Free Dead People by Edie Ramer Page 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