Dead Trash Detective

Cale Henituse had died at an old age, he thought that the afterlife would be peaceful. Until he landed in hell...because of a mistake...That damn God of Death.

80 years he had endured it, made a couple of (Victorian and some punk British guy?) friends along the way. Started a business for ghosts with mysteries that needed to be solved, and hides from the God of Death because fuck him.

"Where else is she gonna go?"

"She can find that insolent little Emma and take Polaroids in a graveyard or some nonsense. We don't interact with living people."

"Admit it. Feels good to be seen by someone
our own age who's alive, doesn't it?"

"Charles, you cannot keep her."

Rok soo butted into the conversation, fight, argument or whatever. "We don't want a repeat of
the infamous puppy debacle of '94, do we?"

"Okay. I get it now.
You're both jealous there's someone else here."

"Jealous?" Edwin said, a bewildered look adorning his face

Just then the girl (Crystal, he reminded him self) entered the room "uh, hi...again."