Grim Reaper 01 - Embrace the Grim Reaper

handlebars. “Any chance she didn’t kill herself?”
    The chief gave her a long look, then slowly placed his sunglasses back over his eyes. “It’s been officially ruled a suicide, Ms. Smith. The autopsy confirmed she died of an overdose of her own sleeping pills. She sat down with a few cups of coffee and just about emptied the bottle. No bruises saying someone forced her to take them. No needle marks saying someone shot her up with something. All of the evidence points away from there being anyone else involved.”
    “No fingerprints?”
    He snorted. “Been talking to your friends at The Nesting Place, have you? They’d like me to call in favors from the governor to get Ellen’s entire house taken apart and analyzed.”
    “But fingerprints are simple.”
    “Yeah. And these simple prints are telling us no one else was involved . I really don’t think there’s any point in bringing her death up again, questioning how it happened. People here have enough to worry about these days, without thinking that maybe Ellen was murdered.” He held up a hand, forestalling her response. “I wish to God she hadn’t done it, Ms. Smith, but facts are facts. Nothing we can do will change them, and it’s not worth getting everybody all riled up over something that’s not true, or even likely.”
    “Her kids might think differently.”
    “Her kids are ten and seven. I really don’t think it matters to them one way or the other, does it?”
    “You don’t ?”
    “Either way, they’re orphans.”
    “Yes, but one way she chose to leave them, and the other she didn’t. I’d say that matters a lot.”
    “Ms. Smith, that might matter to some people. Her family, sure, I can give you that. Her friends, like your hostesses at the bed and breakfast. They’ve made no secret of their feelings. Her boyfriend… ” He looked at her meaningfully. “But somehow, Ms. Smith, I don’t see that it should matter a whole lot to you .”
    “But—”
    “Good day, Ms. Smith.” He began the trek back across the street, but stopped when he reached his cruiser, turning to her as if struck by a sudden thought. “And you know, I find myself hoping one last theory about you is true.”
    “Really? And what is that?”
    “That you’re a gypsy, and you can only stay in one place a few days at a time, or poof!” He splayed his fingers upward. “You evaporate.”
    Casey watched him, her mouth open, as he opened his car door and slid into the seat. With a slight wave he accelerated through the intersection and drove off.
    “Now that is a rude little man.” Death stood in the middle of the street, drinking a Slurpee and watching the police car turn a corner and disappear from view.
    Casey crossed her arms. “So. Will I?”
    “Will you what?”
    “Evaporate?”
    Death walked over and pinched Casey’s cheek with fingers icy from the drink. “Hardly. Chief Reardon doesn’t know anything about gypsies.”
    “Really? And you do?”
    “Of course. And gypsies do not evaporate.”
    Casey sighed. “So much for that idea.”
    Death took another loud slurp and took off the drink lid, stirring the ice with the straw. “Gypsies do, however, get arrested and convicted of crimes they did not commit.”
    Casey jerked her head in the direction of the police car.
    When she turned back around, Death was gone.

Chapter Seventeen
    Casey was pedaling slowly, trying to bring her heart rate back to normal, when a strange vibration came from her jacket pocket. She glanced down. What in the world? Oh. Her phone. She’d forgotten to remove it the day before.
    She braked and stopped, one foot on the curb. Yanking the phone from her pocket, she scanned the face for the incoming number. Ricky. Of course. He could’ve gotten her information when she’d called yesterday. His catering business was sure to have Caller ID.
    “Ricky?”
    “They were here again. At my house. The lady with the hair, and the guy with the face.”
    “What? When?”
    “Just now. And that’s not all. She was with them.”
    “She? You mean…” He could only mean one person. Dottie Spears. The CEO of Pegasus. “What did she want?”
    “Same thing Hair and Face wanted yesterday. To know where you were.”
    “But for her to come—”
    “Something must’ve happened.”
    He was right. He had to be. “What did you tell them?”
    “What I always tell them. The truth. I don’t know where you are, where you’re going, or how to get in touch with you. Except that was