Deadly Accusations (24 page)

“You bet.” He watched her. “Be careful over there, okay?”

“I will, and thanks.” Maybe getting away would be good. Marie might call it selfish and even cowardly to take off, but survival, psychological and physical, sometimes required selfish acts. “I'll leave after tomorrow morning's class, stay the night, and take a ferry back first thing Thursday.”

Wesley stepped out of the building and headed for one of two buses still in the yard. He spotted Casey and Stan, and gave them a curt nod.

“Aren't you usually at the gym in the mornings?” she called, and walked toward him.

“Too many guys called in sick.”

There'd been a lot of sick calls lately. People not wanting to work at a place with horrible morale. Two of Mainland's admin staff greeted Casey and Stan on their way into the building. She'd noticed a couple of other friendly greetings this morning. Were staff finally believing that she wasn't investigating Jasmine's death? If this was really true, would she be even going to Parksville?

“Wes, we just found out that the bullet in the bus came from the same gun used on Marie's place,” Casey said. “A Glock twenty-seven.”

“Shit, it's probably mine.”

“So I heard,” Stan said as he joined them.

Wesley looked at her. “You told him, too?”

“No, Eisler did.” She detected a glimmer of respect on that big hairy face.

Wesley rolled his eyes. “They were ripped off from my apartment,” he told Stan. “Two Glocks and a rifle. The thirty-five was used on Jasmine.”

Roberto pulled his Corvette into a parking stall. The moment Roberto stepped out, Wesley charged toward him. “Your alibi's shit, de Luca!”

Casey cringed.

Roberto slammed the door shut. “Mind your own damn business.”

He squinted in the sunlight as Wesley moved to within arm's length of him. Compared to Wesley, Roberto was short and spindly. Wesley could have Roberto on the ground and writhing in two seconds.

“Your gun killed Jasmine,” Roberto said. “Maybe you're the liar.”

Casey held her breath. Who'd told him about the gun? Wesley flexed his fingers and narrowed his eyes. He looked like he wanted to tear Roberto's head off. Why was Roberto poking the bear? He'd never win a fight with Wesley.

“You weren't at no dentist when Jasmine died,” Wesley said.

Roberto started to walk away.

Stan leaned close to Casey and whispered, “Is that true?”

“I think so.” She saw Marie drive into the lot.

“She was my friend!” Wesley shouted, following Roberto toward the garage at the far end of the yard. “For some dumb reason she loved you and you treated her like shit! I ought to kick your ass from here to hell.”

Roberto gave Wesley the finger and kept walking.

Wesley started after him, but Stan moved fast and grabbed his arm. “Violence will get you fired, Wes. Eisler's probably watching right now.”

As far as Casey knew, Stan was the only man at Mainland who could touch Rude Wesley Axelson without getting hurt, but Stan was a big guy; a former pro football player not intimidated by anyone.

“Where were you when Jasmine was shot, de Luca?” Wesley yelled.

“Ask the cops!”

Casey counted six staff members who'd stopped to listen. Worse, Marie was heading toward Roberto.

“If you have an alibi,” Marie said, “why did you tell people you were at the dentist?”

“Because it's got nothing to do with Jasmine!”

Marie plunked her hands on her hips and gave him the same impatient look Casey had seen a million times. “We'll find out sooner or later, so you might as well talk.”

Casey groaned. Marie couldn't afford to make more enemies. Didn't she care that she had to work with these people, and that the tension she created affected everyone?

Wesley yelled, “Tell her, you piece of crap!”

Stan stayed close to Wesley.

Roberto spun around. “I was with a married woman. Happy now?”

“All morning?” Marie asked. “Who is she?”

“She's not with Mainland. That's all you need to know.”

“And we're supposed to believe you?” Wesley said.

“Ask the cops.”

Casey believed him. Some of Roberto's trysts had bothered his conscience enough to confide in her. He'd been with married women before and had skipped work more than once for a hot romance.

“What about your alibi, Wes?” Roberto asked. “How many guys did you pay to say you were at the gym that morning?”

“Those jerks wouldn't lie for me.”

Also probably true. Casey recalled the competitiveness and animosity between wrestlers.

“I'm shocked, seeing as how you're such a nice guy,” Roberto remarked, and headed for the garage.

Wesley swore and charged toward the buses.

“It looks like Roberto and Wesley have alibis too.” Casey turned to Marie. “And let's not forget Eisler's job interview.”

“Do you actually think Wesley's telling the truth?”

“Yeah, I saw him in action at the gym. Those guys aren't friends, they're rivals. If anyone saw a way to throw him in jail, they might just do it.”

“I talked to the janitors and they said the message wasn't on our lockers when they were cleaning.”

Casey wasn't going to waste time worrying about it. She wandered toward the M10, wondering where Lou was.

“Only two female drivers worked the early shift,” Marie said, keeping up with her, “and three clerical workers started at eight-thirty. I showed them a sample of the color and two of them said that Ingrid sometimes wears a dark shade like that. I think I've seen it on her too.”

“What can you do about it?”

“Report her for harassment and defacing company property,” Marie said. “Did you get a phone call from Hannah O'Reilly last night?”

“Yes, and why did you give her my name? What's wrong with you?”

Lou roared into the depot and screeched to a halt.

“Sorry, but I can't travel far from my kids. They're upset enough about not being able to come home. At least Summer's old enough to understand.”

Lou jogged up to them.

“Morning, Lou,” Marie said. “Casey got a call from Jasmine's mother last night.”

Casey fumed. Would she ever stop stirring things up?

“I know.” He stopped at the entrance. “I'd like to talk to Casey privately a minute.”

Marie looked disappointed. “A minute's about all you have or we'll be late.”

As she boarded the M10, Casey and Lou strolled out of earshot.

“Are you going to Parksville?” he asked.

“I think so, yeah. I'm worried about Hannah. She was scared that Gabrielle would destroy the letters, which makes me wonder if there's something nasty about her in them.”

“What about Summer?”

“She's okay with me going.”

“I'm not sure I am.” Lou's gaze was intense. “You'll be on your own over there.”

“As long as you and Stan are the only people who know when I'm leaving, I'll be fine. I'll make sure I'm not being tailed. By the way, the ballistics test came back. The bullet in the bus came from a Glock twenty-seven; the same gun used on Marie's house.”

“Shit.”

“Roberto has a new alibi, verified by the cops. It seems he was having fun with a married woman.”

“Come on, you two!” Marie shouted.

Lou shook his head. “Who's doing this?”

“I don't know. All the more reason to find out what Jasmine wrote in those letters.”

“What if you run into Gabrielle? Isn't she a suspect too?”

“Since we've never met, she won't know who I am.”

“When are you leaving?”

“After class tomorrow. Will you feed the critters while I'm gone? It will only be twenty-four hours, and I swear I'll make it up to you. I'll make everything up to you, promise.”

Lou studied her a moment, then kissed her cheek. “Tell me how later.”

CASEY TOOK A DEEP YOGA
breath, realizing too late that she'd just filled her lungs with the smell of antiseptic. She blew the air out fast and shook the tension from her shoulders before knocking on Hannah O'Reilly's door. The door was one of a dozen lining the spacious corridor inside Grantwood Manor, although “manor” was too grand a word for this single-story structure. The immaculate lawn and vibrant rose gardens separated by footpaths were impressive, though.

Despite Stan's and Summer's support, Casey had had second thoughts about coming here; however, Hannah phoned again last night and tearfully begged her to come read the letters as soon as possible. It seemed Gabrielle suspected Hannah of hiding something, and Hannah was convinced that Gabrielle would soon search her room.

Casey knocked on the door, and looked up and down the hallway. If it wasn't for the telltale hospital smell, this place could be mistaken for a hotel. Landscape paintings were strategically spaced between sconces illuminating the corridor.

“Just a minute,” a woman answered.

Once Casey had exited the ferry and begun the half-hour drive north to Parksville, misgivings about this trip had started to magnify. By the time she'd cleared Nanaimo's long sprawl of big box stores, shopping malls, fast food joints, and other businesses, anxiety had really kicked in.

The doorknob turned slowly. When a tall, white-haired woman with Jasmine's sapphire eyes peered at her, Casey was taken aback. She'd pictured Hannah as a stooped, feeble old lady, not this erect, confident-looking woman. The only evidence of her stroke was a slight droop on the right side of her mouth.

“Casey?”

“Yes, hi.”

“Welcome.” Hannah stepped back. “Please come in.”

Casey entered a spacious room containing bedroom furniture and a sitting area at the far end. An alcove off the sitting area contained a small sink, bar fridge, and toaster oven. French doors opened onto a large, enclosed courtyard filled with orchids, gardenias, and other tropical flowers.

“This is far nicer than I would have expected from a government facility,” Casey said.

“Actually, it's a private care facility, which essentially means that the place is an overpriced transition house. Residents here don't need full nursing care, but they still can't quite manage on their own yet.”

Not cheap, Casey thought; yet Parksville was a picturesque, oceanside resort town with enough golf courses and activities to attract plenty of well-off retirees.

“Come, let's sit down.” Hannah strolled past the wheelchair by her bed and chose a cushioned chair at the round glass table. Judging from her smooth gait, she didn't need the wheelchair, at least for short distances.

Casey spotted the flat-screen, wall-mounted
TV
above a chest of drawers opposite the bed. The walls were mauve and the quilt on Hannah's twin bed was dark purple with yellow and white flowers. An oil painting of lilacs hung above the bed. Violet plants sat on tabletops. Casey wondered if every room was a tribute to the many shades of purple, or whether Hannah had customized it with bedding and flowers.

“Coffee?” A pot, two cups and saucers, and a plate of sugar cookies were on the table.

“That'd be great, thanks.”

“Would you mind pouring? My arm isn't quite strong enough to lift a full pot. It took both hands just to get the stupid thing to the table.”

Casey began to pour. “I'm glad you called me back last night. I was worried about you.”

“I realized that I must have sounded like a frantic nut after my initial call.” Hannah clasped her hands together and rested them on the table. “I was just so shocked to spot Gabrielle coming down the hall.” She nodded toward the courtyard. “She rarely visits these days.”

Casey saw a row of windows at the end of the courtyard and recognized the lobby. “I'm sorry if this sounds nosy, but why do you think Gabrielle would destroy your letters?”

“She thinks I'm losing my memory and have forgotten about my grandson. She wouldn't want me to have any reminders of Jeremy or his mother.”

“She didn't get along with Jasmine?”

“She doesn't want to share a million-dollar inheritance with her nephew. She's resentful enough that her brothers will each inherit the same.” Hannah slurped her coffee. “As long as Gabrielle thinks I'm weak and forgetful, she's less likely to snoop into my affairs.” Hannah slid the cookie plate toward her. “Help yourself.”

“Thanks.” While Hannah slowly poured cream into her coffee, Casey noticed an eight-by-ten photo of four school-age children on the night table. “Nice looking kids.”

“My grandchildren.”

Casey drank the coffee. Good and strong. “I guess Jasmine was your first child?”

“My third, actually. Her two half brothers are older and Gabrielle is three years younger. I know this sounds odd, Miss Holland.”