Deadly Accusations (32 page)

While Casey understood the cops' determination to catch the shooter, their presence was a waste of time. No one at Mainland, except Stan, knew she was on duty tonight, and she'd made sure she wasn't followed to work. Still, the cavalry was here; ready to protect, defend, arrest, and annoy.

As Wesley drove under the Pattullo Bridge, Casey shifted forward in her seat. A few pedestrians were walking down the sidewalk, or entering bistros and restaurants on this cold, dry Friday night. As usual, traffic was heavy and slow, not only because of the many traffic lights, but because parking was allowed on the street.

The M6 cruised into the hot zone and passed a man with a loping gait, dark hoodie, and the same scraggly beard she'd seen the night of the shooting.

Casey stood and approached Wesley. “Let me off here. I want to talk to the man we just passed.”

“Dumb idea.”

“He's not the shooter, Wes. I was watching him walk away when it happened. Anyway, Undercover Man's here; you don't need me.”

The hairy bear scowled. The traffic light turned red and he stopped the bus. “What if he's the rockhound?”

“Then the only weapon he'd have is a rock and I can handle that.” Casey watched the guy catch up with the bus and then continue through the intersection, despite the red light. “Open the door, Wes.”

“It's still a stupid idea.” He did as asked.

“Wait for me at the next stop.”

“Hey,” Undercover Man shouted at her, “what do you think you're doing?”

“Going to talk to someone I saw the other night.”

“You can't do that.”

“If you're worried, radio your backup for help, but I'm going after that guy up ahead. He was nearby when I was shot at the other night and could have seen something.”

Before he could respond, she stepped onto the sidewalk and started walking while Wesley moved the M6 ahead. Zipping up her jacket, she breathed in the late October air, then exhaled slowly. In front of her, two blondes in short denim skirts, leather jackets, and high heels giggled and clung to each other as they tried to walk a straight line. Beyond them, a group of guys and girls strolled behind the bearded man. Strutting toward Casey and the blondes were three gangly teens who gawked at the girls.

The M6 stopped for a red light at Columbia and Fourth. Casey moved faster. Bearded Guy and the group of five were now beside the bus.

Casey waited for the geeks to pass by before she overtook the girls. She was still waiting when the sound of cracking glass made her flinch. Casey hurried past the girls as a man ran up Fourth Avenue.

“There goes someone's booze,” one of the blondes remarked. “What a waste.”

Ahead of them, someone yelled, “Whoa! He smashed the window!”

Casey spotted a man running toward her. The blondes were too busy laughing and staggering down the sidewalk to notice the approaching man.

Casey jumped in front of the pair,
ID
in hand. “Ladies, step out of the way, please. You're in danger.”

The runner spotted her and slowed down. He wasn't the bearded man. This one was short, sported a ball cap, and carried a white plastic bag.

She flashed her
ID
card at him. “
MPT
security! Stop right there!”

The blondes scurried away; the suspect stopped moving.

Casey edged closer to him. “Put the bag down.”

Behind the suspect, a uniformed officer jogged toward them. Farther down, Undercover Man talked to witnesses. Casey edged closer to the suspect until she was only two strides away from the suspect. She'd put in too many hours to let New Westminster police bust her rockhound.

“Get away!” He began pinwheeling his arm, swinging the bag in a circle.

Judging from the way the bag moved, there had to be at least one more rock inside. Curious that he'd brought a spare. Had he planned two strikes to make up for lost time? While the bag was high above his head, Casey rushed the guy and tackled him to ground. The man's cap fell off, exposing a bald head fringed with scraggly gray hair. Casey was about to handcuff him when the uniformed cop caught up to her.

“I'll take over from here, Miss.”

She grabbed the bag from the suspect.

“Give me my bag!”

Peering inside, Casey saw a large rock. The suspect lifted his head. Lines creased his brow and bracketed his mouth. The guy had to be at least forty-five, but he was fit enough to run up and down hills.

“I ain't done nothin'!”

“You broke a window on one of our buses.” Casey noticed Wesley marching toward her. “Police are interviewing witnesses now.”

“Prove it!” he shouted.

“Let's see some
ID
, sir,” the officer said.

“It's at home.”

“What's your name?”

“Avery.”

“Last or first?”

“I'm Avery Watts.”

Wesley caught up to her. “You okay?”

“Yeah, he ran right toward me. Go figure, huh?”

He mumbled something about a lucky break. “We found a good-sized rock on the sidewalk.”

Casey knelt down near Watts. “Yours, by any chance, sir?”

“No, I just found that bag a couple minutes ago.”

The officer helped him to his feet.

“It's amazing how technology can lift fingerprints off practically anything these days,” Casey said. “Seeing as how you aren't wearing gloves, I wonder what the technicians will find?”

She had no idea if prints really could be lifted off a rock, but he didn't need to know that. The officer started to read the rockhound his rights, but Watts cut him off. “Your lousy buses got what they deserved! I'm a good driver, I shoulda got a chance!”

The cop warned him about saying anything, but Watts didn't even look at him.

“Are you talking about working for
MPT
?” Casey asked.

“Damn straight. I sent in an application, but they didn't even call. It's not fair!”

“Mr. Watts,” the officer tried again. “I caution you not to say—”

“I deserve a shot at driving.” An approaching police siren caught Watts' attention. He turned to the officer. “Let's make a deal. I got information 'cause I saw the guy who shot the bus the other night.”

Wesley and Casey exchanged wary glances.

“He shot the stupid door and took off,” Watts went on. “He shouldn't have been on my turf.”

“Did you see his face?” Casey asked. “Could you identify him in a police line?”

“That depends on what I get out of it.”

When Undercover Man joined them, the uniformed cop filled him in on what was happening.

“I doubt this loser could pick anyone out of a line,” Wesley said. “The shooter wore a wide-brimmed hat.”

“True.” Casey's hopes sank.

“I saw him! The moron nearly knocked me over when he ran into the station. I was standing at the entrance.”

“Did you see the weapon?” Undercover Man asked.

“It was a handgun.”

The uniformed officer opened a notepad. “What did he look like?”

“About my age. Average height and weight.”

Casey stared at Watts. “A middle-aged man?”

Two police cruisers pulled up.

“Yeah, with dark watery eyes, and he had a big nose.”

Casey's mouth grew dry and the adrenaline soared. “Oh.”

“I ain't saying more till I see a lawyer.”

Undercover Man didn't look pleased. “Get him out of here.”

The officer escorted Watts into a cruiser.

“I know someone who fits that description,” Wesley murmured to Casey. “He was at the funeral, and I've seen him a couple of times when I was at Jasmine's place.”

“Me, too.”

“The apartment manager, right?”

“Yeah.” She shivered in the cool night air. “Paval Gallenski.”

DAMN IT, ANOTHER BLOODY COP
had dismissed her. Casey had lost track of the times she'd busted someone, called police to process the suspect, then once they arrived, had been brushed off in countless irritating ways. Tonight, Undercover Man had said, “We'll take over from here, Miss. Go back to your bus, and stay away from Mr. Gallenski.” She was almost sorry she'd told the New Westminster police about Paval. Corporal Lundy was the one who needed to know. Although Undercover Man assured her he'd contact Lundy, Casey had left her own message for the corporal.

Traffic was sparse now at ten-thirty, so Casey sped through the intersection, anxious to get home and then go see Summer. After a brief chat with Stan a half hour ago, she'd called Summer to tell her she'd caught the rockhound. She'd left out any reference to Paval.

“That's awesome. You won't have to work nights for a while,” Summer had said. “Can we celebrate with some double chocolate fudge ice cream? There's still a full carton in the fridge, and you could pick it up before you came over, right?”

Since it was Friday night and Casey felt like celebrating herself, she'd agreed. When she called Lou to give him a more detailed account of events, his response was less positive.

“For god's sake, Casey, you were in Paval's apartment yesterday. You could have been killed.”

“Only if I'd accused him of murder, and I'm not that stupid.”

“This freak passes himself off as a gentle guy who loves kids and pets, when he actually killed two women, beat up a senior, and threatened kids' lives. God knows what he's done to the babies he looks after.”

After Lou's tirade, he told her that his sister had brought his truck back from Parksville and that he insisted on picking her up. “Pack a bag,” he'd added. “We're not staying there until the bastard's caught. I'll be there in twenty minutes.”

His call had left her edgy. She thought about phoning Marie to tell her what had happened, but she was furious with her. Marie's friendship with Paval had made it easy for him track her movements. He must have seen the gun rack in Wesley's truck when Wes had visited Jasmine. Paval could have asked Jasmine about Wesley's interest in firearms. When he decided to kill Jasmine, he probably broke into Wesley's apartment.

Now she understood why Jasmine had kept those two photos in her locker. She'd probably found them while searching the Gallenskis' place for her missing jewelry. It would have been like Jasmine to confront Paval about the photos, or accuse Ursula of stealing. No wonder she'd planned to move away and hadn't been that upset when Stan suspended her.

Paval could have seen Jasmine leave to pick Jeremy up from preschool. She might have gone to the church early that day to avoid spending more time at home than necessary. Still, Paval looked after little kids weekdays, so how had he pulled it off? Noel's van was stolen at 3:00
AM
. Had Ursula driven him there, or had he gone himself and left his car within walking distance of Noel's house? Noel had been to Jasmine's apartment many times, so maybe he knew what Paval drove. If he did, he could ask his neighbors if they'd seen the vehicle. It was a long shot, but worth a try.

Casey drove past Rhonda's big old house on the corner and made a right turn into the lane behind the house. She pulled into her parking spot and, turning off the engine, studied the house. As expected, the lights on the main floor and in her third-floor suite were out. The two studio suites on the second floor were also in darkness. The tenants' cars weren't parked at their usual spots, but they were rarely home these days. She didn't blame them for wanting to stay away. The students had come home when the police and paramedics were here yesterday, and she had to tell them about Winifred. Both girls were understandably nervous about being here until the assailant was caught.

Casey looked at the dying cedar hedge separating Rhonda's property from the sidewalk on Violet. Scanning the yard, she hurried out of her car, up the steps, and into the kitchen, locking the door behind her. She flipped on the light and listened to the silent house.

She peered into the refrigerator's freezer to make sure the double chocolate fudge was there. Having access to a fridge here on the ground floor and another in her apartment had proven handy when it came to keeping the fattening food out of easy reach.

Casey marched down the dark hallway and upstairs. Normally, the creaking stairs didn't bother her, but with all that had happened lately, the noise unnerved her. When she entered her apartment, the guinea pigs began their usual chorus of whistling.

“How about a treat guys? You might as well celebrate too.”

Casey flung her coat onto the sofa, and then fed the animals fresh veggies. When she was done, she retrieved Noel's phone number. Seconds later, she heard his voice and background chatter.

“Have I called at a bad time?” she asked.

“No, we're just playing poker. Hold on a sec.”

Casey heard the voices fade. She sat in her rocking chair and waited until Noel said, “I was hoping you'd call. Marie told me about Gabrielle's murder. It's bloody awful.”