“You call two years temporary?”
“I call it none of your business.”
“You play the victim role too well, Casey. Marcus’s death and your husband’s infidelity made you weak. You wound up relying on anti-depressants and shrinks and Rhonda. That is not what I wanted for you. You should have lived more selfishly, my darling.”
“Like you?”
“Listen to me.” Lillian stepped closer. “I don’t want you to be controled or influenced by anyone, and I don’t want you to break down every time you suffer a major loss. Since we might not meet again, this is really what I wanted to tell you.”
Casey smelled her mother’s lavender scent and moved away. “Was your desire to say it here based on a need to hurt Rhonda again?”
“She’s already hurt herself more than I ever could. It’s over. There’s no point in staying to watch the end. The idea has no appeal.”
“What end?”
The door opened.
“The end of me and Lillian,” Rhonda said, entering the room.
The hatred on Rhonda’s face shocked Casey. She retreated to the window seat.
Ashes fell from Lillian’s cigarette as she glowered at Rhonda. “Still haven’t squashed those eavesdropping tendencies, I see.”
Rhonda sauntered up to her. “Coming here was stupid, Lillian, which is why I’m happy you did, but if you were hoping to turn my daughter against me—”
“Why is my daughter living in your house?”
“Because she wants to.”
No, Casey thought, not anymore.
“It’s only fair,” Rhonda added, “since you took my husband from me.”
“Do you think you’ll ever outgrow your jealousy?” Lillian asked.
“What was I supposed to be jealous of? You whoring around at fourteen? Cheating on your husband repeatedly and intentionally destroying other people’s happiness? Leaving Casey alone downstairs while you screwed someone’s husband upstairs?”
“You hated that I had Marcus. Admit it.”
“Marcus only became appealing once he stopped martyring himself over a tramp like you. As for your pathetic attempts to be friends again, I always knew what you really wanted.” Rhonda’s eyes blazed. “I know your soul, Lillian. We were inseparable for years, right? All you wanted was to get Casey back in your life and make sure Marcus stayed out of mine.”
Casey drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. She’d never heard so much venom coming from Rhonda. Had her forgiving attitude been an act? Or had the news about the dress set her off?
“Luckily, we won’t have to put up with your garbage much longer,” Rhonda went on. “Casey found the clothes and weapon in your place and handed everything to the cops.”
Casey inhaled sharply. Oh god, why was she saying this?
The cigarette nearly dropped from Lillian’s hand as she turned to Casey. “What clothes?”
Casey tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come.
“The shimmery little number you wore to kill Marcus,” Rhonda blurted. “Or Gustaf, I should say.”
Casey shook her head. Why wouldn’t she keep her mouth shut? “Rhonda, let the police handle—”
“Is that what you and Darcy do for fun now? Shoot and hack people to death?” Rhonda asked. “You need to find a better hobby, hon, ’cause that one really sucks.”
Lillian’s puzzled expression vanished. “I didn’t kill anyone, hon. You did.”
Rhonda glanced at Casey. “I told you she was devious.” Her hands curled into fists. “You began setting me up the day you sent me the picture of Marcus.”
“Why did you send the picture?” Casey asked.
Lillian removed what looked like a compact from her purse. When she opened the lid Casey saw a mini-ashtray. “It was just part of the game. I had no idea Rhonda would completely unhinge.” Lillian mashed the cigarette butt in the tray, closed the lid, and dropped it in her purse.
Rhonda laughed. “Smooth, Lillian, but let’s not forget darling Darcy. You planted him in my house, probably to fabricate evidence against me.” She began circling Lillian. “You sent the photo and wedding invitation, which you knew would make me confront Marcus. After all, his betrayal would make a great motive for murder. Now you want to plant suspicion in Casey’s head.”
Lillian looked at Casey. “She’s lying. As I said before, coming here was Darcy’s idea. He thinks you have the money. Since he was here, though, I suggested he look around and see if he could find evidence against Rhonda.”
“He didn’t find anything because there was nothing to find!” Rhonda shouted.
“The tragic part,” Lillian said, “is that you butchered the wrong—”
“When I heard your voice, I went downstairs and called Lalonde before I came in,” Rhonda interrupted. “He’s on his way.”
“I’ll wait for him outside.” Lillian walked to the door.
“If she’s so innocent,” Rhonda said, turning to Casey, “why’s she taking off the moment I mention cops?”
As Lillian started to leave, Rhonda grabbed her arm and hauled her backward. “You’re not getting away that easy!”
In an effort to break free, Lillian dropped her handbag. Rhonda held her arm with both hands.
“Stop it!” Casey jumped up from the window seat. “Both of you!”
Lillian kicked Rhonda in the shin and jerked her arm free. She grabbed Rhonda’s hair and pulled her head back. Rhonda collapsed onto her knees, wrapped her arms around Lillian’s legs and attempted to take her feet out from under her. Lillian hit Rhonda on the side of her head, knocking her over. Grabbing her bag, Lillian ran out of the apartment. Rhonda stumbled to the door, her eyes wild, hair twisted in all directions.
“Don’t worry, she won’t get away.” Rhonda wiped her face with her sleeve. “The bitch will finally get what she deserves.”
Casey’s stomach churned so fast she thought she’d be sick.
Twenty-nine
CASEY DIDN’T TRY to follow Mother. Rhonda did, and probably had her in a headlock by now. Curled up in the window seat, Casey tried to understand what Rhonda had said, to make sense of the intensity of her rage. Mother had been right about one thing. Rhonda wasn’t herself these days. But Mother had been totally off base to accuse her of murder. Did she really think Rhonda could afford a sequined gown? If she’d done her homework, Mother would have known that Rhonda was at Summer’s swim practice when Gustaf was killed.
Police sirens grew louder. Casey didn’t want to hear Rhonda’s version of events. Besides, three million dollars needed to be found before more people died. She fetched the blueprints and hurried to her car.
Eager to avoid Rhonda and the police, Casey started the engine and cruised down the back lane. Five seconds later, cold metal pressed against her neck and she gasped.
“Oh!” She hit the brakes.
The metal pressed harder. “Drive,” a familiar voice ordered.
In the rearview mirror she saw Darcy’s grim face.
“You should clean your car more often.” He tossed her sleeping bag and pillow to the side.
Her heart tried to leap up her throat. “How’d you get in with a cop here?”
“He’s having a little nap. Now drive.”
Sweat beaded along her lower back. “Where to?”
“The Marine Drive house.” He lifted the blueprints off the passenger’s seat. “Where’d you get these?”
“Gislinde Van Akker.”
“I was right. Money’s in the house.” Darcy reached over and dumped her purse’s contents on the seat. “Where’s the tape?”
“Tape?”
Once again, he pressed the weapon against the back of her neck. “You like Mozart, Casey?”
“Theo has it.”