“Yes?”
“Let’s just say it wasn’t personal on my part. And Ellen had nothing—absolutely nothing—to do with it.” He turned, and disappeared into his house.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Casey was waiting at the back door of Home Sweet Home when Eric drove up.
He got out of his Camry. “Hey.”
“Hey.” She went to the car. “Got things to carry in?”
“Well, yes, but—”
She waited at the trunk until he opened it, holding out her arms for the bags of just-un-sellable vegetables and food staples. They took in the groceries and put them away, finding what space they could around the pizzas in the fridge.
“What is it?” Eric asked when they were done. “You learned something. I can see it.”
“I think the video might be a dead end.” She explained what Todd had told her.
“But maybe it did have to do with her,” he said. “Todd’s either lying or he doesn’t know.”
“Unless…”
“What?”
“Eric.” She made her voice gentle. “Have you remembered why you were there that day?”
He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. “You really think I did something to Ellen?”
“No, I don’t—”
“Because that’s just…” He flung his hands outward, and stalked away, keeping his back to her.
She followed him. “I don’t think that, Eric. Really. But what if something about your visit was important? You need to remember.”
“I know. I know.” He banged the flat of his hand against the wall, and leaned there, hanging his head.
“Can you at least tell me what Thomas thinks I’m doing here? Why he would threaten me, telling me to leave him alone?”
He turned his head to look at her. “Thomas? He did that?”
“He seems to think I’m a spy.”
He sighed heavily. “Lord knows what Thomas thinks about anything.”
“I think you know, too.”
He pushed himself off the wall, rounding on her. “What do I know?”
Casey readied herself for self-defense, all the while telling herself it was stupid to worry around Eric. “You have something on him, Eric. He knows it. You know it. What is it?” She could still picture that man, Taffy, telling Thomas he was being monitored. Should she mention it to Eric? Or would that just put Eric in danger, too?
“Thomas and I have known each other a long—”
“Stop. Just stop. You’ve given me that spiel before. So you’ve known each other forever. You grew up together. Your dads both moved here to work together. I get that. But what does that mean? You feel some sense of…what? Responsibility for him?”
“No, I don’t, it’s just…”
“What?”
“I think he wants out.”
“Out? Out of what? Theater? This town?”
He glanced at her. “This town, definitely, but that’s not what I meant.”
“Then what? It has something to do with money, doesn’t it? Large amounts of it?” She couldn’t imagine what else Taffy and Bone would want.
Eric let out a long sigh, and leaned back against the wall. “I can’t… It doesn’t have anything to do with Ellen, okay? Trust me on that.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. If I thought it did, I would tell you.”
“Would you?”
“Yes.”
She watched him for a moment. Did he know enough that he could also be a target of those men? Whatever group was threatening Thomas? Would Taffy and Bone come after him?
“Eric, there’s something I think you should know—”
“I know everything I need to about Thomas and his problems.”
“But—”
“No. No more. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” He turned abruptly and walked through the door into the dining area.
Casey clenched her jaw. She hated thinking of Eric in any way other than positive, but how long had she actually known him? Three days? Four? And with them knowing nothing about what had really happened to Ellen, how did he really know Thomas’ problem wasn’t relevant?
She started after him, but the back door opened and Loretta entered, kissing her fingers and raising them to heaven. “Thank you, Jesus, for another day serving you. Hallelujah! Hello, baby girl.” This last was to Casey.
“Hello, Loretta.”
“Pizza again tonight, Praise God! ”
“Yes.”
The door smacked open, and Johnny filled the entryway. “Nice lady!”
Casey smiled. “Hello, Johnny.”
He hugged her with abandon, and lumbered off to his station to roll silverware. Casey followed.
“Johnny, Ellen worked here with you, didn’t she?”
He slid the silverware drawer out. “Oh, yes, ma’am, she was a nice lady.”
“I’m sure she was.” She watched as he carefully placed the knife, fork, and spoon on a napkin and rolled it all into a perfect oblong bundle. “Did she ever say anything to you about work?”
“Work?” His face crinkled in concentration. “About silverware?”
“No. No, I mean about HomeMaker.”
“Oh, that work.” He turned backed to his silverware, as if he didn’t care to reply.
“Praise the Lord,” Loretta said, “Ellen was going to make the need for this kitchen go away, thank you Jesus! ”
Casey went closer to her. “Did she tell you how?”
“Didn’t say much, did she now, poor angel of God, but she was confident in His power, yes she was. Praise the Lord! ”
“She thought God was going to save the factory?”
Loretta pursed her lips. “Now don’t be getting that tone, young lady, although God loves you even so.”
“I’m sorry. But I was serious. What made her confident? Trust in God?”
“That’s always there, honey. But she was the one doing God’s work and helping the meek and poor in spirit.”
Casey clenched her fists against her hips. “But how?”
“Oh, well now, baby, I’d tell you if I knew, wouldn’t I? Hallelujah! ”
Casey took a deep breath, reminding herself that taking an elderly woman to the mat was really not appropriate. No matter how heartfelt it would be.
The door slapped open again, and Casey’s stomach dropped. “Leila.”
“Where’s Eric?” The girl’s eyes sparked with anger—and something else—when she saw Casey.
Casey jerked her thumb toward the dining room. “Out there.”
Leila spun on her heel and marched out of the kitchen. Casey followed, stopping in the doorway to make sure Eric wasn’t about to get assaulted. She needn’t have worried. Leila’s only concern seemed to be to find Eric and give him some urgent message. Somehow, Casey had the feeling it was about her.
Casey went back to the kitchen and took a couple heads of lettuce from the fridge, washing them and cutting off the brown spots with a knife. Maybe it was time for her to leave Home Sweet Home, at least, if not Clymer altogether. She wasn’t getting any answers. Eric was angry with her. Leila was telling secrets. Loretta thought she was a heathen. Johnny had even turned his back on her.
She closed her eyes and leaned on the sink, a wave of dizziness sweeping through her.
“Don’t go falling into the sink now,” Death said. “You’ll cut yourself with that knife.”
Casey shook her head, her eyes still closed, and whispered, “No one would care.”
“Sure they would. You’d get blood on the lettuce.”
Casey straightened, giving Death a good glare. “Thanks so much for your concern.”
Death shrugged and peeled a perfect yellow banana.
“What is with you?” Casey said. “First junk food, now the healthy stuff.”
“I get bored. And besides, I’m really enjoying learning about—”
“Gardening. I know.”
“Casey?” Eric came to stand beside Casey and she blinked as he stood in Death’s spot, Death’s form shimmering, but staying in place, outlining Eric’s body. Eric shivered. “Is it cold in here, or is it just me?” He reached over to shut the door.
Leila stood in the entryway to the dining room, her expression triumphant, arms crossed over her chest. Casey went back to chopping lettuce, avoiding the sight of Death/Eric.
“Um, I’m sorry,” Eric said. “I know you’re just trying to help by asking me to think of these things. I’ll go home tonight and look through my calendar. See if I can piece together which visit to my dad that would’ve been.”