Dana opened her palms imploringly. “Why should I spread lies around? You know how it is. There’s always something that sticks to you. And Ken doesn’t deserve that.”
“Nevertheless it would be better to tell Ron Halprin. I know that Melanie Pleeke has made contact with the RCMP.”
Suddenly Fran’s soft face appeared before her mind’s eye. Dead eyes in a sad, pale face. Fran must have felt betrayed by everybody. By Dana. By her foster parents. By Hank, who didn’t want to move away. By Harrison Miller, whose oldest son he wanted to win over with an outfitter license that would bind him to himself and Whatou Lake. By Savannah, who was spying on her. By Lynn Prett, the bear researcher, who perhaps wanted Hank more than she was willing to admit. And maybe also by Tessa, who didn’t have much time for her. She must have been very confused. Before, Fran never would have had anything to do with a woman like Melanie Pleeke.
Dana turned a worried face to her: “We’ve got to stick together, Tessa. That’s our only chance. We can’t afford to let the murderer get away because of a ridiculous thing like this. Fran went through a crisis. She was psychologically unstable. You’ve got to protect your family.”
“If Fran was so unstable, why didn’t somebody help her?”
“We didn’t know everything. The various pieces of the puzzle are only coming together now.”
“So do you think that Fran killed Hank and the children?”
“No, for God’s sake, no, I absolutely don’t think that is the case. She couldn’t have done it; she was here in Whatou Lake.”
“We actually don’t know where she was on Tuesday morning, as—”
Alarmed, Dana interrupted her. “She didn’t have a car, and nobody had taken her out to the farm in the morning. Her body was found here in Whatou Lake. Please stop plaguing yourself with such thoughts.”
Tessa nodded weakly. She knew that Dana meant well. She needed her support. Nevertheless the conversation was draining her. She looked at her watch and took one of the blouses out of the shopping bag.
“I’ve got to change clothes for the press conference.”
Slowly she unwrapped the light-blue blouse from the paper tissue. The satin fabric reflected the light that came through the window. She wanted to stand up, but she couldn’t. She sat there as if glued to the sofa. She closed her eyes and everything started spinning.
“What’s going on? What’s wrong with you?” Dana jumped up. Tessa felt her hands on her shoulders. She couldn’t react. It was if she had turned to ice.
“Tessa! Tessa! Speak to me!”
A hand nervously rubbed her right cheek. Then the left one. The rubbing became slaps. Slowly, very slowly, Tessa came to.
She blinked. “I can’t do this,” she blurted out.
“What can’t you do?”
“I can’t . . . go in front of the cameras . . . all these people . . . I can’t talk about Fran and the kids and Hank.”
“I know, I know, it’s terribly hard.” Dana put her arms around her like a mother and drew her closer.
I’d just like to keep sitting here, Tessa thought, and not get up again. “If you had seen the bodies . . . in the morgue . . .” It was as if the terror, the brutality of the murders had only now entered her consciousness. The children’s fear as they were hunted down and killed. One after the other. Hank, who perhaps in the last moment realized what would happen to the children. Who maybe realized that he was in the hands of a murderer—and his kids, too. Fran, who was thrown into a shack like a piece of garbage.
Dana’s voice got through to her. “Tessa, do it for Fran and the children. You can do that. If anybody can do it, you’re the one.”
“I don’t know . . . I don’t know if I can control myself. I . . . What if I start screaming in anger?”
“You won’t do that. I know you too well for that, Tessa.” Dana patted her on her shoulder.
“What makes you think you know that?”
“You were brought up to function. That’s how you’re wired. When it really matters, you will work like a machine. Maybe it would have been good for you to scream earlier.”
Tessa shivered, and Dana massaged her arms to comfort her. But inside she was still cold.
“I’ll leave my pistol with the police,” she said. “It’s safer there.”
Dana gently shook her head. “You have other ways of disarming a murderer, Tessa. You can defend yourself in other ways. You know the whole justice system. The weapons of the law. You are stronger than you think.”
Because of that, some people might find me dangerous, Tessa thought.
She was loath to leave Dana’s loving embrace. As if in a trance, she went into the bathroom. When she opened the door, she smelled a scent she recognized from Cindy’s boutique.
She turned on her heels and went back into the kitchen, where Dana was putting the dishes away. “Where did you get this essential oil?”
Dana was holding a teaspoon in her hand. “What oil?”
“The fragrance in your bathroom.”
“The fragrance . . . oh, the aroma lamp? What about it?”
“Where did you get it?”
Dana looked at her confused. “It must have been a present . . . who gave it to me . . . ?” She put the spoon on the table. “I think it was from Fran.”
“Cindy said that Fran had never been in her boutique.”
“What does Cindy have to do with it?”
“I got the same essential oil from Cindy this morning as a sample.” She showed her the little bottle. “When did Fran give you this lamp?”
Dana crossed her arms.
“That must’ve been on my birthday. Back then we hadn’t fought yet.” Her face turned sad. “She also gave me cookies she had baked.” She wrinkled her brow. “Fran was certainly in Cindy’s boutique at least once. She showed Cindy how to give insulin injections to her dog. Cindy just couldn’t get that straight. She didn’t want to wait for weeks before the vet flew in again.”
Tessa still had the blouse on her arm. “Why in the boutique and not at home?”
“I really can’t give you an answer to that. Maybe because it was more convenient? But I can’t imagine Fran ever bought anything there for herself. She’s really more of a hippie. Why is that so important to you?”
“Because . . . so much just doesn’t add up. Savannah told me that three weeks ago on a Wednesday afternoon she saw Fran with Harrison Miller in his pickup. In the parking lot across from the Friendly Piggy restaurant. Harrison had his arm around Fran’s shoulder.”
“But that’s crazy!” Dana said. “I understand why that would upset you. Fran would never let that happen. She hated Harrison. That’s another one of Savannah’s inventions to make herself seem important.” She caressed Tessa’s cheek. “I wish that I could keep that all away from you.”
Without a word, Tessa pressed Dana’s hand and went back into the bathroom. She freshened up, put on the new blouse, and ran a comb through her red-highlighted hair.
It was her last private moment before she drove to the arena where, in an hour, the police would present their information.
35
Tessa made her way through the crowds streaming into the arena, her eyes covered by sunglasses. Dana wanted to hide herself in the back of the hall and let Tessa go alone to the front. The arena had been turned into an auditorium with rows of chairs. There were four tables in the stage area but nobody was sitting there yet. On the side, reporters, technicians, and a number of TV cameras had taken their positions. Tessa saw Savannah’s orange faux-leather jacket in the third row next to her mother. Martha looked up as Tessa sat down next to her. The expression on her face didn’t look promising. “Where’s Dad?” Tessa whispered.
Her mother sounded angry. “He had to go again to a police interrogation.”
Tessa was taken by complete surprise. “When?”
“When you went shopping at Cindy’s boutique.”
Tessa heard the annoyance in her voice. You weren’t there wh
en we needed you.
“And you also took the car. If Savannah hadn’t driven us here . . .”
Tessa didn’t listen to her anymore. She was thinking about her father. Ron Halprin must have wanted something from him that was really important, if he had asked for this interview so shortly before the press conference began. From the corner of her eye, she noticed that Savannah was trying to get her attention. She motioned discreetly to the right. Tessa realized that Harrison, Lionel, and Cindy Miller had just sat down. She couldn’t see Glenda anywhere. Lionel looked in her direction and greeted her with a short nod. She returned the greeting and noticed the crutches next to him. Cindy looked ahead, motionless; her chestnut-brown hair sparkled in the stage lights. Harrison and Lionel observed the public carefully.
The hall vibrated under the cacophony of voices. The rows filled up. No one went over to Martha Griffins to offer their condolences. The TV cameras seemed to intimidate the people of Whatou Lake. Was Tsaytis Chelin there, too? And what about Telford Reed? Tessa didn’t want to turn her head and search the crowd as Harrison and Lionel did; she avoided the stares that came at her from all directions. Journalists sat in the two rows in front of her. They had tape recorders and notebooks ready. Tessa would rather have been standing somewhere in the back, like Dana.
The RCMP officers appeared from out of nowhere. Tessa recognized some of them and of course Ron Halprin, whose face seemed even more serious and tense than usual. They took their seats at the tables in the front. Tessa felt uneasy. Her father had still not shown up.
A local policeman of Whatou Lake gave a short introduction, and then Kate Jennings, the RCMP officer who also acted as media liaison, took over the microphone: “The special forces of the Vancouver Homicide Unit have been asked by the police of Whatou Lake for support in investigating the brutal murders of Hank Miller and his children, Breena, Clyde, and Kayley. Last night the body of Fran Miller, Hank Miller’s wife and the mother of the three children, was found on the outskirts of Whatou Lake. We are treating the death of Fran Miller as suspicious. Sergeant Halprin, who is leading the investigation, will comment on the cases now. Later you can ask him questions.”
Halprin’s voice sounded steady but it wasn’t without emotion. “The terrible events of the last days are as shocking to our RCMP officers and me as they are for you. For the last four days we have been working night and day to resolve these crimes. We have excellent experts, and together we are making progress in this investigation. In the meantime we already have gained many important insights, which we are not making public at this time because the investigation is ongoing and so is the coroner’s inquest. That’s why you will only hear a few details; we don’t want to endanger a successful conclusion of the investigation. I hope you understand that.” He narrowed his eyes. The bright lights of TV cameras seemed to bother him.
“Passersby found the body of Fran Miller last night on Bob Barker’s unoccupied property. The cause of her death is still under investigation. We didn’t find any external wounds on the body that would point to a certain cause of death. Bob Barker is not considered a suspect. He has been in the hospital for the last few weeks.”
Halprin tried hard to look directly out into the crowd. It had become silent in the arena. “The more help we get from you, the sooner we will get to the bottom of this. There is now a reward of fifty thousand dollars for decisive tips leading to the solving of this crime. Your help is extremely important. The faster we reach our goal of catching the perpetrator, the faster you will feel safe again in your community.” He addressed the man next to him. ”Constable, I now turn the mic over to you.”
Suddenly there was an uproar in the crowd. The noise level made it hard for the constable to begin with his explanations. Tessa couldn’t make out whether it was the reward of fifty thousand dollars that had caused the commotion or the fact that Halprin wasn’t going to give any details about the investigation.
The constable raised his voice to cut through the noise. “I want to underline the importance of some steps that we have to take. In view of the latest developments, we are advising you to lock your doors. I know that doesn’t seem to be necessary here, and that is why we are recommending this strongly. In the same way, you should lock your car doors. Never go out alone if possible. Especially not in the evening or at night. If you really must go out, we advise you to have someone with you. In general make sure you are being careful, and keep a close watch on your children. Pick up the kids from school or from sporting events. Always know where your kids are. Don’t leave any guns lying around where people who shouldn’t have them could take them. Report to us if a weapon has gone missing. We can be reached at this number on the white board. We are available any hour day and night.”
There was a baby screaming somewhere outside. It was now time for questions. A female journalist was quickest. “When did Fran Miller die? Is she a suspect in the murder of her children, or not?”
Tessa couldn’t understand why anyone was still thinking that Fran was the murderer when the police had spoken so forcefully to the public about potential dangers. But she also knew that journalists needed direct quotations and therefore had to ask questions like this.
Ron Halprin took over the mic: “We cannot answer your first question at this point because of the ongoing investigation. Your second question: At this point there are no indications that Fran Miller was involved in the murder of her family.”
Tessa heard how her mother sighed deeply, but the next question caught her attention. “Do you have any clues that Fran Miller was killed by the same murderer who killed her husband and the children?”
“The exact cause of death of Fran Miller is still under investigation. It’s too early to come to any conclusions about it.”
Halprin’s answer was vague. Tessa didn’t expect any more surprises on this afternoon, which simultaneously disappointed and relieved her. It would make her conversations with the media simpler: she could hide behind the silence of the police.
The reporters didn’t give up. “You said that Fran Miller didn’t have any external injuries. Why, then, is her death suspicious?”
“Because Fran Miller, after the murder of her family, was found dead in very unusual circumstances in an unusual place.”
One of the TV reporters jumped in: “Do the killed grizzly bears have something to do with the murder cases? Are poachers perhaps behind it all?”
“We are following all possible clues. We can’t exclude anything at this point.”
“Could it also be a crime of passion?”
“What do you mean exactly by a crime of passion?”
“A disappointed lover or a jealous business associate.”
“As we’ve already noted, we are following all leads. And that’s exactly why we need the general public’s help.”
“So there aren’t any clues coming from relatives of the deceased?” It was the reporter from the Whatou Lake News who had popped up in the hospital when Tessa and her father had identified the bodies. Where was Dad?
Ron Halprin’s voice stayed businesslike. “Please understand that we can‘t divulge such specific information. A police investigation is based on trust and integrity. Both families of the victims have been very cooperative and—”
“So no family members are under suspicion?” the young reporter broke in.
Tessa saw Harrison Miller leap up, his voice could be heard in the arena even without a mic: “This kind of speculation has no place here. Let the police do their work and especially”—he made a dramatic gesture—“the local people should have a chance to ask their own questions.”
The RCMP lady tried to calm things down. “Mayor Miller, we understand your concerns and have set aside time just for questions from the local public . . .”
Somebody shouted: “We would like to know why the thugs who are killing our bears have not been caught.” A lot of people turned their heads; even Tessa couldn’t resist the temptation. “Somebody is killing the grizzlies
and taking away our main source of income. And what do the police do? Nothing!” The man who made this accusation was a member of the Sitklat’l band.
“At the moment we really have bigger problems than a dead bear. We’re dealing with the murders of whole families.” Tessa couldn’t make out whose voice that was.
“Could we please carry out this discussion in an orderly fashion?” the police spokeswoman implored. “We want everybody to—”
A sharp cry cut through the air. More screams followed.
Once again heads turned quickly to the back rows to see what was going on. Tessa had to squint her eyes because she could hardly believe what she saw.
36
Like in a horror movie, a person staggered forward. Blood was splattered both on her face and on her light-colored jacket.
A thin, almost emaciated woman. No longer young, but with a pale childlike face distorted by horror. The woman shook off the hands of people who wanted to grab her. Halprin and his colleagues were already on the move, whereas the members of the local police stared at the woman in disbelief.
Her wild, whimpering voice echoed through the hall: “Where is Rob? Where is my husband?”
Immediately, she was surrounded by the police. Tessa watched how the woman was laid on pillows made from quickly tossed jackets. Quick orders, hectic movements, children crying all around. The RCMP spokeswoman announced: “We are terminating the event now. Please go home in a quiet and orderly fashion.”
In the arena it was so loud that Tessa had to scream: “Who is that?”
“Melanie Pleeke.” Savannah grabbed Martha by the arm. “It’s best that we take Mom out of here.”
The walkway between the chairs was swarming with people, some trying to push forward to see better, and others trying to get to the exit.
MURDEROUS MORNING: A heart-stopping crime novel with a stunning end. Page 23
