talk privately. Afraid to lose what little cooperation the detective had given her, Casey hadn’t told him about her visit to the house. Hiding the pain to her shoulder had been tough.
“He wanted to know, among other things, how long you’d been engaged to Dad.”
Rhonda plugged in the kettle. “Why? And why wouldn’t he ask me?”
“The great detective wouldn’t say.”
She didn’t want to tell her that Mother had called Lalonde from Geneva, Switzerland, of all places, to ask if she could claim Dad’s body. It seemed she felt it only right to remove the “burden” of funeral arrangements off her “poor daughter” and make them herself.
Mother came from a family of con artists who associated with criminals, and the whole clan disliked cops. She hadn’t introduced Casey to many of her relatives, but she had talked about working in an uncle’s pharmacy when she was sixteen. Her job was to change the expiry dates on pill bottles and packaging to sell as new meds. Casey figured the family had a lot of heart attacks and unwanted pregnancies to answer for, among other things.
Even if she knew who the killer was, Casey doubted Mother would tell the authorities if it compromised her interests. That Mother was in Geneva, the same city where Theodore Ziegler had another address, had made her wonder exactly what Mother’s interest was in all this. She’d asked Lalonde about it, but his response was to remind her that this was a police investigation.
“The great detective can’t locate Dad’s dental records. Do you know who his dentist was? Because I don’t remember.”
“I don’t either.” Rhonda removed a jar of instant coffee from the cupboard.
“Lalonde might have a DNA test performed on the body, but results could take time.”
“What for? You identified your father.”
“It sure looked like him, yeah. But now that there are two deceased Marcus Hollands, DNA testing could be necessary for at least one of them, if not both. I think they’ll want to compare their analysis with DNA they know is Dad’s.”
“What’s wrong with fingerprints?”
“That’s also why he was here,” Casey answered. “I gave him the birthday cards I got from Dad, and do you still have his comb? They’ll need hair samples for testing.”
Rhonda nodded. “I never cleaned them or his razor and toothbrush.”
After the funeral, Rhonda had asked for all of Dad’s personal items, including his clothes. As far as Casey knew, she’d kept everything.
“Whatever Marcus was up to,” Rhonda said, “he kept it secret to protect us. You know that, don’t you?”
“I don’t know anything right now.”
“He loved you, Casey. He would have done anything to keep you from harm. After Marcus kicked Lillian out, he hired a private detective to watch over you in case Lillian’s family tried to kidnap you.”
“He never told me that.” But then Dad apparently hadn’t told her lots of things. “Gran and Gramps wouldn’t have taken me.”
“Your aunts and uncles would have, if Lillian told them to. Those people had connections. Could have had you out of the country in two hours.”
Casey believed her. “I should go.”
“Have you started funeral arrangements?” Rhonda asked.
“Yep.” She hesitated. “It seems that Mother wants to claim his body.”
Rhonda snorted. “I always knew Lillian wanted him back, but his corpse? That’s sick.”
“Yeah, well, she’s not getting it, and I’ll tell her so myself if I have to.”
Last night, Lalonde handed her a message from Mother, asking Casey to call her collect at the Geneva number. Undecided about what to do, she’d shoved the message in her jeans pocket, the same jeans she was wearing now.
Rhonda poured a teaspoon of sugar into a mug. “You said Lalonde called Lillian when he found Marcus’s body.”
“Yeah.”
“Has he been in touch with her since?”
Oh, great. “Yes.”
Rhonda glanced at her as she took milk out of the fridge. “Did Lalonde bring up Lillian’s name last night?”
“Why do you ask?”
Rhonda sloshed milk over the sugar. “Just wondering if Lillian discussed me with him—if that’s why he asked about my engagement.”
“He did, and it’s been bugging me because Mother was long gone before you and Dad got together, so how’d she know about you two?”
Rhonda rubbed sleep-starved eyes. “I didn’t want you to know this—thought it’d upset you—but Lillian’s been keeping in touch with me for some time.”
Casey’s cheeks grew warm. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Kidding about your mother’s impossible.” Rhonda’s smile was bleak. “She called what felt like a hundred times to apologize for ruining my marriage. Claimed she wanted to be friends again, and to see you again. She still asks about you.”
Casey couldn’t believe it. “What do you tell her?”
“Just the basics,” Rhonda’s teaspoon clanged against the mug. “She said she was so sorry for hurting you and me. She said, ‘I swear I’ll never hurt you again, Rhonda; just tell me how I can make it up to you, Rhonda; we know each other too well to stay apart.’” Rhonda dropped the teaspoon in the sink. “As if she could scam me. The second I told her that Marcus and I were engaged, I knew she hadn’t changed.”
“Why?”
“She said, ‘He’ll never need you as much as I do. He’ll never understand you as well as I do, Rhonda.’ Every time she called she went on about how he and I were wrong for each other.” Rhonda removed a green bucket, brush, and Pine Sol from the cupboard below the sink. “I would bet Lillian said the same thing to Marcus. She hinted that they’d stayed in touch. When you said her name was in his address book I wasn’t surprised.”
“Why would Dad have done that?”
“No clue.” Rhonda filled the bucket with water. “Lillian kept calling me after Marcus’s funeral, supposedly to see how I was doing. I wonder if she knew he was alive.”
“If you didn’t want Mother’s friendship, why say anything at all? Why not just hang up on her?”
“You won’t believe this, but I felt sorry for Lillian.” Rhonda picked up her scrub brush and rubber gloves. “She was so desperate for news about you. I’m a mom, Casey. I can’t imagine being estranged from my daughter, not watching her grow up.”
“Did you and Dad ever discuss Mother?”
“I told Marcus about the calls, but he wouldn’t talk about it. Thought he was still bitter. Now, I’m not so sure.” Rhonda lifted the bucket out of the sink. “Somehow, I don’t think Lillian’s finished with us.”
“What do you mean?”
She plunked the sudsy bucket onto the floor. “Sooner or later, she might appear on our doorstep to try and make peace with you.”
“After all of these years?”
“I think she hates that you and I are close.” Rhonda put the gloves on. “She wants to be part of your life again, probably to try and come between us.”
An unsettling thought. Was that why Mother wanted her to phone?
Rhonda began scrubbing the floor. Rhonda always cleaned floors when she was under stress, which was why Casey was glad she hadn’t mentioned the phone message. Her friend had to be far more stressed than she was letting on. Why else would she abandon partially eaten toast and a fresh mug of coffee to wash a floor she’d just washed yesterday?
