Deadly Accusations (28 page)

“Not even you can predict the future. You thought your marriage would last forever and look what happened. Everyone knows you're not anxious to try that again.”

“I don't recall discussing marriage with you or anyone else at work.” Rhonda and Lou were the only ones who knew about her insecurity. “If Lou wanted to be with you he wouldn't have gone all the way to Parksville to tell me that he loves me.”

“I didn't call to talk about Lou, for shit's sake. I thought you'd want to know that Paval found a new tenant for Jasmine's place, and he's been selling her stuff cheap.”

“Is that legal?”

“Hannah gave him permission to get rid of the furniture. She's already had someone pick up photo albums and other personal stuff. Anyway, I remember you liked her footstool with the sunflowers, but you'll have to collect it today. Whatever's left goes to charity first thing tomorrow.”

“Making money off her death's a bit cold, isn't it?”

“That's what I told Ursula. She said Jasmine owed them a week's worth of babysitting so it balances out, but yeah, it's beyond tacky.” Marie hung up.

Casey wondered if the footstool was still available. Should she go out there? It was nearly one o'clock. And she needed to catch up on homework. Besides, Ursula was a suspect. Getting close to her again wouldn't be smart. On the other hand, she'd sure like to know if the Gallenskis had crossed the line with other tenants. If she could talk to some of them . . .

Casey watched the animals munch their food and thought again about Jasmine's letters. When it came to wanting something or solving problems, Jasmine had been a take-charge person. When her parents died and the rest of the family disowned her, she moved on. Got a job, left an abusive marriage, and sought her biological mother. She'd taken charge of her life, made plans.

Casey remembered when she used to be like that, and she knew that passivity crept in the day she started parenting a grieving, angry teenager. She'd spent the past four months tiptoeing around, hoping Summer would learn to deal with Rhonda's absence, but clearly she hadn't. Time to face reality, regain control of her life. Marie had been a good start. Winifred's turn next.

Casey marched out of her apartment and jogged down to the second floor. She rapped on Winifred's door. “Winifred, it's Casey. I want to talk to you.”

No answer. Casey pressed her ear against the door and listened. She heard a noise. “I'm not leaving until we talk, so you might as well open the door.” She crossed her arms and counted to ten. “That's it, I'm coming in.”

She turned the handle. The door was unlocked. Casey stepped inside the darkened room and gasped when she saw Winifred on the floor, beside the bed. Blood covered some of her face and one eye was swollen shut. Oh god, how long had she been here? Bending closer, Casey felt Winifred's breath on her cheek. Casey checked her pulse. It was there, but not that strong.

“Winifred, can you hear me?”

“Mmm.”

“Can you breathe okay?”

“Hurts.”

“What happened?”

Winifred moaned. Her swollen eyelid twitched. “Attacked.”

“Did you see the person?”

“No.”

“Can I check to see where you're injured? I have first aid.”

“No.”

“I'll call 911.” Casey yanked the comforter off the bed, draped it over Winifred, and then called for help on her cell. She tried to answer the dispatcher's questions, but knew too little to be of much use. “Winifred, do you know how long ago this happened?”

“No.”

“The suspect could still be nearby,” Casey said to the dispatcher. “Send the police right away.” She turned to Winifred. “Winifred, did you see any part of your attacker, like clothing, hair, a tattoo? Anything that could describe him?”

“Dark clothes . . . hat.”

“A wide-brimmed hat?”

“Mmm.”

“Brown?”

Winifred groaned.

Nausea roiled in Casey's stomach as she repeated Winifred's description to the dispatcher. She spotted closed suitcases in front of the bed, an unopened purse on top of them. Winifred must have been preparing to move out when she was attacked. Since Summer wasn't here, the killer must have carried out his threat on the next available victim.

“Winifred, you've got a gash on your cheek. Do you want me to wash it out and get some disinfectant?”

“No.”

Aside from Marie and Noel, the only other suspects who knew she'd gone to Parksville were Gabrielle and possibly Birch. Gabrielle probably told Birch everything that had happened over there, and hitting women wasn't new to him.

Panic shot through Casey. Was he still in the house? Winifred moaned again. Casey swallowed back her fear while she stared at the open bedroom door. Her gaze darted to the closed closet door. She held her breath and listened for sounds, but the pounding in her ears made it tough to hear anything.

“Casey?” Winifred squinted at her.

“I'm here.”

“Your fault,” she mumbled.

RUSH HOUR HAD BEGUN AS
Casey drove east toward Coquitlam, but she didn't mind the slowing traffic. She needed to think before she met the Gallenskis. She called them twenty minutes ago to see if the sunflower footstool was still available. Ursula warned her that she'd only hold it for an hour. Casey wasn't thrilled to see Ursula again, but staying alone in the house was worse. Winifred's assailant was out there somewhere, probably waiting for her or Summer.

The paramedics thought some of Winifred's ribs might be broken. They'd also found large dark bruises on her lower back, where she could have been kicked. Casey told the police that Elliott Birch could resort to something that vile and suggested they contact Corporal Lundy about him.

Explaining things to Summer had been tougher. When she heard about Winifred, she cried. She'd wanted to visit Winifred at the hospital, but with a killer running loose Casey had said no.

“I can take care of myself,” Summer had insisted. “And Lou and Barb and you can protect me. Don't hospitals have security anyway?”

“It's not that simple.”

And on it went until Casey cut things short by saying she needed to call Rhonda. When she heard about Winifred, Rhonda said, “What kind of coward would attack an old woman, and why on God's earth was Mother still at the house? What if the psycho's waiting to get Summer?”

Rhonda had then demanded Barb's number so she could tell Summer to stay away from the hospital. She'd also decided to take a more active role in parenting her daughter. Casey's job was to simply ensure that Rhonda's rules were followed. Her diminished role as guardian made her feel incompetent.

She pulled up in front of the Gallenskis' apartment building and scanned the street for Gabrielle's Jetta or Birch's Dodge Dart. What if she'd missed something in the rearview mirror? By the time Casey shut off the engine, her body was so tense that a tap on the shoulder would catapult her through the front entrance. She needed gum. Chewing would at least unclench her jaw. She popped a piece in her mouth, stepped out of the car, and jogged up to the door. The sound of Ursula's voice over the intercom already annoyed her.

“This is Casey.”

“You got the cash?”

“Yes.” Geez, this wasn't a drug buy, for heaven sake.

The intercom buzzed and Casey entered a lobby cluttered with boxes and full plastic bags. A woman and two guys were pushing a sofa toward the door.

“Moving day, huh?” Casey asked.

“Yeah, thank GOD,” the girl replied.

“It's that bad here?”

She barked out a laugh. “You could say that.”

“Really? I was thinking about moving in.” The tenant headed for the door.

“Please, I need to know. I'm about to give them a damage deposit.”

The girl turned around. “Stuff goes missing around here.”

“From the laundry room?”

“From your bloody apartment. Coins or a five dollar bill; things they don't think we'll notice.”

“Has it happened to others?”

“Two that I know of.” The girl headed for the door. “Run while you can.”

“Thanks.”

Casey continued to the Gallenskis' apartment. Ursula answered the door dressed in blue jeans and a T-shirt that barely covered her bulging stomach. A sudsy bucket and a pair of yellow rubber gloves sat by the door. Casey tried not to smile. She'd never pictured Ursula as the cleaning type.

“You look busy,” Casey said.

“People moving out, people moving in.” Ursula removed a key from the board by the door. “I hate these losers.” Ursula handed her the key. “Bring it back when you're done. Someone else is supposed to drop by, so leave the door unlocked.” She put on the gloves. “You won't take off without paying, will ya? I'll be in suite three-ten.”

“Of course not.”

“Right, you're one of the good guys.” Ursula watched her. “I heard you've been tracking down the skanky half sister.”

Casey frowned. “Who told you that?”

“That dingbat Marie told Paval.”

Just great. “Why would she tell your husband?”

“They're friendly. Why, I'll never know.”

So, Ursula now knew about her interest in the murder. Damn, damn, damn. Casey stepped into the corridor. “I'll get the stool.”

“What did that cold witch have to say?” Ursula asked.

A suspect would want to hear what she knew. “Gabrielle warned me to stay away from her mother.” Paval walked up to her, carrying a basketful of clothes. A tiny baby slept on top of the clothes. “Cute bundle you got there.”

“Warm laundry puts them right to sleep.” His smile faded. “Did I hear you mention Gabrielle O'Reilly?”

“She threatened Casey,” Ursula said. “I think that chick's more than capable of blowing someone's head off.”

“I told Corporal Lundy that Gabrielle and Birch are a couple. She's the one you spotted in his car.”

Ursula didn't look surprised. Paval, on the other hand, seemed baffled. “How do you know?”

“I saw them together, and Gabrielle admitted it yesterday. She claims she wasn't in Vancouver the day Jasmine died. Anyway, she's on the mainland now. We rode the same ferry over.”

“She's here?” Ursula asked. She put her hand on her swollen belly and avoided Casey's gaze.

The longer Casey watched her, the more nervous Ursula seemed. “Did you know about Birch and Gabrielle?”

“No, what a stupid thing to say.” She started to leave.

Paval stood in the doorway. “Did you recognize Gabrielle in Birch's car?”

“All right, I did, yeah. I thought they'd hooked up to hurt Jasmine and maybe even take Jeremy. It looks like they decided to kill her instead.”

“Did you tell the police?” Casey asked.

“What for? It would only be my word against theirs.”

Maybe Ursula had seen Gabrielle up close and decided to blackmail her. She might have already stooped to stealing from tenants. “I'd better get that stool.”

“It's twenty bucks.” Ursula held out her gloved hand.

“Let her see it first, darling,” Paval said, “then we'll work out a fair price.”

“Look, Pav, I'm trying to do everything I can to put money aside. You know maternity benefits won't cover what I get from tips. We can't slide into poverty either. I'm not going through that shit again.”

The phone rang.

“I'll get it.” Ursula put down the bucket and removed one glove.

“Be right back,” Casey said, and started down the hall.

She unlocked Jasmine's apartment and stepped into a room reeking of garbage and over-used kitty litter. The red shag looked dirtier than she remembered. The only furniture in the living room was the sunflower footstool and a broken wooden chair.

The chill Casey had felt her first time in this apartment returned. She hated being here. It was as if Jasmine's essence still hovered. She glanced at the dark kitchen cupboards and yellow countertop, a throwback to the seventies when this building was probably constructed. Casey headed for Jasmine's bedroom, curious to see what else was left.

The bed and bureau were gone, as were her disco clothes, wigs, red feather boa, and even her shoes. In Jeremy's room, she found a box of clothes and a crucifix on the wall. Otherwise, the room had been picked clean. Poor Jeremy. His life had changed so much. Was he still waiting for his mom to come and get him?

Feeling a bit queasy from the apartment's stench, Casey headed for the bathroom, flipped on the light, and tossed her gum in the garbage. She sat on the edge of the tub and took slow deep breaths. Reminders of Jasmine were everywhere: a toothbrush in a red plastic cup, mascara and lipstick by the sink. Bath toys cluttered the top of the toilet tank.

Jasmine hadn't been the world's best housekeeper. The tile grout around the tub was black in places. Blue decals on the bottom of the green tub were also stained. Staring at the decals, Casey recalled the photo of Jeremy. He'd been sitting in the bathtub and grinning up at the camera. But hadn't the picture seemed much brighter? Casey looked at the two swag lamps on each side of the sink. The wattage wasn't strong.