Flowers for Her Grave

Chapter Twenty-eight

Casey wandered over to the office, trying to remember what she’d even come down there for. She took the seat the woman had just occupied. It was still warm. Maria looked tired, but was definitely back to her business-like self. Her nail polish wasn’t even chipped.

She glanced up. “Can I help you, Ms. Gray?”

“Um, new resident?”

“Yes. All the way from Iowa. Very sweet and…innocent.”

“Good for her.” She hesitated, still trying to get back to her thinking before the conversation with Jack.

Maria waited. “Ms. Gray?”

Oh. Right. “I was wondering if you could help me with a timeline.”

“Timeline?”

“Yes, the fitness guy before me. Brandon Greer. Exactly how long was he here?”

Maria frowned. “Why do you need to know this?”

“It’s not a secret, is it? I could ask the residents, but I don’t think you’d want that.”

Maria’s jaw clenched. “No, we wouldn’t.”

“So?”

Maria pulled up a calendar on her computer, tapping the keys with her fingernails. “He arrived the beginning of June, and left two weeks before you got here.”

“So basically, three months.”

“That was long enough.” Her face and voice were both hard.

“And the guy before him? Richie Miller, was it?”

Maria’s jaw tightened again. “Yes. He was here a little longer. He came…” She clicked back several months. “In November of last year.”

“So he was here six months?”

“Seven.” Maria clasped her hands together on her desk. “Ms. Gray, why is this important?”

“I don’t really know. Look, I heard from various people that Brandon was…unethical. That he was a cheat and a blackmailer. What can you tell me about that?”

Maria went white, then glanced at Sissy’s door and lowered her voice. “He hurt several women…in different ways. Mrs. Williams wanted to stop him before he hurt any more.”

Maria and Sissy included, although Casey didn’t say it. “Did you ever hear anything about Andrea being one of his victims? Or lovers?”

Maria’s eyebrows went up. “No. Never.”

“What about Andrea and Richie?”

Maria went red now. “She was not involved with him, either. What are you suggesting, Ms. Gray?”

“You’re sure about Richie? You sound very certain.”

“I never saw anything that would have led me to believe Richie was involved with Andrea Parker when he was here.”

So they’d hid it well. At least from the administration. “What about other women? Did he have any favorites?”

“This is not something I am free to discuss, Ms. Gray. Maybe you should wait until Mrs. Williams can talk to you.”

“Fine. I’ll wait. But while I’m waiting, do you have any photos of Richie? Or Brandon, for that matter.”

“Why would I?”

“I don’t know. Employee file, community activities…”

Maria turned to her computer and typed. “Here. This is Brandon.” She swiveled the monitor so Casey could see the photo, which was taken in a weight room—not the Flamingo’s. He stood sideways, smiling and holding a huge barbell, his biceps bulging more than seemed natural.

Casey wrinkled her nose. What a letdown. He was huge, yeah, but with one of those wrestler necks that sort of merged his head with his shoulders in a weird, alien-like way. He was both young and blond, which would be selling points, but his nose was weirdly small, and his eyes a bit too close together. You’d think if he was so attractive to all those ladies he would be a lot better looking. “I guess it was his personality?” Casey said.

Maria sniffed. “He did have an…aura. If you like that sort of thing.”

“How about Richie? Any photos of him?”

Maria looked uncertain.

“From when he applied, maybe?”

Maria swiveled the monitor back her way and typed for a bit, paging up and down. “Here.” She glanced again at Sissy’s door, and kept her hand on the monitor, like she was ready to spin it back around at a moment’s notice.

Casey smiled. Now this guy was more like it. She was surprised the women hadn’t gone for him. He looked as nice as they’d all said, with sandy brown hair and an easy smile. He wasn’t nearly the size of Brandon, but Casey thought he looked better. More like a normal person. “Now he’s cute,” Casey said. “Much more worth getting to know, don’t you think?”

Maria sniffed again. Was she allergic to these photos? She turned the monitor back toward herself again and clicked out of the picture.

“From what I hear, Sissy pretty much told him if she ever saw him again she’d slap a lawsuit on him.”

Maria’s nostrils flared. “Yes, that’s correct.”

“Was he really that bad?”

Maria rested her elbow on the desk and kneaded her forehead. “I think he bit off more than he could chew here, but that he was really a good person at heart. Many of the things that happened were not his fault, but Mrs. Williams needed someone to blame, and he was convenient. It’s much easier to fire someone who’s only been with you a little while than to lose residents who bring in money.”

“Yes. That’s what I thought. Everyone else seemed to really like him. Andrea included. I really wonder if there wasn’t more to him than people realized. You seem to realize it. Were you and Richie close?”

Maria jerked her elbow off the desk. “I have to go. It’s the beginning of the weekend, and I need to get home. You can let yourself into Mrs. Williams’ office when she’s ready.”

“Oh. Of course. That’s no problem.”

Maria yanked her purse out of her desk, dropped it, picked it up, and grabbed her jacket, buttoning it wrong and re-doing it. “Goodnight, Ms. Gray.”

“Goodnight, Maria.”

Casey watched her go, startled at her sudden departure. As soon as she’d gone, Sissy’s door opened. She came out holding some papers, and jumped when she saw Casey.

Casey smiled. “Sorry to startle you.”

Sissy fanned herself. “Don’t mind me. I just wanted… Where’s Maria?”

“She left. Said she was headed home for the weekend.”

Sissy frowned. “It’s not even five yet.”

“I think I made her nervous, sitting here.”

“Yes, I can see that. She doesn’t like to be watched over.”

“Who does?”

“Speaking of watching over, did you go up to see the Parkers?”

“Yes. They’re wondering when they can take Andrea’s body home.”

Sissy’s face fell. “What did you tell them?”

“I don’t know why they were asking me. But I said when the cops were ready for them to take her, they could.”

“You don’t know more specifically than that?”

“How would I?”

“Well, you seem to be chummy with the cops.”

“I’m not.”

“But you want to be,” Death said.

Casey spun around, heart in her throat.

Death was in the other chair, one leg flung over the arm, back to wearing the cop uniform. “Or were you just flushed from the heat in the pool room the last time Gomez came around?”

“Everything okay, Daisy?” Sissy stood frozen, one arm extended over Maria’s desk as she held the papers.

“Yes, I’m fine. And I’m not involved with any cops.”

Death chuckled.

“They only talk to me because I’m the one who found Andrea. Really.”

Sissy took a step back toward her office. “Of course. Um, I have some more things to do. I’ll be in here.” She backed into her office and shut the door.

“Where have you been?” Casey growled at Death.

“What? Now you want me around? You really need to make up your mind.”

“Things have been happening.” She told Death about the note from Richie.

“I don’t understand how that could involve me,” Death said.

“It doesn’t. Not everything is about—Oh. Right. Andrea’s dead. But here, you might be interested in these.” Maria had left in such a rush she’d forgotten to turn off the computer. Casey went around the desk and clicked around until she found Richie’s picture again. “That’s Richie Miller. Isn’t he cute? He and Andrea would have made an adorable couple.”

“Adorable. But why are you showing me?”

“Because I thought you’d be interested to see who came before me. Let’s see if I can…” She searched some more. “Here he is. This is Brandon Greer. What do you think? Kind of disappointing, isn’t he?”

But Death didn’t answer. Instead, Death went pale and made a choking sound.

Casey looked from Death to Brandon’s picture, and back again. “What’s wrong?”

“Who is that?”

“Brandon. You know, the guy right before me. The blackmailing Don Juan.”

“It can’t be.”

Casey stopped breathing for a moment. “You mean you know this guy? You’ve seen him…before?”

Death swallowed. “His name is not Brandon Greer. This guy’s name is Wayne Pritchfield. He died last night in an apartment a couple towns over from here. He’d been stabbed to death with a kitchen knife.”

A cold chill ran down Casey’s spine, and she shivered. “Brandon Greer is dead?”

“No, Wayne Pritchfield is. Murdered.”

“Do you know who killed him?”

“Nope. Didn’t ask. He wasn’t real talkative at the time.”

A noise came from Sissy’s office, and Casey clicked away from Brandon’s—or Wayne’s — photo. She jumped up and practically ran to the service stairs. She flew into her apartment and right to the bathroom, where she stood over the toilet for a few moments, afraid she was going to throw up. Nothing happened, except she got covered in cold, clammy sweat.

“Wow, you look nasty.”

Casey slammed the door in Death’s face, and when Death’s face poked through the door, she threw a bar of soap at it. Death retreated.

Casey stood under a hot shower until she stopped shaking, then washed her hair twice and scrubbed her body, as if she’d been sullied somehow. Brandon Greer was dead. Murdered. That changed everything. No wonder the folders were still in the bank. He’d still been around, all along. No one had known it, apparently. They’d thought he’d cut all ties, but he must have had other reasons to remain silent. Now he didn’t have a choice. He’d be silent now because he was dead.

She had to tell Binns.

She turned off the shower, wrapped up in a towel, and went out to the living room to get her phone. She got Binns’ voice mail.

“Call me,” Casey said. “It’s urgent.”

Casey scrabbled through the desk and found an old phone book. She dialed the police department.

“Raceda Police.”

“Detective Binns, please.”

“She’s not available right now, may I take a message?”

“How about Officer Gomez?”

“You should have his number, anyway,” Death said. “For when you get that yearning in the middle of the night.”

“He is also out of the building.”

Casey ground her teeth. “Have Detective Binns call Daisy Gray, please. It’s important, about the murder at the Flamingo.”

“Of course. I’ll get her the message right away.”

Casey hung up and stood, still dripping, in her living room.

“Um, you might want to put on some clothes,” Death said.

Casey dried herself off, yanked on some jeans and a blouse, and brushed her hair. “Good enough?”

“Hope so, ‘cause Dylan’s just about here.”

“What?”

“Your date, remember?”

A knock came from the door. Casey strode to it and swung it open. Dylan stood there, with an entire bouquet of roses this time.

“What are you doing here?” Casey said.

“Um, dinner, remember?”

“Yes, and we’re meeting in the lobby at six-thirty.”

“I couldn’t remember. And I couldn’t find my phone to call and ask.”

“Didn’t you ever pick it up in the gym this morning, after Tamille scared you half to death?”

“Oh. Duh. I couldn’t think of where I’d left it. All that terror must have erased my memory.”

Casey shook her head. “Well, come in, then. I’m almost ready, anyway.”

Casey went to put on some shoes, making sure she had her phone for when Binns called back. When she got back to the living room, Dylan was looking out her window. “Nice view.”

“Would be nicer if I actually saw the ocean, but then these wouldn’t be the cheap seats.”

“I have a view of downtown from my place, which isn’t all that exciting, believe me. I’d much rather see the pool and palm trees.”

Casey stood beside him and looked down at the pool, where people had already begun the weekend. A couple dozen people were in the water or lounging around it, with a waiter going in-between tables, taking orders.

“So, Dylan, you were here when Brandon got the fitness job, right?”

“Sure.”

“Did you hear anything about where he came from? Or where he went when he left?”

“Nah. He wasn’t exactly a guy’s guy, you know. The most I saw of him was if he happened to be in the weight room when I was, or down in the bar. I never really talked to him.”

“And Krystal never said anything about him?”

He looked at her sideways. “You mean like whether or not they were, you know, doing it?”

“Could be. Or anything else about him.”

“All I got from her about Brandon was that she hated his guts. She thought he was a creep. She wasn’t even going to aerobics those last few weeks he was here. Said it wasn’t worth it to have to breathe the same air as him every day.”

Casey stared down at the pool, not seeing it. Who all hated him? Or loved him? Or maybe both? Sissy. Shelly. Bernie. Maria. Krystal. All of the other women listed on those folders. Had one of them killed him? And then killed Andrea because she thought she was involved with him? Would any of them have the strength to take on a guy as huge as he’d been?

“Have you heard any rumors about where he went?”

“Oh, there are all kinds of rumors. Which ones do you want to hear? That he went to work for Arnold Schwarzenegger? That he’s living in Guadalupe with his gay lover? Or that he got put up in an apartment by his Sugar Mama, working his glutes and waiting for her to die so he can inherit her fortune?”

“Do any of them seem likely?”

Dylan grinned. “All of them, actually.”

Casey could have believed any of them, too, before she’d learned he was lying in the morgue with a toe tag that said, “Wayne Pritchfield.” Now the theory that stuck out was the Sugar Mama one, seeing how he’d died in an apartment close to Raceda. Had one of his jilted ladies or blackmail victims found him, and brought an end to his greedy polygamy?

“So,” Dylan said. “I’m pretty hungry.”

Casey wasn’t. But what else was she to do? Binns could get in touch with her wherever she was. And being in the Flamingo was giving her the willies. “Okay. Let’s go.”

After a quick and unfruitful stop in the gym to check for Dylan’s phone, he led her to his car, a dark green Toyota Corolla.

“Too far to walk?” Casey asked.

“It’s on the other side of town. We could walk, but it would take forever, and I’m so hungry…”

Casey got in the car.

“Oh, this is so exciting!” Death’s head was suddenly between Casey and Dylan, arms over the backs of the seats. “Your first date in such a long time!”

“It’s not a date,” Casey said.

Dylan sighed so heavily Death’s head wavered. “I know. You’ve already made that perfectly clear.”

Whoops.

Death fell into the backseat, laughing.

Casey rolled her eyes. “Dylan, don’t give me the whole injured little boy thing. It was only two nights ago you and Krystal barged into my office, clothes flying.”

He went red. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m…” He gripped the steering wheel so hard Casey was afraid he was going to snap it.

“Forget it. Tell me about this restaurant.”

He gave a shaky smile, and relaxed his hands. “It’s Cuban. They make a great shrimp enchilada.”

“Bet it’s not as good as Del’s.”

“Who?”

“Big guy in the weight room. He’s going to be a chef.” Which made her stomach knot, because who knew if that was only because he had made sure Andrea was no longer his loan officer?

She just couldn’t believe that.

But Del would certainly have the strength to kill a guy like Brandon. The only question was…would he have reason to? He’d said he was making good money at the insurance company. Why wasn’t that enough to be seed money for a loan, or at least to satisfy Andrea that he was a good loan candidate? Was Brandon was blackmailing him, too, and taking his money? Or maybe Del had a history Andrea couldn’t ignore, and Brandon couldn’t resist? But there wasn’t a folder with his name on it. It seemed like Brandon only targeted women.

When they got to the restaurant Casey and Dylan had to wait only a few minutes for an empty table, then squeezed their way through the packed little room to the far corner. Casey took the side against the wall, looking out toward the door.

“Told you it was a hole in the wall,” Dylan said, grinning.

“Yeah.” Death stood behind Dylan with crossed arms. “No room for a third.”

The waiter brought a basket of warm, freshly fried tortilla chips, and Casey smiled at Death, who could smell them, but not eat them. She found that once they were in front of her, she actually was hungry, and dug right in.

“Dylan,” she said around a mouthful. “You know Tamille?”

He choked on a chip, and grabbed his water glass. When he’d recovered, he set down the glass and took another chip, like nothing had happened. “Uh, yeah.”

“I talked to her. She promised not to devour you.”

He blinked several times. “Really?”

“Really. You’re safe. Even if I’m not around to protect you.”

He made a show of wiping his forehead with his napkin. “Whew. I will sleep better tonight.”

Casey laughed.

She had shoved another whole chip, complete with a large dollop of salsa, into her mouth when Death gave her a brief wave and disappeared in a puff of mist. She had just enough time to wonder what had happened before her phone rang in her pocket. She grabbed it, expecting Binns, but was surprised at what she saw on the display.

“Dylan,” she said with her mouth full. “You’re calling me.”

He lit up. “Someone found my phone!”

She swallowed. “Hello?”

A stream of hysterical Spanish assaulted her ears, a mixture of wailing and screaming. She held the phone away, her head ringing. “Do you know Spanish?”

Dylan shook his head. “French all through high school. Japanese in college.”

“Really? Japanese?”

“It makes sense, business-wise.”

The voice was still shrieking. Casey waved down her waiter and thrust the phone at him. “Can you tell me what this person is saying, please?”

He made a face at the noise, then took the phone and held it gingerly at his ear. He looked shocked at first, then spoke something that must have been calming, because Casey could no longer hear the waves of distress. The waiter’s face went completely serious, his dark brows lowering over his eyes.

“She says there is a house that has been…things have been damaged.”

“What? Who is it?”

“She says her name is Rosa. She’s afraid. The people from the house are missing.”

Rosa? From the Flamingo?

“Has she called 911?”

He went back onto the phone, patting the air as if he were consoling the caller. He turned to Casey. “She wants you to come.”

Casey looked at Dylan, who sat with his mouth open. “I’m sorry, Dylan.”

“It’s okay. Let’s go.”

“I don’t know if—”

“I’m not sending you off to face some home invasion by yourself.”

Casey asked the waiter to get an address. He scribbled it on his order pad and ripped it off, also handing her phone, which was still on.

“Thank you,” Casey said. “Gracias.”

He nodded, and Casey and Dylan ran out the door.