earlier.”
“You’re going to dust now?”
She opened the box and dumped out the rags to discover a Ziploc bag underneath. There were two things inside. One was a wrapped candy bar called a Chick-o-Sticks. The description under the name said it was a “Crunchy Peanut Butter and Toasted Coconut Candy.”
“Ricky is a secret candy stasher?” Death said. “Was this a favorite or something?”
Casey shook her head. “Never heard of it.”
The second item was even more curious. It was a biography of Carol Burnett.
Casey squatted and slumped against the wall. “I don’t get it.”
“You will.”
“You do already? Tell me!”
“I have no idea. But I have faith in your power of deduction.”
Casey was ready to give a smart reply when the doorbell rang.
Chapter Eleven
“Uh-oh,” Death said.
Casey held her breath. Perhaps if she pretended she wasn’t there, the person would go away. But less than ten seconds later the doorbell rang again, followed by loud knocking. Death disappeared for a moment, then returned, trying not to laugh.
“She knows you’re in here.”
“Who?”
“Ricky’s neighbor, from across the street. And she is a picture, let me tell you.”
“Have I met her?”
“Can’t tell you that, sweetheart. But if you did, it was before you and I started hanging out together. Here.” Death pulled out a digital camera and showed Casey a photo of a very colorful woman on Ricky’s front step. As she watched, the photo moved, presenting an image of the woman leaning over the side rail of the front steps to try to see in the front windows, as Death had at Casey’s mom’s.
Casey sighed. “I guess I’d better go see what she wants before she falls on her noggin.”
She stashed the candy and biography back in the dustrag box and stopped in the office to put the Narnia series back together. She left the photo and the slip of paper with clichés in her pocket. The doorbell kept chiming all the while, alternated with vigorous knocking. Casey opened the door during one of the lulls to receive a view of the woman’s rather large backside as she again bent over the rail to see in the window. The woman almost toppled over when she heard the door, but righted herself and turned to Casey with her hands outstretched. Casey recoiled. The woman’s fake eyelashes were so huge and thick it looked like she had spiders on her face. Her hair had been dyed a brilliant orange, and her lipstick was the color of a ripe tomato. Her caftan-like blouse-dress thing was a mixture of the brightest colors imaginable, and her feet were bare, with several rings on brightly painted toes. It was like a circus has landed on the doorstep.
“Are you the cleaning lady?” she asked Casey.
Death laughed.
“No,” Casey said.
“Oh, I thought…” the woman gestured at Casey’s pale blue warm-ups and the dustrag she’d stuck in her pocket during her search. Casey had to admit she saw her point.
“Police?” the woman tried again.
“No, I’m—”
“Another girlfriend?”
“I’m Ricky’s sister.”
The woman stopped short. “His sister? He has a sister?”
“I haven’t been around much lately. I don’t live here.”
“And where do you live?”
Casey frowned. “Who are you?”
The woman clapped a hand to her mouth and laughed uproariously. “You must think I’m terrible. I am. I’m awful. I’m also Geraldine, and I live over there. I moved in last year, came from Vegas, can you imagine?” She pointed a long, crimson fingernail toward the house across the street, where pink flamingoes and oversized whirligigs filled the small lawn. The house would have been normal otherwise, except for the bright orange shutters and the life-sized buffalo statue in between the house and garage. “I’ve just been devastated about what’s happened, and wanted to know if there’s anything I can do to help. That’s why I came over. There hasn’t been anybody here since the police—those horrible people!—left yesterday. They took things out, you know. Ricky’s computer and his phone and sheets and who knows what else. Like they really think he could have done anything to that sweet girl.”
“You knew her?”
Geraldine opened her mouth to say something else, but then stopped and peered over Casey’s shoulder into the house.
“You know what she wants,” Death said. “Might as well go with it, if you’re thinking of getting any information out of her. If she has some, she’ll share it if the circumstances are right. Which basically means she needs to feel a part of things.”
Casey wanted to shut the door on the woman’s face, but instead she said, “Would you like to