by Judy Clemens
Casey cleared her throat. “Didn’t she—Ellen, I mean—last week…”
“Yes,” Eric said. “She died.”
Silence again covered the theater, and Casey looked from face to face. Eric’s sadness, Becca’s discomfort, the two young guys without a clear expression.
And the director’s stubbornly held jaw. “She’s not what we want.”
Eric glanced at the rest of the cast, then back at the director. “Says who?”
The director pushed himself from his seat, held a finger out toward Eric, then let it drop. Stiffly he gathered his belongings—briefcase, coat, umbrella—and put them over his arm. “Fine.” He looked at Casey, his chin held high. “Rehearsal tomorrow evening. Seven-o’clock. Don’t be late. And try to…” He waved a hand at her clothes. “Clean yourself up a little.”
Without another look he swept out the double doors, allowing them to slap shut behind him.
Chapter Six
“I’m sorry,” Eric said. “If I’d known you were coming, I would’ve warned you.”
“Yeah.” Casey shook her head. “I wish you could’ve.”
They sat on a bench outside the theater, the night air still promising rain.
“Thomas is a head case,” Eric said. “He really is.”
Thomas. The director. “And you’re in his play…why, exactly?”
A smile flitted across his face, and he ducked his head toward the street. “Let’s just say it’s penance, and leave it at that.”
Penance. Casey breathed in the cool night air. “Well, I hope what you did to deserve it was worth every moment. Penance like this would cover a lot.”
“It better.”
They sat quietly, and Casey eased her head back, her face toward the sky. “What happened? With Ellen? The notice at the bus stop said she died suddenly.”
“Yeah. She did.”
Casey brought her head down at the pain in his voice. “You knew her well?”
He shrugged. “We were in the play together. She would…she and her kids came to eat supper at the hall.”
Casey studied his profile. “There was no husband in the picture?”
He looked away. “It was just her and the kids.”
“Were her children there tonight? At dinner?”
“No.” He leaned forward, his hands in prayer position between his knees. “They’ve gone to stay with their grandparents. Ellen’s folks. They don’t live in Clymer.”
Casey nodded, closing her eyes. When she opened them again, she had to force herself not to jump at the sight of Death, who sat on the other side of Eric, picking fluffy buttered kernels of popcorn from a paper bag and chewing them with gusto.
“How did she die?” Casey asked.
Death shrugged, looking at Eric with interest.
Eric’s face remained averted. “They say she killed herself.”
Casey sucked in her breath.
Death made a face.
“Was she…did she have an illness?”
Eric gave a sad laugh. “Not unless you call unemployment being sick.”
“Oh. She got laid off from HomeMaker.”
“Right before Christmas. In the first wave.”
“And since then?”
He sat up again, still looking at his hands. “She was doing odd jobs, where she could find them. But there aren’t a lot here. No one else in Clymer is in the position to hire a cleaning lady or an extra hand at a store. The Burger Palace at the edge of town was about it. Not that she could support herself and her kids with that.”
Casey shook her head slowly. A sad story. A painful story.
Death stared at Casey with wide eyes, obviously wanting her to ask Eric more questions. But about what?
Eric’s face was pale, his lower lip sucked in, like he was trying not to cry.
Casey nodded. “You…cared about her.”
“What? Of course I did. I care about all—”
“But she was special.”
Eric closed his eyes. “I thought maybe…even with the kids…maybe partly because of the kids…we might…” He stopped. “She was such a strong person. I never would’ve thought she… But I guess all that doesn’t matter anymore, does it?”
“Of course it does.” She looked at Death. “Just because someone dies doesn’t mean she isn’t still important to you.”
Death tossed a popcorn kernel in the air and deftly caught it and ate it.
Eric turned his face toward Casey. “You sound like you’ve had some experience.”
Casey grimaced. “Exactly what Thomas said.”
Eric gave a small laugh. “Please, don’t compare me to him.”
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to make you nauseated.”
He smiled, and glanced at his watch. “Well, it’s getting late. Want to go somewhere for something to eat? Or get a drink?”
The two full meals Casey had eaten had more than filled her up. As for the drink…
It had been just before her last birthday. The party with Reuben’s colleagues. They’d closed a huge deal and were celebrating. Reuben’s boss was happy, standing rounds for the whole crew. Casey had stuck pretty much to the champagne. Reuben to his usual Corona, with lime. Not too much. Nothing excessive.
She’d caught her husband’s eye across the room, where he was held captive by one of his team, a loud-talking IT expert, who believed the world would be a better place run entirely by computers. Reuben had tolerated the ideas because the kid knew his stuff. And because Reuben was just that kind of guy.
Reuben had given her that smile. The one that said he was just biding his time before they’d stayed long enough and he could take her home to their bed. She’d worn the red dress, the one he especially liked. She’d raised her glass to her lips, holding his gaze, and had blushed at the thought of what would happen later.
“Thanks,” she said now, to Eric. “But I really don’t…drink. And I’m not hungry.”
“Oh. Okay. Well, then, can I take you to your hotel? Or wherever you’re staying?”
She looked at Death. “I don’t actually have a place to stay.”
Eric sat up, blocking Death from her view. “Really? You want to stay at my place? I’ve got an extra room, with a futon. But if you don’t like futons you can have my bed and I can sleep on the futon.”
Casey looked at Eric’s face, alive again with helpfulness. “Thanks, Eric, but I think… Is there a hotel or something close by? Something not too expensive?”
His face fell, but he covered it up quickly. “Sure. The Sleep Inn is right out by the highway. Nothing great, but they have beds.”
“That’s all I need. And a shower.”
He grinned. “I’m pretty sure they have bathrooms, too.” He swung himself up, off the bench. “I walked today, so we’ll have to go by my place for my car.”
Casey stood, thinking about Eric’s car. “You know, I can just walk to the hotel. It’s out by The Burger Palace, right?”
A shadow passed across his face, probably at the thought of Ellen’s last job. “It’s at least a mile. I can run and get my car, if you want. Bring it here.”
“No. No, that’s okay.” She looked Death in the face. “I really prefer walking. It’s more interesting.”
Eric looked confused at that, but held up his hands. “Whatever you want. I can walk with you.”
“But then you’d have to walk back. You go on home. Really. I’m used to it. I can take care of myself.”
He looked uncertain. “Yeah. I’ve been curious about that.”
She’d been wondering how soon he’d ask, how long he could contain his questions about where she’d come from, and why. “Practice tomorrow evening at seven?”
He gave a little smile, apparently seeing through her change of subjects. “And dinner at five, if you want to come by.”
“To help.”
“To help.”
“Okay. I’ll be there.”
“Good.” He looked down the dark street. “You’re sure I
can’t—”
“I’m sure. Goodnight, Eric.”
“Well…goodnight.”
Casey hefted her bag onto her back and watched Eric walk away. He stopped once, about half a block away, to look back. She raised a hand, and he resumed his walk.
Casey took a deep breath and walked in the opposite direction, stopping in front of Death, who still sat on the bench. “I suppose you want to come along? There will probably be two beds.”
Death looked after Eric, who was just disappearing around a corner. “But it won’t be nearly as fascinating as if you’d gone home with him.”
Casey shook her head. “You’re impossible.”
“No. Not impossible. Just picky. Have fun at your cheap hotel.”
And Casey found herself standing in front of an empty park bench, the breeze blowing an empty popcorn bag to the ground.
Chapter Seven
Death was right. The hotel certainly wasn’t interesting. Gross, maybe, but not interesting. Casey lay in her own sleeping bag on top of the covers, far removed from the sheets, which apparently hadn’t been washed after someone with lots of dark curly hair had slept there. The cable TV wasn’t working, and the air conditioner made such an awful racket Casey wouldn’t have heard the Second Coming if it happened right outside in the parking lot. The temperature in the room really didn’t need lowering, either, so Casey turned off the malfunctioning equipment.
By the time dawn broke and light began seeping through the too-small curtains into the room, Casey had gotten only a few hours of sleep and had had enough of counting the little dots on the lowered ceiling. She got up, moved enough furniture around she could just manage her morning routine of calisthenics and hapkido techniques, took a quick shower in barely heated water, and headed out, hoping nothing too disgusting had crawled into her backpack while she’d slept.
The sky was brighter than the day before, and Casey doubted rain was in the forecast. It would be nice to be dry for at least a little while. She stopped at the desk to ask the sleepy, barely-out-of-high-school attendant where she might get some breakfast, and he directed her across the street to what she’d assumed was a closed diner, not having seen any cars there earlier. But inside the restaurant she was pleasantly surprised at the light and the cleanliness—both a nice change from The Sleep Inn.
After a good mushroom omelet Casey brushed her teeth in the bathroom and asked the cashier if there was a library anywhere close. He assured her there was, right downtown, and Casey headed back the way she’d come the night before.
Her path took her past the bus stop where she’d seen the fliers. She stopped to look again at the notice of the benefit for Ellen’s family. A garage sale. A fitting event for a struggling community. Probably not a huge fundraiser, but something these folks could afford.
Walking on, Casey took one turn and soon stood at the doors of the library. Closed. The schedule on the window said the library would open at eight-thirty. Casey checked her watch. About eight. She slid the bag from her back and took a seat on the bench outside the front door. It wouldn’t hurt her to sit for a while. Her night’s sleep certainly hadn’t been the greatest.
But by the time she was roused by the jingle of the doors being unlocked she was ready to move again. The librarian, a young man almost as wide around as Casey’s right leg, opened the door with a smile. Casey was careful not to knock into him as she passed. The slightest touch would likely break a bone.
“Visiting town?” the man asked. Stacy, it said on his nametag.
“Yes. Could I use one of the computers?”
Stacy sat behind the counter. “Do you have a library card within our system?”
“No. I’m from out-of-state.”
“All right. How about a driver’s license?”
She did have that, but she hesitated. “You hold it as collateral?”
“That’s right. It’s the only way I can allow you to use a terminal.”
Nothing new. “Okay.” She took her license from her wallet and handed it to him, watching as he set it in the slot for Computer #1. So no written record of her library visit. Good.
“That’s your station, right there,” Stacy said, pointing. “If you need anything else, please let me know.”
Casey thanked him and took her place at the computer. Going on-line, she first checked her e-mail. A gmail account. Non-traceable, and entirely non-geographical. She found the usual smattering of spam, which she deleted, but not much else except the usual note from her brother. This time it was brief: Call me. Ricky
She sighed. He couldn’t ever just write what he wanted to talk about.
No other e-mails needed her attention, as she never gave out her address. How the spammers found her, she never knew.
Clicking out of e-mail, she typed in the name of the other site she had memorized. One that repulsed her, but drew her at the same time. Taking a deep breath, she hit Enter.
Pegasus.com came up immediately. Bright colors, flashy advertisements, End-of-Season sales announcements for the new line of hybrid cars. Of course lots of space describing their all-star rating for gas mileage.
Somehow, there was never anything about mechanical malfunction, accident rating, or the way their cars burst into flame upon impact. Nothing noting any pending lawsuits.
Suddenly dizzy, Casey rested her head on her hand and took a deep breath. Breathe in, breathe out. In. Out.
“Ma’am? Are you all right?” Stacy’s voice held a tinge of panic.
Casey lifted her head and managed a small smile. “I’m fine. Thank you. Just tired.”
“If you’re sure…”
Casey put her head back on her hand, this time tilting her face away from the inquisitive librarian and toward the monitor. Could Stacy see the screen? She snuck a peek toward him. No. Wrong angle.
Casey focused her attention on Pegasus, going to the bio for the company’s owner, Dottie Spears. Same smile, same glossy hair-do. Same exact photo as last time. Casey clenched her jaw, making the same unfulfilled promise she always made—to never go to that web site again.
A crick in her neck called her to sit up straighter, and again she regretted her night at The Sleep Inn. Leaving the Pegasus web site behind, she typed in parameters to find a bed and breakfast in Clymer, if there was such a thing. And there was. One. The Nesting Place.
Hmm. Sounded a bit out there, but it was the only place in town, and the pictures of the renovated Queen Anne looked appealing. Casey grabbed one of the scrap papers and sharpened golf pencils from the basket by the computer and wrote down the address. It was worth a try.
In the midst of writing, she stopped. Did she really want to get involved in this town? In that play? In the soup kitchen?
She wasn’t sure.
Tucking the paper into her pocket, she went back to the search engine and typed in Ellen… What was her last name? She pictured the garage sale announcement. Ellen Schmucker? Snyder? Schneider. She hit Return.
A wide array of Ellen Schneiders filled the screen, and Casey realized she’d made the search too wide. She added the words, “Clymer,” and, “Ohio,” and tried again.
This time it became clearer, and she was presented with several articles from local papers about the untimely death of the young single mother of two.
WOMAN FOUND DEAD IN HOME
FORMER HOMEMAKER EMPLOYEE
DIES BY OWN HAND
SINGLE MOTHER LEAVES
CHILDREN TO STARVE
Casey frowned at the tabloid-style headlines, and clicked on the first article, dated the earliest.
Ellen Schnieder, 31, was found dead in her home yesterday afternoon when her neighbor, Mrs. Bea Tilly, stopped by to ask about the Schneiders’ dog. “I’ve never seen Griffey in such a state,” Mrs. Tilly told this reporter. “He’s always such a calm little fellow. It was like he was trying to tell us something.”
And it seems he was. Entering her neighbor’s unlocked front door, Mrs. Tilly found Griffey’s owner slumped onto the k
itchen table, an empty coffee mug and a spilled bottle of prescription pills in front of her. “All I could think was that I needed to do something before the children came home,” Mrs. Tilly said. “They didn’t need to see that.”
They didn’t. By the time Schneider’s children were released from school, law enforcement had closed off the scene, and the new orphans were in the custody of their grandparents. The Schneiders, Ellen’s parents, were unavailable for comment.
“I’ve never seen anything like this here in Clymer,” Police Chief Denny Reardon said. “I can’t comment on what happened, but can assure you it is under investigation.”
The town of Clymer is eager for answers. “It’s horrible that she could do this, if it really is what it looks like,” Clymer resident Becca Styles said. “Everyone loved Ellen, she was so level-headed, so the idea that someone like her could make this choice is scary.”
Casey looked up from the screen. Becca Styles? Could this little town have more than one Becca? Probably not. And with the small population it wasn’t that strange that Becca would be quoted. Especially if she and Ellen were involved in the theater together.
The article finished with a promise for up-to-date news, and Casey moved on to the next.
FORMER HOMEMAKER EMPLOYEE
DIES BY OWN HAND
When HomeMaker CEO Karl Willems performed last December’s lay-off of more than fifty employees, he knew it would be rough. What he didn’t expect was for one of his former workers to commit suicide. “Ellen Schneider was a wonderful woman, and a hard worker,” he said. “I always thought she would be one to land on her feet.”
Unfortunately, such was not the case. Overwhelmed by her climbing debts, lack of employment, and the pressure of raising two children on her own, Ellen Schneider, a thirty-one-year-old single mother, of Clymer, Ohio, allegedly took her own life two mornings ago while her children attended school. “It’s a sad, sad thing,” Chief Denny Reardon said at this morning’s press conference. “This town has been through some rough months, and this will only make it harder.”
