took the time to look, she saw also that he was wearing khakis and a dress shirt, and smelled like a fresh dose of cologne. Maybe a whole quart of it.
“Dylan, I don’t think Krystal would like it very much if you were wining and dining the enemy.”
“Screw Krystal.” He blushed. “I mean, forget about her. She’s sort of, well, gone off the deep end. She’s outside Sissy’s office right now, hoping to convince the family that you killed Andrea.”
“The family’s here already?”
“No. Krystal’s just waiting. She wants to get to them first. Maria’s trying to make her go away, and even threatened to call security. I only know this because they were making quite a scene when I got home from work. Everybody was sort of all jammed up in the lobby, watching.”
“So you thought you’d get me out of the way by taking me out to dinner, in case Krystal got to the Parkers?”
“Well, kind of. They might be crazy enough to believe her.” He shifted uneasily. “But I also thought going out might be…fun.” He grinned sheepishly, his cheeks and throat going an even deeper pink.
“Aww,” Death said. “Look at that puppy dog face.”
“It would be nice,” Casey said. “But I’ve already got plans.”
His face fell. “Really? Who is he?”
“Not a he.”
“Then a she?”
“What else would it be?”
“A supernatural?” Death said.
Dylan brightened. “Can I come?”
“No.”
He drooped again. “Why not?”
“Because I think Tamille would eat you alive.”
He blanched. “That huge Amazon woman? She just about did one time.”
“Really? What happened?”
“She…” He looked away. “It was nothing. I was using the weights and she wanted them. No big deal. I just try to stay out of her way, now, so she can’t capture me and grind my balls into tiny little pieces.”
Casey laughed. “Another time, okay, Dylan? And thanks.”
“Tomorrow?”
“What about tomorrow? Our next personal training session?”
“It’s Friday. And yeah, we have another session in the morning. But what I meant was that in the evening I’ll take you to this really nice Cuban restaurant on the other side of town. It’s a hole in the wall, but it’s authentic. They make killer tamales.”
Casey shook her head. “Okay.”
He pumped his fist.
“But listen, Dylan. It’s just dinner, okay? And I’ll pay my own way.”
“But—”
“Dinner. Dutch. Or I don’t go.”
His shoulders slumped. “Fine. I suppose you want to just meet me there, too?”
“You already know where I live, Dylan. Meeting someone at a restaurant is a way to keep them away from home before you know them.”
“So we can go together?”
“I’ll meet you in the lobby. What time?”
“Do you have to get back for class?”
“Nope. Friday night is off. So I’m all—” She was going to say, ‘all yours,’ but stopped herself, before she confused the poor boy any further. “I’m free for the evening.”
“Great. Six-thirty? Lobby?”
“Sounds good. Thanks.” She closed her door behind her. “But now I have to get going.”
“To meet Wonder Woman. Can I at least get your phone number, just in case?”
“In case what?”
“I don’t know. In case I get tickets to something, and want to switch dinner to a concert.”
Casey pulled out her phone, found her number, and gave it to him. After a few seconds, her own phone rang.
“There,” Dylan said. “Now you have my number, too.”
Great. Now she had a detective and a sex-starved twenty-something in her Contact List. She was moving up in the world.
Casey headed for the staff stairway. “See you tomorrow, Dylan.” She left him in the hallway, the rose drooping from his hand.
“You’re so hard on the poor kid,” Death said. “He’s only trying to be nice.”
“No, he’s trying to get in my pants.”
“Well, maybe he thinks that’s nice.”
Casey laughed. “At least I don’t have to worry about that with Tamille.”
“That you know of.”
“True.”
She exited the building through a back door and circled around, not wanting to meet Krystal in the lobby. When she got to the front, there was a taxi letting off a middle-aged couple.
“Andrea’s parents,” Death said.
Casey slowed, and stopped in the shadow of a palm tree to watch. The woman was leaning over the man, who still sat on the back seat of the taxi. He grabbed the door and pulled himself up, the woman with her hand under his elbow.
“What’s wrong with him?” Death said.
“Grief.” Casey recognized it. Remembered it. The feeling that you couldn’t even stand, couldn’t lift your foot to take a step. Couldn’t raise your head to look in front of you. Andrea’s mother was moving through the grief in a different way.