They looked so lost and so cold; how could she refuse them? She opened her door to them.
From the moment they got in the door everything went horribly wrong. A dark-haired man with a bristly beard and pock marked skin started swearing at her. He pushed her onto the sofa and started yelling, asking her if she lived with anyone else. They frightened her so badly she could hardly speak. Then he slapped her.
She’d broken into tears. “I’m an old woman. I’m eighty-nine years old.”
“You won’t reach ninety if you don’t speak up,” the man said.
So, she told them everything. She lived alone. Her husband had died several years ago, they’d had no children, and she’d outlived her two siblings. None of her nieces or nephews ever called her.
The man had turned to the woman. “I think we’ve found the perfect hidey-hole.”
“She’s got no Internet and no television,” the woman said.
“It was too expensive,” Anna had replied. “I needed the money to feed my two cats.”
“Well, then, Grandma, if you want to keep yourself and your two cats alive, you’ll do as we say then,” the woman had said.
Anna didn’t know how long ago that was. The two had left her on the sofa while they moved their van into her garage. Her car had been sold long ago; she took taxis to the store or walked.
Her neighbors, Mary and Karl Stucky, lived in Mexico in the winter. Sometimes a local boy came by to shovel her walk, but he’d done it yesterday. He wouldn’t be back until it snowed again.
She closed her eyes, prayed for snow, prayed for deliverance from these two and asked herself why she’d never moved into a senior’s home like her friend Erna had once advised her to do.
Bernadette and Evanston came back into their office and looked over their notes. “What’s our plan?” Evanston asked.
“I figure these two need to find shelter somewhere. They have to stay off the grid and away from cameras. They were successful in hiding out at the seminary, but they must have got spooked and lit out in a hurry,” Bernadette said.
“You don’t think they were just messy young people?”
“They left too much information about themselves. We now know from the black hairs in the wig we found that our female suspect isn’t blonde. We got enough DNA and prints to ID them in the system without going through facial recognition.”
“What do you think made them run?”
“It could have been the maintenance man. The boiler room is directly below the dormitory, they probably heard him there and thought they needed to get out.”
“How do we track them down? We’ve had units out all over town doing gas station camera checks; that’s a big zero. The highway cameras came up with nothing and the hotels, motels, and sleazy flop houses have no reports,” Evanston said.
“Which tells me they never left town,” Bernadette said while pouring a coffee.
She came back to the desk and clicked on her laptop. “I think we check the parking lots of every major shopping mall, grocery store, and big box store in the city.”
“You think we’ll see them trolling the lots looking for their next victim, or in this case their next abode after they take the person hostage and force them into their own home?”
“That’s how I see it,” Bernadette said.
Evanston was clicking her ballpoint pen, which was starting to get into Bernadette’s head, again. “Okay, I say we run with your idea because I got nothing at this point. How many can we get to work on this?”
“We got you and me and Stewart and Simmons. That’s all Durham would give us. The rest of the force is out doing neighborhood patrols. The city is scared witless with the murders. Durham feels the city need to see our people in the streets to feel safe. Otherwise, we’ll be fielding calls day and night about people seeing things in the shadows.”
Evanston nodded. “He’s got that right. Where are we heading first?”
I figure the big supermarkets. There’s lots of parking places for our suspects to grab someone and take them and their car without being seen.”
“Okay,” Evanston said. They grabbed their coats, met Stewart and Simmons in the parking garage, and headed out.
The first three big supermarkets took an hour each. They introduced themselves to the store manager, who took them to their security room to view tapes. Even with fast forwarding, it still took time at each place.
They hit a stroke of luck when the head of the private security firm in charge of the store said he’d have all the other stores under his command review their tapes for suspects and forward them to the RCMP. “You don’t need to do all the work,” he said. “I’ve got eyes to help out.”
They thanked the security officer and decided to take a break. They drove to the local Tim Horton’s where Bernadette got herself a double sugar and cream coffee and steeped tea for Evanston with a side of chocolate glazed donuts.
“OMG, Bernadette, you know how to make a girl happy. I love chocolate,” Evanston said as she bit into the donut and closed her eyes.
“The extra sugar will help us watch the fast-moving videos better,” Bernadette said.
“Maybe it will perk me up. I still got to get home and make dinner for my kids and see if my husband ever wants to have sex with me again.”
“Oh yeah, it’s Friday night,” Bernadette said.
“Yeah, we send the kids over to their friends to play video games and my husband Frank gets frisky. Well, not always. If the Red Deer Rebels are on a losing streak, I have to put some extra spice in his taco, then we’re back on track,” Evanston said with a laugh
“Way too much information,” Bernadette said.
“Look, you’re still young. You and Chris are what? Mid-thirties? You look at each other and you’re doing the nasty. When you hit late forties like me, you got to take a run at it.”
Bernadette bit into her donut and sipped her coffee. Across the street, a large pharmacy super store had ads for toilet paper and coffee. She wondered if she should pick some up; it looked cheap.
She watched as a taxi pulled up to the front of the store. An elderly lady with two shopping bags got in the back. As the taxi pulled away, another car drove behind it.
“I think I got an idea of another avenue we got to check,” Bernadette said.
“Can we do it from here?” Evanston asked. “I could use another donut; I should get one for Frank. The sugar in this would definitely get him in the mood.”
“I just realized how many older people take taxis in the winter when they come out to shop,” Bernadette said.
“I thought everyone got things delivered now, I know I do. I don’t have the time to come out and shop. I order online and they drop it by the door when Frank gets home from his shift. Thank god he works for the post office and he’s off at three.”
“Yeah, I know, but a lot of older people either aren’t comfortable with ordering online and many of them want to get out of their house for a while.”
“I hear you, it’s what we call cabin fever in the winter. You need to see some civilization. So, how we going to run it down?”
“There’s maybe five taxi companies in this city. We call them up and ask for all of their fares of elderly people from large stores like the pharmacy super store across the street.”
“But why not some of the smaller ones? There’s that cool little Latino place where I get Frank his spicy taco mix. What about them?”
“It wouldn’t fit the M.O., the van would stick out. If you look at this parking lot, they could have parked on the outer edge and watched the store with binoculars. Their van would be out of closed-circuit TV range and then they could follow it at a safe distance. The taxi driver wouldn’t know, and neither would the intended victim,” Bernadette said.
“Okay, I like your plan. When do we start?”
“I’ll send a note for our night shift to call the taxi companies, and I’ll follow up tomorrow.”
“But it’s Saturday tomorrow.”<
br />
“The taxis run twenty-four seven. I’m sure there must be someone in operations or they can get someone. I’ll tell them it’s regarding a murder. I’m sure they’ll help us.”
“Okay, then I’m off the clock. I need to go home and get into my other world; you know, the one that is supposed to be the reality of the idyllic Canadian family with no murder and mayhem.”
“Yeah, you go ahead, I’m going off duty as well. I’ll text our new ideas to Durham then I’m going to drop in on Sawchuck on my way home,” Bernadette said.
“Hey, I talked to him on the phone this morning. I’m seeing him tomorrow. I gotta bring him some pirogues. My mother makes them, he loves them.”
“Sure, I’ll tell him that. I’ll see you Monday.”
“But you’re working tomorrow.”
“Well, yeah.”
“Then, so am I. You text me on what cab companies you’re looking into and I’ll take the rest,” Evanston said.
“Hey, thanks,” Bernadette said as she got up. She realized how good it was to work with Evanston. She was a mom, a wife, and detective. She juggled it all and found time for Frank and her to do the nasty on a Friday night. She was truly a class act.
The traffic was light as she headed to the hospital. She realized she was delaying her arrival home so as not to have to cross horns with Uncle Cahal. Everything about the Callahan clan annoyed her. It was more than annoyance, and they’d pissed her off.
They had dropped her father, her mother, and her entire family like a stone. They’d never said why in so many words, but they knew why. It was because Bernadette’s mother was full-blooded Cree Indian.
As her father had explained, his family believed that he had tainted the bloodline of the true Irish family by marrying his native wife.
And, now this man, this full-blooded Irishman dared cross her doorstep. She let the thought drop from her mind as she entered the hospital and found Sawchuck in his room.
He was in bed, propped up with a bunch of pillows watching a hockey game.
“Hey, Sawchuck, someone told me you were feeling better. You’re looking good,” she said as she approached his bed. She wanted to reach out and touch him. She clasped her hands together in front of her to stop herself from doing that.
Sawchuck turned to Bernadette. He was hooked up to an IV, a large bandage was on this throat that displayed a black and blue bruise up to his chin.
“Hey, I’m okay,” he said with a raspy voice. He reached beside his bed and took a cup of water with a straw and sipped it.
“I wanted to stop by. See how you were doing, and you know…to say I’m sorry.” Bernadette fumbled with her hands and looked down at the bed covers then back up to Sawchuck. “I shouldn’t have let that suspect get away. I saw everything about her that was wrong—the clothes, and the boots. I should have grabbed her, but I hesitated.”
Sawchuck put the cup down and took Bernadette’s hand, his grip was warm and strong. “Callahan, if you’d have jumped her, you might have been here instead of me. She only glanced my jugular as she shot past me. If you’d grappled with her in the hall, she might have slit your throat. And, another thing, it was Jellinick who talked me into going into the morgue without finding the light switch. That was dumb and I went along with it.”
Bernadette squeezed his hand. “Thanks, Sawchuck, I’m glad you’re both okay. I heard Jellinick was discharged this morning. How about you? When can you come back to work?”
Sawchuck shifted in his bed and moved his hand back under the covers. “I won’t be coming back to work. I told Durham I’m putting in for retirement. I transferred out here to be closer to the mountains, to forget the death of my wife, and build a new life in the force.” He let out a sigh. “Turns out my new life here was the same as back home, getting shot at and having knives and scalpels thrown at me on a daily basis. It’s wearing me out.”
“Where are you going to go?”
“My younger brother found a little lodge on Vancouver Island, a place up near Campbell River. We’ll be doing eco and fishing tours and the most trouble I can get into is sticking myself with a fishhook. I can get used to that.”
“I look forward to some pictures of some really big salmon,” Bernadette said. She wished him well and left.
As she headed home, she knew she wouldn’t tell Chris about Sawchuck’s plans. Chris was an avid outdoorsman; he’d jump at the chance to take them out to the woods and open a lodge. But Bernadette wasn’t ready for that yet. Being a detective was still her life. The hunt for suspects, the take down, that was in her blood. She couldn’t let it go yet.
Her mind had to deal with meeting Uncle Cahal, and in her usual fashion, she talked to herself about it, Okay, Bernadette, don’t let him get under your skin. He knows you don’t like him; he’s going to try to reason with you and change that…aw Christ…. you can always shoot him…
She began to laugh at her own thoughts as the Jeep turned into the street of her home. She almost hit the brakes when she saw the pickup truck in the driveway.
19
The pickup truck was, a 1970s Ford that was kept together with bondo body filler and some duct tape on the hoses in the engine. But it ran. It drove Grandma Moses all over the big province of Alberta, Canada and sometimes to Montana to meet relatives or go for Pow Wows, feasts and ceremonies or sometimes, like now, to drop in unannounced to check in on Bernadette’s life.
Grandma Moses had raised Bernadette from the time she was three, and then on and off as her mother had picked her up and taken her on the road with her father to tour as traveling musicians.
Bernadette’s mother had a look and sound like Shania Twain. Audiences loved her, but they never made it past the bars, and Dominic became a drunk. He became a really good drunk, the one thing he excelled at.
The family was torn apart and Bernadette stayed with her grandma until she got into trouble on the reservation. The native boys had called her a half-breed and her mother a whore; Bernadette had answered them with her fists and her boots. Grandma Moses sent her to live with her Aunt Mary in Edmonton.
Bernadette parked her Jeep in the garage and took a deep breath. She knew that her grandma would not react well to Uncle Cahal. “Let the fun begin,” she muttered to herself as she went inside.
Grandma Moses was sitting in the big chair by the television watching Dancing with the Stars. Chris was in the kitchen. The smell of onions and garlic being sautéed made her realize how hungry she was.
“Hey, Grandma,” Bernadette said as she entered. She went to her and wrapped her in a hug and kissed her on the cheek.
Grandma Moses always looked the same with her long hair braided on both sides. She wore a print dress a wool sweater with white socks and running shoes.
Bernadette wasn’t sure how old Grandma Moses was, her face had some wrinkles, but her eyes twinkled with a vibrancy that missed nothing. If she said something, she meant it. Small talk to her was just something that was small. She could ask you about your dreams and have you wrapped in her gaze for hours.
“I wish you wouldn’t drive all the way from Lone Pines in this weather,” Bernadette said. “The roads are bad this time of year.”
Grandma Moses looked back at the television. “I have snow tires, I drive the speed limit. Other people drive fast, and they go in the ditch, not me.”
Bernadette squeezed her hand. “I’m glad you made it safe, and I’m so happy you’re here.”
As she walked into the kitchen, she realized just how much she meant those words. Her two worlds of Irish and Cree were colliding right now. Having Grandma Moses here tipped the balance.
Chris gave her a big hug and a kiss; he smelled like food. She almost wanted to lick him.
“How’s it going? Have the battle lines been drawn between Uncle Cahal and Grandma Moses?” Bernadette asked.
Chris chuckled as he went back to stirring a large pot of vegetables. “Oh, yeah. Cahal was quite expressive and jovial until your grandma came to the doo
r. He fled to his room after a half hour.” He poured her a large glass of red wine.
Bernadette took a sip of her wine. “Well, this is going to make things cozy here. I’ll have to tell Cahal he’s got the sofa.”
“I’ve already got it covered,” Chris said as he checked the oven to see how the roast salmon was doing.
“Harvey dropped in from next store to introduce himself. Cahal and him got along like old pals. I think Cahal likes Harvey because he’s of German descent.”
“And why is that?” Bernadette asked, taking another sip of wine and starting to feel human.
“Check your history. The Republic of Ireland got help from Germany in their feud with England sometime in early nineteen hundred,” Chris said.
“Ah, the old saying, the enemy of my enemy is my friend.”
“You got it. So anyway, after your grandma showed up, Harvey came over and saw the situation and offered his guest room to Cahal,” Chris said.
“That’s great,” Bernadette said, “but I really don’t think we can impose on Harvey like that.”
“Harvey said he won’t take no for an answer. He’s already told Cahal he has some good Irish Whiskey and a DVD of a movie called the Black 47, he said it’s like the Irish equivalent of Braveheart. Cahal is packing his bag. I think it’s best for all. Your grandmother might take him apart if they’re together too much.”
Bernadette nodded her head and looked in the living room. “You got me there. It would be Custer’s last stand all over again.”
Chris topped up her wine glass and made her way to the bedroom where she changed out of her jeans and t-shirt and into a pair of casual cotton pants with a comfy sweater.
After she’d washed her face and put on a bit of make-up to look less like she had just been through the world’s worst day of crime detection, she went to the small desk they had in the bedroom.
She scrolled her texts. Chief Durham liked the idea of checking with cab companies. He was authorizing extra shifts and overtime to work on anything that would solve the murders. He also said he’d received the identities of the suspects. He’d sent them in an attached email.
Deadly Ancestors: A Bernadette Callahan Mystery (Bernadette Callahan Detective Series Book 5) Page 10
