“Only one that I heard of.”
“Who?”
He didn’t respond right away. “Eisler.”
“Our snobbish VP who’s barely left his office in two years? I’ve never even seen him acknowledge Jasmine.”
“He wouldn’t in front of people. Jasmine said he called her a few times. She was afraid he’d fire her for rejecting him.”
So, she’d confided in Lou? Jealousy flitted through Casey until she realized how childish it was.
“I don’t know if it stopped,” he added, “but Marie said that Eisler’s wife started phoning him at work more than usual, and making surprise visits to his office.”
“How does Marie know this?”
“She’s friendly with Eisler’s admin assistant.”
How many private conversations had Marie and Lou shared? Casey looked out the window as Lou pulled up to the warring kids’ stop.
“The tweens look more miserable than usual,” Lou said.
Casey removed her ID from her pocket, shoved thoughts of Jasmine aside, and prepared to do her job.
FIVE
CASEY SQUIRMED IN HER CHAIR at the back of the lunchroom as red-eyed colleagues shuffled in. Some women dabbed their eyes and hugged one another. A few guys looked pale and scarcely made eye contact with anybody. Grief was a solo act for a lot of men. Most of the guys she knew didn’t seek hugs during tough times, they sought solitude. A handful of Mainland’s employees showed no emotion at all. Was it an act, or apathy?
Roberto trudged into the room, shoulders slouched, face bewildered. He slumped into a chair near the front. Casey clasped her hands on the tabletop as two women from accounting and human resources approached.
“It’s so sad, Casey,” one said to her.
“Yes.”
“Terrible,” the other added. “I didn’t really know her, but she seemed nice.”
Casey’s shame deepened. She couldn’t think of a kind thing to say about Jasmine; didn’t share their level of grief.
While the women moved on, Lou arrived and took the seat she’d saved for him “You okay?” he asked. “Your face is all red.”
“I hate watching them go through this.”
“The heat in here doesn’t help. Place feels like a sauna.” Lou took off his uniform jacket, unclipped the matching forest green tie, and undid the top two buttons on his shirt. “It smells like rotting compost, too.”
The late afternoon sun blazed through the long row of windows. Casey looked at the rush-hour traffic on the highway. She used to love zipping out of Vancouver, through the suburbs, and into the rural Fraser Valley. Years of development had transformed stretches of it into another clogged thoroughfare leading to more developed urban sprawl.
Wesley Axelson stomped into the room and glowered at everyone as he headed toward the back.
“Looks like Wesley got hurt again,” Lou murmured.
Casey saw the wrapped knee beneath Wes’s baggy gym shorts. In his bid to become a pro wrestler, Wesley had injured body parts so many times that he was often wearing some type of bandage.
“He’s not in uniform,” she said. “Is this his day off?”
“He switched with someone a couple of days ago.”
Wesley leaned against the back wall near Casey and crossed his arms.
“Who’s the tall guy following Eisler?” Lou asked.
Casey turned and observed the solemn, thirty-something man scanning employees’ faces. “RCMP, I think. Stan said a Corporal Lundy wants to look at Jasmine’s locker. I’m supposed to open it for him.”
“Good thing you were in class when she was shot.”
“Why, because she and I argued yesterday?”
Lou squeezed her hand. “We’ll all need alibis, sweetheart.”
“Maybe some more than others.” Casey watched Eisler tug on his shirt collar. His perpetual tan glowed with perspiration and it looked like strands of hair had escaped from his perfect, light brown layers. “Eisler sure seems nervous.”
“He should. I wasn’t the only one who knew he was hot for Jasmine,” Lou mumbled.
Once Stan and the rest of management arrived, the VP made a lacklustre speech about Jasmine’s “warm sparkling personality” and “tremendous contribution” to Mainland. By the end of it, Casey was disheartened. It wasn’t that Eisler had lied about her. After all, lots of coworkers had liked Jasmine and she’d volunteered on Mainland’s social committee. She’d also worked shifts no one else wanted. Why hadn’t she let Casey see that warm sparkling side? What had she done to earn Jasmine’s wrath?
As soon as the corporal was introduced, Roberto said, “Have you arrested anyone yet? Is there even a suspect?”
Casey could only see the back of Roberto’s head, but the anger in his voice was clear. She heard Wesley snort and saw him roll his eyes.
“I’m afraid we don’t have much to report at this time,” the corporal answered.
“At this stage, the authorities need to gather information, not give it,” Eisler said. “And I must ask that none of you speak to the media. If you’re approached, refer them to me.”
“Won’t that make it look like we’re hiding something?” a driver asked.
Eisler’s gaze bore into the driver. “It will look like you don’t know anything about Jasmine’s death, which I assume is true.”
Pensive glances darted around the room.
“Have you checked out her ex, Elliott Birch?” Roberto asked. “He was stalking her and that’s a fact.”
Casey glanced at Lou who stared straight ahead. She hadn’t heard about any stalking.
“You should discuss that privately with the corporal,” Eisler answered.
“Should we be worried?” a dispatcher asked. “I mean, the killer isn’t targeting Mainland staff, is he?”
“At this time, ma’am,” Lundy replied, “we have no reason to believe employees are at risk.”
“Officers will be contacting those of you who’d worked with Jasmine recently,” Eisler stated. “Make yourselves available. That’s all for now.”
Wesley swore under his breath and stomped to the exit. Others shuffled out while murmuring to one another. Casey spotted Stan chatting with Lundy while Eisler rushed out of the room.
“I’d better get this locker thing over with,” she told Lou.
A minute later, she’d introduced herself to Corporal Lundy and he was following her down the hall.
“Did you know Mrs. Birch well?” he asked.
“Not really. We didn’t socialize or work many shifts together.”
“Your supervisor told me about an altercation she had with a student?”
“Yes, the girl was on the bus today. All of the kids were quiet.” She watched Lundy jot something on a notepad. “You do know the kids are only twelve years old, right? They’re not gangbangers, just cliques with attitude.”
He peered at her. “I understand you and Mrs. Birch also argued yesterday.”
She knew this was coming. “I was mad that she’d slapped the girl, yes.”
“I meant before your shift,” Lundy said, “in the stairwell yesterday morning?”
Casey stopped walking. Damn, someone must have overheard her with Jasmine.
“For reasons I don’t understand, Jasmine didn’t like me much. She made it clear she didn’t want to work with me and that’s why we argued.” She resumed walking. “A colleague said Jasmine was sitting in her car when she was shot in the head. I also heard that a van was seen driving off. Is that true?”
“Which colleague told you this?”
