Dying Echo A Grim Reaper Mystery - By Judy Clemens Page 0,16

good for you.’ I didn’t hold it against her, though. We did fine here, but it’s not like we were close.” She messed with the salt shaker. “Ricky was out of her league. I told him so, too, whenever he stopped by and she wasn’t here. Or even if she was, but, like, in the back. He should have found somebody better.”

“Like you?”

Her chin jutted out. “What? You don’t think I’m good enough for him? Not like her?”

“Didn’t say that.”

“Oh, I get it. You want him for yourself. Well, I was the one who was here first, not you, so you can just—”

“He’s my brother.”

She paused, her mouth hanging open. “What? Your brother? Oh, gosh, Sorry. That’s kind of gross, isn’t it? Me thinking you wanted to hook up with him. Anyway, unlike some people, like Alicia, at least I tell the truth. I don’t lie about—” She stopped.

“Don’t lie about what?”

She shook her head again, like it was an automatic reflex. “Look. This restaurant, they don’t ask a lot of questions, okay? People like me, I do all right. I have a real driver’s license, and folks in town actually know me. Other guys, like our dishwasher, or even the janitors, they don’t always have the right stuff. The Slope helps them out. But then Alicia comes along…” She picked at a dried glob of ketchup on the table.

“And?”

“I don’t know. Her story, it’s all wrong. She’s just this white woman from ‘out of town,’ she says. Looking for a job while she ‘gets her head together.’” She rolled her eyes. “Whatever that’s supposed to mean. Says she’s trying to stay under the radar just for a while. So Karl, he’s the manager, he says it’s no problem, she can just fill out what she wants on the application. See, we had another waitress quit—ran off with some ski instructor from up the hill—and Karl was freaking out. Girls don’t want to come work here. They’d rather work across town with all the rich folks.” She went back to picking at the ketchup.

“You don’t want to work up there?”

“Nah. Rich folks can be a real pain in the ass. Anyway, she comes in here all quiet and hot, and Karl signs her up. Just like that. No questions asked.”

“And you think she lied about herself?”

“I’m sure of it. The first time I called her Alicia I had to say it like five times before she answered me. And another time…” She lowered her voice and leaned forward again. “She was dealing with this old lady who comes in here, who couldn’t hear a bomb go off in her underwear, and it was taking her, like, forever just to take the woman’s order. I went into her locker and looked through her purse. And guess what?”

Casey sighed. “What?”

“No license. No credit cards. Nothing with her name on it. Just cash and chap stick and some lame picture.”

“Picture of what?”

“I don’t know. Some old guy. I didn’t look real close because I heard her coming.”

She looked at Casey all knowingly, like Casey should be able to read her mind.

“What?” Casey said.

“Didn’t you hear me? She had zero papers with her ID. If Alicia McManus was her real name, where was her stuff? Driver’s license? Bank card? Heck, even a note or a frequent customer card or something. She wasn’t only flying under the radar, she’d completely dropped off the map.”

Which Casey happened to understand.

“Bailey!” A man was calling. Karl the Manager, Casey assumed. He leaned over the cook counter that separated the kitchen from the rest of the room and was pointing to a couple who had come into the restaurant and stood uncertainly at the front door.

Bailey pushed herself out of the bench seat, her lack of excitement oozing from every pore.

“Bailey…”

Casey sat so Bailey blocked the view of her manager. She lowered her voice.

“You want to help me get Ricky out of jail, right?”

“Sure. Don’t know what I can do, though.”

“Think you can get me a copy of Alicia’s employee file? The fake application and whatever else?”

Bailey’s eyes did the swivel thing, and she gave a little smile. “I’m sure I can. Not right now, though.”

“That’s fine. I’ll come back. It’ll have to be later, though. I’m going to see Ricky this afternoon.”

“Try tomorrow, or later tonight. I get off at eight. Karl will have to leave at some point to go to the store or bank or some other place. I’ll try then. And give Ricky a hug