start to cry.
“I gotta go,” Ursula said into the receiver. “Bye.” She looked at the stool. “You still want that thing?”
“Yes, and I just had a run-in with Elliott Birch.” She spotted Birch coming down the hall. He turned and headed toward the building’s entrance. “He’s leaving right now with a box and said he isn’t paying for anything.”
Ursula spun around. “Pav, Birch is here and he’s taking off!”
“Would you pick up the baby while I deal with him?”
After Paval rushed out the door, Ursula held out her hand. “Where’s my twenty?”
“The stool has a couple of stains, so I’ll give you fifteen.” Casey removed a twenty dollar bill from her wallet. “Do you have change?”
Ursula looked at her with contempt. “No wonder I’m still living in this dump. I have to get the baby, so wait here.”
“How about I get the baby for you? It’ll save time.” It would also give her a chance to peek into the bathroom. Since Jeremy had spent a lot of time here, she had a hunch.
“Whatever.” Ursula clumped down the hall. “She’s in the room at the end.”
Casey followed her until Ursula stepped into a bedroom on the left. Farther down the hall, Casey stopped at the bathroom. The lights were off. She continued to the second room containing two cribs, a chest of drawers, and a changing table.
The baby had spit up. Sour milk dribbled down her chin and onto her pink sleeper. Casey lifted the child and headed for the bathroom. Once she’d switched on the light, she found a box of tissues on the counter.
She wiped the tiny face and moved closer to the green tub with its clean white decals. The wall tiles were spotless. Halogen lights made the room much brighter than Jasmine’s bathroom. Had Jeremy’s picture been taken here? Jasmine might have come to pick him up early, seen him playing in the tub, and borrowed Paval’s camera. But what if she hadn’t taken the picture?
Casey lifted the whimpering infant onto her shoulder and massaged her back. Given the sexual abuse Jasmine had suffered, the thought of a landlord taking pictures of her naked child might have enraged her. Was this what Jasmine meant when she wrote that Paval had crossed the line? Maybe Jasmine hadn’t given Hannah details because the implication was too awful. She wouldn’t have wanted to upset her ailing mother.
Paval appeared in the doorway. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, but babies make me nervous.” She handed the child to Paval. “She spit up.”
Casey watched Paval’s liquid eyes. The first two times she met him, she assumed he’d been close to tears over Jasmine, but maybe he always looked this way. What if he and Jasmine had argued about the photo? A sexual abuse allegation would end his job, possibly his marriage, and launch a police investigation. Could he have killed her? Was he nasty enough to have beaten Winifred and threatened to kill Summer? He didn’t know Summer existed, though, unless Marie had told him. A prickly, stinging sensation ran up and down Casey’s arms, as if someone was grazing her skin with a bouquet of thorns.
“Here’s your change.” Ursula plunked a crumpled five dollar bill in her hand.
“That’s exactly what I got out of Birch,” Paval said. “The jerk was about to take a swing at me.”
Casey picked up the stool and stepped into the hall. “Thanks for this.”
She hurried out of the building and looked for Birch’s car, but he’d apparently taken off. Keys ready, she jogged to her Tercel, alert for trouble. Once inside, she locked the door, then called Corporal Lundy.
While the phone rang, Casey’s thoughts swirled. Thefts, child abuse, beatings, murder. Was Paval responsible, after all? Dirty blue decals, clean white decals. Three weeks had passed since she’d seen those photos. She couldn’t be completely sure which bathroom the photo was taken in until she saw the snapshot again. Casey tried to exhale her anxiety away. Don’t jump to conclusions, girl. Ask Lundy about the photo first, and then see what was what.
TWENTY-EIGHT
WHY DID LUNDY HAVE TO be on another line? Casey plunked her phone on the passenger seat and pulled away from the Gallenskis’ building. She checked the time. Quarter to five.
Before she’d left the house, Stan had called to make sure she’d be on the M6 bus by eight. She’d have time to grab some food and then head for the library to work on her essay. Ordinarily, Casey didn’t welcome shifts with Rude Wesley Axelson. Tonight, though, even his company would be better than staying home and listening to every creak in the house. Besides, if the rockhound could describe the shooter, she wanted to catch this nut fast.
Casey checked her mirrors for any sign of Birch’s Dodge Dart. She didn’t see his car or the silver Jetta, but they could still be around, waiting for her. By the time she reached the highway, her tense shoulders had begun to ache.
She first spotted the SUV following her on the Gallenskis’ street while she was turning onto Foster. A quick left turn onto North Road and then a slow right onto the highway hadn’t changed the SUV’s pace. The vehicle kept three car lengths back, too far away to read the license plate. Still, she might be making too much out of this. The highway was less than five minutes from the Gallenskis’ place and a heavily used route to Vancouver. On the other hand, what if her encounter with the Gallenskis had prompted the tail?
Did Paval prey on kids? Did Ursula know? Why hadn’t she told anyone that she’d seen Birch and Gabrielle together? Blackmail was a possibility, given Ursula’s money worries. Had she found out that Gabrielle’s mother was wealthy, and assumed Gabrielle had access to cash? Was Gabrielle on the mainland now to deal with Ursula? Casey tried to ignore the dread slithering like a serpent inside her. She again glanced at her rearview mirror. What kind of car did Paval drive?
Her phone rang. She answered with her Bluetooth.
“This is Corporal Lundy. You left a message about the photos?”
“Yes, but first, I think someone’s tailing me.” Casey explained what had happened and where she was.
“It’s rush hour, which means a lot of traffic,” he said. “Are you sure?”
“No.”
“Can you describe the vehicle?”
“Just that it’s a dark SUV. There’s another intersection coming up and an Esso station on the corner. I’m turning off.” She switched on her right turn signal, cruised through the intersection, then pulled into the gas station. “The SUV’s driving past.”
“Good. From what you described, you were near Mrs. Birch’s apartment building, is this correct?”
“Yeah, Jasmine’s landlords are selling her furniture, so I bought a footstool I saw in her apartment when we were picking up Jasmine’s pets; which reminds me, would you like to own a gerbil, hamster, or guinea pig?”
“Thank you, no. You mentioned something about a bathroom?”
“Yes. I stopped in hers to get rid of my gum and that’s when I noticed the blue flower decals on the bottom of Jasmine’s bathtub. The lighting wasn’t good, but the landlord’s bathroom has much better lighting and white decals.”
“How do you know?” He sounded annoyed.
“I was in there, too, helping with a crying baby. So, now I’m wondering which room the photo was taken in. I know it’s none of my business, but this is important.”
“That’s your professional assessment, is it?”
Casey sighed. “Do you know what type of car the Gallenskis drive, by any chance?”
“It’s not a SUV or silver compact, and I want you to stay away from that building, understand?”
“Just one more thing: did you know that tenants have had things stolen from their suites?”
“Excuse me?”
“I bumped into a tenant as she was moving out. She said the landlords stole stuff from her apartment and that it’s happened to others. Jasmine even caught Ursula in her apartment one day and thought she took an amethyst pendant and earrings.” Casey watched drivers pumping gas. “Apparently, she searched the Gallenskis’ bedroom, which could be how she found the photos.”
“How did you know about the stolen jewelry when you told me the two of you weren’t on good terms?”
“Jasmine wrote about it in a letter to her mother. Hannah wanted me to read the letters, so she invited me
