“They were evacuated before the smoke got too bad.”
“Any idea how it started?”
“Looks like someone smashed his window and threw a Molotov cocktail inside. Cops found a ladder on the ground. Gwyn’s here and he’s pissed. Asshole’s busy sharing suspicions about staff to the cops.”
“Just great.” Yet, Casey couldn’t ignore the possibility that Gwyn might be right. Did an employee hate him enough to send a dangerous message?
EIGHT
“There’s nothing in the budget for surveillance cameras, period, so get that out of your head.” Gwyn Maddox glared at Stan and the rest of the security team seated around the conference table. “You people will have to patrol the premises from eleven till six in the morning, 24-7, understand?”
Casey shifted in her chair. The extra shifts didn’t irritate her as much as Gwyn’s condescension toward Stan. Her boss was too good at his job and too highly regarded by his team to be treated this way. Stan’s stoic expression told Casey that he hated the idea of babysitting the building. She also knew he wouldn’t argue about it in front of his team. The two newer part-time guards, Wayne and Zoltan, shifted uncomfortably in their chairs. Anoop Verma gazed at the table while Marie returned Gwyn’s glare.
“There aren’t enough of us to work graveyard shifts and the hot zone,” Marie told Gwyn. “Isn’t it cheaper to hire temporary guards than pay us overtime?”
Casey hid her smile. Bringing up the budget was poking the bear. Surely Marie could see that Gwyn’s shiny bald head had already grown as pink as his round face; always a warning sign.
“That’s an issue for me and Stan, thank you very much. And I expect a guard here tonight.”
“What’s your endgame?” Stan asked. “If you want prevention, then graveyard patrols might work, but if you want the suspect caught, then a guard’s presence will only put him off.”
“Catching him is prevention.” Gwyn turned to the group. “Observing from darkened rooms in this building or sitting in one of the buses or your own cars should work. Call the cops when you spot someone behaving suspiciously. How hard can that be?”
Stan’s mouth disappeared between his beard and mustache. Casey had lost track of the times she’d seen him press his lips together to keep from saying something he’d regret.
“Maybe the suspect won’t be back,” Marie remarked. “The point’s been made, hasn’t it?”
An even darker shade flooded Gwyn’s face. “And what point is that, Mizz Crenshaw?”
Marie tucked strands of dark red hair behind her ear. “That someone doesn’t like Mainland Public Transport very much.”
Casey cringed. She could practically read the little bubble caption above Marie’s head saying, “And You.” Now would be a good time for her to shut up.
“Any idea who that someone might be?” Gwyn’s blue-green eyes glittered.
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
The only sound in the room was traffic noise on the other side of the window. Casey could almost feel the old grudges surface between those two. After learning of Marie’s role in the unionization bid, Gwyn had suspended her for a short period. She doubted that Marie had forgiven him for it.
Leaning back in the chair, Marie crossed her arms under her ample boobs. “Quite sure.”
“Gwyn and I discussed the possibility that the culprit might be the same guy who went after Benny,” Stan said. “Maybe one of those punks from the riot.”
Casey’s eyebrows rose. Did they really think that a maniac with a knife came to Burnaby to toss a Molotov cocktail through the president’s window? As much as she hated to admit it, a disgruntled employee—or ex-employee—was the likeliest candidate. It was no accident that Gwyn’s was the only office set ablaze. If a current employee was responsible, no one would turn him in, not with the strong camaraderie among staff, and the us versus him mentality.
“I didn’t get a chance to talk to Wesley and Ethan when they pulled in last night,” Gwyn said to Casey. “Ask them if they saw anything. Ethan’s working again this afternoon, so he should be here shortly.” He stood. “I’m late for a meeting with the damn insurance adjuster.”
Gwyn marched out of the room, slamming the door shut.
“Gee, I can’t imagine why anyone would want to torch Gwyn’s office,” Marie remarked.
The part-timers snickered. Anoop barely smiled.
Stan didn’t smile at all. “I need a volunteer for tonight, or should I just assign one of you? You’ll be paid above the usual rate.”
“I’ll do it,” Anoop offered.
“Thank you.”
At six-foot-two and a little on the stocky side, Anoop Verma would be an imposing figure were it not for the glasses and self-deprecating manner. Anoop was a sweet man who had a wife and child to support, and a post-secondary education to finish. He rarely turned down a chance to earn extra cash.
“I’ll come up with a schedule shortly,” Stan said.
He left the room, leaving the others to wonder who would be stuck with the graveyard shift after Anoop. Zoltan and Wayne didn’t look happy. Wayne was a retired custodian who simply wanted to earn a little extra cash. Nineteen-year-old Zoltan had worked at a gas station before he got this job, and had no clear career aspirations that she knew of. Given his overall apathy and laziness, Casey figured he wouldn’t last here much longer.
Following the group out of the conference room, she inhaled the lingering stench from last night’s conflagration. The conference room was midway between the security department at one end and Gwyn’s office at the other. Near Gwyn’s office, a stranger jotted notes on a clipboard while Gwyn stood nearby. Casey headed downstairs and strolled beside Marie toward the lunchroom.
“Think a coworker started the fire?” Marie murmured.
“Don’t know.”
“I’d be careful about questioning people.” Marie glanced up and down the corridor. “What with the attacks and the fire, some of them are paranoid.”
“I’ll go through the motions to keep Gwyn off my back, but I don’t expect or want anyone to tell me a thing.”
Marie moved closer to her. “What would you do if they did?”
“Don’t want to think about it.” And why was she asking?
“Best not to think about staff involvement at all. Remember what happened before.” Without waiting for a response, Marie headed inside the locker room.
Right. Like she needed that warning. After a security team member was murdered nearly three years ago, Gwyn had ordered Casey to question coworkers. The tension she’d created among colleagues took a long time to dissipate. She’d worked hard to regain their trust.
Peering into the lunchroom, Casey noticed that every window was open, presumably to clear out the smoky odor that had found its way down here. She glanced at glum faces but didn’t see Ethan among them. Casey continued down the corridor to view drivers’ schedules posted on a board near the dispatchers’ room.
She was studying Ethan’s schedule when she spotted him stepping out of the men’s locker room. Today his hair was tied in a single ponytail that trailed down his back and swung slightly as he marched to the exit.
“Ethan!” Casey jogged up to him. “How’s it going?”
“Shitty.”
Casey followed him outside. “What’s wrong?”
“I’ve got two gigs this weekend, which I booked off weeks ago, but my stupid supervisor’s making me work Saturday night.”
“I’d ask Lou to cover for you, but he’s already scheduled to drive.”
“I know, but thanks.” Ethan put on his sunglasses. “Why can’t they respect our schedules?”
“After what happened to Benny, there’s been a shortage of drivers. Too many sick calls.”
“Don’t blame ’em for calling in sick. Any idea how Benny’s doing?”
“I got in touch with his daughter Yvette this morning. He’s out of intensive care and in a regular ward now.”
“
Benny’s cool,” Ethan said. “He trained me, you know.”
“Me too. I used to be a driver.”
“No shit?”
Casey smiled. “I had my security license before I joined MPT to drive.”
“You drove? Why?”
“It was a break from security work, and my first husband was a driver here, so he encouraged me to give it a try.”
“Didn’t know you were married before.”
“Practically out of high school, which was way too young. It ended over five years ago.” She shrugged. “Anyway, I was working one night when a passenger came at me with a knife. Luckily, the defense training I’d taken kicked in, but the incident scared the hell out of me. I decided that drivers needed better protection, so I joined Stan’s team and taught the drivers some self-defense techniques. Unfortunately, the program died when Gwyn decided that drivers would have to take it on their own time, without pay.”
“That jerk has a lot to answer for.”
“No argument here.”
Ethan began strolling through staff parking. Casey walked with him, observing the far end of the admin building, where Gwyn’s office was located. Other than the tape cordoning off that side of the building, she couldn’t see any damage from this angle.
“Weird about last night, huh?” she said.
Ethan looked away, his jaw tightening. “Lots of weirdness happening lately.”
“Did you arrive at the yard before or after the fire started?”
“About five minutes before it went up.”
So he would have parked in the yard. “Notice anything strange?”
Ethan slowed his pace. “Now that you mention it, when I was getting off the bus I thought I saw someone over by the fence.” He nodded toward the eight-foot-high wooden fence on the west side of the yard, separating MPT from a flooring warehouse.
Casey studied the trees and overgrown bushes shielding most of the fence. “Lots of hiding spots there.”
She turned to the east side of the property, where a chain link fence paralleled the street. The sparse foliage offered few hiding spots.
“It was probably a moving branch,” Ethan added. “There was some wind.”
“Did you tell the police what you saw?” she asked.
“No. Like I said, I wasn’t sure.” He peered at her. “Gwyn thinks one of us torched his office, right? Who else would know where it is, or the best time to spray-paint the building without being seen?”
“Gwyn doesn’t know any more than the rest of us. He’s only guessing.”
Ethan frowned. “The bad blood between him and drivers was obvious my second week here.” He stepped onto the bus platform. “Time to roll. Try to make the gig, if you can, because I’ll be there no matter what.”
“Wish I could. Stay safe.”
The adjuster, accompanied by Gwyn, stepped outside. Both men made their way toward the cordoned-off area. Casey was on her way inside when she caught sight of someone crouching down between the cars. What the hell? She glanced around. No one else was nearby. Taking cautious steps, she moved closer as a familiar face popped up.
“Lawrence?” She hadn’t seen the Friends since that horrible night with Benny a week ago. “What are you doing here?”
He lowered his Nikon and adjusted his glasses. “We heard about the fire. I was hoping to take a photo.”
“Shouldn’t you be at school?”
“Dentist appointment. I’m going back after lunch.”
“You aren’t going to post those pictures on social media, are you?”
“Only on our private Facebook group. No one else can see them.”
“Are you sure?”
“Hedley started the group and keeps it protected.” Lawrence pointed to the pale blue van parked on the side street. “He gave me a ride.”
Craig Hedley leaned against the van and waved at Casey, who returned the gesture. She had no idea why the guy preferred to go by his last name, but she did know why he stayed by the van. The kid was once caught wandering through the admin building. After that incident, Gwyn banned all Friends from the property. At least Hedley respected the rules.
“The arsonist could be one of the haters on Facebook,” Lawrence said. “Have the police identified them yet?”
“No idea.” Casey watched Gwyn and the adjuster turn the corner and head down the side of the building, out of sight. “You know you’re not supposed to be on the premises, especially when the president’s here.”
“Sorry,” Lawrence mumbled. “But this is an unusual moment in MPT’s story that’s worth capturing.”
“I didn’t realize we had a story.”
“You do. It’ll be legendary one day.”
“If you say so. Come on.” She escorted him to the sidewalk.
“Hi,” she said to Hedley. “Heard you’re in college now. What are you studying?”
“Kinesiology.”
“Cool. Are you working this summer?”
He nodded. “Teaching fitness programs at kids’ camps and a couple of adult spin classes.”
“So, you’re getting paid for working out. Lucky you.”
He grinned. “It has its perks.”
Hedley’s closely cropped hair was much shorter than she remembered. Those green eyes were as vivid as ever, and the athletic build hadn’t changed.
“Brutal about the fire.” Hedley peered at the building. “Any idea who did it?”
“Not yet.” Even if she knew, she wouldn’t tell the Friends.
“You’ll figure it out before the cops,” he replied. “Word is you’re a good investigator.”
Whose word, she wondered, then decided she didn’t want to know. “Thanks, but I don’t think the cops want me doing their job. All we’re supposed to do is patrol this building at night from now until the culprit’s caught.”
Hedley grinned. “Good luck with that.”
“We could help keep an eye on things,” Lawrence said. “All of us, except Travis, live only a few minutes away, and school’s nearly done for the year.”
Hell no. She wished she hadn’t said anything. It’d be safer if these kids weren’t anywhere near the area.
“I appreciate that, but we’ve got it covered. Besides, your grad celebration’s this weekend. Have fun and forget about all this for a couple of days.”
Seeing Lawrence’s hesitant nod, Casey wondered if he’d take her advice.
NINE
Casey shivered on the M28 bus. The wind and rain had created an unusually low temperature this last Saturday in May. In fact, it seemed to have dropped a little more every hour. Poor Anoop was working the graveyard shift at MPT again. No one could fault him for wanting to stay inside as much as possible.
“Wesley, can you turn the heat on?”
“Come on, Casey. It’s not that bad in here.”
Enormous guys like Rude Wesley Axelson didn’t feel the cold that normal human beings did. Nor did he care if security personnel froze their butts off. Rubbing her arms, Casey strolled closer to Wesley.
It was after eleven and most of the passengers were high school students on their way to After Grad parties. Although the overwhelming majority of kids were driven to and from events and a tiny number rented limos, some teens rode the bus. Tonight, a couple of girls were still in their fancy dresses and sporting backpacks that probably contained casual clothes for the After Grad party.
“Got a question for ya,” she said to Wesley. “You were coming back around the time Gwyn’s office was torched, right?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“See anything interesting?”
“A friggin’ zoo. Firetrucks, cops, gawkers.”
“Did you happen to notice if any of the gawkers seemed a little too interested or happy about the chaos?”
Wesley glanced at her. “Gwyn wants you questioning staff, huh?”
She’d learned not to underestimate him, so his response wasn’t a surprise. “Not my idea, but if I don’t Gwyn’ll give me grief. He wants
to know if you and Ethan saw anything.”
“Tell the moron I didn’t see nothin’, which is true.”
Wesley stopped to pick up a man wearing the typical jeans, dark hoodie, and ball cap worn by guys of all ages in Metro Vancouver. Keeping his head lowered, the passenger started down the aisle. It took Casey two seconds to recognize Hedley. What on earth was he doing here? Wesley turned in his chair and frowned.
“Problem?” Casey asked, half expecting him to ask Hedley to leave. Wesley didn’t like the Friends, so they tried to avoid him.
“Thought I recognized that guy,” Wesley mumbled. “Don’t know from where, though.”
While Wesley merged into traffic, Casey strolled down the aisle until she reached Hedley midway down, across from the exit.
She slid in beside him. “Didn’t expect to see you two days in a row, and definitely not on an MPT bus.”
“My van broke down after I saw you yesterday, but I’d already committed to helping Travis and his dad fix their deck.”
“Sounds like it was a long day,” she remarked.
He shrugged. “They bought a lot of beer and pizza, so not all bad.”
Casey nodded. “You know that this driver’s not a fan of the Friends, right?”
“That’s why I pulled my hood up as soon as I saw him. Not my lucky night, nor yours, having to work on a Saturday,” he said.
“It happens.”
“With three security officers on duty and your supervisor driving the security vehicle tonight, MPT resources must be maxed out.”
Casey studied him. “How do you know how many of us are working?”
“Felicity.”
If she knew, then Del had probably hacked into their database to look at schedules. Gwyn would go ballistic if he found out.
“Have a good night,” Casey said, and headed toward the back of the bus.
Wesley reached the next stop. The five teenage girls now boarding made Casey think of Summer. She’d not only finished all of her chores today but had been cheerful about it. Over a shared pizza, she’d babbled about Stacy’s photoshoots and complained about her perfectionism. Summer had promised to help out Stacy again tonight, or so she said. Something about Summer’s animated banter had been off, like she was working too hard to make Casey think everything was perfectly normal. What was normal, though? Casey removed her phone from her pocket and called her.
The Blade Man Page 7
