Deadly Accusations (21 page)

“SORRY, CASEY, BUT YOU'RE BACK
supervising the kids with Marie,” Stan said. “We're too short-staffed.”

Casey slumped in her chair and watched him straighten his tan tie with the pink triangles. She kept her gaze on that god-awful tie so she wouldn't have to look at Marie sitting next to her. She was being unusually quiet. Casey had argued that this was Marie's case, not hers, and that Marie could easily handle what would probably be a subdued bunch of kids after that last fight, but Stan disagreed.

“Look, it's not my fault that the parents threatened to complain loudly and publicly about Mainland if we didn't pick up their kids again,” Stan said. “Eisler promised parents two security staff for a couple of days. Anyhow, it took some effort, but I got him to agree that your presence would send a strong reminder to those boys about fighting.”

“Fine.” She just hoped Marie wouldn't whine about her brother's situation all through their shift, or beg for more help.

“How's the goose egg, anyway?” he asked.

“It's still tender, but there've been no more headaches.” She sat forward. “Did anyone address the real problem between these kids, which is that the white kid, Scott, is smitten with a girl from the other group and that the girl might feel the same?”

“I was told that all concerned parties had a meeting, but I wasn't given details.” Stan's phone rang. When Marie stood he said, “Wait here a minute. There's something else you both need to know.”

Marie strolled to the window, keeping her back to Casey. Casey yawned, wishing she could have slept in. After her lunch with Noel, the rest of the weekend had been a marathon of errands, housework, cage cleaning, and essay writing. Never far from her thoughts, though, was Friday night's ominous warning. Troubling as well was her turmoil over Rhonda and Summer.

Casey had hoped that Friday's phone message to Rhonda would prompt a quick response, but it hadn't. She'd called again yesterday and learned that Rhonda was still in the infirmary. When she explained the situation to Summer, the poor kid tried to sound optimistic. Casey knew what Summer was thinking: that Rhonda was avoiding them.

Stan hung up and leaned back in his chair. Casey tried to stifle another yawn.

“Tired?” he asked.

“Yeah, busy weekend, stressful week.”

“If things go well today and tomorrow, you can skip the rest of the week.”

“Thanks.”

“How's Summer doing?” he asked.

“Okay. I've moved her to a safe location.”

Marie turned to face her. “With her grandmother?”

Summer's whereabouts were none of her business. “No.”

Casey didn't understand why Winifred had chosen to remain in the house. She knew Summer might not be back for several days, even weeks. Part of Casey was tempted to ask her to leave, but Winifred seemed determined to scour the entire house. Maybe it was helping her work out some stress. Whenever Rhonda had been under stress, she scrubbed the kitchen floor incessantly. Winifred's thing was vacuuming.

“To stop more rumors from spreading,” Stan said, clasping his hands together, “you girls should know that Eisler's alibi is solid.”

“What?” Marie approached his desk. “Are you sure?”

Stan gave her a look. “Would I be saying this if I wasn't?”

“Then what the hell was he doing the morning Jasmine died?” Marie asked.

“First off,” Stan said, pointing at her, “do not take that tone with me.”

She slumped into the chair. “Sorry.”

Casey got up and opened a window for fresh air.

“Secondly, what I'm going to say is confidential, you got that?”

“Yeah,” Casey answered, noticing Marie's nod.

“Eisler was at a job interview, which the cops verified.”

“Damn,” Marie murmured.

“Excuse me?” Stan said, frowning.

“Well, surely you can see it from my perspective.”

Casey crossed her arms. That was the problem. Marie only saw things from her perspective. Even before the crisis with Noel, everything revolved around her needs and worries.

Stan checked his watch. “The M10 is pulling out in fifteen minutes. Be on it.”

Anxious to get away from Marie, Casey hurried out the door and jogged downstairs. She marched past the lunchroom, and then entered the women's locker room. The room was empty. As she approached her locker, she spotted
RAT BITCH
scrawled across the door in burgundy lipstick.

“You've got to be kidding!” Marie yelled from the other end of the room.

Casey walked over and saw the same words on Marie's locker.

“Who would do that?” Marie kicked the locker below hers.

Good question. Although Casey had let everyone know she wasn't looking into Jasmine's death anymore, some coworkers still kept their distance. Rumors of a killer among them had hardly inspired a warm fuzzy feeling. Clearly, certain people blamed her and Marie for starting them.

“Have you seen that shade of lipstick on anyone?” Casey asked.

“No.” Marie glared at the words. “I wonder when this was done.”

“We can ask the cleaning crew if they saw anything.”

Cleaners worked between 5:00 and 7:00
AM
and this room was never locked, so anyone could have come in. The main entrances were unlocked at seven and locked after six at night. Casey removed a tissue from her purse and rubbed it on the lipstick.

“You won't get it off that way,” Marie remarked.

“I just want a color sample.”

“The tube could be wrecked, and who'd be stupid enough to wear that shade now?”

“You never know. Lipstick's expensive. Check out the garbage can.”

Marie marched up to the can by the door and looked inside. “Nothing.” She returned to her locker. “The shade's vaguely familiar. I just can't remember who I've seen it on. It shouldn't take us too long to figure it out.”

“Us?”

“Don't tell me you're going to sit back and do nothing?”

“I'm not wasting time over a cheap shot,” Casey said. “If I happen to see a similar shade on someone, I'll make a note of it, but that's all. I've had more than enough trouble for one week.”

Marie's expression softened. “I heard about the shooting Friday night. Aren't you going to do anything about that?”

Casey returned to her locker and shoved her purse inside. “Not if it means risking Summer's life.”

“The killer doesn't believe you're off the case, so why not keep searching for him?”

Casey had been debating that question all weekend.

“Catching the freak before he gets us is the best way to protect our kids,” Marie continued. “Come on, Casey, it's not like you to sit around waiting for a bunch of cops to save the day. You're smart enough to be discreet.”

Casey marched out of the room. She got as far as the lunchroom entrance before Marie caught up. “Noel's really depressed. He figures he's about to be arrested. If there's a trial, he'll have to sell his house to pay legal costs.” She grabbed Casey's arm. “We're out of money and we've tried banks loans, but . . .” Her mouth trembled.

A group of maintenance guys and clerical workers left the lunchroom. When they saw her and Marie, conversation stopped and they slowed their pace. None of the women were wearing burgundy lipstick.

“You're the only one who can help us,” Marie said, oblivious to her coworkers.

Two female drivers, neither wearing lipstick, headed their way. The big tall woman, Ingrid, gave Marie a hard stare. Ingrid had been employed at Mainland six months and Casey had never worked with her. From what she'd heard, though, Ingrid wasn't much of a team player.

“What I want to know,” Casey said to Marie, “is why you've been so eager to have me check people out when you've been withholding key information?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You had Noel's dark jacket and royal blue ball cap when the murder happened.” Casey knew she shouldn't mention this in front of others, but she'd had enough bullying.

Marie's face reddened. “I was so upset by Jasmine's death that I forgot I had his stuff until after the funeral. Anyway, that just proves Noel's innocent. His jacket was swishing around my washing machine when Jasmine was shot.”

“So, you made Casey scrounge for suspects here.” Ingrid crossed her arms. “And you shouldn't have agreed to help, Casey.”

Great. More people telling her what she should and shouldn't do. “I'll make my own decisions, thanks.”

“What's wrong with trying to find the truth?” Marie asked. “Certain people around here have lied about their alibis.”

“That doesn't make them killers,” Ingrid shot back.

“It doesn't clear them either. Has anyone bothered to ask Roberto where he really was the morning Jasmine died? Because he sure in hell wasn't at the dentist.”

Casey inhaled sharply. Was Marie trying to piss off more staff, and how had she found out?

“Why doesn't someone ask Wesley how his gun happened to be the murder weapon?” Marie went on.

“Stop trying to get your brother off at staff expense!” Ingrid shouted.

“Noel is innocent! Jasmine was in love with Roberto, but he didn't love her. Wesley was crazy about her, but she didn't love him.” Marie scanned the grim faces. “Do I need to draw you people little pictures?”

Casey cringed. “Let's go, Marie.”

Three more employees joined the group circling her and Marie.

“You didn't want Jasmine marrying your brother, did you?” Ingrid said. “Everyone knew she went out with anything in pants.”

“Liar!” Marie's face was now crimson. “I wish she had been my sister-in-law.”

“Since you're into accusing people,” a mechanic said, “maybe we should wonder about you. You just said you had a dark jacket and blue cap when Jasmine was shot.”

Marie's eyes blazed. “How dare you accuse me of murdering my best friend!”

“Isn't that what you're doing to Wesley and Roberto?” a secretary asked.

“Roberto doesn't have a credible alibi and Wesley's gun killed her!”

Casey shook her head. “Marie, let's go.”

“What's your alibi, Marie?” Ingrid asked.

“I was doing the bloody laundry!”

When the group laughed, Marie swore at them and stomped outside.

Casey's mind whirled. Marie couldn't be a killer, could she? Sure, Jasmine hadn't told Marie everything, but if Marie was guilty, then why keep asking for help? Had she hoped Casey would prove her brother's innocence and leave it at that?

Pain flared up deep inside Casey's head and she winced. Damn, not a migraine. Not now. She stepped outside into the cool October sunshine. Marie was yakking at Lou in the parking lot; something about filing a complaint with human resources. Gee, that would really help.

When Lou saw Casey, he walked toward her. She hadn't seen or spoken to him since Saturday night. He'd only stayed for two hours. Both of them had been tired and neither had had much to say. Truth was that they'd hardly talked since Thursday's excursion to the Silver Groove four days ago. Usually, he called every day, but not yesterday.

“How are you doing?” he asked.

“Okay. And you?”

“All right. Are you coming bowling tonight? A few of us are getting together.”

“I'll try.”

Marie looked from Lou to Casey, then back to Lou. “It sounds like you two haven't seen each other in ages.”

Casey ignored her.

“Did I tell you how much Noel enjoyed lunch with you on Saturday?” Marie said, glancing at Lou.

Casey shrugged. “It was just a goodbye lunch. Since I'm out of the picture, he and I won't be meeting again.” And that's exactly what she'd told Lou. Taking his hand, she headed toward the M10.

“Noel was hoping to call you socially.” She trailed after them. “I mean, you two hit it off and he needs all the support he can get.”

Casey noticed Roberto walking toward a bus.

“Hey Roberto!” Marie called out. “Did you know that my brother asked Jasmine to marry him?”

Roberto strolled toward them. “She showed me the ring and asked me not to say anything.”

“When did she show it to you?”

“The day before she died.”

Marie grimaced. “Were you jealous?”

“For shit's sake, Marie.” Roberto's eyes narrowed until they were almost squinting. “Jasmine and I were just friends. How many times do I have to say it?”

“Your dentist alibi doesn't hold up.”

Casey wanted to ask if he had a key to Jasmine's place, as Noel claimed, but this wasn't the time.

“We're done here.” Roberto charged toward the garage.

“Time to go, Marie,” Lou said. “Let's hope you're more tactful with the kids.”

Marie stomped toward the M10 bus.