Grim Reaper 01 - Embrace the Grim Reaper

it was?”
    She had a point.
    They drove through Clymer, Casey keeping a lookout for Thomas and the two men. There was no sign of them. Rosemary, oblivious to Casey’s interest in passing cars, drove several miles over the speed limit toward the interchange at the highway. When they got parallel to HomeMaker, Rosemary made a show of pulling her visor to the side window, blocking her view.
    “It’s not the people, of course,” she said, “that I’m trying to avoid. Other than the one. But just seeing that place makes me want to throw things.”
    Casey held her hands in her lap and said nothing, trying not to think about the fact that she was heading onto a highway in a car. Especially a car that was careening along with no respect for traffic or speed.
    “Ellen was such a sweetheart,” Rosemary said, sighing. “We really thought she and Eric… But of course it’s not to be. He’ll have to find someone else.” Her eyes flicked toward Casey, who leaned back in surprise.
    “Oh. Well. He’s pretty young, isn’t he? He has lots of time.”
    “Um-hmmm.” Rosemary looked back at the road. “And I think it will take him a while to get over Ellen. This past week he’s had a hard time of it, and I don’t see it getting easier any time soon.”
    “Yes,” Casey said. “It takes a while.”
    Rosemary gave Casey another speculative look, but Casey turned to gaze out of the window. The Ohio soybean and corn crops were just about ready for harvesting now, golden in the fields. Tomatoes, red and ripening, dotted the lush green rows. Thousands upon thousands of plants, waiting for harvest.
    “If Ellen didn’t…take her own life,” Casey said, glancing into the backseat, at Death, who was actually paying attention. “Who would’ve? It sounds like everyone liked her.”
    Rosemary blinked quickly, and raised a finger to her eye. “There was no reason not to like her. She was kind, honest, a good worker… Not that most people weren’t who got laid off, but someone in her position…”
    “Which was what?”
    “Administrative staff. They let about half of them go at the same time as the assembly line got cut.”
    “So she worked in the front office?”
    Rosemary’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “Right outside the door of the man we don’t like to talk about.”
    “She was Karl Willems’ secretary ? And he fired her?”
    “No. No, she wasn’t his secretary. She was just one of his ‘office girls,’ as he called them.” Rosemary frowned. “I’m pretty sure he knew her name. At least she said he called her ‘Ellen’ once.”
    Casey gripped her thighs, trying to come to terms with this man who had no clue. She shook her head, looking straight ahead, and then stopped. “But why?”
    “Why what?”
    “Why would Lillian marry someone like him?”
    Rosemary smiled sadly. “She’s not so young anymore, you know.”
    “She was when she married him.”
    “Right. And he was, too. Young and funny and smart…”
    “You knew him then?”
    Rosemary gave a chuckle. “Oh, I sure did. Knew him very well.”
    “Don’t tell me you’re Thomas’ mother?” She looked back at Death, who grinned impishly.
    “Thomas?” Rosemary said. “Thomas Black, the play director?”
    “Yes. Eric said his parents and Thomas’ were good friends.”
    Rosemary let out a whoop of laughter and slapped her hand on the steering wheel. “Oh, goodness, no. If I’d been Thomas’ mother perhaps he wouldn’t be the man he is today.”
    “You mean he’d be nice?” And not connected with nasty members of society?
    Rosemary hooted again. “Oh, Casey, darling, you’re killing me.” As soon as the words left her mouth she sobered, sighing and brushing a hand across her forehead. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. The things I say…”
    “It’s just an expression. You didn’t mean anything by it.”
    “Hmphf.”
    They drove in silence for a few minutes.
    “So how did you know Karl Willems when he was young?” Casey finally asked.
    “Oh,” Rosemary said. “You know. He’s my brother.”
    Casey’s shocked reply was cut short as Rosemary swung off an exit, spinning around the ramp with dizzying speed. Casey couldn’t speak, as she was concentrating on hanging on and not throwing up.
    They drove through quiet smalltown streets until Rosemary pointed a scarlet fingernail at an old brick building. “There it is. It doesn’t look like much, but it’s cheap rent, from what Mr. Damon tells me.” She