The Opposite of Dark (5 page)

“Lillian didn't attract trouble, she sought it out. That's partly what made her so interesting.”

“She came from a corrupt family, Rhonda. Wasn't Mother's policy to run away before anyone asked questions?”

“Not always.” Rhonda picked at a blueberry. “Danger fascinated Lillian. In tenth grade, a classmate had a seizure in the science lab after school, and only Lillian and I were there.” Rhonda popped the berry in her mouth. “I went to get help, but Lillian wanted to watch.”

Casey turned left onto Venables. “Watching people suffer evolved into making them suffer. How many marriages did her affairs destroy? Six? Seven?”

“Five, but things worked out for some of us. Your dad and I fell in love.”

What about all the other families? “You sound awfully forgiving.”

“The older I get, the more I understand Lillian's instability.” She turned to Casey. “She needed men to feel alive. She couldn't control it. My lousy ex, on the other hand, could have controlled his lust if he'd wanted to.”

“Semantics.”

“I've known your mother since we were seven years old, sweetie. I knew her better than her folks and Marcus did. She's to be pitied, not hated.”

Maybe, maybe not. Minutes later, she drove across the Lions Gate Bridge, grateful for not having to use this aging three-lane structure often. Beautiful as West Van was, with its executive homes and panoramic views of ferries gliding back and forth, she preferred living among the wider variety of incomes, lifestyles, and ethnic backgrounds in East Vancouver.

By the time she reached Marine Drive, Casey found herself brooding over Dad again. Had he lived alone? Given his charm and looks, he should have found a lover. She glanced at Rhonda, who was trying to see beyond all the locked gates and tall hedges. The sky had lightened up enough to provide glimpses of elaborate, multi-level houses. Some were built closer down to the water, so only roofs and skylights were visible from the road.

“How could Marcus have afforded this area?” Rhonda murmured.

“Do we want to know?” Casey scanned house numbers posted on gates. “There it is, on the left.”

She pulled over and studied a two-story structure partially concealed by bushes bordering the property. Two police cruisers and a familiar Sebring were parked in front. Crap, what was Lalonde doing here so early?

“We'll never get inside now,” Rhonda said.

“This is waterfront property. There's probably beach access somewhere.”

Casey drove on until she spotted a footpath between two homes. She parked on the shoulder, four houses down from Dad's place.

When they reached the beach, Rhonda said, “Oh god, Marcus brought me here once. Showed me where he wanted to build his dream home.” She walked on.

While Casey picked her way along the narrow rocky beach, she remembered Dad saying that Rhonda made him feel good about himself, that he felt easy and relaxed around her. Why had everything changed?

“When did Dad bring you here?”

“A month after we got engaged. Then he got busy with work and we never came back.”

Five years ago. They'd never set a wedding date. Surely Dad wouldn't have faked his own death to avoid marriage. He'd ended relationships before, maturely and face-to-face. He wouldn't have run from Rhonda, would he?

Dad's trademark rectangular design was easy to spot. Homes on either side were varying levels and angles, but Dad had preferred straight, simple lines that critics had called boring. Truth was, he hadn't cared as much about exteriors as he had interiors. Casey studied the thirty-foot high cliff. Rocks and boulders provided a gradual incline. She hitched up her narrow skirt and began to climb.

“You can't be serious,” Rhonda said.

“I want a closer look at the house.”

The cold rocks were sprinkled with damp sand, pebbles, twigs, and the occasional beer can. By the time Casey reached the police tape along the perimeter, her hands were gritty.

Open, vertical blinds covered first-floor windows that ran the length of the house. Second-floor windows were exposed. The left half of the sloping roof was mostly skylight.

“Pull your skirt down,” Rhonda called from behind. “We're attracting attention.”

Casey spotted a guy leaning over the second-floor balcony of the house on their left. Brown, shoulder-length hair shielded most of his face. A moment later, she saw Lalonde strolling toward her. Damn.

“What are you doing here, Miss Holland?”

“Satisfying my curiosity.” She ducked under the tape and rubbed grit from her hands. “Do you always start this early?”

“There's been a break-in, and I got your message about the Saab.” He watched Rhonda climb up. “You should have called before you went after him.”

“There wasn't time,” she mumbled, so Rhonda couldn't hear.

“What if he hadn't driven away, Miss Holland? What would you have done?”

“Casey, help.” Clinging to a boulder, Rhonda struggled to climb onto the property.

After Casey hauled her up, Rhonda extended her hand to Lalonde. “I'm Rhonda Stubbs, Casey's friend.”

“Lalonde.”

She lowered her hand. “You're the one who made her go to the morgue.”

Lalonde stared at her.

“Have you been able to tell if anything was stolen?” Casey asked.

“So far, everything looks exactly as we left it. The neighbor next door woke early and heard a loud noise about an hour ago, so he called us.” Lalonde nodded toward the guy on the deck. “It looks like someone took a hammer to the window pane in the door on the neighbor's side.”

“There's no alarm system?” Casey asked.

“It's been sabotaged.” He watched her. “Is this a return visit, by any chance?”

“First time. Okay if we look inside?”

“No, the crime lab technicians are still working.”

“Are they using portable lasers to look for fingerprints and threads?”

She'd never seen Lalonde smile before and wished he hadn't. His teeth were yellow and slightly crooked. “You a wannabe cop?”

“I'm working toward a criminology degree, and forensics interests me.” Dad had hoped she'd earn a degree, but Greg hadn't wanted a wife with more education than he had.

Lalonde looked at Rhonda. “Did you know the deceased?”

“Marcus was my fiancé, at least he was three years ago.” She shook her head. “We didn't know he was alive, Detective, I swear. I don't understand any of this.” Rhonda turned and wandered toward the house.

Lalonde signalled to an officer to go after her.

“Did your license check on the Saab turn up anything?” Casey asked.

“The car's been rented by a man named Theodore Ziegler from San Francisco. Your father's address book also shows a Geneva address for Mr. Ziegler as well as an email address.” Lalonde looked at her closely. “Is the name familiar?”

“No. Have you questioned him?”

“Ziegler's proving difficult to find. He hasn't checked into the hotel listed on the rental agreement or any others we've contacted so far, nor is he answering messages sent to the email address we found for him. If you see him again, call us immediately.” Lalonde watched Rhonda argue with the cop who was ushering her back to them.

“I just want a quick look through the window,” Rhonda said.

“I checked into your botulism story.” Lalonde retrieved his glasses and notepad. “I understand the alleged Mr. Holland didn't enter a hospital until his vision was already impaired. Also, he couldn't swallow and was partially paralyzed.” He peered at her over his glasses. “Any idea why he waited so long to get help?”

“No.” But she'd wondered the same thing.

“Marcus hated hospitals,” Rhonda said, rejoining them.

Lalonde consulted his notes. “A woman named Simone Archambault was also affected, although her symptoms weren't as severe. She went to a hospital outside Paris, which could be why your lawyers didn't know about her, Miss Holland.”

Casey noticed Rhonda's frown. Another woman in Dad's life wouldn't be welcome news.

“Does that name mean anything to either of you?”

“Not at all,” Casey replied.

Rhonda shook her head. “Did she survive?”

“Yes, it seems she told the medical staff what was wrong with her. After her recovery, Miss Archambault left France, then vanished. Relatives haven't heard from her in two years, though they did say she used to live in Victoria.” Lalonde flipped a page. “They gave us a landline number, but we haven't been able to reach her. It seems she doesn't have a computer or a cell phone. Relatives said she's an eccentric who's been living off the grid. Local authorities are trying to track her down.”

“Dad had no friends or family in Victoria that I recall. He did have friends living in other areas of Vancouver Island, though; Ladysmith and Qualicum Beach, I think. Maybe she was a client.”

“Did you mention Marcus to the Archambault woman's relatives?” Rhonda asked Lalonde. “Do they know him?”

“They knew that she and a man in his fifties had shared the same table at Alvin's All-Canadian Café, but they claim to know nothing about him.” Lalonde looked at Krueger, who came to join them. “Also, the restaurant has new owners, and we haven't been able to locate any staff who worked there back then.”

“If I knew the family's address,” Casey said, “it might trigger a memory.” No point in adding that Simone Archambault's relatives might tell her more than they'd tell a cop.

“How old is this Simone woman?” Rhonda asked. “What'd she look like?”

Lalonde stared at her a moment, then flipped another page. “Seventy-five and petite.”

Casey and Rhonda exchanged perplexed looks.

“Ask Vincent Wilkes about her. He would have known Dad's clients and many of his contacts,” Casey said. “So, when will you guys be finished with the house?”

“My advice, Miss Holland, is to stay away until the killer's caught.” He turned to Krueger. “Escort these ladies off the premises.”

Casey fumed as she and Rhonda headed for the front yard. Hell, she hadn't asked for any of this to happen and she didn't deserve to be treated like gum on the bottom of his shoe. Krueger stayed with them until they reached the road.

As they started toward her car, Casey said, “Let's talk to the neighbor.”

The properties were divided by a high wooden fence. Casey had to ring the bell twice before the guy who'd been watching them from the deck opened the door. Up close, he was just a pimply teenager. While he gaped at Casey, he pulled up cotton gym shorts which promptly slumped back down onto narrow hips.

After introducing herself, Casey said, “The man who lived next door was my dad.”

“Oh.” He blushed. “Sorry about what happened.”

“Thanks, and this is my friend, Rhonda.”

He nodded. “I'm Gil.”

“Nice to meet you.” Casey watched his gaze slip to her breasts. “Listen, the cops won't tell me much and I was wondering if you heard anything the night my dad was killed. I was told it happened on Sunday between 8:00 and 10:00
PM
.”

“I—I, uh.” He tried for her face again, “I told them I heard a car pull into his driveway a little before eight.”

Interesting. “Did you see the car?”

“No.” He wiped his hand on his shirt. “Just a lady in the house.”

“What lady?” Rhonda asked.

“And where in the house?” Casey added.

“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.”