The Opposite of Dark (21 page)

In a thicker envelope, Casey removed a news clipping about “L.H. Personnel” and a half-dozen photographs dated eleven months ago. Theo was in three shots, Mother sprawled across his lap in one of them. In another, they stood with their arms around each other at the Eiffel Tower. The accompanying note said, “Many thanks for the lovely snapshots of Summer and Cassandra.”

Casey looked at Rhonda. “You sent pictures of us?”

“She asked for them, so I thought why not? I'm proud of you two. Lovers and careers mean nothing compared to raising happy children.”

But Rhonda hadn't raised her; she'd just been around a lot. A cream-colored card stood out from the pile. Casey picked it up and saw Dad and Gislinde's wedding invitation—real classy of Mother. The last envelope contained a snapshot of the house on Marine Drive. In the photo, Dad, or possibly Gustaf Osterman, was washing the Jaguar. Mother had written the address on the back.

Casey held the snapshot in front of Rhonda. “Did you go to the house?”

She began to shake her head, then stopped and nodded. “I started to drive out there once. Got as far as West Van before I decided the picture was one of Lillian's nastier jokes. She knew I'd try to see him. I figured she'd doctored the photo, hoping I'd freak out.”

“So you didn't actually see the property?”

Rhonda's eyes glistened as she took the letters from her, “Seven weeks ago I went back again. That time, I talked to Marcus.”

“Are you sure it was him?”

“Totally, it was his voice, everything, though he pretended not to know me.” The letters slipped from Rhonda's hand. “Then I realized he really didn't know me. Something had happened to his mind.”

“Oh, Rhonda.” If the man was Osterman, he wouldn't have known her.

“At first, I thought Lillian had put Marcus up to this, but he didn't even mention you. If he'd been in his right mind, he would have.” She picked up the envelopes. “I should have told you about the letters and seeing Marcus, but I didn't want to upset you.”

Too late, though she blamed Mother more than Rhonda. Casey put her arms around her.

“I didn't kill him,” Rhonda mumbled. “If that's what you were wondering.”

“I wasn't, but why keep this stuff?”

“To have proof of how it was between Lillian and me, so no one could accuse me of making it up. I mean, my relationship with her is weird.”

Yeah, estranged codependency was definitely weird.

Rhonda wiped her eyes and tried to smile. “You had a right to know about Marcus, but seeing him the way he was wouldn't have brought you much comfort. Let's face it, Marcus was a negligent parent long before he died.”

“Good thing he didn't have more kids.” She thought of Gislinde Van Akker.

“Don't take this the wrong way, but I don't think Marcus wanted more, which was why he had a vasectomy.”

“Really? I didn't know.” Was Gustaf Osterman the father of Gislinde's child? Had Mother told the truth about him posing as Dad? But vasectomies could be reversed. On the other hand, Simone Archambault had been adamant about Dad dying three years ago, so maybe Mother had told the truth. It would also explain why Gustaf's ex-wife hadn't been able to locate him.

“You were right about my parents keeping in touch over the years.” Casey told her about Theo Ziegler and her parents' role in his import business.

“That explains all his trips to Europe.” Rhonda let out a long sigh. “You'd think Lillian would have thrown the news in my face.”

“She wouldn't have wanted you asking too many questions,” Casey replied. “Mother also said that Darcy works for Ziegler too, and I believe her. Darcy wants the missing three million bucks that he thinks I have. It's what the attacks were about, why my apartment's been trashed, and why he's spent time getting to know us.”

Rhonda pulled at her disheveled hair. “Un-friggin'-believable.”

“I'm not saying he doesn't like you and that your relationship isn't real,” Casey added, “but the money's Darcy's main mission.”

“I might believe you if the source wasn't Lillian.”

“Rhonda, listen to—”

“No! Don't you get it? This is another way for her to hurt me. Lillian's found out that I have a man and she wants to destroy this relationship too!”

Casey didn't know what to say. Until Theo returned from Europe, she couldn't prove Mother's allegation about Darcy.

“I know you don't want to hear this, but I'd keep Darcy at arm's length until we know the facts.” She watched Rhonda lock the secretary desk. “Isn't it better to play this cautiously, for Summer's sake?”

“I guess so. Thank god she's gone to Whistler.” Rhonda started out of the room, then stopped. “You might as well have supper with me. The spaghetti will be ready in a half hour, and I'll open some wine. We could both use a drink.”

“Good idea.” She would have preferred to eat alone, yet she didn't want to leave Rhonda by herself.

Inside her apartment, Casey surveyed the mess. She was placing a teddy bear on the shelf when the phone rang.

“Miss Holland? This is Simone Archambault. I need to see you.”

“I'm glad you called. I've been trying to reach you but your number's not in service. Are you all right?” The line was silent. “Simone?”

“You must hear the truth about Marcus's death. I should have told you before but I was afraid.”

“What truth?”

“Meet me at the Queen Elizabeth Theater at ten tonight.”

“Wouldn't it be easier to tell me now?”

“No. I have things to give you, important things. I wrote down the truth in case we couldn't meet and mailed a copy to your office.”

“Simone, where are you staying? Maybe I could come there.”

“No, the bus leaves for Vancouver soon. I will meet you outside the theater, by the fountain in the courtyard.”

“The bus terminal isn't beside the theater anymore. It moved ages ago.”

“I know, but I like the theater. There's a performance tonight so lots of people will be around. See you then.”

Simone had sounded nervous. Did she know that Osterman had impersonated Dad, or was she simply a paranoid old lady?

By the time Casey rejoined Rhonda, a third of the bottle of red wine on the table was already gone. For someone who didn't drink much, Rhonda had downed the stuff pretty fast. Rhonda held her half-empty glass while she poured sauce on a plate of spaghetti. She was about to hand Casey the plate when the doorbell rang.

“I'll get it,” Casey said.

Detective Lalonde stood on the porch. “May I come in?”

“I'll come out.” She didn't want Rhonda to overhear. “I was going to call you.”

Although the porch could accommodate a few people, Casey felt claustrophobic next to Lalonde. Ivy enclosed both sides of the porch, making the space feel like a small closet.

“Have you locked up Darcy?”

“No, his lawyer arrived. Mr. Sheckter didn't see enough of his assailant to make a positive
ID
.”

“But Lou heard Darcy's voice and it's really distinctive. And what about the guard?”

“He can't remember anything useful.”

“You're giving me a headache.” She rubbed her forehead. “Can't you get a warrant to search Darcy's things for traces of blood and hair or something?”

“We're doing what we can.”

“So, now what? Darcy has keys to this house.”

“I'll have someone watch the place. Mrs. Stubbs should change the locks, and maybe you three can stay elsewhere for a few days, unless Churcott knows your friends.”

“I don't think Rhonda'll do anything, seeing as how they're now romantically involved. She doesn't want to hear about Darcy's dark side. Did you know he works for Theo Ziegler?”

“He told us he's between jobs.”

“Figures,” she shook her head. “I saw Mother this afternoon. She said the murdered man wasn't my father, but a man named Gustaf Osterman, who apparently also worked for Ziegler.”

Lalonde pulled out his notebook and glasses. “Anything else?”

As Casey told him about Osterman's quest to locate Dad's clients and the three million dollars, Lalonde scribbled notes.

“There were two good prints on the letters you gave me,” he said. “We soon learned that the victim wasn't your father, but it took time to identify Gustaf Osterman. He had no criminal record.”

Casey nodded. “According to Osterman's fiancée in Amsterdam, he was planning to leave Ziegler and start his own business. Mother said Dad had planned to do the same thing. Funny how everything about this murder is somehow connected to Ziegler, isn't it? The victim, the suspects, the money.”

“It's not your worry, Miss Holland.”

“It is when one of the suspects is living in our house. Will you please go and talk to Rhonda?”

Lalonde put his notepad away. “I came to pick up your father's old address book, and I'll need a list of everyone you saw in Europe, including addresses and phone numbers. I'll talk to Mrs. Stubbs while you fetch the book.”

“Okay, but don't take it personally if she throws you out.”

In her apartment, Casey compiled the list and then straightened more of her living room to give Lalonde time with Rhonda. When she finally brought the notebook and list downstairs, Lalonde was leaving the kitchen.

“Did you get through to her?” she whispered.

“I think so. She said she'd call a locksmith right away.”

Casey handed him the items. “Thanks.”

When he'd left, Casey hurried back to her apartment and telephoned Lou.

“You sound a little frazzled,” he said.

As she gave him the highlights of her chats with Vincent Wilkes, Mother, and Lalonde, the anger poured out. “I can't help wondering what my parents were importing, besides art and tarot cards.”

“Information's a hot commodity these days. All you need is a computer and some education, and you've got yourself a cottage industry. It's great for the housewife with a yen for hacking and an aptitude for industrial espionage.”

“Oh good,” she chuckled, “something to consider when I start a family.”

Lou paused. “Are you planning to have kids some day?”

The softness in his tone surprised her. “Haven't thought about it much, but probably.”

“Okay then, that's good.”

Whoa. Was he really interested in her? But why hadn't he said so?

“You're welcome to hang out here again tonight,” Lou added.

“Thanks, but I should stay near Rhonda. And Simone Archambault wants to give me something and talk about Dad. I'm supposed to meet her at the Queen Elizabeth Theater at ten.”

“You shouldn't go alone.”

“Simone's hardly a threat, and we'll be surrounded by people.”

“You sure?”

“She said there's a performance tonight.”

“Still, I don't know about this.”

“It's okay, Lou, I'll be fine.”

“All right, I guess.” He cleared his throat. “Stay safe, and call if you need me.”

“I will—promise.”

In the kitchen, she found Rhonda, eyes red and vacant, sitting at the table and drinking more wine. She hadn't touched her food. Her nose looked as if it had been soaked in beet juice. Rhonda never could handle alcohol well, so she usually avoided it.

Casey tried to eat, but she was too restless. “Rhonda, I have to go out for a little while. Do you want me to call someone over?”

“Going to Lou's again?”

“No.”

“You should give that wonderful man a chance, and don't take him for granted.” She blinked at Casey. “He's crazy about you.”

Lou was also her best friend. Maybe he had doubts about ruining a good thing, too. “Are you okay, Rhonda?”

“I'll survive.”

She'd had her share of loneliness and disappointment, and Casey sure in hell hadn't helped. She wished she knew how to make her feel better.

“I should finish putting my apartment back together. If you want to talk, come on up.”

Rhonda turned away. “Just go.”

Feeling crappy, Casey did as she was told.

IT WAS 9:45 PM
and spaces near the Queen Elizabeth Theater were impossible to find. Casey finally found a spot in a parkade near the corner of Robson and Seymour, more than four blocks away. She hightailed it back to the theater just before ten.

She strolled around the courtyard's fountain on the theater's south side and waited for Simone. A half hour later, people started leaving the building. By eleven, most people were gone and the courtyard was empty again. There was still no sign of Simone. Worse, the wind had picked up and the temperature had dropped.

To stay warm, Casey took a brisk walk around the courtyard's perimeter. She scrutinized Georgia and Hamilton streets, and the stairwells leading to the parkade below ground. Why hadn't Simone showed up? What had gone wrong?