“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.
