.