“In a room with a lot of books,” Gil replied. “It’s on the ground floor, next to our fence.”
“So, you can see into the room?” Casey asked.
“A little bit of it, when I’m in the garden, like I was then.” Gil lowered his voice. “Saw her through the knothole. It’s opposite a door with a window in the upper half.”
Must be a good-sized knothole, Casey thought. How much time had he spent looking through it? “Do you often garden at night, Gil?”
“No, but my parents will be back from Arizona soon. I’m supposed to have all the gardens ready for planting and the lawn mowed by then, and I’ve kind of put it off.” He shrugged.
Gil zeroed in on her boobs again, but Casey didn’t mind. It was a small price to pay for crucial information. If he’d witnessed the murder, she’d toss him her bra and throw in a belly dance.
“Gil, did the woman look in her seventies?” Rhonda asked.
“I only saw the back of her, but she didn’t dress old. She was in some sort of blue sparkly outfit with a matching hat.”
Rhonda’s eyes narrowed. “What was the woman doing? Did you see her hair color?”
“She was standing and talking, and her hair was either really short or pushed up under the hat ’cause I didn’t see it.”
Casey knew what Rhonda was thinking: the woman could have been a lover. She wanted to ask Gil if he’d seen them embrace, but Rhonda was developing a pout.
“Too bad you didn’t see the woman’s car,” Casey said.
“I can only see his driveway from my bedroom upstairs. Anyway, I gave up on the stupid garden pretty quick, then went inside and cranked up the music. Crashed about eleven-thirty.” He glanced at Casey’s breasts again. “I did look out the window once, but the car was gone. Must’ve left while I had the music on. Didn’t hear an engine start.”
“Can you see into the room with the books from your bedroom window?” Casey asked.
“Angle’s too sharp, but when I closed my drapes I saw that the lights were out. Didn’t think in a million years anyone was dead in there.” He tucked strands of hair behind his ears.
Rhonda fidgeted. “Had you seen the woman before?”
“Nah. Didn’t see him around much either. No parties, loud music, not even a barbecue.”
“Did you tell the police about the woman?”
“Uh-huh. They came in and looked out the window, tracked freakin’ dirt all over the carpets.”
Casey sighed. What else had Lalonde not bothered to tell her?
Five
CASEY STEPPED OUT of her Tercel and glanced at the back of Mainland Public Transport’s admin building. The drab gray paint and two floors of narrow, paned windows always reminded her of a warehouse rather than an office building.
On her way to the entrance, she heard three-hundred horsepower engines starting up in the yard behind her. Most people couldn’t bear the smell of diesel fuel, but to Casey it meant paychecks, friendships, and busy-ness. In summer, when the windows were open, the yard was noisy, but she didn’t mind. The atmosphere was more informal than downtown’s tinted-glass towers with talking elevators. Here, people used the stairs and talked to one another.
She’d barely entered the building when a man’s loud curses caught her attention. They came from the ladies’ locker room farther down the corridor. Casey pushed the door open and nearly stepped on scattered makeup, magazines, and clothing. Sickly sweet perfume from a broken bottle seeped into a pair of socks. Hands on hips, Stan stood in front of a group of open lockers.
“It looks like some moron used bolt cutters on five padlocks, including yours,” he said. “See if anything’s missing. The cops will be here, eventually.”
“Any idea when it happened?”
“Between two and five this morning. Janitors found the mess when they showed up. They might have scared the freak off. The men’s room wasn’t touched.”
Casey picked up the black garter belt and stockings she wore yesterday.
“Aside from this, how are you doin’, kiddo? Any leads on your dad’s killer?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Did they get hold of that woman?”
Casey shoved the lingerie in her locker. “How did you know about her?”
“I overheard the detectives yakking about some lady who saw your dad the night he died.”
“Did they happen to mention a name or description?”
“Not that I heard.”
Casey dumped her bag on top of the stockings. “Everything’s here and none of it’s valuable, so I’d better get going.”
“I’ll have new locks put on today.”
“Thanks.”
She was jogging toward the M15 when she heard a familiar voice calling her. She turned and saw Lou running to catch up.
“Hey, gorgeous,” he said, slowing to a stop. “You running to catch a bus or preparing to leap over one?” Lou’s gray eyes shone over a pair of dimples and a sweet smile.
“I’m trying to be on time.”
He gazed at her outfit. “Let me guess, high-powered executive, right?”
“And purse thief target.” She stopped to tuck in her blouse.
“I heard you left early yesterday.”
“I did, but came back around quarter to five to read up on this assignment. You were gone by then. Anyway, I have news that only a horror fan like you can appreciate.”
“Oh?”
Casey put her arm around Lou, something she’d caught herself doing a lot lately. Lou returned the gesture. Rhonda thought Lou was in love with her, but Casey didn’t think so. She and Lou had been friends for years and he’d never even hit on her. Sure, they’d gone to pubs, shared tons of pizzas, and seen the occasional movie together, but he’d never asked her on a real date. Lou had had his share of girlfriends, but she’d noticed that he looked more intensely at her lately. Did it really matter, though? She wasn’t good relationship material, but neither was Mother, and if there was a person Casey didn’t want to emulate, it was her mother.
“You want to talk about it at my place tonight?” Lou asked. “I’ve restocked the Coors.”
“Casey, hurry up!” A wall of hairy, freckled flesh shouted from the M15 bus. “We’re late.”
She started for the bus. “How about I give you a lift to bowling tomorrow? We can talk on the way down, because tonight I’ve got to see a house, which is part of my news.”
“That doesn’t sound so terrible.”
“It is, trust me.”
“Can you give me a hint?”
Casey thought about it. “Resurrection.”
“Good word, but I have no idea what you mean.” He rubbed his chin. “Before I forget, I’ve got two sets of tickets, one for a new blues singer and the other for the Canucks, nosebleed section. Which would you rather see?”
“You’re joking, right? It’s the playoffs!”
He laughed. “Just checking.”
“So, who will you take to the blues thing?”
“Mom. The tickets are another birthday present from her anyhow.”
Casey always had liked Lou’s eclectic tastes and an energy for life as strong as Dad’s had been. When her marriage ended, Lou was one of the few people who hadn’t said, “I never liked Greg.” In fact, he and Greg had been buddies until they got into a fight after Casey ended the marriage. She’d been too busy feeling sorry for herself to
