Page 7 of Dirty Valentine (A J.J. Graves Mystery #17)

“It’s not the dead bodies,” Sheldon protested, his voice taking on that defensive tone he used whenever someone questioned his judgment. “Leena appreciates the artistry of what we do here. She finds death fascinating.”

“Sheldon, honey, there’s a difference between appreciating your work and wanting to role-play funeral director and corpse.”

My nose squenched as that unholy image flashed into my brain.

I paused in the doorway, taking in the scene.

Lily sat cross-legged on the floor next to Emmy Lu’s desk, her long dark hair pulled back in a messy bun secured with what looked like a pencil.

She was beautiful in that effortless way that made other women hate her on sight—olive skin that never needed makeup, dark eyes that missed nothing, and a body that belonged on magazine covers despite her diet of gas station coffee and carbs.

Today she wore scrubs the color of sea glass and looked like she hadn’t slept in a week, which was probably accurate given that finals were approaching.

Medical textbooks were scattered around her like fallen soldiers, and she had that slightly manic look that came from too much caffeine and not enough sleep. Which explained the aggravation.

And then there was Sheldon.

I had to blink twice to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating.

Gone was his funereal uniform of slacks and a conservative button-down shirt.

Instead, he stood near the window in baggy black jeans that hung low on his hips, a black T-shirt for some band called Eternal Suffering, and what could only be described as an attempt at emo hair—his usual neat comb-over had been artfully tousled and hung across his forehead in greasy strands.

But it was the eyeliner that really completed the transformation. Thick, uneven lines rimmed his eyes, making him look like he’d either been punched or had applied makeup in a moving vehicle.

“Oh,” I said, unable to stop myself. “What happened to you?”

Sheldon’s cheeks turned bright red beneath the black-rimmed eyes. “Leena said I should try expressing my darker side.”

“Your darker side apparently shops at Hot Topic,” Lily said.

“It’s called embracing the aesthetic,” Sheldon said, tugging at the hem of his shirt. “Leena says conventional fashion is just society’s way of keeping us trapped in conformity.”

“And eyeliner is your path to freedom?” I asked.

“Don’t forget the hair,” Lily added. “I got here just in time to stop him from dyeing it black in the bathroom sink.”

Sheldon unconsciously touched the greasy strands hanging in his eyes. “The box said it was temporary.”

“It’s never temporary,” Lily said.

“You can hardly tell my hair is thinning when it’s combed down like this,” he said. “The TikTok I watched said it’s emo. I might get my tongue pierced.”

“Well,” I said, trying to find something diplomatic to say, “it’s definitely a new look for you. Maybe wait on the tongue piercing. You want to wait to put holes in your body until you know the relationship is going to last.”

“Good point,” Sheldon said. “And Leena’s not that bad. She just dabbles in the dark stuff. No one knows what they want to be when they’re twenty.”

Lily’s lips thinned into a straight line, and I knew she was biting her tongue.

“What were you doing at twenty?” I asked Sheldon.

“I was in mortuary school,” he said automatically.

“But I’m an exception to the rule. Did you know the average age of when a person finds a stable job they stick with for more than ten years is thirty-nine?

So by those statistics all of us could be on a different career path soon.

I mean, did you ever think you’d go from being an ER doctor to doing what you’re doing now? ”

He had a point, and I looked at Lily with raised brows.

“All I’m saying is just be careful,” I said.

“Careful is my middle name,” he said, adjusting his glasses again. “Not really. It’s Ray. My mom watched Goodfellas a lot when she was pregnant with me, and she thought about leaving my dad for Ray Liotta.”

“I guess she decided to stick it out with your dad,” Lily said.

He shrugged. “Until he left with his girlfriend.” He checked his hair in the small wall mirror behind a big vase of fresh flowers. “I should’ve used the hair dye. Leena would’ve liked it. She’s picking me up any minute.”

“In what?” Lily asked, her eyes on the pathology textbook spread across her lap. “Her hearse?”

“It’s not a hearse,” Sheldon said calmly. “It’s a black Lincoln Town Car. Completely different.”

“Right. Because the color scheme is what makes it creepy, not the fact that she bought it from a funeral home in Richmond.”

I cleared my throat. “Sheldon, you know we care about you, right?”

He blinked again, his eyes magnified behind his thick lenses. “Sure,” he said.

“Then I’m going to give you my opinion,” I said. “This girl qualifies as creepy. You should be careful. You’re too smart to ignore red flags when they’re right in front of you.”

Lily looked up. “Finally, someone with sense. Leena wants Sheldon to take her on a romantic midnight picnic.” She closed her textbook with a thud. “In the cemetery.”

“To be fair,” I said carefully. “People do a lot weirder stuff than that.”

“In Olde Town Cemetery,” Sheldon added. “She says the energy there is perfect for communing with spirits, especially now that someone has been murdered.”

“Ah,” I said, narrowing my eyes at Sheldon. “And you said what, exactly?”

He shuffled his feet nervously. “I said I’d think about it.”

“Sheldon,” Lily said with the patience of a saint. “Normal women don’t ask their boyfriends to have picnics in cemeteries. They ask for dinner and a movie. Maybe flowers. Not séances and sandwiches with a side of supernatural.”

“But she’s not normal,” Sheldon said, as if this were a selling point. “She’s unique. Interesting. She reads tarot cards and knows all about crystals and energy fields.”

“She also works at a donut shop and thinks black lipstick is appropriate workplace attire,” I pointed out.

“There’s nothing wrong with self-expression,” Sheldon said defensively, which was rich coming from someone who looked like he’d been attacked by a makeup counter.

“There’s self-expression, and then there’s dating Wednesday Addams,” Lily said. “What’s next? Is she going to ask you to help her perform ritual sacrifices?”

Sheldon’s silence was telling.

“Oh my God,” Lily said, sitting up straighter. “She already has, hasn’t she?”

“It’s not what you think,” Sheldon said quickly. “She just mentioned that some herbs work better when they’re blessed under certain moon phases, and that sometimes you need to offer something to the earth spirits to show respect.”

“What kind of something?” I asked, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

“Just small things. A lock of hair. Maybe a few drops of blood. Nothing major.”

Lily buried her face in her hands. “We’re going to find you dismembered in a pentagram, aren’t we?”

“That’s not how pentagram magic works,” Sheldon said with the confidence of someone who’d clearly done research.

“The fact that you know that is exactly my point,” I said.

A car horn honked outside, and Sheldon immediately perked up like a dog hearing a dinner bell.

“That’s her,” he said, checking his reflection in the window and immediately regretting it when he saw the eyeliner smudged under his left eye.

“How do I look?” he asked, trying to fix the makeup disaster with his finger.

“Like you’re about to become a cautionary tale,” Lily said.

“You look…” I searched for something constructive to say. “Very committed to the aesthetic. And take an umbrella. It looks like it’s going to rain. That won’t be good for your makeup.”

“Just remember,” Lily added, “if she suggests anything involving blood, candles, or ancient burial grounds, the answer is no.”

“What if it’s just candles?” Sheldon asked hopefully.

“No,” Lily and I said in unison.

Sheldon grabbed a black jacket I’d never seen before and headed for the door, the baggy jeans making swooshing sounds as he walked.

“You two worry too much. Leena’s just…spiritually aware.”

“That’s what they said about Charles Manson,” Lily called after him.

The front door closed with a decisive click, leaving Lily and me alone with the lingering scent of whatever hair product Sheldon had used and the certain knowledge that we’d probably be visiting him in jail before the week was out.

“Think he’ll listen?” I asked.

“Not a chance,” Lily said, gathering up her textbooks. “But at least when they find his body, we’ll be able to tell the police we tried to warn him.”

“I should call his mother,” I said. “Except he’s twenty-five years old.”

“Well someone needs to knock some sense into him,” Lily said angrily and then she fell back onto the carpet and put her arms over her face. “Sorry, I’m being awful. Finals are making me crazy. I haven’t slept more than three hours a night in two weeks.”

“I figured as much,” I said. “I’ve been there. And to be fair, Sheldon does need a keeper.”

“I know, I know. I really am worried about him.” Lily dropped her arms down to her side and sat up slowly. “I should get going. These organic chemistry formulas won’t memorize themselves.”

“Good luck with exams.”

“Thanks. And Jaye? Try to get some rest. You look exhausted.”

After she left, I stood there for a moment, thinking about friendship and family and the people we choose to protect. Sheldon might be making terrible decisions, but he was our terrible decision-maker, and we’d watch out for him whether he wanted us to or not.

It was just one more thing to worry about in what was shaping up to be a very complicated week.