A Fate Worse Than Death by Jonathan Gould

considering I didn’t actually have a drink, that was quite an achievement.
    “Yeah, she makes me feel like that too,” said Alby, “only slightly worse.”
    “I take it that Sally is the one behind these heavenly police,” I said after regaining my composure.
    “Right first time, sleuth boy.”
    “But you don’t know why?”
    “Like I said, it’s not in the records. What I do know is it was not a popular decision. Apparently the only one who supported her was that little goody-goody angel, Raphael. Everyone else was dead against it. Even God’s own son.”
    “Jesus?” I said.
    “No, the other one. Patrick or something, isn’t it?”
    “Phil, I believe.”
    “It doesn’t really matter. Whatever Sally wants, Sally gets. That’s the way it works up here. And now that you have your information, I seem to recall you saying you could make this worth my while. So, what can you do for me?”
    I called out to the barman. “Get this man a soda water.”
    * * *
    I left The Loaf and the Fishes with my mind spinning like a washing machine in overdrive. What I’d just learnt had thrown the case wide open. Sally was furious with Phil because he’d allowed Alby to stay Heaven. Shortly afterwards, the Heavenly Police Department was established at Sally’s instigation. Phil was now missing and Sally was conducting late night meetings with a sinister stranger. There was no other course of action left to me.
    It was time to pay another visit to that mansion on top of the hill.

Chapter 7
    THE HEAT OF THE MIDDAY SUN beat down upon me as I climbed the hill towards Sally’s mansion. I stopped for a moment to wipe my brow and considered myself lucky to be in Heaven. If it was this hot here, I couldn’t imagine what it must be like in . . . that other place.
    As I reached the top of the hill, my mouth made a big O and my eyes danced a two-step. Even though I had been here the previous night, I was totally unprepared for the sight of Sally’s mansion in the full brightness of day. It stood before me, the sunlight gleaming on its various facades, each of which seemed to have been designed by a different architect from a completely different time period. There were gothic facades and baroque facades and art deco facades and post-structuralist, modernist facades. I hadn’t seen this many facades since the last time I’d had gone undercover at a society party.
    The mansion, by virtue of its elevated position, was clearly the highest structure in all of Heaven, towering even over God’s palace. The way the two buildings faced each other across the humble rooftops below, it seemed as if there was some sort of statement being made. A statement to let everybody know there were other powers in Heaven besides God.
    Or maybe I was reading too much into it. Perhaps she just liked the view.
    I approached the gates and was surprised to find they were unlocked. I pushed them aside and walked up the path towards the veranda. As I ascended the stairs, I couldn’t help noting the absence of creaks. Those things only happen at night, of course. I pushed the doorbell, and from deep inside the house I could hear a low chime. After a couple of minutes, the door opened very slightly and Sally’s head poked out. As soon as she saw me, a smile flashed across her face―the sort of smile that flashes across a crocodile’s face when it sees a dog getting close to the water’s edge.
    “Jimmy Clarenden, I’ve been expecting you,” she said. “I think I might have something for you.” She squeezed through the barely open door, quickly closed it behind her, and stood in front of me, still radiating that subtle physical appeal that could overturn a bulldozer. In her hand, she held a piece of black fabric.
    “I believe you left this here last night,” she said, and then she laughed. “I imagine this is the first time you’ve actually gotten to the bottom of a case.”
    I took the material from her, examined it, and shook my head. “Not