Closing Time

by Brenda Chapman

  He made it into the office at ten after seven. Too early to make his list of follow-up phone calls, so he put on another pot of coffee and typed notes while he waited for the clock to strike nine. Anyone still in bed at that time shouldn’t be.

  Sara Vila answered on the third ring, panting as if she’d run a race. “I was in the basement hanging up laundry,” she said without being asked. “What’s this about, Officer?”

  He realized she could read his name on call display. He risked redundancy and said, “I’m Officer Clark Harrison from the Sault detachment looking into the murder of Rachel Eglan.”

  “Who? I don’t understand.”

  “Have you been speaking with your brother Alec this week?”

  “No. I’ve been working nights at the hospital. I’m a nurse. I got home from a visit with Alec in Searchmont a few days ago and headed straight to work. I’m off today and start day shift tomorrow. I’ve had no time for anything except work and sleep. I’ve barely kept my house running. Who’s this Rachel … Eglan was it?”

  The woman was a talker, no doubt about that. Clark said, “Rachel was a high-school senior and was waitressing at Pine Hollow Lodge the night you and your brother were there for supper. She was killed walking home after her shift.”

  “Why that’s horrible. In the dark? Was it a hit and run?”

  “We thought maybe at first, but later found that she’d been beaten and left in the culvert.”

  “Good God.”

  The shock in her voice sounded genuine to Clark’s ear, but he wished Stonechild was listening in to give a second opinion. She was intuitive and him less so. He asked, “Do you remember Rachel? She was sixteen and had red hair.”

  “I saw her, certainly. But she was so young.” Sara’s voice came out a wail. He could hear a sharp intake of breath and waited for her to gather herself. “The girl didn’t wait on our table.”

  “No, although I understand she exchanged pleasantries with some of your group.”

  “I don’t recall.”

  He thought he detected a change in her voice. A wariness. “You and your brother returned to his home after supper?”

  “Yes. I went to bed soon after, and he retired to his study to finish a sermon for the following day.”

  “Can you confirm that he didn’t leave the house?”

  A pause. When she next spoke, her voice was quiet. Low and controlled. “Is this necessary?”

  “I’m only checking alibis to cross people off the list. I have no agenda.”

  She again took her time answering. “I have no knowledge of him leaving the house. He was there when I went to bed and in his room when I woke up in the morning.”

  “Well, that’s all I had to follow up on. Thank you for your time.”

  “That’s it?”

  He wondered if he’d missed something because he heard surprise and relief in her voice. Surely he was reading too much into her tone. “For now. Likely I won’t bother you again.”

  “Well, that would be a welcome change.”

  She hung up and left him wondering what she meant. One phone call was not exactly harassment.

  His second phone call took longer because he was transferred a few times up the chain of command until a hospital administrator confirmed that Reeve Judd Neilson had spent the night in question sleeping in his son Robby’s room. Yes, all night. The staff were in and out several times and could attest to his presence if asked.

  At least one family to check off the suspect list, Clark thought. He made one final call to let Valerie know that he was on the road to Searchmont as the clock struck ten before taking the stairs to get his car.

  Clark found Stonechild and the girl returning from a morning paddle and once again reached for the canoe as it glided alongside the dock.

  “Such a lovely morning,” Stonechild said, and he heard regret in her voice, knowing his presence to be the cause. “Do you hang around our dock all morning, waiting for us to return?”

  “Not exactly” — he steadied the canoe while she climbed out — “but they say timing is everything. If we get started now, we should be able to interview everyone by late afternoon and there’ll be time for another paddle before supper.”

  “Can I hold you to that?”

  “I’d like to get home at a decent hour, so I’m going to say yes.”

  They left Dawn and the dog at the cabin and walked through the woods to the main lodge. Tree boughs and leaves filtered the sun and the resulting dappled light kept the air cool. The tree stumps and rocks were lined in emerald-green moss and pine needles littered the path.

  “How’s your wife?” Stonechild asked from a few steps ahead of him. “Getting ready for the baby?”

  “She’s tired, but into the final few weeks.” He laughed. “We’re in for the change of our lives if what everyone says is true. What about you? Ever thought about having a kid, Stonechild?”

  Her back straightened and she hesitated before taking her next step. She replied without turning around, “It’s crossed my mind.”

  Clark kicked himself. He imagined she’d believed a few years ago that she and Jordan would start a family, too, once his brother divorced Miriam. But that was then. A lot had changed. He kept silent rather than add to his blunder.

  Shane was working in the kitchen when they entered. Stonechild had told him they’d be carrying out interviews in the restaurant when she came for breakfast. He brought them a fresh pot of coffee and said they were welcome to use the room until supper hour.

  “Do you have time for a chat now?” Clark asked.

  “Give me two secs and I’ll be right with you.” Shane wiped his hands on the apron tied around his waist and pushed the kitchen door open with his hip.

  Stonechild looked around. “We can set up over here,” she said, walking toward a table for four in the corner away from the windows. “Might make people feel like they have a bit of privacy.”

  “Good thinking.”

  He poured two cups of coffee and handed one to her.

  “I told the others we’d be coming to get them at some point today. The only two who aren’t available until five o’clock are Ian Kruger and Blaine Rogers because they’re working on the Hydro line. I couldn’t see asking them to hang around all day.”

  “I guess I can stay and handle those alone if you want to go out on the water with Dawn.”

  “Let’s play that by ear.”

  Shane joined them carrying a mug. He poured himself a cup of coffee and settled into the chair across the table from them. “Fire away,” he said.

  Clark took the lead. “Who hired Rachel to work here for the summer?”

  “I did, since the job was working for me as a server for the most part. She also helped Martha clean cabins, but for that she only had to be good at taking direction. Martha met her after I interviewed her and didn’t have any qualms. There weren’t a lot of applications, to be honest.”

  “What can you tell us about Rachel?”

  “A good kid. Always on time and worked hard. She was quiet until you got to know her.” He took a sip of coffee and grinned. “I guess she was quiet even when you got to know her. I’ve been racking my brain trying to remember if she had a problem with anybody, but I can’t think of an incident. She’s the last person I’d pick to be murdered. I mean, for what?” He spread his hands and shook his head.

  “Was she seeing someone romantically?”

  “She mentioned a boyfriend Darryl — somebody from town — but I never met him.”

  “Anybody else? We believe she was hooking up with someone other than Darryl.”

  Shane rubbed his jaw. “Nobody that I’m aware of.”

  Stonechild put down her notebook. “Were you having sex with Rachel?”

  “What, me?” His mouth curled in distaste. “Good God, no. She was a child.”

  Clark glanced at her and back at Shane. “That last evening Rachel’s father was to come and get her. Were you aware he hadn’t?”

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p; Shane dragged his eyes back from staring at Stonechild. He took a second to answer. “She was still here when I locked up. I asked her if she needed a ride home and she said no. Her dad was supposed to pick her up. She seemed certain he’d be showing up soon, so I didn’t think any more of it.”

  “And that’s the last you saw of her?”

  “Yes. I went home out the back way and fell asleep on the couch.”

  “Where was your wife?”

  He hesitated. “Petra went shopping in the Soo for the day and got home late.”

  “How did Petra and Rachel get along?”

  “Okay. Petra didn’t have anything to do with the restaurant, so she only interacted with Rachel occasionally.”

  Stonechild leaned forward. “How was Rachel with the other lodgers? Was she friendlier with one over another?”

  “I didn’t see anything inappropriate going on, if that’s what you’re asking. Rachel came to the lodge midafternoon to set up. She took orders, served meals, and cleared tables. She helped with the dishes, scraping and putting them into the dishwasher. She set the tables for breakfast and then she went home. Usually she biked since it stays light until nine o’clock these evenings, closer to nine thirty in June and July, but she also had a light on her bike. Earlier in the summer, when we were busier, she’d come in the mornings to help clean cabins with Martha. We paid extra.”

  Clark looked at Stonechild. “Any more questions?”

  “Not at the moment.”

  He said to Shane, “Then I guess that’s it for now.”

  Shane stood. “I hear there’s going to be a service at the Catholic church in Goulais River for Rachel tomorrow at one o’clock. Father Vila’s officiating.”

  “Thanks for the information,” said Clark.

  Shane turned and started walking toward the kitchen. He stopped with a hand on the door and looked back over his shoulder. “I still can’t believe she’s dead,” he said before he shoved it open.

  “The information lines in these small towns are incredible,” said Clark to Stonechild. “I imagine the entire town knows about the funeral through some freaky community osmosis. Frig, they know when someone sneezes before they reach for a tissue. I’ll bet whatever led to Rachel’s death is making the rumour round, but we’re outsiders and not trusted.”

  “The gossip is the one thing I don’t miss about living up here. I’ve grown to cherish anonymity.” Stonechild looked out the window toward the lake. “The rest I miss like crazy.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Kala’s first impression of Petra was that this was a woman who liked attention. Her cherry-red caftan flowed around her as she sauntered toward them in pink flip-flops that sparkled with rhinestones. She took off her small, round à-la-John-Lennon sunglasses as she slid into the seat and waved a bangled arm toward the kitchen. Her beautiful eyes were the sea shade of blue in which many a poet had drowned. “Shane told me you wanted a word?” she asked.

  “Thanks for making time,” said Clark. Kala couldn’t tell if Petra’s potent aura was having an effect on Clark, but he appeared to be working hard not to notice how she sucked the oxygen out of the room. Kala felt herself fading into the woodwork and thought how best to use the position to her advantage. She pushed her chair to the edge of the table out of Petra’s direct line of vision. Let’s see how Clark deals with this overt bundle of sexual energy.

  “Soooo,” said Clark, dragging out the word as if buying time to compose himself. “I understand you’d like to move back to Sudbury.”

  “Only if you give your approval, Officer.” Petra bent forward so that she was closer to Clark. Her caftan gaped open. She was wearing a hot-pink bikini underneath that made her tanned breasts appear to glow. Clark blinked a few times before looking down at his notebook. Kala saw Petra’s lips curve upward for a second before she settled back in the chair.

  “We’re early days in the investigation so we’d appreciate you staying here a bit longer.”

  Petra’s face tightened but when she responded, her voice was light. “I’ll remain until you give the okay, Offff … icer.”

  Kala clamped her lips shut to keep in a bark of laughter. Petra had effectively mocked Clark by mimicking him with one drawn-out syllable.

  Clark showed no reaction. His voice was even. “Much appreciated. Can you tell me about Rachel?” He finally looked up at her. His face was calm, but Kala could sense his unease, like a man cooking a steak over a raging fire, scared of getting burned.

  “Rachel appeared benign enough, but I didn’t trust her.” Petra’s cutting observation was a throwaway, said without forethought.

  Kala shifted her gaze to watch Petra, her head lowered. Petra’s face was angry and Kala sensed that she’d spoken out of petulance at being told she had to stay at the lodge. This time she appeared to ponder her answer after Clark asked her to expand. Kala thought she might have regretted her previous impetuous answer.

  “She was always watching, soaking up information about people. I caught her listening at doors a few times.”

  “Do you believe she had a reason for this behaviour?”

  “None that was evident, but she liked the men, if you know what I mean. I thought she might be, how can I say? Slutting around. Getting it on with married men.” Petra ran her tongue over her top lip. “Shane wouldn’t confirm or deny my observations.”

  Clark’s voice was puzzled. “Do you think Rachel was having an affair with your husband?”

  “Goodness, no.” Laughter trilled out of her. “Rachel was not his type … or old enough. Shane isn’t that kind of man. No, what I’m trying to explain is that Rachel was more devious than people knew, and I believe she was seeing somebody on the sly. Not Shane, but somebody.”

  “Any idea who?”

  “No.” She’d said it quickly. Too quickly.

  Kala thought that this woman would have had some experience with affairs. She had a knowing light in her eyes when she talked about men and the look she was sending Clark was practised. Kala considered his appearance: tall and solidly muscular, affable face, and coppery-coloured hair. Some women liked a man in uniform, and Clark wore his well. She began to wonder about the state of Petra and Shane’s marriage and jotted a note to follow up.

  “I never liked Thomas Faraday,” Petra said, as if thinking out loud. She closed her mouth and bit her bottom lip.

  “Did he interact with Rachel?”

  “Well, yes. She was here all summer and so was he. I saw them together a few times outside the restaurant. I sometimes wondered …”

  Kala interrupted. “Did he do or say anything to make you dislike him?”

  Petra glanced at her and back at Clark. “He’s too interested in everyone. Smarmy. I don’t trust the kind of man who’s always complimenting and working to make you like him. Know what I mean, Officer?”

  Clark nodded, but Kala could see he didn’t have a clue what Petra was talking about. He wasn’t a man who played games. She figured Petra was working to send them down a path that didn’t lead to her husband. The reason why she was going to all this trouble made Kala curious.

  Clark was working to shift the interview onto more comfortable footing. “You weren’t at the lodge the evening Rachel was killed?”

  “No, I was shopping in the Soo and ate supper with a friend. I drove home late evening.”

  “Did you see Rachel or anybody on the road?”

  “No, I didn’t see anybody. I wish I had.”

  Kala looked up from her notes. “Could you give us the name and contact information of your dinner companion?”

  “Of course. Clare Summers. We ate at Gliss steakhouse on Bay. It was after ten when I started for home.” Petra’s focus swung over to Kala. She lifted a hand to cover a breast. “I hope you don’t think of me as a suspect.”

  Kala returned her wide-eyed stare. “We’re checking everybody.”

  Her hand dropped to her lap. Her words were a steely jab through pouted lips. “I’ll bet you are.”
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br />   The police authority was back in Clark’s voice. “That’ll do for now, Petra. Thanks for your time. If you could let Neal know we’re ready for him.”

  She looked at him and seemed to sense that he wasn’t going to play along any longer. Her voice hardened. “Sure. I’m hoping I can leave here by the end of the week, so please keep that in mind. I’ve had enough of roughing it in the bush.” She adjusted the caftan so that the fabric draped lower over her shoulders and smiled at Clark before she took her leave.

  Kala made a final note in her book and waited for Clark to speak first. He lifted the coffee pot. “Like a refill?”

  She glanced at her mug. “No, I haven’t touched this one yet.”

  He refilled his own. “I’m starting to think we’ve landed in Peyton Place.”

  “Just how old are you, Officer Harrison? Sixty-five?”

  “So, I like the old shows. Point is she makes me think we’re digging into a community with its fair share of shenanigans.”

  “By shenanigans do you mean sex?”

  “I like my word better, but yeah, and sex that crosses boundaries. I’ll follow up with the restaurant and her dinner mate, but not sure their confirmation will cross Petra or Shane off the suspect list.”

  “No. They were each alone for a period of time that night. She could have met Rachel by chance on the road and acted impulsively.”

  “The question would be why.”

  “Shane might have been more into Rachel than either is admitting.”

  Clark wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Petra’s comments and attempts to distract and divert certainly takes one’s suspicions into new places.” He checked his watch. “Going on two. Not sure we’ll be able to get to everyone today.”

  They both looked toward the entrance as Neal let the screen door slam behind him. “Sorry,” he said, a sheepish look on his face as he crossed the room to take the seat vacated by Petra. He scratched at his beard, a nervous gesture that appeared to soothe him. He was wearing a black ball cap that he took off and set on the table in front of him. His black hair was thinning in the front, and Kala thought he’d be bald before long. He didn’t seem like a man who’d let vanity bother him much.