I remember. Del said he’d asked her out soon after she’d moved in the beginning of the year. So January, maybe. Not sure that would work.”
“What are you thinking? Spill.”
“Well, what if she was in this with Brandon? She obviously hadn’t made her apartment a home. There was nothing there she couldn’t leave behind. Nothing of sentimental value—at least that I saw. She and Brandon could have been fleecing the gullible folks, always ready to take off. But I really can’t see it. I just didn’t get…criminal vibes from her.”
“Criminal vibes. What, are you psychic now?”
“You know what I mean. You can just tell about some people. She had such a good feel about her.”
“Yeah, for that less than a day you knew her.” Death frowned, brow wrinkling, then smiled. “You’re wrong.”
“She really was a crook?”
“No, she really wasn’t. You’re wrong about her and Brandon.”
“How do you know?”
“Because she knew Richie. Remember? That first day, she told you he was a sweetheart, but he just didn’t fit here.”
“So?”
“How would she know there would even be an instructor job here for Brandon? It’s not like those jobs are always popping up, as you know from your search last week. And the job was filled already, by Richie.”
“She and Brandon could’ve done their research. Found a place where the instructor was a loser, and then Andrea gives Sissy a recommendation to hire Brandon when Richie’s gone.”
“No. Too convoluted. It wouldn’t work. I think you just have to admit it. She was not a con artist.”
“Well, good. I hope you’re right.” She closed her eyes.
“Um, Casey?”
Casey jerked her head up. “What?”
“You fell asleep just then. I think you might want to go to bed, or you’ll get a crick in your neck.”
“So thoughtful of you.”
“Actually, I just hate having you fall asleep in the middle of me talking.”
Casey stacked the folders and shoved them into the vent, with her other things.
Death watched. “You do realize you’re completely screwing up the ventilation in this apartment?”
“I’m not here enough to care.”
“True.”
Casey stumbled to her bedroom and crawled under the covers. Her eyes opened halfway. “Wasn’t I supposed to go somewhere? Or meet somebody? I think I promised…”
She fell asleep before Death could even answer.
Chapter Twenty-four
“Wakey, wakey!” Death stood beside Casey’s bed in a velour sweat suit the color of egg yolks.
“Oh, my God,” Casey said. “What are you wearing?”
Death looked down. “Don’t like it? It was all the rage in the seventies.”
“Well, get it out of this century! Argh!” Casey rolled out the other side of the bed. When she turned around, Death wore modern red and white warm-ups, with dark blue accents.
“Better?”
“Much.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Thank you for waking me up in time for my class.”
“Oh. Yeah. That.” Casey used the bathroom, then went to the kitchen for some yogurt.
“You’ll fit right in with the Land of the Dead class today,” Death said. “You look like hell.”
“Thank you. So very much.”
Death beamed.
Casey put on some clothes and tromped down the service stairs to the aerobics room.
“Uh-oh,” Death said.
Krystal sat alone on the floor by the door. Casey stopped outside the stairwell, and Krystal looked up.
“Wow,” Death said. “And here I thought you looked bad.”
Krystal did look terrible, like she hadn’t slept or eaten in a week. She had bags under her eyes, and her hair draped in greasy strands against her face and shoulders. Even her voluptuous body lay hidden underneath wrinkled clothes and despair.
Casey prepared herself, waiting to see what kind of attack she would need to defend against—verbal or physical. She wasn’t worried about the physical damage this depressing Krystal could do, but Casey needed to be careful not to hurt the other woman if she came at her.
Krystal lurched to her feet. “Daisy. Daisy, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I…” Her face crumpled, and tears leaked out of her eyes and down her cheeks. She stumbled forward, hands outstretched, snot running from her nose.
“Now that is really not attractive,” Death said.
Casey had to agree, and stepped out of the way of the weeping woman. Krystal kept moving, ending up against the wall, where she rested her forehead, her hands spread out above her like she was surrendering to the police. Casey felt like giving the cops a call to take advantage of the moment, but Krystal hadn’t actually done anything illegal. Just malicious. And probably out of grief.
“I’m sorry,” Krystal mumbled. “I was just…I’m just…” Slowly, she turned to rest her back against the stairwell door. “I can’t believe she’s gone. Ooooooh.”