Flowers for Her Grave

by Judy Clemons

  Death laughed. “Yes, please, can you carry one of her two bags?”

  “I’ll be fine,” Casey said. “Thanks.”

  Casey went back to her hotel to grab her things. After she’d checked out, Death was waiting at the rental car, wearing the uniform of a moving professional. The logo on the back said Dead Lift. We Move More Than Boxes. “So Maria the Receptionist didn’t seem too thrilled about your getting the job.”

  “Why should she be? I’m the third instructor in a string of losers. She probably expects me to be gone by Christmas.”

  “Christmas? Are we getting close? I haven’t even begun shopping.”

  Casey stashed her bags in the trunk and got in the car, where Death was already in the passenger seat. “What kind of Christmas list can you possibly have?”

  “It’s mostly the biggies. Moses. Elvis. Cleopatra. You can’t imagine how picky that woman is.”

  “I don’t suppose you get God anything?”

  “You know the old saying—what do you give someone who’s got everything?”

  Casey didn’t want to think about Christmas. Not yet. It would be her second without Reuben and Omar. Not nearly long enough to get through the holidays without trauma and a good bout of depression.

  She changed the subject. “So now that I’m going to be staying in one place I won’t be nearly so interesting, right? You can go on your way?”

  “You’re kidding. You think I’m going to leave without seeing how this turns out?”

  “It was just a thought…”

  They traveled in silence the rest of the way back to the Flamingo. Casey parked the car and used the phone on Maria’s desk to call the rental company to pick it up. She waited until they arrived, saw them off, and watched as a shiny black Harley-Davidson pulled into a parking space in the nearest row. The rider pulled off his helmet, and Casey saw that it was Del, the man she’d met in the weight room the day before. He eased off the bike, took a briefcase out of the saddlebag, and walked toward her.

  “Hey. You’re still here?” He smiled, softening his words.

  “Got the job.”

  “Wow, that was fast. But then, Sissy doesn’t exactly—” He stopped.

  Casey laughed. “I know. She’s not the most cautious employer.”

  “I’m not worried. I’m sure you’ll do a great job. I told you I had a feeling about you.” He opened the door, and Casey went inside, lugging her bags.

  Del took the biggest duffel and slung it over his shoulder like it weighed nothing.

  “I don’t suppose you need me, though, do you?” Casey said. “I didn’t see your name on the personal training schedule.”

  “I’m always happy to learn new things, if you’ve got ‘em.”

  They walked together through the lobby, toward the stairs. This time she opened the door for him.

  Del started up the flight. “So what apartment did they give you?”

  “Second floor. Same as the last guy.” She led him to her door, and opened it.

  He set her bag on the empty table. “Nice room.” He meandered over to the balcony door. “Nice view.”

  “Yeah, I like it.” Together they looked down at the pool, where she saw Laurie talking with a group of seniors. It looked like she was giving them swimming pointers. Also in the pool, swimming strong laps from end to end, was the woman Casey had seen in the lobby. Her dark skin made it easy to pick her out from the other swimmers, but even more noticeable than that was her efficiency and strength in the water. She pulled up at the end of a lap and shook the water from her hair. Her head swung up, and her eyes landed on Casey. They looked at each other for several seconds before the woman turned and dove back under.

  Casey was ready to ask Del who she was when he shifted on his feet. Casey followed his eyes to a couple of women walking out to the pool. It was the two most memorable members of the early class. The nice woman and the hottie.

  “I suppose you met them this morning,” Del said. “Andrea and Krystal.”

  “The Land of the Dead.”

  “What?” Del gave a little laugh.

  “That’s what they call themselves. That early class. Because they’re basically sleepwalking.”

  “Right. Brandon especially liked that class.”

  “Brandon, the last instructor?”

  “Yeah. But he liked the senior classes, too. Gullible widows, and all.”

  “He was a real piece of work, wasn’t he?”

  “You’re telling me. Made it hard for the rest of us guys.” He grinned, and again Casey noticed the gap between his front teeth that gave him such a youthful look.

  “Do you know who the women were that Brandon took advantage of?”

  “In what way? Cleaning out their bank accounts, or breaking their hearts?”

  “Or both?”

  “In some cases, yeah.” He shook his head. “He played things pretty closely, but he tended to go for the women who needed attention.”

  “So not Krystal.”

  He laughed. “I think even Brandon was a little afraid of her. Well, I’d better get going. I’ve got a dinner date tonight, and I don’t want to be late.”

  “Going someplace special?”

  “The best food around.”

  “And where would that be?”

  “My apartment.”

  Casey smiled. “Really? You’re a cook?”

  “Trained at the Orlando Culinary Academy for two years.”

  “But you don’t work as a chef?”

  “Nope. I got sucked into corporate life, and now I know what the money’s like, it’s hard to back out. I’ve been working on details to start my own restaurant, but you need more money than I’ve got to dump into something like that. I’m not quite there yet. Until then, I just entertain my friends and co-workers.” He brightened. “How ‘bout I cook for you?”

  “I’d love that.”

  “Tomorrow night. My place. Six-o’clock. You can do that, right?”

  “I have class at eight, so I can’t stuff myself.”

  He pretended to be offended. “You do not stuff yourself with gourmet cooking.”

  “Oh,” Casey said. “So sorry.”

  “You should be.”

  He left, and Casey regarded her bags, suddenly weary.

  “So.” Death sat on the sofa, wearing black Adidas warm-ups and sneakers, which rested on the coffee table. “Time to make yourself at home. If you can, with this musty smell in here.”

  “It smells fine.” Casey shook herself out of her stupor and took another tour of the apartment. There wasn’t a lot to see. The bedroom was just big enough for the bed, a dresser, and a fairly large closet. The one window was a decent size, but too small for a quick exit, especially with its double panes and heavy-duty screen. The bathroom had a tub and shower, and no window. The locks on both the bedroom and bathroom doors were flimsy, doorknob buttons, easy to bust with a sharp kick. Not reassuring.

  The living room held the most possibilities of escape, with two possible exits. The regular door, of course, with a deadbolt and the doorknob lock, and the sliding glass door that led onto the little balcony. There was an okay lock on that, plus a thick wooden dowel in the track at ground level. Casey took up the dowel and stepped outside to look around. Being on the third floor, the jump to the ground would be impossible without fracturing bones. But there was another balcony beside her, within jumping distance, and one on the floor below she could probably reach if she dangled from her own and swung over.

  But then, she’d never have to do that, right? She was Daisy Gray, who had no police record of any kind, and absolutely no enemies.

  The pool had only two people in it now, who seemed more interested in each other than in actually swimming. Casey looked away, not wanting to spy. And not wanting to think about what it would feel like to have a man’s hands on her wet skin as she floated in the pool on a hot day…

  She went back into her condo and unpacked her bags, able to fill only two dresser dra
wers. She kept her backpack stuffed with essentials for a quick escape, should one be necessary—money and paperwork, her old ID, her treasures, and some toiletries and clothes—and stashed it on the far side of the couch in the air-conditioning vent. It might mean her living room would get hot, but it was better than having someone discover her real name.

  The kitchen was her final stop, and while there were dishes and pots and pans, there was nothing to actually eat.

  “Shopping trip,” she said.

  Death waved a hand. “But you sent the car away.”

  “There’s a supermarket within walking distance. I’m going. Why don’t you go, too?”

  “I’d love to!”

  “I mean, go somewhere that’s not with me. Food shopping isn’t very exciting. Especially if I go to the Whole Foods store.”

  Death made a face. “You’re right. See you.” Death disappeared in a cloud of vanilla-scented smoke, which did help to dampen the smell of mothballs.

  Casey trotted down the stairs to the lobby, where the bar was now open. Already a few people, still in work clothes, stood beside high tables, or sat on tall stools. Jack, the bartender, was wiping the counter with a cloth, at least ten feet away from the closest customers.

  Casey angled toward him, and he looked up as she approached, his lips twitching into that same amused grin she’d seen when she’d first noticed him. “Get you something?”

  “No, thanks. Just wanted to introduce myself. I’m Daisy. New fitness instructor.”

  He smiled bigger, actually showing a few teeth this time. “Prettier than the last two. But then, that’s not saying much.”

  Casey laughed. “Thanks, I guess.”

  “I’m Jack, but then, you probably know that already.”

  “I’ve heard.”

  “Yeah.” He wiped another non-existent smudge off the counter. “The Flamingo’s like a small town. News travels fast, and it’s impossible to keep a secret.”

  “Jack!” Somebody down the line rapped a knuckle on the counter. “Get me a refill?”

  Jack pointed at Casey. “Be right back.”

  She watched him receive the order from the man and fill two glasses before inputting something in the cash register. He topped off the pretzel bowl and sauntered back her way. “Sure I can’t get you anything? House wine? Club soda?”

  “No, really, I’m just headed out to the grocery store.”

  “Moving in day, huh? Always nice to get a fresh start in a new place.”

  Casey wasn’t sure what to say. Was he referring to her job, or something more? What exactly had Sissy and Maria told him? Would they share her personal information with the rest of the staff? But he wasn’t looking at her anymore. Now he was wiping off the water spritzer. Not that it needed any more shining.

  “Well, I guess I’ll be off,” she said. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Stop by any time. Bar’s open till midnight, and I’m pretty much always around.” He gave her one last grin before moving back down the counter to respond to another called order.

  Casey found the grocery store just down the block, and spent the rest of the time before her next class filling her fridge and cupboards with the basics and making herself a quick vegetable stir-fry. She was soon trotting back down to the aerobics floor for kickboxing. She harbored a slim hope that the woman from the lobby and swimming pool would show up for this class—it would be the kind of class most in line with the look Casey recognized in her eyes—but didn’t really expect to see her.

  Death, however, wasn’t about to miss something like this, and showed up with all-black workout clothes, ready to kick some ass. Casey was getting very good at ignoring it all, and smiled when Andrea and Krystal came in. They strode right up and took places in the front row. Again, Casey was interested by how two women with all of the same basic features and coloring could have such different auras.

  She went over to them. “Somehow I’m not surprised to see you two here.”

  Andrea laughed. “We need to get the stress of the day out somehow, don’t we?”

  “And let out all our pent-up aggression from pandering to the all-male management at work,” Krystal grumbled.

  “That’s right,” Andrea said. “We can’t exactly beat up our boss, can we?”

  Casey agreed. “So you work together?”

  “Bank down the street. You’d think in this day and age there would be more women in leadership positions, but at our place it’s still all men at the top.”

  “I usually like men on top,” Krystal said.

  Andrea groaned. “You’re going to make Daisy think we’re complete sluts.”

  “Not you,” Krystal said, winking at Casey. “Just me.”

  Casey laughed and held up her hands. “I’m not here to judge.”

  Andrea slid on her workout gloves and secured the Velcro straps. “Have you moved in already?”

  “Yup. I got the usual apartment instructors use. What was the last guy’s name?”

  “Brandon.” Krystal practically growled the name. “He was a horse’s a—”

  “Laurie! Have you met Daisy?” Andrea’s smile was strained as she greeted the part-time aerobics instructor.

  “We had lunch together.”

  “Great! We were just welcoming her to the Flamingo. She’s moved in already.”

  “Into Brandon’s old apartment.” Again, Krystal said the name with disdain.

  “Yes,” Laurie said. “It’s a nice one.”

  “Been there a lot?” Krystal said coolly.

  “A few times. How about you?”

  “Oh, that is a nice condo,” Andrea said cheerily. “Great view of the pool, right, Daisy?”

  Laurie’s jaw tightened. “Know the apartment well, do you, Andrea?”

  “Oh, not that well, I mean I’ve been in it once or twice, but—”

  “Of course she doesn’t know it well,” Krystal said. “I told her. I’ve been in the condo, and the view is fantastic.”

  “Okay, everyone, are we ready?” Sissy danced into the room, this time in a lemon yellow velour tracksuit.

  “Did you know?” Krystal said to Sissy. “Daisy’s moved into Brandon’s old apartment. We’re having a contest as to who’s been in it more. Laurie says it was her. I say it was me. Andrea thinks she’s even been there a few times, but I think she’s just remembering what I told her. What do you say?”

  “You? Why would you—”

  “Unless you want to join the fun. How well do you know that apartment?”

  “I’m the condo manager. Of course I know that apartment. I can’t imagine what you’re implying.”

  “I’m sure you can’t. You don’t have that kind of imagination. But I was wondering, have you heard from Brandon lately? If anybody knows where he’s been since he left, I would think that would be you. You know, being the condo manager, and all.”

  Sissy went bright red, and raised a manicured nail to point at Krystal. “You watch what you’re saying, you little sl—”

  “Okaaaay!” said Andrea, clapping her hands. “Time to get started with class!” She gave a high laugh and gestured to the clock. “Ready, Daisy?”

  Casey blinked, both at Sissy’s blinding outfit and the tension she felt among the four women in front of her. She was more than glad to cut that conversation short. “I’m ready.”

  The class leapt right into it, punching and kicking and shuffling as Casey instructed, and when Casey told them to imagine an attacker’s face, they actually yelled out names. She thought she heard at least one person mention Brandon, but it went by too quickly, and there were too many voices for her to be sure. He had apparently made quite an impression on this bunch.

  Most of the women stayed for the half-hour abs class at nine, and when that was over they begged for a preview of self-defense, which Sissy had planned for the next day.

  “She’s exhausted, ladies,” Sissy said. “Give her until tomorrow.”

  The women moaned, disappointed, so Casey gave in
. “I don’t mind.”

  Sissy frowned. “You have to be tired.”

  “I am, but it’s nothing sleep won’t cure.”

  “If you’re sure.”

  The ladies cheered, and Casey took a position in the front of the class. “So what are the three most important things when it comes to self-defense? Anyone know?”

  “Strength!” someone yelled out.

  “Pointy fingernails!”

  “A good right hook!”

  “Confidence.” That was from Krystal, who seemed to have more than her share of it.

  Casey nodded. “All good stuff. Especially the fingernails.” She grinned. “But there are three you haven’t mentioned that should be at the top of your list.” She held up a finger. “Number one—speed.”

  Some of the women sniggered.

  “Don’t laugh, ladies. Your best chance of surviving an attack is to run away. Let’s face it, a self-defense class can give you some good skills, but as a woman being assaulted by a man, your chances are less than good. Surprise, and getting the hell out of there, are your best friends. Got it? You have a chance to take off, you do it. No questions asked. Number two.” She held two fingers up. “Any guesses?”

  “Don’t be stupid?” Andrea said.

  Casey pointed at her. “Exactly. Don’t be stupid. Do everything you can to prevent an assault. Don’t walk to your car alone in a dark parking lot. Take a friend if you go shopping at night. Make your own drinks at a party where you don’t know anyone. Lots of you younger women–” she pointed out several, including Andrea and Krystal “—think nothing can happen to you. Let me be the first to tell you…it’s not true.”

  Krystal cocked her hip. “So tell us your story. If you know stuff can happen, you must have firsthand experience.”

  “Another time.” Wouldn’t that be great? She could tell the whole group how she’d killed a man just two weeks earlier. That would go over well. And the cops would be on the doorstep by the time class was over. Casey held up three fingers. “So what is the final, and most important thing you can do to take care of yourself? What do you need to do to keep yourself safe?”

  Sissy giggled. “Carry a gun?”

  Several other women laughed.

  Casey shook her head. “So a man can take it from you and put it to your head?”