The Opposite of Dark (9 page)

“I didn't know about any import sideline,” Rhonda said, scanning the book. “Almost none of these names are familiar.”

“What about Theo Ziegler on the last page?” When she and Lalonde were talking about him at Dad's house, Rhonda had wandered off and hadn't heard his name mentioned.

“No idea,” Rhonda replied, staring at the name.

“While I was on the ferry, I tried calling the handful of Canadian and American phone numbers in the book, but the numbers were either out of service or the person I wanted had changed companies. I'll try emailing people later.” She'd also see if Ziegler's name popped up on the Internet.

“The notebook's old and could be a gigantic waste of time. Besides, isn't fact finding Lalonde's job?”

“This is family history research, not a murder investigation.”

Rhonda sat on the sofa. “If Marcus had wanted us to know about his other life, don't you think he would have told us?”

“Not if circumstances forced him underground.”

“Circumstances that could have got him killed.”

Watching Rhonda turn the pages, Casey wondered if that book was the reason someone had broken into the house on Marine Drive. Was it possible that the locker break-ins at work were also connected? Probably not. After all, several were opened and cash was stolen. Or was that what the perp wanted people to think? Was the key to an expensive home the reason for the book's value, or the names in that book?

“Vincent Wilkes and Lillian are in here.” Rhonda put the book down. “How much do you think she knows about Marcus's other life?”

“No clue.” But she hoped to find out soon.

“You should give the book to Lalonde.”

“I will when I'm done with it.” Casey put her beer down to pick up the bowling shoes she'd left by her stationary bike. “At the moment, he's probably busy contacting names in the current book.”

“Casey, there might not be any difference between investigating a crime and researching Marcus's life.”

“If there isn't, I'll back off.”

Rhonda put the book down and sighed. “No matter what you discover, Marcus is still gone. Maybe the secrets should stay buried.”

Wrong. He'd bloody lied about his life and he died violently. Secrets had to be exposed.

•  •  •

As Casey swallowed the last of her hamburger, Lou said, “Think you'll be able to toss a bowling ball after all that food?”

“Totally, and I bet my score will be higher than yours.” She looked around. “Marie should be here by now.”

“Actually, she's not coming. Her babysitter canceled at the last minute.”

“Too bad,” although not entirely. She welcomed the break from her coworker's competitive streak, one that covered everything from bowling scores to landing assignments and grabbing Lou's attention. Casey used to chalk it up to insecurity, but she later realized that Marie had a thing for Lou and had decided Casey was a rival.

“By the way, that purse thief struck again and Marie nearly caught him.”

“Crap, the count's up to four purses and one wallet now. What happened?”

“She was eastbound on the M8 around lunchtime when the guy struck at the Broadway and Renfrew stop. Marie saw it happen, but the kid took off fast. She got a good look at him, though.”

“Really?” A twinge of jealousy rippled through Casey, though she wasn't sure if this was because Marie had made a point of telling Lou about it or that she could
ID
the guy. “Did she say what he looked like?”

“Acne on his face, full lips, tall and thin with a ball cap and black and yellow backpack.”

“Hmm, the backpack doesn't match earlier descriptions.”

“Maybe he bought a new one. They found the wallet, and the victim said she had eighty bucks in it. Credit cards were still there.”

“As usual,” Casey said, and rubbed her aching shoulder. She needed to catch that kid soon.

“You okay?” Lou asked.

“Yeah, fine.”

On the way here, she'd shown him her wounds and told him everything that had happened. Typically, Lou hadn't said much. He'd never been one for spouting opinions. Still, the surprise and worry on his face had been easy to read. When she described what she saw at the morgue, Lou had actually cringed.

“By the way, Rhonda has a new tenant,” Casey remarked. “He's an electrician.”

Lou slid closer to her on the bench, “Thought hers was a girls-only house.”

“She needs the bucks and probably hopes he'll do a little free rewiring.”

“Think he'll fit in?”

“He and Rhonda seem to have hit it off; innuendo has been flashing all day.” Casey looked around for their teammates, who were still at the food counter.

“Rhonda's seeing romance, huh?”

“Rhonda's seeing a heart-shaped, vibrating bed with mirrors on the ceiling.” When he didn't crack a smile, she asked, “What's wrong?”

Lou watched people throw practice balls. “I know you can take care of yourself, but you're getting into some potentially dangerous, heavy-duty family stuff, Casey.”

“I can handle it.”

He watched her. “You sounded sad when you filled me in.”

The bells and whistles of pinball machines rang on the other side of a partition.

“You mean depressed again?”

He paused. “It was hard to see you go through it after Marcus's funeral.”

Hard to experience, too; mercifully, a good therapist and the right medication had shortened the ordeal. She touched his arm. “I'm not depressed, just angry and shocked. I mean, Dad's secrets go back a lot of years, and I need to know why.”

“Why don't you wait until the cops solve the murder, then take your time researching the past. They may find out things you couldn't.”

Casey stared at the rows of pins. “Would you like to see Dad's fancy West Van home tomorrow?”

“It's too risky.”

“Not with two people in the middle of the afternoon. Even in the dark, my assailant wore a hood pulled over his forehead. My guess is he won't go near the place in daylight, but if it'll make you feel better, we could bring friends.”

He shrugged.

“No one's going to stop me from going through those rooms, Lou. I need to know.”

“Could be that the truth isn't worth knowing.”

Meaning secrets should stay buried, like Rhonda said? Absolutely not. “Remember the night I was driving the M4 bus and that drunk pulled a knife on me?”

“I'll never forget it.”

Lou was the first to see her stumble out of the bus back at Mainland. He'd put his arms around her until she stopped shaking. Greg had arrived later and told her she should get a secretarial job.

“I went back to work the next night because if I didn't, I was afraid I'd never drive again.” Casey paused. “I have to face the past right now or the fear will get worse. I can't spend the rest of my life wondering where my courage went.”

“Yeah.” Lou watched their approaching teammates. “I was afraid you'd say that.”

CASEY WINKED AT
Lou as she unlocked Dad's front door with the key from the blue notebook. She pushed the door open and raised the pipe wrench, should her hunch about the thug's absence be wrong. The wrench wasn't much of a weapon, but it was better than nothing. She'd look for the tire iron she'd lost Tuesday night.

Standing on the threshold, Casey listened for sounds and peered around the door.

“Crap, look at this,” she said, pulling Lou inside.

A dozen wooden crates, each packed with items wrapped in newspaper, sat in the foyer.

“These weren't here two days ago.” Casey looked at the staircase and again listened to the quiet.

“Want to leave?” Lou whispered.

“No, but let's see if a red Jaguar's in the garage.”

A minute later, they were staring at an empty garage.

“I'll show you the den,” she said.

In the den, the bloodstained chair and carpet were still here, but everything else was gone except the phone. Was her attacker a professional thief who'd found an unoccupied home, or somebody listed in one of Dad's address books?

In the living room, she and Lou strolled between more sealed crates before venturing into the empty dining room. Back in the foyer, Casey smacked the wrench against a crate.

“All this packing in a day and a half?” Again, she looked at the staircase. “Someone's worked fast, or he had help.”

“Any ideas who?” Lou asked.

“Theo Ziegler comes to mind. I called Lalonde, but he still hasn't been able to find him. Ziegler hasn't been following me that I could see, so I'm thinking he's been busy here.”

“A thief and a killer?”

“Possibly. Lalonde wouldn't tell me what, if anything, they've dug up on him, so I did a little research on the net and found a website for a
TZ
Incorporated, based in Geneva. It's just a little one-page site, but it states that Ziegler's owner of a company that specializes in unique imports and exports. His is the only name on the site, along with a contact number.”

“Which I assume you called?”

Casey smiled. “I talked to a woman who said he's out of town indefinitely. She wouldn't give me any info about the company and asked me to call back in a couple of weeks. Ziegler's either warned her to shut up or the police have already scared her off.” She began rummaging through a crate. “When I left my name and number and asked that he call me, her voice went all squeaky, so I'm wondering if she knows the name Holland. It'll be interesting to see if Ziegler returns my call.”

“Let's go upstairs.” Lou looked at the staircase. “Want me to lead?”

“Since I dragged you here, that wouldn't be fair.”

Casey took her time with each step, alert to the silence. At the top of the stairs, she looked over her shoulder and then scanned the area for intruders. She hadn't noticed the five doors in the dark the other night, or the wood paneling on the far wall. In daylight, the atrium was bright and cheerful. Lou wandered past a row of vibrantly colored plants.

“I knew your dad loved gardening,” he said, “but why bring the whole yard inside?”

“It's not the whole yard; the grass is still out there.”

Lou touched several flower petals. “Silk.” He gazed at a half-dozen trees, most of them more than six feet high. “The trees are real. Red maple, purple leaf plum.” He studied the tree at the far end of the room. “Japanese maple.”

“Impressive.”

“Remember the tree doctor I went out with?”

Casey remembered all of Lou's girlfriends. “She really liked you,” although she'd been totally wrong for him.

“She dragged me through tons of parks and forests, very educational.”

Casey spotted the tire iron in a corner, picked it up, and gave the weapon to Lou, “For your protection.”

“Thanks,” he said, as he looked around, “but I don't think I'll need it.”

She searched three rooms where more crates were sealed shut, closets emptied, and mattresses upended.

“Hey,” Lou called from the room behind the stairs, “I found a pool table.”

Casey stepped inside and watched him stroke the table's surface. “Must have been a new hobby.” She gazed at the diagonal violet, mauve, and pink stripes on one wall. Not Dad's taste at all. “I'm not letting anyone take anything. I'll hire a security service and talk to the cops before we head back.”

“Do you want to empty the crates?”

“No, I should be back on the M8 by lunch hour.”

“I thought he doesn't normally strike at noon.”

“I know, but a time pattern's emerging and it fits a high school student's schedule. I'm thinking our guy's a student and not a street kid like Stan thinks. So, I want to check out the schools on or near the M8's route.” She headed out the door. “Let's take a peek at this last room.”

In the northwest corner, above the living room, an enormous master bedroom—not yet packed—was flooded by natural light from the large skylight. On the king-sized bed lay half a dozen paintings and one pen-and-ink drawing, each partially covered with brown wrapping paper and a bill of sale.

“Simone told me that Dad's dealt in art, among other things.” She studied the bills from Oregon and California. All were made out to
TZ
Inc. “They can't be stolen or the police would have confiscated them.”

While Lou studied the artwork, she wandered to the French doors and out onto a balcony. From this height, she could see the shoreline and a strip of beach. She turned and stepped back inside.

The room would be packed up soon. One empty crate had been placed in front of the closet filled with casual wear and suits. When had Dad started wearing Armani? There was no sign of women's clothing, no trace of makeup or other female toiletries in the en suite bathroom.