“Yes, and why did you give her my name? What’s wrong with you?”
Lou roared into the depot and screeched to a halt.
“Sorry, but I can’t travel far from my kids. They’re upset enough about not being able to come home. At least Summer’s old enough to understand.”
Lou jogged up to them.
“Morning, Lou,” Marie said. “Casey got a call from Jasmine’s mother last night.”
Casey fumed. Would she ever stop stirring things up?
“I know.” He stopped at the entrance. “I’d like to talk to Casey privately a minute.”
Marie looked disappointed. “A minute’s about all you have or we’ll be late.”
As she boarded the M10, Casey and Lou strolled out of earshot.
“Are you going to Parksville?” he asked.
“I think so, yeah. I’m worried about Hannah. She was scared that Gabrielle would destroy the letters, which makes me wonder if there’s something nasty about her in them.”
“What about Summer?”
“She’s okay with me going.”
“I’m not sure I am.” Lou’s gaze was intense. “You’ll be on your own over there.”
“As long as you and Stan are the only people who know when I’m leaving, I’ll be fine. I’ll make sure I’m not being tailed. By the way, the ballistics test came back. The bullet in the bus came from a Glock twenty-seven; the same gun used on Marie’s house.”
“Shit.”
“Roberto has a new alibi, verified by the cops. It seems he was having fun with a married woman.”
“Come on, you two!” Marie shouted.
Lou shook his head. “Who’s doing this?”
“I don’t know. All the more reason to find out what Jasmine wrote in those letters.”
“What if you run into Gabrielle? Isn’t she a suspect too?”
“Since we’ve never met, she won’t know who I am.”
“When are you leaving?”
“After class tomorrow. Will you feed the critters while I’m gone? It will only be twenty-four hours, and I swear I’ll make it up to you. I’ll make everything up to you, promise.”
Lou studied her a moment, then kissed her cheek. “Tell me how later.”
TWENTY-THREE
CASEY TOOK A DEEP YOGA breath, realizing too late that she’d just filled her lungs with the smell of antiseptic. She blew the air out fast and shook the tension from her shoulders before knocking on Hannah O’Reilly’s door. The door was one of a dozen lining the spacious corridor inside Grantwood Manor, although “manor” was too grand a word for this single-story structure. The immaculate lawn and vibrant rose gardens separated by footpaths were impressive, though.
Despite Stan’s and Summer’s support, Casey had had second thoughts about coming here; however, Hannah phoned again last night and tearfully begged her to come read the letters as soon as possible. It seemed Gabrielle suspected Hannah of hiding something, and Hannah was convinced that Gabrielle would soon search her room.
Casey knocked on the door, and looked up and down the hallway. If it wasn’t for the telltale hospital smell, this place could be mistaken for a hotel. Landscape paintings were strategically spaced between sconces illuminating the corridor.
“Just a minute,” a woman answered.
Once Casey had exited the ferry and begun the half-hour drive north to Parksville, misgivings about this trip had started to magnify. By the time she’d cleared Nanaimo’s long sprawl of big box stores, shopping malls, fast food joints, and other businesses, anxiety had really kicked in.
The doorknob turned slowly. When a tall, white-haired woman with Jasmine’s sapphire eyes peered at her, Casey was taken aback. She’d pictured Hannah as a stooped, feeble old lady, not this erect, confident-looking woman. The only evidence of her stroke was a slight droop on the right side of her mouth.
“Casey?”
“Yes, hi.”
“Welcome.” Hannah stepped back. “Please come in.”
Casey entered a spacious room containing bedroom furniture and a sitting area at the far end. An alcove off the sitting area contained a small sink, bar fridge, and toaster oven. French doors opened onto a large, enclosed courtyard filled with orchids, gardenias, and other tropical flowers.
“This is far nicer than I would have expected from a government facility,” Casey said.
“Actually, it’s a private care facility, which essentially means that the place is an overpriced transition house. Residents here don’t need full nursing care, but they still can’t quite manage on their own yet.”
Not cheap, Casey thought; yet Parksville was a picturesque, oceanside resort town with enough golf courses and activities to attract plenty of well-off retirees.
“Come, let’s sit down.” Hannah strolled past the wheelchair by her bed and chose a cushioned chair at the round glass table. Judging from her smooth gait, she didn’t need the wheelchair, at least for short distances.
Casey spotted the flat-screen, wall-mounted TV above a chest of drawers opposite the bed. The walls were mauve and the quilt on Hannah’s twin bed was dark purple with yellow and white flowers. An oil painting of lilacs hung above the bed. Violet plants sat on tabletops. Casey wondered if every room was a tribute to the many shades of purple, or whether Hannah had customized it with bedding and flowers.
“Coffee?” A pot, two cups and saucers, and a plate of sugar cookies were on the table.
“That’d be great, thanks.”
“Would you mind pouring? My arm isn’t quite strong enough to lift a full pot. It took both hands just to get the stupid thing to the table.”
Casey began to pour. “I’m glad you called me back last night. I was worried about you.”
“I realized that I must have sounded like a frantic nut after my initial call.” Hannah clasped her hands together and rested them on the table. “I was just so shocked to spot Gabrielle coming down the hall.” She nodded toward the courtyard. “She rarely visits these days.”
Casey saw a row of windows at the end of the courtyard and recognized the lobby. “I’m sorry if this sounds nosy, but why do you think Gabrielle would destroy your letters?”
“She thinks I’m losing my memory and have forgotten about my grandson. She wouldn’t want me to have any reminders of Jeremy or his mother.”
“She didn’t get along with Jasmine?”
“She doesn’t want to share a million-dollar inheritance with her nephew. She’s resentful enough that her brothers will each inherit the same.” Hannah slurped her coffee. “As long as Gabrielle thinks I’m weak and forgetful, she’s less likely to snoop into my affairs.” Hannah slid the cookie plate toward her. “Help yourself.”
“Thanks.” While Hannah slowly poured cream into her coffee, Casey noticed an eight-by-ten photo of four school-age children on the night table. “Nice looking kids.”
“My grandchildren.”
Casey drank the coffee. Good and strong. “I guess Jasmine was your first child?”
“My third, actually. Her two half brothers are older and Gabrielle is three years younger. I know this sounds odd, Miss Holland.”
“Call me Casey.”
“And I’m Hannah.” She sipped her coffee. “My parents were conservative, religious people. When my husband died and I was left to manage our farm, they kept throwing eligible men my way, hoping I’d find a new husband. When they ran out of church people they resorted to reliable farmhands.”
“It doesn’t sound like much fun.”
“Oh, I had my moments.” Her mouth drooped further when she smiled. “I fell in love with one of them and became pregnant, but he ran off. My parents wouldn’t have anything to do with me unless I gave up the baby.” Hannah gazed at the courtyard. “I desperately needed their support, so I left my boys with my sister and brother-in-law for a few weeks and had Jasmine in Vancouver. Then I gave her away.”
“That must have been so difficult.”
“You have no idea.” She plac
ed her hand over her mouth and lowered her gaze. “Two years later, I married again and had Gabrielle. When my husband died, I began the search. Of course, I had no idea Jasmine had been looking for me as well.” The corners of her mouth were turned so far down they nearly reached her chin. “I suppose losing her twice is God’s punishment for giving her up in the first place.”
Casey noticed a senior hobbling toward a rattan chair in the courtyard. “How many letters did Jasmine write?”
“Thirty. Once I was well enough, we spoke on the phone, of course, but I asked her to keep the letters coming. She wrote beautifully detailed letters; said it helped her put things in perspective.”
Crap, this would require more reading than she’d anticipated. “I’d probably only need to read those concerning her work. Did Jasmine write much about her colleagues?”
“A fair bit, yes. She wrote a lot about her friend, Marie Crenshaw.” Hannah looked at Casey. “Jasmine was trying to help Marie sort out a complicated love life.”
Casey smiled. “Marie has three ex-husbands. Complicated describes her life well.”
“Apparently, she’d chosen number four, although he’s already in a relationship.”
The smile faded. She had a feeling Hannah knew about her and Lou. “Did Jasmine write about her own love life?”
“Yes, and I’m afraid her choice of husband was terrible. Jasmine probably sympathized with Marie because she too craved a loving relationship.”
“Most people do.”
“Indeed. Gabrielle’s craving for love is just as strong and her choices have been no better than Jasmine’s. She doesn’t even bother introducing boyfriends anymore because she knows I’ll probably disapprove.”
The strength and bitterness in her voice again struck Casey. So little about Hannah seemed vulnerable. Had the fearful tone in her phone calls been a ploy to bring her here?
“I’ll have to kick her out of my house when I go home in a few days,” Hannah added, dabbing a spot of drool from the corner of her mouth. “After my stroke, she moved out of her apartment to save money. I doubt she wants to resume paying rent, but God knows neither of us wants to live under the same roof again.”
Casey looked away. This was more than she wanted to hear about Hannah’s family problems.
“I’m sorry for being so personal, Casey, but I believe in frank, honest discussion, and the truth is that my daughter’s one of the greediest people I know.”
“It’s okay.” Casey smiled. “Does Gabrielle have a job?”
“She’s a secretary at a management consulting firm here in Parksville.”
The firm wouldn’t be hard to track down. Once the summer tourists and residents left, Parksville’s population was about twelve thousand. How many consulting firms could there be?
“Hannah, did you know that Gabrielle visited Jasmine two days before the murder? It was Sunday afternoon.”
Hannah dropped the tissue she’d been holding. “No, I did not. What happened?”
“I wasn’t there, so I’m getting this secondhand, but Gabrielle essentially told Jasmine to stay out of your life.”
Her sapphire eyes developed an icy glow. “She did, did she?”
“Do you remember what state of mind your daughters were in between Sunday, the twenty-sixth, and the morning Jasmine died? Did Jasmine seem troubled by anything?”
“I spoke with her that Sunday morning and she didn’t sound bothered by anything, and I didn’t see Gabrielle at all that week; just spoke on the phone with her after the murder.”
Had Gabrielle been on the mainland when Jasmine died? The implication was too awful to raise. “I understand that Jasmine was thinking about moving to Parksville.”
“Yes, during that last phone call on Sunday, she asked me what I thought of the idea. I told her I loved it and invited her and Jeremy to live with me. She certainly sounded appreciative, but there was Noel, and she’d been building friendships with a couple of coworkers she was very fond of.”
“Do you know their names?”
“One is foreign . . . Roberto, I think. Anyhow, I intend to be Jeremy’s caregiver now. The sooner I get him away from that violent drunk and the tart he’s with, the better for my grandson. My lawyers will find out who she is.” Hannah stood awkwardly and opened the French doors. The scent of gardenias wafted into the room. “Gabrielle won’t know any of this until Jeremy’s in my house and the locks are changed.”
“She’s that difficult?”
Hannah studied a palm tree near her door before turning back to Casey. “Please understand, I do love my daughter, and she was helpful after my stroke, but I’m well aware of her dark side. I’ve rescued Gabrielle from destructive relationships, supported her after she was fired once, even bailed her out of jail for marijuana possession, but she’ll soon learn that the free ride’s over. Jeremy needs me now.”
Casey couldn’t tell who was more manipulative, Gabrielle or her mother.
“You look disconcerted, my dear,” Hannah remarked. “I’ve learned the hard way that it’s crucial to learn to protect what’s yours before others take it away.” Her expression became solemn. “Jasmine had a dark side, and I’m afraid she wrote unflattering things about you.”
Casey nodded. “We started off okay, but she became distant. I never knew why.”
“Judging from her letters, she was influenced by Marie.”
Hardly a surprise. Hannah rose, walked to the night table by her bed, and lifted out a bundle of pale yellow envelopes. She gave them to Casey.
“The letters are sorted from her earliest memories to the present. I’d like you to read them all, to understand who my daughter was.”
Double crap. “On the phone, we talked about photocopying them. Would you like me to do that now and return the originals today?”
“Why don’t you deliver everything first thing tomorrow in case Gabrielle shows up, which is always in the afternoon.”
Casey placed the bundle in her bag. Man, this was going to be one long night of reading.
“If you find a clue to the killer, please let me know straight away, dear.”
There was a quick rap on the door and a young woman barged in. Casey inhaled sharply as she recognized the same face, dark braided hair, and double-D chest she’d seen in Elliott Birch’s trailer eight days ago. This time, the woman was wearing glasses and a blue silk blouse instead of a white T-shirt.
The woman glared at her. “Who the hell are you?”
“Casey Holland, and you?”
“Gabrielle!” Hannah hobbled toward her, suddenly looking like a frail old lady. “How lovely to see you again.”
Casey’s stomach lurched.
TWENTY-FOUR
“MOTHER, ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?” Gabrielle grasped Hannah’s outstretched hands. “What are you doing out of your chair?”
Casey pressed her lips together to keep from blurting something stupid, like how Birch’s lover was Gabrielle and that she’d just earned number one spot on the suspect list.
“I was feeling a bit stronger today,” Hannah answered, “and wanted to show Casey what I could do. See?”
Casey’s heart pounded, but she kept her expression impassive as Hannah hobbled toward her wheelchair. In seconds, the woman had gone from able-bodied woman to feeble stroke patient. Her shoulders had become rounded, her right hand curled and claw-like, and she leaned slightly to one side. Even her voice had reverted to the weak tone Casey had first heard on the phone.
“Is Casey a therapist?” Gabrielle asked.
“Oh dear, I’m so forgetful.” Hannah turned to Casey. “This is my daughter, Gabrielle.”
“Hi.” It was the only word she could speak under Gabrielle’s intense scrutiny.
“I thought you were too busy to come by today,” Hannah said to Gabrielle.
“I finished my work early, so they let me leave.” She helped her mother into the chair.
“Thank you. Would you get me a blanket, dear?”
Gabrielle r
eached for the mauve blanket at the end of her mother’s bed. After she’d fussed over Hannah, she turned to Casey. “If you’re not a therapist, then why are you here?”
Casey smiled at cold, cobra eyes. “I’m here because of Jasmine and her son.” She loved the way Gabrielle’s belligerent face became apprehensive.
“How did you know Jasmine?” Gabrielle asked.
“We worked at the same place.”
Those cobra eyes didn’t blink. “So, you just popped over to Parksville to chat with my mother?”
“I invited her here,” Hannah said.
Gabrielle gaped at her mother. “You don’t know this person.”
“I knew they’d worked together, and I wanted to know more about Jasmine’s life.” Hannah adjusted her blanket. “Casey’s been terribly helpful. I can put this whole ordeal behind me now.”
Man, this woman deserved an Oscar. “I should get going.” Casey headed for the door. “Nice to meet you, Hannah.”
“Thanks so much for coming by,” Hannah said.
“Are you going back to Vancouver right away?” Gabrielle asked.
Casey heard the tension. “Soon.” She opened the door and gazed at the O’Reilly women. “It’s a shame Jasmine didn’t grow up in your family. I think she would have fit right in.”
She rushed down the corridor, eager to put some distance between herself and a possible killer. When had Gabrielle hooked up with Birch to destroy Jasmine? If she’d known about them, surely she would have told someone, unless Jasmine had learned the truth just before she was killed. Was this the reason she’d been so irritable those last couple of days? In the lobby, Casey glanced over her shoulder. No sign of Gabrielle. Outside, she ran to her car, tempted to catch a ferry right away. Still, she’d promised to photocopy the letters and return them before she left town. Hannah needed to know about Gabrielle and Birch as well.
How would she take the news? A lot of moms would deny the truth; maybe lash out at the messenger. Hannah was hard to predict, though. She claimed to know Gabrielle’s darker side, but could she see her own daughter as a murder suspect? Would Hannah demand the letters back and tell Casey to get lost?
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