by Judy Clemens
“What about the women? Or did people only blame the husbands?”
“One was having an affair with a married man from another town. People thought maybe his wife came after her, or he himself was trying to break it off.” She shook her head. “You look at this town and think everybody’s so normal, but it’s like anywhere. Look too deep and you find something rotten.”
“Has anyone tried to bring back the case?”
“Not for years. Like the groundhog, there were others who passed away. The farther we get from it, the fewer people can answer questions.”
“And they never narrowed the investigation down to any of those suspects?”
“Nope. But that didn’t mean people didn’t cast blame. That kind of stuff takes root, you know? People suspect others, or make comments, and they can never really forget what so-and-so said, or what might have happened. It’s sad. And annoying, too, that people are ready to believe whatever somebody says.”
She slowed as they approached the intersection. “The couple getting divorced split, and the husband moved away because so many people suspected him. The woman having the affair got dumped by both her husband and her lover, and ended up moving to San Francisco with another woman.” She sighed. “People in this town can make your life hell if you let them.”
Whistler took Casey past a few blocks of nice, mid-range houses, then made a right, where they met up with Main Street. Whistler stopped at the Dailys. “Thanks again for catching the boys tonight.”
“Glad to help.” Casey hesitated. “So were your predictions right about what happened to Lance last night?”
“Of course. Nobody wants to make these kids face the music.” She barked a laugh. “I’m barely out of being a kid myself, but come on. Even after tonight, Lance’s parents yelled at him for a while, then asked if they could take him home. They were madder about having to come into town again than what he painted on the store.” She sighed. “We’ll see if Vern will press charges or not. If he doesn’t…” She shrugged. “And the other kids, the ones who encouraged him to do it, what can I charge them with? Being a dick?”
“Isn’t there an accomplice charge?”
“Sure, but first we’ve got to prove it, and how is that going to happen? We dusted the fusebox for fingerprints, but it’s such a mess it was useless. Somebody’s gotta make these kids treat other people with respect. If their parents don’t do it, who will?”
“You’re doing your best.”
She rubbed her hands on the steering wheel. “Am I?”
Casey waited for more, but when none came she opened her door. “Thanks for the lift.”
“Any time. Give me a call if you need me. You’ve got my number.”
Casey shut the door, and the cruiser eased away.
“Well.” Death spoke from behind her. “Have I got a story for you.”
Casey waited until she was back in her room—by way of the fire escape—and under the covers before responding to Death’s prompt. Her ribs ached and her face tingled, which she hoped meant the healing had begun in earnest. “Okay. What story do you want to tell me?”
Death jumped onto the bed, making no bounce, wearing girls’ pink pajamas with a red scarf, and long, dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. Again, a reference Casey was sure she should get, but didn’t. For some reason, Jennifer Garner came to mind. Some movie about turning back into a child? Casey wasn’t sure. And she didn’t care.
“My story could fit in the timeframe of the anonymous note. Forty-five years ago this woman, Wilma Adams, had a Halloween party to which she invited all of the young married women in the town, and right in the middle of the party—
“—two people tied them up and threatened to burn the house down. One woman died, and one woman wet her pants, which, apparently, is a fate worse than death.” She gave a muffled laugh. “Isn’t it nice to know you rank higher than excrement?”
Death’s mouth turned down. “You sure know how to spoil a person’s fun. And wasn’t that cop saying something about showing people respect?”
Casey rolled onto her side and plumped her pillow. “You’re not a person. And you shouldn’t be eavesdropping on conversations when I don’t know you’re there.”
“Fine. Anyway, what if this party is the thing the note was talking about?”
“What part would you think Dottie played in it? Frightened party-goer? Masked intruder? Caterer?”
“I don’t know. Maybe she’s the one who told everyone the other woman peed her pants.”
“Definitely something to blackball someone for, with consequences lasting half a century.”
“You women keep grudges for the longest time. Ask me some of the things I’ve seen.”
“What do you mean, ‘you women’? Look at what you’re wearing right now.”
“You just said I’m not a person. And being a ‘not person’ means I can be whatever I want, so for now I can say ‘you women.’”
“Fine. But just so you know, men don’t keep grudges because they kill whatever offends them. That’s how wars get started.”
“You don’t have to tell me that. I know how they start and how they end. It’s never for a reason that makes any logical sense.”
“Mmphf,” Casey said into her pillow.
“Go on, ask me,” Death said.
Casey didn’t respond.
“Ask me some of the things I’ve seen.”
Casey closed her eyes. “I’m tired. Go away.”
“You sure?”
Casey snored. It was fake, but she made it sound real.
“Okay. I can take a hint.”
“Can you?”
Death harumphfed and disappeared.
This time, Death let Casey sleep until morning.
Chapter Twenty
After the interrupted night, Casey slept until seven-thirty, when a headache woke her. She wasn’t usually a late sleeper, but could have used more before getting up for her run. Despite her head, she enjoyed the quiet stillness of the morning. She suspected most people in the town took the day off, using it for church and rest and family activities. She breathed in the fresh air and marveled at how the crops had changed in two days. After the first mile, her headache dissipated, and she sped up to her usual pace.
Vern told her that “of course” he would have his store open on Sunday, because apparently he didn’t believe in days off. He wouldn’t open until noon, at least, when people would be heading home after services.
Casey got in her miles and was performing a kata in the Dailys’ basement when the stairs creaked. She paused in a crouch, watching as Vern’s feet, then legs, then the rest of him appeared.
“We’ll be leaving for church in a few minutes.” He ducked his head below the ceiling to look at her. “We’d love to have you join us.”
“You should.” Death hunkered beside her, wearing a matching dobak. “You can’t ignore God forever.”
“I’m not ready,” Casey said.
Vern waved that aside. “Nothing really starts for a half hour yet. For now it’s coffee and snacks. We usually go over at nine-thirty, to avoid the crowd.”
Casey bet they did. “I’ll finish here, and then I’ll see.”
“It would be really great if you came.”
Casey wasn’t so sure. “Which church is it?”
“White one on the corner, with the yellow mums. Methodist.”
“You go on. Maybe I’ll meet you there.”
He hesitated, then went back upstairs.
Death straightened, ready to speak.
“I am not ignoring God,” Casey said.
Death’s lips pursed. “Glad you can fool yourself so easily.”
Casey finished her routine, kicking, rolling, punching. By the time she was done perspiration dripped from her chin. Death lounged on the exercise bike, drin
king from a bottle of Purely Angelic H2O. Casey stalked to the shower to rinse off her sweat and irritation. When she came out, Death was sitting in the chair in her bedroom, wearing a black suit and shiny shoes, reading a newspaper entitled Heavenly Happenings.
Casey stood in her underwear. “I don’t have church clothes.”
“Don’t think Vern cares.” Death didn’t look up from the paper. “I know God doesn’t.”
Casey let her chin fall to her chest, and her shoulders slumped.
“It would be nice for the Dailys to be accompanied by a friendly face.”
“Azrael, they’ve been doing this for years. It’s not like they’re heading into a new situation.”
“Except someone sent them that bitter anonymous note.”
“What is anybody going to do at church? It’s not like they’re going to attack them in front of a whole congregation.”
“Maybe not physically.” Death peered over the paper.
“You’re right. You’re right! Fine. Church can be a nest of gossip, and the note-writer did say the Dailys needed to come clean or they’ll wish they had. But wouldn’t they give them more than a day to fess up to whatever it is?”
“That’s the problem with an anonymous note. You can’t discuss it.”
Casey shuffled through her clothes to find something presentable. She picked her darkest jeans and a plain blue T-shirt. Her running shoes would have to do.
“You don’t think they’ll use the service as a way to come clean, do you? Like during sharing time? I really don’t want to be there for that.”
“Vern sounded desperate for company. Maybe he needs moral support.”
“From someone he’s known two days?”
“Honey, look at this room. It’s beautiful and perfect and completely clean. Why? Were they waiting for you?”
“It sounds so creepy when you say it like that.”
“It is a creepy. But also sad. They lost a daughter. Maybe they’re looking for someone to fill a part of that empty space.” Death let the paper fall flat. “And you know something about that.”
Casey placed her hand on her stomach, which suddenly felt hollow. “I don’t want to go to church.”
“Okay.” Death lifted the paper. “Don’t know what you’re going to do, though. Play games on your phone? A little Mario? Some FIFA?”
“I don’t—”
“What was that?”
Casey listened. A tone sounded.
“It’s the doorbell,” Death said. “I guess you’d better answer it.”
Just as Casey didn’t want to go to church, she also didn’t want to answer the door in someone else’s house. But Death wouldn’t let her hear the end of it if she showed fear of a simple doorbell. Death also wouldn’t accompany her upstairs, and that wasn’t doing anything to discourage her hesitation.
She leaned over the kitchen sink to peek through the window, but couldn’t see the steps from that angle. She could see a man on the sidewalk, however. An old man, with suspenders. Ah. No wonder Death wouldn’t join her.
Casey opened the door. “Nell?”
The girl let out a whoosh of air, and her face relaxed. She glanced behind Casey, as if afraid of who else might show up. She wore a denim dress this time, with the same pink cowgirl boots. The charm necklace hung around her neck, and her white hair was freshly washed, still a bit damp.
Nell’s grandpa stood out by the street, one hand holding a Bible, the other with a thumb hooked on a belt loop. Casey didn’t know if he was letting Nell have her moment, or if he didn’t want to get too close to the house.
“What’s up?” Casey asked.
“Grandpa said we could invite you to church. I mean, if you want to go. Do you want to go?”
Casey couldn’t tell the girl how she really felt about going to church, so she tried to get out of it another way. “Which one do you attend? Because I told Vern and Dottie I’d go with them.” If Nell went to the brick church, Casey was free.
“The white one on the corner.”
So much for that.
“Actually, I was getting ready to go.” Casey tried not to sound disappointed. “If you’ll give me a minute…”
“What about Mr. And Mrs. Daily?”
“I’m meeting them there.”
Nell’s eyes lit up. “We’ll wait for you.”
Casey ran back down to her room to grab her phone. Death now had a cup of coffee in addition to the newspaper. A hint of hazelnut wafted past Casey’s nose.
“Thanks for the heads-up.”
Death took a sip. “Didn’t know you needed one to talk with a nine-year-old girl. You’re turning into quite the Nervous Nellie.” Death chuckled. “See what I did there? Nellie? Nell?”
“Yes. You’re quite the wordsmith.”
“Go on, then. I’ll see you after church.” Death gave Casey a parental look over the reading glasses. “Don’t forget to talk to God while you’re there.”
Casey stepped to go out the fire escape before realizing Nell and her grandpa might find it a bit odd. Well, her grandpa would, at least. She went upstairs and met Nell on the stoop, like a normal person.
Nell grabbed her wrist. “Come on.”
When they got to the sidewalk, Nell’s grandpa held out his hand. “Name’s Bill.”
Casey shook his hand and introduced herself. “Nice to meet you.”
“Let’s go!” Nell said.
Her grandpa chuckled. “We’re coming, Nellie.”
The three of them headed toward the church, Nell skipping in front. Casey was left with her grandpa, and no clue what to say. She could imagine Death’s frustration with her lack of social graces.
“So, Nell says you’re on a walkabout.” Nell’s grandpa stepped into the breach.
Casey laughed. “Did she get that term from one of her books?”
“Walkabout?” He smiled. “No, that’s all me. Spent some time in Australia back in my younger years. Peace Corps.”
They walked on in silence, which wasn’t quite so tense now he’d broken it. But something felt off. Not with him, though. Or with Nell. Casey glanced behind her, but the sidewalk was empty. Cars lined the street, some with passengers, some empty. Nothing moved outside of the vehicles, except for leaves rattling in the breeze.
“Everything okay?” Bill asked.
“I’m not sure.”
He stopped. “What is it?”
“I don’t know. I felt like somebody was watching.”
“You saw someone?”
“No, I—” How to explain? She couldn’t, not really.
They waited a few seconds, but no one appeared suspicious. People got out of their cars, hustling to make the service on time, some worried, some debating whose fault it was they were late, some acting like it was the weekly routine.
“I’m probably imagining things.” But she doubted it.
Nell was way ahead, jumping from side to side over a crack in the sidewalk. When they reached her, she pointed at the ground. “You have to step over it.”
Casey did. “Anything else?”
“No. That’s it.” Nell skipped ahead again.
Casey laughed, and they continued walking. “So, did you grow up here?”
“Born and raised. Except for that time with the Aussies I’ve been here, or close by, my whole life. Worked in Boise at an engineering firm, but the wife and I didn’t like the city for living. We brought our kids here, where we’d both grown up. Had to flip a coin to decide which church to attend, since she went to one, and I went to the other.”
“And who won the coin toss?”
“We ended up at her church. Which means we both won.” He grinned. “My whole family was there. Still is, although I’m on the older end of it now. Her family’s not as big as mine, so her church had a little more variet
y.”
Casey didn’t understand what it meant to be surrounded by family. She never had much contact with cousins or aunts and uncles, since her extended clan lived in another state altogether. Her grandparents would visit, or she and her family would travel to see them, but her parents had met on a mission trip to Haiti, and decided to split the difference between their families and settle on Colorado when they married. Casey wasn’t sure if they regretted that, but it was the way things were.
“So, if you’ve been here most of your life, you must know Vern and Dottie pretty well. ”
He didn’t answer for a few seconds. When he did, his voice sounded strained. “Vern, yes. Dottie, not so much.”
“Why is that? Hasn’t she lived here for fifty years?”
“She has, but…she came from a very different place, and her marriage to Vern was quite sudden. She never quite fit in.”
Was that her fault? Or had the town closed ranks?
“You’re thinking we mustn’t have been very hospitable. That could be part of it, but some of us tried.”
“She wasn’t receptive?”
He frowned. “It’s hard to know. Vern, I’ve always gotten along with. We played football together back in the day. The women would have been the ones trying with his wife, after he brought her here. My own wife would have been the one to ask, not me.”
“Nell says she’s no longer living?”
He nodded.
Casey sensed his reluctance to talk about it, and was spared coming up with more to say, since they’d reached the church. They were the last people to arrive, if the cars parked along the curb and the empty front steps were any indication. Even the people she’d seen down the street were inside.
“There you are!” Vern waited in the foyer. His eyes flicked to Bill, but he smiled at Nell. “Good morning.”
“Hi.” Her eyes were wide as she looked behind him.