Casey heard Rhonda’s footsteps below. She was probably peeking out the window, her groggy mind trying to connect the dots. She’d have to see her soon and explain why there was a body hanging on the front porch.
Casey sat on the cushioned seat in the bay window. Was Simone killed because of something she knew, like the money’s location? If the killer had found the three million or at least knew where it was, she doubted he would have taken the time to dump Simone’s body here. All that cash was still out there somewhere, and it was now becoming clear that no one would be safe until the killer found it and left town. But what if she found the money first and handed it to Lalonde? What if Lalonde used it to bait the bastard? Her thoughts raced with the possibility of ending this thing once and for all.
Twenty-two
WHILE WESLEY MERGED the M8 into Broadway’s westbound traffic, Casey stifled another yawn. She sat in an aisle seat, her clutch bag easily visible to passengers. She’d thought about changing to a shoulder bag because the thief was used to taking them, but this bag would make his life easier. In hindsight, though, she realized it might also arouse suspicion.
Casey closed her eyes a moment to ease the burning sensation that sleep deprivation had brought on. Every time she’d dozed off last night, the image of Simone snapped her awake. Letting go of the past wouldn’t happen simply because she’d told Lalonde everything, not after Simone’s murder, and certainly not now that she’d seen Mother.
She couldn’t let tragedy devastate her like it had after Dad’s funeral. She was wiser now, more adept at handling loss and disappointment, and lately, the disappointments had been major. Rhonda should have told her about the ongoing communication with Mother; should have admitted she’d tried to confront the man she thought was Marcus.
Casey opened her eyes and glanced at the fitness magazine she’d brought. She hadn’t wanted to work today, but Stan doubted the thief planned to stop for a national holiday. The sun was out on this warm Monday and the bus was half full. If the thief appeared, she hoped her speed and reflexes would measure up.
“Why are you frowning at the magazine?” a familiar voice asked.
Casey looked up and saw Theo watching her. Geez, how long had he been following her this time? She glanced at his hands and pockets for signs of weapons. Nothing. She’d love to slap a pair of handcuffs on the bastard, but if he resisted, passengers could be hurt. She scanned faces to see if she’d also missed the arrival of the purse thief.
“I need to talk to you,” Theo said.
“I’m working right now. Go away.”
Two elderly women, both carrying large handbags, boarded the bus. Rather than use the seats reserved for seniors and the physically challenged at the front, the ladies chose a seat behind the center exit.
Theo sat in front of Casey and turned around. “I saw what Darcy did on your porch last night,” he whispered.
Darcy? But he wasn’t the one she saw. “I told you, this isn’t the time or place.”
“Listen to me.” Theo leaned closer. “He’s on a rampage and you could be next.”
A young guy climbed on board. His acne, full lips, ball cap, and a black and yellow backpack matched the perp’s description. The kid flashed his pass at Wesley and ambled down the aisle, glancing at every passenger. Wesley looked at Casey and nodded toward the boy.
As the kid strolled past her, she pretended to read her magazine.
“Simone was either unconscious or already dead before he got to your place,” Theo whispered.
“I can’t deal with this now.”
She removed a lipstick tube and mirror from her purse. While applying a layer, she watched the kid settle in an aisle seat three rows behind her.
“Casey—”
“You’re the only person I saw near the house, Theo.”
“I was chasing Darcy. I saw him throw rocks at a window and followed him to the front, but then I saw the body on the porch. I stopped to see who it was and if she was still alive. By the time I took off again Darcy was too far ahead.”
Yeah, sure. Right. “Mother said that Darcy works for you. You’re all on the same damn team.”
“That’s what she wants you to think. Truth is, I fired Darcy six weeks ago. I had no idea he’d decided to keep looking for the money until you mentioned his name. I’m sorry, Casey.”
Should she believe him? God knows Mother was more than capable of lying to pursue her own agenda. And Theo had seemed genuinely concerned when he learned about Darcy. Wesley slowed for the Cambie and Broadway stop.
“Why did you fire him?”
“He was becoming too aggressive.”
“And violent?”
“Yes.” Theo stared at her. “Darcy won’t stop the carnage until he gets the money. If you don’t find it he’ll go after Rhonda and her daughter, too.”
“My purse!” a woman behind Casey yelled. “He took my purse!”
A moment later, the kid with the black and yellow backpack was out the door and running.
Casey bolted after him. “Stop! MPT security!”
The file notes had said the suspect was fast. Big understatement. The kid didn’t look back. Theo charged past her and went after him. Dodging pedestrians, Casey followed the pair west on Broadway. Both turned a corner. By the time she reached the corner, they’d vanished.
Hands on hips, Casey tilted her head back and took deep breaths. Stan wouldn’t be happy. Damn it, she shouldn’t have let Theo distract her. Fatigue had weakened her physically and mentally. She re-entered the bus on rubbery legs. Wesley, who wasn’t known for his compassion, was looking at the distraught victim and the woman she sat beside. Casey felt a swoosh of heat on her from embarrassment, and knew her cheeks were probably turning a gaudy shade of red.
“Sorry,” she said to Wesley and the victim. “I couldn’t catch him.”
“Yeah, well, the kid’s a regular track star. Cops are on their way and I’m behind schedule, so stay with the lady, all right? She and her friend,” he nodded to the woman she sat beside, “want to get off.”
“I need to call my son,” the victim said, dabbing her eyes.
“Would you like my cell phone?” Casey asked.
“You can use mine, Aggie,” her friend said.
“Thank you.”
Casey escorted the ladies off the bus and to a nearby bench. Holding Aggie’s hand, she apologized for what had happened.
“It’s all right, dear,” Aggie replied. “It was all so fast. What could you have done?”
Her embarrassment deepened. “Can I get you anything?”
“No, thank you.”
“Are you with transit security?” her friend asked Casey.
“Yes.”
“Well then, you should have caught that delinquent.”
“I tried, ma’am. I’m sorry.” She removed a notepad and pen from her pocket. “Could you each tell me what you saw? It would also be helpful to know what valuables were in the purse.”
The ladies’ statements were brief and muddled. After Casey took their names and phone numbers, she handed each lady her business card should they need to contact MPT.
“The police will create a file,” Casey said, “and will be your primary source of information. We’ll get the officer’s name when he or she arrives.”
“I should call my son now,” Aggie said.
Her friend handed her a cell phone. While the passenger made her call, Casey spotted Theo carrying a straw handbag and hurried up to him.
