Flowers for Her Grave

Chapter Eighteen

Casey got through her next client and class with nothing more out of the ordinary than one of the women passing out during cool down. Turned out she’d been awakened by the emergency vehicles two nights earlier and hadn’t been able to sleep well since. Once Casey got her sitting up against the wall, the woman also admitted to not eating anything but cabbage for the past five days, because she needed to lose five pounds by Thursday in order to win a bet with her sister, who lived in Arizona.

Incredible.

Two of the woman’s friends promised to get her back to her room and feed her, so Casey let them go.

“No wonder she smelled bad,” Death said. “Like sauerkraut, gone bad.”

Casey trudged up the stairs to her apartment and crashed onto the sofa. “She’s not even fat, that’s the stupid thing.”

Death grunted. “Fat in the head, maybe.”

“Speaking of fat, I’m still not hungry after that feast last night.”

Death plugged both ears. “Not listening. La, la, la.”

Casey forced herself up and into the kitchen, where she made herself a salad. She might not be hungry, but she didn’t want to end up on the floor like that dumb woman. She’d just taken a first bite when there was a knock on the door. She sighed heavily and closed her eyes.

“No rest for the suspicious,” Death said cheerfully.

Casey looked out the peephole, and was surprised to see Maria standing there. She opened the door.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” Maria said, “but Sissy said you were looking for a key to the desk in the office.”

“No problem. Come on in.” Casey wiped her mouth with a napkin, and made sure she didn’t have anything on her hands.

Maria hesitated. “I’m interrupting your lunch.”

“It’s all right. I’m not really all that hungry.”

“I know what you mean. Ever since…well, you know, I haven’t been able to eat much.”

“So, about the key?”

“Yes, I’m sorry, but we don’t seem to have it. Mrs. Williams says you looked all over the office?”

“Yup. Not there.”

“And you haven’t been able to find it here?”

“In the apartment? No, but then, I hadn’t looked. Has anyone?”

Maria’s eyes darted around the apartment. “We had the apartment cleaned. And if anyone on staff needed the key and thought it might be here, this apartment has been vacant for a couple of weeks for them to search it. No one’s said anything about finding it. I could help you look, if you would like me to.”

“No, that’s all right. I’m sure it’ll show up somewhere.”

“If you’re certain.”

“Thanks.”

“Okay. I’ll see you later, then.” Maria took one more quick look around the room, and left.

As soon as the door was shut, Death jumped up and down. “Oh, she was so itching to turn this place upside down.”

“But as she said, she had two weeks to come up here and search. She mustn’t have found anything before.”

“But now you’ve brought it up again, and she’s worried. Which means she was most likely yet another of his women, and he has something on her. Maybe financial papers.” Death made a face. “This guy’s really starting to give me the creeps. I’m surprised I haven’t seen him yet. You’d think he’d have died of AIDS or a smackdown ages ago.”

Casey agreed. “You know, if Maria was that worried, she would’ve found a way to open the drawer without a key.”

“Someone did try, remember? And couldn’t get in that way. But if they’d busted the drawer, there would have been some explaining to do.”

“Right.” Casey looked around. “So where do we start?”

She yanked the cushions off the couch to reveal lint, a button, two quarters, and a pencil. She felt around the sides, but found nothing except dust and a few dried up mini Shredded Wheat squares. “Didn’t she say they cleaned this apartment? This is pretty disgusting.”

“Under here, too.” Death lay on the floor, peering underneath the couch. “Can you see anything?”

Casey tipped up the sofa to see underneath. “Nope. Nothing but dust bunnies, stale pretzels, and a rubber band. And there’s nothing taped to the bottom. Let’s check the chair.” Casey pulled off that cushion, too, but faced only the same sort of trash as in the sofa. The floor below was also clear of anything valuable. Casey put the cushion back and looked around the room. “Okay. Let’s think like an unethical, sleazy con man. Where would I hide something?”

“You do realize your salad’s going to wilt.”

“Let it.” Casey went next to the picture on the wall. Nothing behind it or on it, or in-between the picture and the matting. There was also nothing behind the blinds, in the lamp, under the table, or in the cabinets of the kitchen. The bathroom was clean, the bed was free of extras, and the vents, other than her own hiding place, were empty of everything but dust.

“Smoke alarm?” Death said, looking at the bedroom ceiling.

Casey pulled off the cover. And found a key.

Death squealed. “There it is! Let’s go!”

Casey glanced at the clock. “Can’t now. I’ve got BODYPUMP in two minutes.”

“Oh, these women, needing to be all fit and everything.” Death stomped the floor.

“It’s what got me this job, don’t forget. Without people to exercise, we wouldn’t be here. Which I guess would be a good thing.”

“So I can go back to complaining about the people?”

“No.”

“Fine. At least take the key with you, so you can check the drawer after class.”

Casey slid the key onto her key ring, stuck her salad in the fridge, and made her way downstairs to the aerobics room. “Do you think the person who was in my apartment last night was looking for the key?”

“Doubtful.” Death slid down the railing. “Those two weeks, remember? They had plenty of time to toss the place.”

“Which means they really were searching for dirt on me.”

“Afraid so.”

Casey found a full house when she arrived in the aerobics room. She didn’t really have a feel for this class yet. The group that had gathered two days earlier had been a much different demographic from the earlier classes, except for Sissy, who had come and given up halfway through. Today looked like the same bunch as before, mostly young women on their lunch breaks. Some of them were monsters, as if they’d been using weights for more than just a one-hour class three times a week. Casey’s heart lifted. Here were women who actually cared about fitness, and weren’t just there to put in the time and say they exercised. She liked it.

“So,” one of the women said, stepping in Casey’s path. “You the one who found Andrea?”

Casey gazed up at the tall, coffee-skinned woman, and her abs constricted the way they did when she was preparing to fight. It was the woman she’d seen several times before—in the weight room, across the lobby, staring up at her room from the pool. Up close the woman looked even bigger. Casey reminded herself that she was in a yuppie condo, and not a back alley. This was a Flamingo resident, not an opponent in the ring. She took a step back. “That’s right.”

The woman studied her, checking out her eyes, her physique, and the way her hands hung loose at her sides. “You’ve been hit recently.”

“I thought those scars were gone.”

“Nah, I can see it. I’ve had ’em myself.” The woman frowned. “But they’re not so recent as two days ago, when Andrea was attacked.” The woman nodded, as if she’d made a decision. “My name’s Tamille Jackson.”

“Hello, Tamille. It’s time for class. Are you ready to—”

Tamille slapped at the side of Casey’s head, her hand open. “My point.” Tamille smiled with one half of her mouth, and came at Casey with her left hand, not giving Casey time to recover from her shock. Casey blocked it easily.

“No points,” Tamille said, not taking her eyes from Casey’s. She jerked her head at the women surrounding them. “Clear out, ladies.”

They backed away so quickly it was like they were pushed out by force.

“Oh, goody,” Death said, clapping. “This should be fun.”

“What is this?” Casey said. “I don’t want to—”

Tamille threw a punch at Casey’s mid-section, and Casey blocked it with an upturned forearm. Tamille’s hand was a mere inch from Casey’s chest. Close enough to scare, but not close enough to do any damage. She was pulling her punches, which meant two things: one—she wasn’t trying to hurt Casey, and two—she knew what she was doing. Casey pushed Tamille’s fist away and stepped back, studying her opponent. Taller than Casey. Smiling. Bouncing on the balls of her feet. She was coming at Casey with a full frontal attack, which meant she was trained in a different manner from Casey. An offensive fighting style, as opposed to Casey’s hapkido, which was mainly a defensive art. Probably a form of karate, one of the most popular martial arts for Americans. The art which had people breaking through layers of bricks or boards. Or people’s heads.

Tamille took a step forward, throwing a one-two punch toward Casey’s face, right arm, then left. Casey blocked both hits and circled around, snapping her right foot at Tamille’s stomach. Tamille spun away, then responded immediately, sending a left-handed roundhouse toward the side of Casey’s head.

Casey ducked, then swung her left foot at Tamille’s ankle. Casey’s foot made contact and Tamille tripped, falling to one knee. She rebounded right back to standing. “Your point,” she said.

She came at Casey again, fists up. Casey stood her ground, took her weight on her right leg, and kicked toward Tamille’s right hip. Tamille swiveled away, and Casey used the opportunity to get in a quick second kick, just missing Tamille’s thigh.

Tamille’s face set in more serious lines, and she put her hands up again.

Casey stood back, waiting, hands loose, knees bent. The sounds of the room faded away, until all she could hear was her own breathing, and her heartbeat pulsing in her throat. Tamille’s eyes were probing and strong, and Casey’s could read the determination there. Tamille came suddenly pushing forward, right jab, left jab, right uppercut, left roundhouse. Casey dodged and weaved, throwing up blocks as necessary, taking backward steps. At Tamille’s final swing of the set, Casey ducked again and circled left, coming up with a left snap with her foot. She connected with Tamille’s stomach, and Tamille grunted. “Your point.”

Casey backed up again, gaining her balance, not taking her eyes from Tamille’s. It was a friendly match, at least as friendly as sparring could be, but she could see in the other woman’s stance that she wasn’t going to give anything away.

Casey waited, wanting Tamille to make the next move. Tamille seemed to be waiting, too, but Casey wasn’t bothered. She could wait all day. Until Sissy came and told her to get her butt in gear, anyway.

Tamille didn’t want to wait, and came at Casey, punching right-left, and following up with a front kick. Casey backed up so quickly she bumped into one of the other women. She stumbled, and Tamille took advantage, jabbing Casey in the side.

“My point,” she said. “Back off, ladies, you’re cramping our style.”

Two points to two points.

Sparring matches went only to three.

Tamille backed off, that smile tickling her mouth. Casey went over her options. Tamille was too tall for Casey to hit effectively. She would block anything Casey threw at her. Casey had already gotten her with kicks twice, so Tamille would be expecting that again. And Tamille, with her arms and legs way longer than Casey’s, had the upper hand when it came to distance.

But one thing Casey had that Tamille didn’t? Grappling skills. Probably. Most karate fighters used their arms first, legs second, and never learned the art of grappling.

Hapkido fighters did.

Casey returned Tamille’s smile, and Tamille’s eyebrows rose a fraction.

Casey took a large step forward, put her weight on her left leg, and kicked toward Tamille’s right thigh. Tamille blocked it easily, but Casey followed with a right-footed kick toward Tamille’s left thigh, making Tamille block again. Casey circled around quickly and came at Tamille from behind. She grabbed Tamille’s left wrist, pulled it back straight, hooked Tamille’s ankle with her right foot, and drove her to the ground, knee on Tamille’s back, heel of her hand on Tamille’s outstretched elbow. Tamille struggled only minimally before tapping the floor.

Casey knelt over Tamille, chest heaving, sweat dripping from her face. She let go of Tamille’s arm and stood, still ready. Tamille rolled over, sat up, and held out a hand. “Okay. Your point.” Casey took her hand, aware it could be a trap, but Tamille just got up, squeezed Casey’s hand, and let go. She put her hands together and bowed, keeping her eyes on Casey. Casey returned the bow.

Tamille gave Casey that same half-smile, and rolled her shoulders. “Now I’m ready for class.”

One person in the class began clapping slowly. Soon all of the women were clapping and cheering, and smacking Tamille on the back.

None of them came close to Casey, except for one, who picked up the portable mic and held it out. Casey thanked her, and hooked the mouthpiece over her ear.

“What style?” Tamille said, following Casey to the front of the class.

“Hapkido. You’re karate?”

She nodded. “Shotokan.”

“You have a good teacher.”

“My dad started me out. He believed his little girl should be able to protect herself, so he decided to make sure. Now I have a teacher here in Raceda.”

“Your father did a thorough job.”

Tamille shrugged. “Nobody’s ever challenged me outside the ring, so I don’t know if it works in the real world.”

Casey looked her up and down. “One look at you and they run.”

Tamille smiled, a full-on one this time. “That’s my problem. It’s why I’m still single.”

Casey laughed and clapped her hands, focusing on the rest of the class. “Okay, ladies, time for you to stop observing and get to work.” She turned the music up loud and worked them hard, barking at them like a drill sergeant. These ladies could take it. They wanted it. They were here for serious, hard work.

Death sat this one out, alternately watching the women and scanning the titles on the spines of the CDs. By the time class was over, Death had gone off somewhere. Casey wasn’t complaining.

This class didn’t seem to have the same revulsion of the locker room as the earlier classes, and went right in to shower and change.

Tamille came up to Casey, sucking on her water bottle. “What’s your schedule this evening?”

“I work till four-thirty, then I’m off until eight.”

“Want to do dinner?”

“Sure. Where?”

“There’s a Japanese place just down the block. Kyoto’s. Meet me there at six?”

“Do I have to eat raw fish?”

Tamille laughed. “I can’t see anyone forcing you to.”

“Then I’ll be there.”

“Great. Now I gotta hustle back to work. See you later!”

Casey had to hustle, too, and went into the locker room so she could change into her swimsuit. The women from the class were talking and laughing, and one was even using the shower where Andrea had been found.

Short attention spans? Or an inherent toughness? Casey wasn’t sure. She ducked into her office and made sure both doors were locked.

“Try the key!” Death perched on the edge of the desk like a vulture, draping over the side.

Casey knelt beside the drawer and slid in the key. It turned. She opened the drawer.

“What is it?” Death leaned over so far Casey had to scoot to the side so she wouldn’t get chilled.

The drawer was empty.

“Oh, man,” Death said. “What a letdown.”

Casey tried to take the drawer out of the desk, but it wouldn’t come all the way out. She felt all around the sides, under the lip of the front, and up on the top. Her neck was just starting to complain about the awkward position when her fingernail snagged something in the very top, front corner.

She pulled it out.

Death groaned. “Another key?”

“Yeah, but look at it. This one belongs in a bank.”

“Ah. Safety deposit box.”

“I wondered why nobody had just forced this lock. Now we know they probably did, but couldn’t find anything. The only other place they could think of, if Brandon had left anything behind, would be in my apartment.”

“But they came up empty?”

“I guess. Because they don’t have this.”

Death clapped. “And we’re going to the bank later, right?”

“You got it. As soon as we can after class lets out this afternoon. But now I have to get to work.” So Casey slid yet another key onto her key ring, and headed for the pool.

Water aerobics was a different sort of class, comprised of women who never set foot in the regular aerobics room, except perhaps to use the lockers. They cheerfully talked amongst themselves, and followed Casey’s directions the best they could. When class was over some of them stayed to swim laps, while others hung out in the shallow end to talk. Casey climbed out of the pool and dried herself off as she walked toward the locker room.

“Daisy?” Laurie was sitting on a chair at the side of the room. Her hair was flat, and her skin blotchy. She clutched the edge of the chair like she would fall off, otherwise.

Casey stopped beside her. “Hey. You doing okay?”

“Not really. Do you have a minute to talk?”

“You can come with me to the locker room. I need to change and get ready for some personal training appointments in fifteen minutes.”

Laurie chewed her lip. “I don’t…is the locker room…did they clean it up?”

“Yes. The last class used it.”

She hugged herself. “I don’t think I can go in there yet.”

“Okay. Give me a few minutes, and you can meet me in the weight room while I wait for my next client. Will that be all right?”

Laurie nodded.

Casey changed as quickly as she could, and hustled to meet Laurie in the weight room. Laurie wasn’t there.

Rosa was back again, folding towels, and smiled at Casey.

“Ola,” Casey said. “Have you seen Laurie?”

Rosa shook her head, but Casey thought it was because she didn’t understand what Casey was asking.

“Laurie?” Casey held her hand up to about Laurie’s height, and Laurie’s hair length. “Teaches classes?”

Rosa shook her head again.

“Okay. Thanks.” Casey looked around at all of the stations in the room, and back out in the hallway. Maria was waiting at the elevator, a stack of papers in her arms.

“You seen Laurie?” Casey asked her.

Maria shook her head. “Not since this morning. I need to talk to her, actually. She’s been skipping her classes, and we need to get back on schedule.” The elevator came and she got on.

Casey walked around the corner, toward the aerobics room, but Laurie wasn’t there. She opened the door “Laurie?” But there was no answer. She knew Laurie wasn’t in the locker room, because besides Laurie’s aversion to it, Casey had just come from there. Laurie must have decided not to talk with her, after all, or else she was just late. Well, she was going to be too late, since it was time for Casey’s next appointment. She went back into the weight room.

“You Daisy?” A stick-like girl, mid-teens, stood beside her, one ear plugged with an earbud. She held the other earbud in her hand, with her iPod strapped to her upper arm.

“That’s me.”

“I’m only doing this because Grandma said I have to, and because…well, never mind.”

“Because your Grandma wanted you to see what all the fuss was about over here?”

The girl made a face. “It’s all dumb, anyway.”

“I agree. So are you down here visiting your grandma, or do you live here?”

The girl rolled her heavily outlined eyes. “Do you really care?”

No. Not really.

Casey got the girl going on the treadmill, and was able to convince her to work half-heartedly on the weight machines, having to pull out an earbud every so often to make sure the girl could hear what she was saying. When she finally delivered the girl to her final cardio, she shook her head and looked around for client number two. He was the exact opposite of the girl in every way—huge, talkative, and determined to do every exercise imaginable. Casey pulled him back to a realistic routine, all the while marveling that a guy with thighs that big could walk around without wearing holes in the legs of his pants.

When four-thirty came she dragged herself up to her apartment, where she drank a Gatorade in about three swallows and took a long, hot shower.

Afterward, Death was standing in the hallway, dressed in a kimono.

Casey took a deep breath. “What are you doing?”

“Coming to Kyoto’s. Does this make me look fat?”

“It makes you look stupid.”

“I’m getting into the spirit of—”

“You’re not invited.”

“Of course I am.”

“Tamille didn’t invite you.”

“Only because she couldn’t see me. If she could see me, she would definitely have asked me to dinner. That girl and I, we would be like this.” Death held up crossed fingers.

“Anyway, we’re going to the bank first. Don’t you think you’re a little…overdressed?” Casey went back to her bedroom, where she chose some dark jeans, a light blue shirt, and a pair of sandals she’d picked out at the store. For once, she let her hair fall to her shoulders, instead of putting it back. She was about to leave when she remembered her phone. No point in having one if she left it hidden in her apartment all the time. She reached under her mattress to get it, then keyed in Binns’ phone number from her business card. She texted simply, “Here’s my number.”

There. Now Binns could find her any time, day or night. Just what Casey liked.

Death blinked when Casey went out to the living room. “Wow, who are you? I mean, look at you. You combed your hair and everything.”

“Will you shut up?” Casey grabbed her purse, yanked open the door, and froze. A shadow fell across the hallway, elongated by the light coming through the window at the end of the hallway. The shadow of a man. And at the end of his arm, the shadow of his hand held something long and thin, that looked exactly like a knife.