by Judy Clemens
At the first break, Casey had confronted the new lawyer, who stood alone, leaning against the stair railing in the foyer. How dare someone laugh in the face of her pain?
Death only smiled, leaning closer until Casey breathed in…and she knew.
In fact, she was ecstatic, holding out her arms to receive Death’s embrace. Only that’s not what Death had in mind. Ricky had come to her then, concern etched into his face as he stood in exactly the spot where Death had been a moment before. She’d searched wildly around the hallway, but Death had disappeared, leaving her too emotionally distraught to continue with the day’s proceedings. Neither team of lawyers had been happy about that.
“What?” Death said now, seeing Casey’s face. “What did I do?”
Casey shook her head, disgusted with herself, with Death, with everything. “Nothing. You did absolutely nothing.” She jumped off the bed and grabbed her jacket, heading out the door. “And you’ll continue to do nothing, you worthless piece of…of…dark matter.” She slammed the door on Death’s surprise, and went downstairs.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Casey headed directly out the front door, avoiding any conversation with either Rosemary or Lillian, and took off down the sidewalk. No bike this time. She needed to get back on her feet.
Her feet took her to the door of the bank, apparently with the idea of confronting Todd at his workplace.
It was closed.
She studied the lobby hours printed on the glass, seeing that they’d closed already at noon, this being a Saturday. Shoving down her frustration, she changed direction and strode down to the corner, entering Wayne’s Pharmacy.
Becca was behind the counter, wrapping what looked like a birthday present. A girl and her mother watched the process as Becca fashioned ribbons into a festive poof of curls. “Here you go, sweetie. Courtney will be very happy with her new tiger snake.”
The girl grinned, hugging the package to her chest, and left with her mother.
“Tiger Snake?” Casey asked. “For an eight-year-old?”
Becca laughed. “It’s a toy. You know, those stuffed animals you play with on-line?” At Casey’s blank expression, Becca waved away the subject. “You’re not here to talk about kiddie toys. What can I do for you?”
“Can you tell me how to find Todd?”
“Todd Nolan?”
“Are there other Todds?”
Becca swept ribbon cuttings from the counter into a trash can. “No. I just…he doesn’t exactly seem your type.”
“Becca, I’m not looking for a type. I’m looking for some answers.”
“About the play?”
“What? No. If I had those, I’d ask you or Eric. No, I have…banking questions.”
Becca regarded her with doubt. “Banking?”
“He is a banker.” It wasn’t a lie.
“True.”
“And the bank’s closed.”
“Yes, it would be.”
She slid her scissors into a drawer. “Okay. I’ll give you directions, but you’d better hope his daughter’s not there to see you.”
“Kristi?”
Becca blinked. “Yes. How did you know?”
“Met her at the diner.”
“Oh. Sure. Anyway, she’s not too keen on her dad right now, let alone women he might talk to.”
Casey looked around the store, but they were alone. “Ellen, right?”
Becca made a face. “I don’t know what it was about her. Eric, and Todd, too. At least Eric was free to do something about it.”
“I heard Todd was working at Home Sweet Home.”
Becca snorted. “If you want to call it working. From what I’ve heard he didn’t do a whole lot except get in Ellen’s way.”
“So it’s no wonder Kristi was unhappy. What about his wife?”
Becca shrugged. “Todd’s wife is…spacey, shall we say? I don’t think it would even occur to her to think about Todd being interested in someone else. It wouldn’t have occurred to most of us. He’s too lazy.” She gave a half smile.
“But Kristi?”
“She’s smart. And she could see exactly what was going on. In fact, she was the one who finally put a stop to the whole thing—whatever there was.”
“And that’s why he stopped helping at the soup kitchen?”
The door tinged, and Becca turned to welcome the customer, no one Casey recognized. She turned back to Casey. “From what I hear, Kristi gave him the whole get-it-together-or-I’m-telling-Mom speech. He quit that day. I don’t think he quite understood what he was getting himself into.”
Casey shook her head. “He can’t be dumb, if he’s a banker.”
“He’s not dumb. People just sometimes do dumb things.”
Casey shoved her hands in her pockets. Reuben hadn’t been dumb. In fact, he’d been one of the smartest men—the smartest people—she’d ever known. But everyone had secrets, and Reuben’s just happened to be bigger than most. An entire family, their lives sealed in a five-gallon bucket, kept from her because they wouldn’t accept his choice for his wife. She was an American. A white American. Who was far from Catholic.
They’d never met her. Hadn’t attended their wedding.
Had never met their grandson.
“So you still want directions?”
Casey snapped back to the present, to Becca’s question. “Yes. Please.”
With Becca’s easy-to-follow instructions, Casey left the store and turned toward the gas station, her first landmark.
Reuben’s family hadn’t come to the funeral. Casey wondered how long it had been before they even knew he was dead, along with his son. The items in his bucket were proof he’d been in touch with them. Had sent them pictures of Omar. Their letters had reflected their response. Their unwillingness to accept the gift of life from someone like Casey.
She passed the gas station, quiet now, only the front office open, the owner visible through the window. He looked up as she went past, sketching a wave. She raised her hand, then turned the corner, the opposite direction. A few more turns and she stood looking at a large two-story house, attractive, a two-car garage, one side open with a Suburban taking up the space.
No one was outside, so Casey went to the front door and rang the bell. When no one answered, she went back down the steps to the side entrance, beside the garage. She knocked.
Footsteps sounded inside, and Todd opened the door. He wore old jeans and a Grateful Dead T-shirt, and was decorated with dust and a spiderweb, which draped over his left shoulder. “Casey?”
“Hi. I was wondering…” What? If he would tell her about HomeMaker’s finances? Why exactly he was furious with Karl Willems? If he’d killed Ellen Schneider because she didn’t love him? “Could we talk for a few minutes?”
He glanced behind him, down what appeared to be the basement steps. “I’ll be back in a minute, hon.”
An affirmative response floated up the stairs, and he gestured for Casey to follow him to the kitchen, where he filled a glass with water. “Want some?”
“No. Thanks. Can we go outside?”
He studied her, then gestured to the door. He followed her out, looking around for a place to go, and decided on the bumper of the Suburban. They leaned against the SUV.
“So you didn’t get out of basement cleaning, after all?” Casey said.
He grunted. “No such luck.”
“Yeah, well, you’ll get good behavior points for it.”
He laughed, but stopped abruptly. “What do you mean by that?”
“Nothing. Just, I’m sure your wife is glad to have your help.”
He narrowed his eyes at her, and drained his glass. “What is it you wanted to talk about, Casey?”
She stood and faced him. “You don’t get along with Karl Willems.”
He raised his eyebrows. “And that’s news?”
“I guess not. Most people don’t get along with him.” She considered her words. “What I’m wondering is, is that dislike business o
r personal?”
He stood up. “Look, Casey, I don’t know why you want to know, or, really, who you even are, so I’m not sure why we’re talking about this.”
“I know. It’s very presumptuous of me. But it’s important.”
“To whom? You? I can’t see how. Unless Thomas is right and you really are more than you appear to be.”
She let out a short laugh. “So he told you that, too? What is he afraid of?”
“You, apparently.”
She shook her head. “Are you, too?”
“I wasn’t. Not until you came here, asking questions.”
“I’m sorry.” She was. “But it’s just…I think Ellen’s family deserves to know.”
He went white, and glanced toward his house. “There’s nothing to know. Nothing happened, and nothing was going to.”
Casey held up a hand. “I don’t mean about you. I mean about…why she died.”
He looked down at his glass, and then up again, his eyes pained. “She killed herself. Do we really need to know more?”
“You really believe that? That she…committed suicide?”
He closed his eyes. “It’s what they say, isn’t it? The cops?”
“Yes. But do you think they’re right? Other people think they’re wrong.”
His eyes opened. “Look, Casey, I don’t know why you’re here, or why you’re asking these questions. I liked Ellen.” He glanced at the house. “She was kind, and smart, and…and real. But as for killing herself?” He shrugged. “She was a single mom without any hope for a good job here in Clymer. She was going to have to leave, get help, or…or something. I don’t know exactly why she did it. And I wish like hell she hadn’t. But I don’t know anything to say she didn’t.”
Casey turned away from the pain on his face. She could feel it radiating from him, like heat. “Todd, I don’t think she did.”
He didn’t move.
“In fact, I don’t think you do, either. Nobody who knew her well believes it.”
He waved his glass toward the sky. “So what are we supposed to do? I’m not a cop. Or a doctor.”
“No. But you know things. Things that could tell her story.”
“I don’t know anything.” He looked down at her. “Like what?”
“Like why you went storming into Karl’s office two weeks ago. And why you came storming back out.”
“What?”
“People saw you, Todd. Was it…did he threaten you? About Ellen?”
“About…” His face wrinkled in confusion, then cleared. “Do you mean…no. No. He had nothing to threaten me with. Nothing.”
“Really?”
“Look. I don’t know how to prove it to you. But it wasn’t a personal visit.”
“But you know which one I’m talking about?”
He set his glass on the bumper and rubbed his face hard with the heels of his hands. “I don’t go over to HomeMaker. Hardly ever. If they—he—needs something, he comes to the bank. To my office. But that time…” He looked at her. “I went to him.”
“About what?”
“Casey, I can’t tell you that. I’ll get fired.”
He would. Of course.
She stuck her hands in her back pockets and looked up at his house. He needed his job. He had three daughters. Property. A wife. “It wasn’t personal?”
“No. I swear.”
She studied his face. His eyes, piercing hers. “Okay.”
“Todd?”
He jumped, looking toward the house. “Coming, honey.”
His wife stood in the doorway, a rag in her hand, her clothes just as dirty as Todd’s, although her spider web was draped across her hair.
Todd gestured to Casey. “She’s in the play. Had a couple of questions.”
“Oh.” His wife smiled. “The new girl?”
“That’s me,” Casey said. “The new girl.”
“Wonderful. Todd, when you’re done talking there’s some old insulation that needs to be changed beside the furnace.”
He sighed heavily. “Coming, dear.”
With a wave of her rag, she disappeared back into the house.
“Well,” Casey said, “Thanks.”
He huffed. “For nothing.”
She shrugged. “Not entirely. See you at rehearsal?”
“I’ll be there.”
She walked out the lane, wondering what she actually had learned that could be of any importance.
“Casey?”
She turned.
“You want to help Ellen? Really?”
“Yes. Really.”
He looked at the driveway, then back up at her. “The reason I was at HomeMaker?”
“Yes?”
“Let’s just say it wasn’t personal on my part. And Ellen had nothing—absolutely nothing—to do with it.” He turned, and disappeared into his house.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Casey was waiting at the back door of Home Sweet Home when Eric drove up.
He got out of his Camry. “Hey.”
“Hey.” She went to the car. “Got things to carry in?”
“Well, yes, but—”
She waited at the trunk until he opened it, holding out her arms for the bags of just-un-sellable vegetables and food staples. They took in the groceries and put them away, finding what space they could around the pizzas in the fridge.
“What is it?” Eric asked when they were done. “You learned something. I can see it.”
“I think the video might be a dead end.” She explained what Todd had told her.
“But maybe it did have to do with her,” he said. “Todd’s either lying or he doesn’t know.”
“Unless…”
“What?”
“Eric.” She made her voice gentle. “Have you remembered why you were there that day?”
He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. “You really think I did something to Ellen?”
“No, I don’t—”
“Because that’s just…” He flung his hands outward, and stalked away, keeping his back to her.
She followed him. “I don’t think that, Eric. Really. But what if something about your visit was important? You need to remember.”
“I know. I know.” He banged the flat of his hand against the wall, and leaned there, hanging his head.
“Can you at least tell me what Thomas thinks I’m doing here? Why he would threaten me, telling me to leave him alone?”
He turned his head to look at her. “Thomas? He did that?”
“He seems to think I’m a spy.”
He sighed heavily. “Lord knows what Thomas thinks about anything.”
“I think you know, too.”
He pushed himself off the wall, rounding on her. “What do I know?”
Casey readied herself for self-defense, all the while telling herself it was stupid to worry around Eric. “You have something on him, Eric. He knows it. You know it. What is it?” She could still picture that man, Taffy, telling Thomas he was being monitored. Should she mention it to Eric? Or would that just put Eric in danger, too?
“Thomas and I have known each other a long—”
“Stop. Just stop. You’ve given me that spiel before. So you’ve known each other forever. You grew up together. Your dads both moved here to work together. I get that. But what does that mean? You feel some sense of…what? Responsibility for him?”
“No, I don’t, it’s just…”
“What?”
“I think he wants out.”
“Out? Out of what? Theater? This town?”
He glanced at her. “This town, definitely, but that’s not what I meant.”
“Then what? It has something to do with money, doesn’t it? Large amounts of it?” She couldn’t imagine what else Taffy and Bone would want.
Eric let out a long sigh, and leaned back against the wall. “I can’t… It doesn’t have anything to do with Ellen, okay? Trust me on that.”
“Are you sure?”
; “Yes. If I thought it did, I would tell you.”
“Would you?”
“Yes.”
She watched him for a moment. Did he know enough that he could also be a target of those men? Whatever group was threatening Thomas? Would Taffy and Bone come after him?
“Eric, there’s something I think you should know—”
“I know everything I need to about Thomas and his problems.”
“But—”
“No. No more. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” He turned abruptly and walked through the door into the dining area.
Casey clenched her jaw. She hated thinking of Eric in any way other than positive, but how long had she actually known him? Three days? Four? And with them knowing nothing about what had really happened to Ellen, how did he really know Thomas’ problem wasn’t relevant?
She started after him, but the back door opened and Loretta entered, kissing her fingers and raising them to heaven. “Thank you, Jesus, for another day serving you. Hallelujah! Hello, baby girl.” This last was to Casey.
“Hello, Loretta.”
“Pizza again tonight, Praise God! ”
“Yes.”
The door smacked open, and Johnny filled the entryway. “Nice lady!”
Casey smiled. “Hello, Johnny.”
He hugged her with abandon, and lumbered off to his station to roll silverware. Casey followed.
“Johnny, Ellen worked here with you, didn’t she?”
He slid the silverware drawer out. “Oh, yes, ma’am, she was a nice lady.”
“I’m sure she was.” She watched as he carefully placed the knife, fork, and spoon on a napkin and rolled it all into a perfect oblong bundle. “Did she ever say anything to you about work?”
“Work?” His face crinkled in concentration. “About silverware?”
“No. No, I mean about HomeMaker.”
“Oh, that work.” He turned backed to his silverware, as if he didn’t care to reply.
“Praise the Lord,” Loretta said, “Ellen was going to make the need for this kitchen go away, thank you Jesus! ”
Casey went closer to her. “Did she tell you how?”
“Didn’t say much, did she now, poor angel of God, but she was confident in His power, yes she was. Praise the Lord! ”