injury care and relief. The Internet was serviced by high-speed wireless, but the search engine’s cache had been completely emptied.
“Guess Brandon didn’t want us knowing what he was looking at,” Death said.
“Or someone else didn’t want us knowing.”
“True.”
There wasn’t a whole lot left to search through, so Casey moved on to the desk itself. There was the usual office-type detritus in the top drawer—paper clips, Post-It notes, rubber bands—a few almost completely-used-up rolls of athletic tape, and some Band-Aids. The second drawer held paper and not much else, and the third drawer, the one big enough to hold files, was locked.
Casey leaned back and looked around. “See a key anywhere?”
“That top drawer, probably.”
But it wasn’t there. Casey got up and opened the wall cupboard. The shelves were filled with first aid equipment, towels, and empty water bottles. But no key.
“Curiouser and curiouser,” Death said.
Casey went back to the desk and felt around the bottom of the top drawer, in case the key had been taped there, but it was smooth. There was no rug to hide anything under, and the only thing on the wall was a mirrored medicine chest that held only ibuprofen, Ben-Gay, and a box of tampons. The whirlpool was empty of both water and keys.
“You can just kick the drawer open,” Death said. “You’ve done that before.”
“And about killed my foot.”
“Okay, so a letter opener.”
“That doesn’t work in real life, although it looks like somebody did try. There are scratch marks all over the lock.”
Death swooped down for a better look. “Hmm. You positive no one got in?”
“If so, he was able to lock it after himself.”
“Or herself.”
Casey jiggled the drawer one more time before giving up. She’d have to ask Sissy if she knew what had happened to the key, because if the drawer was locked, that could mean there was worthwhile stuff inside it. Which wouldn’t really make sense, because why would Brandon leave anything valuable behind?
A loud bang sounded in the men’s locker room. Casey jumped, then glared at Death. “Thanks for the heads up.”
“I’ll see who it is.” Death was gone, then back in an instant. “It’s your infant loverboy from personal training earlier today.”
“Dylan?”
“And he’s not alone.”
“Weight training friend?”
Death laughed. “Hardly.”
Casey waited for details, but they weren’t forthcoming. “Well?” she finally said.
“You’re not going to liiiiiike it.” Death’s voice had gone all sing-songy.
“Will you just tell me?”
Death smirked, and walked around the room, hips swaying.
“Oh, no. He’s got a girl in there?”
“And not just any old girl.” Death looked at her meaningfully. “This one’s hotter than hot.”
“It’s Krystal?”
“Ding, ding. You win a new car!”
“I don’t want a new car. I want people to use locker rooms for…locker room stuff.”
Death patted her shoulder. “You really have lived a sheltered life, haven’t you? Have you not seen Bull Durham?”
“But Andrea just died today. And her best friend is doing that?”
“Need I remind you once again of your little assignation in the back of the theater just two weeks ago?”
“No. And it wasn’t an assignation. It was…panic.”
“Um-hmm.”
“And Reuben hadn’t died that day.”
“Right.”
“And Krystal wasn’t married to Andrea.”
Another loud bang, like something hitting lockers, practically made the walls shake. Death giggled and pushed through the door, leaving Casey with only a back and legs to look at.
“Peeping Tom.” Casey threw a pencil at Death’s rear, but it went right through and hit the door.
“Uh-oh,” Death said, and pulled out of the wall.
“What?”
The doorknob rattled, and something thumped against the door itself. She could hear the mumble of voices, and the sound of a key in the lock.
“Oh, no,” Casey said. “They’re not coming in—”
The door flew open, and Dylan and Krystal practically fell into the room, clothes half off, hands and mouths all over the place.
Casey sent a panicked glance toward Death, who was having a grand time.
Casey took a deep breath and put on her teacher voice. “Okay, people! Freeze!”
Dylan and Krystal jerked apart, showing Casey more than she ever wanted to see, so she grabbed a couple of towels and threw them at the couple. Krystal caught one and held it up to her chest. Dylan let his fall, and hastily zipped up his pants. His upper body told the story of his workouts, and Casey couldn’t help but appreciate the view.
“What are you doing in here?” Krystal screeched.
“Well,” Casey said, “last time I heard, this was my office.”
“Not for long.”
“Oh, I don’t know. From what Sissy told me this afternoon your petition wasn’t really catching on.”