Flowers for Her Grave - By Judy Clemons Page 0,37

I realized it wasn’t.”

“So even you think Krystal deserves killing more than Andrea.”

“I didn’t say that! I just thought if anyone would be attacked, it would be Krystal. Jealous women. Boyfriends. Who knows? How many people said things about her yesterday, and they hardly even know me? Sissy. Laurie. Even Del. Krystal was hard to ignore, and Andrea had that chummy feeling, rather than the…” She waved her hand.

“Sex goddess-y feeling?”

“Exactly.” Casey dropped her arm back over her face.

“You do realize you have personal training in less than an hour, right?”

Casey groaned. “I have to sleep.”

“Go ahead. I’ll wake you when it’s time.”

“You won’t let me oversleep?”

“I promise.”

Fifty minutes later, Casey felt a cold breeze on her face.

“Rise and shine,” Death said, grinning from an inch away.

Casey shut her eyes again. “A little space, please.”

“What, no thank you? No appreciation for getting you going?”

“Fine. Thank you. Did you make coffee?”

“You know I can’t do that.”

Casey eased herself up, her head fuzzy. “I don’t know if I’m going to make it.”

“Two sessions, then you can come up for another nap during the time you would be teaching aerobics.”

Casey chugged a Gatorade and put on her shoes. “If I faint, don’t think I’m dead and carry me away.”

“But I thought you wanted to come over.”

“I do. I just want to actually be dead when I do it.”

Casey grabbed her personal training schedule and stumbled down the steps to the weight room, where she purposely did not look to see if there was an obvious spot where the missing weight—the one that had killed Andrea—should be resting. She couldn’t keep her eyes from the entire area, however, and the first person she saw was the tall, dark woman from the lobby and pool. She lay on a bench, pumping a massive amount of iron. Sweat rolled from her face, and muscles bulged in her shoulders and arms. Casey caught her eye in the mirror and was about to walk over when a young man stepped in front of her.

“Dylan,” he said, tossing a towel over his shoulder. He appeared to be in his early twenties, and couldn’t hide the smirk from his face. “You’re the trainer?”

“That’s me. Daisy. I know I look like hell, but I had a bad night.”

He went suddenly serious. “I heard. You found Andrea?”

“Yes. Did you know her?”

“Sure. Know her friend better, though.”

Casey wanted to smack the smug look from his face, but figured that probably wasn’t the best way to start their training. “Come on. Let’s begin at the cardio equipment. How about you hop on the treadmill?”

“I like the elliptical better.”

“We’ll get to that later. You can tell me about your present routine while you’re warming up.”

With no further argument, he stepped onto the machine and began walking. Casey took another look toward the free weights. The woman was gone. Disappointed, Casey turned her attention back to Dylan, and they got lost in the talk of goals and repetitions and exercises. After five minutes of warm-up, she led him to the free weights. It took only a little time for her to assess his fitness and make some changes to his routine. In-between sets she tried to sound casual as she asked him questions.

“So, how long did you know Andrea?”

He swiped his towel over his head. “I don’t know. Six months or so. That’s when I moved here. But like I said, I didn’t really know her all that well. Just from hanging around Krystal.” He got back on the bench and Casey stood over him, her hands out to spot the weights, should he falter doing his presses.

“What do you know about her? Boyfriends? Family? Anything?”

Dylan grunted as he lifted the bar. “She’s from the west coast somewhere. Washington, maybe?”

“I think Sissy said Oregon.”

“Yeah. That sounds right.” He pushed the bar up again, veins popping out on his neck.

“Ever see her hang out with anybody?”

“Just Krystal. No regular guys. You know, Krystal’s really the one to ask about Andrea.”

Except right now she hated Casey’s guts. “You still dating Krystal?”

Dylan let out a laugh as he strained to lift the bar upward. “You don’t date Krystal.”

“What do you mean?”

“You have the privilege of going out with her when she says yes. If she likes what happens, you might get to do it again. But you have to expect she’ll be doing it with other guys in-between.”

“Doing what, exactly? Sex?”

He grimaced, and set the bar on the stand. He swung his legs so he was sitting on the

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