Dead People (9 page)

“This?” Darleen jiggled the knife. “I was about to cut up a chicken. Fresh from the farm. Dropped off fifteen minutes ago. I made a coffeecake just for you. Come in and have some.”

Cassie put her hand over her suddenly queasy stomach, which was ridiculous. She ate chicken all the time, so why feel unsettled because the one in Darleen’s kitchen was freshly killed?

The door squeaked open a few inches more and Darleen lumbered onto the front stoop. A car squealed to a stop at the curb. Hearing a car door slam, Cassie glanced over her shoulder. At first she just saw the dark car with a banged fender parked on the street. Then Tricia raced around the car as if she was rushing to prevent a murder.

***

Rounding the car, Tricia spotted Cassie and slowed to a fast walk. Good, she wasn’t too late. Sweat slicked Tricia’s skin and her heart beat erratically, skipping like one of her grandmother’s old vinyl records.

She’d been working the hotel desk since six a.m., or she would have been here earlier. All morning she’d wanted to hit herself over the head for arranging this meeting.

She didn’t know why she’d done it. Maybe she’d invested too much of herself into her helpful housekeeper role. Or maybe she was setting herself up for failure again.

Who knew what her mother would do or say? At the least, the fat bitch would embarrass her, the same thing she’d done Tricia’s entire life.

And now her mother was—

Oh Jesus. Oh crap. Oh fuck.
 

Tricia abandoned the fast walk and raced up the sidewalk. “Mom, why are you waving the knife?”

Her mother stopped signaling with the knife like it was a flag at a racetrack. A puzzled frown wrinkled her extra-wide forehead and she stared at the chef’s knife as if it had turned into a giant penis. With her fat moon face, she looked mental. Then she blinked and the look was gone.

Tricia wanted to puke on the yellowing grass.

“I was waving hi.” Darleen giggled. “I forgot about the knife.”

Tricia reached Cassie, who gave a stiff smile and shifted feet. “Put it away and we’ll come in,” Tricia said.

How humiliating. With a mother like that, could anyone blame her for turning out the way she had? She never wanted to be bad. She never wanted to
hurt
anyone.

Like a million other little girls, her dream had been to be an actress and to have everyone love her. Worship her. In her dreams, she was always the heroine, not the villain.

But life hadn’t turned out the way it should have. It had kicked her in the teeth.

And one dark day she decided to kick back.

“Come in. I’ll bring cake and coffee.” Her mother hurried into the house, moving quickly for a woman who weighed over 300 pounds.

“I’m sorry about my mother.” Tricia screwed up her face at Cassie, letting her ruefulness show. During the two months of acting classes she’d taken in Los Angeles before the night her life turned to shit, she’d learned how to draw on her own emotions. Right this moment showing mortification was as easy as breathing. “My mother’s always been different.”

Cassie lifted one eyebrow. “You want different? I talk to dead people.”

Tricia didn’t know how Cassie could admit to doing that. Tricia should tell her talking to dead people was cool, but it wasn’t. It was creepy. And it was different. Anything different made people outcasts in Bliss.

Like having an obese mother who was poor.

Like having no father.

Like having dyslexia and not being diagnosed until seventh grade, with every teacher and all the other kids thinking she was stupid.

“I’m so happy everyone is staying, after all.” Tricia held the door open. She beamed at Cassie, once again not having to fake an emotion. With Luke and Erin staying, Tricia could still make Plan A work. “Now all you have to do is get rid of Isabel. I hope my mom can help you.”

Cassie smiled tightly and walked into the house. She wore green khaki pants and a thin black sweater that stopped just above her hips. Not a good choice, accentuating what she should be minimizing.

How could Cassie stand walking around with a butt that big?

A moment after they sat in the small living room with the beige furniture about a zillion years old, Tricia’s mom hustled in with three cups of tea and ordered Tricia to get coffeecake for everyone. In the kitchen, Tricia shoved extra napkins in her jacket pocket, then carried the dishes and cake into the living room.
 

Her mom’s eyes lit up when her gaze landed on the cake, and she babbled about how she made the cake with real butter. Like that was something to be proud of. After she cut each of them a slab, she gobbled hers in dainty bites that wouldn’t fool a moron.

“So, what do you want to know?” Darleen asked, her cheeks pouched with cake.

Cassie swallowed a bite. “This is delicious. About Mrs. Shay’s heart problems. Tricia told me she was seeing a cardiologist before the coronary.”

Darleen nodded. “She had heart palpitations. I used to think Mrs. Shay said that to get attention, but she proved me wrong.” She shook her head, the corners of her mouth pulling down. Then she ruined the effect by shoving a forkful of cake into her mouth.

“Did she tell you what the doctor told her? Was she on special meals?”

Tricia’s heart beat skipped again. Beat, beat, beat, skip, beat. Faster and faster and faster.

Her mom shook her head, her three chins wobbling. “She took Aleve for her arthritis. No change of meals either. Mrs. Shay loved my cooking.”

Tricia took a bite of the coffee cake, brought the napkin to her mouth, and spit into it. Mrs. Shay had been fat too, though not as fat as Darleen. Tricia was never going to be like Mrs. Shay or her mom. She’d kill herself first. “The cake is great, Mom.”
 

Darleen’s face lit up, her cheeks flushing.
 

Cassie put her fork down, her cake less than half eaten. “Did Mrs. Shay have anyone she confided in?”

“Not really,” Darleen said. “Aren’t you going to finish your coffeecake?”

“Huh? Oh, yes.” Cassie picked up her fork again.

“I felt sorry for Mrs. Shay.” Darleen nodded with approval as Cassie stuffed a bite of cake into her mouth. “She didn’t have friends or even family, not on her side, just Mr. Shay’s niece and nephew. They live in Texas and Canada, and neither bothered coming to the funeral. But they found time to swoop down a few weeks later and sell her personal items in an estate sale.” She pointed at a Tiffany lamp on a side table. “I got that for twenty-two bucks.”

“A bargain.”

“Tricia bought a garbage bag full of stuff. I thought she was going to sell it on eBay, but she’s keeping it all.” She scratched her chins. “She’s always been fond of that house.”

Every muscle in Tricia’s body tightened. She kept her relaxed posture, though she couldn’t make her rigid mouth smile. “I’m not really that fond. The stuff I bought might be worth money some day.”

“What did you buy?” Cassie sounded interested, curious, not suspicious.

Tricia raised one shoulder in a shrug that was short of rude, on the side of careless, calculating every inch. “Just junk.”

“I don’t know why you bought the old photo albums,” Darleen said.

“Mom, you’re embarrassing me.” Tricia gave Cassie what she hoped looked like an awkward smile. “I’m thinking of donating them to the Historical Society. They were all of Mr. Shay’s family. If I hadn’t bought them, the niece and nephew would’ve thrown them in the trash.”

“The Historical Society won’t be interested in Mr. Shay’s family pictures,” Darleen said. “His parents moved into the house before him, but they owned a department store in Milwaukee. Sold out and retired up here. Their investments made money—the rich get richer.”

“And it all went to the nephew and niece?” Cassie asked, her voice too studiously disinterested to fool Tricia.

Tricia went cold then hot. Why these questions? Cassie couldn’t guess what Tricia had done. Even if Mrs. Shay had talked to Cassie, she wouldn’t know what happened. Mrs. Shay never had a clue.

How could she? Tricia had come to the house with her mother that morning, knowing Darleen would find Mrs. Shay dead. While Darleen called 911, Tricia grabbed the leftover candy and threw it out. There were still a few pieces of chocolate that Mrs. Shay hadn’t got around to eating, and she knew Darleen would have scarfed them up.

With all her faults, she was still her mom. Tricia didn’t want to kill her.

Thinking about that morning made Tricia nervous. Ravenous. Made her want to run to the kitchen, wolf down the rest of the coffee cake, then lick any crumbs left in the pan.

“The estate was split equally between the niece and nephew,” Darleen said. “They got every penny, except five thousand that Mrs. Shay left to me. Tricia thinks Mrs. Shay stiffed me, but I’m happy I got that much. You should’ve heard the ladies from her church grumbling because the church wasn’t mentioned in the will.”

“Do you know anything about the history of the house?” Cassie asked.
 

Tricia frowned, then reminded herself that frowning caused wrinkles and she couldn’t afford Botox. Not yet.

What was Cassie poking her nose into? The history of the house had nothing to do with what she’d done to Mrs. Shay. Though if Cassie found out about Kurt...

“It’s old,” Darleen said. “Very old. You could ask the Historical Society.”

Tricia breathed easier. Sometimes having a stupid mom was good. Let Cassie ask the Historical Society and see how far that got her. The only thing the Historical Society was good for was getting together and yakking about how long their families had lived in Bliss. Like stagnation was a good thing.

Cassie shrugged and ate the last bite of her cake. Tricia pretended to eat the last bite of hers, then spat it into a napkin that she shoved into her jacket pocket with the others.

“Thank you for the cake,” Cassie said. “And for all your help.”

Tricia restrained herself from jumping up. As soon as Cassie left, so would she. She hated every second in this house. Its smallness stifled her.

Not like the Shay house, with its twenty high-ceilinged rooms, the fancy plasterwork and the gleaming woodwork.

A sudden fierceness swept through her.
Her house.
The house should belong to
her
.

Something had gone seriously wrong. Her name should’ve been in the will with the other descendants of Thomas.

“And thank you, Tricia,” Cassie said.

“It was nothing,” Tricia said with a smile. Not lying because it was true, thanks to her mother’s denseness. Darleen was like the three monkeys rolled into one: see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.

There was only one “evil” her mother would break.
Eat
no evil.

“My Tricia is the best girl in the world.” Darleen heaved herself off the sofa. “I wish I could help her more. She works so hard and never complains. Because she’s beautiful and smart, the other girls in town are jealous. They make up stories about her. As for the boys, they just want one thing.”

“Mom.” Tricia put her hands over her ears.

“It’s true. Don’t be so modest.” Darleen nodded at Cassie as Tricia lowered her arms. “It will change when she gets out of Bliss and goes to UWM. But even working two jobs, it’ll take her another year to afford it. I hate it that I can’t afford to help her.”

“Can’t she get grants or scholarships?” Cassie asked.

“If her grades were better,” Darleen said.

Tricia went hot and cold. She wished she hadn’t thrown those last deadly chocolates in the garbage disposal. She wanted to stuff them into her mother’s big mouth right now, watch her chew them, watch her die.

“How can her grades improve when she’s working every night?” Darleen added.

“Mom! I’ll do it like everyone else does. I’ll work hard.” Tricia couldn’t manage a smile, but could tell by Cassie’s approving expression she’d said the right thing. “I’ll walk outside with you, Cassie. I should leave too.”

Tricia kissed her mother’s cheek at the door and said she loved her. And she did. Darleen had been there for Tricia when she slunk home from LA, never pushing Tricia for the reason she stayed in her bedroom for three weeks straight, coming out only to use the bathroom, to eat, and to vomit.

That was in the past. Tricia was stronger than the naïve girl who’d flown to L.A., so sure life was going to be wonderful away from Bliss.

Now she knew people were horrible everywhere, and she needed to be just as horrible as them.

And she was. She was the most horrible of them all.

Cassie interrupted her thoughts to thank her again. Tricia gave her a modest smile, one she’d practiced in the mirror at least two thousand times.

“I’ll see you at the house later on?” Tricia asked.

“I’ll be there tonight.” Cassie rolled her eyes. “The graveyard shift. Literally. Luke thinks Isabel is more active at night.”

“How much more active can she get than yesterday?” Tricia knew she was staring, her eyes bulging like a cartoon character’s, but she didn’t care. “She might really hurt you. What’s he thinking?”