The Opposite of Dark

by Debra Purdy Kong

  “How was Europe?” he asked, merging into traffic.

  “Lousy. I’ll tell you everything over beer and pizza.”

  “Could we eat in? I’m kind of tired.”

  “Sure.” She was amazed he’d managed a full shift at all.

  “I stayed over three times,” he said. “Summer seemed fine, and I never saw Darcy near her.”

  “Did you meet him?”

  “No, the guy was always out; big coincidence, huh?”

  “Yep, and he’s pretty much ignored Summer since he’s become involved with Rhonda.”

  “I figured that, yeah. So, now that you’re home, what’s your next move?”

  “A talk with Dad’s old associate, Vincent. After that I’m pulling the covers over my head and not coming out until the guilty parties are in jail.”

  “Parties? Meaning more than one?”

  “Sure, why not? I’ve learned that nothing about my family’s ever been simple and straightforward.”

  Her eyes filled again and she wanted to sink through the floor. Where was all this emotion coming from?

  Lou pulled into the depot and turned off the ignition. “What has you so upset?”

  She wiped her eyes. “The deception went much deeper and for much longer than I thought. Why wasn’t Dad straight with me?”

  “Lots of parents don’t want their kids to know about their dark side, or their failures, or things they’re ashamed of. I remember how mad Dad was with Mom for telling us about his mistress.”

  Lou’s parents had been divorced almost as long as Casey’s. Every year, he went to see his dad in Winnipeg. Every year, he came back out of sorts, fluctuating between love, anger, and pity. It usually took a couple of days to cheer him up.

  “Dad and I went through a lot of crap,” she said. “I really believed it was just the two of us sharing secrets and troubles and good times, until he and Rhonda hooked up. Turns out he and Mother had had this whole other life all along.”

  Lightning flashed. Thunder exploded and the rain that had been sprinkling the windshield became a deluge.

  “I talked to the security company,” Lou said. “No one’s tried to break into the house since the guard was attacked. I don’t get why someone had to destroy the floorboards, though.”

  Probably to look for three million bucks, but why choose that spot?

  “The alarm’s been installed,” Lou added, “and another guard’s patroling the grounds, which must be costing you a fortune.”

  “I’ll be discontinuing that. Did they catch the guy who beat up the first guard?”

  “No, but he’s the same maniac who ambushed me—tall guy with shaded glasses, wearing a hoodie.”

  Casey forgot to take a breath. “Were the guy’s lenses blue?”

  “It was too dark to tell, why?”

  “Did you see his hair?”

  “The hood covered it.” Lou winced as he got to his feet. “What’s up?”

  “Are you sure you’ve never seen Darcy? When we left for the airport, he was watching us from the porch.”

  “I don’t remember looking back.”

  The rain tapped the windows. It was the only sound she could hear.

  “Remember me telling you that I hit my attacker with the flashlight and never saw his face?”

  “What about it?”

  “When I met Darcy the next day, he’d claimed to have had knee surgery, and went down the stairs awkwardly. The knee seemed fine by the time I left for Europe. Darcy Churcott’s tall and he wears blue tinted glasses.”

  “Shit.” He shook his head. “I want to see this loser.”

  “Rhonda said your attacker spoke to you. What did he sound like?”

  “Gravelly voice.”

  Casey shivered. “It’s him.”

  “How does the jerk fit into this?”

  “He knows Theo Ziegler and he may want the money.”

  “What money?”

  “I’ll fill you in while we eat.”

  Lou put a comforting arm around her. “We’ll need evidence against this freak.”

  Casey nodded. “I gather you didn’t describe your assailant to Rhonda?”

  “No, she seems hyper-sensitive these days. I didn’t think I should go into detail.”

  “Good move. She really likes the sick bastard. I’ll call Lalonde.”

  Another bus pulled into the depot. Casey breathed in the familiar smells of diesel fumes. Someone shouted a greeting to a coworker and again her eyes filled with tears. She was home.

  Seventeen

  CASEY STOOD IN Vincent Wilkes’s humid kitchen and sipped a mug of coffee. She’d shown up unannounced to catch him off guard, and the plan had worked, more or less. Vincent was surprised all right, but he was also with a client in the work area upstairs; not something she’d anticipated on a Sunday. When she asked if she could wait, Vincent suggested she pour herself a coffee in the kitchen. He hadn’t looked happy to see her, but then Vincent and happiness

  had always been at odds. Or was there another reason he didn’t want her here?

  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.

  Eighteen

  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?”

  “Because he figured you wouldn’t believe the truth.”

  “Which is?”