“Four years.”
Oh, god. “Dad and I didn’t keep in touch in recent years. He didn’t even tell me he was engaged.”
“We only set the wedding date three months ago and have hardly told anyone yet. As you know, Marcus is a private person, and we’ve both been terribly busy.”
So, why wasn’t she asking why Casey was here? “Gislinde, the reason Dad and I didn’t stay in touch is because three years and two months ago, I was told that he died from botulism poisoning in France. His body was shipped home, and I buried him in an open-casket service in front of three hundred people.”
Gislinde frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“I barely understand it myself.” Casey paused. “Just over three weeks ago, on Sunday, April twenty-fifth, Dad was found murdered in his West Vancouver home.”
Gislinde didn’t even blink as Casey described her encounters with Detective Lalonde and her trip to the morgue. When she finished speaking the room was silent. Gislinde wasn’t looking at her, but at John, whose expression was undecipherable.
“Please forgive my insensitivity,” Gislinde remarked, “but someone’s been playing a cruel joke on you. Marcus is still alive, you see. He’ll be here on Saturday.”
Denial. She should have known. Hadn’t she reacted the same way when Lalonde first told her?
“Really? When was the last time you talked to Dad?”
“April twenty-third.”
Gislinde answered with such confidence that Casey had a feeling she wouldn’t be able to convince her. “I’m sorry for bringing this news, I know how awful it sounds, so maybe you should talk to the detective in charge. I can give you his number.” She didn’t know what to make of Gislinde’s cold stare. “Even if I’m wrong, there are still things I’d like to know about Dad. I mean, did you notice any changes in him a little over three years ago?”
Gislinde examined a polished nail. “Marcus was as he has always been. Fun, thoughtful, passionate. Sooner or later, your stupid detective will discover the truth.”
“Have you talked to Dad over the past three weeks?”
“There’s been no reason to. Marcus rarely calls when he’s in Vancouver. He’s always been adamant about keeping his two worlds separate.”
To the point where he wouldn’t contact his pregnant fiancée? No way.
“Besides, he’s been extremely busy completing business transactions and putting his house on the market,” Gislinde went on. “Marcus wanted to rid himself of all Vancouver attachments.”
“Oh, I think he did that some time ago.” And she hadn’t noticed a For Sale sign on the property, unless Dad had planned to sell the property.
“He will be here, Casey. Your father arrives in Geneva tomorrow to take care of some business and, honestly, if he had died, don’t you think I would have heard by now?”
“Would Theo Ziegler have told you?”
She looked pensive. “You know Theo?”
“We’ve met, yes.”
“Marcus is leaving their partnership to form his own company.”
“Really? And how does Theo feel about Dad leaving?”
Gislinde adjusted her cushions. “He’ll be sad to see him go, naturally, but Theo’s very grateful for all the effort Marcus put into the company.”
“Is he, because I heard that there were financial disputes between them in the past. I was also told that Dad has hidden three million dollars that some Mexican clients apparently think belong to them.”
“Really?” Her tone was smug. “Marcus didn’t steal or keep anything from anyone, but your mother wanted Theo to think that Marcus stole three million dollars from the company. She framed him, you see.”
Casey was aware that her mouth was hanging open, but she didn’t care.
“Would you like some water?” Gislinde asked. “You’ve turned quite pale.”
“No, I’m fine, thanks.”
“I didn’t mean to startle you, but I do believe that honesty cleanses the soul,” Gislinde said. “You do know that she’s worked for Theo Ziegler for years, don’t you?”
“Yes, but why would she have framed Dad?” And why would Theo have made up the story about the Mexicans? Why the bodyguard?
A wisp of bang fell over Gislinde’s pencilled brow and stayed there. “Lillian resented the fact that Marcus had been offered a partnership when she’d worked for Theo longer, so she stole from Theo and blamed Marcus for it. Of course, the situation was resolved, since Lillian still works for Theo.”
Casey rubbed her forehead. To point out that her story didn’t match Theo’s version of events wouldn’t be smart. “I assume my parents weren’t on friendly terms after that?”
“They’ve never had much to do with each other.”
What would Gislinde say if she knew about Mother’s photo in Dad’s bedroom, or of her history for destroying couples’ lives?
“I know that Dad bought and sold art and furniture, among other things, but do you know if any of the goods TZ Inc. dealt with were controversial or even illegal?”
“Absolutely not, but the merchandise was often expensive and rare. Since clients demanded discretion, Marcus rarely talked about business.”
Uh-huh, sure. Maybe former TZ staff would tell her more. “Did Dad ever mention an employee named Gustaf Osterman?”
It was Gislinde’s turn to look surprised. “I remember the name, but I believe he left the company about the time I met Marcus.”
“I heard that my mother was quite taken with him.”
Gislinde’s giggle caught Casey off guard.
“I’m sorry to say this, Casey, but it’s common knowledge that Lillian is taken with most of the men she meets.”
She doubted Gislinde was all that sorry. “I gather you wouldn’t know if Osterman was taken with her too?”
“No, but I do know that Lillian and Theo are lovers.”
Theo and Mother? It figured. “Do you know any other former employees of Theo’s?”
“No. As I mentioned, Marcus rarely discussed business. You should ask Theo.”
Casey felt a headache coming on. “Did Dad ever mention a woman named Simone Archambault?”
“No.” Her tone became a little frosty. “Who is she?”
“A good friend.”
“The name means nothing to me.” Gislinde stretched her arms over her head, then slowly brought them out to the side and down onto her lap. “It’s time for my meditation, so if you’ll excuse me.”
Casey wasn’t quite ready to be dismissed. “Do you have any recent photos of Dad, and maybe one from when you first met?”
“Everything’s packed away and in storage, but I have a couple of wallet-sized pictures.” She got to her feet. “Oh, and that reminds me, I have something for you. Marcus was supposed to take it back to Vancouver on this last trip, but he forgot.”
When Gislinde left the room Casey turned to find John glaring at her. If his eyes were lasers, she’d be smoldering from all the burn holes.
Gislinde returned a minute later and presented Casey with a long tube. “These are the blueprints for Marcus’s West Vancouver house, which he’d planned to give you some time ago, but they wound up with things I’d been storing at my sister’s. I suggested he take them on this trip, though I guess it doesn’t really matter now that the house is being sold . . .”
“Thank you.” Casey gripped the tube. “Too bad you never saw the place—it was a nice design.”
“Marcus didn’t want me there.” There was an edge in her voice as she handed Casey two small photos. “He said the house embarrassed him.”
So it should have. Casey studied a head shot of Dad. The second picture had been farther away so that his features weren’t clear. “When were these taken?”
“The close-up was about a year after we met, the other was taken six months ago.”
Casey handed them back. “Thank you for seeing me, Gislinde.”