Deadly Accusations (23 page)

“Mrs. O'Reilly, Noel told me that he and Jasmine argued the night before she was killed. You see, he proposed to her and she turned him down.”

The line was silent a few moments. “I still don't believe he shot her,” Hannah replied. “Birch wanted custody of Jeremy and now he has it. This is what matters. Has anyone considered the possibility that his mystery girlfriend shot my daughter? Even if I'm wrong, some other clue could be in those letters.”

“Couldn't Marie read them?” Casey removed two pills from a bottle in the medicine cabinet. “She knows the same people I do.”

“I asked her, of course, but she said it would be too upsetting. She's also very worried about her brother and the threat to her children.”

Yet Marie had no qualms about putting her and Summer in more danger. “Did she mention that we were also threatened, my child and me?”

“Oh dear, I'm so sorry.” Hannah sounded close to tears. “I know this is asking too much, but Marie assured me you're an excellent investigator, and I'm desperate, Miss Holland.”

“What about a private investigator?”

“I need someone who knew Jasmine and her colleagues.”

“Okay, well, how about you mail the letters to me?”

“I couldn't! Birch works for the post office and the letters could go missing. A courier could also lose them. They're are all I have of Jasmine, and they musn't leave Parksville.”

Great. Wonderful. Casey swallowed the pills and some water.

“Miss Holland, I know this is a lot to ask, but could you come here and read them? I'll pay all your expenses.”

Was she kidding? “Wouldn't it be cheaper to have the letters photocopied and the copies sent to me? Or you could fax them.”

“I don't have access to a copier, nor do I want anyone at this facility to know about my private life. Oh, my god!” Hannah said. “She's here, I have to go.”

“Who's there?”

“Please come to Grantwood Manor.” She sounded panicky. “You must take the letters before she finds them!”

“Before who finds them?” What in hell was going on? “Hannah? Are you all right?”

“Gabrielle will destroy the letters if she sees them. Please come as soon as you can.” The line went dead.

The daughter? How was Casey supposed to drop everything and leave? Rhonda would be calling tonight. Surely Hannah could hide the letters from Gabrielle. She'd done so up to this point. Why did she have to, though?

Should she even go to Parksville? Summer was safe at Barb's, and Stan had told her she could take a break from the M10 after tomorrow. What about the rockhound assignment, though?

Casey slid under her comforter, then phoned Barb. Each ring sent shock waves through her skull, forcing her to hold the phone at a distance. Finally, Barb answered.

“It's Casey. How's Summer?”

“She's great. In fact, she's playing pool with my youngest right now.”

“Good. I need to tell her that Rhonda called and left a message. She's calling back between seven and eight tonight, and wants to talk to Summer.”

“Don't worry, we'll get her there safely.”

“Thank you. May I talk to her?”

“Sure, and while I fetch Summer, you can talk to Lou. He just drop­ped by.”

Should she tell him about Hannah? He wouldn't want her traipsing off to Parksville, but to leave without telling him would make things worse between them.

“How are you feeling?” Lou asked.

“I took meds and I'm in bed, so I'll be fine.” She hesitated. “Listen, I just got a call from Jasmine's mother. She asked if I'd read some letters Jasmine wrote her.”

“Why?”

After Casey explained, she said, “She wants me to come to Parksville to read them.”

“Are you going?”

“Still deciding, but she practically begged me.” She didn't want a lengthy debate about it.

“Here's Summer,” he murmured.

“Did Mom really phone?” She sounded excited.

“Absolutely. Barb's going to bring you over.” Casey closed her eyes. “Remember, I'd like to talk to your mom first, okay?”

“I guess. So, are you gonna tell her about the freak who wants to hurt me?”

“I have to be honest, Summer. Besides, your mom always helped me sort things out.”

“You won't talk forever, right? I have tons of stuff to tell her.”

What if Rhonda changed her mind and didn't call? What if she called and it went badly? “You know, something could come up and she might not be allowed to phone us.”

“I suppose.” She paused. “Lou just left the room and he seems kind of down. Is he mad at you?”

Summer had her mother's way of probing into personal issues. “Not that I know of.”

“But he didn't stay with you tonight.”

“I have a migraine and I just had a strange phone call from the mother of the lady who was killed. She wants me to come see her in Parksville, but I don't feel right about leaving you for a whole day.”

“You should go; maybe even stay overnight. I'm fine here.”

Casey smiled, but even this made her head throb. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“No, but Barb's totally awesome, and this place is cool.”

Meaning better than here. Casey felt a pang of jealousy. “Good.”

“If someone needs help, you shouldn't turn your back on them,” Summer said. “That's what you and Mom taught me.”

She thought about Hannah and little Jeremy. “Even if it means endangering yourself and those you love, like I've done to you?” Not to mention turning colleagues into enemies.

“Totally. You gotta do what you think is right, no matter what.”

God, she sounded like Rhonda, when Rhonda had been at her best. “So, oh Wise One, what if you've lost sight of what's right and what's wrong?”

“You gotta go with your instinct, right? Isn't that what you always say?”

“I'm not sure my instinct's been working all that well lately. Anyhow, I should get some sleep before your mom calls.”

“Uh, Casey? If she doesn't call, we can phone again, right?”

“We'll reach her no matter what.”

“'Kay.” Summer cleared her throat. “When I was talking about how you have to help your friends, I was also thinking about Mom.”

“If she needs me, I'll be there for her.”

“Me too.”

But would Rhonda want their help? Would she want to deal with them at all?

IN MAINLAND'S LUNCHROOM, CASEY STIRRED
her third coffee of the morning, and it was only eight-thirty. She wished she hadn't spent most of the night stewing over Rhonda's phone call. Even now, too much of it replayed in her mind, like Summer's tearful rant about Winifred. “All she wants me to do is chores and homework, and I don't want Grandma living here!” She'd finally plunked the phone in Casey's hand. By the time Casey had finished telling Rhonda about Summer's deteriorating behavior, Winifred blurting the truth about Summer's birth, and her investigation into Jasmine's murder, Rhonda was the one in tears.

“I'm going through enough shit, Casey, and now you're telling me my baby's in danger? What am I supposed to do about it from here?”

Casey hadn't known what to say. Her assurance that Summer was safe with Barb had seemed so lame that she'd felt ashamed and incompetent. Summer had asked to speak to Rhonda again. This time, the topic was school. Seconds later, Summer was shouting, “My friends are not losers!” Before Casey knew it, Summer was running out of her apartment and Rhonda was fuming. After she'd calmed Rhonda down, Rhonda promised to call back soon and deal with Winifred then.

“What's the matter, kiddo?” Stan asked as he approached. “Is that bump on the noggin still hurting?”

Casey looked up. She didn't want to talk about Rhonda. “No, I got a call from Jasmine's mother last night.”

By the time she finished telling him about Hannah's request, they'd left the lunchroom and were standing in front of the exit to the parking lot. Through the plate glass window next to the doors, Stan watched Mainland's latest pre-owned acquisition pull out: a two hundred and seventy-five horsepower beast that could hold seventy-two passengers and two wheelchairs. The bus had been recently washed, making the silver and black stripes along the green side shine.

Casey looked for Lou's old black pickup, but it wasn't here. The M10 was due to pull out in fifteen minutes.

“Do you think I should go to Parksville?”

“I can only tell you which bus to work on and when,” he answered. “Since Marie's kids are away, I'll put her on the rock-throwing case until it's safe for you on the M6 again.”

“Did you say you're giving Casey time off to go to Parksville?”

The sound of David Eisler's voice made them turn around.

“What of it?” Stan asked.

Eisler glanced at staff wandering past them. “Step outside, both of you.”

Stan rolled his eyes while Casey led the way, irritated that Eisler had been eavesdropping when she'd purposely kept her voice low. Outside, he didn't stop walking until they were too far from the doors to be overheard.

The
VP
zeroed in on Casey. “Why are you going to Parksville when we're short-staffed?”

“Why should you care?” Stan shot back.

“Jasmine's mother lives there,” Eisler said, turning to her. “I thought I told you not to pry into a murder investigation.”

Her jaw clenched under his withering stare. “She invited me, and there's nothing to investigate in Parksville.”

“There must be a link or she wouldn't have asked you.” Eisler stood straighter, as if to appear taller, yet he still barely reached Stan's shoulder. “Since you didn't respect my request to stay out of the investigation, you're fired for insubordination and sabotaging what was a pleasant working environment.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Stan asked.

“She was involved in an altercation with staff about murder suspects.”

“That was Marie, not me.”

“It was both of you! I heard every word.”

Part of Casey wanted to scream at the moron, but why give him more reasons to fire her?

“I decide which of my staff are fired, not you,” Stan said.

“You're not running this show, Stanley.”

Even under the beard, Casey could see Stan's face redden. He hated it when people used his formal name.

“It looks like you won't be running things much longer either,” Stan replied. “I know about your job interview the morning Jasmine died.”

Casey saw Eisler's hands curl into fists.

“Not what I'd call productive time for Mainland Public Transport,” he added. “So maybe you should fire your own ass, you fascist little twerp.”

Eisler's lips grew white “Maybe I should fire your ass, too.”

Casey spotted employees staring at them.

“Well, Davey, old buddy, that works both ways,” Stan crossed his arms and smiled. “What do you think Gwyn will say when I tell him you've been job searching on company time?”

Before Eisler could respond, Casey said, “Do the police know that you went to Jasmine's apartment looking for her?” The shock on Eisler's and Stan's faces was worth the risk. “Some of the staff know you'd been calling her at home, David. Jasmine told people and I imagine phone records will corroborate that.”

“It seems we'll have lots of news for Gwyn when he gets back from holiday,” Stan remarked.

Eisler's perma tan darkened. “You never did have much class, did you, Stanley? But then, you belong in this dump, so why should I expect otherwise?”

“Casey stays,” Stan said, “and stop bloody eavesdropping!”

“That wasn't my intention,” he shot back. “I came to tell you that the company's lawyers just learned that the bullet fired at Casey came from the same gun that shot holes at Mrs. Crenshaw's house. A Glock twenty-seven, which I'm told is owned by Wesley Axelson.”

“Lawyers, huh?” Stan remarked.

“Someone has to protect the company's interests; obviously, you're not up to it and never will be.”

“Look who's talking.”

Eisler ignored him as he focused on Casey. “See what happens when you meddle?” Anger seethed through his words. “Keep it up and you'll get yourself killed.” He marched toward the door.

“Good luck with the job hunt!” Stan shouted.

Casey noticed the surprised looks on employees' faces. Word would be out about it by lunchtime, which was probably what Stan intended.

“Miserable toad,” Stan muttered. “When are you leaving for Parksville?”

The question caught her off guard. “I haven't said I'm going.”

“I've known you a long time, kiddo, and you'd never turn your back on a plea for help.”

It wasn't that easy. There were critters to feed, an essay to finish, a class tomorrow. On the other hand, Lou could feed the animals and she could take the essay with her. “Do I still have a job?”