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Flowers for Her Grave Page 20


  “Yes. The police have already been through it.”

  “Then I suggest you put them there, and try talking to them tomorrow. They’re exhausted. They’re in shock. They need somewhere to…to just be quiet.”

  Sissy chewed on her lip. “Okay. Okay, we’ll do that.” She sidestepped to the door. “Maria!”

  Maria appeared in the opening, much to Casey’s surprise. She hadn’t seen her when she’d passed through there. Casey sent a questioning glance toward Death, who shrugged. “Maybe she was hiding? She’s apparently gotten good at that. Just like some other people I know. Fake names. Illegal ID. You know the drill.”

  “We’re going to put the Parkers in Andrea’s place,” Sissy said to Maria. “Can we get clean sheets on the bed?”

  “Of course. The cops took the old ones, but I’m sure there’s another set. Give me a couple minutes.”

  Sissy nodded and stepped back into the room, facing the Parkers. “We’re going to get you to bed now, okay?”

  No response. Sissy looked helplessly at Casey.

  “Go ahead,” Death said. “You’re good with damaged folks.”

  Casey ground her teeth, but knelt in front of the Parkers. She put a hand first on Mrs. Parker’s knee, and then on her husband’s. Casey waited until the warmth from her hand seeped through the fabric of their pants, and they realized something had changed. Slowly, with small jerks, their heads turned toward her.

  “We’re going to take you to Andrea’s apartment now,” Casey said. “You can get some sleep.”

  Without a word, Andrea’s mother stood, and looped her purse over her arm. She stood there, unmoving, watching Casey for further instructions. Casey turned to Mr. Parker, peering up into his face. “Time to move, Mr. Parker.”

  His eye twitched, and he pushed himself up, using the arms of the chair to get first into an upright sitting position, then finally into a standing one. Mrs. Parker clutched his right elbow, and Casey took his left.

  Casey and the Parkers followed Sissy to the elevator, where the Up button glowed. Casey left them there for a few moments while she ran back to the office to grab their bags. Everyone was silent as they went up. Maria met them at Andrea’s door, which had several signs taped onto it, saying, “We’ll miss you,” or bearing the image of an angel.

  A tissue-wrapped bouquet of flowers leaned against the doorjamb, and Maria scooped it up. “I’ve already brought in several of these. Most don’t even have names.”

  Casey seated the Parkers in the living room, Mrs. Parker on the couch, her husband on an easy chair. The room was fragrant with flowers, which decorated Andrea’s table and windowsills, and even the floor, a testament to how much she was appreciated at the Flamingo. There had been floral arrangements at Reuben and Omar’s funeral, too. The blooms had ended up back at Casey’s house, because there was nowhere else to go with them. The funeral home didn’t want them. The church had taken one for the front of the sanctuary the next Sunday morning, but they had no need of twenty. So Casey’s home was filled with flowers. So many Casey had thought she would faint from the overwhelming odor.

  She remembered another time, one of the many occasions she’d visited the place where the accident had happened, where Reuben and Omar had died in a ball of flaming gas. The scorched and muddied grass had healed, so Casey could see no sign of the horror that had happened there. A spray of wildflowers had grown up, small purple ones with pointy grayish-green foliage. She had wept at the sight of that beauty, spread over the spot where her own life had ended, along with her family’s.

  What would happen if she were to die? If she were here in Florida, so far from her home, with no one to even know her real name? Who would visit her? Who would come, bringing flowers to her grave?

  Sissy plucked Casey’s sleeve. She seemed at a loss for words, so Casey shook herself back to the present and squatted in front of the Parkers, who seemed to be aging right in front of her. “We’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Do you need help getting to bed?” She put her hand on Mrs. Parker’s arm, and the older woman jumped.

  “No, we’ll be fine. He’ll…he’ll help me.”

  Casey really didn’t want to say that her husband seemed worse off than she, but figured once they were alone, the two of them might be able to get themselves moving. She squeezed Mrs. Parker’s hand and stood.

  It wasn’t until Sissy and Maria were in the hallway and Casey was closing the door that Andrea’s mother looked up. “Excuse me?”

  Casey paused. “Yes, Mrs. Parker? Can I get you something?”

  “I was just wondering…do you know when he’s going to get here?”

  Casey glanced at Death, who shrugged.

  Maria looked uncertain, as well. “Who, Mrs. Parker?”

  “Why, him, of course. You know.” She looked back and forth between Casey and Maria. “Andrea’s fiancé.”

  Casey’s mouth dropped, and Death did a little dance. “Hee, hee, the plot thickens.”

  Sissy stood in the hallway, frozen. Casey leaned toward her and whispered, “Andrea was engaged?”

  Sissy shook her head. “I didn’t…I never heard anything about it before. And she…she…” She slumped, her face falling. “It’s all so horrible!”

  “Oh, boy,” Death said. “Here come the waterworks.”

  Sissy’s eyes filled and overflowed. She put her hands to her mouth. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” She gulped once, loudly, and rushed away.

  Casey watched her go. If Sissy was that upset, it could only mean one thing. Well two things. Either she was upset that she as the building manager hadn’t known this good news about a resident, or—more likely—she suspected that Andrea was engaged to a man Sissy thought was hers.

  This Brandon fellow had a lot to answer for these days—women were crying all over the place. He’d only been gone a couple of weeks and all hell was breaking loose. Assuming he was the one Andrea had been “engaged” to, she was dead, Laurie and Sissy were complete disasters, and who knew how many others there were, weeping into their pillows. She’d seen the one—Bernie—in her class today. And if there were that many, it only made sense there would be more. Casey wished she could have a few minutes alone with this Brandon person.

  She at least needed to see a picture of the guy, so she’d know what all the fuss was about.

  Casey stepped back into the room, brushing past Maria, who stood in the doorway, silent and frowning. Casey went to the Parkers. “Did you know her fiancé? What was his name?”

  Mr. Parker looked blankly at the floor, and Mrs. Parker lifted her hands slightly off of her knees. “We’d never met him, and she only talked about ‘him.’ She promised to bring him home at Christmas, but said things were a little tricky, so they were keeping it quiet until then. But she seemed so happy, until…” Her mouth twitched, and she looked at her hands.

  “Until what?”

  “Until just a couple weeks ago. She sounded tired, like she wasn’t sleeping. And she stopped talking about…about him.”

  Casey glanced at Maria, who had gone pale, as if she’d had a shock. She was no help at all. But Casey was remembering Binns’ words about Andrea’s phone. The unidentified phone number had stopped two weeks before. Right when Andrea stopped talking to her parents about ‘him.’ Right when Brandon left the Flamingo. “May I look around a little bit, to see if I can find his information?”

  Mrs. Parker waved weakly. “Whatever you want.”

  “I really don’t think we should snoop around.” Maria’s voice was firm, but Casey wasn’t about to let the opportunity pass her by. The police had obviously been through everything, but it was certainly possible they missed something.

  Casey made a quick sweep through the apartment. Andrea had only a few family photos—one in the living room, and a couple pinned to the refrigerator with magnets. There were no pictures that could possibly be of her and a fiancé. Casey went through the desk in the corner of the living room, in case Andrea had kept an address book, but if there had been one
, the police must have taken it. The same with any computer she might have owned. There were a few letters, but they all were from back home in Oregon, from her parents.

  Andrea liked a variety of magazines, which lay on the coffee table, from Cosmo to Newsweek to financial rags, all bought off the rack, and she had several novels stacked on the end table by the sofa, dog-eared and bookmarked with scraps of paper. The kitchen held only food and the things necessary to make and eat it, and the bathroom brought no surprises.

  Casey peeked out at the living room, but the Parkers hadn’t moved.

  “We really should go.” Maria had come further into the apartment now, and indicated the open door.

  Casey went into Andrea’s bedroom. The bed was all done up in clean sheets, and clothes were piled neatly in a laundry basket. The closet held clothes, too, as well as shoes and a suitcase. The trash can had been emptied—probably by the cops—and there was no journal on or in the bedside table. Casey felt between the mattress and the box springs, and looked under the bed.

  “Ms. Gray.” Maria stood in the doorway of the bedroom.

  “Yeah, I’m done.” Casey followed her out to the living room and perched on a chair beside Andrea’s mother. “I can’t find his information right now, Mrs. Parker. We’ll continue looking and see if we can find him for you, okay?”

  Mrs. Parker gave her a wobbly smile. “Thank you, dear. Thank you.”

  Casey and Maria said goodnight and stepped into the hall, closing the door.

  “So you didn’t know about this engagement?” Casey asked.

  Maria’s mouth compressed into a thin line. “Andrea never showed a public preference for any one man. She hung out with different men, you know, just like…” She waved her hands.

  “Like Krystal.”

  Casey started down the hall, but Maria seemed rooted to her spot. “I don’t mean I think she was like Krystal. She just gave the impression of being unattached. It’s impossible for anyone to keep track of all the residents. And it’s not like it’s my job to do that, or Sissy’s. The people who live here can have whatever life they choose, as long as it doesn’t disrupt other people’s lives.” She marched down the hallway, pushed the elevator button, and closed her eyes.

  Casey wanted to close her eyes, too. Already it had been a long day, and she still had two classes to teach. Maybe this teaching-for-fifteen-hours schedule wasn’t such a good idea, after all. Even women with tragic pasts and no real desire to live needed a break now and then.

  The elevator came and they got on, Death standing close to Maria and studying her. Casey punched the button for her floor, and Maria for the ground level.

  “She’s freaking about something,” Death said. “This whole thing about Andrea having a fiancé is big stuff. It’s driving her crazy.”

  Casey could see that Death was right. Maria’s hands were clenched into fists, and any hint of pinkness had been leached from her face.

  “Going home now?” Casey asked, hoping conversation might keep Maria from fainting.

  Maria whipped her head around. “I’m sorry?”

  “Home? You going there?”

  “Oh. Yes. Finally. I’ve been gone since six this morning. My kids are going to think I don’t live there anymore.”

  “Who watches them while you’re gone?”

  Guilt flitted across Maria’s face. “My mother, sometimes. Rosa. A friend.”

  “No dad, I take it,” Death said.

  “None of my business,” Casey said.

  Maria gave a little wave. “Oh, that’s all right. It’s a natural question.”

  Casey took a deep breath. She really was tired. The elevator stopped, and she got off. “Hope you can get some rest.”

  “Thanks. You, too.”

  “That woman will get no sleep tonight,” Death said when the elevator had gone. “She’s going to spend the night trying to figure out who Andrea was marrying. And wondering if it was that blackmailing Brandon.” They went into Casey’s apartment, and Death collapsed onto the sofa. “We’re finding lots of reasons why people would have wanted to kill Brandon. But he’s not the one who’s dead.”

  “If Andrea was engaged to him, she might have known a lot of his secrets. She could have known about Sissy’s last job, and Maria’s illegal status. And who knows what more secrets we’ll find in those files when we look at them.”

  “No time now, chica. You’ve got to be down in your class two minutes ago.”

  Casey rushed to change her clothes—again. She was going to have to do laundry every other day, if this schedule kept up.

  The kickboxing class was sparse that evening, missing all of the women Casey knew. Laurie, obviously, was in no shape for exercising, let alone being in public, and Sissy was down for the count, having run off crying. Krystal hadn’t been lurking, waiting to pounce, and Casey hoped she would stay away.

  Casey apologized to the class for being late, then put herself on autopilot through that session, as well as through abs, which had only two women in it. The pair skittered out as soon as Casey turned off the music.

  “Nine-thirty,” Death said, stretching. “The night is young.”

  “For you, maybe. For me it’s a crotchety old lady.”

  Death gasped. “Your twin!”

  “Oh, shut up. Besides, I want another look at these folders.”

  Death didn’t argue with that, and left Casey to find her own way upstairs.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  “So who all we got?” Death had been remarkably patient as Casey took yet another shower and pulled on Reuben’s T-shirt. Death wore flannel pajamas and bunny slippers. They sat together in the middle of Casey’s living room, her purse emptied.

  Casey set aside Sissy and Maria’s folders, and picked up the next one. “Looks like Bernie really did sign over most of her money. Or a lot of it, anyway. I don’t know how much she started with. Here are the accounts where Brandon stashed it.”

  Death whistled. “That’s a lotta dough, baby.”

  “And here are several other folders with the same kind of stuff. Our dear psycho Laurie is one of them. He got every penny. From what I see here, she’s living at the Flamingo out of the charity of Sissy’s heart.”

  “Doing classes for free?”

  “That would make sense. She’s paying her way by teaching, and Sissy might feel some sisterhood with her over the whole getting-screwed-by-Brandon thing. Although I’ve seen Sissy treat Laurie with more disdain than charity.” Casey shook her head. “Wherever Brandon is, assuming he can access these accounts, he is sitting more than pretty.”

  “Mexico,” Death said.

  “You think?”

  “How should I know? I’m guessing. And look here. A list of the older women who put him in their wills. I can’t imagine he’s really going to come around to collect, do you? I’m sure he preferred the straight cash exchange, but couldn’t quite bring himself to romance the over-eighties.”

  Casey picked up the next folder. “Ah, our lovely Krystal. Let’s see what we have on you.”

  “Nude photos?” Death asked hopefully.

  “Don’t see any, which isn’t surprising. It would be hard for Brandon to blackmail Krystal over sex, when she makes no secret about her lifestyle. In fact, she advertises it.” Casey remembered that first day, with Andrea telling Krystal to watch what she was saying, or people would think she was a slut, too.

  “So what is that?” Death pointed at the one photo in the folder. It was a five by seven school picture of a little girl. She was smiling with two missing upper teeth, and her shoulder length blonde hair had been tied back with a ribbon. “Is that Krystal as a child?”

  “I don’t think so.” Casey picked up the photo to reveal the single sheet underneath. A birth certificate. The name of the baby was Adrienne Noelle. The space for the birth father’s name was blank. The line for the birth mother read, Krystal Patterson.

  Even Death was speechless. For a moment. “Krystal is a mother?”
>
  “In the biological sense, maybe. I don’t see her mothering anyone around here. There aren’t any kids at the Flamingo.”

  “Think she’s hiding one?”

  “Not in this building. But if this is in Brandon’s secret blackmail stash, then yes, Krystal is definitely hiding that she has a daughter.”

  Death studied the picture. “I can see Krystal in her, now that I know.”

  “Yup. Those eyes. And the hair. Think you can track her down?”

  “You know I can’t. Not unless she’s dead, or maybe if I pick up an immediate family member. But she’s nowhere on my radar at this point.”

  Casey leaned back against the sofa. “Again, this all comes back to Brandon, not Andrea. We may be uncovering crime here, but not the crime we’re investigating.”

  “It’s like you said before. If Andrea was engaged to this guy, she knew his secrets.”

  “But he’s not here. If she was engaged to him, where is he?”

  “He’s only been gone a couple of weeks. It’s not like he’s been gone forever.”

  Casey went quiet.

  “Uh-oh,” Death said. “I know that look. You got an idea.”

  “Not one I like.”

  “Even better.”

  “You saw Andrea’s apartment, right? There was nothing personal there, other than family stuff. No other photos, no mail. The magazines were ones she’d picked up at the store—so no address labels. How long did Del say she’s been here? Six months?”

  “That was Dylan. And he said he’d known her six months, since he got here.”

  “Oh, I remember. Del said he’d asked her out soon after she’d moved in the beginning of the year. So January, maybe. Not sure that would work.”

  “What are you thinking? Spill.”

  “Well, what if she was in this with Brandon? She obviously hadn’t made her apartment a home. There was nothing there she couldn’t leave behind. Nothing of sentimental value—at least that I saw. She and Brandon could have been fleecing the gullible folks, always ready to take off. But I really can’t see it. I just didn’t get…criminal vibes from her.”