Deadly Accusations

by Debra Purdy Kong

  “Is that what she called it?”

  “No, but she didn’t use the word love either. Here she says, ‘He’s the coolest, friendliest, most fun guy I’ve ever gone out with.’”

  “Sounds like something a teenager would say.”

  “Part of her was naïve and immature.” The other part was sarcastic, critical, and just plain mean. Casey scanned another sheet. “She trashes a couple of tenants and parishioners over petty issues, and does the same to some Mainland staff.”

  “Which ones?”

  “Me and a few administrative staff, all of them women. I think she saw them as competition, especially where Roberto was concerned.”

  “Hannah asked you to read the letters despite what Jasmine wrote?”

  “She’s more shrewd and open-minded than her daughter was.” Casey continued reading. “Jasmine apologizes to her mother for venting, then writes ‘You’re the only one I can talk to.’” Casey paused. “She must have been lonely.”

  Lou nodded. “And insecure.”

  “Jasmine’s disputes and complaints didn’t seem serious enough for someone to want to kill her. Unless something else was going on, something she didn’t want Hannah to know.”

  “Did she write about Eisler?”

  “Yeah, she said he was an annoying jerk who wasn’t getting enough at home.” Casey scanned more lines. “She tried searching the Gallenskis’ bedroom for her pendant when she picked up Jeremy one afternoon.” Casey turned to Lou. “When Marie and I went to Jasmine’s apartment, I saw a red feather boa hanging in her bedroom closet. Ursula was wearing a red boa when we met her at the Silver Groove.”

  “She could have owned one as well.”

  “Or stolen Jasmine’s.” Casey returned to the letter. “Jasmine had planned to keep searching for her jewelry. Oh, and she hated Ursula. Said she was nothing but a cheap tramp . . . Whoa. Here’s something: she says that both Gallenskis have stepped over the line and that she’d phone Hannah about it later.” Casey looked up. “Hannah’s last chat with her was Sunday morning, but Hannah said that Jasmine hadn’t seemed especially bothered by anything.”

  “Maybe Jasmine had decided not to worry her.”

  “Or something happened after that call.” Casey noticed the date at the top of the page. “She wrote this Monday, the day after her confrontation with Gabrielle. Must have mailed it right away. Interesting that she never mentioned Gabrielle’s visit.”

  “Like I said, she didn’t want to upset her mother.”

  “Maybe. So, what if Jasmine told Paval about the theft and he didn’t believe her?” She watched the Queen of Coquitlam dock. “Maybe Paval was doing a little snooping and stealing himself. The Gallenskis have a master key to every apartment and Paval seems unnecessarily friendly with tenants.”

  “It’s possible, I guess; though it could all be Ursula’s doing. Maybe Jasmine didn’t actually say anything to Paval, but confronted Ursula instead. Ursula might have been worried about losing her husband and going to jail.”

  “If a tenant had accused either Gallenski of theft, Paval could have lost his job.” Casey folded the letter. “Paval would have known Jasmine’s schedule because he babysat Jeremy, which means Ursula could have found out from him, or she could have just followed Jasmine to the church that morning.”

  “What about your work schedule?” Lou asked. “How would she have heard about it?”

  “By calling the office and posing as a friend. Witnesses said the shooter was a man, though.” Casey watched people return to their vehicles. “I can’t picture Paval doing that, but I can picture Ursula hiring someone to take a shot at me.”

  “Wouldn’t the cops have checked everyone’s alibi in the building?”

  “They would have asked most of them where they were that morning, but I doubt there were enough officers to follow up on every alibi unless they had a good reason to.”

  “I’m thinking the Gallenskis should move up on your suspect list.”

  “Definitely.” Casey glanced at cars driving down the ramp from the ferry’s upper parking level. “If Jasmine complained about Ursula to Paval, he might have threatened to evict her. Maybe that’s what prompted her decision to move.” Casey’s eyes widened. “The photographs!”

  “What?”

  “The ones I found in Jasmine’s locker of her sleeping, and Jeremy in the tub.” She looked at Lou. “What if Paval or Ursula took them?”

  “Why would they do that, unless they were kinky?”

  “Maybe they are. The guy spends his days babysitting and pet-sitting for tenants, and he talks about them like they were family. It’s a bit strange.”

  “Not if it means extra income. Apartment managers don’t make much, and he has a baby on the way.”

  “Somebody should interview the tenants,” Casey said. “See if they’ve had photos snapped or items missing from their suites.”

  “Give the cops the letters; let them figure it out.”

  She opened her mouth to say something but stopped. Things were good between them again. Why jeopardize that? Still, the answers were close. She could feel it.

  “Thanks for riding back with me.” Casey placed her hand over his. “Your company’s made the trip so much fun.”

  “Thank my sister for teaching over here and offering to drive my truck back this weekend.” Lou stared past Casey. “Shit, is that who I think it is?”

  Casey turned and spotted Gabrielle walking through the lanes of cars. “Oh, my god.”

  Gabrielle stopped at a vehicle three lanes away and one car ahead of theirs.

  “Holy crap, she drives a small silver car.” Casey stuffed the letters in her purse. “I wonder if that’s the vehicle Corporal Lundy’s been looking for. We need to get the plate number.”

  “Why is she heading for the mainland on a Thursday afternoon? Didn’t you say she was a secretary?”

  “Yep. Last night’s chat probably freaked her out, which means we’re going to be riding with a murder suspect.” She retrieved her cell phone. “I need to make sure Summer’s okay.”

  “Tell Mom to watch for Birch’s brown Dodge Dart. Maybe she can get my brothers to check out the neighborhood.”

  Casey listened to the phone ring. No one was picking up.

  TWENTY-SIX

  THE MOMENT CASEY SPOTTED WINIFRED’S Buick at the back of Rhonda’s house, tension shot through her shoulders and knotted her stomach. Why was the old bat still here? She parked next to the Buick. After yesterday’s chat with Gabrielle, the last thing she needed was another confrontation. Still, Casey had told Winifred to leave and she bloody well meant it.

  She yanked her overnight bag out of the trunk, wishing Lou hadn’t had to return to work right away. After dropping him off at Mainland, she’d rushed over to Barb’s to see if everything was okay. It turned out that Summer and Barb had left for school early to grab breakfast at McDonald’s, and Barb had forgotten to bring her cell phone, which was why Casey’s call hadn’t been answered.

  Casey trudged up the steps to the kitchen door, skirting a bag of garbage on the top step. It wasn’t like Winifred to leave garbage sitting around. Inside, the kitchen was spotless. The coffee maker hadn’t been turned on. The house was silent. Maybe Winifred had gone for a walk or was taking a nap. Maybe she was hiding in a closet waiting to ambush her with legal documents.

  Casey started down the hall toward the front of the house. She peeked in the living room. No Winifred. She started up the staircase and listened for signs of life. At the second floor landing, she glimpsed the two closed bedroom doors at the front of the house. Summer’s room was on the left. Winifred was using Rhonda’s room on the right. Casey turned around. All was quiet from the two tenants’ rooms.

  Reluctant to face Winifred, Casey hurried upstairs and into her apartment. A chorus of whistling guinea pigs greeted her. Tiny paws pressed against the bars as the guinea pigs stood on hind legs, while hamsters and gerbils scampered back and forth.

  “Hey, kids.” She
glanced at her blinking message light. She would have preferred to listen to the messages right away, but until the critters settled down, she wouldn’t be able to hear anything.

  Casey fetched the veggies and then refilled pellet dishes and water bottles. She picked up Ralphie and let him nibble the carrot in her hand. He grasped the carrot while his mouth worked at breakneck speed. For a rodent, he was awfully cute.

  The telephone rang. Casey answered and heard Marie say, “Good, you’re back.”

  Anger surged through her as she thought of Jasmine’s letters and the bull Marie had told her.

  “First, Stan wants you on the M6 with Wesley tonight and tomorrow night. He’ll call you about it, but I thought I’d give you a heads up.”

  Casey sat down and placed Ralphie on her lap. “I thought I was off that assignment for safety reasons.”

  “Yeah, well, Eisler received a note from that rock-throwing nut yesterday.”

  “Really? What’d he say?”

  “That he didn’t shoot at the bus, but that he wouldn’t stop throwing rocks until Mainland shaped up, whatever that means. Anyway, I can’t work nights because I need to go see my kids, so Stan’s putting you back on.”

  Casey stopped stroking Ralphie. If the rockhound knew about the shooting, had he been there when it happened? She hadn’t seen or heard anything in the media about the incident. She recalled the people she’d seen: the three guys who’d been walking by when the shot was fired, and the old man with the long beard and hoodie pulled low over his forehead.

  “What happened in Parksville?” Marie asked. “Did you meet Hannah?”

  No point in denying she went. Marie wasn’t stupid. “You didn’t tell anyone I was going, did you?”

  “No one at work knows, and Noel’s discreet.”

  Casey sighed. The stupid woman had told the police’s prime suspect.

  “Did you read Jasmine’s letters?” Marie asked.

  “Yes, and I read some of them to Lou too. He came over and spent the night. Wasn’t that sweet?” She’d feel ashamed for rubbing Marie’s nose in it tomorrow, but right now revenge was sweet. “It turns out that Parksville’s a great place for hot sex.”

  “We were talking about letters.” Her voice was sharp. “Stay on topic, Casey.”

  “I am; Jasmine wrote about you.” She gripped the receiver. “You told her I stole Lou from you. You also told her I was Stan’s favorite and got the best assignments. How could you lie like that, Marie? What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “She must have misinterpreted—”

  “Stop it! You were playing her and that’s not only disgusting but selfish.” Casey returned Ralphie to his cage. “Get this straight: Lou’s with me and we’re staying together because that’s what we both want.”

  “Not even you can predict the future. You thought your marriage would last forever and look what happened. Everyone knows you’re not anxious to try that again.”

  “I don’t recall discussing marriage with you or anyone else at work.” Rhonda and Lou were the only ones who knew about her insecurity. “If Lou wanted to be with you he wouldn’t have gone all the way to Parksville to tell me that he loves me.”

  “I didn’t call to talk about Lou, for shit’s sake. I thought you’d want to know that Paval found a new tenant for Jasmine’s place, and he’s been selling her stuff cheap.”

  “Is that legal?”

  “Hannah gave him permission to get rid of the furniture. She’s already had someone pick up photo albums and other personal stuff. Anyway, I remember you liked her footstool with the sunflowers, but you’ll have to collect it today. Whatever’s left goes to charity first thing tomorrow.”

  “Making money off her death’s a bit cold, isn’t it?”

  “That’s what I told Ursula. She said Jasmine owed them a week’s worth of babysitting so it balances out, but yeah, it’s beyond tacky.” Marie hung up.

  Casey wondered if the footstool was still available. Should she go out there? It was nearly one o’clock. And she needed to catch up on homework. Besides, Ursula was a suspect. Getting close to her again wouldn’t be smart. On the other hand, she’d sure like to know if the Gallenskis had crossed the line with other tenants. If she could talk to some of them . . .

  Casey watched the animals munch their food and thought again about Jasmine’s letters. When it came to wanting something or solving problems, Jasmine had been a take-charge person. When her parents died and the rest of the family disowned her, she moved on. Got a job, left an abusive marriage, and sought her biological mother. She’d taken charge of her life, made plans.

  Casey remembered when she used to be like that, and she knew that passivity crept in the day she started parenting a grieving, angry teenager. She’d spent the past four months tiptoeing around, hoping Summer would learn to deal with Rhonda’s absence, but clearly she hadn’t. Time to face reality, regain control of her life. Marie had been a good start. Winifred’s turn next.

  Casey marched out of her apartment and jogged down to the second floor. She rapped on Winifred’s door. “Winifred, it’s Casey. I want to talk to you.”

  No answer. Casey pressed her ear against the door and listened. She heard a noise. “I’m not leaving until we talk, so you might as well open the door.” She crossed her arms and counted to ten. “That’s it, I’m coming in.”

  She turned the handle. The door was unlocked. Casey stepped inside the darkened room and gasped when she saw Winifred on the floor, beside the bed. Blood covered some of her face and one eye was swollen shut. Oh god, how long had she been here? Bending closer, Casey felt Winifred’s breath on her cheek. Casey checked her pulse. It was there, but not that strong.

  “Winifred, can you hear me?”

  “Mmm.”

  “Can you breathe okay?”

  “Hurts.”

  “What happened?”

  Winifred moaned. Her swollen eyelid twitched. “Attacked.”

  “Did you see the person?”

  “No.”

  “Can I check to see where you’re injured? I have first aid.”

  “No.”

  “I’ll call 911.” Casey yanked the comforter off the bed, draped it over Winifred, and then called for help on her cell. She tried to answer the dispatcher’s questions, but knew too little to be of much use. “Winifred, do you know how long ago this happened?”

  “No.”

  “The suspect could still be nearby,” Casey said to the dispatcher. “Send the police right away.” She turned to Winifred. “Winifred, did you see any part of your attacker, like clothing, hair, a tattoo? Anything that could describe him?”

  “Dark clothes . . . hat.”

  “A wide-brimmed hat?”

  “Mmm.”

  “Brown?”

  Winifred groaned.

  Nausea roiled in Casey’s stomach as she repeated Winifred’s description to the dispatcher. She spotted closed suitcases in front of the bed, an unopened purse on top of them. Winifred must have been preparing to move out when she was attacked. Since Summer wasn’t here, the killer must have carried out his threat on the next available victim.

  “Winifred, you’ve got a gash on your cheek. Do you want me to wash it out and get some disinfectant?”

  “No.”

  Aside from Marie and Noel, the only other suspects who knew she’d gone to Parksville were Gabrielle and possibly Birch. Gabrielle probably told Birch everything that had happened over there, and hitting women wasn’t new to him.

  Panic shot through Casey. Was he still in the house? Winifred moaned again. Casey swallowed back her fear while she stared at the open bedroom door. Her gaze darted to the closed closet door. She held her breath and listened for sounds, but the pounding in her ears made it tough to hear anything.

  “Casey?” Winifred squinted at her.

  “I’m here.”

  “Your fault,” she mumbled.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  RUSH HOUR HAD BEGUN AS Casey drove east toward C
oquitlam, but she didn’t mind the slowing traffic. She needed to think before she met the Gallenskis. She called them twenty minutes ago to see if the sunflower footstool was still available. Ursula warned her that she’d only hold it for an hour. Casey wasn’t thrilled to see Ursula again, but staying alone in the house was worse. Winifred’s assailant was out there somewhere, probably waiting for her or Summer.

  The paramedics thought some of Winifred’s ribs might be broken. They’d also found large dark bruises on her lower back, where she could have been kicked. Casey told the police that Elliott Birch could resort to something that vile and suggested they contact Corporal Lundy about him.

  Explaining things to Summer had been tougher. When she heard about Winifred, she cried. She’d wanted to visit Winifred at the hospital, but with a killer running loose Casey had said no.

  “I can take care of myself,” Summer had insisted. “And Lou and Barb and you can protect me. Don’t hospitals have security anyway?”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  And on it went until Casey cut things short by saying she needed to call Rhonda. When she heard about Winifred, Rhonda said, “What kind of coward would attack an old woman, and why on God’s earth was Mother still at the house? What if the psycho’s waiting to get Summer?”

  Rhonda had then demanded Barb’s number so she could tell Summer to stay away from the hospital. She’d also decided to take a more active role in parenting her daughter. Casey’s job was to simply ensure that Rhonda’s rules were followed. Her diminished role as guardian made her feel incompetent.

  She pulled up in front of the Gallenskis’ apartment building and scanned the street for Gabrielle’s Jetta or Birch’s Dodge Dart. What if she’d missed something in the rearview mirror? By the time Casey shut off the engine, her body was so tense that a tap on the shoulder would catapult her through the front entrance. She needed gum. Chewing would at least unclench her jaw. She popped a piece in her mouth, stepped out of the car, and jogged up to the door. The sound of Ursula’s voice over the intercom already annoyed her.