Deadly Accusations (22 page)

CASEY PULLED INTO HER PARKING
spot at home and tried to ignore her growing migraine. The aspirin she'd taken earlier had dulled it a bit, but the pain was returning with a vengeance. Neither her goose egg nor today's uneventful shift on the M10 was the cause; it was the escalating tension among Mainland staff.

Word had gotten around about this morning's nastiness between Marie and coworkers and now most employees were avoiding Marie. Some even glared at her. A few colleagues gave Casey sympathetic nods, while others had steered clear of her as well. Judging from Marie's blazing eyes and pinched lips, their behavior ticked her off. Casey didn't see much hope for a truce. There were too many questions and too few answers. Here she was, reduced to looking over her shoulder every five minutes, running from danger like a scared rabbit.

A sharp pain exploded in her head and her vision blurred. Casey scrunched her eyes shut. Oh, crap. She usually didn't get migraines this severe, but when she did the only remedy was medication and sleep.

Casey stepped out of the car. Her open door tapped Winifred's green Buick. Man, would the old crone never leave? Casey had told her about the shot and the caller's warning Friday night, hoping the news would send Winifred packing.

Winifred was at the stove, stirring something beefy-smelling in the soup pot. Casey's stomach grumbled. As she started toward the hallway, Winifred said, “My lawyer thinks we have a strong case for obtaining guardianship of Summer, especially since some bloody maniac's trying to kill you.”

Casey's jaw clenched as she turned around. “We'll see what Rhonda says about this.”

“I don't care what she says. We wouldn't be in this mess if she hadn't killed someone, and if you didn't go around making people want to kill you.”

“What a nice thing to say. No wonder Summer doesn't want to live with you.”

Winifred spun around. “How dare you talk to me that way.”

“How dare you try to take a child who doesn't want to be with you.” Casey's patience evaporated. “And why are you still here?”

“Someone has to keep this place from becoming a condemned pigsty.” Winifred turned to the pot.

Casey's heart pounded in her chest. “You're no longer welcome in our home, Winfred. I want you out by the end of the day.”

“I will not be ordered about by you.”

Lou knocked on the door and peered through the window. Grateful for the distraction, she waved him in.

Lou looked at the scowling Winifred. “Nice to see you again, ma'am.”

Winifred huffed as Casey led Lou down the hallway, up the stairs, and into her apartment.

“Winifred's talked to a lawyer.” She shut the door. “The old bat's going after full custody.”

“You need to tell Rhonda.”

“I know.”

The guinea pigs started whistling. Wincing at the noise, she placed her fingertips on her temples.

“Are you okay?” Lou asked.

“Migraine.” She headed for the refrigerator. “There's still a beer in the fridge, if you want.”

“No, thanks. You need to rest, so I won't stay long.” He joined her in the kitchen. “Let me help.” He took the lettuce and carrots from her. “How's Summer doing?”

“She's enjoying your mom's big-screen
TV
.” Casey rubbed her temples again. “I called her before I came home. Summer wanted to know if Rhonda had phoned, and then asked if she could call the prison. I said no because I want to talk to her mom first.”

“Is she okay with that?”

“Not really.” Casey sat on the cushioned seat in the bay window.

Lou glanced at her phone on his way to the cages. “Your message light's blinking.”

Casey pressed the button. Two seconds later, Rhonda's voice filled the room. Casey froze. Lou spun around.

“Sorry I took so long to call back,” Rhonda said, her voice weak. “I caught a rotten bug. Anyway, you said Summer needs to talk to me. I hope my baby's okay.” Her voice cracked. “I'll call between seven and eight tonight. Make sure Summer's there. Bye.”

“She sounded shaky,” Lou said.

Casey looked at her watch, but couldn't see the time through her tears.

Lou gave her a comforting hug. “Tough to hear her after all these weeks, isn't it?”

She nodded and pulled a tissue from her pocket. Ralphie stood on hind legs, propped his paws against the wire, and whistled so loudly that Casey covered her ears. Lou gave him a piece of carrot.

When the phone rang, she grabbed it.

“Hi, it's Noel. I tried Gabrielle's number all weekend, but there was no answer.”

“She might have been away. Maybe she'll be back tonight.”

“Do you know where she works?”

“I don't even know if she has a job.” She watched Lou feed the animals.

He paused. “Is life any better at Mainland?”

Was he truly concerned, or just lonely for conversation? Or was Noel as interested in her as Marie had implied? “It got worse today. Marie argued with a couple of drivers and interrogated Roberto. She needs to back off, Noel.”

Lou turned to the guinea pigs.

“I was afraid she'd go off the deep end.”

“Me too, but if she doesn't learn to control her emotions and her mouth, she could get herself suspended.”

“I'll talk to her. Keep me posted on any new developments, okay?”

“Sure, bye.”

Lou headed back to the fridge. “Noel wasn't asking you to keep investigating, was he?”

“He wanted me to know that his own efforts weren't going anywhere.”

“Does this mean you'll still help him?”

“I've been debating that all weekend.” She returned to the window seat. “Marie said that since the killer thinks I'm investigating, I might as well keep going. Maybe she has a point. The sooner we get this psycho, the safer Summer will be.”

“I don't know about that.”

When Lou disappeared behind the fridge door, Casey sighed. Whenever he didn't like what he was hearing, he kept busy. “For a few moments today, I wondered if Marie was the killer, seeing as how she had the ball cap and glasses at the time Jasmine was killed, but I can't see her arranging for someone to shoot a bullet into her son's room.”

“You're right, she wouldn't.”

“Still, I'm not sure she and Jasmine were as close as Marie wanted people to think. I mean, both Noel and Wesley knew stuff about Jasmine that she didn't.”

Lou closed the door and wandered toward her. “I've been working up the courage to ask you something. It's why I came over.” Trepidation clouded his face. “Part of me thinks I'm making something out of nothing, but then . . .” He looked away.

Lou's discomfort was making her edgy. “What do you want to know?”

He cleared his throat. “Is Noel Merryweather as interested in you as Marie said?”

So that was it. In the four months they'd been a couple, Lou had never shown insecurity or jealousy, but then she'd never been physically attracted to another man during that time either. He had seemed a little distant on the M10 today. Casey had noticed that he'd kept looking at her, but not in a happy-you're-with-me way. More in a I'm-not-sure-about-you way.

“Noel hasn't asked me out or anything, but if he did, I'd say no.” He didn't look convinced. “You realize Marie's trying to use her brother to come between us, don't you?”

“Kind of, yeah.” Lou gripped her hands. “You know she and I will never happen, right?”

“Yes. Noel and I will never happen, either.”

“Are you sure?”

“Totally.” Again she saw the doubt. “This isn't like you.”

“It's just that you sound kind of funny whenever you mention his name.”

“I do?”

“It's subtle, but it's there.”

She'd had no idea. “If I sound funny, it's mainly because he's part of something you didn't want me involved with.”

“You said mainly.” He paused. “What's the other part?”

“Well, he is a charismatic, good-looking guy.”

“Then you're attracted to him?”

If she lied, he'd probably sense it. “Physically, yeah, a bit; but not emotionally. Obviously, I don't trust the man.”

“If you did, would that attraction become emotional?”

“Lou, you're the one I want to be with.” She smiled when he embraced her. “I know I'm not good at saying so, but you really do mean the world to me.”

“I should have told you the same more often too, hon, especially when I've been so worried about us. I mean, things have been kind of weird lately. The last thing I need is competition.”

“You don't have any.” Man, she'd never seen him so insecure. Casey closed her eyes and again rubbed her temples. She wished Marie had never introduced her to Noel.

“Can I get you something for the migraine?”

“No, I'll take a couple of pills and rest in a minute.”

“I guess you won't be going to bowling practice tonight?”

“Sorry, no.”

Lou watched her. “Are you sure I can't do anything for you?”

“Yeah.”

He walked to the door and then kissed her. “Feel better, sweetheart.”

“Thanks.” She listened to him jog down the stairs until her phone rang. Casey flinched, and then hurried to pick it up before her head exploded. “Hello?”

“Is this Casey Holland?” a frail female voice asked.

“Who is this?”

“I'm Hannah O'Reilly, Jasmine Birch's mother.”

HANNAH O'REILLY WAS CALLING HER?
What could she possibly want?

Casey plunked into the rocking chair. “Uh, hello.”

“Have I called at a bad time?” The woman sounded uncertain. “Marie Crenshaw said I should contact you.”

“This is fine.” She'd kick Marie's butt tomorrow. “I'm not sure why she referred you to me, though.”

“She said you've been looking into my daughter's murder. The police won't tell me much, you see.” Hannah cleared her throat. “Marie said you went to her ex-husband's place to check on my grandson, but that you didn't see him.”

Casey closed her eyes and massaged her forehead. She'd really let Marie have it. “I couldn't get close to Birch's trailer because he was home, and I only went as a favor to Marie. I'm not investiga—”

“I hear that Birch has an alibi,” Hannah interrupted, “which is troubling, given the disgusting way he treated her. She wrote me about it, in detail.”

Casey opened her eyes. “Emails?”

“Letters. I had a stroke, you see, so talking on the phone became difficult. I asked Jasmine to write down everything I missed while she was growing up. I was afraid of another stroke, and wanted to know everything about her. The experience has been, well . . .” A sob broke through Hannah's words.

“I'm sorry,” Casey murmured. “I can't imagine what you're going through.”

“Thank you. I'd planned to have her visit, but then this stupid illness happened. I was too proud to let her see me as an old, drooling invalid, so I asked her to wait until my rehabilitation was nearly over. Jasmine was making plans to come here when . . .” Another sob.

Poor woman. Giving up a daughter, and then finding her again, only to lose her this way had to be unbearable.

“Marie also said you saw a woman with Birch in that trailer.”

Casey rested her head against the chair. “Yes.”

“About a month ago, Jasmine called and said she'd seen a woman in Birch's car.”

“Did Jasmine recognize her, by any chance, or describe her to you?”

“No, but she did say that Birch used to flaunt his girlfriends in her face, although he didn't this time. Anyway, I have a very special request to make, dear.”

“Oh?” She didn't like the sound of this.

“Since you worked with Jasmine and would therefore know many of the people she mentioned in her letters, would you read them?”

“I, uh, don't quite understand why you'd want me to.”

“If Birch truly is innocent, then someone else shot my daughter.”

Casey's head pounded and she felt queasy. “I don't—”

“According to the letters, Jasmine had conflicts with a few people, and one or two of them were from Mainland Public Transport.”

Casey gazed at the rodent cages in front of her bookshelf. She envied those little guys, eating, resting, and playing; no complicated decisions to make. As she headed for the bathroom, she said, “Did Jasmine mention anyone she was especially worried about?”

“No one, other than Birch.”

“Shouldn't you give the letters to the police?”

“Marie said the
RCMP
suspect her brother, so why would they listen to me? And I just can't believe Mr. Merryweather killed her. Jasmine wrote so many kind things about him.”

Presumably, Hannah hadn't heard about the returned engagement ring. Hadn't it occurred to her that Jasmine had only written what she'd wanted her mother to know and that her viewpoint might be biased?