“Noel’s lawyer found out.” Marie crossed her arms. “Maybe you should ask your source why he made up that shit about an engagement.”
Casey smacked her hands on the desk. “How many times do I have to tell you that I’m done investigating?” Her voice rose. “I’m going to email everyone and post a copy on the bulletin board. Should I pin one to your shirt so you’ll remember?”
A giggle came from the end of the room.
The cherry patches on Marie’s cheeks darkened. “You think Noel’s guilty, don’t you?”
“I don’t know what to think.”
Marie was a master at manipulation and generating sympathy. Everyone at work took her side after each of her three divorces, believing what she’d said about being victimized by “vindictive” men. No one had heard the ex-husbands’ stories.
“I know about your altercation with Eisler yesterday,” Marie said. “Did you check his alibi?”
“What about Eisler’s alibi?” Stan said as he stepped out of his office.
“I’m trying to convince Marie that I’m not investigating Jasmine’s murder anymore because of what happened last night.”
“Anymore?” Stan put his hands on his hips.
“Could we talk privately?” Casey asked.
“Sure.”
Ignoring Marie’s scowl, she marched into Stan’s office and shut the door. Too edgy to sit, Casey paced the room. How much should she tell him? He wouldn’t be pleased to hear that she’d been interviewing people and lurking outside Birch’s home. Stan had worked hard to earn the co-operation of police departments throughout the Lower Mainland. He wouldn’t want his team interfering with a murder investigation.
“I got an anonymous call yesterday, warning me to stop investigating, or Summer would die.”
Stan recoiled. “Is Summer okay? Where is she?”
“At school. I’m picking her up and taking her to Lou’s mom’s tonight. Barb’s offered to let Summer stay there as long as she needs to. They’ve got a security system and a rottweiler, and two of Lou’s buff younger brothers still live at home.”
“Did you tell Corporal Lundy about the threat?”
“Yes.” He’d lectured her about the danger of meddling in police business. “Please don’t tell anyone, including Marie, where Summer is.”
“Okay, but it sounds like you’ve worried the killer, so exactly how much snooping have you been up to?”
Casey highlighted the interviews with people on Birch’s mail route and her talk with Noel. When she reached the part about visiting Birch’s trailer, Stan whistled and scratched his beard. She stopped the story there.
“Why was Marie asking about Eisler’s alibi?” he asked.
“If I tell you, you could wind up in an awkward position.”
“Tell me anyway.”
Casey gripped the back of the wooden chair. “It seems that no one knows where Eisler was the morning Jasmine died. He also came to my house on Sunday and asked where Jasmine’s grave was.”
Stan leaned forward. “You’re joking.”
“No. He said he wanted to send flowers, but since Marie and Lou were with me, that’s all he said, though I wonder if he wanted to say more.” She watched Stan push his keyboard away and rest his elbows on the desk. “The night before Jasmine died, Eisler asked her out for a drink, which she refused. Apparently, that wasn’t the first time he’d called her.”
“Can you back this up?”
“Roberto de Luca can. She told him about Eisler’s last call that night, and Wesley told me about other calls he’d made.”
“Rude Wesley Axelson?”
“He and Jasmine were friends.”
“Eisler, huh?” Stan blew out a big breath of air. “Married and on the executive team. How stupid is that?”
“I’ve heard that he’s taken to disappearing without telling anyone where he’s going.” Casey paused. “Yesterday he overheard me talking to Roberto about the murder and basically ordered me to shut up about it.”
Stan’s gaze drifted to the bonsai on his desk. Casey could almost see his mind thinking things through. She turned to the window and watched buses coming and going in the depot. Above the garage, someone had painted over the “Remember Jasmine” sign, as if memories could be so easily banished.
“Let me ask you something,” Stan said. “Do you think Marie’s brother is innocent?”
“I have no idea.” Casey glanced at the door. “But as long as the murder’s unsolved, this isn’t a fun place to work.”
“You got that right. I’ll see if I can find out where perma-tan man was that morning, but this is strictly for my own peace of mind.”
“Absolutely, and thanks.”
“Just take care of Summer and pray the killer’s found fast.”
“I will.” She stood. “By the way, would you like one of Jasmine’s gerbils, hamsters, or guinea pigs?”
He gave her a brief smile. “I’ll ask my wife.”
“Thanks.” Casey stepped outside.
She’d barely made it back to her desk before Marie said, “I’ve been thinking.”
“Please don’t.”
“The shooter wore a ball cap and sunglasses,” Marie went on. “It could have been a woman. If you made inquiries about Gabrielle’s abili, no one would know.”
Why wouldn’t this idiot listen?
“So could you or Noel’s lawyer.”
“I’ve told you before, the lawyer costs too much.” Marie scribbled something on a piece of paper. “Gabrielle knows my name and voice, but you could talk to her. Give a false name and make up a story to find out where she was when Jasmine was shot.”
She placed the paper next to Casey’s keyboard. “Here’s the landlord’s number. You met Paval when we collected her pets. He has Gabrielle’s home number.”
“Why would he have it?”
“After Jasmine died, he thought he should break the news to Hannah, so he got her number through directory assistance, and Gabrielle answered the phone. It turns out Hannah’s still recovering from her stroke at some rehab facility. Gabrielle barely cared that her half sister had died, which is all the more reason to check her out.”
“You just don’t listen, do you?” Casey began working on her timesheet.
“Just this one last thing, Casey, and then I promise to make sure everyone knows you’re done helping us.”
Bloody unbelievable. “What if Gabrielle’s the killer, Marie? How will that protect Summer?”
Marie’s mouth twitched. “Don’t talk to her directly. Ask someone she works with.”
“Where does she work?”
“I don’t know if she even has a job. I just assume she does.”
Tension shot across Casey’s sore shoulders and her goose egg throbbed.
“Please, Casey,” she mumbled. “Where’s the justice for Noel and Jasmine?”
Admittedly, she was curious about Gabrielle’s alibi, yet she had to think about Summer. Casey looked beyond the plants. Human resources personnel had returned from lunch and everyone at the end of the room was still unusually quiet.
“Can I ask you something?” Casey kept her voice low. “And I want the truth.”
“What?”
“Can Noel walk with crutches or any other device?”
“He’s never had any interest in trying, I swear.”
Judging from Marie’s downcast eyes and the resignation in her voice, she seemed sincere. So, how could Noel have pulled himself up, retrieved two pistols and a rifle from a high shelf in Wesley’s closet, and then carried them to his van without help?
“Is there more evidence against Noel you didn’t tell me about?”
“I told you everything and, like I said, it’s all circumstantial. The stolen van, the gun found near his property. Everything.”
Again, Casey thought of the threat. “Sorry, but I have to think of Summer, and you, above all people, should understand that.”