Dying Echo: A Grim Reaper Mystery (Grim Reaper Series) (6 page)

“So?” Death gestured to the door.

Casey slowly turned the doorknob. It didn’t budge.

“You could kick it down,” Death suggested.

Casey didn’t bother replying. Instead, she rang the doorbell. And then she knocked. There was no answer.

“Back door?” Death hopped over the rail, already on the way around the corner. Casey followed, trying to look past the drawn curtains to the interior, but all she could see was fabric. When she got to the back, Death was coming out the door. Actually, coming
through
it.

“What’s going on?” Casey said.

“Your mom’s just sitting there. Staring into space.”

“You were not invited in.”

“Tell me about it. I’m never invited. But it’s not like I’m a vampire in those books kids read these days. I don’t
have
to be invited. You know, I’m wondering where that myth came from, anyway.” Death pulled the ebook reader out and began tapping the screen.

Casey put her hand over it. “You don’t have to be polite, either? You can just walk into non-dying people’s houses?”

“For heaven’s sake.” Death brushed her hand away, and she drew back, shivering. “Like you’re Miss Manners.”

Casey blew on her fingers, then tried the door. It was locked, just like the front. The window in the door was clear of obstruction, the curtains drawn to the side, so Casey cupped her hands around her eyes to peer in. “The kitchen looks exactly the same as when I was a kid. Except dark.”

“How about knocking?”

Casey tried. Again, no response.

“I’d say she doesn’t want company,” Death said. “What are you doing?”

Casey was crouched beside a flowerpot that held a dead plant. “There’s a key under here. Or at least there used to be. Here we go.” She stood up, dusting her hand off on her jeans and holding up a silver key. She took another deep breath and slid the key into the lock. The door opened, like it always had when she would come home from school.

“Mom?” Casey poked her head through the doorway, then walked all the way in. The smell of her childhood tickled her nose. Lysol and gardenia mixed together, but only faintly, as if they were merely distant memories, rather than anything present day. “Mom?”

Death swirled around her to materialize in the doorway to the dining room. “This way, Casey.”

Casey followed, shivering in the air Death left behind.

Her mother sat by the front window, but she wasn’t looking out of it. Instead, she sat stiff-backed, staring at the far wall, her hands clasped together on her lap. She wore a light blue sweatshirt with cardinals on it, and a loose, elastic-waisted pair of jeans. Her hair looked like it hadn’t been washed—or even combed—for a very long time. Perhaps since Ricky had been arrested the week before. She had become, in the two years since Casey had left, an old woman.

Casey followed her mother’s gaze to the wall and went weak-kneed. The little shelf that had always held Casey and Ricky’s school pictures was still full. Only now the shelf held photos of Omar. His first baby picture, his three-month, the six-month taken only days before his death. In each photo—well, except for the newborn one—he was grinning that gummy smile, his dark eyes bright, his shock of black hair sticking up, even after they’d worked so hard to plaster it down.

“You okay?” Death stood between Casey and the photos, almost solid enough to block the view.

“I’m fine.” Casey wrenched her eyes from the pictures and knelt by her mother’s chair. “Mom?”

“I don’t know,” Death said. “She’s not looking so good. Kinda like you right now, all white and everything, except older. She has definitely lost weight since we last saw her. I mean, look at those skinny arms.” Death pulled out an iPad and held it up. “See? Photo from before the accident. It’s like she’s not even the same person.”

Casey waved the iPad out of her face and touched her mother’s arm. “Mom. It’s me, Casey.”

“Of course it’s you.” Her mom’s head snapped toward her, and her eyes flashed. “I think I still know my own daughter. Even if you have forgotten us.”

Casey sat frozen, shocked into silence.

Death, however, had no such issues. “Woo-wee! You are your mother’s daughter, aren’t you? Good thing she doesn’t know kung fu.”

“You take off, leave me, leave Ricky. Let that woman come into our lives.
His
life. And now look what’s happened. Your little brother is in jail. Locked away with criminals. How do you think he’ll be treated in there?”

Not something Casey wanted to consider. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m back now. I’m here to help.”

“Like that will work, with the cops all hunting you.”

“Not anymore.”

Her mother’s eyes filled. “They caught you, too?”

“No, Mom. I’m free. It’s taken care of. I’m here now. The cops aren’t after me.”

Her mother grabbed Casey’s arm with spidery fingers. “You’re home? For good?”

Casey glanced at Death, who waited with undisguised interest for her answer. “I don’t know, Mom. I came home to help Ricky.”

Her mother’s clutch loosened, but she didn’t let go. “Well, that’s something. Isn’t it?”

“It’s something.”

Her mom picked at Casey’s sleeve. “Have you been to see your brother?”

“Going this afternoon. Do you want to come along? I can have Don put you on the list.”

Her mother shook her head, slowly at first, and then vehemently. “No. I can’t see him there. I can’t. It was bad enough losing him to…to that woman. Now I’ve lost him for good.”

“Not for good. We’ll get him out.”

Her mother’s eyes bored into hers. “I don’t see how you’ll do that. She fixed him up good. That little…witch.”

“The plot thickens,” Death said. “Or at least gets interesting.”

“Mom, from what I hear, Ricky loved her.”

Her mother grumbled. “He was
obsessed
with her. There’s a difference. Your brother is a sweetheart, we all know that. Would do anything for anybody. Has done everything for
you
.” She shook her head. “I thought he was smarter than other men. I guess I was wrong. A pretty face comes along and he’s as dumb as they come.”

Death whistled. “I am so feeling the love.”

“Mom, what made her so bad?”

“Besides getting herself killed and accusing him?”

“She didn’t…why didn’t you like her
before
?”

Her mother let go of Casey’s sleeve and again clasped her hands in her lap. “She took him over. His whole life. It was all
Alicia this
and
Alicia that
. I couldn’t…” She closed her eyes again, and her knuckles went white from the strain of her grip.

“She couldn’t compete,” Death said.

It sounded that way.

Death rushed on. “And she apparently had no idea Alicia wasn’t the girl’s real name. You realize Ricky probably didn’t know, either. He gave the police this fake one. Makes you wonder just how well he knew her, after all.”

It made Casey wonder a lot of things. “When did Ricky meet her, Mom?”

Her mother’s eyes didn’t open, and she talked in a low voice. “A few months ago. July? June? I can’t remember. I don’t know. It was probably going on long before I knew about it.”

Certainly before Casey had known about it. She’d talked with him a few weeks ago, before all this had happened, and he hadn’t said a word. She’d even teased him about women, and had warned him to stay away from another one he’d dated who Casey hadn’t liked. He hadn’t said anything about Alicia. Probably afraid Casey wouldn’t like this one, either. Ironically, having her mother hate the girl so much made Casey feel less angry with Alicia, and even sorrier that she’d ended up the way she had.

“What do you know about her, Mom? Where was she from? How long has she been here in town?”

Her mother shrugged her bony shoulders. “Ricky never told me much. She worked at some awful diner on North Jackson. Terrible food. Your brother convinced me to go there one time. The mashed potatoes were fake, and the gravy came from a can. The pie was cold and doughy.” She shivered. “I wonder when the health department last checked up on the kitchen.”

“Alicia was a waitress?”

“I suppose. Ricky met her when he made a food run for that catering company he works for. Not that the girl’s restaurant had the good sense to buy their food. This was for some huge banquet or other. The girl had been hired on as extra wait staff for the event. Ricky took one look and…” Her jaw came forward. “That’s all.”

“She never visited here? You didn’t get to know her?”

Her lips twitched. “Ricky never brought her. My opinion apparently didn’t matter.”

“Ah,” Death said. “Now we’re getting to it.”

“Or,” Casey said, “he was forming his own opinion before getting yours, Mom. That’s only natural.”

“Hmpf.”

Casey glance at Death. Her mother had never been this snarky before. The whole affair had obviously been more than she could handle.

“Plus, you haven’t exactly been here for her,” Death said. “Who knows how long she’s been this way?”

Great.

“Anything else I should know, Mom? Anything that might help Ricky?”

“I’ve already said. It was the girl. You find out about her, you’ll find out who really killed her.”

“You’ve told me
all
you know?”

Her mother leveled her eyes at her. “I told you—I don’t know much. Your brother—and that girl—made sure of it. Why would that be if she didn’t have something to hide?”

Casey stood up, knees cracking. “Okay, Mom. I’ll look into it. I’ll find out why she was such a mystery.”

Her mother grabbed her hand. “Casey. I am glad you’re home. I’ve missed you.”

Casey put her arms around her mother’s shoulders, which were so much frailer that she remembered.

“I’ve missed you, too, Mom.”

Her mother stiffened, and Casey backed away.

“Come back and see me,” her mother said.

“Of course I will.”

“Don’t let me hear that you’ve left town again.”

“I’ll be back, Mom. I promise.”

Her mother turned away, returning to her posture of staring at the far wall, her hands knotted together on her lap.

“Bye, Mom. Just for now.”

Her mother’s only response was a tightening of her lips.

Casey avoided looking at the photos on the shelf, even though they pulled at her like living things. Omar. Her sweet baby. Dead and gone.

Once outside, she took a deep breath and made her way toward the front yard. Out on the sidewalk she paused and glanced toward the front window, where she could imagine her mother hiding behind the curtain. “Why would Ricky and Alicia stay away from Mom? Why keep everything so secret?”

“Because they were afraid,” Death said.

“Of the Three? You think Alicia told Ricky about them?”

Death pulled out an iPod and stuck in the earbuds. “No, I’m sure she never mentioned them to him. It would have freaked him out, and most likely she was trying to forget them herself.”

“Then what were she and Ricky afraid of?”

Death looked back toward the house and laughed.

“What?” Casey said. “You think they were afraid of
Mom
?”

Death turned up the volume and spoke loudly, like people do when they have music in their ears. “For the life of me, I can’t imagine why they
wouldn’t
have been.

Chapter Eight

The restaurant where Alicia had worked was called The Slope, and it seemed to be walking a slippery one. Casey took a booth at the back, where she could sit against the far wall and see both the front door and the doors to the kitchen and unisex bathroom. It resembled the restaurant from the day before, where Casey had found the pay phone amidst the competing smells of stale fry oil and dead rats. She could hardly imagine her mother there, trying not to touch anything, and only picking at the food she was served for fear of contracting some deadly—or just gross—disease.

“You know,” Death said. “I think I’m going to leave you to it. I’m feeling all…greasy.” And Death evaporated in a cloud of french-fried mist.

After a few minutes of examining the cover of the not-quite-clean-enough menu, Casey studied the waitress who sauntered over to her table. Her name tag had been made with an old-fashioned Labelmaker; dark green tape with raised white letters, which read simply, “Bailey.” The girl’s brown uniform shirt strained at the seams around her ample breasts, and her jeans were so tight they couldn’t possibly have been easy to move in, let alone allow circulation. Dark circles surrounded her washed out blue eyes, as if she hadn’t had enough sleep in the last year, and her skin would charitably be called pale and pasty. But that could have been the poor lighting.