“What about the guy? You were talking about a guy.”
“This Elizabeth Mann’s father. Cyrus Mann. If we have the right person, it could be the man in the photograph we got at the restaurant.”
“Is he still there in Marshland?”
“No.” Eric let out a breath and shook his head. “He hasn’t been there for over seventeen years. And neither has Elizabeth.”
“Seventeen—Why so long ago? What happened back in the early nineties?”
Eric lifted his eyes from the paper, and Casey winced at the pain she saw. “Cyrus Mann was murdered,” he said. “On the same night his teenage daughter disappeared.”
Chapter Twenty-four
“So who murdered Elizabeth’s dad?”
“Lots of theories,” Eric said. “No certain answers.”
“What do we know?”
“It was bad. An execution, really. Shot in the head. Left to die.”
“What do the cops think?”
“This woman didn’t get into it all, but basically it sounds like his murder has never been solved, and the police have stopped trying to solve it.”
“Do you think the cops had something to do with Elizabeth disappearing? I mean, do they think she killed him?”
Eric shrugged. “You heard my side of the phone call. We didn’t talk that long.”
“So let’s see what we can find out.”
They went back inside to use Eric’s iPad. Death sat at the table in Eric’s chair, looking over the scribbled notes from the morning.
“The murder was so long ago,” Casey said, “I wonder how much will even be recorded.”
Death looked up. “How long ago? And who are we talking about?”
“About seventeen years, right, Eric? What was his name? Cyrus Mann?”
Eric looked at her curiously, and sat down in his chair, right on Death’s lap. Death squeezed out from beneath him, and Eric shuddered. “Does your heat work? Can we turn it on? And yes, his name was Cyrus. I told you all this.”
“I wanted to be sure.”
Death was visibly trying to call up the information, finger tapping on chin, eyes unfocused. “Ah, yes. Cyrus Mann. I remember. Not much to go on. You know with these violent, spur-of-the-moment deaths I’m not always there in time to see the cause. Or the perpetrators, anyway.”
“Any witnesses?” Casey asked.
“Haven’t found anything yet,” Eric said. “Give me a minute. It’s not coming up under just her name…”
“Only one other person there,” Death said. “A girl. Fourteen years old. She was holding him when he died.”
“Didn’t he die immediately?”
Eric glanced up. “Why are you asking me these weird questions I don’t have answers to? Oh, here we go. I had to put in everything I knew in order to find it. ‘Man found dead. Daughter missing.’”
“It’s not like the movies,” Death said. “People don’t die instantly, even when they’re shot in the head. Well, if their head is completely blown off I guess they do, but this guy hung on a few minutes. By the time I got there, the girl was the only one—Wait. Are you telling me that girl was Alicia McManus?”
“Elizabeth Mann.”
“Right.” Eric sat up. “‘Cyrus Mann, forty-two, died of head wounds on March 11, 1995. No witnesses, no evidence suggesting who might have done it. His daughter, Elizabeth, fourteen years old, went missing that same night. No clue as to where she went.” He tapped on a later article. “Looks like they did consider her for the murder for a while, but eventually gave up. There were a few other leads, but none of them panned out.”
“What kind of leads? And where was her mother?”
“Didn’t see a mother,” Death said.
Eric flipped through a few screens. “Nothing about a mother. Just stuff about—” His eyebrows rose.
“What?”
“They lived in a car.”
“What?”
“Elizabeth and her dad were homeless. They slept and kept their stuff in a 1973 Chevy station wagon. Says here that first he sold off a woodworking business that he owned, then was hired by a houseboat manufacturer. That job didn’t last very long, and he lost his house in December. Oh, here it says the mother died. Cancer. So she was out of the picture. The townspeople knew him and his daughter, let them keep the car in the local park. The cops left them alone.”
“So generous of them. I don’t suppose any of them had spare rooms Elizabeth and her dad could actually stay in?”
“Oh, you mean like in this house?” Death said. “It’s only been sitting empty for two years.”
“Does it say—what did Elizabeth do before this all happened and she disappeared?”
“Went to school, I guess. Says here she was enrolled at Marshland High School. Hardly ever missed a day until her dad died and she disappeared. After a while people just assumed she was dead, too.” He sat back. “Here’s a photo. That look like our girl?”
Casey studied it. “Hard to tell. She’s so young here.” With innocence in her eyes, instead of haunted sorrow. “I guess it could be.”
“The lady I talked to today was surprised to get my message. She’d assumed that whole thing was over and done with, and her cousin’s disappearance was one of those events that would always be a mystery.”
“Does she think Elizabeth killed her dad?”
“Not from what she said. She’d always thought Elizabeth was a victim, too.” Eric set down the iPad. “You do realize who would be good help with this.”
“The cops. I know. But how do I tell them?”
“You need more, unless you do it anonymously,” Death said. “Attach all these articles to a throw-away email address and send it in.”
Eric put a hand on Casey’s arm, and she jerked, but didn’t pull away. “Maybe it’s time you tell me how you know her name.”
Casey looked at the tabletop. “I’ll tell Detective Watts I found out from Ricky.”
“But then Ricky would get in trouble for not telling them first.”
“How else could I know?”
“You found something in her apartment? At work? Maybe in another hidden place?”
“But I’d have to show them what it was. And I don’t have anything.”
Eric was quiet. “You’re not ready to tell me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You know where you might be able to find more,” Death said.
Casey shook her head, too exhausted to consider it.
Death pushed the button on a small digital projector, and a map of the United States covered the far wall. Texas was highlighted.
“I know,” Casey said. “I know. We have to go.”
“Go where?” Eric said.
Casey sighed. “Where do you think? Marshland, Texas.”
“Without telling the cops?”
“Why would we tell them? They don’t know anything about this.”
“Because…I don’t know. It just seems wrong to sneak away.”
“We’re not sneaking. We’re traveling.”
“And Ricky?”
“I’ll tell Don. He can let Ricky know if he needs to.”
“Are we driving?”
“You and I may not have a lot of things, but there’s one thing we seem to have plenty of.”
“What’s that?”
“Money. We might as well use some of it. It’s not doing anyone any good sitting in the bank.”
Death made a noise. “Just like this house, sitting here empty.”
“So can you buy plane tickets on that thing?” She gestured to the iPad.
Eric nodded. “Sure.”
Death grinned and held up a Nook. “Quicker than you can say the porch light’s on, but nobody’s home.”
Casey left them to it and went upstairs to pack.
Chapter Twenty-five
“First class?” Casey said to Eric. “Really?”
“I know, it seems extravagant, but, as you said, between the two of us we’ve got
more than enough money, plus—” he held up his hand to stop her from arguing “—I couldn’t really see you sitting knee to knee with some annoying businessman from Boulder, wanting to sell you life insurance. Violence is usually frowned upon when flying commercial.”
He had a point.
“I’m going to see if the flight attendant has an extra blanket,” Eric said, standing up. “I can’t get over this chill.” He moved down the aisle, toward the attendants’ supply area.
“You could’ve reserved one more ticket.” Death remained in Eric’s seat, which Eric had unknowingly been sharing. “Where am I supposed to go?”
“Baggage? Overhead compartment? Hell?”
“I don’t spend time in Hell, and you know it. It’s very…unpleasant. And hot.”
“You have to take people there, don’t you?”
“Way out of my job description, my dear. You know that. My thing is to pick up and deliver to…you know who. After that they’re on their own. Or not.”
She looked out at the clouds, floating far below them. “So tell me, is Saint Peter really guarding the gate?”
Death grinned. “Come now, you don’t really want me to spoil the surprise, do you?”
“Got one for you, too.” Eric was back, and handed her a folded blanket. “She’s also going to bring me some coffee. I need something. I hope I’m not getting a cold.”
Casey looked at Death, who grudgingly gave up Eric’s seat. She smiled. “I think you’ll be warmer now.”
Eric sat down in his empty place, and Death hovered for a moment in the aisle. “Fine. See how you feel when someone leaves you out.” The attendant was coming down the aisle with a tray of hot drinks, so Death gave Casey one more glare and disappeared, sucked up into the neighboring row’s air vent. The older couple in those seats shivered, fiddled with the knobs, and went back to what they were doing before.
Eric warmed up eventually, then wondered why he’d even worried about body temperature once they hit the ground in Dallas. “It must be eighty-five degrees down here.”
“At least.” Casey enjoyed the sun on her face as they walked out to their full-size rental car. “You driving?”
Marshland, Texas, was a sleepy town literally, as well as in a manner of speaking. It was past midnight by the time they had stopped for a very late dinner and pulled up in front of the only motel in town, which was a one-story, park-at-the-door type place. Eric wrinkled his nose, but Casey had slept in worse. Far worse.
“I got this.” Casey went into the office and asked for two rooms.
“How many nights?” The kid behind the desk was probably in high school. He wore a Skillet T-shirt and jeans that hung off his practically nonexistent butt. His hair was sandy brown and hung in his eyes, making him look young and sort of clueless. What he was doing manning a night desk was a mystery, but also not any of Casey’s business, so she didn’t ask.
“Not sure how long we’re staying. Can we let you know day by day?”
He shrugged. “Don’t matter to me. It’s not like we’re full up.” He took her cash and handed her two keys. “Rooms are around back. Quieter back there.”
“Thanks.” She put her wallet away. “Any chance you know Betsy Lackey?”
He nodded as he put her money in the cash drawer. “Sure. She’s Billy’s mom.”
“Know where they live?”
“Right downtown. Blue house on the corner by the stoplight.”
The stoplight. Not a specific stoplight. Just ‘the’ stoplight.
“She work days?”
“At the pharmacy, last I knew. Not sure exactly what she does there.”
“Married?”
“Well, yeah. He’s the physics teacher at the school.”
Again with the singular ‘the.’
“All right. Thanks.”
“How come you’re looking for Mrs. Lackey?”
“We called her today about her cousin.”
“Which one?”
Casey deliberated, then finally decided there was no reason not to tell him. “One from way back. She disappeared in the nineties.”
He went still, and his eyes opened wide. “Seriously? That one? She went to school with my dad. Did you find her?”
“So you know about her?”
“Do I—I mean—Sure. She’s the local legend. Well, her and Cyrus, you know, her old man. There’s all kinds of stories.”
“Like what?”
He leaned forward, his fingers spread on the counter. “They lived in a car, for one thing. And they were mixed up with bad folks.”
“What kind of bad folks?”
“Depends who’s talking. Drugs. Smugglers. Weapons. Slave traders.”
“Slave traders? What slaves?”
“You know. People from Mexico. They want to come up, they got to pay some guy, and they end up working for him forever for nothing. It’s messed up. I wrote all about it for my government class. Been going on for ages.”
“What about Elizabeth? Your dad know her very well?”
“Yeah, I guess. This size town, you pretty much know everybody. But it’s not like he talks about her a lot, or anything. I think they were friends back then, or maybe even more than that, you know? But he married my mom, and, well, it’s not a subject that comes up too much.”
“Think he’d talk to me?”
“Probably. I can ask.”
“I’d appreciate that…what’s your name?”
“Robert. You can call me Robbie, if you want. Everybody does.”
Casey smiled. She was liking young Robert. “Well, thanks a lot, Robbie. You can call me Casey.”
He shook her hand formally. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”
Ma’am. Somewhere along the way she’d turned into one of those. Or maybe it was Texas manners.
“Um, did you find her, or something?” He didn’t want to let her go without an answer.
He was going to have to. Casey smiled, but didn’t tell him anything more.
She and Eric found their rooms and paused to say goodnight under the awning that went the length of the building.
“Any certain time in the morning?” Eric asked.
“Don’t think there’s a rush. It’ll be better if we catch people once they’re up and around. No use spoiling anyone’s morning.”
“All right, then. See you whenever.”
“Yeah.”
They stood there awkwardly for a few moments until Casey turned and went into her room, locking it and leaning against the door.
“Two rooms?” Death said from a seat on the bed. A projector beamed a Houston Texans game onto the wall, and Death was texting someone with one eye on football and one eye on the phone. “Waste of money.”
“Like we’ve been worried about that today. First class plane tickets. Big car. Eating out.”
“Whatever. You’re scared.”
“I’m not scared.”
“Are too.”
Casey slammed the door of the bathroom and took a very long, very hot shower. When she came out, Death was still there, although now instead of football the projector was showing “No Country for Old Men.”
“Seriously?” Casey said. “Could you be more depressing?”
“It’s the real Texas.”
“I don’t think so. How about something uplifting, like ‘Apollo 13?’”
“That was Texas?”
“Houston, we’ve had a problem.”
“Oh. Right.”
“Anyway, no matter what state it’s about, you have to turn it off. I’m going to sleep.”
Death pouted. “You’re never any fun.”
“And you’re a barrel of dead monkeys.”
Death harrumpfed, rolled off the bed, and was gone.
Casey fell asleep fast, but was wide awake by six, without a prayer of drifting off again. She got dressed and went out for a run.
The town was as small as she had imagined. “The” pharmacy, school, and bank were all quiet and dark, with no
sign of life except the digital clock hanging on the corner of the bank. The gas station-slash-convenience store was open, making Casey think of home, but she didn’t stop. She passed the stoplight—one of those blinking red ones, not even a full-fledged green-yellow-red—which meant she was passing Betsy Lackey’s blue house. She saw a light in what was probably a bathroom, with a frosted glass window, but decided against a spur-of-the-moment visit. Pulling someone out of the shower wasn’t exactly a way to get off on the right foot.
The streets were neat and clean, and the houses well-cared for. She didn’t see anyone sleeping in a car or in a doorway, and saw nothing that said there was a bad part of town. By the time she got back to the hotel, she was convinced Marshland was much more an “Apollo 13” kind of town than a “No Country for Old Men” town. Thank God. The last thing Casey needed was some creepy guy coming after her with a handmade airgun.
Eric was sitting outside reading his iPad. “So you’re not even in there. I was afraid to make any noise since you were being so quiet.”
“Couldn’t sleep any more.”
“Want to grab some breakfast? The kid in the office told me there’s a good diner on the opposite edge of town.”
“Robbie?”
“You mean the kid? I guess. Same one as last night. He was getting ready to head out for school. Not sure how he’ll function, since he was working all night.”
“Teenager.” That description would account for many things people could do that seemed superhuman. “Give me a few minutes, okay?” She showered and went back out to find Eric still sitting there.
“Forgot to tell you,” Eric said. “The kid said his dad will talk to you, if you want. He works second shift, so the best time to catch him is early afternoon.”
They found the diner, had a good breakfast, and were in the middle of “downtown” by eight-thirty. The pharmacy was open, so they walked down the street and into the store.
“Can I help you?” a woman said.
Casey turned to reply, but was struck dumb. The woman at the counter was the spitting image of Alicia McManus.
Chapter Twenty-six
“Can I help you?” the woman said again.
Dying Echo: A Grim Reaper Mystery (Grim Reaper Series) Page 16