Dying Echo: A Grim Reaper Mystery (Grim Reaper Series)

by Clemens, Judy

  “I know,” Don said. “It’s been a hard time for you, too. But think about it…”

  “Scout doesn’t even have a mother,” Death said. “I’m sure she would have been overjoyed to spend time with one if she had been lucky enough—”

  “Will you shut up about that book?”

  “What book?” Don’s forehead wrinkled. “You have been having the strangest outbursts today.”

  “Oh, God. I know. I’m sorry. It’s…the stress. And I haven’t been sleeping well.”

  “Sure.” Although he didn’t look too sure. “You want to take a nap at my house? I’m sure Mel would be fine with that.”

  “I don’t want to bother her. I’ll just…I have some places to go.”

  “All right.” He put the car in gear. “So where should I drop you?”

  “Actually, nowhere.” She got out and leaned back in the open door. “I’ll walk.”

  “Casey—”

  She shut the door and held up three fingers. Three o’clock. That’s when she’d be back at his office to go visit her little brother in jail. She could see Don wanted to say more, that he would argue with her about being on her own that far across town, so she waved, and walked away.

  Chapter Six

  “You okay? You look a little pale.” Death leaned toward Casey. “I’m really not so sure this was a good idea.”

  Casey ignored the nagging and breathed in the surroundings. It had taken her almost an hour and a half to walk there from the police station. As Watts had said, the accident site was outside the city limits. Not super far, but enough for a good hike. Casey gazed up at the mountains. They remained the same as they always had been. Permanent. Unfeeling. Beautiful. The sky was blue, with puffy white clouds. The trees glowed with autumn.

  Their car had been going a decent speed when it went out of control. Not over the limit. Not reckless. Just a normal straight-road kind of speed. One moment they were moving along, singing a nursery rhyme, and the next they were sliding into the guardrail with a clash of metal and glass, hood buckling, tires screaming, leaving their blackened tire trails on the pavement. Once the movement stilled, Casey had glanced quickly toward her husband, confirmed that he was shaken but intact, then yanked off her seatbelt and stumbled out of the car, shoving the door open with her shoulder, calling all the while to her crying son in the back seat that Everything is okay, baby, I’m right here.

  But then she wasn’t.

  The force of the blast had catapulted her backward, the car’s door a steel wall between her and the shrapnel and flame. When she awoke, the faces she saw were not Reuben’s or Omar’s, but the detached, professional expressions of two paramedics.

  “My family,” she’d croaked.

  The man holding her wrist looked away. The other one slumped his shoulders only a fraction. But it was enough.

  “Reuben!” Casey struggled to break free. The men held her down with hands and even knees, but she wasn’t trained to accept submission. A head butt to the first guy’s nose sent him flying backward into the second, who lost his grip on her legs. The second guy scrambled to grab her again, but a swift kick to his solar plexus stopped him as he buckled in half, gasping for air.

  Casey stumbled forward, where firefighters in bright yellow uniforms surrounded the blackened hull of what had been her car. They didn’t see her coming, or they would have stopped her from barging through, from seeing the melted upholstery, the steel frames of the seats, and her husband, still clasping the steering wheel, even though he could no longer see where the car was headed. His hands, charred and exposed, were the last part of him she’d ever see.

  The firefighters had wrestled her away, kicking, screaming, and biting, before she could see into the back seat, where her baby had died. The coroner all but refused to let her see him once he was in the morgue, and in her shock and despair she didn’t realize most of what was happening during the next week until it was too late. Her son was buried without her being able to say a last good-bye. She would be thankful after it all that her final image of Omar hadn’t been of his broken, blackened body.

  The guardrail must have been repaired some time later. Now it shone silver in the sun, brighter than the sections to the right and left. The burned grass had replenished itself, and the gravel along the shoulder looked the same as all the rest. There were no crosses or plaques or any other outward sign to show that this was where Casey’s life had changed forever. Where she had lost everything.

  Except she hadn’t lost her brother. He was something. A big something. And he needed her.

  “Okay. I’m ready to go.” Casey turned, expecting Death to be waiting.

  But Death was nowhere to be seen.

  Chapter Seven

  The house looked the same as it always had as Casey was growing up. A pleasant enough white two-story on a small, winding street, with an attached garage, brass numbers on the door, and a cast iron lamppost at the end of the sidewalk. The mountains stood magnificently in the background, and the neighborhood gave off the feeling of comfort and stability.

  What was different about the house was the state of repair. It wasn’t horrible. It didn’t look empty. But the bushes had become overgrown, and the flowerbeds lay dormant and brown. The lawn was a mixture of too-long grass and leaves, and weeds grew up in cracks in the driveway.

  A stab of worry sent Casey a little faster up the walk. Her mother had always been meticulous about the yard. Flowers in every season but winter—and then the poinsettias bloomed inside—mown grass, cleared driveway. One of the shutters hung crookedly, and several shingles were missing from the roof. Had this really all happened in the last week since Ricky had been in prison?

  It wasn’t possible.

  Casey felt a flood of shame. Ricky had been so busy keeping track of her place during the past couple of years, making sure it was up for realtor walk-throughs and prospective buyers, that he hadn’t been able to help their mother. Had her mom really gone downhill so much since Casey had seen her that she couldn’t even maintain her place on her own?

  Casey stood at the door, her hand raised, as if to knock.

  “You don’t just walk into your mother’s house?” Death waited beside her, twisting over the railing to see in the window.

  “I used to.”

  “And now is different because…”

  “I’m a bad daughter.”

  “I see. Only good daughters get to go in unannounced? Then I will go out on a limb and say there are a lot of women who shouldn’t have keys to their parents’ homes.”

  “You mean there are more people who have abandoned their mothers, and left their little brothers to rot in prison?”

  “He’s been in for a week, Casey. That’s hardly rotten. A little ripe, maybe, but that’s about it.”

  Casey took a deep breath through her nose. It wasn’t worth getting angry with Death. Death had a mouth that flapped a lot, but she couldn’t exactly slap it.

  “So?” Death gestured to the door.

  Casey slowly turned the doorknob. It didn’t budge.

  “You could kick it down,” Death suggested.

  Casey didn’t bother replying. Instead, she rang the doorbell. And then she knocked. There was no answer.

  “Back door?” Death hopped over the rail, already on the way around the corner. Casey followed, trying to look past the drawn curtains to the interior, but all she could see was fabric. When she got to the back, Death was coming out the door. Actually, coming through it.

  “What’s going on?” Casey said.

  “Your mom’s just sitting there. Staring into space.”

  “You were not invited in.”

  “Tell me about it. I’m never invited. But it’s not like I’m a vampire in those books kids read these days. I don’t have to be invited. You know, I’m wondering where that myth came from, anyway.” Death pulled the ebook reader out and began tapping the screen.

  Casey put her hand over it. “You don’t have to be polite, either?
You can just walk into non-dying people’s houses?”

  “For heaven’s sake.” Death brushed her hand away, and she drew back, shivering. “Like you’re Miss Manners.”

  Casey blew on her fingers, then tried the door. It was locked, just like the front. The window in the door was clear of obstruction, the curtains drawn to the side, so Casey cupped her hands around her eyes to peer in. “The kitchen looks exactly the same as when I was a kid. Except dark.”

  “How about knocking?”

  Casey tried. Again, no response.

  “I’d say she doesn’t want company,” Death said. “What are you doing?”

  Casey was crouched beside a flowerpot that held a dead plant. “There’s a key under here. Or at least there used to be. Here we go.” She stood up, dusting her hand off on her jeans and holding up a silver key. She took another deep breath and slid the key into the lock. The door opened, like it always had when she would come home from school.

  “Mom?” Casey poked her head through the doorway, then walked all the way in. The smell of her childhood tickled her nose. Lysol and gardenia mixed together, but only faintly, as if they were merely distant memories, rather than anything present day. “Mom?”

  Death swirled around her to materialize in the doorway to the dining room. “This way, Casey.”

  Casey followed, shivering in the air Death left behind.

  Her mother sat by the front window, but she wasn’t looking out of it. Instead, she sat stiff-backed, staring at the far wall, her hands clasped together on her lap. She wore a light blue sweatshirt with cardinals on it, and a loose, elastic-waisted pair of jeans. Her hair looked like it hadn’t been washed—or even combed—for a very long time. Perhaps since Ricky had been arrested the week before. She had become, in the two years since Casey had left, an old woman.

  Casey followed her mother’s gaze to the wall and went weak-kneed. The little shelf that had always held Casey and Ricky’s school pictures was still full. Only now the shelf held photos of Omar. His first baby picture, his three-month, the six-month taken only days before his death. In each photo—well, except for the newborn one—he was grinning that gummy smile, his dark eyes bright, his shock of black hair sticking up, even after they’d worked so hard to plaster it down.

  “You okay?” Death stood between Casey and the photos, almost solid enough to block the view.

  “I’m fine.” Casey wrenched her eyes from the pictures and knelt by her mother’s chair. “Mom?”

  “I don’t know,” Death said. “She’s not looking so good. Kinda like you right now, all white and everything, except older. She has definitely lost weight since we last saw her. I mean, look at those skinny arms.” Death pulled out an iPad and held it up. “See? Photo from before the accident. It’s like she’s not even the same person.”

  Casey waved the iPad out of her face and touched her mother’s arm. “Mom. It’s me, Casey.”

  “Of course it’s you.” Her mom’s head snapped toward her, and her eyes flashed. “I think I still know my own daughter. Even if you have forgotten us.”

  Casey sat frozen, shocked into silence.

  Death, however, had no such issues. “Woo-wee! You are your mother’s daughter, aren’t you? Good thing she doesn’t know kung fu.”

  “You take off, leave me, leave Ricky. Let that woman come into our lives. His life. And now look what’s happened. Your little brother is in jail. Locked away with criminals. How do you think he’ll be treated in there?”

  Not something Casey wanted to consider. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m back now. I’m here to help.”

  “Like that will work, with the cops all hunting you.”

  “Not anymore.”

  Her mother’s eyes filled. “They caught you, too?”

  “No, Mom. I’m free. It’s taken care of. I’m here now. The cops aren’t after me.”

  Her mother grabbed Casey’s arm with spidery fingers. “You’re home? For good?”

  Casey glanced at Death, who waited with undisguised interest for her answer. “I don’t know, Mom. I came home to help Ricky.”

  Her mother’s clutch loosened, but she didn’t let go. “Well, that’s something. Isn’t it?”

  “It’s something.”

  Her mom picked at Casey’s sleeve. “Have you been to see your brother?”

  “Going this afternoon. Do you want to come along? I can have Don put you on the list.”

  Her mother shook her head, slowly at first, and then vehemently. “No. I can’t see him there. I can’t. It was bad enough losing him to…to that woman. Now I’ve lost him for good.”

  “Not for good. We’ll get him out.”

  Her mother’s eyes bored into hers. “I don’t see how you’ll do that. She fixed him up good. That little…witch.”

  “The plot thickens,” Death said. “Or at least gets interesting.”

  “Mom, from what I hear, Ricky loved her.”

  Her mother grumbled. “He was obsessed with her. There’s a difference. Your brother is a sweetheart, we all know that. Would do anything for anybody. Has done everything for you.” She shook her head. “I thought he was smarter than other men. I guess I was wrong. A pretty face comes along and he’s as dumb as they come.”

  Death whistled. “I am so feeling the love.”

  “Mom, what made her so bad?”

  “Besides getting herself killed and accusing him?”

  “She didn’t…why didn’t you like her before?”

  Her mother let go of Casey’s sleeve and again clasped her hands in her lap. “She took him over. His whole life. It was all Alicia this and Alicia that. I couldn’t…” She closed her eyes again, and her knuckles went white from the strain of her grip.

  “She couldn’t compete,” Death said.

  It sounded that way.

  Death rushed on. “And she apparently had no idea Alicia wasn’t the girl’s real name. You realize Ricky probably didn’t know, either. He gave the police this fake one. Makes you wonder just how well he knew her, after all.”

  It made Casey wonder a lot of things. “When did Ricky meet her, Mom?”

  Her mother’s eyes didn’t open, and she talked in a low voice. “A few months ago. July? June? I can’t remember. I don’t know. It was probably going on long before I knew about it.”

  Certainly before Casey had known about it. She’d talked with him a few weeks ago, before all this had happened, and he hadn’t said a word. She’d even teased him about women, and had warned him to stay away from another one he’d dated who Casey hadn’t liked. He hadn’t said anything about Alicia. Probably afraid Casey wouldn’t like this one, either. Ironically, having her mother hate the girl so much made Casey feel less angry with Alicia, and even sorrier that she’d ended up the way she had.

  “What do you know about her, Mom? Where was she from? How long has she been here in town?”

  Her mother shrugged her bony shoulders. “Ricky never told me much. She worked at some awful diner on North Jackson. Terrible food. Your brother convinced me to go there one time. The mashed potatoes were fake, and the gravy came from a can. The pie was cold and doughy.” She shivered. “I wonder when the health department last checked up on the kitchen.”

  “Alicia was a waitress?”

  “I suppose. Ricky met her when he made a food run for that catering company he works for. Not that the girl’s restaurant had the good sense to buy their food. This was for some huge banquet or other. The girl had been hired on as extra wait staff for the event. Ricky took one look and…” Her jaw came forward. “That’s all.”

  “She never visited here? You didn’t get to know her?”

  Her lips twitched. “Ricky never brought her. My opinion apparently didn’t matter.”

  “Ah,” Death said. “Now we’re getting to it.”

  “Or,” Casey said, “he was forming his own opinion before getting yours, Mom. That’s only natural.”

  “Hmpf.”

  Casey glance at Death. Her mother had
never been this snarky before. The whole affair had obviously been more than she could handle.

  “Plus, you haven’t exactly been here for her,” Death said. “Who knows how long she’s been this way?”

  Great.

  “Anything else I should know, Mom? Anything that might help Ricky?”

  “I’ve already said. It was the girl. You find out about her, you’ll find out who really killed her.”

  “You’ve told me all you know?”

  Her mother leveled her eyes at her. “I told you—I don’t know much. Your brother—and that girl—made sure of it. Why would that be if she didn’t have something to hide?”

  Casey stood up, knees cracking. “Okay, Mom. I’ll look into it. I’ll find out why she was such a mystery.”

  Her mother grabbed her hand. “Casey. I am glad you’re home. I’ve missed you.”

  Casey put her arms around her mother’s shoulders, which were so much frailer that she remembered.

  “I’ve missed you, too, Mom.”

  Her mother stiffened, and Casey backed away.

  “Come back and see me,” her mother said.

  “Of course I will.”

  “Don’t let me hear that you’ve left town again.”

  “I’ll be back, Mom. I promise.”

  Her mother turned away, returning to her posture of staring at the far wall, her hands knotted together on her lap.

  “Bye, Mom. Just for now.”

  Her mother’s only response was a tightening of her lips.

  Casey avoided looking at the photos on the shelf, even though they pulled at her like living things. Omar. Her sweet baby. Dead and gone.

  Once outside, she took a deep breath and made her way toward the front yard. Out on the sidewalk she paused and glanced toward the front window, where she could imagine her mother hiding behind the curtain. “Why would Ricky and Alicia stay away from Mom? Why keep everything so secret?”

  “Because they were afraid,” Death said.

  “Of the Three? You think Alicia told Ricky about them?”

  Death pulled out an iPod and stuck in the earbuds. “No, I’m sure she never mentioned them to him. It would have freaked him out, and most likely she was trying to forget them herself.”