“His name’s Denis Stoyko,” Monica said in a hushed tone. “He’s twenty-four, unemployed, and Elsie’s next-door neighbor, on the left if you’re facing the house.” She stepped closer to Novak. “The police have been to their place a couple of times. Denis is schizophrenic or something. Really loses it when he’s off his meds. He’s also mentally deficient. Retarded.”
Casey and Novak exchanged glances.
“Has Mr. Stoyko had a problem with Mrs. Englehart?” Novak asked.
Monica fiddled with her gold bracelet. “No, but a neighbor said that he was the one who heard Elsie scream last night, and woke his parents. For all we know, he could have been the one making her scream.” Monica glared at Stoyko. “That boy’s always prowling around, spying on people, and making up stories.”
“Do you know who lives on the other side of Mrs. Englehart?” Novak asked.
“A busy career couple with no kids. A nurse and a firefighter, who never stop to chat.” Monica waved her hand dismissively. “Both work shifts, so they might not have been home last night.” She glanced at Elsie’s house. “I’ll tell you right now that we need a stronger police presence in our neighborhood. I should start a Neighborhood Watch program.”
Casey noticed Novak’s withering stare. In her experience, most cops were diplomatic with the public, but there were a few exceptions.
“Think you’re ready to walk through the house now?” he asked Monica.
Her bright pink lips pressed together. “I’m not sure I’d know what was missing. Elsie has so much stuff, and she does all her own housekeeping despite her arthritis. She pays landscapers to keep the yard nice, though.” Monica turned to Casey. “Do you want to go with me? Since you were in the house just yesterday, you might notice something missing.”
“Sorry, no. I was there too briefly to look around. Besides, I should get back to work.”
“May I have your business card?” Monica asked. “If I see someone suspicious at a bus stop, I should probably call you right away.”
“You can call us,” Novak said.
“Huh!” She glared at Novak. “I’ve called you people about incidents in the past, and officers took their sweet time getting here.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
He didn’t sound it. Casey handed her card to Monica, then turned to Novak. “If security has suspicions about anyone, we’ll notify the police.”
“Call me directly.” Novak handed Casey his card. “Thanks again for your time.”
She noticed that he wasn’t giving Monica a card. “Sure.”
Casey headed back down the street. She’d nearly reached the end of the block when her phone rang. Crap. What did that pain-in-the-ass Philippe Beauchamp want now? She still found it hard to believe that MPT’s newest security team member had come highly recommended. Philippe wrote horrible reports and didn’t listen to anyone. He did excel at pointing out everyone else’s mistakes and giving unsolicited advice.
“Where are you?” Philippe asked. “I thought you were supposed to be on the M20, but the driver said you left.”
“I had to meet with the police at Elsie Englehart’s home.”
“Who?”
“Philippe, did you bother to read Stan’s email or listen to the news this morning?”
“Oh. You’re talking about that old lady who was beaten up and robbed.”
Casey sighed. “That old lady is a really nice person, damn it!”
“Oh, I get it. You’re snarky ’cause you’re upset.”
Thank god that British Columbian security officers weren’t allowed to carry a gun; otherwise, she really would have to shoot him. “Just do your job.” Casey hung up.
The guy had a lot of gall asking security’s second-in-command to account for her whereabouts, especially when his lazy reputation was well known throughout MPT. Philippe had not only asked Stan if he could use the security vehicle to patrol Kerrisdale, but had complained after he was turned down. He’d somehow talked Stan into letting him use his own car. He was the only team member who wasn’t riding transit or assisting seniors who didn’t feel safe walking home alone. Frankly, Philippe’s absence on the buses wasn’t a bad thing. She’d seen him interact with the public. The guy had zero people skills.
By the time Casey boarded the M20 she was sweaty and tired.
“Hi ya, Casey, honey,” one of the seniors called out.
Hilda Sawchuk’s million-dollar smile glowed almost as much as her gorgeous white hair.
Instantly, Casey felt better. “You remembered my name today.”
“I couldn’t forget that pretty face.”
She could, actually. Last week, when Hilda forgot where she was going or what street she was on, her best friend Daisy whispered that Hilda “had some dementia issues”. Daisy was always with her and, despite their frequent bickering, clearly cared for her friend.
Casey smiled at Daisy. “Off to aquafit classes?”
“Yep,” Daisy answered.
The ladies took the bus to the local recreation center most week days, where they met other friends. Hilda had proudly told Casey that she’d named the group the Jellyfish ladies.
“How are things in security?” Hilda asked. “Caught any criminals lately?”
Casey cringed. So much for being undercover.
“For heaven’s sake, Hilda,” Daisy said. A plastic daisy protruding from the brim of her straw hat bobbed up and down. “No one’s supposed to know who she is, remember?”
“Oh!” Hilda’s light blue eyes widened. “Have I ruined your mission? You won’t get in trouble, will you?”
“No, it’s fine.” Since her cover was pretty well blown for this ride, Casey sat behind them.
Hilda turned in her seat. “Your hair looks nice. Did you have it highlighted?”
“Not yet, but I did get a loose perm last week. The highlights will happen closer to my wedding day.”
“When did you say you were getting married again?” Hilda asked.
“The last Saturday in August.”
“How exciting.” Hilda looked her over. “Did you know that your T-shirt matches your lovely eyes?”
“Thanks.” Casey was well aware that her violet eyes were her best feature. Her top, however, couldn’t quite conceal a love-hate relationship with cheeseburgers and fries. With her wedding only eight weeks away, she’d been eating leaner meals.
“I heard about that horrible attack last night,” Daisy said. “Do you know if that poor woman will be all right?”
“I hope so.”
Although Elsie and these ladies had been on the same bus a couple of times, they didn’t know one another.
“Does she live alone?” Hilda asked. “Did they hurt her badly? They didn’t get her wedding rings, did they? I’d just die if mine were taken, and George would be most upset. Did they steal a lot of valuables?”
“For crying out loud,” Daisy said. “How do you expect her to answer everything? She wasn’t there, for pity’s sake.”
“I realize that,” Hilda shot back. “And could you please keep that stupid flower out of my face? Really!”
“I’ll thank you not to criticize my granddaughter’s Easter gift.” Huffing, Daisy turned away, causing the flower to bob angrily.
To ease the tension, Casey said, “How are the aquafit classes going?”
“Good,” Hilda replied. “But the Jellyfish gals have a long way to go before the arm flab disappears.” Grinning, she shook her arms, jiggling the loose skin. “I look like I have wings.”
Daisy, who was slim and petite, snorted loudly.
An elderly man in tan Bermuda shorts and white polo shirt, and sporting a fanny pack, boarded the bus. Casey hadn’t seen him before. As the man removed his linen cap, she noticed his flushed, heavily lined face. Behind him, a guy in his twenties, clean-shaven and in jeans, also stepped onto the platform.
The young man kept his head lowered. When the bus approached the next stop, he watched the seniors exit, then lowered his
head again. He repeated the pattern at the next four stops. Unfortunately, there was no physical description of the home invaders. According to the police report her supervisor received, all three gang members wore ski masks. One had a bulky build and light-colored eyes. The other two were shorter and leaner. It wasn’t a hell of a lot to go on.
The Jellyfish ladies’ stop came up.
“Bye, Casey, honey,” Hilda said with a wave. “See you next time.”
Rolling her eyes, Daisy grabbed Hilda’s arm and pulled her toward the exit. Casey smiled and gave her a brief nod. The young man looked up again but seemed disinterested, and turned back to whatever he was reading.
Two stops later, the elderly man slowly got to his feet. The younger man also stood. It could be a coincidence. After all, this was a major stop with plenty of folks coming and going. On the other hand . . .
Casey left through the back door. Putting on her hat and sunglasses, she tailed the younger man who was several paces behind the senior. The fanny pack’s clip rested in the small of the senior’s back. It would be easy to unfasten. The young man was gaining on him. Casey picked up the pace, following them down a side street crammed with condos of varying architectural design and age.
The younger guy glanced over his shoulder. Casey figured he’d seen her, but others also occupied the sidewalk. The man turned around and continued walking, passing the senior without looking back again. Casey stayed with the elderly man until he entered a ten-story complex two blocks from the bus stop. Once the door shut behind him, she stopped to jot down the incident and a description of both men. She was just finishing when her cellphone rang.
“I saw you get off the M20,” Philippe said. “What’s happening?”
“It looked like a guy was following a senior, so I tailed him. The senior got home safely.”
“Then you were wrong about the tail?”
“I’m not sure. The kid looked back and saw me. I might have spooked him.” Casey looked down the street to see if the guy had doubled back. He hadn’t.
“Or you misread the situation,” Philippe remarked.
Casey’s irritation rose. “Given what’s been happening in this city, it’s better to be safe than sorry.”
“Is that what you think? Really?” he asked. “Because I heard you’re kind of a magnet for trouble.”
“Good. Then here’s a tip,” she shot back. “I’m even better at spotting troublemaking coworkers and finding creative ways to deal with them.”
“And just what do you think you can do?”
Casey chuckled. “You’ll find out.” Asshole.
THREE
“I’m sorry, Stan, but Philippe isn’t a team player,” Casey said. “Nearly everyone’s complained about him to me.”
“I sure in hell have,” Marie Crenshaw grumbled. “And I’ve heard comments about his arrogance from other staff too.”
Hoping to keep her concerns private, Casey hadn’t expected Marie, a longtime rival professionally and personally, to join the discussion. But Marie happened to be raising the same issue when Casey arrived.
“Philippe refuses to listen to me or anyone else,” Casey said.
“He swaggers around, telling us what to do, like he’s more experienced than the rest of us.” Marie swept thick red hair from her face. “His condescension and laziness are pissing people off.”
Given the way Stan was fiddling with his papers, Casey worried that she and Marie had gone too far with the criticism. Still, something needed to be said. The security team’s frustration with Philippe had been festering for weeks. Here, in the quiet refuge of Stan’s office, she stayed calm and stuck to the facts, determined not to let emotion spill over.
“I’ll deal with him later,” Stan said, without enthusiasm.
Casey exchanged a baffled look with Marie. Stan usually dealt with personnel problems quickly. Why not this time? He did seem out of sorts this morning, and was supposed to have started his vacation today. His commitment to the security team’s role in the home invasion assignment, though, had forced him to cancel a trip back east for a family reunion.
“I have bad news.” Stan rubbed his trim gray beard.
Trepidation stopped Casey from saying anything. Heat wafted in from the open window. Voices greeted one another in the staff parking lot below.
“An hour ago, I learned that Elsie Englehart passed away.”
Casey jumped out of her chair and headed for the window for air. She had hoped to visit Elsie tomorrow.
“That’s awful,” Marie said. “You know, I’ve ridden the M20 nearly every day for three weeks and saw only one damn patrol car in all that time. The cops go on TV and yammer about stepping up patrols, but it’s all talk.”
“What makes you think they aren’t patrolling more between midnight and 5:00 AM, which is when the home invasions have occurred?” he asked.
“Because Elsie’s dead, that’s why,” Marie blurted.
Damn right. Afraid he’d see her anger, Casey kept her back to him.
“You can’t expect them to be everywhere at once,” Stan said.
Why was he so defensive? Sure, Stan had friends in the Vancouver Police Department; so did Casey. They’d both worked hard to build a solid reputation with law enforcement, but this didn’t mean ignoring the cops’ failure to capture the home-invasion gang.
“I’ve also learned that the police are placing two undercover officers in the hot zone,” he added. “Our team will stay on the buses while VPD either drives or walks the streets and parks. We’ll be given photos so you won’t waste time tailing them by mistake.”
There was a quick knock on the door. Casey looked over her shoulder, unhappy to see Philippe poking his head inside. When he saw Marie and Casey, his smile faded. Crossing her arms, Casey walked away from the window.
“For a guy who patrols in an air-conditioned Hummer, you look kind of ragged,” Marie remarked. “What have you been doing?”
Philippe ran his hand over wavy, dark-blond hair that looked unwashed. “Battling traffic.”
“Any problems?” Stan asked.
“No. I’ll write up a report shortly.” He glanced at Casey. “Anything happening that I should know about?”
“The latest victim just died,” Stan replied.
“Who?”
“Helloooo,” Casey said loudly. “We just talked about Elsie Englehart this morning, remember? Her home was invaded, finger chopped off. Any of it familiar, Philippe?”
“Oh yeah. Too bad.” His aquamarine eyes showed no emotion. “But let’s be real here. The odds of any old person surviving terror and torture are never good.”
“Get going on that report,” Stan said to him. “And for god’s sake, show some respect.”
Philippe hesitated, as if uncertain how to respond. “No problem.” He shut the door behind him.
Stan sighed. “You two should know that Gwyn’s talking with VPD about putting us on graveyard shifts. He wants to impress them by making our team available day and night.”
“How’s that supposed to work when the M20 doesn’t run all night?” Marie asked.
“You’d be using your own vehicles.”
“Great,” Marie mumbled. “My eldest is only fourteen. I don’t want to leave my kids alone overnight.”
“Can’t you arrange for a friend or relative to stay with them?” Stan asked. “If I make exceptions for one, then I’ll have to for everybody.”
“Philippe brags about being a career man with full availability,” Casey said. “Couldn’t he do an extra shift to give the single parents a break?”
Marie looked surprised by her remark, yet pleased.
“I’ll think about it.” Stan checked his watch, then turned to Casey. “Didn’t you mention this morning that you had to leave early for the wedding-planning dinner?”
“Right.” News about Elsie had made her forget this evening’s gathering. Truthfully, the last thing she wanted to do was listen to her future mother-in-law prattle on abou
t table decorations.
“I’ve got to get going too,” Marie said, hurrying out the door.
After Marie made a hasty exit, Stan nodded and looked at Casey. Like most MPT employees, he was well aware of Marie’s feelings for Lou. After all, she and Marie had been the occasional source of gossip for over three years. Whispers intensified after she and Lou announced their engagement in February. Marie had offered congratulations but hadn’t mentioned the wedding since. Everyone at MPT had been invited to the ceremony, but Marie had yet to respond. Casey didn’t think she’d want to attend. Marie wouldn’t tolerate the pitying, curious, or bemused stares of coworkers.
“How are the plans coming along?” he asked.
“There’s still a lot to do, and I haven’t had any time for dress shopping.”
“You’re cutting it a bit close, aren’t ya?” Stan sat back in his chair. “All of my daughters needed at least two fittings weeks in advance of their wedding.”
She shrugged. “I’ve never been big on shopping and I’m not that fussy anyway. I’m sure I’ll find something.” She smiled with more assurance than she felt. “I’m grateful that Lou’s mom volunteered to organize things. Barb’s embraced her inner wedding planner.”
“You okay with that?”
“Yeah.” The skepticism shadowing Stan’s face unnerved her. “Shouldn’t I be?”
“As long as you’re on the same page. But pages have a way of flipping back and forth until confusion sets in and the key players are doing more arguing than talking.”
Casey had been so busy with work that she had no idea what page Barb was on. She supposed she’d find out tonight. At this moment, though, all she could think about was Elsie.
FOUR
“Sorry I’m late,” Casey murmured to Lou as he greeted her at his mother’s front door. “Had to meet with Stan.”
“Everything okay?” he asked. “You look stressed and a little withered.”
“That about sums it up.” Casey’s old Tercel had no air conditioning and the day’s heat, plus news of Elsie’s death, had drained her energy. She wanted to go home and sit in front of a fan.
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