by Lila K Bell
I wanted to point out that it was Sam who’d found the body, the son of one of their oldest friends, but kept that detail to myself. I didn’t think they’d believe my explanation that I’d become psychic overnight.
My father checked his watch and, as he did every day, folded up his paper, set it next to his plate, and pushed his chair away from the table.
“I’ll be home late this evening,” he announced. “We have a merger meeting this afternoon that might run late.”
“Not too late, I hope,” said my mother. “We have Abigail’s garden party this evening.”
Father rolled his eyes. “Whoever thought to host a garden party at the end of summer deserves to have no one show up.”
Mother’s eyes widened in horror. “Hayden Gates, you watch your tongue. You know she’s the head of the Women’s Legion, and I’m running for vice-president this year.”
“Of course, dear. I’d hate to do anything to ruin your chances.”
He circled the table and kissed the cheek my mother presented to him, then he gave me a nod and left the room.
As though his departure were the signal for Mother to move on with her day, she collected her plate and my father’s and brought them into the kitchen.
“What do you have planned for today, dear?” she asked, as she passed by the dining room on her way upstairs. I was often an after-thought and it rarely bothered me, today less than usual. “Perhaps it wouldn’t be the worst idea to stop at Antonio’s for a bit of a spa treatment. He’ll set you up right as rain.”
I forced another smile. “I’ll see if he can fit me in.”
She nodded and turned her attention to Gramps. “What about you, Father?”
He snorted. “What do I do every day, Rosie? Sit on my ever-widening behind and do some crossword puzzles, I expect. Though Bea might take me to the park.”
Mother sniffed. “That woman takes risks she shouldn’t. I’ll have to have a word with her.”
“It’s just the park, Mother,” I said, taking my bowl and Gramps’s empty plate. “It’s not like she’s taking him sky diving.”
“Now that’s something I would love,” said Gramps, and I laughed, imagining him free-falling through the clouds until the parachute caught him. No doubt he would get a kick out of that. I suspect I got my adventurous streak from him.
Mother simply rose her gaze to the heavens with a “What did I do to deserve this?” sigh, and headed upstairs.
I brought the dishes to the kitchen and checked the stairs on my way back. Having made sure neither of my parents was within earshot, I returned to Gramps and said, “Mind coming with me for a moment? I need your help with something.”
“Of course,” he said. Curiosity was written all over his face, but he didn’t press me with questions as we climbed the stairs to my room. He moved slowly, his hip always worse in the morning, but we made it upstairs before my father left his room to go to work.
The moment I opened the door, the dog was on his feet and was mid-bark before I silenced him with a look.
“He’s well-trained, anyway,” I said.
“Fiona Gates, what in heaven’s name is this?” Gramps asked. He sat on the side of my bed and the dog padded over to him, tongue out, tail wagging. It was the happiest I had ever seen him in our short acquaintance. Happiest I’d ever seen Gramps, either, and I’d known him all my life.
“Who are you, young man?” He ruffled the dogs ears, and his fingers explored down to his neck. “You have a collar, so you’re not a stray. Hm. Charles, is it? Well, Charlie, welcome to the house.”
I hadn’t even thought to check for a name. Thankfully my instinct to bring the dog to Gramps was better than trying to take care of the dog myself
“Where did you find him, Fi?”
“I…He…” I kicked myself for not having come up with a good story. “I promised a friend I’d look after him. At least for the day. I thought you might take him upstairs and hide him from any prying eyes.”
I jerked my head toward the door, a less-than-subtle reference to the two people who would jump through the ceiling at the first speck of dog hair on their clothes.
“I’d love to,” he said to Charles. “We’ll have a great time, won’t be? Bea can take us both to the park.”
Charles’s tail wagged with such ferocity, I worried it would fly right off, but presumably Gramps knew what he was doing.
“Thank you,” I said, kissing the top of his head. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“You’re going to need one if your parents find out.”
“I trust you to help me make sure that doesn’t happen.”
I gave him a wink, which he promptly returned. Getting around my parents’ neuroses was one of our favourite hobbies.
“Come along then, Charlie,” Gramps said, pushing himself to his feet. “Let’s get ready for the day and get you something to eat.”
He shuffled to the door, and I checked the hallway to make sure the coast was clear before he left my room and headed upstairs.
Once he and the dog were out of sight, I set about getting ready for my own to-do list. Despite my mother’s sharp opinions, I had no intention of wasting time under Antonio’s scrutinizing gaze. There was a murdered man in Brookside and I was ready to make moves to uncover his murderer.
***
Unfortunately, the only moves I could think to make were ones that couldn’t be taken in the light of day, so as eager as I was to get started, I forced myself to stick with my usual boring routine while I laid out my plans for the evening.
The gym at least gave me an opportunity to expend some of my impatient energy, but after two hours, I’d tackled every available machine and even the personal trainers were giving me the stink eye. I took myself out to lunch and spent the rest of the afternoon running errands.
I felt like a horse at the bit, or a puppy tugging at the end of a leash. I was tethered by social norms and my parents’ expectations, by the shadowy positions of my friends in the eyes of the law, and my own uncertainty of how to proceed.
Wanting to find a murderer was a lot different than actually doing it, but I had faith that someone in my circle would give me the information I needed.
Finally, around eight o’clock, I headed to the Treasure Trove. To my great relief, it was still quiet, the bulk of the crowd rarely coming out before ten or eleven at night.
Troy stood behind the bar, wiping down the surface until the rough wood reflected all the bottles on the wall behind him. He greeted me with a smile and tossed the rag over his shoulder.
“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes this early in the evening,” he said. “Your usual?”
“Please,” I said, and pulled up a stool.
“I would have thought you’d be out at some sort of social event,” he said, coming back with my whiskey sour. “Isn’t there some kind of big garden party everyone’s been waiting for?”
I crossed my arms on the bar. “How long have you known me, Troy? Do I seem like the sort of person who enjoys hanging around at garden parties?”
He leaned in toward me. “As a matter of fact, you do, Fi. More than any of my other patrons, anyway.” He jerked his head toward the few people already slumped over the tables throughout the room. It was mostly the regular drunks who came here right at opening. The ones who’d spent their mornings drinking alone at home and now wanted company for the rest of the night.
None of the Jewels had shown up yet, but I was sure they’d be along within the hour.
“All right,” I said. “Fine. I was invited to the garden party. Unlike my mother, I don’t feel the need to suck up to the people who host them, so I said I was busy. I think Mother was relieved. She knows I get bored at these things, and I think she’s afraid I’ll do something to embarrass her. I can’t imagine what. I might not be as polished as she’d like me to be, but does she really think I’m going to drop my pants and start dancing around the roses in my underwear?”
“Now there’s something I�
�d like to see,” someone said behind me, and my cheeks flushed. I was grateful for the dim lights that covered any redness as Ryan came around beside me and dropped onto the next stool.
Just like the other night, he was dressed to make me weak in the knees. His leather coat hugged his shoulders over a faded Superman T-shirt, and his black jeans seemed to have pulled a little more at the seams.
“Whatever’s on tap?” Troy asked.
Ryan nodded and returned his grin and twinkling eyes to me. “So why are you dancing in the roses, Fi? Here to celebrate something?”
“For a change, I’m not,” I said. “Did you two hear about Barnaby Coleman’s murder?”
Ryan shifted his attention to the pint as Troy set it down in front of him, and the bartender shrugged. “Saw some mention of it in the papers this morning. Why?”
“I happened to be in the area when he was killed,” I said.
I didn’t intend to go into all the details, but if anyone knew something about Barnaby’s debts, it was Troy. He kept his ear to the ground. The better to get a feel for whoever came into his bar and appeared to be hovering around the cash. Troy was a good guy, never one to take advantage or kick the downtrodden… but he was also a shrewd businessman who liked to know everything there was to know about the people he dealt with. I hadn’t seen much of that side of him. Ninety per cent of the time, his only role as far as I was concerned was Brookside’s best bartender. But he also managed to find new homes for my books, which suggested a whole life outside of the Trove. A life I’d already decided was best not to pry into.
“I hear he had some money trouble with a few people in town?” I hinted.
“That he did,” Troy said, raising an eyebrow. If he had any curiosity about why I was asking, he didn’t push. Trusting each other to say only what anyone needed to know was a big part of why I loved this place. “Man was a fool when it came to borrowing. He couldn’t be bothered to do his homework and had a bad habit of falling in with the wrong people.”
“Any thoughts on who some of the worst of these wrong people might be?” I asked.
“Why are you wondering, Fi?” Ryan asked.
Unlike Troy, he and I didn’t have quite as clear an unspoken agreement. There was a lot I didn’t ask him about, and for the most part he stayed out of my business, but now he was watching me with enough interest to make my stomach break into the cha-cha.
I shrugged, aiming for non-chalant. “Curiosity. I hear his son wants to flip the house. I’m itching to know if there’s still going to be a house to flip once everything is settled. What can I say — maybe I’m more my mother’s daughter than I like to believe.”
I batted my lashes at both Ryan and Troy, neither of whom believed me for a minute. Troy stared at me for a good long while, then seemed to accept that my reasons for wanting to know were my own. I was a big girl and he wasn’t my father.
“Ed Fraser had a good hand in the debt, from what I understand.”
Ryan expelled a breath through pursed lips. “You’re not kidding that Coleman took risks. I wouldn’t get into business with Fraser if the world was ending and he had the last dollar on hand. The man’s a snake.”
The cha-cha dancer in my belly stumbled to a halt, attacked by a swarm of moths that now fluttered uncomfortably between my ribs. I’d known from Troy’s behaviour the answer wasn’t going to be that Barnaby had borrowed the money from his hundred and five-year-old grandmother, but Ryan’s reaction suggested my goal might not quite be the walk in the park of question-answer I was hoping for, either. “How so?”
“He’s smart, and that’s a dangerous quality to have in the man who lends you money. He finds loopholes, knows how to push back and not give anything away.”
“You know him personally?” I asked.
“Nah,” Ryan said. “Just by reputation.”
Darn. I’d hoped he might be my ambassador to speak with the man. If Coleman was killed over money, the man he owed the money to seemed like a good place to start. I doubted my chances were good of asking for an appointment and sweet-talking my way into gaining confidential information.
And as that frustrating little epiphany sank in, it was followed by a dozen more discouraging thoughts. What on earth was I thinking? I wasn’t a cop. I didn’t have the kind of clout that would get me through any of these doors. I was the bored daughter of two socialites who hadn’t exactly done a great job hiding my disdain for the status quo.
At the same time, Sam’s voice echoed in my ears that my name would have to go on the official report. There were a hundred reasons hidden behind my bookcase for me not to get pulled in as an interested party. Maybe this wasn’t a great idea, but it was the best chance I had to remove myself from any suspicion.
The realization that Ryan was staring at me pulled me out of my thoughts, and I raised my eyebrows at him, silently suggesting he give voice to whatever was on his mind.
“What are you up to, Fi?” he asked.
Despite my flip-flopping determination, I gave him a confident smile. “Nothing too horrible, I don’t think. It turns out I have a vested interest in helping the police find out who killed Coleman — for one thing, I seem to have temporarily inherited his dog. So I thought I’d do some digging.”
Ryan and Troy exchanged a glance, but Troy said nothing, just moved down the bar to serve someone else. Ryan tapped my glass with his and raised his pint in a toast. “If you’re going have a chat with Fraser, you’d better bring your boxing gloves and be prepared to dodge. Even then, I can’t guarantee you won’t walk out of there feeling more than a little bruised. The man’s a pro.”
“Guess it’s a good thing I keep up at the gym,” I said, but deep down my stomach twisted with nerves.
There’s still time to back out, I thought, but even as I considered it, I knew I couldn’t.
Just one little conversation, I told myself. How badly can it go?
6
With at least one potential lead to follow, I woke up the next morning feeling like a downright Sherlock. I, Fiona Gates, had used my resources to learn information about a dead man.
I knew it wasn’t right to feel so giddy about something so morbid, but I couldn’t help it. I was proud.
Until, of course, I closed my eyes and caught another glimpse of Barnaby’s dead body. Nothing to kill the excitement of a new hobby like memories of finding the father of an old high school acquaintance murdered on his kitchen floor.
My stomach twisted as I went down to breakfast, and I was grateful when I discovered that my parents had already left for the day. Gramps was nowhere to be seen, but I heard him and Bea talking upstairs. Well, Bea was talking, harping at him for not doing his exercises no doubt, while Gramps was dismissively telling her to shove off. With love, of course. Bea was the best addition we could have asked for in this house.
Then the dog barked a happy little song, and I realized neither of them was harping at the other — they were gushing over Charles. If I’d known having a pup in the house would bring so much joy, I would have snuck one in years ago. Too bad Charlie was only a temporary fixture. No doubt Sam would want him processed or something, or Jeremy would want to take him in as a memory of his father.
But if we couldn’t have Charles, maybe I’d see about something a little more permanent, all for Gramps. Let Mother throw a fit if she wanted.
I grabbed an apple from the fridge and called it breakfast, then headed out of the house and into the early morning chill. Fall was on its way to a brisk arrival, and I was certain we’d see our first snow fall before the end of the month.
I pulled up the collar of my jacket and let myself into the silver Mercedes sitting in the laneway. I’d named this beauty Mercy after I’d taken her out for a test drive and rounded a corner so sharply I’d nearly given the salesman a heart attack. It had seemed fitting.
As much as I love Bessie, Mercy’s a whole other animal. She’s sleek and sexy, and purrs like a contented kitten whenever I start the engine. Bes
sie’s the old snaggle-toothed tabby cat who loves to snuggle but you’re amazed is still running; Mercy’s the tiger with all the power and grace of a predator.
I didn’t want to consider which one best represented me.
I drove Mercy to the middle of town, to the single high-rise condo apartment building sticking up in the city’s centre. While it was the first one to rear its ugly head and mar our skyline — even if it was only nine storeys — I was certain it wouldn’t be the last. You look at any of the big cities nearby and they’re all being swallowed up by these looming behemoths. All that money for the sake of a home the size of a closet? No thanks. If ever I moved out of my parents’ place, I’d be looking for something more rundown and spacious, thanks very much.
Somewhere in the world, someone was laughing uproariously at the amount of cash pouring in over these buildings, and I often spared that person a thought and hoped he stepped on a piece of Lego.
This offense to Brookside’s charming lakeside character was where Jeremy Coleman had opted to live.
As I’d gone to sleep the night before, riding the high of my win with Troy and Ryan, it had occurred to me that they weren’t my only options. Surely it wouldn’t appear odd for me to seek out an old high school acquaintance to offer my condolences on the loss of his father. My own father had hinted Jeremy might not be as broken up about his bereavement as the world might expect him to be. It couldn’t hurt to check out his theory for myself.
After finagling my way into a parking space across the street, I jogged toward the building and stepped into the glassed-in entrance. Through the locked doors, I could make out the brightly lit and heavily gilded foyer. Three leather sofas were arranged in front of a gas fireplace in a marble hearth to my left, the fire already turned on now that the temperature had dipped below fifteen degrees Celsius. Heaven forbid any of the residents should come downstairs and feel a draft before they stepped outside.
