Deadly Accusations (6 page)

“Yes, I got there at eleven.” She watched him jot down the time. “The prof glared at me when I came in.”

“What kind of car do you drive?”

“A red Tercel. Why?” He didn't answer. “How can I help you, Corporal, if you don't meet me halfway?” She knew she sounded impatient, but didn't care. “I promise confidentiality.”

He seemed to be thinking it over. “A silver compact was also seen leaving about the time of the shooting, and that is confidential.” He peered at her. “We don't know the make and model. Do you know anyone who drives this type of vehicle?”

“Tons of people.”

“Including employees?”

“Sure.” She entered the locker room. Lundy didn't follow but just stood there, fiddling with his pen and notebook. Casey smiled. “All clear, come on in.”

He stepped inside and took a furtive glance around. She saw his nostrils twitch, possibly from the clashing smells of perspiration, perfume, and cologne.

“Do you know anything about Jasmine Birch's activities last night?” he asked.

“I heard her tell someone she had plans for the evening.”

“Plans with whom?”

“I don't know.”

“Who was she talking to?”

Casey shrugged. She hated the idea of involving Roberto.

“This isn't the time to start withholding information, Miss Holland.”

“I work with these people, Corporal. Many of them are friends.”

“I appreciate that, but, as we've established, this conversation is confidential.”

“I'm the only one who heard them talk, and if you mention this, he'll know I told you.”

“Miss Holland.” His voice was stern.

“Jasmine was talking to Roberto de Luca.”

He started scribbling. “Was the big guy with the reddish beard at the back of the lunchroom Wesley Axelson?”

She had a feeling he already knew the answer. “Yes.” The corporal would find out why nearly everyone referred to him as Rude Wesley.

“Were Mrs. Birch and Mr. Axelson a couple?”

Geez, who'd told him this stuff? “I heard they dated casually, but neither of them confided in me.” Casey removed a slip of paper from her pocket. “You should talk to people who knew her better, like Marie. She and Jasmine were good friends.”

Casey read Jasmine's locker combination on the slip of paper. She turned the knob slowly, anxious to get it right the first time. Normally, she didn't feel this uncomfortable around cops. She'd never had to supply an alibi or rat out coworkers, though. Casey opened the locker and found it crammed with clothes, towels, toiletries, and paperbacks. Lundy removed several dog and cat magazines.

“Pet owner?” Lundy asked.

“So I've heard.”

Two photographs fell out of a magazine. Casey picked them up. One was a head shot of Jasmine with her eyes closed and jaw slack, as if asleep. A rumpled, sky-blue comforter with yellow roses covered her chest. In the second photo, a jubilant Jeremy was splashing in the bathtub. Why would Jasmine keep the pictures here?

Lundy took the photos from her. “Thanks for your help, Miss Holland. That's all I need for now.”

A driver entered the room.

“Oh Casey, it's so horrible!” The woman threw her arms around her.

“Yeah, it is.”

“Jasmine was only twenty-four, and who'll look after her little boy?”

“I don't know.”

While the driver wept, Casey found herself thinking about Jeremy; how he must be asking for his mother right about now. A lump appeared in her throat.

“LOOK, CASEY, I'M SORRY YOU'RE
run off your feet,” Marie said as she slid her
SUV
's side door open, “but it's not my fault we're short-staffed.”

Good lord, all she said was that this had been one of the busiest, most stressful weeks she'd had in ages. Casey buttoned her sweater. An autumn chill had already invaded the Lower Mainland this late September morning. Marie's attitude wasn't making her feel any warmer.

“I can't cope with those brats on the M10 this afternoon.” Marie handed her a pet carrier. “Jasmine's only been gone twenty-four hours.”

If anger was part of the grieving process, Marie was well into it. Casey looked at the three-story apartment building in front of them. The old wood and stucco exterior needed cleaning. Sliding glass doors opened onto balconies just large enough to fit a chair and a hibachi. Still, Jasmine had chosen a good location. Whiting Way was quiet and the mall, SkyTrain, and buses were within walking distance.

Casey counted five balconies on the left side of the building's entrance and five on the right. “Which apartment was Jasmine's?”

“It's the ground floor, corner suite to your left.” Marie handed Casey a second pet carrier.

“How many animals did she have?”

“I've never counted them.”

That many? Casey hoped the critters came with a how-to manual. “I can only take a few.”

“They're not that much work. The guinea pigs are loving balls of fur that coo when they're happy. Didn't you have pets as a kid?”

“No, which is why they'll be better off with someone more experienced. I'd feel terrible if one died.”

“Help me find them caring families, then.” Marie started toward the building. “Hurry up, I've got tons to do.”

Casey struggled with the temptation to give Marie's ass a kick. Obviously, the woman didn't care about the homework, mountains of chores, and rock-throwing assignment Casey was juggling. She'd ordered her to be here at ten-thirty and then had the gall to show up fifteen minutes late. Marie pressed the manager's intercom button. Seconds later, Casey heard a man's voice.

When a buzzer sounded, Marie opened the glass door and waited for Casey. “Come on, let's move.”

“I'm carrying two frigging cages, Marie.” She edged past her. “What are you carrying?”

“A heavy heart, which is more than I can say for some people.”

So that was it. What was she supposed to do, fake grief? They turned right and walked to the end of the corridor. The landlord's suite was also at the front of the building. A man answered Marie's knock and gave her a quick hug. Casey's eyes widened. They knew each other?

“I already miss her,” he said, voice cracking. His moist, brown eyes turned to Casey. “Hello, I'm the building manager, Paval Gallenski.”

“Casey Holland.”

Thinning hair and a web of tiny creases around his eyes placed him in his forties. His nose was too large for his face, brows too sparse.

“Excuse the mess.” Paval opened the door wider. “It's rent day and tenants are keeping me from getting anything done.”

Stepping inside, Casey saw two toddlers sitting on a navy carpet, playing with a large collection of plastic toys. The red sofa and chair were covered with diaper bags, more toys, and picture books. A playpen filled a corner of the room. Posters of animals, flowers, and butterflies covered most of the walls. It was like living inside a toddler's play school.

“This is cheerful.” Casey put down the cages.

“Thanks. My wife and I run a daycare for tenants.”

A laundry basket filled with stuffed animals sat next to the playpen. Considering all the dirty diapers he probably dealt with, Casey could only smell orange-scented air freshener. A cocker spaniel emerged from the dining area on the other side of the sofa. The pooch wagged its tail and scampered toward Marie.

“Belle!” She scratched the dog's head. “How are you doing, girl?”

“The poor thing misses Jasmine.” Paval turned to Marie. “How is Jeremy?”

“I wish I knew.” She straightened up. “His dad barged into my house last night and took him. I smelled booze on his breath and tried to stop the jerk, but he threatened me.” Marie tucked thick red hair behind her ears. “I called the cops and Child Protection Services, but no one seems eager to do much because Birch has no criminal record and he didn't touch me.”

Casey hadn't heard any of this. “Is Jeremy in danger?”

“Good question. Jasmine said Birch was always good with him, but when he drinks he's out of control. The jerk beat Jasmine; that's why she left.”

“I had no idea,” Casey murmured.

“I can't say I'm surprised,” Paval remarked. “I've seen him standing outside her apartment shouting obscenities.”

“The bastard was seeking joint custody.” Marie removed a tissue from her pocket. “Birch was so pissed with Jasmine for not allowing him more time with Jeremy that I really think he could have . . .” Her voice trailed away.

The toddlers, a girl and a boy, started fighting over a toy phone. When the little girl lost the battle, Paval picked her up and murmured soothing words.

“How's Noel coping?” Paval asked Marie.

“Barely.” She stroked Belle once again. “The cops came to his house. I gather it didn't go well.”

Lou mentioned that Marie's brother had gone out with Jasmine. If the police were paying more attention to Noel than they were to Jasmine's ex, Casey figured there had to be a reason. So, why was the manager asking personal questions?

“I take it you two know each other?” Casey looked from him to Marie.

“I was over here a lot,” Marie replied.

“As was Noel,” Paval added. “Getting to know the regular visitors makes it easier to figure out who should and shouldn't be in the building.” He placed the little girl on the sofa and gave her a teddy bear as he glanced at Marie. “Do they really think he'd use his own van in a shooting?”

“They shouldn't, given that Noel reported it stolen the night before.” Marie frowned. “Birch was stalking Jasmine, so he probably knew what Noel drives. He could have rented one to practise driving. Anyway, I heard that the cops have a description of the driver: dark jacket, royal blue ball cap, and sunglasses.”

Which fit half a million guys in the Lower Mainland, Casey thought, and why would someone have to practise driving a van?

A thirty-something woman in a lime bathrobe and matching slippers shuffled down the hallway toward them. When she reached the living room, she squinted at everyone through smudged eyeliner, then yawned without bothering to cover her mouth. Judging from the size of her abdomen, she looked about seven months pregnant.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” Paval turned to Casey. “This is my wife, Ursula.”

“Hi,” Casey said, noticing that Marie kept her gaze on the dog.

“Mmm.” The woman headed for the kitchen.

“Ursula's a waitress,” Paval said, “and working late shifts this week. She'll come alive after a mug of java.”

Casey was amazed the woman could sleep with all these kids around. She watched the little girl wriggle off the sofa.

Paval removed a key from one of three dozen hooks near the door. “The police are finished with Jasmine's apartment.” He handed the key to Marie. “Thanks for taking the animals. Birch and that awful half sister wouldn't have helped.”

“Half sister?” Casey asked.

“Gabrielle O'Reilly,” Paval answered. “She and Jasmine had the same birth mother, who lives in Parksville. Anyway, Gabrielle came to our door Sunday afternoon, looking for Jasmine. I had Jeremy with me, so I showed him to her. She barely looked at the boy. It was the coldest thing I ever saw.”

“Where does this half sister live?” Casey asked.

“Also in Parksville.”

“It's a three- to four-hour trip from Parksville to here, and ferries aren't cheap,” Casey said. “The lady must have a good reason for coming to see Jasmine.”

“Bull,” Marie blurted. “She said she was Hannah's
real
daughter, and that Jasmine had better stay out of Hannah's life, if she knew what was good for her. Jasmine told her to go to hell.”

“There's no way Jasmine would have backed down,” Paval remarked. “After her adopted parents died, she started looking for her birth mother, and found her in July. She was so excited, I think she told everyone she met that day. It's too bad they never got a chance to meet face to face.” Paval shook his head. “The poor woman had a stroke one week after Jasmine made contact with her.”

For a landlord, the guy sure knew a lot about Jasmine's personal life. Had they been friends, or was he into gossip?

“I heard that Jasmine had been stressed lately,” Casey said, turning to Marie. “Was Gabrielle the reason?” “I don't know. She called me from work Tuesday and told me about that horrible shift you two had. She said she'd tell me something else later.” Tears filled Marie's eyes. “That was the last time we talked.”

Casey remembered that call. She was tempted to ask who Jasmine had plans with that night when Ursula reappeared, carrying an oversized coffee mug, a cigarette, and an ashtray.

She stared at Marie. “You're Jasmine's friend.”

“Uh-huh.”

Casey noticed Marie's tightening jaw, the way her lips pursed when something, or someone, displeased her.