“I’m thinking they weren’t loans from banks.”
“Hardly.”
Casey took a step away, then back. “You’re telling me there’s organized crime in Louisville?”
“I know, it doesn’t seem right, does it? But there’s a lot of money at Churchill Downs.”
She shook her head. “But who does that make me? Someone from the mob? Do I look like a leg breaker to you?”
His mouth twitched. “From what Rosemary told me—”
She waved him off. “Does he think I’m from them, or from the cops?”
He shrugged. “Either one would be bad for him.”
“I guess so. Poor Thomas.”
“Poor Thomas? Are you kidding me?”
She gave a little smile. “Sometimes people get in over their heads…”
He stared at her. “I just can’t figure you out.”
“Yeah, well. Maybe that’s for the best. Shall we go?” She started off in the direction of The Nesting Place, not waiting for him to follow.
“Casey—” He trotted to catch up with her.
“So that’s what you have over Thomas? You know about his gambling?”
“Well, partly. That and the fact he’s been begging my dad for money. He’d be devastated if people found out about it.”
Casey winced. Having to ask Karl Willems for anything would be enough to send you into depression. Asking for huge amounts of money would be enough to incapacitate even the strongest person.
“Where’s Leila, anyway?” she said, noticing they were alone. “I’m assuming you didn’t leave her to walk back to her car by herself.”
“No. Todd drove her.”
“Bet she wasn’t too happy about that.”
Eric winced. “No. Not too happy.”
Casey stuck her script in her jacket pocket. “Did you have a chance to say anything to Jack?”
“About the dryers? Yeah. I told him, and Aaron, too, what Johnny said. It didn’t mean anything to either of them, but they promised they’d think about it.”
They walked in silence for a few more steps.
“Casey…”
“Yeah?”
He waited a few more moments, began to speak, then stopped. “Did one of HomeMaker’s dryers actually kill somebody?”
“I guess it’s possible. But you’d expect the culprit to be something electrical, not a door latch. Or something like a heating element that could burn a house down.”
“Yeah.”
Eric fell silent as they passed under a streetlight and turned a corner on the sidewalk. “I think I remember.”
“Remember what?“
“What I was talking to Karl about in that video. I can’t imagine it would have anything to do with… It was about Home Sweet Home. I wanted HomeMaker to chip in some money for it. A charitable donation, to help those who had lost jobs.”
“And what did Karl say?”
“What do you think? That the company was having enough financial troubles on its own, which was why they’re leaving town in the first place. HomeMaker couldn’t afford to be sponsoring anything else.”
“Of course.” No charity for the people he was sending tumbling toward poverty. “Did he give Thomas money?”
Eric shrugged. “I don’t know. On the one hand I could see him doing it, since he’s an old family friend.” He spat the word. “But he could just as easily have told him to forget it, and take his lumps like a man.”
“It would’ve been a lot of money, right? Which Karl could probably afford.”
“I guess.”
“That still doesn’t answer why Todd was at his office that day. And why he was so angry. Todd said it was personal. There was no reason he would know anything about Thomas. Unless Karl told him.”
“On the other hand, maybe Karl gave Thomas some money and Todd was there to try to talk him out of it. He would know Karl’s money dealings better than anybody, although I’m not sure why it would’ve made him so mad. Unless Karl was using HomeMaker money.” He waved his script at her. “Either way, the visit to Karl’s office would have nothing to do with Ellen.”
“Except that she ate at Home Sweet Home.”
“What?”
“That’s what we were talking about. Your visit, and that Karl wouldn’t give you any money for your charity. And Ellen ate there.”
“Served there.”
“Okay.”
He sighed. “All right. She ate there, too. Along with her kids.”
Casey wanted to take his hand. To comfort him.
“Do it.”
She jerked away from him and glared at Death.
“Come on,” Death said. “Hold his hand. It would be so cute.”
Casey shoved her hands into her pockets.
“Aww,” Death said. “You are so boring. Oh!” Death glanced behind them and raised a fist. “Yes! Things are about to get a lot more interesting.” Death was gone.
Casey stopped, allowing Eric to get several steps ahead before he turned. “What is it?”
She held up a hand, watching under the streetlight they’d passed seconds before.
Two men came around the corner. Two men she’d seen before, talking to Thomas. Taffy and Bone.
They saw her. And they saw Eric.
Casey’s brain shifted gears. Her breathing deepened, and her muscles relaxed, even as her nerves tingled. She stepped in front of Eric. “Can I help you gentlemen?”
They stopped ten feet away. Taffy, as she’d noticed before, had a wrestler’s physique. Huge and thick under a loosely fitting jacket and black dress pants. He smiled. “I think you might just be able to, little lady.”
“And how would that be?”
He glanced at Bone, who hadn’t even a hint of a smile on his feral-looking face. “If you could just tell us who sent you to this tiny little town. The cops? Our…friends across town in Kentucky?”
“No one sent me. And I’ve never been to Kentucky.”
He continued smiling, nodding as if she’d said something clever. “That’s what Mr. Black told us you’d say.”
“Thomas?” Eric’s voice had gone tight, and high.
Casey waved at him to shut up, not turning from the men. “It’s the truth.”
“I see. I guess your definition of truth is different from ours.”
“I guess so.”
He was talkative. Very large, and very talkative. Casey figured he was already deciding how quickly he would take her down if she didn’t comply. His overconfidence was obvious in his swagger, and in the look in his eye.
Casey breathed in through her nose. To her left sat a car. A Pontiac, blocking the way. To her right sat a row of homes, a few large trees, windows with lights shining, TVs flickering. Behind her, Eric, who didn’t have a clue what was about to happen.
The man on the left, Bone, the one who had almost discovered her behind the theater’s curtains, he was the scary one. About a hundred pounds shy of his partner, his body was lean and wiry, his face all cheekbone and jaw. His eyes, expressionless above a nose that had been broken and badly reset, watched Casey, while the rest of him remained still. His arms hung loose at his sides, hands open, his feet spread shoulder-width. He had no jacket, and no gun that Casey could see. That didn’t mean he didn’t have something else.
“I’d like to talk with you a little longer,” Taffy said. “Just so’s we can get straight exactly what the truth is.”
“That would be good,” Casey said. “To get at the truth.”
Taffy stepped forward, his hand out, as if to shake.
“Eric,” Casey said under her breath. “Run away.”
“What?”
“Run!”
She would’ve run, too, and with the element of surprise could’ve outdistanced the two thugs in seconds, but she couldn’t leave Eric. Not with these two.
Casey slid her hand into Taffy’s, but instead of shaking it she torqued his thumb, jamming the pressure point, bringing him to his knees. As he dropped she jerked up her knee, crushing his nose. He fell forward, unconscious, and Casey grabbed the back of his shirt, and his chin, spinning him down and forward, between her and Bone.
Now Bone was smiling.
“You—” Eric said.
Casey turned and shoved him away. “Run!”
This time he listened.
Casey heard Bone coming, but didn’t have time to turn before his fist slammed into her kidney. She fell to the ground, gasping, clutching her side, and rolled to the left as his foot came down where her back had been.