Dying Echo A Grim Reaper Mystery - By Judy Clemens Page 0,40
What?”
“People can find things out, even if you don’t tell them.”
“You mean like how you figured out who I was?”
He shrugged.
“But you had my ID. I’d left it in my bag. It’s not like it was hard.”
“I knew before that.”
“I don’t believe you. How?”
“Remember? I told you. Your first name. Some Internet searches.”
“But we don’t know her real fir—” But she did. In fact, she knew Alicia’s entire name. She just hadn’t considered a computer, which was dumb, seeing how Death had been parading around with every technology known to humankind. “You have something we can use to look online?”
“Sure. I have an iPad in the car. I’ll get it.”
Soon he was back, and Casey had a dilemma. How was she supposed to look this up with Eric watching? She couldn’t possibly explain to him how she knew Alicia’s real name.
“So I think we’ve gotten to whatever it is you’re not telling me.” Eric’s mouth twitched into a smile.
“I don’t know how to tell you.” Again, Death was nowhere to be found when she needed advice. Not that she ever really wanted the advice Death had to offer.
Eric sat quietly and waited.
“I know her real name.”
“And you haven’t told law enforcement because…”
“They would lock me up.”
“What did you do to get it?”
“It’s not what I’ve done. It’s how I know. And they wouldn’t lock me up for being a criminal. It would be because they’d think I’m nuts.”
“Whereas you’re telling me because I already know you are?”
“You have to wonder, don’t you?”
“I’ve seen nuttier.” A shadow crossed his face, and Casey knew he was thinking of three weeks earlier, when a woman crazy with greed and a man with grief ended up a bloody mess. He shook himself, and the shadow left his face. “So what’s her name?”
“That’s what you want to know? Not how I found out?”
“For now. You’ll tell me more when you want to.”
She hesitated.
“Come on.” He nudged her knee with his own. “What is it?”
“It’s just, I don’t think you’ll believe me.”
“No, I mean, what’s her name?”
“Elizabeth Mann. Two ‘n’s.”
He typed the name into his iPad and seventeen thousand hits came up. The daughter of Thomas Mann, a research physicist, a holocaust survivor, a lawyer, and a flutist. Plus scores and scores of other people, none of them the late Alicia McManus. There were a few women who looked a little like her, but on close examination were far from the person they sought.
“Any other suggestions?” Eric said.
Casey leaned back in her chair and stretched out her feet, accidentally bumping Eric. She pulled away. “It’s time to head to the restaurant. You up for driving?”
“Sure. You up for riding?” Three weeks ago Casey had been right on the edge about being in moving vehicles. She just hadn’t done it much since the accident, preferring instead to walk or ride a bike, or even hop a train. But there came a time when there was nothing else to be done. Once over the first hurdle—kind of like that first step upstairs—she was able to ride in, and even drive, cars and trucks. She didn’t love it, but she knew it was the way things had to be.
“I’ll manage. Thanks for breakfast.”
“You’re welcome.”
She looked across the table at his open, friendly, handsome face, and felt a sudden pang. What was she doing in her house—Reuben’s house—alone with another man? She stood up, making the chair screech. “Let’s go.”
She followed Eric out to the car. Death leaned against the rear door, jabbing at something on a Kindle Fire. “Die, you stupid pig! Die!”
Casey peered at the screen, which was filled with colorful exploding birds and crashing wooden structures.
“Something wrong?” Eric asked.
“Nothing I can explain.”
They drove to The Slope, Casey hyper-aware of Eric’s hand on his knee. Really. What was wrong with her? She’d shared a passionate kiss with a different man in Florida only days before, simply because he reminded her of Reuben. Now, here she was, feeling all tingly over a guy who was nothing like him, who she happened to almost sleep with a few weeks earlier. She had to get her hormones under control.
Death groaned and threw the Kindle at the window, where it exploded in a cloud of mist before it could shatter the glass. “Those pigs. I hate them!”
They pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant and Eric wrinkled his nose. “Definitely glad we ate at your place.”
They went in, Death following, still grumbling about the game. Casey caught Bailey’s eye, where she