The Opposite of Dark (19 page)

Casey tried to ignore the plate of congealed porridge and ketchup-streaked eggs by the sink. A large bowl of raw vegetables sat on the counter.

The room's pine decor hadn't changed in twenty years. Out of curiosity, she opened drawers in search of loose lining paper, but the drawers had no paper. What about Dad's old desk? Was evidence of illegal imports and exports still in there? Had Vincent given all of
TZ
Inc.'s files to Detective Lalonde, or had he held something back?

As Casey tiptoed down the hall, she thought about her chat with the great detective yesterday. She'd told Lalonde everything she'd learned about Dad's other life: the missing money, Gislinde Van Akker, Theo, and Darcy. Lalonde responded by lecturing her about taking unnecessary risks.

At the end of the hall, Casey opened the door and entered the stifling heat of lizard-land. Reluctant to look at the creatures, she marched straight to Dad's old desk and sat down. While she listened to the faint sound of voices upstairs, she removed her jacket.

There weren't many files and the labels meant nothing. By the time she'd thumbed through the first half dozen, her focus was drifting to yesterday's unsettling chat with Rhonda. Since Lalonde hadn't yet arrested Darcy on assault charges, Casey felt she had to warn Rhonda about him. Unfortunately, Rhonda hadn't wanted to hear anything bad about him. In two weeks, she'd gone from searching the man's things to believing she had a real relationship with the scumbag. Casey had tried to reason with her, but Rhonda had told her to stop accusing Darcy without solid proof. Refusing to stay in the house with him, Casey spent last night on Lou's couch. He'd wanted her to take the bed, but she'd declined his offer. And he hadn't suggested sharing it. Just as well.

Her other worry was Simone Archambault. Casey was still waiting to hear from her, and the longer she waited, the more worried she became. She'd pop by her apartment today to see if Simone had left a message there.

Casey finished with the files and closed the bottom drawer. When she sat up she found herself staring at an enormous iguana lumbering toward her. She jumped out of the chair.

“Woah, where did you come from?” She sidestepped to the end of the desk. God, he must have been sleeping or something in front of the easy chairs. “Hi, Sydney, aren't you a big boy.”

Nearly six feet long, the beast was a grayish-green color that was dull compared to the vibrant green of the babies she'd seen earlier. Dark bands added a sinister appearance to the tail that swished back and forth. The monster lifted his head higher.

“Nice, Sydney.” She glanced at the closed door. “Pretty boy.”

His claws looked lethal. The beast lowered his head and raised it again. Oh lord, how fast were these beasts when they attacked? Could she make it to the door? The iguana moved toward the front of the desk. Casey retreated to the chair. The sound of footsteps heading down the stairs allowed her to breathe again.

“Come on, Vincent,” she mumbled, “hurry up.”

She heard Vincent thank the client for coming by and the client's reply fade. The front door closed.

“Vincent, I'm in here,” Casey called out, and tried to appear nonchalant as he opened the door.

“Oh, I see you met Sydney,” he said.

“Yes, any other pets wandering around?”

“No.”

Sydney lumbered out of the room and down the hall. Mercifully, Vincent shut the door after him, then turned and looked at Casey. His black dress pants and shirt made him look thinner than ever.

“I'm afraid I don't have much time. I have to leave for a family dinner soon.”

“Sorry, Vincent, I didn't realize you'd be so busy on a Sunday.”

“I'm usually not, but it was my client's only free day.”

Casey moved to the visitor's chair while Vincent took his place behind the desk. He seemed shaky. Was it because of his
MS
or the client, or her visit? The man didn't look strong enough to whack someone fifty or sixty times with a meat cleaver. Besides, Darcy Churcott had soared to top spot on her suspect list.

“I didn't get a chance to see Mother in Europe, but I met Theo Ziegler. What I need to know from you is if Mother's involved in importing illegal or stolen goods for Ziegler.”

“I already told you—no, not that I'm aware of.”

She stared at him. “Vincent?”

“All right,” he sighed, “I think some of their clients were criminals, but neither Marcus nor Lillian ever hinted at moving stolen or illegal merchandise.”

“Did Dad ever mention two Mexican clients named Joseph and Carlos?”

“I remember him dealing with a couple of guys from Mexico, but I don't remember the details.”

“Then they haven't come here, asking you about some money Dad owed him?”

“No,” Vincent frowned. “Why?”

“First, do you know the name Darcy Churcott?”

Vincent sat back in the chair. “He was involved in the import business, but I'm not sure in what capacity. I do know that Marcus thought he was bastard with a real mean streak. I heard him have words on the phone with Churcott a couple of times.”

Great, just great. Casey's stomach began to flutter. “Ziegler told me that Osterman was the anti-social mean one.”

Vincent shrugged and clasped his hands together. “All I know is that Marcus and Lillian liked him.”

“Or Ziegler lied.”

“He might be involved in some illegal activity.” Vincent gazed at the snake cages beneath the window. “I think Marcus knew it and wanted to break with him, but I'm basing this entirely on bits of overheard conversations. Neither of your parents ever discussed this with me directly.”

Or was he trying to protect his own ass? Casey heard a noise at the door. Oh geez, maybe Sydney wanted in again. “Vincent, did you give Detective Lalonde everything you had on
TZ
Inc., or are there more documents somewhere?”

“I gave him everything, though I'm not sure Lalonde believed me because he hinted about coming back with a search warrant, which he hasn't yet.”

Casey stood and picked up her jacket. “The Marine Drive house was robbed and vandalized while I was away. I'm going to check the damage.”

Vincent got to his feet. “That's awful.”

“Oh, and one more thing,” she watched him a few seconds. “Did you know that Dad had access to three million dollars in cash from his import business?”

His eyes bulged as he leaned on the desk. “And he didn't put any of it into our firm?”

“It seems so. There's disagreement about who the money belongs to. Ziegler thinks Dad was murdered for it by these Mexicans, Carlos and Joseph, but I have my doubts.”

Vincent ambled to the door. “Where's the money now?”

“No one knows, but I think that's why the house was ransacked. Maybe the thief found it.”

“This place was broken into last year.”

“Really?”

“I nearly caught the guy once, spotted him bolting out the back when I opened the front door.” Vincent leaned against the door. “For a moment, I thought he was Marcus. Guess that doesn't seem so strange now.”

“Did you call the police?”

“No, nothing was taken. I drove to Marine Drive, though, to see if he was actually alive.”

“And?”

“No one was there and I was too busy to chase ghosts.” He gazed at the floor. “Funny thing, though. Twice I've had the feeling someone's been here while I was out. Sydney would be agitated, and the place somehow felt a little different.”

“Maybe somebody found a way to deactivate your alarm. Do you keep a consistent routine?”

“Pretty much. Grocery shopping on Saturdays, Sunday dinner with my folks.”

As he opened the door Casey stepped back, but Sydney wasn't there. She entered the hallway and spotted the monster heading for the kitchen.

“Thanks for seeing me, Vincent.”

Forty minutes later, Casey was showing a security guard her
ID
and asking to enter the house. The wary guard called his boss. After Casey informed the boss that she no longer needed security personnel, the guard showed her how to operate the new alarm, then left.

Without furniture, the rooms looked larger, the floors and walls dirtier. The living room floor would need replacing. Damaged boards were scattered around a four-foot-wide hole. Stepping up to the hole, she looked down at more debris and a few hand tools. Maybe the vandal wasn't finished.

Casey's footsteps echoed across the hardwood floor and into the dining room. This floor hadn't been touched, or the one in the kitchen.

Upstairs, all that remained were dying plants, silk flowers, and trees. Casey wandered through the atrium and into Dad's now empty bedroom, noting the en suite bathroom and the closet. She strolled to the French doors at the far end of the room and looked at the ocean.

A sailboat bobbed in front of the house, its green and white sails flimsy against all that water. Casey reflected on the violence that had occurred in this house and thought about Darcy. Absorbed in her thoughts, she only heard the footsteps when they were almost at the bedroom door. The clicking heels told her this wasn't a man. Casey's heart pounded, adrenalin surged, and her face grew warm as Mother sauntered into the room.

WHAT IN HELL
was Mother doing here? Casey's mouth grew dry as she watched her come closer. It was hard to tell which was more shocking, the tears in Mother's eyes or her youthful appearance. Her hair was the same light gold Casey remembered and, judging from the clingy pink dress, she'd scarcely gained any weight. Pear-shaped diamonds covered her earlobes. She didn't look like anyone's mother. And she sure didn't feel like calling her “mom.”

Lillian removed a tissue from her handbag and dabbed her eyes. As she looked Casey up and down, Casey sucked in her stomach. She felt shabby in her navy slacks and jacket, a feeling she wasn't used to and didn't like. A few extra pounds around the middle were nothing to be ashamed of. She let her stomach muscles relax and took a deep yoga breath.

Lillian's glossy lips parted in a tentative smile. “Why did you color your lovely blond hair, Cassandra?”

“I go by Casey now, and I prefer brown to blond.” She shoved her hands in her pockets to hide the shaking. “What are you doing here?”

“Vincent phoned. He knows I've been concerned about you.”

“He didn't tell me you were back in Vancouver.”

“I asked him not to.” Lillian swept her hand along the marble mantle above the fireplace. “This is a Marcus house, isn't it? Large rooms, no hallways, plenty of natural light.”

Casey's fingernails dug into her palms. “Are you here to look for three million dollars?”

A bold smile this time. “All these years apart and you ask about money? You really are a Holland.”

Casey didn't appreciate the insinuation. “Are you here by yourself?”

“Yes.” Lillian watched her. “Do you know who trashed the living room floor, and why?”

“I have a theory about the person responsible, and I think it's about the missing three million dollars, right?” She wouldn't be surprised if Darcy's treasure hunt had taken him to her locker at work. “Did Theo talk to you about Rhonda and Summer?”

“Yes.”

“Then you'll leave them alone? Rhonda doesn't know anything about the money and there's absolutely no reason to hurt Summer.”

“I never had any real intention of telling that poor child the truth about her birth mother. I simply wanted to shake Rhonda up, to let her know that telling the truth is important.”

Casey stared. “So, you think that truth is important, huh?”

“I do. You see, I doubt Rhonda's told you that she knows more about Marcus than she wants to you think.”

The remark soared at Casey like an arrow made of ice.

“I'm sure she claims to have known nothing about this house or its occupant,” Lillian went on. “But ask her to show you a two-month-old snapshot of the man she thought was Marcus. Knowing her as well as I do, I bet she still has it.”

Casey couldn't hear this right now, didn't want to discuss Rhonda when more crucial issues were at stake. “Do you know Darcy Churcott?”

Lillian's violet eyes didn't blink. “He works for Theo, why?”

Casey tilted her head back and looked at the ceiling. “I should have guessed.” No wonder Theo wouldn't tell her much about him. “He's renting a room in our home. Was that Darcy's or Theo's idea?”

“Darcy's. He believes you've known where the money is all along. I convinced him that you didn't know anything. Marcus wouldn't have dumped that kind of trouble on you.”

“So, Darcy decided to go on his own treasure hunt while I was away and tear up the damn house, right?” Not to mention her apartment.

“It appears so.”

“Then why did Theo tell me that two Mexican clients killed Dad for the money?”