Flowers for Her Grave - By Judy Clemons Page 0,87

confusion, and then her face cleared. “Oh, yes. Please, come in.”

Casey shut the door and went to sit beside Mrs. Parker. “How can I help you?”

“They’re telling us we can’t take Andrea home. They won’t let us have her.”

“The police have to finish their investigation first. Once they’re satisfied they have everything, they’ll release her.”

“But we want to go home. We want to take her home.” Her voice was quiet and thin.

“I know. They’re doing everything they can.”

Mrs. Parker sagged back into the sofa. Mr. Parker hadn’t yet moved.

Casey cleared her throat. “Have you remembered her fiancé’s name yet?”

Mrs. Parker shook her head slowly. “He should come. He should be here, shouldn’t he?”

If there was a ‘he,’ he definitely should.

Casey patted Mrs. Parker’s knee, then got up and went back to Andrea’s bedroom. Where would Andrea keep something with his name? And why was it hidden? She was beginning to think the whole fiancé thing was just a story for her parents. benefit. Casey looked again in the closet, under the bed, and between the mattress and the box springs. She flicked on the bedside lamp and opened the drawer of the nightstand. Nothing but an old devotional book and an extra box of tissues. She slid the drawer shut and hesitated, studying the top of the stand. A fine layer of dust covered the exposed wood, but on the side closest to the bed lay a line which appeared less dusty. The bare spot was about five inches across. Like a photo frame. Casey let out a breath. If there had been a photo by her bed, and now it was gone, that said something. Something big. There were still pictures of Andrea’s family in the apartment, so there couldn’t be a secret there. The missing photo had to be of her mystery man.

She went back out to the living room, took the family photo off the wall, and showed it to Andrea’s mother. “All family?”

“Yes. That’s David and me, of course, and Andrea’s brothers, and…and Andrea.”

Casey hung the photo back up and went to the kitchen. The refrigerator held the same pictures as the night before, which all showed family members.

Back in the living room, she took one last look between the magazines, and under the books. The books. She checked the bookmark in the top one. A receipt from the grocery store. The next book had a folded tissue. Casey picked up the third one, a paperback romance. She pulled out the scrap paper. It was a handwritten note.

My love,

You are an angel for understanding. Give it just a few more weeks, and it will be your turn. She is so grateful, and I don’t want to leave her before things are taken care of. I’ll be in touch.

With all my love,

Richie

Chapter Twenty-seven

Casey went cold. Richie? Andrea was involved with Richie? The “sweetheart” instructor who hadn’t known anything about his job? Who couldn’t show his face anywhere near or Sissy would take him to court? Not Brandon, the stud con-man? But Richie had been gone for…she didn’t know exactly how long he’d been gone. Casey looked up, hoping to see Death to compare reactions, but Death was—for once—nowhere to be seen.

Casey’s fingers shook. Everything she’d been told about Richie was that he had taken off, never to be heard from again. That if he did show up, Sissy would have him thrown in jail, or would take him to court, or whatever.

A few more weeks, he said in the note. A few weeks from when? From when he disappeared? From much, much later, when everyone else thought he’d disappeared for good?

And then she remembered, the one time she’d talked to Andrea about the previous instructors. She had said, “Richie is a sweetheart.” Not was. Is. Casey hadn’t picked up on it at the time, but now it stuck out like Death at a baby shower.

Casey smoothed the note out on her leg. “Mrs. Parker, does the name Richie mean anything to you?”

Mrs. Parker’s face remained impassive. “No.” She brightened. “Is that Andrea’s fiancé?”

“I don’t know. I just…I found this note.” She held it out.

Mrs. Parker read it, her brow furrowing. “What does he mean? Once what is taken care of?”

“I don’t know. May I keep the note?”

Mrs. Parker absently handed it back over, the spark disappearing from her eyes.

Casey stood. “I need to talk to someone. I’ll be in touch, okay? Are you all right here? Do you need anything?”

She got no response, and left them to

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