Deadly Accusations

by Debra Purdy Kong

  “All right, kids,” Lou called out. “Back off.”

  The boys kept scowling at each other. Neither of them moved. Marie reached Mo just as Scott shoved past Casey and drove his fist into Mo’s stomach. Mo lost his balance and grabbed Casey’s arm. She tried to break free but couldn’t and went down with him. The back of her head thudded against the floor.

  “Casey!”

  She heard Lou’s voice, but her eyes were shut tight as waves of pain ricocheted around her head. Mo’s leg jostled under her right thigh and then slid free. The back of her head felt like it was on fire. She opened her eyes, but wavering black dots made it hard to focus on the faces hovering above her.

  “Casey?” Lou asked. “Are you okay, hon?”

  “I think so.” She closed her eyes again, hoping the dots would go away. Her head pounded so hard she could only hear snippets of chatter.

  “Sorry, lady.” Mo’s voice. “I didn’t do it on purpose.”

  “Move back!” Lou reached for Casey’s arm. “Let’s get you up.”

  Hands slid under her back. Pain shot across her skull as they helped her sit up.

  “Where are you hurt?” Lou asked. “It’s your head, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah.”

  Casey squinted while hands clasped her back and shoulders. Nausea rippled through her as she was lifted off the floor and into a seat. Perspiration dampened her upper lip.

  Lou’s warm hands touched her cheeks. “I’ll call for an ambulance.”

  “Don’t, I just need aspirin and a cold pack.”

  “You might have a concussion.”

  “Sorry about what happened.” Scott looked panic-stricken as he appeared in front of her. “I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”

  Before she could respond, Lou turned on the kid. “She asked you to stop and you didn’t!” He removed a notepad from his shirt pocket. “I want your name and phone number.”

  After Scott mumbled the information, he and his friends left the bus.

  A minute later, Marie reappeared. “The other bunch is leaving too. I’ve got their names and numbers.”

  Lou turned to Casey, his eyes filled with worry and what she thought might be fear. “You look so pale.”

  “I’m fine.” She tried a smile, but it made her feel worse. “I blew it again.”

  “You took action from the get-go, and of course you couldn’t manhandle a bunch of kids, especially after what Jasmine did.”

  Casey started to shake her head, but it hurt too much. “I’m off my game. Can’t even catch the stupid rockhound.”

  “Lou, it looks like the fight’s continuing outside,” Marie said. “It’d be safer if we call the police rather than intervene.”

  “Then do it,” he said as he studied Casey. “Let me check your head.”

  His fingertips began a gentle probe until she gasped with pain. “You’re already swelling. I’ll get a pack from the first aid kit.”

  Casey took slow, deep breaths to calm her churning stomach. Around her, passengers muttered things she couldn’t quite decipher.

  As Lou returned, he hit the pack, then shook it. “Here, it’s already getting cold.” He handed the pack to Casey. “I don’t have any painkillers, but I’ll see if Marie does.” He squeezed her hands. “Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?”

  “Absolutely.” Carefully, she held the pack against the part that hurt the most.

  “Okay, call if you need me.”

  Marie joined them. “Are you all right, Casey?”

  “I will be.”

  “I’ve got Advil.” Marie dropped a couple of pills in her hand, then gave her the bottled water she always carried.

  “Thanks.” After she took the pills, she closed her eyes once again. Gradually, conversations faded as she blocked out everything and tried to relax.

  She had no idea how much time had passed when Marie shouted, “Look at that!”

  Casey sat up slowly as they turned into Mainland’s yard. She didn’t notice anything unusual until the bus was facing the garage at the back of the depot. Someone had spray painted “Remember Jasmine” in large red letters across the top of the building.

  Lou helped her off the bus. When they reached her Tercel, he stopped to examine the back of her head. “You’re growing one hell of a goose egg. Are you sure you don’t need a doctor?”

  “The Advil’s helping.” She had no intention of waiting in an emergency room for god knows how long. “I should go in and write my report. Stan will want it asap.”

  “You can do it from home. Didn’t you just buy a laptop so you could send reports from anywhere?”

  “Good point. I just need a few more minutes before I get behind the wheel.”

  “I’ll get you another cold pack, and then I should drive you home.”

  She didn’t want to leave her car here. As Lou hurried toward the admin building, Casey leaned against the Tercel and gazed at the sign. Given everything she’d learned about Jasmine this week, how could she not remember her?

  She surveyed the silver compact parked next to her. Didn’t Eisler’s assistant, Jan, drive one? Or was it the new girl? Shit, why was she even thinking this way? The vehicle spotted at the murder scene probably didn’t belong to Mainland staff at all.

  “Do you like the sign?”

  Casey turned to find Roberto strolling up to her, his lunch pail and apple in hand. A grease streak ran down his right pant leg. “Well, it’s big. Who made it?”

  “That’s a mystery.” Roberto’s amused expression faded as he stepped closer to her. “You look hung over.”

  “I got caught between two kids fighting. Fell and hit my head.”

  “Marie must have had a shitty time too.” He glanced over his shoulder at the admin building. “I passed her a minute ago and said hi, but she wouldn’t even look at me. I wonder if she heard about the pool.” He bit into his apple.

  “What pool?”

  Roberto chewed a few moments. “After Marie started telling people about the VP being hot for Jasmine and that he didn’t have an alibi, some of the guys started a murder pool.”

  “Tacky, Roberto.”

  “They’re just trying to help the morale around here. Anyway, Birch is the heavy favorite despite his so-called alibi, though my money’s on Eisler.”

  “Why?”

  Roberto’s expression became grim. “The night before Jasmine died, she called me around midnight. Said that Eisler had phoned her earlier, while Noel was there. The jerk wanted to meet her for a drink, but she turned him down.”

  “Have you told the police?”

  “I will when I need to.” He took another bite of apple.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing much.” Roberto shrugged and kept chewing.

  “Hey, would you like to take one of Jasmine’s hamsters or guinea pigs off my hands? I can’t keep them.”

  “No, you know me; I’m rarely home.”

  The smell of diesel fumes from an incoming bus made her feel nauseous. Nearby, three clerical staff stopped walking to look up at the sign.

  One of them turned to Roberto and said, “Nice work.”

  “It wasn’t me,” he replied.

  Casey wasn’t surprised that none of the women spoke to her. Word had gotten around that she was helping Marie find the killer, and staff had started avoiding her. Not everyone wanted their alibis investigated by a colleague. A handful of curious employees kept asking Casey what she knew. Those were the people she’d started to avoid. Still, the truth had to come out. Secrets and lies had a way of piling so high that, sooner or later, they’d topple. The larger the stack, the more harmful the crash. Her parents’ deceptions had taught her that.

  “Who else is on the suspect list in your pool?” Casey asked.

  “Jasmine’s half sister, Gabrielle. Marie told us some nasty things about her.”

  The big mouth had been busy. “Did Jasmine say anything about Gabrielle’s visit the Sunday before she died?
”

  “I didn’t even know her half sister was in town until Marie told me a couple of days ago.”

  “Did you notice any irritability in Jasmine before her death?”

  “Jasmine was her usual sweet self.” Roberto watched the clerks head for their cars.

  Sweet self? Hadn’t he heard about her and Jasmine’s nasty exchange on the stairwell the day before she died? On the other hand, Jasmine had been friendly with Roberto the same morning.

  “Roberto, did you ever take any photos of Jasmine?”

  He smirked. “Why, do you want one for your album?”

  “Funny; I saw a picture of her recently and was wondering who the photographer was.”

  “Maybe it was professionally done.”

  “No, she looked asleep in her bed.”

  Roberto’s eyebrows shot up. “Freaky.” He took another bite of his apple. “We never talked about her love life. Just went dancing and out for beers.” He glanced at Casey. “You know me. Never serious, always moving on.”

  Casey knew about Roberto’s commitment phobia, and how it often clashed with his inability to be alone. Therapists could build careers on Roberto’s relationship issues. She wouldn’t be surprised if he’d slept with Jasmine.

  Behind them a familiar voice said, “Miss Holland, why are you interrogating my staff?”

  Casey and Roberto turned to find David Eisler standing by the hood of her car. His arms were crossed and his pinched mouth formed a thin line on his perma-tan face. How long had the jerk been eavesdropping?

  “We’re just chatting,” Roberto said.

  Casey knew Roberto didn’t like the VP. Eisler probably didn’t like him either.

  “Are you aware that Miss Holland’s helping Mrs. Crenshaw look for a suspect to replace her brother?”

  “Not at Mainland,” Casey replied.

  Lou joined them, his expression wary as he looked at Eisler and Roberto.

  “I don’t want you asking employees about Jasmine.” Eisler glared. “Understand?”

  Was he afraid of the truth? “Yes.” Casey bit back her anger as she accepted the fresh pack from Lou.

  “Roberto, I want that sign gone today, is that clear?”

  “I didn’t do it.”

  “I don’t care. You work in the garage, so get rid of it.” He charged inside the building.

  “What flew up his ass?” Roberto asked, turning to Lou. “How’s it going?”

  “It’s going.”

  Casey wondered why he was staring at Roberto’s apple. Why was Lou avoiding eye contact with him? These two were buddies.

  “Do you guys think Noel’s innocent?” Roberto asked.

  “Don’t know,” Lou answered.

  Roberto moved closer to Casey. “You aren’t really digging for dirt on the guys Jasmine was seeing, are you?”

  “No.”

  “Then why were you asking me about photos and Jasmine’s mood and stuff?”

  “Just curious. You know what I’m like.”

  “Don’t start playing games, okay?” Roberto’s voice was quiet.

  “I’m not.” Casey placed the cold pack on her bump. “You came up to me, remember?”

  “Maybe that was a mistake.” He started to leave, but stopped. “If you want to play detective, then check out Eisler’s alibi. Remember when I got back from the root canal that morning and you wouldn’t tell me what was going on?”

  “Yeah.” She still felt bad about that.

  “Well, I saw him barrelling into this lot just after you took off, acting all nervous and scoping the place out like he was worried about being seen. He sure didn’t look happy when he saw me watching him.” Roberto tossed his apple on the ground. “Makes you wonder, don’t it?”

  Roberto marched to his Corvette. In the decade she’d known Roberto, he’d never been angry with her, and she felt bad for making a friend feel like a suspect. Casey sighed as she watched him peel out of the yard.

  “He has no right to judge you or David,” Lou said, “especially when he just lied.”

  “What?”

  “He couldn’t have had a root canal that morning.” Lou looked at the discarded apple. “I saw him eating an apple right after he got to work. Just thought about it when I saw him toss that one.”

  “As soon as he got out of his car, he asked me where Jasmine was.” She lowered the cold pack. “Think I should tell someone?”

  “I guess.” He turned to the sign. “I find it hard to believe Robert would . . .” He shook his head.

  Casey placed her hand on his shoulder. “I’ll phone Lundy, though he might want to talk to you.”

  “Whatever.”

  She knew Lou hated the thought of ratting on a friend as much as she did. Yet this wasn’t about swiping office supplies, or using Mainland’s computers for personal reasons. This was murder.

  TWELVE

  RELIEF SWEPT THROUGH CASEY. SHE was moments away from a hot bath and her comfy bed. When she turned off Violet Street and saw the familiar green Subaru parked behind her home, relief vanished. What the hell was Summer’s grandmother doing here on a Wednesday? Winifred always came by on Sundays. Anxiety propelled Casey out of her car and up the steps. When she flung open the back door, the smell of frying liver and onions made her gag.

  “Finally home, are you?” Winifred removed two dinner plates from the cupboard.

  “It was a tough shift.” If Winifred was cooking, things couldn’t be that serious. “What brings you here? Is Summer okay?”

  “No, my granddaughter is not getting proper care.”

  Casey tossed her purse and cold pack on the kitchen table. “Where is she?”

  “In her room, presumably doing homework like I told her to.” Winifred picked up a wooden spoon and began stirring the food.

  Summer hated doing homework before supper. “What’s happened?”

  Winifred smacked the spoon on the stove, and then turned around. “Her principal called. It seems that Summer left the grounds at lunchtime without permission and didn’t return.”

  “He should have called me.”

  “Apparently, your cell phone wasn’t on.”

  Oh, hell. She’d shut it off before she boarded the M10. The ride was short and the job had required her full attention. Besides, Summer was supposed to have been in school. She turned the phone back on.

  “What did Summer say about it?”

  “That she’d been in a park with those delinquents she calls friends, and I could smell the smoke on her.”

  Casey stared at the tall, scowling woman. “Summer’s friends smoke, but she doesn’t. We talked about it last Sunday.”

  Winifred gave her a sarcastic smile. “You assumed she was telling the truth?”

  Casey had counted on it. The thought of Summer resorting to more lies and deeper acts of rebellion was too unsettling to think about.

  A pouting Summer shuffled into the kitchen, Cheyenne trailing after her. Casey gaped at the dirty jeans drooping below Summer’s hips and the pink tank top exposing her midriff. She hadn’t gone to school looking like that. In fact, Casey hadn’t seen those clothes before.

  Winifred said, “The principal told me that you’ve been late for school a number of times, Summer, and have been using foul language in class.” She removed a pack of cigarettes and a silver lighter from her sweater pocket. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

  “Everyone swears,” Summer replied. “It’s no big deal.”

  Casey hoped she didn’t look as shocked as she felt.

  “Is that supposed to justify your behavior?” Winifred lit the cigarette.

  Cheyenne padded up to the stove, raised her snout, and sniffed the air.

  Winifred glared at the retriever. “Must that dog be in the kitchen?”

  Casey clapped her hands. “Come, Cheyenne.”

  Wagging her tail, the dog approached her.

  “You look awful,” Summer said to Casey. “Bad day?”

  “You could say that.” Ca
sey sat as she briefly described what had happened on the bus.

  When she was finished, Summer slumped into the chair opposite her and said, “People need to fight sometimes.”

  “Speaking of your job,” Winifred said as she switched off a burner and placed her cigarette in a saucer, “I heard that one of your colleagues was killed.”

  “Yes.”

  Winifred didn’t approve of her career choice, nor did she like Mainland Public Transport’s “lousy service and painfully hard seats.” Whenever the company received bad press, she always brought it up. Since Winifred used public transit only as a last resort, Casey didn’t care what she thought.

  “Summer shouldn’t be exposed to violence.” Winifred poured boiling water out of a pot. “Hasn’t she had enough—”

  “No one should be exposed to violence,” Casey interrupted. “But it happens.”

  “Summer needs stronger supervision.” Winifred shook potatoes onto two dinner plates. “So, I’ve moved into Rhonda’s room.”

  Casey and Summer exchanged horrified glances. If Rhonda had wanted her mother living in the same house with Summer, she would have asked her.

  “You can’t do that!” Summer sat upright.

  “Moving in is unnecessary,” Casey said, trying to stay calm.

  “You’re both wrong.” Winifred dumped broccoli next to the potatoes. “Look, Casey, you’re not here when she comes home from school, and now you’re working nights, too. No wonder this child is running wild.”

  “I’m not!” Summer shouted.

  “The extra shifts are temporary.” As Casey’s anger rose, her head pounded harder. “Lou or Mrs. Nally are always with her if I’m working late.”

  “A man,” Winifred muttered. “You let a man stay with her. That has to stop.”

  “Winifred, I really don’t think—”

  “I help pay the taxes on this drafty old house, so I’m entitled to stay here now and then. I’ve already moved my things in and that’s that.”

  The old bat had a point. When both of the second floor studio suites were rented out, the income covered Rhonda’s mortgage and living expenses. When Rhonda had trouble keeping tenants, as she often did, Winifred helped out. This year, she’d paid the property taxes. Casey had hoped to pay for everything herself, but she’d shelled out big bucks to have the plumbing fixed, which had nearly cleaned out her savings.