Flowers for Her Grave

Chapter Twenty-two

The security guard was the same one as when Casey had returned from the hospital with Gomez two nights before. The young, good-looking one. He recognized her this time, and waved her in. Gomez was there, too, waiting in the lobby under one of the palm trees.

Casey’s heart leapt, and she reached out, as if to steady herself on Death’s arm.

“Steady there, girl. Just a handsome guy who looks like your dead husband. Cuban, though. Not Mexican.”

As if that made any difference in the way Casey’s body responded to him. It wasn’t like her feelings knew anything about nationality. Or even what would be helpful.

Jack, straightening up the tables in the bar, saw her before Gomez did. “Hey, Casey. You all right?”

She must have looked awful. Everyone kept asking her that.

“I’m fine. Just…I have to go talk with Andrea’s parents.”

“Sure. I saw them come in. Poor folks.”

Behind Jack, Casey could see Gomez taking notice of her and walking her way. She looked back at Jack’s kind face for strength. “You’ll be out here later?”

“Till twelve-thirty or so. Just like last night.”

Gomez reached them. “They’re waiting for you in Mrs. Williams’ office, Ms. Gray.” His forehead wrinkled. “You okay?”

“Just what I asked her,” Jack said. “You’ll take care of her?”

“Sure. I got her.”

“Hey,” Casey said. “I’m right here. And I’m fine. Where’s Binns?”

“She had to leave,” Gomez said. “Asked me to tell you she’ll call tomorrow.”

Great. “Thanks, Jack. See you later.”

“I’ll be here.”

Casey stepped away from Gomez and walked briskly toward Sissy’s office, not wanting to receive anything from the policeman, including his compassionate expression, the scent of his cologne, or even the movement of air around him. Just that brief interaction had made her feel all giddy, and that wasn’t what she needed heading into this conversation.

The light was on in Maria’s office, and Sissy’s door was open. Casey could see Sissy’s hands resting on her desk, and two sets of feet on the opposite side of the doorway—one in women’s low-heeled boots, and one in loafers. Casey shuddered.

“Deep breath,” Death said. “It’s just old people.”

“Old people who just lost their daughter,” Casey muttered.

“Excuse me?” Gomez leaned toward her.

Casey jerked away. “Nothing.”

“Ah, here she is.” Sissy got up and pulled Casey into the room. She wore the same maroon outfit she’d had on earlier, but her make-up had been freshly done, and her expression was all blank and businesslike. “Mr. and Mrs. Parker, this is Daisy Gray, our fitness instructor. She was friends with your daughter.”

Casey stared at her. Friends?

“I’m sure she’d be glad to tell you about Andrea and what she’d been doing here in Florida.”

Sissy gave Casey a bright smile, as fake as they come. Casey swiveled her eyes sideways to look at Death, who was perched on the back of Mr. Parker’s chair, watching Casey with raised eyebrows. The Parkers themselves weren’t really looking at anything. Mr. Parker had slouched so far down he seemed to be sinking into the chair, his eyes level with Sissy’s desktop. Mrs. Parker sat ramrod straight, her eyes aimed straight across the top of Sissy’s desk, even with the aerial photo of the complex. Neither one had acknowledged Casey’s arrival. She wondered if they were even really present in the room.

“Excuse me.” Officer Gomez stood in the doorway. “If you’re not needing me anymore, I’ll be off.”

“Oh, yes, we’re fine, officer,” Sissy gushed. “Thank you so much.”

He looked at Casey.

Yes, she needed him, but not in any way that would be appropriate. “I’ll be fine. Thank you.”

He gave her a gentle smile, and left.

“Go ahead,” Sissy urged Casey. “Tell the Parkers all about their daughter.”

“Um…” Casey really, really wasn’t up for this. Confusing senseis, sexy police officers, crazy women hiding in the palm trees, being expected to talk about a woman she’d only known a few hours… “I actually only got to know Andrea—”

Sissy cleared her throat loudly. “Ms. Gray is going to be modest, no doubt, Mr. and Mrs. Parker. Andrea was a member of Ms. Gray’s aerobics classes, and one of her best students.” She fluttered her eyelashes at Casey, but Casey could see steel underneath the falseness. “She showed a lot of stability there, and at work, where she never missed a day.”

Was it possible Sissy would know this? Casey couldn’t imagine how. It’s not like anyone took attendance at fitness classes. And Sissy certainly wasn’t checking off little boxes to make sure everybody got to work on time.

Sissy opened her eyes wide and gave Casey a frightening stare.

“Andrea was a…regular class member,” Casey said. It wasn’t a lie. In the one day Casey had been there, Andrea had actually attended two sessions. Three if you counted the impromptu self-defense lesson. “She was very fit, and enjoyed the time with the other women.”

The Parkers didn’t move. They didn’t even act like they knew anyone had been talking. It was a kind of existence Casey recognized. Just as when she’d seen them exit the taxi, she could feel their grief, and their utter, complete exhaustion.

“Sissy,” she said quietly. “They don’t want to hear this right now.”

Sissy slumped, the forced brightness evaporating in a heartbeat. She leaned against her desk and rubbed her forehead. “I know. What I don’t know is what to do with them.”

Casey traveled back to the days after her family’s accident, those first hours when she’d had no idea how exactly her life had changed, unable to bring herself to the present because of the battering pain that would find her. “Do you have access to Andrea’s apartment?”

“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.