Flowers for Her Grave

Chapter Five

The Flamingo Apartments lived up to their namesake. Tall, skinny, and pink, with white and lime green highlights, and palm trees surrounding the parking lot. Behind the building Casey could see the ocean, sparkling and blue, lined with white sand. A pelican perched on the dock, and seagulls flitted about, calling to each other. Sailboats floated past, their sails taut, probably headed toward the marina Casey had passed on her way in. The docks there had been lined with more boats than Casey could count, from the smallest sailboat to the huge kind you could live on for a year. Casey was rested, and had eaten a good breakfast after staying overnight in a hotel.

“I’m glad I dressed appropriately.”

Casey glanced at her companion, who wore all white, and held a walking stick with a brass handle. “Who are you trying to be?”

“The cool, southern citizen.”

“You can do cool?”

Death glared at her. “I am the epitome of cool.”

“Whatever.” Casey looked up at the building through the windshield of the car. “I guess we go in the front. I wonder how tight security is?”

“Doesn’t matter. You could take ‘em.”

“I don’t want to take them. I want to act like a normal human being.”

Death snorted. “Good luck with that.”

Casey got out of the car and slammed the door.

“No need to get huffy,” Death said, appearing suddenly on the sidewalk.

A guard in typical guard-style clothes met them just inside the entrance. He sat behind a large desk and smiled, his teeth shiny in his dark face. “Good morning. How may I help you today?”

“I’m here to see Mrs. Williams, please. I have an appointment.”

“Oh,” Death said. “That kind of normal human being. You have manners, and everything.”

The guard looked at his appointment book. “Ms. Gray? Ten-o’clock?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Sir?” Death choked out a laugh.

Casey took a deep calming breath, knowing it would look very bad if she tried to slug someone the guard couldn’t see.

The guard picked up a phone and spoke into it. “Ms. Mendez? A Ms. Gray is here to see Mrs. Williams.”

“Ms…Mrs…” Death said. “It looks like we may have joined polite society, at last.”

The guard set down the phone and gestured toward the second set of double doors. “Mrs. Williams is expecting you. Right through there, please.”

Casey gripped her purse—which still felt very strange. How long since she’d carried one of those?—and went into the main building. She was greeted by the smell of tropical flowers. Live palm trees reached toward the glass ceiling. Sunlight shone through the panes, lighting up the large room, and Casey almost pulled out her sunglasses. A bar took up the entire right side of the space, and a lounge with a dozen comfortable chairs and sofas were scattered—in a planned, casual sort of way—throughout the area. The bar was closed, but a little coffee shop on the left side of the hall was open, and a few people sat at small tables in front of it, one man with a newspaper, and one woman, about Casey’s age, working on her laptop, with a cup of coffee and a half-eaten bagel at her elbow. She looked up, and a thrill ran from Casey’s head to her toes.

The woman, even sitting, was tall, and her coffee-colored skin shone with health and fitness. A jacket hung over the back of her chair, which meant her muscular arms were revealed from under her tank top. She sat with a posture of confidence and no-nonsense, and her kinky hair sprayed out in a shining mass of curls, like a dark halo. But it was much more than her appearance that got to Casey. It was the look in her eye. Casey recognized it. It spoke of battles fought and won, of challenge, and of a desire to control her surroundings. Casey hesitated, wanting to speak to her, knowing that just as much was being broadcast about herself as about the other woman.

“Ms. Gray?” A small Hispanic woman approached Casey.

Casey tore her eyes from the table. “Yes.”

“I’m Maria Mendez. Welcome to the Flamingo.”

Maria had a pleasant accent, and was about as opposite in appearance from the woman at the table as could be, but her eyes also revealed something familiar. Not the sense that she had total command of her environment, but that she’d been through a lot to get where she was, and wasn’t going to take any crap. She was probably in her thirties, and was dressed to a T in a dark business suit and heels. Her hair had been twisted into a perfect bun, with not one hair daring to fly free. Casey felt like she should salute.

“Please,” Maria said. “Come this way.”

Casey followed her toward the back corner, where they went through a door marked, “Office.”

“Mrs. Williams is ready for you.” She knocked on another door, and opened it. “Mrs. Williams, Ms. Gray is here.”

“Come in, come in.” Mrs. Williams got up from her chair to shake Casey’s hand, and Casey choked back a laugh.

Death didn’t bother holding it in.

The Flamingo Community Director, “Call me Sissy,” was in her fifties, with bright orange hair. She wore a lime-green track suit, with a lemon-yellow headband, and bright white sneakers. Her lipstick was an alarming shade of orange, matching her hair and her perfectly manicured fingernails. She looked like an upright, slightly pudgy, fruit basket. Casey wasn’t sure if she was supposed to eat her or drink her.

“Thank you, Maria,” the fruit basket said. “That will be all.”

The receptionist backed out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

“Have a seat, please, Ms. Gray.”

“Please, call me Daisy.”

“Please, call me Daisy,” Death said, and giggled.

Casey, ignoring Death’s rudeness, took one of the pink chairs. Death sat in the other.

“I received the e-mail with your vita, Ms. Gray, and it is quite impressive. It looks like you have experience with all areas of our program.”

“I’ve been in the fitness field a long time.”

“The problem comes, however, with your lack of references. We really do need to talk with some of the people you have worked for.”

“I’m sorry,” Casey said. “That’s just not possible. All of the people I’ve worked for have either moved on or closed their doors. That’s why I’m searching for work.”

Sissy frowned. “Then even with your experience I’m afraid we can’t—”

“Could I at least offer some free classes? Perhaps one of each kind. You could see whether or not you like what I do.”

“But that still doesn’t answer the other questions.”

“Which are?”

“Whether or not you’d be a good fit for our community personally.”

“Which means she is worried you’re here to scam the residents, empty out their bank accounts, and disappear into the ether,” Death said. “Or else kill them all. You need to convince her you’re not only a good teacher, but a good person.”

Casey thought she looked the part of a reliable citizen. She’d taken the time to not only clip her nails and get a haircut, but to buy some respectable khakis and a blouse, leave her bags in a hotel room—this time at a very nice Four Seasons—and actually put on some make-up. She couldn’t look more respectable. There wasn’t a whole lot she could do about her blank history.

“You’re losing her,” Death said. “Make something up.”

She wasn’t sure what that meant.

“A sob story,” Death said. “Something to make her feel sorry for you.”

“I’m…trying to start fresh,” Casey said. “I’m coming from a…a bad situation.”

Sissy sucked in a breath. “Were you in jail?”

“What? No!” Casey glared at Death.

Death’s eyes rolled up toward the ceiling. “It’s not my fault you’re a bad liar.”

“How about a trial run?” Casey said, trying to reassure Miss Citrus. “I’ll give you a week of free classes. After that, we can re-evaluate. You can talk to your residents, see what they think.”

“It’s hard to trust their instincts,” Sissy said. “After the last two instructors.”

“What happened with them?”

Sissy looked like she had just sucked on the lime she resembled. “I can’t talk about that. Let’s just say neither of them was as good with people as I’d hoped.”

“I’m good with people,” Casey said.

Death about died laughing.

“Really.” Casey did her best to sound convincing. And good with people. “I can work with all types. Old, young, in shape, out of shape, men, women. I love working out, and getting other people to exercise. I can improve their fitness and…and their lives.” She made herself stop talking to just smile, and tried not to look desperate.

Sissy was wavering, Casey could tell.

“I’ll even throw in a self-defense course.”

Sissy brightened. “Oh, our ladies would like that.” She’d made up her mind. “You can start your trial tomorrow. Pilates at six AM.”

Death groaned.

“Perfect,” Casey said. “What kind of schedule were you thinking for the rest of the day?”

They went over the times the residents were used to exercising, which would take Casey from early morning to evening, with a break in the middle of the day.

“We do have a resident who leads classes part-time, as well, so if we decide you’re right for us, you can plan out a schedule that works for both of you. Since the full-time position is live-in, commuting shouldn’t be an issue. We’ve never had a problem before with the classes spanning the day.” She looked defiantly at Casey, as if waiting for her to challenge this statement.

“I’m sure it would be fine,” Casey said, because what else was she planning on doing with her time? She’d be happy if classes took her from dawn to dark, with short breaks only for eating. That way she wouldn’t have to think.

“Super. We’ll see you tomorrow morning, bright and early.” Sissy hesitated. “Unless you’d like a tour of the facility right now.”

“That would be great.”

Sissy punched a button on her phone. “Maria!”

The receptionist came into the room. “Yes, Mrs. Williams?”

“This is a prospective fitness instructor. Give her a tour of the community, please.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Sissy,” Casey said. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“At step aerobics,” Sissy said. “Eight-thirty. I don’t do Pilates.”

Casey smiled. “It’s not for everyone.”

“And neither are the hours before dawn.”

Casey shook Sissy’s hand and followed Maria out into the reception area. Casey immediately looked for the woman at the table, but she was gone. Casey wondered when she would see her again, and hoped it would be under favorable circumstances and not when the woman needed somebody to beat up.

“So what did Mrs. Williams tell you about the community?” Maria asked.

“Not a lot.”

Maria snatched a colorful brochure from her desk and handed it to Casey. “We’re an enclosed community for singles and young professional couples. Age ranges from twenty-one to past retirement age.”

“No kids?”

“Our residents prefer an adult atmosphere.”

Casey gave the receptionist a quick glance. Maria’s voice was professional, but Casey thought she heard some judgment in that last statement.

“So this, of course, is our administrative area.” Maria gestured to the large office. “Out here—” she led Casey into the large front lobby “—is the last thing our residents see every day before leaving, and the first thing they see upon their return.”

Casey could appreciate that. She wouldn’t mind seeing those palm trees and smelling those flowers on a daily basis.

“And of course we have the coffee bar in the morning and the…other bar at night.”

“Nice,” Death said. “Nothing like a little partying and hooking up to make a happy home. With the coffee in the morning to help with the hangovers. Think they supply Advil?”

The bar itself wasn’t open, since it was still just morning, but a man stood behind the counter, rag in hand as he dusted bottles and checked their levels.

Maria waved her hand toward him. “That’s Jack Sandoval, the bartender.”

He must have heard his name, or felt them watching, because he turned around. His bright blue eyes were piercing, even from across the room, and a slight, amused grin pulled up one side of his mouth.

Casey liked the look of him, and smiled back. He gave off the aura of being very solid and mature, his hair just thinning on top, his body lean under his white button-down shirt with its rolled-up sleeves. Probably in his forties. Not tall. But…solid. Yes. That word fit him very well.

He nodded to her, and turned back to his work.

“How many residents live in the building?” Casey asked Maria.

“There are one hundred-fifteen apartments in this main building, about two-thirds filled with singles, plus we have two more buildings toward the ocean, one on either side of the Flamingo, which each have fifty units. So at any given time we house close to three hundred people. This building tends to serve the younger residents, while the smaller two are more attractive to those who are closer to retirement, or who already have retired. They have their own gathering places in their lobbies, so the generations tend not to mix too much, except in the exercise arena or the outside pool. We have a few empty condos right now in this building. I’ll show you one when we’re done with our tour, if you’re interested. After all, if Mrs. Williams hires you, you’ll be living here, too.” She led Casey up a flight of stairs, which opened into a wide hallway.

Casey made a note of the cameras mounted along their route. It looked like the Flamingo took its security at least semi-seriously. “Do you live here?”

There was just enough hesitation before Maria’s answer for Casey to realize she’d struck a nerve.

“I live off-property,” Maria said. “On the other side of town. Most of the staff does, except for those who have housing as part of their salary.”

“And Sissy?”

“Building Two. The Palm. Fitness instructors are usually younger, so they stay in The Flamingo. Besides, it’s where the job takes place.”

“Question about that,” Casey said. “Or really more about the previous instructor. Can you tell me why she left?”

“He. He left. And no, I can’t talk about it.”

“Or the one before him?”

“That was another he. And that’s not my story to tell, either. Suffice it to say they didn’t work out and he left two weeks ago. Perhaps you’ll have better luck.” She slid a key card into a slot on a door, and it opened automatically. “As you can see, we’re on our fitness floor, and this is our weight room.”

Casey stepped in and was pleased to see a water cooler, which sat just inside the door beside a shelf of clean towels and a bowl of apples and oranges. The fruit wasn’t enough to mask the usual smell of weight rooms—sweat. But this room also had a tinge of chlorine mixed into the odor, probably from the pool Casey could see through the glass wall on the far side of the room. It looked Olympic size, and was presently in use.

One man, a few years older than Casey, paced around the free weights area, shaking his arms. It wasn’t his first day lifting, from the size of him. He had a full head of hair, not yet gone gray, and his legs were tree trunks. A weight belt encircled his narrow waist, and there was no sign of steroid acne on his back or shoulders. Casey approved.

Another man and two women, all older, used the weight machines. Casey was impressed at the quality of the facilities. She’d never been a huge fan of weight training, but she’d done some in the past, and could see herself using these.

At the far end of the room, overlooking the pool, stood a line of cardio equipment—treadmills, stationary bikes, and ellipticals. Only a few were in use now, again with an older contingent. Some of the exercisers were glued to little TVs on their machines, but others watched the water aerobics class in the next room. Casey walked over to see how many participants were in the pool.

“That’s Laurie Kilmer, the resident who helps out with classes,” Maria said, indicating the woman at the front of the group of swimmers. She was probably in her forties, with dark hair and overly-tanned skin. Her teeth were so white they practically blinded Casey with the reflection from the water. She looked fit, and from what Casey could see, was working the residents hard, but safely.

“Maria.” It was one of the women on a treadmill, and she gestured for Maria to come closer.

Maria excused herself and went over to her.

“You the new fitness instructor?” The man from the free weights had drifted over and looked Casey up and down, not in a creepy way, but more like he was deciding if she would qualify for the position.

“Not yet. I’ll be doing some classes this week, on a trial basis.”

“That’s good. Sissy can’t seem to pick decent people.”

That was funny. Sissy had blamed the residents for liking the previous ones.

The man gave a little grin. “You look a little more normal than the last couple.”

If only he knew. “The last instructor wasn’t normal?”

“Normal in that all he cared about was money. And getting in the women’s pants. You know the story.”

“Sure.” It wasn’t like it was a new one. “And the one before?”

“He wasn’t so bad, as a person. Actually, he was a pretty nice guy. He just didn’t have any idea what he was doing, job-wise. Injured more people than he helped, probably. One day he just stopped coming. Never showed up again, and good riddance. Guess he realized he was about to get fired and took things into his own hands.” He shook his head. “There was a while Sissy was having such bad luck she wasn’t sure if we should even keep the fitness center open, or should at least stop offering classes led by ‘qualified’ instructors. But then, she’d lose a lot of residents if she took that away.”

“The last guy—what happened with him? Did he just stop showing up, too?”

He glanced toward Maria, then stepped a little closer to Casey. “Sissy found out one of the older women had changed her will to include him and about blew the roof. He was gone the next day. He may have known what he was doing as far as fitness, but he was an idiot people-wise.” He crossed his arms, which were just as muscular as his legs. “You’re qualified?”

“People-wise or fitness-wise?”

He smiled, revealing a gap between his front teeth that took several years off of him. “Either.”

“Don’t answer him,” Death advised. “At least about the people part.”

“I’m licensed as a personal trainer. You want to arm wrestle me, just to be sure?”

The man laughed. “I’ll take your word for it. Wouldn’t want to hurt you.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“Oh, come on.” Death was suddenly behind the man, throwing air punches. “Give him what for. Show him who’s boss.”

“Del?” Maria was back.

“Hey, Maria. Just meeting the new instructor.”

She looked uncomfortable. “Actually—”

“I don’t have the job yet, remember.” Casey smiled. “Del.”

He shrugged, and grinned. “You’ll get it.”

“You’re sure?”

“I can tell about these things.”

“Well, I hope you’re right. Nice to meet you, anyway.”

He moved back toward the weight area, then stopped and turned around. “So you know my name. What’s yours?”

“Daisy. Daisy Gray.”

Death held a hand around Del’s biceps, but looked at Casey. “Sounds almost like you mean it when you say that name. But you should practice some more in front of a mirror.”

Del shivered and glanced toward the air conditioning vent in the ceiling. “So, anyway, Daisy, see you around.”

Maria watched him go. “I hope he was…”

Casey could see the word choice going on in Maria’s head—Discreet? Welcoming? Appropriate?

“He was very nice. Seems to like this place.”

Maria led Casey across the room. “He’s a good guy. A good resident. He’s been here five years, or so, which is longer than most.”

“So the turnover’s fast?”

“Depends. Here in the Flamingo you’ve got some long-term folks, who come in their early twenties and stay a while, but you’ve also got people who show up for a year or two, and then are off to other places. The Palm and Pelican buildings are different, filled mostly with people who want to move somewhere warm in their older years. There’s also a good portion that comes only during the winter months, and their condos sit empty half the year.” She looked like she didn’t think this was the best policy.

They walked past a counter, where a young Hispanic woman was folding towels.

Maria waved. “Hola, Rosa!”

Rosa looked up shyly, her eyes darting to Casey and back to Maria.

Maria rattled off something in Spanish, then turned to Casey. “I’m telling her you’re applying for the fitness instructor job.”

Casey smiled at Rosa, reaching deep inside for the bit of Spanish she’d learned from Reuben. “Hola, un placer conocerte.”

Rosa’s shyness turned to pleasure at Casey’s attempt to say it was nice to meet her, and she stood up straighter, her face growing serious with concentration. “Hello. It is a nice day.”

“Yes,” Casey said. “It is.”

“Adios, Rosa!” Maria flipped her a wave. “See you later!”

Casey waved, too, and followed Maria through a door into a large, airy room. “Is Rosa new to the States?”

Maria frowned. “Why?”

“Just wondered.”

“She’s been a citizen for almost a year now. Came over from Cuba a long time ago. Completely legal. You have a problem with people immigrating?”

Casey held up her hands, wishing she’d kept her mouth shut. “Just making conversation.”

Maria looked at her for a few seconds before saying, “This is our aerobics room,” although it needed no explanation.

The room was large, one entire side filled with mirrors. The other walls had been painted a faint yellow. The floor was blond wood, and the lighting was recessed, spread throughout the ceiling at even intervals. Mats stood in neat stacks in one corner along with racks of exercise balls; hand weights and resistance bands lay in individual cubbies. As in the weight room, a full water cooler sat in the corner, minus the fruit bowl.

“There’s a sound system,” Maria said, pointing to speakers in each corner, “with portable mics for the instructors. And a wide selection of music, unless you have your own.”

“May I look?”

“Of course.”

Maria was right. There was anything she could want, from Golden Oldies to classic rock to hip hop to Top Forty. She flipped through and selected a CD for Pilates the next morning. Six AM would come awfully early—she might as well know what she was going to use before she got there.

“You’re finished?” Maria said. “I’ll show you the locker rooms yet.”

“What?” Casey said. “No spinning class?”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But that’s the one thing left to do. They’ve run out of space. It would mean either major renovation to change the two condos on this floor into a cycling room, or taking up room in the aerobics and weight areas. Nobody wants to do that, and the two residents on this floor don’t want to give up their spacious suites.” She pushed open the door marked, “Women,” and Casey shook her head with disbelief.

These were way more than locker rooms. Roomy lockers, benches and comfortable chairs, multiple individual showers, and a sauna.

Death gave the sauna a pass. “Why people want to sit and sweat is beyond me. You may be boring with all your workouts, but at least you’re doing something.”

Casey agreed, but wasn’t about to tell Death that.

“This is the training room, which separates the men’s and women’s locker rooms.” Maria unlocked the door. An examination table sat against the wall, along with a whirlpool, a sink, and cupboards, filled with first aid supplies. A large metal desk was wedged into the corner with a new iMac, and a rack of hand weights rested on the floor beside it. As Maria had mentioned, there was a door on the opposite wall leading to the men’s locker room, which apparently opened into the hallway across from the weight room.

“This would also be your office,” Maria said.

Office? Computer? Casey’s head spun.

“So, do you think you could work here?” Maria’s voice was dry.

“I think I could manage.”

It was nicer than any place she’d ever dreamed of working. Her old dojang, back home, was a tiny little room on the third floor of an old warehouse. It was hot, and cramped, and they were lucky if they had enough mats for everybody to use on a given day. But it worked. Casey had learned what she’d needed.

“Come on, then,” Maria said. “I’ll show you an apartment.”

She took Casey up one flight, and opened a vacant condo. It was a furnished two-room space, with hotel-type furniture, and a few generic paintings above the bed and sofa. Apart from the bedroom and living room, there was a small kitchen, a full bath, and a good-sized closet.

“Nice,” Death said. “If a little small. And it smells like mothballs.”

“It’s perfect,” Casey said.

The sliding glass door opened onto a little balcony, which overlooked the outdoor pool. Several people floated on mats, or lay beside the pool on lounge chairs. A lifeguard perched in a tall chair, and a hot tub sat close below him, with one person in it.

“The higher-priced condos are further up, where you can actually see the ocean beyond the trees,” Maria said. “Those, of course, are for the paying residents.”

“Of course.” Casey looked around the room. She could see herself being…well, not happy, exactly…but comfortable there. Yes, she could be comfortable.

Maria walked back to the door. “Would you like a walk around the grounds?”

“Sure.”

The tour took them past the bar, where Jack the bartender gave Casey another amused wave, and included a peek into the mailroom and kitchen, the lobby of the Palm building, and a glance at the maintenance shed. Well, it wasn’t a shed, exactly, being a full garage and storage area for the lawnmowers and a Gator, besides two pick-ups with the Flamingo emblem on the side.

They ended up on the private beach, where Casey breathed in the salty air and looked down the shoreline toward the marina on one side, complete with a restaurant over the water, and a line of condos down the other. The water was clear, the sand was white, and Casey didn’t know what she did to deserve this opportunity.

“Job’s not yours yet,” Death reminded her. Death now wore a bright blue bathing suit with Hawaiian flowers, a visor, and shades, and sat on a lounge chair under an umbrella.

Casey held her hand over her eyes and looked toward the horizon, watching as two sailboats moved smoothly toward each other. “What a beautiful place.”

Maria sighed heavily. “It is. Most of the time.”

Casey was going to ask what she meant, but when she turned to say the words, Maria was already on her way back to the Flamingo.