Flowers for Her Grave

Chapter Twelve

Forty-five minutes later, close to six, Casey went downstairs, having used that time to sit at her little dining table and stare into space. Already a crowd had formed in the hallway by the aerobics door, stopped from entering by the crime scene tape. The hum of curiosity cut off as Casey approached.

“I’m sorry.” Casey felt like she’d been apologizing for the past six hours. “We won’t be having class this morning.”

“Why? What happened?” A chorus of voices assaulted her, and she winced at the volume.

“I’m afraid there was…” What should she say? Telling them Andrea had been assaulted could cause mass panic. But anything else would be a lie. “I’m afraid your classmate, Andrea Parker, died over the night.”

Several of the women gasped, and one immediately burst into tears. They peppered Casey with questions, but she held up her hand. “Andrea was in the locker room, so the police need to finish their investigation here before we can use it again.”

“But why were the police here?” someone asked. “Was she murdered?”

Casey took a deep breath through her nose and let it out in a slow exhale. “They don’t know what exactly happened yet. That’s why they need the room.”

“But—”

Casey held up her hand. “I don’t have anything else to tell you. I’m sorry.”

“What about Krystal?” someone said. “Where’s she?”

“The last I knew she was at the hospital. She’ll be back soon.”

“Was she hurt, too?”

“No. She went to be with Andrea.”

There was an uncomfortable silence.

“Too bad she didn’t die,” someone muttered, but when Casey tried to see who’d said it, there was no way to tell. All of the women looked everywhere but at Casey, making the entire group seem guilty.

“Well, she’s alive,” Casey said, her voice hard. “And I would think you’d want all of your classmates to stay that way. Now go back to your apartments, or wherever. We’ll be in touch when classes can start again.” She spun on her heel and marched away, back up the stairs to her own place. She slammed the door and stood in the middle of the room, unsure what to do with herself.

“Can’t blame them,” Death said from the sofa. “The woman does sort of suck all of the attention out of a room. You experienced it yourself, at the hospital.”

“But I didn’t wish her dead.”

“Not like you wish for yourself, anyway.”

Casey turned away and stomped to her bedroom, where she discarded her old shoes and dropped backward onto the bed, putting her arm over her eyes. “Good grief, it’s like high school all over again. Let’s all hate the pretty girl instead of focusing on our own screwed up lives.”

“Hmm,” Death said. “What if Andrea wasn’t the one who was supposed to die?”

Casey lifted up her arm. “What?”

“You just said it. Everybody hates Krystal, and they looked a lot alike. Andrea and Krystal, I mean. Same hair color, skin color, basic size. It was just the…well, you know…that was a bit different.” Death sketched an hourglass shape in the air.

“I thought it was Krystal lying there in the shower. It wasn’t until I moved her hair and saw Andrea’s face that I realized it wasn’t.”

“So even you think Krystal deserves killing more than Andrea.”

“I didn’t say that! I just thought if anyone would be attacked, it would be Krystal. Jealous women. Boyfriends. Who knows? How many people said things about her yesterday, and they hardly even know me? Sissy. Laurie. Even Del. Krystal was hard to ignore, and Andrea had that chummy feeling, rather than the…” She waved her hand.

“Sex goddess-y feeling?”

“Exactly.” Casey dropped her arm back over her face.

“You do realize you have personal training in less than an hour, right?”

Casey groaned. “I have to sleep.”

“Go ahead. I’ll wake you when it’s time.”

“You won’t let me oversleep?”

“I promise.”

Fifty minutes later, Casey felt a cold breeze on her face.

“Rise and shine,” Death said, grinning from an inch away.

Casey shut her eyes again. “A little space, please.”

“What, no thank you? No appreciation for getting you going?”

“Fine. Thank you. Did you make coffee?”

“You know I can’t do that.”

Casey eased herself up, her head fuzzy. “I don’t know if I’m going to make it.”

“Two sessions, then you can come up for another nap during the time you would be teaching aerobics.”

Casey chugged a Gatorade and put on her shoes. “If I faint, don’t think I’m dead and carry me away.”

“But I thought you wanted to come over.”

“I do. I just want to actually be dead when I do it.”

Casey grabbed her personal training schedule and stumbled down the steps to the weight room, where she purposely did not look to see if there was an obvious spot where the missing weight—the one that had killed Andrea—should be resting. She couldn’t keep her eyes from the entire area, however, and the first person she saw was the tall, dark woman from the lobby and pool. She lay on a bench, pumping a massive amount of iron. Sweat rolled from her face, and muscles bulged in her shoulders and arms. Casey caught her eye in the mirror and was about to walk over when a young man stepped in front of her.

“Dylan,” he said, tossing a towel over his shoulder. He appeared to be in his early twenties, and couldn’t hide the smirk from his face. “You’re the trainer?”

“That’s me. Daisy. I know I look like hell, but I had a bad night.”

He went suddenly serious. “I heard. You found Andrea?”

“Yes. Did you know her?”

“Sure. Know her friend better, though.”

Casey wanted to smack the smug look from his face, but figured that probably wasn’t the best way to start their training. “Come on. Let’s begin at the cardio equipment. How about you hop on the treadmill?”

“I like the elliptical better.”

“We’ll get to that later. You can tell me about your present routine while you’re warming up.”

With no further argument, he stepped onto the machine and began walking. Casey took another look toward the free weights. The woman was gone. Disappointed, Casey turned her attention back to Dylan, and they got lost in the talk of goals and repetitions and exercises. After five minutes of warm-up, she led him to the free weights. It took only a little time for her to assess his fitness and make some changes to his routine. In-between sets she tried to sound casual as she asked him questions.

“So, how long did you know Andrea?”

He swiped his towel over his head. “I don’t know. Six months or so. That’s when I moved here. But like I said, I didn’t really know her all that well. Just from hanging around Krystal.” He got back on the bench and Casey stood over him, her hands out to spot the weights, should he falter doing his presses.

“What do you know about her? Boyfriends? Family? Anything?”

Dylan grunted as he lifted the bar. “She’s from the west coast somewhere. Washington, maybe?”

“I think Sissy said Oregon.”

“Yeah. That sounds right.” He pushed the bar up again, veins popping out on his neck.

“Ever see her hang out with anybody?”

“Just Krystal. No regular guys. You know, Krystal’s really the one to ask about Andrea.”

Except right now she hated Casey’s guts. “You still dating Krystal?”

Dylan let out a laugh as he strained to lift the bar upward. “You don’t date Krystal.”

“What do you mean?”

“You have the privilege of going out with her when she says yes. If she likes what happens, you might get to do it again. But you have to expect she’ll be doing it with other guys in-between.”

“Doing what, exactly? Sex?”

He grimaced, and set the bar on the stand. He swung his legs so he was sitting on the bench, and ran his towel around his neck. “Could be. But it could also be that you’re spending way too much money buying her jewelry. Or taking her rock climbing. Or doing whatever else she’s convinced you to do.”

“She’s got power,” Casey said.

Dylan gestured to the heavy weights he’d just used. “You think these are hard work? Nothing compared to Krystal.” He shrugged, stretching his back. “But she’s worth it.”

The door opened and an older man came into the room. He scanned the area, and caught Casey’s eye. She held up a finger to say she’d be right with him. “Okay, Dylan, cardio of your choice.”

“Elliptical,” they said together.

“At least twenty minutes.”

“I usually go thirty.”

“Good. Check in with me before you head out, okay?”

He held up a fist, and she studied it for a second before bumping it with her own.

“You’re okay,” Dylan said.

“Gee, thanks.”

He grinned, and headed toward his machine.

Casey watched him go, shook her head, and went to meet her next client.

“From the cradle to the grave,” Death said.

She gave Death a startled glance. Death wore a weight belt, gloves, shorts, and a muscle shirt, along with a nice pair of Chuck Taylors. “What are you talking about?”

“Dylan. He’s a mere babe, and your next guy, not so much.”

Death was right. Her next client was eighty-two, and rather than talk about Andrea—and certainly not Krystal, for fear of a heart attack—Casey spent all of her energy trying to keep him from doing more than he should. She felt a surge of sympathy toward Richie, the fitness instructor two before her. If he hadn’t stayed firm with people like her present client, it was no wonder people were getting injured. By the time her guy was on the recumbent bike Casey thought she was going to collapse from the strain.

“I’m outta here.” Dylan stood beside her, sweaty and so very young. “You know, you don’t look so good.”

Casey raised her eyebrows. “In what way?”

“In a way like you might keel over. Need help getting up to your room?” He grinned and waggled his eyebrows.

Casey laughed. “I think I can make it. Thanks.”

“Another time, then.”

“Oh, will there be a time I’m not old enough to be your mother?”

“You’re not.”

“Baby-sitter, then.”

He studied her. “I guess you are. But who cares these days? Anyway, it’s all over Cougarville in the Flamingo.”

“Really? You have older women after you?”

“All the time, baby. And let me tell you, older women—as long as they’re not too old—can teach a boy like me a few tricks.”

Casey shook her head, trying not to laugh again. “You’re awful.”

“But sexy.”

“Get out of here.”

He dodged the towel she threw at him, then picked it up and tossed it back. “See you in a couple days, hottie.” He sauntered away, chuckling.

“Now that boy needs a real woman.” Death stared after Dylan.

“Well, it’s not going to be me.”

“No, you’d rather have that pretty Officer Gomez who brought us back last night.”

Casey went hot. “I’d rather have nobody.”

“Oh, come on. Reuben might be dead, but like it or not, you’re still here, with all your female parts working. I thought Eric taught you that a couple weeks ago. I seem to remember some sweating, and some clothes coming off.”

Casey hastily threw her towel in the laundry bin and said hello to the woman who stood beside the shelves of clean linen, folding and stacking. What was her name? Rosa? Rosa’s nose was red, and her eyes bloodshot. Casey stopped. She didn’t know enough Spanish to have a meaningful conversation, but she hated to just walk by a grieving woman.

“Andrea?” she said quietly.

Rosa let go with a sob, and pressed her hand over her mouth.

“I’m sorry,” Casey said. “She was your friend? Amiga?”

Rosa nodded. “Yes. She was…nice lady.”

“Yes,” Casey said. “Si.” She patted Rosa’s arm, and continued into the hallway. The crime scene tape was still draped across the doorway of the aerobics room, although she could see no sign of activity inside. A couple of women in workout clothes lingered in the hallway, trying to see through the glass in the door, but Sissy was not among them.

“Is it true?” A middle-aged woman in clothes too tight for her extra padding grabbed Casey’s arm.

Casey extricated herself from the woman’s claws. “Depends what you heard.”

“That a crazy man broke in and attacked some women last night. That one of them died, and the rest are still in the hospital.” Her chin quivered, and the rest of the group pushed forward, waiting for Casey’s answer.

“One person was assaulted, and died. Andrea Parker. No one else was hurt, and no one else is in the hospital.”

“But that friend of hers isn’t here. Krystal. And we haven’t seen Sissy. And you were at the hospital.”

The mixture of eagerness and curiosity on the woman’s face made Casey’s stomach turn. This woman wasn’t so much worried about safety as she was about landing a juicy scandal. “Krystal and Sissy are probably both still in bed. It was a late night. All of us were at the hospital, but just because of Andrea. None of the rest of us were with her when it happened.”

She said all that as fact, but she didn’t really know that, did she? Krystal had said she’d left Andrea alone, but what if she hadn’t? What if she was there when the person broke in? What if she’d had something to do with it?

Casey shook her head. That was just stupid. Krystal wouldn’t have hurt her friend. And the cameras would have caught two people on tape in the hallway if she’d been there, instead of just the one blurred image. Unless that one person was Krystal.

Casey wasn’t seeing it.

The women were asking her something else now, the gossipy woman’s fingernails again digging into Casey’s arm. Casey shrugged off the woman’s hand when she realized what they were asking.

“Of course I didn’t do it,” Casey said. “And the cops know that.”

“But how do they know?” the fat woman said, her chins flapping. “They don’t know everything. You could be working for…for the mafia.”

“What? And Andrea was connected to them?”

“You never know anymore, with all these Cubans coming over, and illegal aliens, and communists—”

“Andrea wasn’t Cuban.”

“But she could’ve known some Cubans.”

“Everybody in this part of Florida knows Cubans.” Casey took a deep breath, praying she wouldn’t kill this woman without being aware of what she was doing in her sleep-deprived state. “I don’t know when classes will resume, ladies. We’ll be in touch, okay?”

“All classes are canceled for today.” Maria Mendez, the administrative assistant, strode toward the door with a sign. It said simply, “All classes canceled,” along with the date. “As soon as the police are finished with the room we can get back to our regular schedule. Probably tomorrow.”

“But I need my workout,” the pudgy woman said.

“So go run around the block. Or maybe walk. You’ve got legs.”

Casey was surprised at the tone of Maria’s voice, but the women responded to the sound of authority, and stopped asking questions. They sniffled and fidgeted, gradually moving away.

“You okay?” Casey asked Maria when the women were out of earshot.

“What do you think?” Maria’s eyes looked just the slightest bit wild, and her usually perfect hair was lopsided. “It was my key. My key was used to get to Andrea. How will I ever be okay?”

“If it hadn’t been yours, they would’ve found another. It’s not your fault.”

“Easy for you to say.” She hiccupped, then closed her eyes briefly. “I’m sorry. I know you found her. That wouldn’t have been easy at all.”

“No. It wasn’t.”

“And half the residents think you did it.”

“I know. Do you think so?”

Maria shrugged. “How do I know? You could be anybody. A killer. A thief. Or even a woman who was in the wrong place at a very wrong time. The cops say it wasn’t you.”

“Do you believe them?”

“When do I ever believe cops?”

With that, she turned and walked away.

When she was gone, Casey realized there was still one person left in the hallway. Laurie, the other fitness teacher, sat with her back against the wall, knees pulled up to her chest. Her face was white, and she stared at the carpet.

Casey squatted next to her. “Laurie?”

She took a shuddering breath. “So Andrea’s really dead.”

“Yes.”

Laurie’s mouth worked, and she turned her head to look back down the hallway. “Do they know who did it? Did she tell the cops?”

“No, she didn’t.” She’d used her last breaths to tell them Casey hadn’t done it. While Casey was grateful for that, she wished Andrea would have named her assailant. But perhaps she didn’t because she didn’t know who it was. Had she even seen the face of her killer? Or had she been surprised? Or was her brain too addled by that point to even remember what had happened? She’d told Casey she wasn’t able to run. Was that because she was in the confined area of the shower, or because she’d been hit so hard she was unable to move? When Casey had found her, she was lying face down on the tile. That would make sense if the person got her from behind.

Laurie gave a big shiver, and pressed her face against her knees.

“Laurie,” Casey said, “were you and Andrea close?”

Laurie gave a little sob. “No. I only knew her from classes. She was younger than me. She had her own friends. Her own life. So much ahead of her. It had nothing to do with me. None of it did.” She took another shuddering breath. “She didn’t deserve to die. Not like that.”

“Of course not. No one does.”

Laurie sniffed harshly, and slowly turned her head toward Casey, resting her cheek on her knees. A strange little smile fluttered on her lips, and her eyes looked almost manic for just a moment before she blinked and her eyes dimmed again. “No one does. That’s right. Of course.” She pushed herself up, leaning against the wall for support. “I’ll just…I’ll just go.”

“Let me help you.”

She flapped her hand at Casey. “No, no, I’m fine. I’ll be fine. You go on. You do…whatever you need to do.” She walked to the elevator and punched the button continually until the doors opened, and she got on.

“Now that was just creepy.” Death stood beside Casey in a light yellow uniform, complete with rubber gloves. An embroidered patch on the breast pocket said, Eternally Clean. For that Spotless Finish. The name under the logo read, Enma Daiou. “Did you see the way she turned her head and looked at you? It was like The Exorcist all over again, except she’s a lot older. And her head didn’t spin around.”

“It was weird, like she was trying to convince herself Andrea shouldn’t have died. Or at least that they weren’t friends. I’m thinking there’s more to their relationship than we know.”

“So Andrea’s death really didn’t have anything to do with Krystal, after all?”

Casey shrugged. “Andrea was a strong woman on her own. Krystal couldn’t have overshadowed everything. Could she?”

“But if what you’re saying is true, then Andrea had her own darker secrets. If Laurie wanted her dead.”

“She didn’t actually say that. She just protested a little too much that she and Andrea had nothing to do with each other. It could just be she’s sad she wasn’t better friends with her. Almost like she wished she had been. Or at least that she would have been young like her, and moving in her circles.”

“Which means we should find out exactly what went on—or didn’t go on—between them.”

“Right.” Casey sagged against the wall. “But right now I need another power nap. I’m going to my room.”

“And miss all the fun?”

“What fun?”

“As we speak, the cops are on their way to take another look.”

“Then I’ll let them do their job.”

“You don’t want to watch?”

“I’ve already seen it, L’Ankou. I don’t want to see it again.” In fact, the mere idea of going back into the locker room with Andrea’s blood still on the shower floor made her queasy. “You stay if you want. I’m going to bed.”

“Don’t forget to set your alarm. You have more personal training in an hour.”

“Yes, mother.”

The elevator clunked, signaling the arrival of the police.

Casey ducked into the service stairwell and trudged up to her apartment.