Grim Reaper 01 - Embrace the Grim Reaper

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?”
    “But not with her.”
    Death lay across the foot of the bed. “I figured I’d come back up here. She won’t know.”
    “Haven’t I been unwelcoming? Why don’t you listen to me?”
    Death leaned on an elbow. “You don’t really want me to go away.”
    “Yes. I do.”
    “No. You want me to go away and take you with me. That’s the difference between you and Rosemary.”
    Casey laid an arm over her eyes. “Who did you steal from Rosemary?”
    “I’m not a thief. But it was her husband, of course, that I took. Remember? She’s a widow?”
    “How?”
    “Hiking accident.”
    “Hiking?” Casey lifted her arm from her