Deadly Accusations (8 page)

Birch threw his half-filled plate onto the hardwood floor and started for the door.

“I know you did it,” she called out.

“Marie, stop,” a deep, unfamiliar voice called from behind a group of people.

Marie moved closer to Birch. Casey held her breath. The woman was far too emotional to think clearly. Casey put her plate on the table and headed for Marie. Stan and Roberto got there first. Each man reached for her arms.

“He's not worth it,” Roberto said to Marie.

“Jasmine told me your delivery route's only a five-minute drive from her parish.” Marie glowered at Birch. “You knew when and where she took Jeremy to preschool.”

“Keep this up and you'll regret it, bitch.” He flung the door open.

“You were stalking Jasmine!” She turned to her guests. “Jasmine saw him outside Noel's house one night.”

Birch charged outside, and Marie slammed the door. “I know he shot her, I just don't know how he pulled it off.”

A few people nodded, but Casey noticed that most of them looked uncomfortable. When would Marie learn to think before she opened her mouth? Declaring war on this guy wasn't smart.

“Marie?” Stan said. “Let's talk a sec.”

Casey spotted Wesley Axelson near the staircase opposite the front door. She'd worked with Wesley twice on the rockhound assignment since Jasmine's death, but he'd barely spoken to her. His glum, hairy face stared at the floor. She'd never seen him look so sad.

Casey worked her way toward him. “How are you doing, Wes?” When he didn't look up she said, “You wouldn't be interested in owning one of Jasmine's pets, would you? I'm trying to find homes for her gerbils, hamsters, and guinea pigs.”

“I'll think about it.”

“Thanks.” This was a surprise. He didn't seem like the pet type. “Hearing the priest talk about Jasmine made me realize how little I knew her. I did know that she liked to dance. Did you guys go to clubs?”

“Wrestling matches. She liked wrestling.” He looked up. “She had her future all worked out. Was mature for her age, ya know?”

“Well, she had a lot of responsibilities.” Given what happened the day they worked together, “mature” was the last word Casey would have used to describe her.

“Somebody has to pay.” Wesley's eyes zeroed in on someone behind her.

Casey turned and saw Roberto. Wesley's scowl was burrowing into Roberto's back, but why? Surely he didn't believe Roberto had something to do with Jasmine's death, or was it the way he was flirting with Mainland's newest receptionist? With his hair trimmed, Roberto looked far more distinguished in his black suit than he did in grimy coveralls.

Wesley moved away from Casey, past three of Mainland's female drivers talking to the gorgeous, wheelchair-bound guy with the large blue eyes and dark blond hair hanging just below his jaw line. Even before he'd removed his suit jacket and revealed bulging biceps beneath his shirt, the women had been circling him. Casey first noticed him in the church parking lot when Marie assisted the man out of her
SUV
. Based on the way he and Marie communicated, and had held hands in the church, she figured he was Marie's brother. She now understood Marie's remark at Paval's the other day, about the killer probably renting a van to practise driving. Vans designed for paraplegics would have hand controls. Most thieves couldn't just jump in and take off. Noel turned and caught Casey watching him. She grinned, feeling like an idiot for staring.

“My brother's pretty cute, eh?” Marie said as she approached. “I'll introduce you.”

Although her face was still flushed from her confrontation with Birch, Marie's tone was friendly enough. Still, there was an edge about her, as if one wrong word could set her off.

“Casey, this is my brother, Noel Merryweather.”

“It's good to finally meet.” He shook her hand. “I've heard a lot of nice things about you.”

“Really?” Taken aback, she turned to Marie.

The doorbell rang. “I'll leave you two to chat.” Marie hurried off.

“Marie says you're one of Mainland's best security officers.”

“She does?”

Noel started to say something until his gaze drifted past her and his mouth clamped shut. Casey turned and spotted a man at Marie's door. Casey recognized him from the Integrated Homicide Investigative Team. A couple of days ago, he'd asked her about Jasmine's relationship with various colleagues. It was an awkward conversation. As the officer moved farther into the room, Casey saw Corporal Lundy follow him inside.

“What brings you two here?” Marie asked.

“We'd like to speak with Mr. Merryweather,” the officer replied.

“Forget it, this day's about Jasmine.”

“I'm sorry, but we wouldn't have come if it wasn't important.”

“Give me a bloody break.”

“It's just a few questions, ma'am.” The officer gave her a cold stare.

Casey doubted anyone could make them leave until they'd done what they came to do. As the officers headed toward Noel, guests cleared a path for them.

Lundy nodded when he noticed Casey. “Miss Holland.”

“Corporal.”

In a firm, quiet tone, Lundy said, “Mr. Merryweather, may we have a private word?”

Noel attempted a smile. “Let's talk out back.”

“No!” Marie rushed to his side. “You don't have to do this now.”

Noel clasped her hand. “It's okay.” He turned to Casey, “I hope I'll see you again.”

“Me too.” Lord, they weren't going to take him in for questioning at a funeral reception, were they?

Roberto opened the door for Noel and two German shepherds charged out of the kitchen, followed by Jasmine's cocker spaniel, Belle. The crowded room erupted with barks and surprised exclamations as guests struggled to keep their cups and paper plates upright.

Roberto tried to grab one of the shepherds. “When's the last time you fed them, Marie?”

Marie's face was filled with anguish as she watched the officers follow Noel into the kitchen. It took a couple of minutes for people to corral the excited shepherds. Casey tried to rescue Belle who was under the table and turning in circles. Huge brown eyes looked up at Casey as if pleading for help. Once she'd coaxed the dog out, she headed for the kitchen. If the cops didn't like the intrusion, too bad.

No one was in the kitchen, but Casey heard voices outside. Paval and the German shepherds entered the room, followed by Marie. Marie rushed to the back door and peered out the window while Paval left the room.

When Marie turned to around her freckled cheeks were scarlet. “Can't those idiots see he's being framed?”

Casey didn't know what to say. “Aside from the van, what else do they have on your brother?”

Tears filled Marie's eyes as she shrugged. When she sat down, the shepherds padded up to her. One of them whimpered while the other nuzzled her hand. Belle curled up under the kitchen table.

“Marie, does Noel own a gun?”

“No, he hates firearms. He does live less than ten minutes from Jasmine's place.”

Casey approached the window overlooking the yard. The officers were accompanying Noel to a police van.

“All the evidence is circumstantial.” Marie smacked the table. “They have to see that!”

Casey turned around. “What do you mean by all?”

Marie hesitated. “They found Jasmine's blood on the driver's door of his van.”

Not good. “Where did they find the van?”

“At a park near Noel's house.” She wiped away her tears with her hands.

“I gather he has no alibi for the morning of the murder?”

“If he did, the cops wouldn't bloody be here, would they?”

Since Marie was upset, Casey overlooked the surliness. She wanted to ask what Noel was doing at the time of the murder, but the question wouldn't be appreciated.

Paval poked his head into the room. “Sorry to intrude, Marie, but I thought you should know that people are starting to leave.”

“Thanks.”

Casey followed her into the living room, where subdued colleagues hugged Marie and murmured goodbye. Casey couldn't help feeling sorry for her. She couldn't make Marie feel better, but she could at least help clean up. Casey started with the food Birch had dumped on the floor.

“You don't have to do that,” Marie said after the last person had left.

“I don't mind. Housework helps with stress; so does yoga, but I figured you'd rather see me clearing plates than doing strange poses. Besides, I want to hear how you plan to prove Birch's guilt.”

Marie picked up coffee cups. “I'll figure something out.”

Casey wiped food off the floor with serviettes. “What if he really is innocent?”

“I'll check out the names on those business cards Jasmine collected. It's possible that one of her dance partners was some psycho who got the wrong idea about her. I should look into Eisler's activities as well.” She headed for the kitchen. “I can't believe Roberto or Wesley would kill her.”

“Me neither.” Casey followed her. “Still, people are capable of anything, if provoked enough.”

“Jasmine wouldn't provoke anyone to the point of murder, unless they were psychos to begin with.”

Was she kidding? The day before Jasmine died, she'd provoked twelve-year-olds into wanting to beat her up.

“Jasmine might not have been killed by her ex, or by a man at all,” Casey said. “Maybe the killer was the jealous girlfriend of someone Jasmine was seeing.”

Marie began loading the dishwasher. “I wonder if Birch owns a handgun.”

Casey sighed and shook her head.

“SEE, CASEY, ALL IT TAKES
is a little patience.” Lou sat on the cushioned window seat in her living room and stroked the guinea pig in his arms. “They're real friendly when you give them a chance.”

Since the most recent bite on her finger still stung, Casey had her doubts. “There might not be many more chances. Marie's dropping by any minute, so maybe she's found homes for them.”

“You said she sounded upset on the phone.”

“Yeah, but that's normal for her these days.”

With any luck, the visit would be short. Summer was at her weekly Sunday brunch with her grandmother, and Lou, having stayed the night, would be leaving soon. All the activity and extra shifts since Jasmine's death had put Casey seriously behind on homework. She glanced at the library books and research notes on the kitchen table.

The intercom rang. Seconds later she was telling Marie she'd be right down.

“I should go too.” Lou returned the guinea pig to its cage, then zipped up his hoodie.

This was one of those times when Casey didn't mind having to go downstairs to let visitors in. She hated the idea of Marie finding her way up here and invading her refuge. On her way down, Casey heard Summer's golden retriever bark from what sounded like the kitchen. When she and Lou reached the ground floor, Cheyenne jogged down the hall toward them, wagging her tail. Rhonda had promised Summer a dog for her birthday a few weeks back. During a trip to the
SPCA
, Summer fell in love with a four-year-old golden retriever. She'd made a good choice, though living with a dog still took some adjusting.

Casey opened the door and stared at Marie's nervous, blotchy face. “What's wrong?”

“Everything.” Her voice trembled. “Someone fired a bullet through my son's bedroom window.”

“Oh, no!” How could someone do that to a twelve-year-old? “Is he all right?”

“Yeah, Kyle wasn't hit, but he's still shaken.” Marie stepped into the foyer. One look at Lou and her mouth fell open. “I didn't know you'd be here.”

“I usually am,” he replied. “Where did the bullet land?”

“In the wall above his head.” She wrung her hands together. “It happened at three this morning. The breaking glass woke Kyle, and he was still dazed when he came to my room. He wasn't even sure what had happened.”

“The poor kid,” Casey said.

Cheyenne, who'd been sitting quietly, lifted a paw to Marie who gently shook it.

“He was telling me about the glass on the floor when a bullet hit my window.” Her eyes glistened. “I pulled Kyle onto the floor and waited. God, he could have been . . .” She knelt down and started to stroke Cheyenne, but lost her balance and landed on her butt.

Casey and Lou helped Marie to her feet.

“Sorry. Still shaky, I guess.”

They ushered her to the sofa in Rhonda's living room. Casey sat beside her, grateful that Lou did the same. She wasn't sure she wanted to deal with Marie alone.

“At least the girls weren't targeted. Their room's across the hall. Kyle's window is next to mine.” Marie grasped Lou's hand. “Before I could call the cops, the phone rang, and a whispered voice told me to stop investigating Jasmine's murder or the bullets would hit my kids next.” She slumped against his shoulder.