“Sure. See you in a bit.”
Casey followed Denver up the walkway, curious to see the twins’ reaction to him. She hoped he would put them in their place, a place so low they’d have to look way up just to see the sole of her damn running shoe.
She stood behind Denver as he knocked on the door. One of the sheets flickered, but no one answered. Rap music still blared from the neighbor’s place. Denver started to knock again, when the door cracked open and revealed Paige’s pensive face staring up at him.
“Good evening,” Denver said. “Are you Paige or Lara?”
“Paige,” she mumbled.
“I’d like to speak with you and your parents.”
Paige stepped onto the stoop, quietly shutting the door behind her.
Casey stepped out from behind Denver. “I met your friends.” Under the dim porch light, the girl’s skin took on a greenish hue. “You invited me here to meet them, remember? Where’s Lara? Constable Davies wants to chat with her too.”
“Why?” Paige’s hushed tone sounded desperate.
“Miss Holland’s life was threatened by someone who stated that it was your idea to do so,” Denver answered.
“What? Mine? No! That’s bullshit.”
“I’d like to speak to your sister and parents,” Denver said. “Now, please.”
“Lara’s helping Mom get ready for bed,” she answered. “My mom’s sick, and Dad’s been gone for years.”
“What’s wrong with her?” Denver asked.
“Parkinson’s, and she’s gettin’ the flu.”
“This is important. I won’t keep her more than five minutes,” he said. “Let’s get on with it.”
Paige looked as if she’d just swallowed something bitter. “Wait here.”
As she stepped inside, a sandpapery voice yelled, “Who the hell’s at the door?”
“Constable Davies with the Vancouver Police,” Denver called out, holding the door open. “I’d like to speak to you and your daughters a moment, please, Mrs. Wiecz.”
“What now?” The obese woman waddled into the living room, wearing the pink robe with the same stain Casey had seen nearly two weeks ago. Mrs. Wiecz’s head trembled slightly as she blinked at Denver and Casey, then sat down.
“Lara, get your ass in here and light me a smoke,” she called out.
Casey and Denver exchanged glances. The woman didn’t look or act like she had the flu. Lara entered the room, her cheeks flushed and her expression defiant as she ignored everyone but her mother. She placed the smoke in Mrs. Wiecz’s shaky hand and set a large amber ashtray in her lap. Mrs. Wiecz raised her trembling hand to her lips and took a long drag.
“You were here the other night, right?” she said as smoke whooshed out of her mouth and nose.
“I’m Casey Holland, from Mainland Public Transport. We spoke briefly on the phone.”
She peered at her daughters, then at Denver. “This can’t be good.”
“It isn’t,” Denver replied. “Someone just threatened Miss Holland with a knife in front of your property. The suspect claims that it was your daughters’ idea to scare Miss Holland.” He looked at each twin. “I’d like to know what the girls have to say about it.”
Mrs. Wiecz looked from Paige to Lara. “Well?” The twins exchanged furtive glances. “Tell him, Lara,” she ordered.
“We didn’t ask him to pull a knife on her,” Paige blurted.
“Miss Holland says your daughters invited her to meet their friends at your home,” Denver said. “These friends allegedly had information about the recent hit-and-run homicides.”
Mrs. Wiecz’s narrowing eyes zeroed in on Paige. “What do you know about that? And don’t lie, or you know what’ll happen.”
As Paige’s chubby cheeks darkened, Casey almost felt sorry for her.
“W-we just wanted her to leave us alone,” Paige said.
“She had no right to come here and spy on us!” Lara yelled.
Mrs. Wiecz grunted. “You were pissed off ’cause she phoned about you smoking, weren’t you, Lara?”
“She was supposed to be scared, not hurt. We didn’t know about a knife.” Lara glared at Casey. “You should have got suspended. It’s not fair! Any jerk with a little authority thinks they can get their way.”
“Lara, if you don’t learn how to deal with authority, you’ll be doomed to a life more miserable than what you’ve got now.” Mrs. Wiecz’s shaky hand tapped the cigarette. “Scaring and threatening people is stupid. I raised you better than that, so you’d better apologize to this lady.”
“Sorry,” Paige mumbled.
“Yeah. Sorry.” Lara nearly choked on the word.
Mrs. Wiecz released a long, wheezy sigh. “I know you girls are ashamed of me.” Her head bobbed. “But I’m way more ashamed of you right now.”
The twins looked at the floor.
“Do your contacts really have information from Eagle or not?” Casey asked Lara.
“Who’s Eagle?” Mrs. Wiecz asked.
“A possible witness in one of the hit and runs,” Denver answered.
“They don’t,” Paige said.
Denver looked from one twin to the other. “I just want to be clear. You two made up a story to entice Miss Holland here?”
The twins exchanged wary glances.
“Answer him, damn it!” their mother said.
“Yes,” Paige mumbled. “Are you going to arrest us?”
Denver turned to Casey. “Do you want to press charges?”
Casey didn’t plan to, but she wasn’t about to let the twins off that easily. “If the police hadn’t been there, I could have been seriously injured or even killed. I need to think this over.”
Denver gave the girls a stern look. “I don’t want any more trouble from you two, understand?”
Both girls nodded.
Mrs. Wiecz looked at her daughters. “You’re both grounded for a month. Now get to bed.”
“I have one more question,” Casey said. “Do either of you, or your friends, know anything about the disappearance of Danielle Carpenter?”
“No.” Paige answered.
“Nothing,” Lara agreed and followed her sister out of the room.
“I’ve tried to raise these girls right but being sick hasn’t helped,” Mrs. Wiecz said. “Their miserable father poisoned them with his temper. He left when the girls were twelve, which meant no more hitting, thank god. But no more paychecks either.” She slid the ashtray off her lap and onto the sofa cushion next to her. “Paige swallowed all the shit her father fed her about being no good till it damn near destroyed her. But Lara, well, she just got mad. Still is.”
“Has there been any child support?” Denver asked.
Her laughter was short and harsh. “Don’t even know where he is to get it. Too bad, too. Disability checks don’t go far.”
A little girl, about six years old, peeked around the corner. When she saw Casey, she vanished. No wonder the twins brought food home after every shift.
“Thank you for your time, Mrs. Wiecz,” Denver said, heading for the door.
“Please don’t arrest my girls,” she said to Casey. “I need them.”
“I won’t press charges,” Casey answered. “But they need to respect me and MPT’s rules.”
“I’ll make sure they do.”
Somehow that didn’t make Casey feel any better.
TWENTY-FIVE
CASEY PARKED IN FRONT OF her childhood home and took a calming breath. She didn’t really want to be here, reliving negative memories. Hard as she tried, though, she couldn’t stop the images of her parents’ arguments or of strangers traipsing out of Mother’s bedroom when she thought no one would be home for a while. And then the memories of Greg: learning about Tina from a work colleague and confronting Greg with anger and violence before walking out on her marriage.
At least Greg had kept his word about taking good care of the yard. The bushes had grown full and lush over the past four years, and the steps had bee
n painted. The frilly curtains hanging in the window must have been Tina’s idea. Greg had despised what he called “that silly frou-frou shit.”
A shiny, blue BMW SUV pulled up behind Casey. The door opened and a tiny woman with wavy, platinum hair stepped out. Dressed in a bright red skirt and matching coat, she looked like one of Santa’s helpers. The black umbrella and handbag were a nice touch.
The lady flashed a halogen smile and extended her arm. “Miss Holland?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Ellen Mueller.” She pumped Casey’s hand with surprising strength and turned to the property.
Casey saw little resemblance between mother and son. Morris clearly had some Asian features, like his eyes and nose, but Ellen was Caucasian. Her mouth seemed similar to her son’s, though, and Morris had the same slight build.
“This is a great first impression for a forty-five-year-old house,” Ellen remarked. “If the interior’s as nice it should be an easy sell.”
“I’m not sure about the interior. As I mentioned on the phone, I’ve been renting to a couple with a toddler and haven’t been inside in quite a while.”
“You should be doing periodic checks, dear. With all the grow-ops and meth labs around, you can’t be too careful. They won’t mind if I take a few pictures and measurements?”
“The husband is fine with it, but his wife won’t be too welcoming.” Casey scanned the windows to see if they were being watched. “She doesn’t want to move.”
The halogen smile returned. “Trust me, sweetie. I’ve dealt with all types. You have a key, I presume?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent. Are you up for this?”
“Sure.” More or less.
Casey followed Ellen up the wooden steps and onto the veranda that stretched the length of the house. Ellen collapsed her umbrella and used the gleaming brass knocker. When deep, angry barks erupted inside, she jumped back.
“You didn’t mention a dog.”
“I didn’t know they had one.”
“He sounds big.” Ellen bit her lower lip as she glanced at the door. “Do you allow pets?”
“I’ve never thought about it.” Tenant agreement forms hadn’t been on her mind when she and Greg split up. She hoped the dog hadn’t torn up the place. Casey tried the knocker again.
“Do you think the lady of the house is in?” Ellen asked.
“Probably. She’s unemployed, and I doubt she would want me entering the place in her absence.”
“A big dog and a little child sound like a dangerous combination.”
“Do you have kids or pets?” Casey asked.
“Two kids, but I would never have anything that carries fleas in my home.”
On the other side of the door, a woman yelled, “Quiet, Bear!”
Ellen retreated behind Casey. The deadbolt clicked, and the door opened just enough for an enormous, furry black head to poke through. Ellen gasped. Casey had no idea what breed he was, but “Bear” suited him. Opening the door wider, Tina seemed oblivious to the dog’s growl, but intimidation could have been part of her plan.
“Morning, Tina,” Casey said. “My real estate agent would like to see the house.”
Without makeup, Tina looked haggard and her complexion mottled. “Whatever.” Her voice was two degrees below frosty. She shuffled backward in bunny slippers that apparently doubled as Bear’s chew toys. An eye was missing from the left slipper. On the right, a torn ear barely held together.
Stepping inside, Casey grimaced at the stink of dirty diapers, curry, and wet dog. Ellen choked a bit, then cleared her throat.
As the dog moved closer to them, Tina grabbed his collar. “Sit, Bear.” She turned to Ellen. “I haven’t had time to clean.” She shrugged as if she couldn’t care less.
“That’s fine. I just need a quick peek to assess room size and features.”
“Do you want us to remove our shoes?” Casey asked.
“Suit yourself.”
Casey kept hers on, noting that Ellen did the same.
“Let’s start with the living room, shall we?” Ellen stepped through the entryway on their left and nearly tripped over a rubber duck.
Casey grimaced when she saw the badly scratched hardwood floor. Even before she’d married Greg, he’d warned her that, except for leaky plumbing and other fix-it jobs, the inside of the house would be her domain. She had done most of the cleaning and cooking for her father anyway, so the arrangement hadn’t been a big deal.
Obviously Tina didn’t take the same care.
More toys were scattered over the floor and furniture. Lego cluttered the yellow and orange area rug. A rolled up diaper sat under the coffee table. Had Tina left it there on purpose? Bear jogged through the room and picked up what was left of a mangled rawhide bone.
“How many kids do you have?” Ellen asked.
“One, and another on the way.”
Surprise flashed across Ellen’s face. “Your little one’s lucky to have so many toys.”
“All of his grandparents spoil him.” Tina glanced at Casey, who ignored the jab.
Greg’s parents had been desperate for grandkids from the moment Casey walked down the aisle. They eventually concluded that the absence of grandchildren was her fault.
“This is a nice, large room,” Ellen remarked. “Plenty of light. Very lively.”
Casey thought she heard a hint of sarcasm, but the chunky, bright blue sofa and red chair probably didn’t suit Ellen’s taste. It definitely wasn’t Casey’s idea of style. Although she had agreed to let Greg rent the house, she hadn’t let him keep the furniture. She’d wanted to show everyone at work that she had no hard feelings about their split-up, but she hadn’t felt overly generous toward the two-timing jerk either.
“You painted the walls,” Casey remarked. “Is that Dijon yellow?”
“Venetian dawn.” Another layer of frost in Tina’s tone. “It makes the room much cozier than it was.”
Casey looked at the dirty orange rug. God, it was like living in a giant toy box.
“I’d say this room is about twelve by fourteen.” Ellen put on a pair of silver-framed glasses, then jotted numbers on her clipboard. “A house this size must have a dining room?”
Tina marched to the door at the far end of the room. Upon entering the dining room, Casey’s mouth fell open. The walls and ceiling had been painted ketchup red. Was Tina’s color scheme some sort of bizarre tribute to condiments? The clashing pink tablecloth thrown over the oblong table was littered with papers and envelopes. Judging from the familiar logos, most were bills. A newspaper was open at the For Rent page.
“About twelve by twelve,” Ellen murmured, writing the numbers down.
A child began to cry.
“Oh, Joshie’s awake,” Tina said, rushing out of the room.
Bear started to follow her, then stopped.
“Go get your mommy, big boy.” Ellen waved him away. “Shoo!”
When the dog trotted out of the room, Ellen shut the door and peered at Casey over the top of her glasses. “Dare we see what she’s done to the kitchen?”
“Let’s hope it’s not relish green.”
Ellen snickered as she followed Casey into a room that hadn’t changed in fifteen years. Casey remembered when she and Dad tore up the red linoleum. The maple cupboards and ivory walls were still here, though now dull and stained in places. This was where she and Dad had spent most of their time together. It felt like a lifetime ago.
“The lady has some taste, after all,” Ellen murmured. “Though the walls need fresh paint.”
“My dad and I decorated this room,” Casey replied. “We had a lot of talks in here, mostly about how I should try harder at school and date more responsible boys. Of course, I never listened.” She smiled. “Do your kids listen to you?”
“My son does, but my daughter’s another story. She’s obsessed with ridiculously overpriced clothes and immature wimps.”
Like Eagle? “Don’t boys obsess abo
ut girls and cars?”
“My son’s interests are broader than that.” Ellen opened a closet, causing two brooms and a chest-high pile of plastic grocery bags to tumble out. “Oh look, an indoor dumpster.”
“You must have a well-rounded son.”
“Absolutely. Morris has always been mad about sports and chess.” Ellen shoved the bags and brooms back, then shut the closet door. “His bedroom’s filled with awards.”
Now he was mad about street racing, which was a whole lot more thrilling than chess. How badly did Morris Mueller need to win, and how did he take it when he lost?
“I have a teenager at home, and she has a lot of trouble managing her time,” Casey said. “How does your son cope with so many activities?”
“He’s a born organizer.”
“Must be nice.”
“Pardon me for saying this, but you look far too young to have a teenager,” Ellen said.
“Thanks, but I’m just her legal guardian, and I wish she had your son’s organizational skills.”
“I trained him well.” Ellen wandered to the window above the kitchen sink and looked at the backyard. “That water fountain’s a liability.”
“What water fountain?” Casey opened the back door and gaped at a round cement monstrosity with two peeing cherubs. “Holy crap.”
“I should have known it wasn’t yours.”
Bear entered the room first, followed by Tina, who was carrying a fat, pouting toddler with Greg’s big jowls and eyes. When Casey smiled at the little boy, he turned his head away.
“You’re taking the fountain with you, right?” Casey asked.
“Of course, it was a present from my parents.” Tina kept her gaze on Casey. “This is our son, Josh.” The smug look on her face said, See what Greg and I made?
“My, isn’t he a chubby one,” Ellen remarked.
Casey smiled, truly grateful she wasn’t bound to Greg by kids. It was hard enough keeping him out of her life.
“Are there any more rooms on this floor?” Ellen asked, ignoring the toddler.
“My father’s office was just off the kitchen.”
Casey crossed the room, opened another door, and stepped into laundry chaos. Heaping baskets of clothes sat next to a card table. More clothes were piled on folding chairs. A sewing machine sat in a corner of the room. Next to it, bolts of fabric leaned out of plastic bins. Apparently Josh didn’t like the mess either because he started to scream.
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