The chill Casey had felt her first time in this apartment returned. She hated being here. It was as if Jasmine’s essence still hovered. She glanced at the dark kitchen cupboards and yellow countertop, a throwback to the seventies when this building was probably constructed. Casey headed for Jasmine’s bedroom, curious to see what else was left.
The bed and bureau were gone, as were her disco clothes, wigs, red feather boa, and even her shoes. In Jeremy’s room, she found a box of clothes and a crucifix on the wall. Otherwise, the room had been picked clean. Poor Jeremy. His life had changed so much. Was he still waiting for his mom to come and get him?
Feeling a bit queasy from the apartment’s stench, Casey headed for the bathroom, flipped on the light, and tossed her gum in the garbage. She sat on the edge of the tub and took slow deep breaths. Reminders of Jasmine were everywhere: a toothbrush in a red plastic cup, mascara and lipstick by the sink. Bath toys cluttered the top of the toilet tank.
Jasmine hadn’t been the world’s best housekeeper. The tile grout around the tub was black in places. Blue decals on the bottom of the green tub were also stained. Staring at the decals, Casey recalled the photo of Jeremy. He’d been sitting in the bathtub and grinning up at the camera. But hadn’t the picture seemed much brighter? Casey looked at the two swag lamps on each side of the sink. The wattage wasn’t strong.
The sound of a closing door made Casey jump. The other buyer? She hoped this person didn’t want the stool. Casey left the bathroom and flinched when she saw Elliott Birch walking toward her.
Birch stopped and gaped at her. “You were at the funeral.”
Her heartbeat quickened. “Yes.”
“You’re a friend of that Crenshaw bitch.”
“We’re coworkers, but no one would call us friends.” Crap, he was blocking her path to the living room. “Are you here for the sale too?”
“I’m picking up the rest of Jeremy’s stuff, but I ain’t paying for nothin’.”
His black hair, which had been slicked down at the funeral, was disheveled. Casey leaned against the wall and crossed her arms, hoping to look more at ease than she felt. “How’s your son doing?”
His eyes narrowed. “What’s it to ya?”
“Just making conversation.” Birch’s stare rattled her. Why wasn’t he saying anything about her confrontation with Gabrielle? Surely he knew about it.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“I came to buy the footstool.” She nodded toward the living room.
Watching his hands, she strolled toward him. If he reached in his pockets she could be in deep trouble. Birch was shorter and thinner than her, but still dangerous. Her heart pounded so hard her chest hurt. She walked closer, but he didn’t move. When she was close enough to touch him, he turned and let her pass. Casey marched toward the stool, feeling his gaze on her back. She lifted it and turned so she could examine the piece while keeping Birch in view.
“Why do ya want that shit?” he asked. “It’s dirty.”
“Dirt can be removed.” Moron. “I like sunflowers and it’s beautifully embroidered.”
“Yeah well, I suppose everybody’s good at one thing.” Birch hurried to the door, blocking her exit. “When are you and Crenshaw going to stop acting like cops? Gabby told me about you and Hannah.” He looked like he wanted to flay her. “If you tell her mother about us, I swear you’ll regret it.”
If Birch had a weapon, he would have waved it at her by now. Maybe he preferred his fists. “Seeing as how you didn’t kill Jasmine,” she said, holding the stool chest high, “you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
Birch laughed. “Damn straight.”
What was he hoping to do? Marry Gabrielle so he could cash in on the inheritance when Hannah died? Casey flung open the door and hurried down the hallway. She looked over her shoulder. Birch wasn’t following. As she rapped on the Gallenskis’ door at the far end of the hall, Birch stepped out of the apartment, carrying the box she’d seen in Jeremy’s closet.
Ursula was still on the phone when she opened the door. Somewhere in the apartment, Casey heard a baby start to cry.
“I gotta go,” Ursula said into the receiver. “Bye.” She looked at the stool. “You still want that thing?”
“Yes, and I just had a run-in with Elliott Birch.” She spotted Birch coming down the hall. He turned and headed toward the building’s entrance. “He’s leaving right now with a box and said he isn’t paying for anything.”
Ursula spun around. “Pav, Birch is here and he’s taking off!”
“Would you pick up the baby while I deal with him?”
After Paval rushed out the door, Ursula held out her hand. “Where’s my twenty?”
“The stool has a couple of stains, so I’ll give you fifteen.” Casey removed a twenty dollar bill from her wallet. “Do you have change?”
Ursula looked at her with contempt. “No wonder I’m still living in this dump. I have to get the baby, so wait here.”
“How about I get the baby for you? It’ll save time.” It would also give her a chance to peek into the bathroom. Since Jeremy had spent a lot of time here, she had a hunch.
“Whatever.” Ursula clumped down the hall. “She’s in the room at the end.”
Casey followed her until Ursula stepped into a bedroom on the left. Farther down the hall, Casey stopped at the bathroom. The lights were off. She continued to the second room containing two cribs, a chest of drawers, and a changing table.
The baby had spit up. Sour milk dribbled down her chin and onto her pink sleeper. Casey lifted the child and headed for the bathroom. Once she’d switched on the light, she found a box of tissues on the counter.
She wiped the tiny face and moved closer to the green tub with its clean white decals. The wall tiles were spotless. Halogen lights made the room much brighter than Jasmine’s bathroom. Had Jeremy’s picture been taken here? Jasmine might have come to pick him up early, seen him playing in the tub, and borrowed Paval’s camera. But what if she hadn’t taken the picture?
Casey lifted the whimpering infant onto her shoulder and massaged her back. Given the sexual abuse Jasmine had suffered, the thought of a landlord taking pictures of her naked child might have enraged her. Was this what Jasmine meant when she wrote that Paval had crossed the line? Maybe Jasmine hadn’t given Hannah details because the implication was too awful. She wouldn’t have wanted to upset her ailing mother.
Paval appeared in the doorway. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, but babies make me nervous.” She handed the child to Paval. “She spit up.”
Casey watched Paval’s liquid eyes. The first two times she met him, she assumed he’d been close to tears over Jasmine, but maybe he always looked this way. What if he and Jasmine had argued about the photo? A sexual abuse allegation would end his job, possibly his marriage, and launch a police investigation. Could he have killed her? Was he nasty enough to have beaten Winifred and threatened to kill Summer? He didn’t know Summer existed, though, unless Marie had told him. A prickly, stinging sensation ran up and down Casey’s arms, as if someone was grazing her skin with a bouquet of thorns.
“Here’s your change.” Ursula plunked a crumpled five dollar bill in her hand.
“That’s exactly what I got out of Birch,” Paval said. “The jerk was about to take a swing at me.”
Casey picked up the stool and stepped into the hall. “Thanks for this.”
She hurried out of the building and looked for Birch’s car, but he’d apparently taken off. Keys ready, she jogged to her Tercel, alert for trouble. Once inside, she locked the door, then called Corporal Lundy.
While the phone rang, Casey’s thoughts swirled. Thefts, child abuse, beatings, murder. Was Paval responsible, after all? Dirty blue decals, clean white decals. Three weeks had passed since she’d seen those photos. She couldn’t be completely sure which bathroom the photo was taken in until she saw the snapshot again. Casey tried to exhale her anxiety away. Don’t jump to conclusions, girl. Ask Lundy about the photo first, and then see what was what.