The Opposite of Dark chm-1

by Debra Purdy Kong

  “No on both counts, but I’ll contact him once I’m there,” especially if Daphne Reid had useful information about the killer’s identity.

  “Mom?” Summer called from the doorway. “Someone’s on the phone for you.”

  “Be right there.” She turned to Casey. “Call every two or three days or I won’t be able to sleep, okay?”

  “I’ll try, I promise.”

  Rhonda left as Summer entered the room.

  “How’s the new bicycle tire?”

  “Great, Darcy and I went riding yesterday. It was fun.”

  “Oh? I didn’t see you guys go out.”

  “It was after supper. You and Lou had already left for the hockey game.”

  In the few days he’d been living here, Darcy had hovered around Summer and Rhonda a lot. He’d also come up here uninvited to chat a few times, which had gotten irritating so she’d cut their conversations short.

  Casey shoved her underwear in the suitcase. “I gather his knee’s healed?”

  “Uh-huh. He’s coming to swim practice with us tonight.”

  Man, didn’t this guy have a life?

  “What’s wrong?” Summer asked. “You look kind of weird.”

  “I’m just a bit nervous about my trip. Which reminds me, your mom says you’re upset that I’m going.”

  “No, I’m not, she is. I mean, it’s not like you’ll be gone a long time.” Summer picked up a folded T-shirt. “You wanna go?”

  “Yes and no. I’ll miss you guys.”

  She gave Summer a hug, then fetched the blue notebook, tossing the loose slip of paper containing the doodles and Marine Drive address in a drawer. She’d already given Rhonda a copy of contact info for the few people she’d managed to get in touch with.

  “Hello? Anyone home?” Darcy’s raspy voice called out.

  Too bad Rhonda had become more adept at opening doors than closing them.

  “We’re in here,” Summer called back.

  As Darcy entered the bedroom, he winked at Summer then turned to Casey. “Sorry to interrupt, but I just wanted to say bye before you left.”

  Rhonda thought his raspy voice sounded seductive. Casey couldn’t stand it. “Thanks.”

  “I’ll pack some peanut-butter cookies for you,” Summer said.

  “That’d be awesome. And if I don’t get a chance to say this later, look after your mom, okay? I know you’ll do a good job.”

  Summer grinned. “Three more months till I get a puppy.”

  When Rhonda came down with the flu last December, Summer did a lot of cooking and cleaning. Rhonda had said if she was still acting responsibly by her birthday, she could have a dog.

  After Summer left, Darcy said, “Rhonda really depends on you, doesn’t she?”

  “We’ve known each other a long time.”

  “I think all this family stuff you’ve been going through is getting to her. She talks about your mother a lot, claims the lady came from a family of greedy criminals.”

  Crap, why had Rhonda brought that up? Casey stuffed socks into corners of the suitcase.

  “Glad to hear of no criminal streak in you,” he added. “Know what I’m saying?”

  “Not really.” What was his point? “If you’ll excuse me, I need to finish packing.” She shoved her red pumps in a plastic bag.

  “I hope you find what you’re looking for in Europe.”

  Had Rhonda told him about the murder too?

  “I never knew my dad,” Darcy went on. “He took off when I was little.”

  Question answered. Damn.

  “Casey?” Summer called from the stairwell. “Lou’s pulling up.”

  “Okay, I’ll be right down.”

  “But then, I guess no one really knows anybody,” Darcy went on.

  “Not true.” Casey looked at him. “Some people can see right through others.”

  His unblinking eyes gazed at her through blue-tinted lenses. “Yeah, sure,” he said, chuckling on his way out the door.

  Five minutes later, Casey carried her luggage downstairs and heard Summer chatting in the living room. She poked her head inside to find Lou listening to Summer complain about one of her swim practices. Casey gazed at the appliquéd picture above the fire place. Dad had bought the piece for Rhonda at a craft show. The variety of stitching, thread, fabric, and wool had produced an astounding portrait of what Rhonda called her “Glamor Ladies.” In the scene, two well-dressed women stood at a bar. Both had their backs to the viewer, but one of them was looking at a man standing at the end of the bar. Casey wasn’t sure whether it was the color and texture or the image that was so provocative, but the picture always captured her attention.

  When Summer finished talking, Lou noticed Casey and stood, “Ready to go?”

  “As soon as I get the cookies Summer promised.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Summer hurried out of the room.

  Lou’s expression grew serious. “So, this is really happening?”

  “Yes.”

  He nodded. “Europe can be pretty lonely if you’re on your own.”

  He would know. Right after she and Greg got married, Lou backpacked around Europe for six months.

  “Wish I could go with you,” he added, “but I used all my holidays.”

  Casey squeezed his arm. “You’re a good friend.”

  “Ditto, so you’ll understand when I say that going alone is a bad idea.”

  “Yeah, I understand.” She studied him a few moments. “Remember the part in The African Queen, when Bogart had to get into the water to move his boat? And when he climbed out, there were leeches all over him?”

  “Are you saying you want me here in the swamp?”

  “I’m saying I might need your help getting the leeches off me when I come home.”

  He attempted a smile. “I can do that.”

  “And I have another favor to ask.”

  “Anything.”

  Casey gripped his hand. In all the years she’d known this man, Lou had never let her down. Maybe Rhonda was right. Maybe she should give romance another chance, but with her best friend? She couldn’t stand the thought of losing him if things didn’t work out.

  “Could you look in on Rhonda and Summer while I’m gone? Hang out with them maybe?”

  “Are you worried about them?”

  “Kind of. The new tenant’s been hovering around them since he’s been here,” she whispered, “ingratiating himself in their lives, and I’m getting a bad vibe. Darcy needs to know that someone else watches out for them besides me.”

  Lou’s jaw tightened. “I want to meet this guy.”

  “Not now, okay? I’ve got to be at the airport in thirty minutes. But could you stay at my place some nights and make your presence known?” She picked up her luggage and ushered Lou toward the kitchen. “Rhonda would love to cook for you.”

  “No problem, I’ll be in the guy’s face.”

  As they entered the kitchen, Summer handed Casey the cookie bag and Rhonda hung up the phone.

  “Summer, how about you help Lou take my things to the truck? I need to talk to your mom a second.”

  “Sure.”

  When they were out of earshot, Casey said, “Lou’s going to stay at my place some nights—thought you might like the extra company.”

  “Sure.” She picked up a dishcloth. “You know, I’ve been thinking that Marcus might have been planning on coming back to us.”

  Good god. Where had that come from?

  “That’s why he stayed in Vancouver,” Rhonda added. “He was waiting for his chance, only somebody didn’t want him returning to his old life so he, or she, killed him.”

  Interesting theory, but Casey didn’t buy it.

  “I can read your face,” Rhonda said. “You think I’m wrong.”

  “I’d rather deal in facts.”

  “You think Marcus didn’t love me enough to want to come back, don’t you?”

  “I don’t think that at all.”

  But given that Dad h
ad been away so much during that last year, Casey had wondered if his love for Rhonda was as strong as Rhonda believed. They’d been friends since before Casey was born and grew closer after Dad threw Mother out. Rhonda had been the one to ask Dad out on an official date, and she was the one who’d proposed. Rhonda had described how they’d been having the time of their lives at a restaurant, eating lobster, drinking champagne, and before she knew it she’d popped the question. She didn’t have a ring, so she gave Dad her copper bracelet, but Casey hadn’t seen Dad wear it often.

  “Rhonda, I should get go—”

  “God, sometimes you’re so much like Lillian.”

  What the hell was bringing all this on? Rhonda knew comparisons to Mother infuriated her because they were partly true. Hard as Casey tried, certain traits couldn’t be banished. There was a big difference, though, between manipulating situations to expose truths and manipulating situations to hide them.

  “Come outside.” Casey stepped onto the back porch and glanced at the kitchen to make sure Darcy wasn’t nearby. “Darcy sure seems attracted to you.”

  Rhonda grinned. “I don’t know why a young stud would waste time on a pudgy middle-aged divorcée, but I’m enjoying the attention.”

  “He seems to spend a fair amount of time with Summer too.” Casey glanced over her shoulder. “Doesn’t the guy have anything better to do?”

  “Not that I know of, but I went through his stuff yesterday, just to make sure there’s nothing kinky or weird about him.”

  Casey’s mouth fell open.

  “Don’t look so shocked. You know I’d do anything to protect my daughter, and his references could have been bogus. Anyhow, I didn’t find any porn magazines, and he doesn’t own a computer.” She glanced over Casey’s shoulder and then lowered her voice further. “I know none of this proves he’s the picture of innocence, but I’m watching him as closely as he watches me.”

  “Do you think he’s up to something?”

  “Maybe cheap rent and sex,” she shrugged. “He’s on his cell phone a lot, but I have no idea who he talks to. Darcy never mentions family or friends.”

  Rhonda had been known to eavesdrop from time to time. Casey suspected this was why she had no long-term tenants. How many other tenants had had their suites searched?

  “Don’t worry, Casey, I’ll keep an eye on him. Maybe learn more through some pillow talk, and let me tell you, I’m looking forward to the research.”

  “Not a great plan, Rhonda.”

  “I know what I’m doing, sweetie. I’m not a total fool.”

  “True.” But she had her gullible moments. “I should go.”

  Rhonda reached for her arm. “Stay safe, and don’t forget to call.”

  Casey gave her a big hug. “I will.”

  She hurried down the steps and into Lou’s pickup. As Lou pulled away, she looked back at the house. Darcy had joined Rhonda and Summer on the porch. As mother and daughter waved, Darcy stood between them, arms around their waists, and a smile on his face.

  Thirteen

  TO KILL TIME on the airplane, Casey had read about the barren, open spaces of England’s North Yorkshire County. Much had been written about the crimson and purple foliage of the moors in autumn, but the brilliant spring greens she saw in and around the village of Goathland were breathtaking.

  At the tiny train station, one of the locals told Casey she could arrange for a taxi at the pub up the road. She’d found the village cabby starting his lunch and had agreed to meet him in a half hour.

  As she strolled through the village, past open fields and toward the moor, the afternoon sunlight made the fields almost glow. It was a sharp contrast to the stone fences and brown stone houses. Casey had never been in a village where there were more sheep than human beings, and these animals acted like they owned the place. Two strutted down the road. Some grazed in cottage yards while others rested in the fields. Still, this was a beautiful spot, evidently known for its hiking trails.

  Once sitting inside the taxi, Casey grew more apprehensive about meeting people from Dad’s other life. Her anxiety grew as they approached an H-shaped hotel in a shallow valley. The building was protected on two sides by enormous oak and beech trees. The walls were streaked with soot. Blinds covered most of the windows as if to indicate that neither light or visitors were welcome.

  “This is a rather isolated site for a hotel, isn’t it?”

  “It’s full up in summer with ramblers,” the driver answered. “There are also the permanent lodgers.”

  He parked in front of double wooden doors at the center of the building, then retrieved Casey’s luggage. A bald, pale man looked at her through a window pane near the door. A moment later he was gone.

  The hotel lobby displayed a scruffy collection of wing chairs, gouged tabletops, and faded paintings of fox hunts. Casey told the young desk clerk she was here to meet Daphne Reid and asked for directions to the gift shop he managed.

  “Go out the main doors and down the side of the building,” she said.

  “Thanks.”

  Ten minutes later, Casey had dumped her things in her drab and chilly, second-floor room and was heading outside. She strolled around the side of the building and walked past a giant checkerboard embedded in the spacious lawn. Wet leaves were scattered over the squares, a soggy paper bag marooned in a puddle. It must have rained heavily last night.

  The gift shop was locked, a Closed sign propped between a collection of dolls and music boxes in the form of tiny, thatched-roof cottages. Peeking through the window, she saw a room that looked more like an art gallery than a gift shop. Unframed canvases filled the walls. More were stacked against shelves.

  Casey turned and spotted a man kneeling in front of a flower bed. The gardener pulled out a weed, wiped his hands, and then repeated the process. Stepping closer, she recognized the same bald head she’d seen in the window.

  “Excuse me,” Casey said. “Sorry to bother you, but could you tell me where Daphne Reid is? The gift shop’s closed.”

  He looked around and then pointed at a man and woman approaching a tall thick hedge on the far side of the lawn. “That’s him, heading into the maze.”

  Casey jogged across the yard and caught up to Reid as he was kissing the woman. “Sorry to interrupt,” she said as the couple turned to her, “but I’m Casey Holland and we spoke on the phone about my dad, Marcus.”

  “Right.” He gave the woman a tap on her rear. “Off you go.”

  The woman, who looked about seventeen, glared at Casey as she marched back toward the hotel.

  “So, where’s my drawing, luv?”

  “In my hotel room.”

  He smirked. “Let’s have a look then, shall we?”

  “Can’t we talk first?”

  “Not until I make sure you brought the right drawing. Let’s go to your room.”

  Casey sighed. The jerk was already trying her patience. “You’ll get your picture, Mr. Reid, provided I get the information I need.”

  His smirk turned to a sneer as he removed a pen knife from pants pocket. “You think you can order me about?”

  Casey backed up. “Hey, I’m not looking for trouble.”

  As Reid looked past her shoulder his sneer vanished. A moment later he was running into the maze, chased by a man with a black ponytail who ran past Casey. Holy crap, what in hell was Theo Ziegler doing here? She’d come too far to let Reid disappear, and since she wanted answers from Ziegler too, Casey started after both them. She hadn’t gone far before she saw Reid slip on the mud and fall. The knife disappeared in the hedge.

  It took only three seconds before Ziegler had him pinned to the ground. Reid grunted and tried to scramble away, but the mud was too slippery. Twisting his upper body, Reid took a swipe at his opponent and missed. Ziegler forced Reid face down in the mud, but let him turn his head as Ziegler sat on Reid’s back, holding his wrists together.

  “What do you want to do with him?” Ziegler asked.

  His long, bl
ack eyes under neatly shaped brows reminded Casey of characters from ancient Egyptian art.

  “Get some answers.” Casey came closer. “Why did you take off when you saw this man, Mr. Reid?”

  Reid gasped for air. “He’s a mate of yours, isn’t he? That’s why he came after me.”

  “Then you’ve never seen him before?” She glanced at Ziegler who returned an amused expression.

  “No.”

  Strange. Dad and Ziegler had either kept their client lists quite separate or Reid was lying.

  Reid squirmed under Ziegler’s weight. “Tell your mate to bugger off.”

  Ziegler yanked his arms upward. “You’re not the one in charge, so why don’t you tell the lady if you killed her father.” He looked at Casey. “It’s what she came to find out, isn’t—?”

  “What? No! I didn’t kill Marcus. W-who said I did?” Reid stammered. When he tried to throw Ziegler off, Ziegler pushed his face into the mud once again and yanked Reid’s head back by his hair.

  “Can you prove you weren’t in Vancouver on Sunday, April twenty-fifth?” Casey asked.

  “I was in London that night, at a gallery opening in Chelsea.” He gave her the name.

  “You said you have an idea about who killed my father,” she said. “Let’s hear it.”

  “Marcus’s partner, Theodore Ziegler.”

  Casey watched Ziegler’s amusement fade. “Why do you think that?”

  “There have been rumors about big money problems between them for years. Latest one is that Marcus stashed three million American dollars that was supposed to go to TZ Inc. It wouldn’t surprise me if Ziegler ended things for good.”

  “Are there any facts to back up these stories?”

  “If you don’t believe me, talk to his fiancée. She’ll know.”

  “Fiancée?” What did Rhonda have to do with this?

  “Lives in Amsterdam; name’s Gislinde.”

  Oh, no. “You’ve met her?”

  “No, but Marcus and I had a few drinks last time he was here, and he told me what a fancy bit she is. There were problems between them, mind you; something about his past with other women. Maybe she killed him.”

  Casey looked at Ziegler. “Let him up.”

  Ziegler took his time doing so.