“It’s—” Eckhart began, but was instantly shut down by a glower from Gibson. She covered her mouth and watched grief destroy the man.
Gibson’s face stiffened into a somber expression. He delayed. The pit-bull inside him fixed to bark, to bite.
“Todd,” he said sharply.
Todd rubbed at his forehead. His gaze flitted around the room. His mouth twitched. “It was just once. A mistake.” He groaned.
Gibson let the silence linger. The pit-bull put his hackles down.
“I went to Grimsby to confront Anatoe,” he finally said, raising his head, mournful eyes beseeching.
Gibson remained distant.
“I wouldn’t hurt my wife. I love Elsie,” Todd said.
“Did she find out about your adventure?”
“No.” He winced at the remark.
“What happened when you didn’t call up or come home?”
“I phoned her.” His voice lifted an octave higher. He blathered on. “I told her I’d had too much to drink and couldn’t drive. I would stay with a cousin of Anatoe.”
“How did that go over?” Gibson pushed. “Elsie detested Anatoe.”
“Not real well.” Todd collapsed into himself, hands massaging his thighs.
“So, no argument when you made it home?”
“No. I brought her chocolates. Her favourite.” He wept softly.
“You told us you weren’t at the fireworks. Where were you?” A clipped voice spat out the question.
“I was at the store. I already told you.” Todd paused. “Doing the books. I never saw Elsie. I arrived at the party, but she was gone.”
Back to Grimsby. “What did you tell Anatoe?” Gibson asked next.
“What? When?”
“When you went to Grimsby.”
“I needed Anatoe to leave Savannah alone. He wasn’t good enough for her.”
“Okay,” Gibson said.
“And to quit jeering at my wife. She’s not fat.” Todd stifled the next sob.
“Did you threaten him?”
“No.”
“Did you know Anatoe overheard the quarrel between you and Elsie that afternoon?”
Todd’s eyes sprung wide, further tears tumbled out.
“You were yelling.”
Todd shook his head in denial.
Gibson pressed his lips into a frown. Eckhart stared at the ceiling.
“Elsie was spreading hearsay again. Still. I’ve told her a thousand times to stop.” He gagged on his words.
“Who was she talking to?”
“Jackie. I wasn’t lying about that.”
“I understand. So their chatter was more than a happy-to-see-you.”
Todd nodded.
“What was it about then?” Gibson wanted clarity.
“It was about Gregory and his release from prison. That part was true, but she said he would do it again. She should have left it alone.” He drew his breath in. “Gregory was another guy Elsie didn’t care for. Guess nobody was good enough for her little sister. I didn’t know then that Savannah liked Gregory.” He shrugged. “It’s Savannah’s mistake, not my problem.”
“Is that all you heard?”
“Yeah. Elsie went on and on about it. I warned her gossiping would get her into trouble one day. She...” Todd choked.
“Who else was in the store?”
“I’m not sure. Oh, Mr. Tatlow came in at his usual time.” He stopped. “There was a crash. Okay. I told you that.” Todd was getting confused. “That’s all I know. I’m not lying.” Shame and anger burned in his heart. He filled the vacuum with heaving sobs for his new reality. He didn’t try to check the burst dam, but let his grief surge into a roaring river, sweeping everything in its path.
Gibson pointed his chin at Eckhart. Her legs buckled when she stood, besieged by Todd’s misery. He grabbed at her arm. No electricity passed this time. Relief rushed through him. An easy smile flitted across his lips. Eckhart tugged at her hair. “I’m okay.”
They slipped out of the house, anguish following them down the sidewalk into their own fears.
* * *
The walls were greyer than yesterday. Or was it his mood? Gregory turned on the flimsy mattress, crushed by his hefty frame, cold seeping into his bones. He opened and closed his eyes. No. Still in the hellhole. Breakfast was regurgitating in his throat. He swallowed to keep it down. The damn phone had sounded all night. The lights strobed in the corridor. Even the sweater stretched over his face didn’t stop the incessant flicker. Reggie had been nice, but he was nevertheless in lockup. Four days, three nights, seventy-four hours... at a guess. Keys jangled from a tight belt around a loose body. Shuffled footsteps. Other shoes, hurried ones, clicked on the linoleum. Gregory sat up, nudging aside the useless blanket. He clawed at his itchy arms. Was it lunch already? Two smiling faces peeped through the bars. A guard moved up from behind, sifting through a ring of keys. With a broad indication of his hand, he held up the one that would give Gregory his freedom.
Brandon smirked. Reggie put a finger to his lips. Silence. “Let’s get out of here.”
Gregory jogged down the long hallway and out into the sunshine, squinting his eyes against the welcome assault. He howled. “Is it over?”
“Yes.” They hopped into Reggie’s Range Rover and flew away.
Chapter 16
Savannah sat cross-legged in the midst of the marram grass that topped the dunes, listening to the lullaby of waves breaking on the shore below. The sun began the morning with flashes peeking from the east. It had risen higher now, the brilliance and warmth scattering through a navy sky. A sandspit ran out and reached for the shoreline across the modest basin. A lighthouse, solitary and abandoned, dazzled white against the placid water, paler blue than the dome above. Dogs frolicked down the beach flicking sand behind their rushing paws. Owners whistled and barked to rein them in. Not likely. Savannah laughed at their antics.
Gregory scampered up the path from his father’s property adjoining the waterfront. The bluff overlooking the lake encapsulated his fondness of nature. He inhaled the tang of faraway continents. Savannah waved him over from her partial screen behind the tallest grasses. He hurried over, his footsteps sinking in the silky sand, and hunkered down beside her. Beyond, the coast rendered a thin, dark line. In the clean light of the morning, they could see black skyscrapers battling the smog. Farther in the distance, the land swooped out of view.
Savannah loved this beach. She struggled not to think about Elsie lying lifeless at the bottom of the steps. Whatever the evil was, she was resolved it would not take away all she cherished. She glimpsed at Gregory. His strong jaw and passionate eyes carried a pledge of integrity. She knew he grappled with his loss of freedom. Savannah forced back the tears of her own grief for her sister.
* * *
The hiss of traffic obscured the strangled ringing. Jackie paused and tipped her head, trying to distinguish the noise. The landline. She tripped over the last step and bounded to the landing. After a harried rummaging in her purse, she plucked out a loop with too many keys attached. As she fumbled to get the correct one, the high-pitched sound ceased. “Oh, shit.” She squared her shoulders and stuck the key into the lock. The phone spat out another round of annoyance. She elbowed the door wide, banging it against the wall and raced down the corridor. What could be so urgent?
“Hello,” Jackie answered somewhat stiffly, almost insolently.
“It’s your mother. Your dad is in the hospital. He’s had a heart attack.” Her mother’s strained speech snapped out the words.
“Will he be all right?” She put her palm on her chest. Fear stabbed at her ribs and made her mouth parched.
“Just get here.”
“Okay,” Jackie said.
“Good.” Her mom hung up before she could respond.
Jackie slid into the recliner, still clinging to the dead phone and wept. Frustration boiled into a quiet rage. She pounded her fists on her thighs and booted the coffee table. A thin
laughter whistled through her pinched lips. She sagged further into the cushion, running her fingers along the frayed piping. The bitterness ebbed as she worked the fabric. She let the rise and fall of her chest slow her breathing. Time to make a move. She rose and marched to the home office. With a few clicks on the keyboard, she booked herself on an overnight flight. Although they had been back a number of days, Jackie hadn’t unpacked her suitcase so she threw in some clean underclothes and a toothbrush. As she snapped the lid shut, she heard a rattle. That would be David coming home from work. Jackie had one last look around, grabbed her bag and dashed to the front. David stepped back, startled as someone snatched the door from his grip. She wavered in the entryway, soft strands of hair swept past an ear. Her dark lashes brimmed with silvery tears. A case stood by her side.
“I have to go.”
“What?”
“Tonight. Now. My dad.”
Jackie pushed past him with the bag in hand. David locked the door and rushed to catch up. It was a quick trip to the airport on newly paved roads. The glass and concrete building reflected light from a sun perched at the tip of the central airstrip, just about to dip below the mountains. They sprinted from the short-term parking to the entrance. There was barely anyone in the terminal. Jackie hoped she hadn’t missed her flight. At the counter, she turned toward David and threw him a kiss.
“I’ll let you know what’s happening.” And then she disappeared through sliding glass doors.
* * *
The tires squealed as they struck and rebounded off the tarmac. Jackie stared through the tiny pane as the plane coasted down the runway to where they would disembark. The clouds had cleared out, the threat of rain abated in the transparent blueness. The early glimmers of light dropped through the buildings in the east and washed on the windows of the control tower.
Jackie bounded to the arrivals gate and snatched the first car. After a long ride from Toronto, the Uber driver pulled into the darkened cul-de-sac. She could see the silhouette of her mom standing in the bay window. A light from an upstairs pane shone over the neighbour’s blank wall. She swept her palm on her father’s car as she went by. Her mom swung the door open to greet her, and they headed to the kitchen. Cups littered the countertop as if all they served here was tea.
“Is Dad going to make it?” Jackie asked.
“I hope so,” her mom answered and switched to a less painful topic seamlessly. “The detectives phoned here.”
“Why?”
“They had more questions about the incident.”
“Like what?” Jackie asked.
“Who was at the store that day?”
“What about Gregory? I thought he was arrested for the…” She stopped at the next word, not allowing herself to say it.
“Beats me. But they were anxious to talk to you and David again.”
“Okay. Eckhart left me a couple of messages, but I didn’t phone back yet.”
“I guess you better,” her mom replied.
“Yeah, I will.”
Jackie slipped out of the room and headed to the washroom downstairs to freshen up. The twittering of birds as they swooped from branch to branch in pursuit of unsuspecting bugs, floated in from an open window. A sublime light shone through the wooden slates saturating the room with warmth. She went into the family room and stopped in front of her father’s favourite spot on the couch. The indentation in the cushion was permanent. Now she understood he was not. The tear rolled down her cheek before she could check it. Mom had turned the radio on, but even that noise didn’t fill the emptiness of the house without her dad in it. Her thoughts floated back to Elsie again. Would that pain never stop?
The hospital was a four-storey brick building designed in a u-shape so many of the rooms faced onto a courtyard. Gigantic old elms and maples from the turn of the century dotted the well-tended gardens. Cobblestone paths meandered through a rose bed to a pagoda.
Jackie rode the elevator to her dad’s suite and stuck her head in the doorway. A frail ashen face peeped out from cotton sheets.
“Dad.”
A smile filled the hollows of his sunken cheeks. Jackie balanced on the edge of the narrow bed, glancing at the green walls—the colour of wilted spinach. There wasn’t a picture or decoration in sight, just mind-numbing blankness. Jackie talked while Dad lay back on the pillows and listened. A soft knock on the doorframe stopped their conversation.
“Hi, Reggie. Have a seat.” Her dad pointed to the solitary chair left in the corner. He tugged his fatigued body further up in the bed, wrenching on the tubes and wires attached to his right arm. His other hand shot up to ward off help.
“Nice to see you, Reg,” Jackie said. They had been friends since high school, more than friends. He had done well, graduating with a law degree.
“Any word about what’s going on? My mom said Eckhart wanted to talk to me.”
“Gregory has been released,” Reggie answered.
“What? How do you know?”
“I’m his lawyer. He’s no longer a suspect.” Reggie smiled.
“Oh, so that explains it. Guess I better phone then. Although I’m not sure what I could tell them,” Jackie said.
“They obviously have a lead on something,” he answered.
They settled into a pleasant discussion and before long an hour had passed by. Her dad slumped down, his pjs riding up to his chin. His eyes wavered, flickered and shut. A snore escaped his soft mouth, and peace settled over his dull features.
“Time to go.” Jackie brushed her lips on her dad’s cool skin and shuddered. As they walked out of the room, her cell phone rang.
* * *
Gloom swirled around Gibson when he first woke. The artificial glow of street lamps trickled into the room past the heavy curtains he had neglected to shut. He got up and showered. Billows of steam wafted out of the open bathroom door, fogging all the mirrors and windows. He lingered under the scalding water cascading over his lean frame.
Gibson dressed, suppressing his inclination to tune out. As he stepped outside, indigo skies brought warmth to his core. It astonished him how many tones of blue the heavens could grant. With a lighter tread, he made his way to the café. He sat at the window observing the traffic stream by—a blast of a horn, a screech of tires and a few choice words. A sweet, earthy scent drifted to his snout as a professional woman scraped by, reminding him of Katherine. Why hadn’t she answered her phone last night? Or this morning? He stared off in a stupor until a string of toots caught his awareness. An idling Expedition was framed in the huge picture window, halfway on the walk, jamming traffic on both the road and the sidewalk. Gibson jumped up, tossed bills on the table and ran to the vehicle.
“What the hell.” Eckhart clipped at him. “Duh.”
“Sorry. Didn’t see you.”
“What’s up for today?”
“We have to keep pushing. Something will click.” He peered at her. “Did you hear from Jackie or David yet?”
“No. I left two messages.”
“Mm.”
“Where am I going?”
“Lawsons Lane. That’s where the crime took place. The answers are there,” Gibson said with conviction. “But let’s stop at Anatoe’s garage first.”
“Do you think he knows more?”
Gibson made a noise of acknowledgement, his thoughts already on another path.
She tilted her head to the side, lines forming between her eyebrows. “Are you thinking he makes a good suspect?”
“Not really.” His shoulders rose so vaguely the gesture was almost indiscernible.
She took fringe streets and cut across major routes to dodge the rush hour. She tore up to the garage doors of Sinclair Motors, but they were closed, locked up tight. She looked up to the second-floor windows, but there was no light or motion there either. “Where’s he gone? He had lots of work the other day.”
Gibson reached into his pocket and yanked out his cell. He glanced at the number on the sign above the door and di
aled. While he waited for an answer, he said, “Maybe Anatoe has call forwarding.” He hung up on the tenth ring. “Guess not.”
Eckhart backed out of the property and headed north. The traffic had scattered so it was easy going now. They hit the bridge in twenty minutes, humming across the metallic surface. Gibson saw a flock of birds circling at the stern of a departing ship in the distance. He could just make out a lone figure flinging stuff out of a bucket into the canal. The gulls dived into the churning waters, coming up with full beaks of something. It was too far away to tell.
A trail of brown grunge flew out behind the truck as Eckhart careened down the lane. It swirled in huge whiffs, and then flattened into a sheet, extending out past the ditches into the fields. She ignored the dust storm she had created and crunched to a standstill in the Tatlow driveway.
“Doesn’t look like anybody’s home. What do you think?”
“Let’s go see,” she answered.
Gibson rang the bell and waited for an answer. He peered through a window, but the curtains were closed. He pressed on the bell again.
“Where has everyone gone?”
Gibson twisted his mouth into a frown.
“I’m not sure how I feel about Mr. Tatlow. Are we missing something?” Gibson mused. He stared at the camouflaged entry to the beach. “We should go back to Felton’s house.”
“Why? We’ve cleared Gregory. Although…” Eckhart had really wanted it to be him. Her first case closed, but it wasn’t to be.
“I’ve been thinking about the paths from the beach. I think there’s one at his place.”
“How will that help?”
“Felton or someone else could have slipped from the yard, bustled down to the waterfront and—”
“Gotten back to the party. Nobody the wiser,” Eckhart finished his sentence.
“Exactly,” Gibson said.
Eckhart turned the Expedition around in the wide driveway and headed across the street. She drove past the pump house and pulled in next to Felton’s vehicle. Gregory’s motorbike was missing. An occasional pop of yellow stood out amongst the green in the dahlia bed. They strode to the front veranda in companionable silence. From behind the screen door, they heard low voices. Gibson gestured to Eckhart. She stopped on the bottom step as he marched up to the door. He rapped on the wooden frame. “Hello there. It’s Gibson.”
STORM ROLL: a Canadian murder mystery series Page 29
