“Don’t mock me. I remember everybody who goes to the other side. Tons of people go from down here in the glorious Sunshine State, and they’re each up here in the old brain trust. Forty-seven people from Raceda last month, and none of them was named Richie Miller or Brandon Greer. The last person to go from the Flamingo complex was five weeks ago and that was absolutely an age thing. Nothing suspicious at all.”
Casey finished up her fruit plate. “So that means these guys fell off the map on their own.”
“Or they were told to fall off the map.” Death shrugged. “But what does it matter? They’re gone, you’re in. Why and how they left isn’t your concern.”
“You’re right. It’s just…weird. And I’m especially curious, seeing how I’ve just made myself fall off the map.”
“Then it seems to me you’re in the right place.”
“Yeah,” Casey said, feeling suddenly content. “I guess I am.”
Chapter Seven
“So would you like furnished, or unfurnished?” Maria held a key in either hand.
“Furnished, definitely,” Casey said.
“Seriously?” Death said. “This is your chance to have really nice stuff. Make a statement. Have an actual style.”
It was mid-afternoon, after Casey’s BODYPUMP and water aerobics classes. Sissy had shown up for BODYPUMP, giving up halfway through, but Casey saw no one else she knew. She had enjoyed the older ladies in the pool, and they’d seemed to like the workout, even though she hadn’t had a chance to benefit from Laurie’s expertise. Several men had been in the water, as well, doing their own independent laps at the other end of the pool, along with a couple of women. A lifeguard watched from an elevated chair with an air of boredom.
Casey’s next class was at eight, when she would teach kick-boxing, and following that would be an abs class. She was glad she’d kept up her fitness as well as she had while on the road, or she would have been dying.
Maria typed “Daisy Gray” into the computer and printed out some papers for Casey to sign. Maria’s desk was impeccably neat, filled only with office items, papers, and her computer. A small photo of two children was taped to the corner of the computer monitor.
“Your kids?” Casey asked.
Maria didn’t look up. “Yes.”
“How old are they?”
“Six and four.” Maria held out the papers and a pen. “Okay. It’s all yours. The apartment you saw yesterday. You’re responsible for phone hook-up, whether you want a landline, or a cell, or both. Utilities are taken care of, and trash goes in the chute at the end of the hall. No pets, no smoking, and no painting or holes in the walls without permission.”
“Got it.”
Maria glanced toward Sissy’s closed office door, then leaned forward. “I’m sure you’ll find it, and you’re not really supposed to use it, but the previous tenants found that the service stairs, which are next to the apartment, are the quickest route to the fitness floor. If you prefer an elevator, the service one is across the hall. Just don’t tell Mrs. Williams I mentioned it.”
“The previous tenants? Were they the fitness instructors before me?”
“Yes.” Maria straightened some papers on her desk and raised her voice back to its usual volume. “Mrs. Williams put up a sign saying personal training would resume tomorrow, and that there are some slots for new clients. Here’s the schedule so far.” She added it to the stack of papers Casey had already accumulated, along with her contract, her rental agreement, and her benefits package. “So you’ve got a few hours, if you want to move in.”
“I’ll do that.”
“You need help with a truck, or carrying anything?”
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.”