“Does this mean you’ll still help him?”
“I’ve been debating that all weekend.” She returned to the window seat. “Marie said that since the killer thinks I’m investigating, I might as well keep going. Maybe she has a point. The sooner we get this psycho, the safer Summer will be.”
“I don’t know about that.”
When Lou disappeared behind the fridge door, Casey sighed. Whenever he didn’t like what he was hearing, he kept busy. “For a few moments today, I wondered if Marie was the killer, seeing as how she had the ball cap and glasses at the time Jasmine was killed, but I can’t see her arranging for someone to shoot a bullet into her son’s room.”
“You’re right, she wouldn’t.”
“Still, I’m not sure she and Jasmine were as close as Marie wanted people to think. I mean, both Noel and Wesley knew stuff about Jasmine that she didn’t.”
Lou closed the door and wandered toward her. “I’ve been working up the courage to ask you something. It’s why I came over.” Trepidation clouded his face. “Part of me thinks I’m making something out of nothing, but then . . .” He looked away.
Lou’s discomfort was making her edgy. “What do you want to know?”
He cleared his throat. “Is Noel Merryweather as interested in you as Marie said?”
So that was it. In the four months they’d been a couple, Lou had never shown insecurity or jealousy, but then she’d never been physically attracted to another man during that time either. He had seemed a little distant on the M10 today. Casey had noticed that he’d kept looking at her, but not in a happy-you’re-with-me way. More in a I’m-not-sure-about-you way.
“Noel hasn’t asked me out or anything, but if he did, I’d say no.” He didn’t look convinced. “You realize Marie’s trying to use her brother to come between us, don’t you?”
“Kind of, yeah.” Lou gripped her hands. “You know she and I will never happen, right?”
“Yes. Noel and I will never happen, either.”
“Are you sure?”
“Totally.” Again she saw the doubt. “This isn’t like you.”
“It’s just that you sound kind of funny whenever you mention his name.”
“I do?”
“It’s subtle, but it’s there.”
She’d had no idea. “If I sound funny, it’s mainly because he’s part of something you didn’t want me involved with.”
“You said mainly.” He paused. “What’s the other part?”
“Well, he is a charismatic, good-looking guy.”
“Then you’re attracted to him?”
If she lied, he’d probably sense it. “Physically, yeah, a bit; but not emotionally. Obviously, I don’t trust the man.”
“If you did, would that attraction become emotional?”
“Lou, you’re the one I want to be with.” She smiled when he embraced her. “I know I’m not good at saying so, but you really do mean the world to me.”
“I should have told you the same more often too, hon, especially when I’ve been so worried about us. I mean, things have been kind of weird lately. The last thing I need is competition.”
“You don’t have any.” Man, she’d never seen him so insecure. Casey closed her eyes and again rubbed her temples. She wished Marie had never introduced her to Noel.
“Can I get you something for the migraine?”
“No, I’ll take a couple of pills and rest in a minute.”
“I guess you won’t be going to bowling practice tonight?”
“Sorry, no.”
Lou watched her. “Are you sure I can’t do anything for you?”
“Yeah.”
He walked to the door and then kissed her. “Feel better, sweetheart.”
“Thanks.” She listened to him jog down the stairs until her phone rang. Casey flinched, and then hurried to pick it up before her head exploded. “Hello?”
“Is this Casey Holland?” a frail female voice asked.
“Who is this?”
“I’m Hannah O’Reilly, Jasmine Birch’s mother.”
TWENTY-ONE
HANNAH O’REILLY WAS CALLING HER? What could she possibly want?
Casey plunked into the rocking chair. “Uh, hello.”
“Have I called at a bad time?” The woman sounded uncertain. “Marie Crenshaw said I should contact you.”
“This is fine.” She’d kick Marie’s butt tomorrow. “I’m not sure why she referred you to me, though.”
“She said you’ve been looking into my daughter’s murder. The police won’t tell me much, you see.” Hannah cleared her throat. “Marie said you went to her ex-husband’s place to check on my grandson, but that you didn’t see him.”
Casey closed her eyes and massaged her forehead. She’d really let Marie have it. “I couldn’t get close to Birch’s trailer because he was home, and I only went as a favor to Marie. I’m not investiga—”
“I hear that Birch has an alibi,” Hannah interrupted, “which is troubling, given the disgusting way he treated her. She wrote me about it, in detail.”
Casey opened her eyes. “Emails?”
“Letters. I had a stroke, you see, so talking on the phone became difficult. I asked Jasmine to write down everything I missed while she was growing up. I was afraid of another stroke, and wanted to know everything about her. The experience has been, well . . .” A sob broke through Hannah’s words.
“I’m sorry,” Casey murmured. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”
“Thank you. I’d planned to have her visit, but then this stupid illness happened. I was too proud to let her see me as an old, drooling invalid, so I asked her to wait until my rehabilitation was nearly over. Jasmine was making plans to come here when . . .” Another sob.
Poor woman. Giving up a daughter, and then finding her again, only to lose her this way had to be unbearable.
“Marie also said you saw a woman with Birch in that trailer.”
Casey rested her head against the chair. “Yes.”
“About a month ago, Jasmine called and said she’d seen a woman in Birch’s car.”
“Did Jasmine recognize her, by any chance, or describe her to you?”
“No, but she did say that Birch used to flaunt his girlfriends in her face, although he didn’t this time. Anyway, I have a very special request to make, dear.”
“Oh?” She didn’t like the sound of this.
“Since you worked with Jasmine and would therefore know many of the people she mentioned in her letters, would you read them?”
“I, uh, don’t quite understand why you’d want me to.”
“If Birch truly is innocent, then someone else shot my daughter.”
Casey’s head pounded and she felt queasy. “I don’t—”
“According to the letters, Jasmine had conflicts with a few people, and one or two of them were from Mainland Public Transport.”
Casey gazed at the rodent cages in front of her bookshelf. She envied those little guys, eating, resting, and playing; no complicated decisions to make. As she headed for the bathroom, she said, “Did Jasmine mention anyone she was especially worried about?”
“No one, other than Birch.”
“Shouldn’t you give the letters to the police?”
“Marie said the RCMP suspect her brother, so why would they listen to me? And I just can’t believe Mr. Merryweather killed her. Jasmine wrote so many kind things about him.”
Presumably, Hannah hadn’t heard about the returned engagement ring. Hadn’t it occurred to her that Jasmine had only written what she’d wanted her mother to know and that her viewpoint might be biased?
“Mrs. O’Reilly, Noel told me that he and Jasmine argued the night before she was killed. You see, he proposed to her and she turned him down.”
The line was silent a few moments. “I still don’t believe he shot her,” Hannah replied. “Birch wanted custody of Jeremy and now he has it. This is what matters. Has anyone considered the possibility that his mystery girlfriend shot my daughter? Even if I’m wrong, some other clue could be in those letters.”