Color of Angels' Souls (10 page)

“OK, Frankenstein, OK; we'll go for a walk right away.”

She grabbed a leash, attached it to the dog's collar, and headed back through the door.

Jeremy took a closer look at her mail. It was all addressed to the same name: Allison Dartmouth.

“Allison Dartmouth … ?” he said out loud. “Never heard of her!”

There was a small white card on the table next to her mail. Jeremy instantly recognized his own business card, all crumpled up and stained with tears! He swore under his breath. She knew him! But how? He was completely lost. OK, he had basically lived like a monk over the past few years, working late into the night, but if such a pretty young girl had talked to him and he had given her his card, he certainly wouldn't have forgotten about it! And there was no way she could have been one of his customers. First of all, because he wouldn't have forgotten her—sure he'd been too busy to go out with girls but that didn't mean he was blind—and second of all, because everything he saw in the apartment led him to believe that she didn't have a lot of money.

And, judging by her behavior, she clearly hadn't been hired by Tachini to distract him while the murderer … murdered him.

He checked out the rest of the apartment, and almost broke his neck in the pink bathroom when he walked face first into the panties and bras that were hung up to dry above the bath. He also felt embarrassed for some reason when he noticed the big bed in her bedroom. The thing was huge. Strange. After all, the rest of the apartment was pretty small: He had noticed there was only one toothbrush in the bathroom, all the mail had been addressed to Allison, and she gave him the impression that she was single.

Allison returned with Frankenstein, who immediately began barking in Jeremy's direction. Allison ignored the dog. Funny: Now that she had calmed down and wasn't feeling so sad and guilty, a pretty blue Mist was gently wafting from her. But why weren't there any blue Angels with her? Maybe they were—

He passed his head through the closed window (he was getting better and better at dematerializing). Yep, there they were, floating up above the building, flittering and fluttering amidst all the different colored Mists.

Allison began to undress and Jeremy quickly turned away. He had no desire to be a peeping Tom. Well, actually, he did have some desire, but he somehow remembered his manners and restrained himself from taking a peek. Allison put on some extremely unflattering cotton flannel pajamas, made herself a salad, grabbed a stack of papers and began correcting them. Jeremy took a look over her shoulder and figured she must be a grade school teacher. He was surprised because she looked too young for her job—just as he had when he was alive.

They spent a quiet afternoon together. It was weird, because Jeremy actually felt pretty good, as if the young woman gave off some sort of majestic calm.

Jeremy spent a lot of the afternoon whispering in her ear: questions, millions of questions. But apparently they were running into a brick wall because she didn't once start talking to herself, or say anything to clear up the mystery around his murder. He finally gave up trying and contemplated Allison. All the puffiness from her crying had finally gone away, and her face was back to normal. She really was pretty. She had blue eyes, a stubborn chin, a broad, intelligent forehead, and full, gorgeous lips.

Now he realized why she had the big bed—she must have had tons of lovers. But no one called her that evening. When she finished correcting her papers she stripped down to her underwear, catching Jeremy totally by surprise, and started making all kinds of strange movements on a weird machine that bucked and lurched about until he thought she would have a hernia. After an hour of strenuous exercise, she was beet red, sweaty, and much less pretty than earlier, but the Mist that rose from her had turned a pure white. She went into the bathroom to take a shower, put her pajamas back on, grabbed her parka and took Frankenstein for another walk.

When she came back up, she wolfed down a bowl of cereal in front of the TV. Then she surprised Jeremy when, before heading to bed, she pulled out her books and began studying. He leaned over her shoulder again. Of course! She wasn't a grade school teacher yet; she was a student teacher, working toward her diploma. Allison soon began to nod off, and finally went to bed. Jeremy couldn't help but sigh: His investigation certainly hadn't gotten very far. Lost in his thoughts, he passed through the door of her apartment and went for a walk in the streets. He stopped by a subway station and ate some blue Mist that was floating out, then headed back to Allison's place. For some reason, he didn't want to feed off the young woman. And he didn't want to leave her either.

It turned out to be a good thing that she had such a big bed: He carefully lay down next to her and dropped off to sleep.

When Jeremy woke up he was naked again,
and …

… Allison was staring at him.

“You're such a handsome fellow, you know that?” she purred in a soft voice.

He yelled out in surprise, jumped backward and fell flat on the floor. Then Jeremy heard the dog yap in response to Allison's words, and he realized that Frankenstein had been sleeping in Jeremy's spot on the bed. She had been talking to the dog.

“Yeah, I know.” She sighed. “Flattery will get me nowhere with you. You want to eat your breakfast and go for a walk. Maybe not in that order. All right, I'm coming already!”

She grumbled and climbed slowly out of the bed to take care of Frankenstein, while Jeremy, his heart still pounding in his chest, quickly got to his feet and scampered out to make himself another loincloth. Being naked made him feel funny.

When he came back, after having eaten his own breakfast as well, Allison was already all set to go. She went down to her car and drove to a school about twenty minutes away. Jeremy had gotten in the car with her, and now followed her into her classroom. There were many blue Angels and a few Reds in the room. The Blues were whispering in the children's ears to try to help them, while the Reds did their best to distract the most undisciplined kids. Jeremy was once again struck by the fact that the living were much more receptive to the red Angels than to the Blue ones. Some of the more lively kids, the brightest ones, even seemed able to hear what the Angels were saying.

He was admiring how well Allison was looking after her kids—helping one over here, then giving encouragement to another over there, under the watchful eye of a gray-haired teacher—when suddenly, a very familiar voice made him snap to attention.

Claire, his mother, walked into the classroom. Her makeup was impeccable, as was her tight-fitting black dress and her matching gray shoes and handbag. But she couldn't hide how desolate she must be feeling inside.

What the heck was his mother doing here?

The older teacher greeted her warmly, which showed that the two knew each other. Allison suddenly turned pale—and even more so when Angela appeared behind her mother, her eyes still slightly glazed from five straight days of crying, almost without interruption. It broke Jeremy's heart.

Once again, a dirty brown Mist—from feelings of guilt—began rising from Allison, but also the darker-colored Mists that showed she was afraid. Jeremy raised his eyes in surprise, and gave Allison an inquisitive look: He had finally realized how Allison had gotten her hands on his business card.

Angela had given it to her.

A couple years earlier, his mother had come to visit him at his office with Angela. Even though Jeremy loathed Frank, he knew he couldn't show it to Angela, who he had snubbed along with her parents back then. He had been very cold and polite with the girl, as if she were just some stranger. Of course, she had adored her big brother, and he recalled that she had snatched up a few of his business cards. But why had she given one to Allison, and even more importantly, why had he been murdered when—

He held his breath, playing the scene over in his mind. Of course! When he had turned into an Angel, just after his death, he remembered seeing the killer.

He had been just about to kill Allison as well.

Allison had repeated over and over how it was all her fault. That he had died because of her. She had probably been waiting for hours out in front of his apartment building. She couldn't have known that he would come home so late that night. And when she had finally seen him on the street, she had walked up to him, and—

There was only one possible explanation.

The killer hadn't been looking for Jeremy.

The killer had come … for her!

Jeremy had been waiting impatiently for the meeting for two days, splitting his time between Allison and his half sister. Rose's & Blues was amazing. It was in a former luxury hotel built in the 1930s by William Van Alen, the same architect who built the Chrysler Building. Walking into the club was like traveling in a time machine back to the days when the ladies were all dolled up in long glamorous dresses and mink stoles, the gangsters were ruthless outlaws, and the only alcohol you could get was sold in a back room.

But what took Jeremy most by surprise when he entered were the tables.

That were floating.

Up above the living.

The Angels had found a place up beneath the vaulted ceiling to set up their own lounge, complete with floating tables, chairs, and sofas. They lolled about, talking and laughing loudly, making just as much noise as the people down below. Once the surprise wore off, Jeremy began looking around the room. It was eight o'clock sharp. His grandfather and father were nowhere to be found. The place was packed and everyone was digging a great jazz quartet. There was a throng of blue and red Angels feeding on the white, gray, and blue vapors, but there was no sign of Paul or James. He thought that he'd caught a glimpse of Tetisheri again, but the chubby blue Angel melted away in the crowd of living people down below.

Jeremy took a seat at the edge of a booth, unable to contain his impatience. He balanced unsteadily on the edge, unable to sit back and relax on a living human being, as many of the Angels were doing.

“Oh please, would you put a sock in it already!” he growled after a few minutes, fed up with the flighty woman splayed out next to him on the burgundy-colored cushion who was going on and on about her mind-numbingly boring life.

“You know, you can go on talking to her until the next big bang, and she still won't hear a word you say,” exclaimed a jovial voice right beside him.

Jeremy almost jumped through the roof. Heart racing, he turned to see a young blue-and-red boy staring at him, sitting comfortably on the sofa.

“Shit!” Jeremy cursed. “I almost—”

“Had a heart attack?” quipped the boy. “Nah, that's impossible. But I couldn't resist the temptation.”

“Hey! I remember you; didn't you—”

“
Ja, ja
, the one who explained the difference in velocity between two bodies in motion driven by non-equivalent modes of propulsion when you were desperately trying to catch up with your cadaver in the ambulance. Yes. The name's Albert Einstein, passed over in 1955.”

Jeremy shook his hand without thinking, his eyes wide as saucers. Was the kid serious or what?

“Einstein.
Albert
Einstein? E=mc
²
? The letter to the president? The Manhattan Project?”

“That's the one,” sighed the boy. “That letter hounded me throughout my life and, alas, even after my death. But let's get one thing straight: I never took part in that project. The atomic bomb and all that crap? All I did was write a stupid letter to President Roosevelt to let him know that the Nazis were about to get their hands on some uranium from mines in the Congo, and were studying the possibility of developing a new kind of bomb. I should have just kept my mouth shut.”

It was true that Jeremy had seen many a strange thing since he'd passed over to the afterlife, but he still found the boy's story hard to believe. He looked him over suspiciously.

“Einstein was seventy-six years old when he died. Excuse me for saying so, but you look a tad young to be someone so old!”

“
Ja, ja, ich weiss
,” the boy nodded. “I've made myself look younger, in order to keep my brain in good shape. But go ahead! Ask me a few questions. I'll be more than happy to answer.”

Jeremy had been a boy genius in math, and had spent most of his time creating equations to help his computer processors anticipate the reactions of financial markets. It wouldn't be too difficult for him to show up the kid as an imposter.

For about the first four minutes, he could still figure out some of what the physicist was saying, and after five minutes he was completely lost.

OK, it really was Einstein—or else someone who did a heck of a job imitating him!

“I'm … I'm very honored to meet you, sir,” he finally stammered, hoping his words would put an end to the endless stream of equations that were filling his head. “But—”

“But what am I doing here?” Einstein asked. It was annoying the way he kept finishing his sentences for him. “Well, let's just say that I often drop by Rose's & Blues. This is where all the Angels who're the most curious about their deaths get together, and I myself am very curious.”

“Curious?”

“Yes. I try to uncover the secrets of this new universe we now call home. I've been at it for years now. I've been able to figure out a few of the main principles, but new things keep happening that mess up my theories. It drives me nuts. Physics is based on laws, and in this world, the laws are very difficult to determine. But I will figure them out; I'm certain of it!”

Jeremy studied his childish face as the boy gave him a mischievous look. For some reason, it made Jeremy feel uncomfortable.

“Fair enough. But tell me this, sir: Why do I get the strange impression that you were looking for me, and that our meeting was hardly a coincidence?”