another officer, wrist bent over the steering wheel as he watched her walk. A few seconds later he was gone, but Casey could feel his eyes between her shoulder blades, a reflection from his rearview mirror.
“See what I mean?” Death said. “That could’ve been something to see.”
Casey peeked at the game Death was playing. “What is that?”
“It’s called Gardener’s Row. You plant flowers, or vegetables, and try to keep them watered, weeded, and bug-free.”
“And you think I’m boring?”
“Hey. Nature is good stuff. And how often do I get to actually grow things?” Death made a face as the game emitted a sound of failure, a crumbling, sucking sound of plants dying and vegetables decomposing. “Unfortunately, I’ve got a rotten thumb.”
“At least you can use your scythe to cut down the stalks when they’re dead.”
“Har, har. You’re a stitch.”
Casey walked up the library steps, moving aside to let a mother with two young children pass. The older child, probably about five years old, craned his neck to see what Death was playing. Recognizing the gardening game, he wrinkled his nose and followed his mother, who gave no sign of seeing anyone but Casey.
“See?” Casey said. “Even little kids know your game is lame.”
Death sat on the bench. “Well, then, let them play the violent stuff. I get plenty of that in my line of work.”
Casey left Death to weeding and entered the library. Stacy greeted her and hooked her up with her usual computer station. She opened the browser and checked her e-mail, remembering her promise to Ricky to check it daily. There were two actual e-mails among the spam. The first, from Ricky: Mom’s fine. Nobody’s been there. The realtor’s showing your house this afternoon. Hope they hate it. Sent the papers to your lawyer. He called this morning, about Pegasus coming around. Call soon, sis, okay? Love, Ricky. P.S. I gave Jewel a call. She was happy to hear from me.
Casey shook her head. He knew what he was doing, calling that awful girl. If anything could get Casey back home…
The second e-mail was from Don, her lawyer. Casey. Your family is fine. Ricky seems annoyed with Pegasus, but not threatened. Your mother has so far been left alone. Got the papers from Ricky. Let me know where to send them, and they’ll be off.
Casey sat back, looking blankly at the words before closing the screen and typing “HomeMaker dryer door latch” into the search engine. She was rewarded with a long list of places to buy door latches, explanations from home repair gurus on how to replace them, and instructions to fix a door if it isn’t latching correctly. She clicked on one of the latter. The basic answer was to put a new latch in, something just about anyone could do on their own. One person said they’d started slapping a large magnet over the door handle to keep it closed during the cycle, and one went so far as to wonder if she should just get a new dryer rather than mess with it.
HomeMaker dryers, along with their parts, were all listed and available. Same latches she and Eric had seen on his computer. Same dryers.
Nowhere could she find anything to indicate Ellen’s latch had ever existed. But it did. And Jack was sure it was a HomeMaker product.
Giving up on that avenue, Casey ran a search for the Pegasus car accident from two weeks earlier. There were only a few hits, a couple about the investigation of the accident—which was inconclusive—and the arrangements for the man’s closed-casket funeral. Casey e-mailed all of the articles to Don, in case he hadn’t seen them.
Her family’s accident had remained inconclusive, as well. No matter what her investigators tried, they couldn’t seem to find the one piece of evidence that would nail Pegasus. She knew it was the manufacturer’s fault. They knew it was their fault. Why else would they have performed the recall? But there was no way to make them accountable for Casey’s accident if they could run rings around Casey’s team, and as long as they had the witnesses to say Reuben had been drinking beer the night of the accident. Even if it hadn’t been anywhere close enough to make him drunk, or even approaching the legal limit. With his body destroyed there was no way to check, so it was Pegasus’ innuendo against her word.
They only thing for sure in the whole matter was that Casey’s family was dead.
Casey clicked out of the browser and sat for a moment, staring at the blank screen. Finally, she shook herself, retrieved her driver’s license from Stacy, and went outside. Two teenaged boys sat bent over a book on the bench where Death had been waiting. Casey took a peek at their book as she went past, but couldn’t see what they were reading, other than the colorful illustrations of a graphic novel.
At least they weren’t playing some awful electronic gardening game.
Death was nowhere to be seen, so Casey made her way down the street to Home Sweet Home, where she retrieved her bike. She was beginning to get hungry, but really didn’t want to go back to the diner. She rode to The Nesting Place, parking the bike by the garage.
“Ever thought about why they don’t drive the Orion?” Death peered through the side window of the building.
“Of course. Have you?”
Death shrugged. “Gas guzzler.”
“I’m sure that’s a big reason.”
“You think there are others?”
“Probably. The main one being it’s from Karl. They obviously hate the man, even if he is family.”
“What about the money?”
“What money?”
“That it took to buy that thing. That vehicle represents a huge chunk of change.”
Casey shook her head. “I hate it when you talk like that.”
“Like what?”
“Slang. You should be using Old World English.”
“I’m as contemporary as I am old-fashioned, love.”
“Don’t call me that.” She turned away and walked toward the house on the stone path. “Anyway, they use other things he gives them. Like the TV.”
Death followed her. “True. But the Orion’s worth a lot more. Shouldn’t they sell it and use the money for HomeMaker’s unemployed?”
Casey stopped abruptly, but rather than bumping into her, Death strode right through her. Casey shivered. “Don’t do that.”
“You’re the one who stopped.”
“Anyway…” Casey looked back toward the garage. “What if there’s some reason they can’t sell it?”
“Such as?”
“It’s still in his name?”
“That would work. But why would he do that?”
“I don’t know. In case he wanted it back he could just take it.”
She turned back toward the house and squeezed past Death, not wanting to step off the path into the vegetation. “I’m hungry. I’m going in.”
Death gazed at the back of the house with a smirk.
“What?”
“Never mind. Go ahead. I’ll see you soon.”
Rosemary was in the laundry room, a cup of coffee in her hand, staring out the back window.
“Hey, Rosemary. You okay?”
“What? Oh, sure, I’m fine. What did you and Eric discover?”
