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  “Good idea.” He sighed, looking down at the small bundle. Death didn’t just make a body motionless; it reduced it to a lump, devoid of the tension and inherent grace that the sheer force of life imparted to muscles. He didn’t see how anyone could ever think a dead person was asleep, because the whole aspect of the body was so different. Alive, the girl had been a beauty, with an innocent spark that would have brought the money rolling in. Dead, she was nothing.

  “I’ll call Phillips, let him know what happened, and what we’re doing about Mitchell.” Temple didn’t look forward to the call, because he hated to admit when he’d made a mistake, and the decision to hire Mitchell had been his.

  Well, it was a mistake that would soon be rectified. Mitchell had dosed his last girl with GHB.

  FOUR

  Daisy stood in the rain and stared at the small, shabby house on Lassiter Avenue that was her last hope. The white paint was peeling, the few scraggly shrubs desperately needed trimming, the weed-choked yard looked as if it hadn’t been mowed all summer, and the roof over the front porch sagged. The screen on the door was torn loose from the frame on one side, and one window sported a giant crack. On the plus side, the small backyard was fenced. She tried hard to find some more pluses, but came up blank. On the other hand, it was available.

  “Let me find the key and we’ll go inside,” the owner, Mrs. Phipps, said as she dug in her voluminous shoulder bag. Mrs. Phipps wasn’t quite five feet tall, was almost as big around, and her hair was arranged—or maybe it grew that way—in huge white puffs that looked like wispy clouds. She puffed as she made her way up the broken sidewalk, skirting one section that was completely gone.

  “It’s nothing fancy,” she warned, though Daisy wondered why she thought any warning was necessary. “Just a living room, kitchen, two bedrooms, and a bathroom, but me and E. B. raised two kids here just fine. When E. B. passed on, my kids bought me a trailer and we put it in back of my oldest boy’s house, so I have somebody close if I take sick or something. I didn’t want to get rid of this old place, though. It was home for a long time. Plus the rent money helps out.”

  The sagging wooden porch seemed to give a little more under Mrs. Phipps’s weight; Daisy hung back, in case she was needed to go for help in the event Mrs. Phipps fell through the floor. But she reached the door without incident, and wrestled with the recalcitrant lock. Finally the key turned, and Mrs. Phipps heaved a grunt of accomplishment. “Here we go. I cleaned up after the last bunch cleared out, so you don’t have to worry about trash or anything like that.”

  The house was clean, Daisy saw with relief as she stepped inside. The smell was musty, of course, but it was the odor of emptiness, not of filth.

  The rooms were small, the kitchen barely big enough to cram in a small table and two chairs, so she couldn’t imagine how crowded it had been with a family of four. The floors were all cracked sheet linoleum, but they could be covered with area rugs. The bathroom was small, too, but at some point the tub had been replaced with a blue fiberglass tub and shower unit that didn’t match the white toilet and sink. A small space heater jutted from the wall.

  Silently she walked through the rooms again, trying to imagine them with lamps and curtains and cozy furniture. If she took the house, she would have to buy window units for air-conditioning, rugs for the floors, kitchen appliances, and furniture for the living room. She already had her bedroom furniture, thank goodness, but unless she bought the cheapest stuff she could find, she could expect to spend about six thousand dollars getting the place habitable. Thank God she didn’t live in a section of the country where the cost of living was high, or she would be looking at an expenditure of at least twice that amount. She had the money—that wasn’t a problem—but she’d never spent such a large sum in her life. Her stomach clenched in panic at the very thought.

  She could spend the money, or she could retreat to her mother’s house and live there until she grew old and died. Alone.

  “I’ll take it,” she said aloud, the words sounding strange and faraway, as if someone else had said them.

  Mrs. Phipps’s chubby pink face brightened. “You will? I didn’t—that is, you didn’t seem like the kind. . . This used to be a right nice street, but the neighborhood’s gone down, and...” She ran out of steam, unable to express her astonishment.

  Daisy could sympathize. Only a week ago—goodness, even yesterday!—she couldn’t have imagined herself living here, either.

  She might be desperate, but she wasn’t pathetic. She folded her arms and put on her best librarian’s face. “The front porch badly needs repairs. I’ll handle it for you, if you like, if you’ll take the amount of the repairs in lieu of the same amount of rent.”

  Mrs. Phipps crossed her arms, too. “Why would I do that?”

  “You’ll be out that amount of ready cash, true, but in the long run your property will be worth more and you’ll be able to charge more rent the next time.” Daisy hoped Mrs. Phipps was one who could see the long-term benefit, rather than thinking of only the rent money. Daisy had no idea how much the repairs would cost, but the rent was just a hundred and twenty dollars a month, so Mrs. Phipps could be looking at several months without any rent income.

  “I don’t think I can go without the extra money for that long,” Mrs. Phipps said doubtfully.

  Daisy thought quickly. “How about every other month? Could you handle that? I pay for the repairs now, then I pay no rent every other month until I recoup my money. Or you pay for the repairs and raise the rent a little.”

  Mrs. Phipps shifted her weight. “I don’t have that kind of cash to throw around. Okay, we’ll do it your way. But I want it in writing. And I want the first month’s rent; then we’ll start that every-other-month thing. None of the utilities are included, either.”

  For a hundred and twenty dollars a month, Daisy hadn’t assumed they were. She beamed and held out her hand. “It’s a deal,” she said, and they shook hands on it.

  “Kinda small,” Aunt Jo commented early that evening as she and Daisy’s mother inspected Daisy’s new digs.

  “It’ll do just fine,” Evelyn said stoutly. “A coat of paint and some nice curtains will work wonders. Anyway, it isn’t as if she’s going to live here for very long. She’ll find someone special in no time at all. Daisy, honey, if there’s anything in the attic you want, just take it.” She took another look around the little house. “Just what sort of decor do you have in mind?” she asked doubtfully, as if she couldn’t think of anything that would truly help the looks of the house.

  “Cozy and comfortable,” Daisy said. “It’s too small to try for anything else. You know, overstuffed chairs with afghans thrown across them, that kind of thing.”

  “Hmmph,” Aunt Jo said. “Only afghan I ever saw wouldn’t stay put unless you tied him down. Stupidest dog in the world.”

  They all began giggling. Aunt Jo’s sense of humor tended to the absurd, and both Daisy and her mother greatly enjoyed the flights of fancy.

  “You will need a dog,” Evelyn said suddenly, looking around. “Or burglar bars on the windows and an alarm system.”

  Burglar bars and an alarm system would add another thousand to her growing expenses. Daisy said, “I’ll start looking for a dog.” Besides, a dog would be company. She had never lived alone, so a dog would help ease the transition. Having a pet again would be nice; it had been eight years—my goodness, that long!—since the last family pet had died of old age.

  “When do you think you’ll move in?” Aunt Jo asked.

  “I don’t know.” Doubtfully, Daisy looked around. “The utilities have to be turned on, but that won’t take long. I’ll have to buy kitchen appliances and have them delivered, shop for furniture and rugs, put up curtains. And paint. It definitely needs a new coat of paint.”

  Evelyn sniffed. “A good landlady would have repainted after the last tenants left.”

  “The rent is a hundred and twenty a month. Fresh paint doesn’t come with the deal.”