Embrace the Grim Reaper (20 page)

“Nah. I’ll walk. Thanks.”

“Okay. See you tonight at dinner, if not before.”

She patted the top of the car and stepped back onto the sidewalk. He eased away from the curb, and she waved to Jack. Aaron stood on the porch watching her, his arms crossed over his chest.

Chapter Thirty-five

“So where are we going?” Death said.

Casey gritted her teeth. “I am going to the library.”

Death made a sound of disgust, focusing on a light blue hand-held computer game, pushing the buttons, turning this way and that with the image on the screen. “You’re so boring. The library, play practice, helping at the soup kitchen. Don’t you ever do anything fun?”

“I used to.”

“Oh, don’t get that whiny tone again.”

Casey walked faster. Death stepped deftly over a raised crack in the sidewalk, eyes still on the game.

“You do realize you could go bother someone more interesting,” Casey said.

“Of course. It’s just, your potential to be interesting is so much greater than most of the others.”

“I can’t see how that could possibly be.”

A car drifted past Casey, and she tried not to show her discomfort. A police car. Not the chief this time, but another officer, wrist bent over the steering wheel as he watched her walk. A few seconds later he was gone, but Casey could feel his eyes between her shoulder blades, a reflection from his rearview mirror.

“See what I mean?” Death said. “That could’ve been something to see.”

Casey peeked at the game Death was playing. “What is that?”

“It’s called Gardener’s Row. You plant flowers, or vegetables, and try to keep them watered, weeded, and bug-free.”

“And you think I’m boring?”

“Hey. Nature is good stuff. And how often do I get to actually grow things?” Death made a face as the game emitted a sound of failure, a crumbling, sucking sound of plants dying and vegetables decomposing. “Unfortunately, I’ve got a rotten thumb.”

“At least you can use your scythe to cut down the stalks when they’re dead.”

“Har, har. You’re a stitch.”

Casey walked up the library steps, moving aside to let a mother with two young children pass. The older child, probably about five years old, craned his neck to see what Death was playing. Recognizing the gardening game, he wrinkled his nose and followed his mother, who gave no sign of seeing anyone but Casey.

“See?” Casey said. “Even little kids know your game is lame.”

Death sat on the bench. “Well, then, let them play the violent stuff. I get plenty of that in my line of work.”

Casey left Death to weeding and entered the library. Stacy greeted her and hooked her up with her usual computer station. She opened the browser and checked her e-mail, remembering her promise to Ricky to check it daily. There were two actual e-mails among the spam. The first, from Ricky: Mom’s fine. Nobody’s been there. The realtor’s showing your house this afternoon. Hope they hate it. Sent the papers to your lawyer. He called this morning, about Pegasus coming around. Call soon, sis, okay? Love, Ricky. P.S. I gave Jewel a call. She was happy to hear from me.

Casey shook her head. He knew what he was doing, calling that awful girl. If anything could get Casey back home…

The second e-mail was from Don, her lawyer. Casey. Your family is fine. Ricky seems annoyed with Pegasus, but not threatened. Your mother has so far been left alone. Got the papers from Ricky. Let me know where to send them, and they’ll be off.

As for the Pegasus car that killed the man two weeks ago, Pegasus claims he didn’t return his car for the new piece, so they are not liable. That was about as far as I got. Will keep you posted.

Keep in touch. Don’t get too lost.

Don

Casey sat back, looking blankly at the words before closing the screen and typing “HomeMaker dryer door latch” into the search engine. She was rewarded with a long list of places to buy door latches, explanations from home repair gurus on how to replace them, and instructions to fix a door if it isn’t latching correctly. She clicked on one of the latter. The basic answer was to put a new latch in, something just about anyone could do on their own. One person said they’d started slapping a large magnet over the door handle to keep it closed during the cycle, and one went so far as to wonder if she should just get a new dryer rather than mess with it.

HomeMaker dryers, along with their parts, were all listed and available. Same latches she and Eric had seen on his computer. Same dryers.

Nowhere could she find anything to indicate Ellen’s latch had ever existed. But it did. And Jack was sure it was a HomeMaker product.

Giving up on that avenue, Casey ran a search for the Pegasus car accident from two weeks earlier. There were only a few hits, a couple about the investigation of the accident—which was inconclusive—and the arrangements for the man’s closed-casket funeral. Casey e-mailed all of the articles to Don, in case he hadn’t seen them.

Inconclusive.

Her family’s accident had remained inconclusive, as well. No matter what her investigators tried, they couldn’t seem to find the one piece of evidence that would nail Pegasus. She knew it was the manufacturer’s fault. They knew it was their fault. Why else would they have performed the recall? But there was no way to make them accountable for Casey’s accident if they could run rings around Casey’s team, and as long as they had the witnesses to say Reuben had been drinking beer the night of the accident. Even if it hadn’t been anywhere close enough to make him drunk, or even approaching the legal limit. With his body destroyed there was no way to check, so it was Pegasus’ innuendo against her word.

They only thing for sure in the whole matter was that Casey’s family was dead.

Casey clicked out of the browser and sat for a moment, staring at the blank screen. Finally, she shook herself, retrieved her driver’s license from Stacy, and went outside. Two teenaged boys sat bent over a book on the bench where Death had been waiting. Casey took a peek at their book as she went past, but couldn’t see what they were reading, other than the colorful illustrations of a graphic novel.

At least they weren’t playing some awful electronic gardening game.

Death was nowhere to be seen, so Casey made her way down the street to Home Sweet Home, where she retrieved her bike. She was beginning to get hungry, but really didn’t want to go back to the diner. She rode to The Nesting Place, parking the bike by the garage.

“Ever thought about why they don’t drive the Orion?” Death peered through the side window of the building.

“Of course. Have you?”

Death shrugged. “Gas guzzler.”

“I’m sure that’s a big reason.”

“You think there are others?”

“Probably. The main one being it’s from Karl. They obviously hate the man, even if he is family.”

“What about the money?”

“What money?”

“That it took to buy that thing. That vehicle represents a huge chunk of change.”

Casey shook her head. “I hate it when you talk like that.”

“Like what?”

“Slang. You should be using Old World English.”

“I’m as contemporary as I am old-fashioned, love.”

“Don’t call me that.” She turned away and walked toward the house on the stone path. “Anyway, they use other things he gives them. Like the TV.”

Death followed her. “True. But the Orion’s worth a lot more. Shouldn’t they sell it and use the money for HomeMaker’s unemployed?”

Casey stopped abruptly, but rather than bumping into her, Death strode right through her. Casey shivered. “Don’t do that.”

“You’re the one who stopped.”

“Anyway…” Casey looked back toward the garage. “What if there’s some reason they can’t sell it?”

“Such as?”

“It’s still in his name?”

“That would work. But why would he do that?”

“I don’t know. In case he wanted it back he could just take it.”

She turned back toward the house and squeezed past Death, not wanting to step off the path into the vegetation. “I’m hungry. I’m going in.”

Death gazed at the back of the house with a smirk.

“What?”

“Never mind. Go ahead. I’ll see you soon.”

Rosemary was in the laundry room, a cup of coffee in her hand, staring out the back window.

“Hey, Rosemary. You okay?”

“What? Oh, sure, I’m fine. What did you and Eric discover?”

Casey’s stomach rumbled. “Would it be all right if I grabbed something to eat while I told you? You can add food cost to my bill.”

“Of course, darling. Let’s find you some lunch.” She hesitated. “Do you want to invite your friend to join us?”

Casey froze. “What friend?”

Rosemary gestured toward the back yard, where Death still stood, smirking at the window.

“You can…you can see someone out there?”

Rosemary sighed. “Yes. I wish I didn’t, but I do.”

Casey closed her eyes, suddenly dizzy. “What about Lillian? Won’t she care?”

“Oh, Lillian’s not here. And she wouldn’t care, anyway. She can’t see…that.”

Casey shook her head.

“Go ahead,” Rosemary said. “I’ll get something ready.” She swept into the kitchen.

Casey opened the back door. “I don’t want this.”

Death smiled and walked into the house. “Of course you don’t. But Rosemary is desperately interesting.”

“She doesn’t seem to like you very much.”

“She’ll warm to me.”

Casey wasn’t so sure.

“Here you go,” Rosemary said as they walked in. “I hope a turkey sandwich with tomato and lettuce is okay.”

“Sounds great,” Casey said.

“Divine,” Death said. “Are they your own tomatoes?”

Casey rolled her eyes.

“They are,” Rosemary said. “You can tell, can’t you? But then, I guess you can see most things.”

“Oh, I’m still learning about vegetables.”

That launched them into a conversation about gardening, and mulch, and the benefits of chicken or cow manure, while Casey chewed her sandwich, silently swearing at Death. Could she not even eat in peace now?

“So, Casey,” Rosemary said. “You were going to tell me what you and Eric discovered.” She glanced at Death, her eyes half-lidded. “I assume you know all about it?”

Death nodded, watching Casey with what one might construe as innocence.

Casey glared at Death and told Rosemary about Aaron’s identification of the parts, HomeMaker’s faulty inventory, and Jack’s recognition of the dryer latch. She ended with her unhelpful trip to the library.

“So we really don’t know much, do we?” Rosemary said.

“Not enough.”

Death pointed at Casey with a potato chip. “I think she should go talk to the banker.”

“Todd?” Casey shook her head. “He’s not going to tell me anything about HomeMaker’s money.”

“What if it’s not about money?”

“What else would it be about?”

“We do have another mystery to solve, don’t we? Not just about the unidentified appliance part?”

“Something that has to do with Todd?”

“Something that has to do with Ellen and Todd.”

“You mean—” She stopped, remembering Todd’s glowing ears when she’d mentioned Ellen, as well as his fury on Ellen’s footage. She looked at Rosemary. “What do you know about Todd’s marriage?”

Rosemary fussed with some breadcrumbs on her plate, pressing them down with a finger, then putting them to her mouth. “I don’t know much.”

“But what you do know?”

“They’ve been married a long time. They have three daughters.”

Casey waited. That was the easy stuff. Even she knew those things. “Did he like Ellen?”

“Of course he did. Everyone did.”

“You know what I mean.”

Rosemary sighed. “I think so. At least, Eric didn’t like the attention Todd paid to her. Todd had even begun working at Home Sweet Home.”

“He doesn’t any more.”

“No. He’d stopped soon before she…” She swallowed. “Before she died.”

“Did she return his feelings?”

Rosemary looked at Casey, her face grim. “I don’t know. She didn’t tell him to get lost, which she should’ve. She was too nice for that.”

“Would she have told him anything about HomeMaker? About what she thought she’d found?”

“I really can’t see…” She shook her head. “She didn’t even tell Eric. She wouldn’t have told Todd. I’m sure of it.”

Casey wasn’t. What if there was a reason for her to tell him? Like money issues for HomeMaker? Or as a trade-off for something else Ellen needed to know?

Casey looked at Death. “I still don’t see how going to talk with him will help. He’s not going to tell me anything about HomeMaker’s finances or Ellen. Unless he thinks I know already.”

Rosemary stopped, her arm halfway across the table, reaching for Casey’s empty plate. “Why would you know things like that?”

Casey snorted. “People are suspicious of me. Thomas Black thinks I’m a spy or something worse, and is convinced I’m here to ruin his life.” She remembered Taffy and Bone, the men in the theater, and shivered.

Rosemary snatched Casey’s silverware and clicked it onto the plate. “Thomas is doing a good enough job of ruining his life on his own. Messing around with Karl’s new trophy wife…” She stood, pushing back her chair with a loud scrape.

“Lonnie didn’t seem to think there was anything going on with them.”

Rosemary dumped Casey’s dishes in the sink. “I hope he’s right.”

Casey stretched, wondering how she could be feeling so tired when she’d slept so late.

“Honey,” Rosemary said, peering over her shoulder. “You look all done in, even with sleeping in this morning. Why don’t you go up to your room and rest for a while.”

Nothing sounded better. “Can I help with the dishes first?”

“No, no, sweetheart. I’ve got it. You go.” She thrust her hands into the soapy water in the sink. “Washing dishes is…comforting. Besides, I’ve got help.” She looked pointedly at Death, who held up hands in mock horror before standing and collecting the rest of the dishes on the table.

Casey used to enjoy washing the dishes. In fact, she and Reuben used to argue over who got to do them while the other kept Omar entertained. After a night of sleep broken by multiple feedings, a day of diaper changes, and attention never wavering from protecting a baby, Casey had longed for a few minutes of solitude. Precious minutes where all that was required of her was to plunge her hands into the warm water and mindlessly wash the bottles and dishes and baby spoons. She’d often ignored the dishwasher, preferring the manual labor, and the time alone.