by Judy Clemens
“Thank you.” Casey slipped back through the drapes and knelt beside Vern. “Talk to her. While you still can.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Sure you do. Tell her you love her. That you’ll miss her. That it’s okay for her to go.”
A tear rolled down his cheek and off his chin. “But it’s not okay. I don’t want her to leave me.”
“She doesn’t want to leave you, either. But you can’t keep her here. Not anymore.”
Not now that Death was literally waiting by her bedside.
Vern dropped his face into his hands. Casey rested her hand on his shoulder, which shook with sobs. He cried for a minute or two before wiping his face and scooting his chair closer to the bed. He took Dottie’s right hand in both of his and was about to speak when the curtain swished open.
The crabby cappuccino woman from the store swept into the room. “Oh, no.” Anger lit her eyes. “She doesn’t get to die before telling me everything I want to know.”
Chapter Thirty-three
Casey blocked the woman’s path. “What do you want?”
“What do I want, Vern? Huh?” Her eyes narrowed. “What I want is what I always wanted, but Dottie wouldn’t give me. I want my mother back.”
Casey stared at her. “Your mother?”
“Yes.” Realization hit her eyes. “Vern didn’t tell you? How he and his lovely wife kept the secret that would give me what I’ve been missing?”
“Oh.” Death stepped close to the woman, studying her face. “I hadn’t seen enough photos to notice the resemblance.”
Casey felt like she’d been hit in the stomach. The crabby woman’s demeanor over the past few days suddenly made sense. “You’re Marianne Rush’s daughter?”
The woman’s eyes cut to her. “At least you know who she was. They told you that much. Did they also tell you where she went? Who she’s with? That they didn’t think we should know? Her own family.”
Casey glanced at Vern. It was a conundrum. Why wouldn’t the Dailys tell what they knew? Especially after all these years, with the whole town blaming them for Marianne’s indiscretion? But that led to another question.
“Why would you even want to find her? She left you without ever getting in touch again.”
Casey thought for a moment the woman’s anger might turn to tears. “What business is it of yours? You’ve been here what? Three days? You don’t even know my name, do you?”
The woman was right. She didn’t. None of this was any of Casey’s business, except here she was in the hospital room of a dying woman, with the woman’s husband clutching her wrist like she was his only lifeline.
“I’m sorry. I’m Casey—”
“I know your name. Everybody in town knows it.”
“What? Why?”
“Are you kidding me? First new person in ages, first person these two invite into their home? What makes you so special? No one can think of anything.”
“So, what is your name?” Casey said instead of bashing the woman through the curtain.
“Lisa. Lisa Rush. Yes, it’s my maiden name. Somehow the whole mother leaving me thing didn’t make for the best marriage. I’ve been divorced since Annie was little. It’s impossible to keep a relationship going when you know your own mother couldn’t. Especially when you don’t have any idea why she couldn’t. That’s why Dottie has to tell me what happened that night.”
Casey hadn’t asked for a life history. Just the woman’s name.
“Dottie’s not going to be able to tell you anything anymore. No matter how much you want her to.”
Lisa took a shuddering breath. “But Vern can.”
Casey looked at Vern’s profile as he gazed blankly toward the bed. “Maybe at some point. But not right now.”
“Why not?”
“Oh, my Holy One.” Death looked toward the ceiling. “She’s blinded by her hatred.”
Casey agreed. “You can see, Lisa. Dottie’s…dying.”
“No, she’s not. She can’t. Not yet.”
“The doctor said…” Casey stopped and indicated the opening in the curtain. “Let’s go into the hallway, at least.”
“I’m not leaving until—”
Casey shot out her hand and grabbed Lisa’s upper arm, digging her finger into the pressure point behind her elbow. Lisa gasped. Casey spun her around. “We’re going. Now.”
Propelling Lisa before her, Casey shoved through the parting of the drapes and dragged her captive down the hallway. She flung Lisa’s arm away from her, and the woman clutched it to her chest. “What is wrong with you?
“With me? Do you not see what is going on in there? Dottie is dying. Today. Right now.”
“But she can’t! Not without…not with—” Lisa’s eyes filled, and she turned away.
“What exactly do you think she knows?”
“Where my mother is. She’s the only one. Well, other than Vern, who won’t do anything that woman doesn’t want him to do.”
Casey believed it. Vern protected Dottie the best he could from the town. If it hadn’t been for their baby buried on the outskirts of town, Casey believed the Dailys would have been gone years ago. No matter the consequences of leaving the store.
“Why wait until today? Why not confront her years ago, when it could have made a difference? Your mom’s been gone for decades. Do you really want her around Annie after she deserted you so long ago?”
Lisa stabbed a finger toward Casey. “Leave my daughter out of this. This has nothing to do with her.”
“Wasn’t Marianne her grandmother?”
“She never knew her. I was only a kid when she left.”
Right. “So why now? Why not let it go? Let her go?”
Lisa stared at the wall, her jaw working. “You want to know? Really?” She thrust her hand into her purse and yanked out a piece of paper. A group photo. Of women at the Halloween party.
Casey gasped. “It was you! You sent that picture to Vern’s.”
“So what if I did?”
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why? Because it changes everything.”
Casey studied the photo. There was nothing she hadn’t seen before. But then, she didn’t know who most of the women were, let alone what might be different. “How does it change things?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Because I’ve been wondering what happened, too. The Halloween party, your mom leaving. That night still haunts this town. Isn’t it time people moved on?” It would be too late for Dottie to benefit, but Vern still had a chance, besides Lisa and Annie and Nell and everyone else affected. She waved her hand at the photo. “So what is it?”
Lisa lips trembled. “See this person? The one in the Richard Nixon mask?”
“Sure. No one knows who it is, except that it was maybe one of the people who tied them up.”
Lisa took a quick breath and blew it out. “See the shirt underneath the suit coat? Those broad stripes?”
“Yeah, sure.” Casey had noticed it the first time she saw the picture. Not many people were wearing that kind of shirt in the seventies.
“There was only one person in Armstrong who would wear that shirt. My dad.”
“But I thought the intruders were women.”
Lisa’s eyes rolled. “Are you stupid? Who else would have access to that shirt?”
“Wait? Are you saying…” She stared at Richard Nixon. “Is that—”
“Yes. The person who threatened all those women and killed Amelia Barrios? It was my mom.”
“But your mom wasn’t at the party. And neither was Dottie.” At least, that’s what she and Vern had proclaimed all these years.
“Apparently, she was. And so was the woman in that hospital bed.”
Casey dropped onto a bench. “But why would t
hey terrorize the other women that way?”
Lisa sat on the other end of the bench, tossing the photo onto the plastic cushion between them. “I wish I was able to ask.”
“You never did answer me. Why did you wait this long? Why not confront Dottie earlier?”
“Because I just found the photo.” Lisa sagged against the wall. “My dad died last month and I’ve been going through his things, getting the house ready to sell. I found a box in the basement that must have been my mom’s. Letters and diaries and pictures, stuck way in the back, where Dad would never go. It was like she was hiding it in plain sight. You know, the stuff you keep from your life before you get married, but you’re never quite sure what to do with.”
Casey knew. She had her own box sitting in her garage. Would she want to hide it from Eric? There wasn’t anything she wouldn’t want him to know—he knew the worst by now, anyway—but there were private things from Reuben. She didn’t really have anything from before him.
“My dad must never have looked in the box. Even if he would have found it, he’s not—he wasn’t sentimental. But I discovered it, and this picture was there.”
“And the letters? The diaries?”
“From when she was younger. Once she had me and my brother, she stopped writing. Didn’t have time, probably.”
“But no letters from a man?”
Lisa rolled her head to look at Casey. “Not one. And I searched the whole place once I found that photo.”
Casey leaned forward, elbows on her knees, and stared at the tile floor. Would Marianne have taken the letters with her? But why leave the photo, which could incriminate her? Why keep it in the first place?
“So you think one of the other perpetrators was Dottie?”
“Sure. The clown or the devil.”
There was no way of telling which, with the flowing costume of the devil, and the puffy one of the clown. No way to see their body shapes.
“I would guess the clown,” Lisa said. “Because she’s standing next to my mom.”
“But Vern said, everyone said, Dottie was at the store handing out candy. That she was supposed to meet your mom at the church, but when your mom called it off, she stayed home.”
“Vern would say whatever Dottie wanted him to say. Who’s going to argue?”
“Wouldn’t people remember she wasn’t actually at the store handing out candy?”
“Why would they? If it even crossed their minds, Dottie could say she was in the bathroom, or getting a refill of candy. It’s not like people were watching. They didn’t know they would need to.” She stretched her legs and crossed her ankles, looking at her sneakers. “Besides, the party was after trick-or-treating, because everybody wanted to be out with their kids.” Her face darkened. “Except for my mom. She said she wasn’t feeling well. Which obviously was a lie, whether she went to the party or left with some guy.”
“Casey.” Death’s voice floated across the air. “It’s time.”
Casey listened as the beeps on Dottie’s machine slowed to a steady tone. A nurse and the doctor swept into Dottie’s cubicle. Since she had a non-resuscitation directive, they wouldn’t be taking heroic efforts to bring her back, but were still reacting to the alarms.
“You going in there?” Lisa asked.
“I guess.” Casey winced. “Eventually.”
Lisa stood, grabbing the photo. “You probably should. You may be a complete stranger to everybody in Armstrong, including Vern, but as far as I know, you’re all he has. And no matter how much I hated Dottie, I can’t make myself hate Vern quite as much. He was being loyal to her, no matter how much it hurt the rest of us.” Her nostrils flared. “Dottie ruined everything by coming here, by marrying Vern, and stealing him from his old life. You’re going to be hard-pressed to find anybody other than him who will be sad she’s gone.”
Chapter Thirty-four
Lisa strode down the hall and pushed through the waiting room doors. Casey watched them swing, shocked at the vitriol she’d just heard.
“Excuse me.” The nurse stuck her head out of the curtains. “You’re here with Mr. Daily, right? He could use you.” Her voice was kind.
When Casey entered she could see immediately that Death was gone, as was the essence that made Dottie herself. Her body was there, but it was empty.
Vern sat, stunned, still clasping his wife’s hand.
The nurse edged close to Casey. “Is there a pastor to call?”
Of course. Casey should have called him before, but it didn’t even cross her mind. Thinking back, it might have been good for him to be there, instead of her, but how would he have known? Which made her wonder…how did Lisa know to find them there? Casey definitely hadn’t called her.
The ambulance, maybe. Everybody in town would have heard the sirens. Most likely there were the usual suspects listening to the police scanner. Did one of them call Lisa, knowing she would be interested? Or had she figured it out herself?
No. Of course. Gracie Achabal, Nell’s mother. She knew Dottie was there. If she and Lisa were friends, or even acquaintances, and Lisa had shared the Halloween photo with her, she would know how much Lisa wanted answers before Dottie died. She would want answers herself, seeing how her mother had died at the party. The two women had grown up in the same town, with the same tragic Halloween in their pasts. It would make sense if they shared new details.
“Miss?” The nurse was still waiting.
“Oh. Sorry. Yes. The pastor at…” Oh, what was that church called? “The white one on the corner. In Armstrong.”
The nurse shook her head.
“I’ll figure it out.”
The nurse and doctor left to give Vern a few minutes, and Casey pulled out her phone to Google Armstrong’s churches, figuring this was a time the “no cell phone use” signs could be ignored. Once she figured out which church was Vern’s she stepped out of the cubicle and called the number. She listened to the message, which gave the pastor’s number for emergencies. She woke him up, and he said he would be over as soon as he could.
Back in the room Casey studied Vern. Had he really chosen Dottie over the townspeople all these years? Or, as he claimed, was there nothing to tell? He said Marianne contacted Dottie once after that night to let her know all was well, but that there was no return address. There would have at least been a postal mark, right? To say what region the letter was mailed from?
Casey waited in silence for the pastor to arrive. Vern stared at his wife’s body, not speaking. Not moving. Not even crying anymore.
After a while the curtain parted. Casey recognized the pastor from Sunday morning. She stood. “Thank you for coming.”
“Of course. You are?”
“Casey. I’ve been staying with Vern and Dottie the past few days.”
“I believe I saw you sitting with them in church. And with Nell and Bill, which was a nice change.” He smiled gently. “Will you be staying?”
“No, I’ll head back and see about the store. Can you give him a ride when he needs it?”
“Sure. At some point we’ll need to make funeral arrangements.”
Casey held up her hands. “I’ve been here three days. That wouldn’t be any of my business.”
“But—”
“Thank you for coming.” She placed a hand on Vern’s shoulder. “I’m heading back. Pastor…” Dang it, she couldn’t remember his name. “Your pastor is here. He’ll take you home when you’re ready.”
Vern didn’t respond, but she hoped he’d heard her. If not, the pastor, whatever his name was, could relay the message.
The drive back to Armstrong was a blur as Casey mulled over the night. Lisa Rush, Marianne’s daughter, blamed Dottie for her mother’s disappearance, or at least for keeping her whereabouts a secret. But why would Dottie do that? What would she have to gain if Marianne left town, never to be heard from again
? She’d lost her best—only?—friend, and gained the suspicion and disdain of everyone in Armstrong.
If, as Lisa suspected, her mother and Dottie attended the party and subjected the women to an evening of terror, why would Marianne take off and leave Dottie holding the bag? Although she really didn’t, seeing how no one ever officially accused her. Did Dottie know something she hadn’t told anyone? Was she really a part of that horrible night? She claimed to be ignorant of Marianne’s whereabouts, and to be far from that party the night it all went down.
“You know what you have to do.”
Casey jumped at Death’s sudden appearance in the passenger seat, wearing the traditional Grim Reaper outfit, with the hood thrown back. Casey was thankful a head and face were along for the ride.
“Why are you back already?”
“Doesn’t take long when they’re ready.”
“She was?”
“Yes. I know Vern said a few weeks, but she knew her time was up. Although…”
“Although what? Did she tell you something? Did someone kill her?”
“My, we are impatient.”
Casey slammed a fist through Death, hitting the passenger seat. “Tell me!”
Death’s body morphed, and reshaped. “Goodness, you are in a mood.”
“I just spent hours in the hospital, where someone died. It’s also the middle of the night and I haven’t had more than an hour of sleep. What do you expect?”
“Knowing you, I should expect exactly this.” Death held up a hand, stopping Casey from throwing another punch. “She said she’s uncertain what happened.”
“Oh, my gosh, are you serious? How can she not know?”
“Watch the road. Do you realize you almost sent a raccoon to its maker?”
“What did she say?”
“I guess you don’t respect wildlife—Hey!”
Casey banged the seat again and again, turning Death into amorphous mist. When a shape returned, it was as Jessica Tandy, from Driving Miss Daisy. “Go ahead. Hit me now.”
Casey cocked her arm.
“Fine!” Death’s arms came up in an X for protection. “She wasn’t sure, but she thought there was someone in her bedroom.”