The Opposite of Dark

by Debra Purdy Kong

  “The evidence only points to one other person, besides Gustaf Osterman, in the house that night. That person was a woman.”

  “What’d you find?” Ignoring her, Lalonde joined Krueger at the window. “Come on, Detective. I promise this stays between us.”

  “A blue sequin,” he answered, turning to her. “The blood pattern we found on a cupboard door could have come from a dress or formal gown. Not too many men would wear blue-sequined gowns to commit a murder.”

  “Do you really think Rhonda owns a gown? Look in her drawers and closet some time, and then take a good look at Gislinde Van Akker’s wardrobe. By the way, weren’t you supposed to have someone watching this place tonight?”

  “Arrangements were more complicated than expected.” Lalonde checked his watch. “He should be here shortly.”

  “Too little, too late,” Casey murmured.

  Lalonde’s eyes smoldered in that perpetually grim face. “You claimed you saw Theodore Ziegler running from here. Are you certain it was him?”

  “Yes.” She turned to watch the activity outside.

  “Have you any idea where Darcy Churcott might be?” Lalonde asked.

  “Ask my mother. I hear she knows a lot about what’s going on.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Vincent Wilkes, Theo, and Gislinde Van Akker.”

  A chunky, slightly stooped man entered the room. “Looks like the lady was dead before she got here.”

  Lalonde turned to Casey. “If this was a message for you, I’d pay attention.” He and Krueger followed the man outside.

  Casey continued to watch the police work until she noticed that she too was being observed. Beyond the yellow tape now stretched in front of the house, spectators had gathered. One of them pointed at her.

  Casey retreated to her apartment and kept the lights off. Part of her wanted to seek the safety and comfort of her bed, but she couldn’t sleep. The image of Simone on the porch would probably stay in her head forever. She wished she wasn’t here, in this house, but she couldn’t leave Rhonda.

  Casey heard Rhonda’s footsteps below. She was probably peeking out the window, her groggy mind trying to connect the dots. She’d have to see her soon and explain why there was a body hanging on the front porch.

  Casey sat on the cushioned seat in the bay window. Was Simone killed because of something she knew, like the money’s location? If the killer had found the three million or at least knew where it was, she doubted he would have taken the time to dump Simone’s body here. All that cash was still out there somewhere, and it was now becoming clear that no one would be safe until the killer found it and left town. But what if she found the money first and handed it to Lalonde? What if Lalonde used it to bait the bastard? Her thoughts raced with the possibility of ending this thing once and for all.

  Twenty-two

  WHILE WESLEY MERGED the M8 into Broadway’s westbound traffic, Casey stifled another yawn. She sat in an aisle seat, her clutch bag easily visible to passengers. She’d thought about changing to a shoulder bag because the thief was used to taking them, but this bag would make his life easier. In hindsight, though, she realized it might also arouse suspicion.

  Casey closed her eyes a moment to ease the burning sensation that sleep deprivation had brought on. Every time she’d dozed off last night, the image of Simone snapped her awake. Letting go of the past wouldn’t happen simply because she’d told Lalonde everything, not after Simone’s murder, and certainly not now that she’d seen Mother.

  She couldn’t let tragedy devastate her like it had after Dad’s funeral. She was wiser now, more adept at handling loss and disappointment, and lately, the disappointments had been major. Rhonda should have told her about the ongoing communication with Mother; should have admitted she’d tried to confront the man she thought was Marcus.

  Casey opened her eyes and glanced at the fitness magazine she’d brought. She hadn’t wanted to work today, but Stan doubted the thief planned to stop for a national holiday. The sun was out on this warm Monday and the bus was half full. If the thief appeared, she hoped her speed and reflexes would measure up.

  “Why are you frowning at the magazine?” a familiar voice asked.

  Casey looked up and saw Theo watching her. Geez, how long had he been following her this time? She glanced at his hands and pockets for signs of weapons. Nothing. She’d love to slap a pair of handcuffs on the bastard, but if he resisted, passengers could be hurt. She scanned faces to see if she’d also missed the arrival of the purse thief.

  “I need to talk to you,” Theo said.

  “I’m working right now. Go away.”

  Two elderly women, both carrying large handbags, boarded the bus. Rather than use the seats reserved for seniors and the physically challenged at the front, the ladies chose a seat behind the center exit.

  Theo sat in front of Casey and turned around. “I saw what Darcy did on your porch last night,” he whispered.

  Darcy? But he wasn’t the one she saw. “I told you, this isn’t the time or place.”

  “Listen to me.” Theo leaned closer. “He’s on a rampage and you could be next.”

  A young guy climbed on board. His acne, full lips, ball cap, and a black and yellow backpack matched the perp’s description. The kid flashed his pass at Wesley and ambled down the aisle, glancing at every passenger. Wesley looked at Casey and nodded toward the boy.

  As the kid strolled past her, she pretended to read her magazine.

  “Simone was either unconscious or already dead before he got to your place,” Theo whispered.

  “I can’t deal with this now.”

  She removed a lipstick tube and mirror from her purse. While applying a layer, she watched the kid settle in an aisle seat three rows behind her.

  “Casey—”

  “You’re the only person I saw near the house, Theo.”

  “I was chasing Darcy. I saw him throw rocks at a window and followed him to the front, but then I saw the body on the porch. I stopped to see who it was and if she was still alive. By the time I took off again Darcy was too far ahead.”

  Yeah, sure. Right. “Mother said that Darcy works for you. You’re all on the same damn team.”

  “That’s what she wants you to think. Truth is, I fired Darcy six weeks ago. I had no idea he’d decided to keep looking for the money until you mentioned his name. I’m sorry, Casey.”

  Should she believe him? God knows Mother was more than capable of lying to pursue her own agenda. And Theo had seemed genuinely concerned when he learned about Darcy. Wesley slowed for the Cambie and Broadway stop.

  “Why did you fire him?”

  “He was becoming too aggressive.”

  “And violent?”

  “Yes.” Theo stared at her. “Darcy won’t stop the carnage until he gets the money. If you don’t find it he’ll go after Rhonda and her daughter, too.”

  “My purse!” a woman behind Casey yelled. “He took my purse!”

  A moment later, the kid with the black and yellow backpack was out the door and running.

  Casey bolted after him. “Stop! MPT security!”

  The file notes had said the suspect was fast. Big understatement. The kid didn’t look back. Theo charged past her and went after him. Dodging pedestrians, Casey followed the pair west on Broadway. Both turned a corner. By the time she reached the corner, they’d vanished.

  Hands on hips, Casey tilted her head back and took deep breaths. Stan wouldn’t be happy. Damn it, she shouldn’t have let Theo distract her. Fatigue had weakened her physically and mentally. She re-entered the bus on rubbery legs. Wesley, who wasn’t known for his compassion, was looking at the distraught victim and the woman she sat beside. Casey felt a swoosh of heat on her from embarrassment, and knew her cheeks were probably turning a gaudy shade of red.

  “Sorry,” she said to Wesley and the victim. “I couldn’t catch him.”

  “Yeah, well, the kid’s a regular track star. Cops are on their way and I’
m behind schedule, so stay with the lady, all right? She and her friend,” he nodded to the woman she sat beside, “want to get off.”

  “I need to call my son,” the victim said, dabbing her eyes.

  “Would you like my cell phone?” Casey asked.

  “You can use mine, Aggie,” her friend said.

  “Thank you.”

  Casey escorted the ladies off the bus and to a nearby bench. Holding Aggie’s hand, she apologized for what had happened.

  “It’s all right, dear,” Aggie replied. “It was all so fast. What could you have done?”

  Her embarrassment deepened. “Can I get you anything?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Are you with transit security?” her friend asked Casey.

  “Yes.”

  “Well then, you should have caught that delinquent.”

  “I tried, ma’am. I’m sorry.” She removed a notepad and pen from her pocket. “Could you each tell me what you saw? It would also be helpful to know what valuables were in the purse.”

  The ladies’ statements were brief and muddled. After Casey took their names and phone numbers, she handed each lady her business card should they need to contact MPT.

  “The police will create a file,” Casey said, “and will be your primary source of information. We’ll get the officer’s name when he or she arrives.”

  “I should call my son now,” Aggie said.

  Her friend handed her a cell phone. While the passenger made her call, Casey spotted Theo carrying a straw handbag and hurried up to him.

  “Impressive,” she said. “So, where’s the guy?”

  “He got away. Jerk saw me coming and dropped the bag.” He handed it to Aggie who disconnected her call and squealed with joy.

  “Thank you so much,” she said.

  “You’re welcome.” Theo stepped closer to Casey. “Do you have a few moments now?”

  “Thanks for doing that, and sure, we can talk.” If she kept him here until the police showed up, they could question him about Simone.

  “My wallet’s gone.” Aggie looked at Casey and Theo as if expecting them to produce it.

  “Okay, the police will be here any moment.” She and Theo stepped away from the women.

  “Are Rhonda and her daughter okay?” Theo asked. “Seeing Simone like that . . .”

  “Summer’s out of town and Rhonda’s surviving, secrets and all.”

  “Secrets?”

  “It seems my memories of growing up don’t have much to do with reality. The adults in my life, including Rhonda, kept a lot of important things from me, which is rather insulting, to put it mildly.”

  “What did Rhonda keep from you?”

  “That she and Mother have maintained something of a relationship all these years.” Casey glanced up and down Broadway. No sign of the police yet. “Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised; Rhonda was her childhood friend, after all. She saw Mother as strong, charismatic, and fearless—everything Rhonda wanted to be. She really tried to emulate Mother. Even dressed like her; wouldn’t leave the house without makeup and a pair of earrings.”

  “Lillian’s still strong and charismatic,” Theo remarked.

  Casey nodded. “Just after my parents were married, Rhonda got engaged and then pregnant right after Mother did. She bought a house two doors down from ours.”

  “Sounds cozy.”

  “Rhonda once told me that it was fun at first, until she kept having miscarriages and Mother started having affairs. Rhonda babysat me, and I know she provided alibis for some of Mother’s trysts.”

  “Why?”

  Casey glanced at the victim who was now on the phone. “I asked her that once. She’d said Mother had such a powerful hold on her there’d been no choice.”

  Somehow, this explanation didn’t quite fit anymore. Secrets seemed as prevalent with Rhonda as they were with Mother. The circumstances surrounding Summer’s birth had been hushed up. And she knew Rhonda had eavesdropped on tenants before. Secrets had helped Rhonda stay in control, just like Mother.

  “Their friendship ended when Mother slept with Rhonda’s husband,” Casey said. “After that, Rhonda focused more on me and Dad, and then Summer. Anyway, I just found out that Rhonda and Mother can’t seem to leave each other alone.”

  Casey told him about the letters and Mother’s desire to renew their friendship.

  “Sounds like they’re competing,” Theo said. “Lillian thrives on competition.”

  “Mother thrives on sex, power, and ambition. Rhonda just wants to be needed and loved.” She watched Theo survey the intersection. Better keep the man talking before he took off. “Think Darcy killed Gustaf too?”

  “I don’t know, but Lillian might.”

  “Why?”

  Theo studied pedestrians. “I told you she had someone new in her life. Unfortunately, it’s Darcy.”

  “Oh, just great.” Unless Theo was lying. Maybe Darcy was still on the payroll and simply taking orders. “Did he kill Simone for the money?”

  “Probably.”

  “So tell me, are these Mexican clients real or not?”

  When Theo didn’t respond, Casey pinched the skin on his wrist until he shook her off.

  “Have you been eating chocolate?” He rubbed his wrist.

  “Answer me.”

  “They’re real, but not dangerous, and there was no money owed to them.”

  “So, Dad kept the money from you, and when he died you had Gustaf Osterman take his place to find the cash and clients.”

  Theo’s long dark eyes examined her. “That must have been some talk with your mother.”

  “It was. Tough to figure out whose side she’s on.”

  “Lillian’s been trapped in the middle a long time, and believe me, she’s feeling it.”

  “She made her choices.”

  “As did Marcus.” Theo looked around and kept his voice low. “He’d been stealing clients and moonlighting months before I found out. Before we could settle things, Marcus got sick.”

  “The day of the funeral, his home and car were ransacked. Was that to find the notebook and money?” She watched Theo scan the street. “If you want my cooperation, then tell the truth.”

  “All right, yes, I sent Darcy over. He couldn’t find anything so I sent Gustaf to check out the Marine Drive place. He spent weeks going through files, personal papers, bank statements, cabinets, drawers—anything that might give him a clue. Eventually, he concluded that the information might have been at Marcus’s architectural firm. He broke in there once or twice, but again no luck.”

  “Who stole everything out of the Marine Drive house?”

  “Probably Darcy, the greedy bastard.”

  “Why did Gustaf stay at the house for more than three years? The search couldn’t have taken that long.”

  “Partly to wait for Marcus’s clients to come to him, which some did. But mainly because he was in trouble with two ex-wives and some associates. A new face and life in Vancouver solved his problems. Gustaf only planned to move to Amsterdam because of Gislinde’s pregnancy.”

  “You did a good job of creating a double.” Casey saw Aggie hand the phone back to her friend, then rummage through her handbag. “I heard he even sounded like Dad.”

  “Gustaf had a gift for impersonation, and he’d known Marcus for years. Their body type was similar and any differences were sculpted into shape.”

  “You mean Gustaf gained an appendectomy scar for Gislinde’s benefit?”

  “Yes. Dental records and fingerprints were left alone,” Theo said. “I figured if someone went that far to check him out, the game was over anyway.”

  Casey recalled Lalonde’s comments about a female suspect wearing a sequined gown.

  “Could one of the ex-wives have discovered Gustaf’s new life and gone after him?”

  Theo shook his head. “I verified that they and Gislinde Van Akker have alibis.”

  “Why does Gislinde have a bodyguard?”

  “Darc
y interrogated her about a month before Marcus’s death, and again before Gustaf died. The second time involved threats.”

  “Does she know the real identity of her fiancé?”

  “We’ve never discussed it, but I imagine so. Gustaf was supposed to break up with her once he became Marcus but, obviously, that didn’t happen.”

  “From what I’ve learned, Mother wouldn’t have approved of their relationship, since she was quite taken with Gustaf.”

  He attempted a smile. “Lillian thinks every man she meets falls in love with her and that she’s entitled to own them.”

  “Suppose Mother and Darcy believed Gustaf had finally found the money and they showed up to collect it? When Gustaf didn’t cooperate, Darcy killed him,” Casey said, “but they still couldn’t find the money, so he moved into Rhonda’s house to see what I knew. After Darcy failed to get close to me, Mother materialized to take a shot at it.”

  “Possibly. Did you find Marcus’s old address book?”

  “Yes, and I gave it to Detective Lalonde.”

  “What for? There may be a clue to the money in it.”

  “There isn’t. And I’m tired of all the lies and secrets, Theo. Dad wasn’t murdered. He ate tainted mayonnaise in a restaurant.”

  “Casey,” Theo said, putting his hands on her shoulders, “Marcus’s poisoning was no accident. He was deliberately given contaminated food.”

  “Bull. Mother said you lied about the timing of Dad’s death to get me involved so I’d lead you to the money. This is just another pathetic attempt.”

  “No.” He relaxed his grip. “Haven’t you wondered why Marcus was the only one who got sick?”

  “He wasn’t the only one, there was—”

  “Simone Archambault, yes. She was with Marcus and saw him in the hospital. That’s why I needed to talk to her. I think she disappeared because she knew something about Marcus’s murder. It would explain why Darcy killed her.”

  “Darcy?” Casey’s heartbeat quickened. “Are you saying he killed dad?

  “He always denied his involvement. Claimed he’d gone to Paris only to talk to Marcus, but I spoke to the waiter who served Marcus and Simone.” Theo paused. “The waiter told me he was paid to give Marcus a special salad dressing, as a joke.”