Free The Opposite of Dark by Debra Purdy Kong Page B

haven’t looked in the book. You should go now.”
    Casey turned to the last page and stared at the name “Theo Ziegler.” Dad had written down two addresses, one for San Francisco, the other in Geneva, plus two phone numbers and an email address.
    â€œSimone, did Dad ever mention someone named Theo Ziegler?”
    Simone glared, as if offended by the question. “I don’t know those people.”
    Was this true? Casey zipped up the book. “Thanks for seeing me.”
    â€œI pray I’ve done the right thing. There are too many decisions to make. Difficult.”
    â€œI don’t quite know what you mean.”
    â€œGo now.”
    Casey removed a pen and pad from her purse. “If you want to talk or need anything, please call me.” She jotted down her home number on the back of her business card.
    Simone struggled to her feet. “You will keep this visit secret? I swear on the lives of my family that I know nothing about that man in the morgue.”
    â€œWhy do you want to keep my visit a secret?”
    â€œI don’t want to be involved in a murder investigation. I just want peace and quiet.”
    â€œOkay, I won’t tell a soul.” Unless her promise turned out to be undeserved.
    Simone opened the door. She scarcely gave Casey time to step outside and say goodbye before shutting it.
    In her car, Casey studied a slip of paper tucked into the back of the book. Dad had written the address of the house on Marine Drive. Below, he’d drawn two vertical rows of x’s and o’s and a bunch of squiggly lines. Had he been doodling, or was there a point to the squiggles? She thumbed through the book. Most of the addresses were European, a few were American. Simone was one of two Canadians who’d lived close to Dad, the other was Vincent Wilkes whose old address was listed. Both of them had stars beside their names. Casey turned to Ziegler’s name. No star there.
    It’d be impossible for her to meet all the people in the notebook, but she could try emails and phone numbers. Several other names had stars beside them, and Casey didn’t recognize any. Had they been Dad’s friends? It was possible, since Mother’s name, street and email addresses, plus a cell phone number were also listed, yet she had no star by her name. For the second time this week, she wondered why Dad had listed Mother at all.
    Casey sighed. Everywhere she went Mother’s name cropped up; with Detective Lalonde, her father’s address books, Rhonda. Now the woman was passing messages to her through the authorities.
    Casey pulled the crumpled phone slip from her pocket. As she looked at the brief note Lalonde had written, she couldn’t help feeling that Mother was moving closer, preparing to make contact as Rhonda had predicted. Was that such a bad idea, though? If Mother and Dad had kept in touch all those years, how much did she know about this importing business? Had she known Dad was alive? Casey shoved the number back in her pocket.

Nine

    CASEY CHEWED THE warm, misshapen ball of falafel for three seconds before her taste buds couldn’t take any more. She spit out the ochre-colored mess in the sink. So much for a nutritious supper; grainy garbanzo beans saturated with spices and parsley flakes wasn’t for her, with or without the yogurt and cucumber dip. Good thing the bowling alley made a decent burger.
    As Casey fetched the last Coors from the fridge, she heard Rhonda’s knock. When she opened the door she was surprised to find Rhonda standing beside a tall, thin man sporting blue-tinted glasses and tight, blond curls.
    â€œHi, Casey, I’d like you to meet my new tenant, Darcy Churcott.”
    â€œHi,” he said in a raspy voice. “Good to meet you.”
    â€œYou too.” She turned to Rhonda. “I didn’t know you’d interviewed anyone.”
    â€œThat’s because you’ve been gone all day.”
    True,