Deadly Accusations (4 page)

“There's nothing wrong with Jasmine hanging with more than one guy,” Wesley added. “The only sleazy thing is the married jerks who hit on her.”

“Are you talking about guys from work?”

Wesley grunted and shook his head. “Ask your gossipy friends.”

Maybe she would. Casey walked up to the damaged window. Stan would be ticked. She studied the crack. If she hadn't been talking to Winifred, she might have seen the freak in action. She sat down to call home again. Lou answered right away.

“Is Summer getting ready for bed?” she asked.

“Slowly. She's being a pain.”

“Sorry, Lou.”

“Don't worry about it.”

Casey did worry. They couldn't go out as much as they used to, or take off for romantic weekends.

“How'd it go tonight?” he asked.

“Awful. I was trying to get off the phone with Winifred when the rockhound struck. I couldn't catch him,” she mumbled, glancing up and down the bus. “Wesley thinks I have a temper problem because of the Jasmine thing.”

“Yeah well, she's the only woman in the world he likes. They've gone out a few times.”

“He told you?”

“Jasmine did.”

“I didn't realize she discussed her personal life with you.”

“Once in a while.”

“It's pretty clear she likes you.” Casey paused. “Has she asked you out?”

“No.”

“She comes by on bowling nights a lot, but you're the only team member she makes a point of talking to. And she always involves Marie in those chats, probably so I won't get suspicious.”

“You've got it wrong, and I've never heard you this insecure before.”

“What did I get wrong?”

“It's not important.”

“Come on, Lou.”

“Look, the chats aren't about Jasmine trying to hook up with me.”

“Meaning she's been trying to get you and Marie together?”

“It won't happen, so don't worry about it.”

Casey fumed. Marie had lusted after Lou for a long time, and used to flirt with him outrageously. She'd thought Marie had given up, but maybe Jasmine had decided to play matchmaker so Marie wouldn't be so obvious. Worse than their conspiracy, though, was the depressing realization that Lou had kept this from her.

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“I didn't want to make things worse between you and them.”

Casey leaned back in her seat, suddenly exhausted.

“Will you be home soon?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Good. Don't let the rockhound thing get to you. You'll catch him, I know it.”

That was Lou. Always optimistic and supportive; trying to make the best of things. Sometimes, deep in her heart, she wondered if she deserved him.

ON THE SECOND FLOOR, CASEY
rushed into the security department and glanced at the wall clock. Twelve-thirty, damn. She'd lost track of time researching comparative police systems for her essay, and should have had her report on last night's fiasco finished by now. Stan would be demanding it any second. She also had to record this morning's uneventful shift with the kids on the M10 bus.

Casey spotted a yellow Post-it note stuck to her computer screen. “Time sheet needed by 2:00
PM
. No excuses! ASS.” Casey sighed. She was supposed to have done her time sheet yesterday, but after Stan's lecture and Summer's unexpected visit, Casey hadn't felt like hanging around to record two weeks' worth of shifts on a spreadsheet.

She booted up her computer and, collecting her thoughts, began to type. She'd barely finished the first paragraph when Stan's door opened. “Casey, can you come in a minute?”

Something in his tone made her turn around. The parts of his face not covered by hair were flushed. Worse, Stan couldn't quite meet her eyes.

“What's wrong?”

He glanced around the room. “No one else here?”

“It's lunch time.” When he didn't say anything, Casey said, “I should have my report about last night finished soon.”

“It can wait.” He unloosened the knot in his mint-green tie. “Come inside.”

Oh, this was bad. She'd never heard Stan say that reports could wait.

In his office, Casey took the chair nearest the open window. Stan fiddled with the pens and pencils in the cup, and then zeroed in on his bonsai. When his lips started quivering and he wrung his hands together, she started to worry.

“Marie called a few minutes ago.” Stan tried to meet her gaze and failed. “I don't know how to say this.” He paused, and then opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

The room started to feel hot. The only sound Casey heard was distant traffic. “What is it?”

Stan rested his elbows on the desk. “Someone shot Jasmine . . . She didn't make it.”

“What?” A prickly sensation ran down her back. “When?”

“A little over an hour ago.”

“It can't be.” Casey's mind went blank. “Are you sure?”

Stan nodded. “It happened in the parking lot at her church.” He cleared his voice. “She was waiting to pick up her son from preschool.”

“For real?” Casey gripped the arms of her chair. “I don't understand this.”

“The police found Jasmine's Mainland
ID
in her purse and contacted me just after Marie called.” He cleared his voice again. “I told the corporal she has no family; that's when he told me what happened.”

“Who on god's earth would want to kill her?”

“I heard there were problems with the ex. She was trying to get a restraining order.”

Unable to think of anything to say about Jasmine that wouldn't sound phony and hypocritical, Casey slipped into an investigative role. “Were there any witnesses?”

“Apparently, someone heard one shot and saw a van peel out of the lot.”

Casey's mind raced. “The guy was either close or knew what he was doing. Did the police say if this looked like a targeted hit?”

“They wouldn't say much of anything.”

The wood chair felt painfully hard beneath her. “Jasmine's son wasn't in the car, was he?”

“No, she was killed at eleven-ten. Jeremy's class finished at eleven-thirty.”

Casey remembered Jeremy from Mainland's company picnic last month: a chubby-cheeked boy with large brown eyes and Jasmine's black hair. While Jasmine was flirting with Roberto that day, her son had approached Casey and showed her his toy truck.

“I don't know why she arrived so early to fetch him.” Stan's eyes glistened. “Jasmine lived only two blocks from the parish she belonged to. If she'd gone later . . .”

A bus entered the yard. In need of fresh air, Casey walked to the window and watched employees either returning from lunch or beginning and ending shifts. No one looked upset.

“I take it employees don't know?”

“Just you and Marie. I called David Eisler, who's probably telling supervisors right now. Eisler intends to have each supervisor inform his own team.”

David Eisler was the last person Casey would look to for guidance in a crisis, since his disrespect for employees was almost legendary. With the president on vacation in Europe, they were stuck with the egotistical
VP
. She glanced at the sky. After yesterday's thunderstorm and rain, the sunshine was back, the sky free of cloud. A diesel engine near the building roared to life. Normally, she liked the smell of diesel. Right now, it made her queasy. She turned to Stan.

“How did Marie find out so fast?”

“The preschool phoned and asked her to pick up Jeremy. The poor woman's devastated.”

No doubt. Marie and Jasmine had hit it off from day one.

“Jasmine was a sweet kid.” Stan booted up the
PC
he'd finally agreed to use as part of his restructuring program. “She made great peanut butter cookies.”

Which she'd offered to everyone but her. Casey blushed at the petty thought.

“Corporal Lundy from the Coquitlam detachment's coming here this afternoon to go through her locker.” Stan handed Casey a slip of paper. “That's her combination. Show him where it is.”

“Coquitlam
RCMP
?”

“That's where it happened, where she lived.”

Friends had told Casey that Coquitlam was one of the safest and fastest growing suburban communities in the Lower Mainland. “Is the corporal part of
IHIT
?” Casey had never met anyone from the
RCMP
's Integrated Homicide Investigative Team. Under the circumstances, she wasn't sure she wanted to.

“I didn't ask. Employees who worked directly with Jasmine will be contacted by phone,” Stan added. “Since you worked with Jasmine yesterday, Lundy might question you right away.”

What should she say if the corporal asked what kind of person Jasmine had been? Sooner or later, he'd hear about their altercation on the M10; probably ask questions she wouldn't feel great about answering.

“Eisler's called a mandatory meeting for everyone at four-thirty,” Stan said. “Marie's exempt because she's looking after Jasmine's son and won't be in for a couple days.”

“Jeremy won't be with the father?”

“I hear he's an alcoholic who had some visiting rights, but who knows?” Stan clicked the mouse. “Uh, I've got a lot to do, so . . .” He stared at the monitor.

“Sure.” She headed for the door. “I'll finish my reports.”

“Let supervisors tell their people, okay? It wouldn't seem right coming from staff.”

“No problem.”

Casey stepped outside and leaned against the wall. Her legs were too shaky to make it back to her chair. She took a deep breath, inhaling through her nose and out the same way, just like her yoga tape had taught. This time, there was no calmness. Lunch hour was nearly over. The accounting people would be traipsing in here any moment.

Shuffling back to her desk, Casey wondered if she should call Marie. After Lou's revelation last night, Marie was her least favorite person, right now. Still, she should at least offer condolences. Casey made the call and heard Marie's trembling voice.

“Stan just told me what happened, and I'm sorry, Marie. I know you and Jasmine were close.” Casey listened to some nose blowing. “He said the preschool called you?”

“I was doing laundry,” she mumbled. “The phone rang and a woman said something had happened to Jeremy's mother, and could I pick Jeremy up? It was so surreal.”

An accounting employee strolled into the room. Casey turned away. “Why would they call you?”

“I'm the emergency contact person on Jeremy's registration form.” She blew her nose again. “He'll miss her so much. Jasmine was a wonderful mother.”

A wonderful mom and a church-going woman who baked cookies? This wasn't the Jasmine that Casey had known. “Stan said that someone saw a van leave the scene.”

“Another parent showed up early. It was so awful. Her head . . .” Marie's voice cracked. “Destroyed.”

Casey inhaled sharply. “She was shot in the head?”

“Yeah.” She sniffed. “There was blood running down the door and bits of . . .” Marie choked back a sob.

“Oh no, you saw her? Did you have to identify the body?”

“No, the tarp on the car wasn't fastened down, and the wind lifted it.”

“Oh, Marie.”

“What am I supposed to say when Jeremy wakes up for his nap and asks for her? He's only two, for shit's sake.”

She wished she knew the answer. “If there's anything I can do, let me know.”

“Could you take some of Jasmine's pets? She has—had—a lot. Wanted to be a vet.”

“Actually, Summer's dog has the run of the house and he doesn't play well with others. What about the
SPCA
?”

“They're swamped. Can't you keep the smaller ones a few days until I find them homes? They'll be in cages.”

“They aren't lizards or snakes, by any chance?”

“Gerbils, hamsters, and guinea pigs. I'll take her cat and dog.”

Casey propped her elbows on the desk. “I don't have any experience with rodents.”

“All you do is feed and water them, which her landlord's doing until we get them. I'll let you know when.” She hung up. No thank you, or goodbye, or thanks for phoning.

Stan stepped out of his office, his face still flushed and grim. “I'd like everyone's attention,” he called out. “Could you all come down here a minute?” He turned to Casey. “You can go, if you want.”

She couldn't bear to hear it again, to see their faces. Casey grabbed her things, hurried out of the room, and didn't stop until she reached her Tercel.

As she opened the door, Roberto stepped out of his Corvette two stalls from her, and grinned. “Where are you off to, sweetie?”

“The library. Have to research something for school.”