Even White Trash Zombies Get the Blues (White Trash Zombie 2)

“You need to watch the press conference Dr. Duplessis gave yesterday. It was on channel five news and it’s on their website.”

I started to remind him that I didn’t have a computer at the house, then spun to Marcus. “You have a smart phone, right?” At his nod I told him, “Derrel says I need to watch the coroner’s press conference from yesterday on channel five news.”

“Okay,” I said to Derrel after Marcus pulled up the video and started it. “I’m watching it…Wait. What the hell?”

Derrel chuckled. “Keep watching.”

Dr. Duplessis was standing in the conference room behind a lectern, still wearing the damn bowtie.

“When Angel Crawford was nineteen years old she made a mistake—an error in judgment. No one was hurt, and any damage to property was minimal. In due order she was brought before a judge where she received a suspended sentence and probation.

“Our justice system is intended to rehabilitate offenders, and if we do not allow these people who wish to improve themselves the opportunity to do so, then we have failed them and failed ourselves as a society.

“Angel Crawford is a dedicated and hardworking employee who was the victim of a crime. She was held up at gunpoint and told to turn over the body bag containing a decedent. In most professions employees are told that, if they are robbed or threatened, they are to comply with the perpetrators demands in order to protect their own lives. This office is no different. And to imply that her prior record somehow contributed to this terrible incident—especially without knowing any of the details or reasons for the theft—is as vile an accusation as when a rape victim is blamed for somehow inviting their attack.

“Therefore I wish to make it perfectly clear that I refuse to bow to any of the political games that my opponents and the press are playing, because in this scenario, as in most political games, the pawns we so casually toss around are real human beings and our petty maneuverings have real consequences for them. Suspension or dismissal of Angel would not only rob this agency of one of its finest workers, but it would also give credence to the idea that this office was at fault or somehow negligent. And, I tell you now, it was not.”

There were still several minutes left on the video but I hit stop. “Wow, he sure loves to talk, doesn’t he?”

“Yep,” Derrel said. “He pretty much says the same thing four more times in different ways. I figure he’s going for the ‘Vote for me or I’ll keep talking’ tactic.”

“So I still have a job?”

“Damn straight.” I could hear the broad smile in his voice.

“Hang on a sec,” I said, then covered the receiver. I gave Marcus a probing look. “Did you or your uncle have anything to do with this?”

A smile played over his face, but he shook his head. “I swear, neither of us had anything to do with this.” I thought he had an odd inflection on “this” but I couldn’t be sure. I uncovered the receiver. “Seriously,” I asked Derrel. “What gives? I mean I know how awesome I am, but why would the coroner go public like this?”

“Dr. Leblanc,” Derrel replied. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, the rest of us rallied around you too, but he was the one who went into Dr. Duplessis’s office and told him that if the coroner caved to the pressure to put you on leave or fire you, then not only would he quit but he’d throw every ounce of his support behind whichever of the coroner’s opponents had the best chances of beating him.” Derrel cleared his throat. “There might have been some other stuff said behind closed doors. But whatever was said worked.”

“Wow.” And then because I didn’t know what to say, I said, “Wow,” again.

“You cool with coming back to work Thursday morning? Oh, and you’ve been on paid leave these past few days. Just FYI.”

I grinned. “Yeah. Totally cool.”

“Thank god,” Derrel said fervently. “I thought I was going to end up partnered with Nick.”

“Well, at least he can type,” I teased.

He made an inarticulate sound. “I’ll see you Thursday,” he said.

I laughed and disconnected. “Looks like I have a job again.” I gave my dad and Marcus a quick rundown on how it all came about.

My dad sighed and shook his head. “Weird fucking job,” he muttered, but there was no disgust in his eyes anymore.

Marcus gave me a hug. “I’m happy for you. But I should let you get some rest now.”

“Let me walk you out,” I said.

I accompanied him out to his car. He smiled and moved to kiss me, but I planted a hand on his chest, stopping him. “Here’s the thing, Marcus,” I said. “I like you. A lot.”

His mouth twisted. “This is where you say ‘But I don’t think this is working and we should just be friends,’ right?”

“Oh, no, not at all,” I said, amused as his eyebrows drew together in confusion. “I do think we should go out on dates. I just don’t think we should leap into being boyfriend and girlfriend the way we did. Because, really, we never did date.” I took a deep breath. “I want to see if we have more in common than simply being zombies. And great sex. Because, dude, if that’s the only reason we’re together, then that’s kinda fucked up, and can’t possibly end well.”

“Okay,” he said slowly. He reached and rubbed my shoulders. “I like you, too. A lot.” He looked like he was about to say more, but then apparently changed his mind and simply gave me a rueful smile. “I’d like to date. Get to know you.”