whole staff meeting, as if he was fighting to keep his emotions in check. I can’t help wondering if he felt more than an attraction for her.”
“Did the corporal make you his assistant?”
Casey’s patience dissolved like cotton candy in water. “Remind me, why am I here? Oh yeah, that’s right; to help you.”
Marie swept thick hair back from her freckled face. “Sorry, but I’m still upset. I hardly slept last night.”
“I understand that, but I didn’t kill her, Marie. Jasmine wouldn’t let me know her when she was alive, and I did try. What’s wrong with wanting to understand how things were for her now?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Marie turned away.
“Yes, it does. It bothers me that the longer I knew Jasmine the more she hated me. I’d like to know why.”
Marie picked up the cat. “Get over it, Casey.”
“What do you think I’m trying to do?”
“There’s a goldfish in Jeremy’s room.” She headed for the hallway. “Could you take it too?”
Casey had worked with Marie long enough to know when a discussion was over. “I think I can manage one goldfish and a few hamsters.”
At least it was better than taking home Fagan the ferret.
SEVEN
CASEY MANAGED TO KEEP HER food-laden paper plate steady while she nudged her way through Marie’s crowded living room. She didn’t really want to be here, but commiserating with grieving colleagues seemed like the right thing to do.
“It was a beautiful service, don’t you think?” Paval Gallenski said.
Casey glanced at the landlord’s moist eyes, and then focused her plate. “Yes, it was.”
“What happened to your fingers?”
She wiggled three bandaged fingers. “Jasmine’s pets.” They didn’t like her any better than Jasmine had. “Who knew guinea pigs could draw blood?”
Casey had been fostering the animals for a week and Marie still hadn’t found them homes. She’d been so edgy lately that Casey had left the issue alone. She wished Lou was with her, but not everyone had been able to take time off work for the funeral. Two other supervisors besides Stan had attended, but Stan was the only one who’d come to Marie’s house. David Eisler hadn’t made an appearance at all.
“Why is that horrible ex-husband of Jasmine’s here,” Paval asked, “and who’s looking after poor Jeremy?”
Casey followed Paval’s gaze to the short, sulky guy dripping artichoke dip onto his shirt. Elliott Birch’s shiny black hair was slicked back and his thick triangles of sideburn were decades out of date.
“Marie looked furious to see him at the church,” Paval said.
“I noticed.” Just before the service began, Birch had plunked beside Marie in the front pew. The disgust on Marie’s face had made his identity easy to figure out.
“She shouldn’t have let that asshole in her home,” Paval said.
“She didn’t. He slipped in with a group of people while Marie was talking to our supervisor.” Casey watched Birch shovel food into his mouth. “Apart from the free food, why would he come at all?”
“The psycho likes to stalk and taunt. Whenever I saw him by Jasmine’s balcony, I called the cops, but he always took off before they got there.” Anger darkened Paval’s face. “Maybe he’s playing games with Marie because she didn’t want to give Jeremy back.”
“I take it you were good friends with Jasmine?”
“I am with most of the parents in our building. We’ve only had one tenant leave since we took over a year ago. When you offer people respect and friendship, they stay loyal. Jasmine was a great gal.”
Casey focused on her plate so Paval wouldn’t see her guilt. She hadn’t shed many tears at the service, and she felt as out of place now as she had last week in the lunchroom. The peace and closure she’d hoped for hadn’t happened.
“Do you know how the investigation’s coming along?” Paval asked.
“No, the police have asked staff so many questions that no one wants to talk about it anymore.”
“Birch should be their main suspect.”
Better him than Mainland staff, Casey thought. After Roberto and Wesley were interviewed twice, employees started wondering if those who’d been closest to Jasmine were under suspicion. People had begun taking sides. In eight days, the laid-back, chatty work environment she’d enjoyed was now filled with suspicion and silence. Friendly expressions had grown furtive; greetings were reduced to half-hearted murmurs. She glared at Birch as he checked out the women while stuffing his face with cocktail sausages.
“Some people think Birch paid a coworker with his height and build to do his mail route the day Jasmine was shot,” Paval said.
Casey had heard this as well, and didn’t buy it. “Wouldn’t someone at work or on his route have noticed the difference?”
“Maybe Birch bought their silence. What if he stole Noel’s van the night before, hid it somewhere on his route, and then used it to kill Jasmine the next morning?”
“How would he know she’d arrive early to pick up Jeremy?”
“He could have been stalking her again; waiting for an opportunity.”
“What the hell are you doing here?” Marie charged toward Birch.
“Trying to figure out which one of you killed my wife.”
Casey and Paval exchanged pensive glances. Conversations stopped.
“As far as I’m concerned, you did, you abusive freak,” Marie said.
Casey cringed. Why couldn’t she just ask him to leave and be done with it?
“I’ve got witnesses who’ll prove I didn’t shoot her,” Birch said. “If I had something to hide, I wouldn’t be here.”
“Get out!” Marie shouted.
Birch threw his half-filled plate onto the hardwood floor and started for the door.
“I know you did it,” she called out.
“Marie, stop,” a deep, unfamiliar voice called from behind a group of people.
Marie moved closer to Birch. Casey held her breath. The woman was far too emotional to think clearly. Casey put her plate on the table and headed for Marie. Stan and Roberto got there first. Each man reached for her arms.
“He’s not worth it,” Roberto said to Marie.
“Jasmine told me your delivery route’s only a five-minute drive from her parish.” Marie glowered at Birch. “You knew when and where she took Jeremy to preschool.”
“Keep this up and you’ll regret it, bitch.” He flung the door open.
“You were stalking Jasmine!” She turned to her guests. “Jasmine saw him outside Noel’s house one night.”
Birch charged outside, and Marie slammed the door. “I know he shot her, I just don’t know how he pulled it off.”
A few people nodded, but Casey noticed that most of them looked uncomfortable. When would Marie learn to think before she opened her mouth? Declaring war on this guy wasn’t smart.
“Marie?” Stan said. “Let’s talk a sec.”
Casey spotted Wesley Axelson near the staircase opposite the front door. She’d worked with Wesley twice on the rockhound assignment since Jasmine’s death, but he’d barely spoken to her. His glum, hairy face stared at the floor. She’d never seen him look so sad.
Casey worked her way toward him. “How are you doing, Wes?” When he didn’t look up she said, “You wouldn’t be interested in owning one of Jasmine’s pets, would you? I’m trying to find homes for her gerbils, hamsters, and guinea pigs.”
