Read Online Grim Reaper 01 - Embrace the Grim Reaper by Judy Clemens - Free Book Online
Authors: Judy Clemens
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something about it?”
“Yeah. Something.”
“I’d love to have you join me. How about tomorrow?”
“That would be great. Thanks.” Casey turned to leave.
“You’re taking Ellen’s place in the play.”
Casey halted in the doorway and looked back. Both women faced her. She wasn’t sure which one had spoken. “I guess I am.”
Lillian nodded. “That’s good.”
“Is it?”
Rosemary thrust a pan into the full sink. “This town needs something like Twelfth Night . Needs some laughter.”
“But about Ellen. It’s terrible.”
“Of course it is, darling.” Was Rosemary crying, or had she splashed herself?
“We loved Ellen,” Lillian said. “The whole town did.”
Eric did.
“We just couldn’t believe it, when we heard.”
Rosemary spun a metal spatula in a wide arc, sending bubbles to the floor. “We still don’t believe it. She wouldn’t leave those kids.”
Casey bit her lip. “You don’t think she killed herself?”
“Of course not!” The spatula was really moving now. “Just the thought that that sweet girl committed suicide is…is…”
Lillian moved to the other woman and put an arm around her shoulders. “Shh, Rosemary. Quiet down, now.”
Rosemary’s face went red, and her lips trembled. Carefully, she set the spatula in the water, wiped her hands on the towel beside the sink, and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”
Casey shook her head. “There’s nothing to be sorry about.”
“Yes, there is,” Rosemary said. “There most certainly, certainly is.”
Chapter Ten
After lunch Casey walked upstairs to put her dirty laundry in the basket Lillian had loaned her. On her way out she stopped in the doorway to look back at the room. There was nothing to say she even existed. Her bag was stashed away, her bathroom supplies were in the medicine cabinet, and the bed was as smooth as if it had just been made.
“I don’t understand why you don’t have any pictures.”
Casey ground her teeth. “I wish you’d stop sneaking up on me like that.”
Death leaned against the doorjamb, sucking on a lollipop.
“And what’s with all the junk food lately?”
“What? You afraid it’s going to kill me?”
Casey bit back a reply and pushed through the doorway.
Death stepped out of her way. “So why don’t you?”
“Why don’t I what?”
“Have any pictures?”
Casey stopped at the top of the stairs. “I don’t need pictures. I have all the images I need.”
“They can’t be very nice ones.”
“They’re fine.”
“If you say so.”
Casey looked back. “What do you want me to do? Sit around all day and stare at photographs? Wish they were back here, with me?”
Death pushed off of the doorjamb, meandering down the hallway, looking at the antiques spaced along the wall. “You already wish that.”
“Of course I do. Having photos would just be worse.”
“If you say so. Where are you going, Casey?”
Casey looked at the laundry basket. “Where do you think?”
Death peered into the pile of dirty clothes. “About time, too. I was beginning to think I’d have to keep my distance because of the smell.”
Casey started down the stairs. “Why don’t you go bother someone else for a while?”
“Aw. I’m beginning to think you don’t want me around.”
“I would’ve gone with you willingly before. But you obviously have other plans in mind. Now you’re just annoying.”
“Casey?” Lillian’s voice floated up the stairs. “Are you talking to me?”
Casey looked up toward the second floor. Death gave a small, mocking bow, and walked back into Casey’s room.
“No,” Casey called down. “Just talking to…the cat.”
The fat cat stared at her from a bench on the stair’s landing, whiskers twitching, eyes wide.
Lillian came into view. “Oh, that’s Solomon. He likes to get to know our guests. Don’t you Solly?” She ran a hand over the cat’s head, and he nipped at her hand. “What’s the matter with you, boy?”
Casey
“Yeah. Something.”
“I’d love to have you join me. How about tomorrow?”
“That would be great. Thanks.” Casey turned to leave.
“You’re taking Ellen’s place in the play.”
Casey halted in the doorway and looked back. Both women faced her. She wasn’t sure which one had spoken. “I guess I am.”
Lillian nodded. “That’s good.”
“Is it?”
Rosemary thrust a pan into the full sink. “This town needs something like Twelfth Night . Needs some laughter.”
“But about Ellen. It’s terrible.”
“Of course it is, darling.” Was Rosemary crying, or had she splashed herself?
“We loved Ellen,” Lillian said. “The whole town did.”
Eric did.
“We just couldn’t believe it, when we heard.”
Rosemary spun a metal spatula in a wide arc, sending bubbles to the floor. “We still don’t believe it. She wouldn’t leave those kids.”
Casey bit her lip. “You don’t think she killed herself?”
“Of course not!” The spatula was really moving now. “Just the thought that that sweet girl committed suicide is…is…”
Lillian moved to the other woman and put an arm around her shoulders. “Shh, Rosemary. Quiet down, now.”
Rosemary’s face went red, and her lips trembled. Carefully, she set the spatula in the water, wiped her hands on the towel beside the sink, and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”
Casey shook her head. “There’s nothing to be sorry about.”
“Yes, there is,” Rosemary said. “There most certainly, certainly is.”
Chapter Ten
After lunch Casey walked upstairs to put her dirty laundry in the basket Lillian had loaned her. On her way out she stopped in the doorway to look back at the room. There was nothing to say she even existed. Her bag was stashed away, her bathroom supplies were in the medicine cabinet, and the bed was as smooth as if it had just been made.
“I don’t understand why you don’t have any pictures.”
Casey ground her teeth. “I wish you’d stop sneaking up on me like that.”
Death leaned against the doorjamb, sucking on a lollipop.
“And what’s with all the junk food lately?”
“What? You afraid it’s going to kill me?”
Casey bit back a reply and pushed through the doorway.
Death stepped out of her way. “So why don’t you?”
“Why don’t I what?”
“Have any pictures?”
Casey stopped at the top of the stairs. “I don’t need pictures. I have all the images I need.”
“They can’t be very nice ones.”
“They’re fine.”
“If you say so.”
Casey looked back. “What do you want me to do? Sit around all day and stare at photographs? Wish they were back here, with me?”
Death pushed off of the doorjamb, meandering down the hallway, looking at the antiques spaced along the wall. “You already wish that.”
“Of course I do. Having photos would just be worse.”
“If you say so. Where are you going, Casey?”
Casey looked at the laundry basket. “Where do you think?”
Death peered into the pile of dirty clothes. “About time, too. I was beginning to think I’d have to keep my distance because of the smell.”
Casey started down the stairs. “Why don’t you go bother someone else for a while?”
“Aw. I’m beginning to think you don’t want me around.”
“I would’ve gone with you willingly before. But you obviously have other plans in mind. Now you’re just annoying.”
“Casey?” Lillian’s voice floated up the stairs. “Are you talking to me?”
Casey looked up toward the second floor. Death gave a small, mocking bow, and walked back into Casey’s room.
“No,” Casey called down. “Just talking to…the cat.”
The fat cat stared at her from a bench on the stair’s landing, whiskers twitching, eyes wide.
Lillian came into view. “Oh, that’s Solomon. He likes to get to know our guests. Don’t you Solly?” She ran a hand over the cat’s head, and he nipped at her hand. “What’s the matter with you, boy?”
Casey
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