Excerpt: Keeping Dead Girls for Fun and Profit

"I counsel dead folks," Earl said. "They talk about whatever is on their minds, have a good cry or shout according to inclination, then they move on to whatever happens after you're dead. Which I don't know anything about."
"How'd you get a cool gig like this?"
"Cool?" Earl asked and got up in her face. "It's awful. I haven't had a proper night's sleep since, well, ever. Instead, I get six hours of weeping old ladies and angry young guys."
"You ever get murder victims?" Sam asked, suddenly serious.
She bit her thumbnail, which was such a normal, human thing to do, it was impossible to believe that she was really dead, just a soul floating around in the universe's waiting room.
"Not yet. Why?"
"Because I think I am one."
"How do you know?"
Sam scooted closer and spoke in a low voice.
"I just started to remember. There were these people in a circle around me, chanting 'tell Early Hours, there is a way to quit,' which is a dumb thing to chant, if you ask me." She leaned back and raised her voice to a shout. "And then they freaking killed me. This sucks!"
"How did they kill--" Earl started to ask. "You know what? Never mind. I don't think I want to know."
"Neither do I," Sam said. "Did you know, it's possible to feel queasy even without a body? Wonder of the universe, that."
"So, somebody killed you to send a message to me?"
"Maybe I'm low on faith in humanity right now, but I think maybe you should keep doing this instead of visiting the nice people with knives. Sounds like the safer option."
"Safer option? You don't know what you're talking about. This has ruined my life. I have to find out who these people are."
Earl stood and Sam looked up at him, her expression part curious and part disgusted.
"Even if they're murderers?"
"Look, I'm real sorry about what happened to you and all, but if there's someone out there who can take me off the afterlife therapy registry, I'm going to see them."