Deadly Accusations

by Debra Purdy Kong

  “It’s so sad, Casey,” one said to her.

  “Yes.”

  “Terrible,” the other added. “I didn’t really know her, but she seemed nice.”

  Casey’s shame deepened. She couldn’t think of a kind thing to say about Jasmine; didn’t share their level of grief.

  While the women moved on, Lou arrived and took the seat she’d saved for him “You okay?” he asked. “Your face is all red.”

  “I hate watching them go through this.”

  “The heat in here doesn’t help. Place feels like a sauna.” Lou took off his uniform jacket, unclipped the matching forest green tie, and undid the top two buttons on his shirt. “It smells like rotting compost, too.”

  The late afternoon sun blazed through the long row of windows. Casey looked at the rush-hour traffic on the highway. She used to love zipping out of Vancouver, through the suburbs, and into the rural Fraser Valley. Years of development had transformed stretches of it into another clogged thoroughfare leading to more developed urban sprawl.

  Wesley Axelson stomped into the room and glowered at everyone as he headed toward the back.

  “Looks like Wesley got hurt again,” Lou murmured.

  Casey saw the wrapped knee beneath Wes’s baggy gym shorts. In his bid to become a pro wrestler, Wesley had injured body parts so many times that he was often wearing some type of bandage.

  “He’s not in uniform,” she said. “Is this his day off?”

  “He switched with someone a couple of days ago.”

  Wesley leaned against the back wall near Casey and crossed his arms.

  “Who’s the tall guy following Eisler?” Lou asked.

  Casey turned and observed the solemn, thirty-something man scanning employees’ faces. “RCMP, I think. Stan said a Corporal Lundy wants to look at Jasmine’s locker. I’m supposed to open it for him.”

  “Good thing you were in class when she was shot.”

  “Why, because she and I argued yesterday?”

  Lou squeezed her hand. “We’ll all need alibis, sweetheart.”

  “Maybe some more than others.” Casey watched Eisler tug on his shirt collar. His perpetual tan glowed with perspiration and it looked like strands of hair had escaped from his perfect, light brown layers. “Eisler sure seems nervous.”

  “He should. I wasn’t the only one who knew he was hot for Jasmine,” Lou mumbled.

  Once Stan and the rest of management arrived, the VP made a lacklustre speech about Jasmine’s “warm sparkling personality” and “tremendous contribution” to Mainland. By the end of it, Casey was disheartened. It wasn’t that Eisler had lied about her. After all, lots of coworkers had liked Jasmine and she’d volunteered on Mainland’s social committee. She’d also worked shifts no one else wanted. Why hadn’t she let Casey see that warm sparkling side? What had she done to earn Jasmine’s wrath?

  As soon as the corporal was introduced, Roberto said, “Have you arrested anyone yet? Is there even a suspect?”

  Casey could only see the back of Roberto’s head, but the anger in his voice was clear. She heard Wesley snort and saw him roll his eyes.

  “I’m afraid we don’t have much to report at this time,” the corporal answered.

  “At this stage, the authorities need to gather information, not give it,” Eisler said. “And I must ask that none of you speak to the media. If you’re approached, refer them to me.”

  “Won’t that make it look like we’re hiding something?” a driver asked.

  Eisler’s gaze bore into the driver. “It will look like you don’t know anything about Jasmine’s death, which I assume is true.”

  Pensive glances darted around the room.

  “Have you checked out her ex, Elliott Birch?” Roberto asked. “He was stalking her and that’s a fact.”

  Casey glanced at Lou who stared straight ahead. She hadn’t heard about any stalking.

  “You should discuss that privately with the corporal,” Eisler answered.

  “Should we be worried?” a dispatcher asked. “I mean, the killer isn’t targeting Mainland staff, is he?”

  “At this time, ma’am,” Lundy replied, “we have no reason to believe employees are at risk.”

  “Officers will be contacting those of you who’d worked with Jasmine recently,” Eisler stated. “Make yourselves available. That’s all for now.”

  Wesley swore under his breath and stomped to the exit. Others shuffled out while murmuring to one another. Casey spotted Stan chatting with Lundy while Eisler rushed out of the room.

  “I’d better get this locker thing over with,” she told Lou.

  A minute later, she’d introduced herself to Corporal Lundy and he was following her down the hall.

  “Did you know Mrs. Birch well?” he asked.

  “Not really. We didn’t socialize or work many shifts together.”

  “Your supervisor told me about an altercation she had with a student?”

  “Yes, the girl was on the bus today. All of the kids were quiet.” She watched Lundy jot something on a notepad. “You do know the kids are only twelve years old, right? They’re not gangbangers, just cliques with attitude.”

  He peered at her. “I understand you and Mrs. Birch also argued yesterday.”

  She knew this was coming. “I was mad that she’d slapped the girl, yes.”

  “I meant before your shift,” Lundy said, “in the stairwell yesterday morning?”

  Casey stopped walking. Damn, someone must have overheard her with Jasmine.

  “For reasons I don’t understand, Jasmine didn’t like me much. She made it clear she didn’t want to work with me and that’s why we argued.” She resumed walking. “A colleague said Jasmine was sitting in her car when she was shot in the head. I also heard that a van was seen driving off. Is that true?”

  “Which colleague told you this?”

  “Marie Crenshaw. She described the crime scene, Corporal, and it sounds like Jasmine was shot at close range, which makes me wonder if she recognized the driver and didn’t think he’d be a threat.” His stare irritated her. “Yesterday was warm. Jasmine usually drove with the window down and music blaring. If music was on and her eyes closed, she might not have heard or seen anything until it was too late.”

  “Do you know people who have access to guns?” Lundy asked.

  “I can’t think of anyone.” Oh, crap. Wesley had a gun rack in his truck but she’d never seen a gun in the rack, or even heard him mention one. “Do you know if she was killed with a shotgun or a handgun?”

  “That information’s not yet available to the public.”

  And she was the public; no more, no less. Casey pictured Jasmine slouched in the driver’s seat, her head against the door, music playing. She imagined the van drawing nearer, the driver raising a gun. Jasmine might have turned her head and spotted the weapon just as . . . Casey’s stomach churned.

  “What time did you finish your shift this morning?” Lundy asked.

  “Ten o’clock. I then had a ten-thirty class at the Burnaby Mountain campus, but I was a half hour late because I forgot my textbook and binder, and had to drive home.” Casey stopped at the women’s locker room.

  “Can anyone verify when you returned home?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Then you don’t live alone?”

  “Yes and no. I rent the top floor apartment in a large house on Napier Street in East Van. The owner’s a good friend who’s away for a while, so I’m acting as landlord to two other tenants. I’m also legal guardian to my landlord’s daughter, who would have been at school. The tenants each have a room on the second floor at the back of the house, and I don’t know if they were home.”

  “Do you share a common entrance?”

  “The tenants usually enter through the front door. I park at the back and go in through the kitchen. The house is on a corner lot, so the tenants park either in front or on the side street. I honestly didn’t notice if their cars were around or not.”
>
  “What are the tenants’ names and phone numbers?”

  “I don’t have their numbers handy.” After she gave him their names, Lundy said, “You were in class at the time of the murder then?”

  “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.

  SIX

  “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 straight
ened 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.”