“Shit.”
“Roberto has a new alibi, verified by the cops. It seems he was having fun with a married woman.”
“Come on, you two!” Marie shouted.
Lou shook his head. “Who’s doing this?”
“I don’t know. All the more reason to find out what Jasmine wrote in those letters.”
“What if you run into Gabrielle? Isn’t she a suspect too?”
“Since we’ve never met, she won’t know who I am.”
“When are you leaving?”
“After class tomorrow. Will you feed the critters while I’m gone? It will only be twenty-four hours, and I swear I’ll make it up to you. I’ll make everything up to you, promise.”
Lou studied her a moment, then kissed her cheek. “Tell me how later.”
TWENTY-THREE
CASEY TOOK A DEEP YOGA breath, realizing too late that she’d just filled her lungs with the smell of antiseptic. She blew the air out fast and shook the tension from her shoulders before knocking on Hannah O’Reilly’s door. The door was one of a dozen lining the spacious corridor inside Grantwood Manor, although “manor” was too grand a word for this single-story structure. The immaculate lawn and vibrant rose gardens separated by footpaths were impressive, though.
Despite Stan’s and Summer’s support, Casey had had second thoughts about coming here; however, Hannah phoned again last night and tearfully begged her to come read the letters as soon as possible. It seemed Gabrielle suspected Hannah of hiding something, and Hannah was convinced that Gabrielle would soon search her room.
Casey knocked on the door, and looked up and down the hallway. If it wasn’t for the telltale hospital smell, this place could be mistaken for a hotel. Landscape paintings were strategically spaced between sconces illuminating the corridor.
“Just a minute,” a woman answered.
Once Casey had exited the ferry and begun the half-hour drive north to Parksville, misgivings about this trip had started to magnify. By the time she’d cleared Nanaimo’s long sprawl of big box stores, shopping malls, fast food joints, and other businesses, anxiety had really kicked in.
The doorknob turned slowly. When a tall, white-haired woman with Jasmine’s sapphire eyes peered at her, Casey was taken aback. She’d pictured Hannah as a stooped, feeble old lady, not this erect, confident-looking woman. The only evidence of her stroke was a slight droop on the right side of her mouth.
“Casey?”
“Yes, hi.”
“Welcome.” Hannah stepped back. “Please come in.”
Casey entered a spacious room containing bedroom furniture and a sitting area at the far end. An alcove off the sitting area contained a small sink, bar fridge, and toaster oven. French doors opened onto a large, enclosed courtyard filled with orchids, gardenias, and other tropical flowers.
“This is far nicer than I would have expected from a government facility,” Casey said.
“Actually, it’s a private care facility, which essentially means that the place is an overpriced transition house. Residents here don’t need full nursing care, but they still can’t quite manage on their own yet.”
Not cheap, Casey thought; yet Parksville was a picturesque, oceanside resort town with enough golf courses and activities to attract plenty of well-off retirees.
“Come, let’s sit down.” Hannah strolled past the wheelchair by her bed and chose a cushioned chair at the round glass table. Judging from her smooth gait, she didn’t need the wheelchair, at least for short distances.
Casey spotted the flat-screen, wall-mounted TV above a chest of drawers opposite the bed. The walls were mauve and the quilt on Hannah’s twin bed was dark purple with yellow and white flowers. An oil painting of lilacs hung above the bed. Violet plants sat on tabletops. Casey wondered if every room was a tribute to the many shades of purple, or whether Hannah had customized it with bedding and flowers.
“Coffee?” A pot, two cups and saucers, and a plate of sugar cookies were on the table.
“That’d be great, thanks.”
“Would you mind pouring? My arm isn’t quite strong enough to lift a full pot. It took both hands just to get the stupid thing to the table.”
Casey began to pour. “I’m glad you called me back last night. I was worried about you.”
“I realized that I must have sounded like a frantic nut after my initial call.” Hannah clasped her hands together and rested them on the table. “I was just so shocked to spot Gabrielle coming down the hall.” She nodded toward the courtyard. “She rarely visits these days.”
Casey saw a row of windows at the end of the courtyard and recognized the lobby. “I’m sorry if this sounds nosy, but why do you think Gabrielle would destroy your letters?”
“She thinks I’m losing my memory and have forgotten about my grandson. She wouldn’t want me to have any reminders of Jeremy or his mother.”
“She didn’t get along with Jasmine?”
“She doesn’t want to share a million-dollar inheritance with her nephew. She’s resentful enough that her brothers will each inherit the same.” Hannah slurped her coffee. “As long as Gabrielle thinks I’m weak and forgetful, she’s less likely to snoop into my affairs.” Hannah slid the cookie plate toward her. “Help yourself.”
“Thanks.” While Hannah slowly poured cream into her coffee, Casey noticed an eight-by-ten photo of four school-age children on the night table. “Nice looking kids.”
“My grandchildren.”
Casey drank the coffee. Good and strong. “I guess Jasmine was your first child?”
“My third, actually. Her two half brothers are older and Gabrielle is three years younger. I know this sounds odd, Miss Holland.”
“Call me Casey.”
“And I’m Hannah.” She sipped her coffee. “My parents were conservative, religious people. When my husband died and I was left to manage our farm, they kept throwing eligible men my way, hoping I’d find a new husband. When they ran out of church people they resorted to reliable farmhands.”
“It doesn’t sound like much fun.”
“Oh, I had my moments.” Her mouth drooped further when she smiled. “I fell in love with one of them and became pregnant, but he ran off. My parents wouldn’t have anything to do with me unless I gave up the baby.” Hannah gazed at the courtyard. “I desperately needed their support, so I left my boys with my sister and brother- in-law for a few weeks and had Jasmine in Vancouver. Then I gave her away.”
“That must have been so difficult.”
“You have no idea.” She placed her hand over her mouth and lowered her gaze. “Two years later, I married again and had Gabrielle. When my husband died, I began the search. Of course, I had no idea Jasmine had been looking for me as well.” The corners of her mouth were turned so far down they nearly reached her chin. “I suppose losing her twice is God’s punishment for giving her up in the first place.”
Casey noticed a senior hobbling toward a rattan chair in the courtyard. “How many letters did Jasmine write?”
“Thirty. Once I was well enough, we spoke on the phone, of course, but I asked her to keep the letters coming. She wrote beautifully detailed letters; said it helped her put things in perspective.”
Crap, this would require more reading than she’d anticipated. “I’d probably only need to read those concerning her work. Did Jasmine write much about her colleagues?”
“A fair bit, yes. She wrote a lot about her friend, Marie Crenshaw.” Hannah looked at Casey. “Jasmine was trying to help Marie sort out a complicated love life.”
Casey smiled. “Marie has three ex-husbands. Complicated describes her life well.”
“Apparently, she’d chosen number four, although he’s already in a relationship.”
The smile faded. She had a feeling Hannah knew about her and Lou. “Did Jasmine write about her own love life?”
“Yes, and I’m afraid her choice of husband was terrible. Jasmine probably sympathized with Marie because
