The Grim Reaper's Dance

Sedgwick.

“Hmm,” Death said. “You’re smarter than you smell.”

“Look, L’Ankou. The saying is you’re smarter than you look.”

“I know that. It’s just that your smell these days has begun to overpower even your looks. And they ain’t so great, either.”

Casey flinched, and sniffed at her underarm. Was she really that bad? Or did Death just have an extra- sensitive nose?

The exit for Sedgwick loomed up on the right, and Casey took it. This area was a bit more populated than Blue Lake, which made her nervous, but nobody should recognize her here—except for Dixon, Westing, their guys, and perhaps even Yonkers himself. Yikes.

She took a road that led to less built-up land and pulled to the side of the road, where there was a deep ditch. She clambered down to the deepest part and scooped up some mud, using it to cover up most of the numbers on the pickup’s license plate. She didn’t want to take any chance of the guys seeing this truck and tracing it back to Tom. Not that she was planning on running into them, but she was now traveling on their turf.

She found a rag under the seat and wiped her hands.

“Muddy hands,” Death said. “Perfect with your outfit.”

“We are going to a nursery,” Casey said.

Death laughed.

License plate obscured, Casey turned around and drove back toward town. “Think I can stop at a gas station?”

“One near the highway. They see so many people they’ll have less of a chance of remembering you. Even in your present state.”

“Will you stop already? I know I look—and smell—like crap, all right? It doesn’t help to have you going on about it all the time.”

“Sorry, sorry. Just trying to call it like it is.”

“Well, quit.”

Death was quiet the rest of the way back toward the highway.

Casey scoped out the Shell station, and was glad to see a pay phone and know she still had a quarter left over from Wendell’s money. When the pumps were vacant she pulled up beside the stand. The phone book had been stolen, the metal cover dangling from its chain. This left her with a decision—use up the last of her money to call information, or go inside and risk being seen?

Since she had a full stomach, the decision seemed obvious. She ponied up the necessary change and called information, which put her through to Exotic Blooms.

The woman on the other end of the phone, who identified herself as “Ruby,” was happy to give Casey directions from the highway, but laughed when Casey asked if Mr. Yonkers would be available to talk to her about some special orders. “Mr. Yonkers isn’t involved in the day-to-day work as much as he used to be. But I’ll be happy to help you with anything you need.”

“The person who recommended your nursery suggested I speak directly to him.”

A pause. “Well, I don’t know why they would have said that. I’ve done the ordering here for the past couple of years. Who have you been talking to?”

Casey gave a little laugh, like she was embarrassed. “I don’t want to get them in trouble. I’ll be happy to come by and work with you. In fact, I’d rather do that.”

Ruby sniffed. “That’s fine. I’m here every day—that is, Monday through Saturday.”

“I’ll be by. Thank you. But, um, just to tell my friend I tried, do you have any idea where I might be able to find Mr. Yonkers? Or talk to him?”

Ruby’s voice went just a bit chillier. “Mr. Yonkers doesn’t spend much time here at all anymore. You’d have better luck catching him at home, or on his cell. You do have that number?”

“No, no, I don’t.”

Ruby hesitated. “I’m not supposed to hand it out. But if you want to leave your name and number I’ll have him get back to you.”

“Thank you, but I think I’ll just tell my friend I tried and leave it at that. I’ll be by soon to see if you can help me.”

“And what is your name?”

“Good-bye, then,” Casey said. “See you soon.”

She got back in the truck, pleased she hadn’t needed to go into the gas station, where she would most likely have been videotaped.

“We’re not going to just dance right in, are we?” Death looked concerned.

“Of course not. We may not even go in. I just want to see what I can see.”

“Do you see what I see?” Death sang from the familiar Christmas carol, and proceeded to play it on the electronic keyboard that appeared, which was so long it would have poked Casey, had it been solid. As it was, she shivered.

“Can you move that thing?”

“Oh, sorry.” The keyboard shrank to the size of one a child would play.

“Exotic Blooms is on one side of a shopping center. The usual things—Old Navy, Lowe’s, a Target, maybe. But there should be plenty of parking lot to hide in.”

“Can we get close enough to actually see anything?”

“We’ll try.”

The nursery, when they found it, took up more than its share of the shopping area, with three enormous greenhouses, and rows of plants and trees out toward the road. Behind the greenhouses was a gravel parking lot large enough for the loading and unloading of merchandise, but it was empty, except for a wooden two-wheeled trailer, tilted with its hitch resting on the ground, and lots of nursery-type tools: buckets, hoses, mulch, and pallets of plants. Next to the lot was the back of the next store, with its own loading bays. A semi-trailer was backed up to one of them, and two men stood on the dock going over paperwork. Yonkers must not have had an actual loading bay like the big store, but there was plenty of room for a semi to maneuver in the lot.

Casey parked three rows from the front door and to the left, between an over-sized pickup and a Navigator, with a minivan to her back. Tom’s truck was hidden unless someone would look at it straight on. From this vantage point she could see the entrance to the back lot, as well as anyone going into the store through the customer entrance. She recognized some familiar foliage sitting in rows to the side, and arranged on the sidewalk, but was astounded by the amount of things she couldn’t name.

“It’s a jungle in there,” Death said. “Are you going in?”

“I don’t know yet. I want to scope it out.”

“Don’t have a lot of time if you’re going to get this truck back Tom by five.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I want to be stupid about it.”

“Whatever.” Death pulled out the rubber band and twanged it for a few beats before stopping. “You know, it’s hard to get too scared of a guy who sells flowers.”

“That’s not all he’s doing.”

Death shrugged, and continued twanging.

At first Casey could concentrate. Only three people went through the front doors—two came out with purchases, and one went in. No trucks or vehicles of any kind drove into the parking lot. One woman strode back and forth across the store helping customers inside—Ruby?—and one young woman in low-slung jeans and a form- fitting shirt, with her hair piled on top of her head in a ponytail, slouched around the outside, flinging the hose this way and that, chomping gum so hard Casey was surprised her jaw didn’t fall off. The girl turned toward Casey to water a row of waist-high plants with shiny, dark green leaves and bright red blooms, and Casey sucked in her breath. “What time is it?”

Death stopped twanging long enough to say, “Little after three.”

“So that could be her.”

“Who?”

“Yonkers’ daughter. The one Evan wouldn’t let his own daughter go near. What was her name? Tara.”