The Opposite of Dark (11 page)

“When was this?”

“About six months before he died, maybe longer.” Vincent gazed into his mug. “I tried to convince Marcus to give up importing and return to architecture, but he brushed me off, said he'd sort things out.”

Casey squirmed in the chair. She didn't like what she was hearing. “Vincent, how is my mother involved in all this?”

Vincent blinked at her a couple of times. “Have you been in touch with Lillian?”

“I emailed her and then she phoned me back. To hear Mother's voice after all these years was surreal and awkward. When I told her about Ziegler she kind of freaked out and said I should leave town immediately. She asked me to meet her in Paris and she'd explain everything. She also said she knew about the import business, but wouldn't say how until I saw her in person.” Casey watched him. “What I'm looking for, Vincent, is a heads-up about what's really going on.”

Vincent sipped his coffee slowly. “Why Paris?”

“Probably because it's one of two places Dad apparently went to most, at least that's where the postcards and occasional phone call came from. Anyway, I want to talk to medical staff who'd tried to help him, and Mother's already planned a visit with friends there.”

“When are you leaving?”

“As soon as the travel agent can book a flight to England, which is my first stop. That reminds me, do you know a man named Daphne Reid?”

“He was one of Marcus's regular clients.”

“I spoke with him last night. He knew about the murder because the police had contacted him, but he played dumb with them because he didn't want to get involved, or so he said. Reid claims to have a pretty good idea about who killed Dad, but he said he wouldn't tell me more until he got something in exchange.”

Vincent nodded. “Marcus had said more than once that Reid was a bit of a weasel.”

“Dad was supposed to have delivered a pen-and-ink drawing to Reid this week, and now Reid's pissed because he has a buyer willing to pay double what
TZ
Inc. paid. I found the drawing in the West Van house, so I'm taking it to him in exchange for information.”

She'd been embarrassed to ask Lou for the drawing back, but if he was really as relieved as he'd sounded, he was fine with it. Happily, he hadn't told his mother about the drawing.

“I asked Mother if she knew Reid, and she said only by his greedy reputation.” Casey added, “But based on everything she's heard, he's not violent, just stupid.”

She didn't mention that Mother had suggested accompanying her to meet Reid, but Casey wasn't ready to deal with both of them at once. She still wasn't sure she wanted to see Mother after all this time, especially when Mother had been so evasive about her reason for being in Geneva and about what she knew about
TZ
Inc.

“So, Vincent, what's the deal with Mother? Is she somehow involved in the import business? After all, she knows Ziegler.”

Vincent's expression was about as cheerful as the Gregorian chant. “Wouldn't it be better if she told you herself?”

“Mother exceled at leaving out key bits of info, and obviously, she's still at it. But she's family, Vincent. If Dad was murdered because of the import/export thing and Mother's involved, couldn't she be in danger too? Maybe that's why she left town right after the murder. So, please tell me everything you know.”

Vincent stared off into space. “When you were little, Lillian was our record keeper. The firm was struggling, so she brought in extra money by helping clients furnish the homes Marcus designed.” A flicker of blue drew his eye to the tank beside her. “Lillian had a talent for interior design and for finding the right art and fabrics, and for networking, which was how she met Theo Ziegler. Ziegler put Lillian in touch with people who could supply whatever she needed. He also helped eliminate red tape.”

“When did she meet him?”

Vincent shifted in his chair. “About twenty years ago.”

Casey put her coffee down and sat forward. “Twenty years?”

Vincent nodded. “When Ziegler's business grew, he hired your mother to deliver goods, pick up checks, that sort of thing. Ziegler's business kept growing while Marcus's firm went further into debt, so Lillian got him some courier work. It was supposed to be temporary, but the more Marcus learned about the business, the more fascinated he became. Then five years ago, Ziegler offered him a partnership.”

“So you ran the firm while Dad played importer? And was Mother a courier all that time?” Casey shook her head.

“Yes, but she also established her own personnel business. After the divorce your parents rarely saw each other.”

“I tried calling Dad's lawyer to see who legally owns the West Vancouver house and contents now, but he's not listed in the phone book.”

“The man was this firm's lawyer, too, and he died months ago.” Vincent watched the skink. “Marcus's will was drawn up five years before the botulism tragedy. Maybe he never had it changed, which means you'll inherit everything.” He shook his head and stood, wincing slightly. “I didn't know Marcus had left the business to me until the lawyer called.”

“Dad wouldn't have given the firm to someone he didn't trust.” Casey followed him to the other end of the room and watched him ease into a chair behind the desk. She wandered past the desk toward the cages beneath the picture window. “Aside from Paris and Geneva, it seems that Dad also spent a fair amount of time in Amsterdam. Does the name Gislinde Van Akker mean anything to you? I have an address for this person, but no other information.”

“It could be a client, but I don't really recall.”

It took a moment before Casey realized she was gazing at a boa constrictor coiled against the glass. She jumped back.

“None of them are venomous,” Vincent said, and smiled.

“Good,” but hardly comforting. She sought refuge in the chair in front of his desk. “Did you ever hear the name Gustaf Osterman?”

“Lillian mentioned him a couple of times. I remember her referring to him as the chameleon, though I don't know why.”

“What else did she say about him?”

“Nothing, really. But her eyes shone whenever she mentioned him, like she was in love.”

Casey doubted it. Mother hadn't loved any of her conquests. Casey had told Mother that she'd hoped to find Osterman in Paris, but all Mother said was that they'd talk later.

“Did the police ask you for a list of Dad's contacts and clients?”

“They came and took Marcus's Rolodex and all the old ledgers we kept on
TZ
Inc.”

“I imagine they would.” Casey stood and retrieved her jacket. “If I learn anything useful, I'll let you know.”

“All I really want to know is why Marcus faked his death and went underground,” Vincent said.

“You and me both.” She stopped at the door, “If Dad had come back to reclaim his old life, what would have happened?”

“I don't know.” Vincent looked at her. “But I'm too busy and too tired to lose sleep over it.”

Maybe it was the creepy reptiles. Maybe it was the disturbing chants or simply the lighting, but she thought Vincent's eyes had adopted a cold-blooded stare and his complexion turned a pale shade of green. Casey hurried out of the room.

CASEY STUDIED THE
half-filled suitcase on her bed. She was thinking about what else to bring when a knock on the door broke her concentration. Before she could move, Rhonda was marching toward her bedroom. Lately, she'd been entering Casey's suite uninvited, as if Dad's murder had somehow granted her the right. Casey wanted to remind her that, technically, she was a tenant, not family, but that line had been crossed long ago. Even family members had a right to privacy, though.

“Summer's upset about your trip,” Rhonda said.

“Why? She knows I'll only be gone two weeks.”

“Marcus went to Europe and didn't come back. Summer sees it as a place where bad things can happen.”

Hard to argue the point, since Casey had her own doubts about leaving. Dad's life had been all about secrets. If he'd died because of those secrets, her questions could cause big trouble. And as for trepidation about seeing Mother again after all these years, lord, she didn't even know how to express it. She hadn't told Rhonda they'd be meeting and she hadn't discussed Rhonda with Mother; didn't want to go there when there were more urgent questions on her mind.

“I still don't understand why you have to trek all over Europe looking for answers,” Rhonda said.

“It's just three or four places over a two-week period. I'll be home before you know it.”

“Hasn't your passport expired? You've had it a while, right?”

“Only three and a half years, from when I planned to join Dad in Amsterdam the Christmas before he die—disappeared, remember?”

Rhonda nodded. “What does your supervisor say about all this?”

“He's okay with it because Marie can cover for me. Besides, I did a little investigating and figured out what high school the purse thief probably attends, so Stan's happy.”

“Are you sure the thief's a student?”

“Yep. I compiled a chart that showed the times he strikes, and the pattern definitely fits someone who has to be in class by eight thirty-five, takes lunch between twelve and one, and is out by three.”

The kid was becoming more predictable all the time. As much as Casey wanted to bust the kid herself, Marie hadn't made many arrests lately and deserved a chance. Of course, if she succeeded, everyone at Mainland would hear about it for weeks. Still, it couldn't be helped. When it came to family history research, no one was going to do this for Casey, and the sooner she pursued leads before they vanished, the sooner she'd have answers.

“Do you want me to talk to Summer?” Casey asked.

“That would be good. And have you returned Lalonde's call yet? Does he know you're going away?”

“No on both counts, but I'll contact him once I'm there,” especially if Daphne Reid had useful information about the killer's identity.

“Mom?” Summer called from the doorway. “Someone's on the phone for you.”

“Be right there.” She turned to Casey. “Call every two or three days or I won't be able to sleep, okay?”

“I'll try, I promise.”

Rhonda left as Summer entered the room.

“How's the new bicycle tire?”

“Great, Darcy and I went riding yesterday. It was fun.”

“Oh? I didn't see you guys go out.”

“It was after supper. You and Lou had already left for the hockey game.”

In the few days he'd been living here, Darcy had hovered around Summer and Rhonda a lot. He'd also come up here uninvited to chat a few times, which had gotten irritating so she'd cut their conversations short.

Casey shoved her underwear in the suitcase. “I gather his knee's healed?”

“Uh-huh. He's coming to swim practice with us tonight.”

Man, didn't this guy have a life?

“What's wrong?” Summer asked. “You look kind of weird.”

“I'm just a bit nervous about my trip. Which reminds me, your mom says you're upset that I'm going.”

“No, I'm not, she is. I mean, it's not like you'll be gone a long time.” Summer picked up a folded T-shirt. “You wanna go?”

“Yes and no. I'll miss you guys.”

She gave Summer a hug, then fetched the blue notebook, tossing the loose slip of paper containing the doodles and Marine Drive address in a drawer. She'd already given Rhonda a copy of contact info for the few people she'd managed to get in touch with.

“Hello? Anyone home?” Darcy's raspy voice called out.

Too bad Rhonda had become more adept at opening doors than closing them.

“We're in here,” Summer called back.

As Darcy entered the bedroom, he winked at Summer then turned to Casey. “Sorry to interrupt, but I just wanted to say bye before you left.”

Rhonda thought his raspy voice sounded seductive. Casey couldn't stand it. “Thanks.”

“I'll pack some peanut-butter cookies for you,” Summer said.

“That'd be awesome. And if I don't get a chance to say this later, look after your mom, okay? I know you'll do a good job.”

Summer grinned. “Three more months till I get a puppy.”

When Rhonda came down with the flu last December, Summer did a lot of cooking and cleaning. Rhonda had said if she was still acting responsibly by her birthday, she could have a dog.

After Summer left, Darcy said, “Rhonda really depends on you, doesn't she?”

“We've known each other a long time.”

“I think all this family stuff you've been going through is getting to her. She talks about your mother a lot, claims the lady came from a family of greedy criminals.”

Crap, why had Rhonda brought that up? Casey stuffed socks into corners of the suitcase.