Casey’s stomach rumbled. “Would it be all right if I grabbed something to eat while I told you? You can add food cost to my bill.”
“Of course, darling. Let’s find you some lunch.” She hesitated. “Do you want to invite your friend to join us?”
Casey froze. “What friend?”
Rosemary gestured toward the back yard, where Death still stood, smirking at the window.
“You can…you can see someone out there?”
Rosemary sighed. “Yes. I wish I didn’t, but I do.”
Casey closed her eyes, suddenly dizzy. “What about Lillian? Won’t she care?”
“Oh, Lillian’s not here. And she wouldn’t care, anyway. She can’t see…that.”
Casey shook her head.
“Go ahead,” Rosemary said. “I’ll get something ready.” She swept into the kitchen.
Casey opened the back door. “I don’t want this.”
Death smiled and walked into the house. “Of course you don’t. But Rosemary is desperately interesting.”
“She doesn’t seem to like you very much.”
“She’ll warm to me.”
Casey wasn’t so sure.
“Here you go,” Rosemary said as they walked in. “I hope a turkey sandwich with tomato and lettuce is okay.”
“Sounds great,” Casey said.
“Divine,” Death said. “Are they your own tomatoes?”
Casey rolled her eyes.
“They are,” Rosemary said. “You can tell, can’t you? But then, I guess you can see most things.”
“Oh, I’m still learning about vegetables.”
That launched them into a conversation about gardening, and mulch, and the benefits of chicken or cow manure, while Casey chewed her sandwich, silently swearing at Death. Could she not even eat in peace now?
“So, Casey,” Rosemary said. “You were going to tell me what you and Eric discovered.” She glanced at Death, her eyes half-lidded. “I assume you know all about it?”
Death nodded, watching Casey with what one might construe as innocence.
Casey glared at Death and told Rosemary about Aaron’s identification of the parts, HomeMaker’s faulty inventory, and Jack’s recognition of the dryer latch. She ended with her unhelpful trip to the library.
“So we really don’t know much, do we?” Rosemary said.
“Not enough.”
Death pointed at Casey with a potato chip. “I think she should go talk to the banker.”
“Todd?” Casey shook her head. “He’s not going to tell me anything about HomeMaker’s money.”
“What if it’s not about money?”
“What else would it be about?”
“We do have another mystery to solve, don’t we? Not just about the unidentified appliance part?”
“Something that has to do with Todd?”
“Something that has to do with Ellen and Todd.”
“You mean—” She stopped, remembering Todd’s glowing ears when she’d mentioned Ellen, as well as his fury on Ellen’s footage. She looked at Rosemary. “What do you know about Todd’s marriage?”
Rosemary fussed with some breadcrumbs on her plate, pressing them down with a finger, then putting them to her mouth. “I don’t know much.”
“But what you do know?”
“They’ve been married a long time. They have three daughters.”
Casey waited. That was the easy stuff. Even she knew those things. “Did he like Ellen?”
“Of course he did. Everyone did.”
“You know what I mean.”
Rosemary sighed. “I think so. At least, Eric didn’t like the attention Todd paid to her. Todd had even begun working at Home Sweet Home.”
“He doesn’t any more.”
“No. He’d stopped soon before she…” She swallowed. “Before she died.”
“Did she return his feelings?”
Rosemary looked at Casey, her face grim. “I don’t know. She didn’t tell him to get lost, which she should’ve. She was too nice for that.”
“Would she have told him anything about HomeMaker? About what she thought she’d found?”
“I really can’t see…” She shook her head. “She didn’t even tell Eric. She wouldn’t have told Todd. I’m sure of it.”
Casey wasn’t. What if there was a reason for her to tell him? Like money issues for HomeMaker? Or as a trade-off for something else Ellen needed to know?
Casey looked at Death. “I still don’t see how going to talk with him will help. He’s not going to tell me anything about HomeMaker’s finances or Ellen. Unless he thinks I know already.”
Rosemary stopped, her arm halfway across the table, reaching for Casey’s empty plate. “Why would you know things like that?”
Casey snorted. “People are suspicious of me. Thomas Black thinks I’m a spy or something worse, and is convinced I’m here to ruin his life.” She remembered Taffy and Bone, the men in the theater, and shivered.
Rosemary snatched Casey’s silverware and clicked it onto the plate. “Thomas is doing a good enough job of ruining his life on his own. Messing around with Karl’s new trophy wife…” She stood, pushing back her chair with a loud scrape.
“Lonnie didn’t seem to think there was anything going on with them.”
Rosemary dumped Casey’s dishes in the sink. “I hope he’s right.”
Casey stretched, wondering how she could be feeling so tired when she’d slept so late.
“Honey,” Rosemary said, peering over her shoulder. “You look all done in, even with sleeping in this morning. Why don’t you go up to your room and rest for a while.”
Nothing sounded better. “Can I help with the dishes first?”
“No, no, sweetheart. I’ve got it. You go.” She thrust her hands into the soapy water in the sink. “Washing dishes is…comforting. Besides, I’ve got help.” She looked pointedly at Death, who held up hands in mock horror before standing and collecting the rest of the dishes on the table.
Casey used to enjoy washing the dishes. In fact, she and Reuben used to argue over who got to do them while the other kept Omar entertained. After a night of sleep broken by multiple feedings, a day of diaper changes, and attention never wavering from protecting a baby, Casey had longed for a few minutes of solitude. Precious minutes where all that was required of her was to plunge her hands into the warm water and mindlessly wash the bottles and dishes and baby spoons. She’d often ignored the dishwasher, preferring the manual labor, and the time alone.
How she wished she could have those minutes back. Those night interruptions, that exhaustion that comes from raising an active child.
“Okay, I’m going upstairs.”
Casey paused just outside the door of the kitchen to see if she would be followed by Death. Instead, Death stood beside Rosemary at the sink, towel in hand. Casey left, slogging up the stairs, her brain fuzzy. Solomon the cat was nowhere in sight this time, and Casey couldn’t blame him. Death wasn’t exactly hiding at the moment.
Casey went into her room, took off her shoes, and lay down on the bed. She was awakened sometime later by a weight by her feet. She raised her head.
“Well,” Death said. “I’ve been officially unwelcomed.”
“Huh?” Casey rubbed her eyes.
“Rosemary said that while she’s not afraid of me, she doesn’t want me hanging around.”
“And you listened?”
“I’m still here, aren’t I?”
