“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 placed 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.”