Flowers for Her Grave

by Judy Clemons

  The poor woman’s dark tan was now a dark red, whether from embarrassment or exercise, or a combination of both, Casey wasn’t sure. Her breath was coming in gulps.

  “Okay, ladies.” Casey clapped her hands. “A little more stretching, then you’re good to go.”

  After the last deep breath holding their arms upward, the women broke formation. Bernie shot out of the room so fast Death made a show of dodging her, arms flailing.

  “So, is there anything new about the investigation?”

  Nasty Woman, again, peering eagerly at Casey.

  Casey turned off the stereo and set her mic in its cubby. “What’s your name?”

  “Vonnie.”

  “Well, Vonnie, I’m not part of the investigation, so I wouldn’t know.”

  Vonnie’s eyes narrowed. “I saw the cops taking you back to your office.”

  “To talk. And when I say, ‘talk,’ that doesn’t mean they’re the ones doing the talking.”

  Vonnie’s eyes lit up. “So you’re a suspect? Or they think you know something? Maybe you know something but don’t realize it.”

  “I don’t. Know anything, that is.” That’s all Casey needed. To have someone coming after her because this stupid woman thought she knew more than she should. “So what happened with Bernie and Brandon?”

  Vonnie tittered. “It was embarrassing, really. I mean, she’s so old. And she went after him like he’d actually want her.”

  “But he did spend time with her?”

  “Oh, sure. Brandon wasn’t one to turn down a willing woman.”

  “Were there others?”

  Vonnie guffawed this time. “Others? How about a dozen others? Brandon wasn’t exactly a one-woman man, although he somehow made them all think he was.”

  Apparently Vonnie wasn’t one of them. Not that Casey could blame Brandon. Even a crook would want to stay away from this old windbag.

  “Do you know who any of the others were?”

  “A few.” She looked at Casey slyly. “Why do you want to know?”

  Why did she want to know? It couldn’t have had anything to do with Andrea’s death, could it? Unless Brandon and Andrea had hooked up. But she couldn’t see it. Del had said Brandon went after the needy types. Andrea didn’t strike Casey at all as “needy.”

  “Never mind. I don’t.”

  “Uh-huh. You just watch you don’t go seducing the men here, now. Although who you’d want to go after, I sure wouldn’t know. They’re either too young, too old, or too gay. And not necessarily just one of those, either.”

  Casey opened her mouth to object, then saw that Vonnie was smiling. “Right. I’ll do my best to keep my hands to myself.”

  Vonnie laughed out loud. “You do that.” She gathered up her towel and water bottle. “And if you’re still wondering about Brandon’s women…you might want to check out some of the employees, as well as the residents. Seems they weren’t immune from his charms, as they’d like you to believe. Bye, now!”

  Casey watched her go with a mixture of curiosity and revulsion. Vonnie was a mean gossip, but a spewing fount of information, as well.

  “Sometimes I wish I could take them when I want to,” Death said, “instead of waiting for Ms. Big up there to decide.”

  “Yeah, well, that one would be kind of heavy, if her soul matches her form.”

  “Nah. Once they’re gone, they weigh as much as a butterfly. I carried that huge guy from The Princess Bride without any trouble at all.”

  “André the Giant?”

  “That’s him. He was a wrestler, wasn’t he? Ginormous. But enough about dead people. Clock’s ticking. Next client’s up in three minutes.”

  Casey rolled her neck. “They do keep me hopping, don’t they?”

  “It’s what you wanted, remember?”

  She remembered. She’d been afraid she wouldn’t have enough to keep her brain occupied, otherwise. She hadn’t been counting on one of her new neighbors getting killed her first night on the job.

  Her next client was waiting by the water cooler, bouncing on the balls of his feet and glancing around the room at the others already working out. He had to be at least eighty years old, and exuded more energy than Casey’s entire last class. He wore short, tight gym shorts and a tank top, exposing more of his skinny limbs than was necessarily attractive, and his head was entirely bald except for one patch of thin gray hair on the very top. Casey loved him immediately.

  “You must be Marcus.”

  He grabbed her hand and shook it vigorously. “Just so you know, I’m on a very strict exercise regime.”

  “Really? Why don’t you hop on the treadmill and tell me all about it.”

  “Oh, it won’t take that long. You see, I started a running program just yesterday, and I’ve only missed one day so far.” He cackled merrily, and slapped his thigh. “Got that off late night TV.”

  Casey laughed and guided him toward the cardio equipment, glancing toward the free weights, in case the tall woman was back. She wasn’t.

  “Oh, he’s a laugh and a half, this one,” Death said from the next treadmill over, where the speed was on the lowest possible setting.

  “Well,” Casey said to Marcus, “let’s see if we can’t get you on a better schedule.”

  “You betcha.” Marcus literally hopped on, as Casey had suggested, and turned the speed up to high.

  Casey quickly adjusted it. “Let’s start out nice and easy, get you warmed up, okay? Now, what kind of exercise have you been doing lately? For real,” she added, as she spied the twinkle in his eye.

  His shoulders slumped, and he leaned way over toward her, gripping the arms on the machine. “I haven’t actually been doing any. But there’s a cute lady, see, and I need to do something to get her attention.”

  “Ah. Someone here?”

  He glanced around fervently. “Not in this room, thank goodness. But she lives in my building. The Palm. I love her. She’d been seeing someone else for a while, but I think she’s free now. Free for me.”

  “Okay. Let’s see what we can do to get you ready for her.”

  Marcus giggled, and pushed his speed button again. Again, Casey reached over and turned it down. “Any kind of exercise you specifically like? Other than sex,” she said, when his eyes sparkled dangerously.

  “Woman, you’re taking all the fun out of it.” But he was grinning as he said it.

  Casey laughed. “Okay, come on, Marcus, let’s go.” She got him off the treadmill and over to the machines, where she herded him from place to place, dodging jokes and slaps on the back as he told them. At the end of the half hour, when she placed him on the treadmill, she was exhausted, but entertained. “So when are you going to ask this woman out?”

  “Oh, not for a bit. She’s really busy these days, you see, with the murder and all.”

  “Really? Why is that?”

  “Because she’s in charge.”

  “Of what? The investigation?” Marcus couldn’t be in love with Detective Binns. She was way more than even he could handle. Besides, she didn’t live in the Palm.

  “No, silly. Our apartment complex.”

  “You’re in love with Sissy?”

  Marcus jumped, and smacked his hand over her mouth. “Quiet, now. Don’t need to go broadcasting my intentions to the entire world.”

  “But…” All kinds of objections came to Casey’s mind, the main one being that Sissy was entirely too young for Marcus, and putting the two together would be almost too much giddiness to bear.

  “Oh, come now,” Death said. “You’re really going to tell me that this cute, little old man doesn’t have what it takes to please Sissy? He’s got more going for him than most people I’ve seen.”

  Death was right. “Sorry, Marcus. I’ll be quiet. And she’s a lovely woman. Very…colorful.”

  Marcus sighed, his eyes drifting toward something in the unseen distance. “She lights up my world.”

  “But…who was she seeing before? Someone here?”
r />   Marcus’ face darkened. “She would never tell me. She was very secretive, and every time I’d ask she’d just say he was wonderful, and he made her feel like a woman, but that their relationship had to be kept a secret so the others wouldn’t get jealous.” He thumped his chest. “I could make her feel like a woman. I’d make her feel so much like a woman she wouldn’t know what to do with herself.”

  “I believe you could.” Casey looked at Death, wondering if their minds were again working in tandem. “This other guy, do you know anything else about him?”

  Marcus frowned. “He was young. Too young for her. She liked to brag about it.”

  Casey had been afraid of that. “Okay, Marcus, enough about him. From what you say, that’s all over. Now we’ll get you in shape to take her on.”

  He smiled. “That’s what I like to hear.”

  “Now keep the speed down for today, you hear me? I’ll be checking.”

  He sighed dramatically. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Casey got him settled, then went to the door to wait for her next client.

  And to wonder just how many people knew that Sissy had been one of Brandon’s adoring harem.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Casey got through her next client and class with nothing more out of the ordinary than one of the women passing out during cool down. Turned out she’d been awakened by the emergency vehicles two nights earlier and hadn’t been able to sleep well since. Once Casey got her sitting up against the wall, the woman also admitted to not eating anything but cabbage for the past five days, because she needed to lose five pounds by Thursday in order to win a bet with her sister, who lived in Arizona.

  Incredible.

  Two of the woman’s friends promised to get her back to her room and feed her, so Casey let them go.

  “No wonder she smelled bad,” Death said. “Like sauerkraut, gone bad.”

  Casey trudged up the stairs to her apartment and crashed onto the sofa. “She’s not even fat, that’s the stupid thing.”

  Death grunted. “Fat in the head, maybe.”

  “Speaking of fat, I’m still not hungry after that feast last night.”

  Death plugged both ears. “Not listening. La, la, la.”

  Casey forced herself up and into the kitchen, where she made herself a salad. She might not be hungry, but she didn’t want to end up on the floor like that dumb woman. She’d just taken a first bite when there was a knock on the door. She sighed heavily and closed her eyes.

  “No rest for the suspicious,” Death said cheerfully.

  Casey looked out the peephole, and was surprised to see Maria standing there. She opened the door.

  “I’m sorry to bother you,” Maria said, “but Sissy said you were looking for a key to the desk in the office.”

  “No problem. Come on in.” Casey wiped her mouth with a napkin, and made sure she didn’t have anything on her hands.

  Maria hesitated. “I’m interrupting your lunch.”

  “It’s all right. I’m not really all that hungry.”

  “I know what you mean. Ever since…well, you know, I haven’t been able to eat much.”

  “So, about the key?”

  “Yes, I’m sorry, but we don’t seem to have it. Mrs. Williams says you looked all over the office?”

  “Yup. Not there.”

  “And you haven’t been able to find it here?”

  “In the apartment? No, but then, I hadn’t looked. Has anyone?”

  Maria’s eyes darted around the apartment. “We had the apartment cleaned. And if anyone on staff needed the key and thought it might be here, this apartment has been vacant for a couple of weeks for them to search it. No one’s said anything about finding it. I could help you look, if you would like me to.”

  “No, that’s all right. I’m sure it’ll show up somewhere.”

  “If you’re certain.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you later, then.” Maria took one more quick look around the room, and left.

  As soon as the door was shut, Death jumped up and down. “Oh, she was so itching to turn this place upside down.”

  “But as she said, she had two weeks to come up here and search. She mustn’t have found anything before.”

  “But now you’ve brought it up again, and she’s worried. Which means she was most likely yet another of his women, and he has something on her. Maybe financial papers.” Death made a face. “This guy’s really starting to give me the creeps. I’m surprised I haven’t seen him yet. You’d think he’d have died of AIDS or a smackdown ages ago.”

  Casey agreed. “You know, if Maria was that worried, she would’ve found a way to open the drawer without a key.”

  “Someone did try, remember? And couldn’t get in that way. But if they’d busted the drawer, there would have been some explaining to do.”

  “Right.” Casey looked around. “So where do we start?”

  She yanked the cushions off the couch to reveal lint, a button, two quarters, and a pencil. She felt around the sides, but found nothing except dust and a few dried up mini Shredded Wheat squares. “Didn’t she say they cleaned this apartment? This is pretty disgusting.”

  “Under here, too.” Death lay on the floor, peering underneath the couch. “Can you see anything?”

  Casey tipped up the sofa to see underneath. “Nope. Nothing but dust bunnies, stale pretzels, and a rubber band. And there’s nothing taped to the bottom. Let’s check the chair.” Casey pulled off that cushion, too, but faced only the same sort of trash as in the sofa. The floor below was also clear of anything valuable. Casey put the cushion back and looked around the room. “Okay. Let’s think like an unethical, sleazy con man. Where would I hide something?”

  “You do realize your salad’s going to wilt.”

  “Let it.” Casey went next to the picture on the wall. Nothing behind it or on it, or in-between the picture and the matting. There was also nothing behind the blinds, in the lamp, under the table, or in the cabinets of the kitchen. The bathroom was clean, the bed was free of extras, and the vents, other than her own hiding place, were empty of everything but dust.

  “Smoke alarm?” Death said, looking at the bedroom ceiling.

  Casey pulled off the cover. And found a key.

  Death squealed. “There it is! Let’s go!”

  Casey glanced at the clock. “Can’t now. I’ve got BODYPUMP in two minutes.”

  “Oh, these women, needing to be all fit and everything.” Death stomped the floor.

  “It’s what got me this job, don’t forget. Without people to exercise, we wouldn’t be here. Which I guess would be a good thing.”

  “So I can go back to complaining about the people?”

  “No.”

  “Fine. At least take the key with you, so you can check the drawer after class.”

  Casey slid the key onto her key ring, stuck her salad in the fridge, and made her way downstairs to the aerobics room. “Do you think the person who was in my apartment last night was looking for the key?”

  “Doubtful.” Death slid down the railing. “Those two weeks, remember? They had plenty of time to toss the place.”

  “Which means they really were searching for dirt on me.”

  “Afraid so.”

  Casey found a full house when she arrived in the aerobics room. She didn’t really have a feel for this class yet. The group that had gathered two days earlier had been a much different demographic from the earlier classes, except for Sissy, who had come and given up halfway through. Today looked like the same bunch as before, mostly young women on their lunch breaks. Some of them were monsters, as if they’d been using weights for more than just a one-hour class three times a week. Casey’s heart lifted. Here were women who actually cared about fitness, and weren’t just there to put in the time and say they exercised. She liked it.

  “So,” one of the women said, stepping in Casey’s path. “You the one who found Andrea?”

  Casey gazed up at th
e tall, coffee-skinned woman, and her abs constricted the way they did when she was preparing to fight. It was the woman she’d seen several times before—in the weight room, across the lobby, staring up at her room from the pool. Up close the woman looked even bigger. Casey reminded herself that she was in a yuppie condo, and not a back alley. This was a Flamingo resident, not an opponent in the ring. She took a step back. “That’s right.”

  The woman studied her, checking out her eyes, her physique, and the way her hands hung loose at her sides. “You’ve been hit recently.”

  “I thought those scars were gone.”

  “Nah, I can see it. I’ve had ’em myself.” The woman frowned. “But they’re not so recent as two days ago, when Andrea was attacked.” The woman nodded, as if she’d made a decision. “My name’s Tamille Jackson.”

  “Hello, Tamille. It’s time for class. Are you ready to—”

  Tamille slapped at the side of Casey’s head, her hand open. “My point.” Tamille smiled with one half of her mouth, and came at Casey with her left hand, not giving Casey time to recover from her shock. Casey blocked it easily.

  “No points,” Tamille said, not taking her eyes from Casey’s. She jerked her head at the women surrounding them. “Clear out, ladies.”

  They backed away so quickly it was like they were pushed out by force.

  “Oh, goody,” Death said, clapping. “This should be fun.”

  “What is this?” Casey said. “I don’t want to—”

  Tamille threw a punch at Casey’s mid-section, and Casey blocked it with an upturned forearm. Tamille’s hand was a mere inch from Casey’s chest. Close enough to scare, but not close enough to do any damage. She was pulling her punches, which meant two things: one—she wasn’t trying to hurt Casey, and two—she knew what she was doing. Casey pushed Tamille’s fist away and stepped back, studying her opponent. Taller than Casey. Smiling. Bouncing on the balls of her feet. She was coming at Casey with a full frontal attack, which meant she was trained in a different manner from Casey. An offensive fighting style, as opposed to Casey’s hapkido, which was mainly a defensive art. Probably a form of karate, one of the most popular martial arts for Americans. The art which had people breaking through layers of bricks or boards. Or people’s heads.