Dawn was waiting for her in the library. She was reading a book at the long table facing the door. She jumped up and grabbed her knapsack when she saw Kala. “I was getting tired of waiting.” They were in the parking lot before Dawn asked, “So? Am I being suspended?”
“Nope, but we’re going to have to come up with a plan to keep Mrs. Zelasko and Ms. Jones happy. We can talk about it tomorrow. I’m going to pick up some submarine sandwiches for supper and then I have to head out for a meeting at seven. Will you be okay for a few hours on your own?”
“I’ll be fine. Besides, I’m not alone. Taiku keeps me company.”
They got into the truck. Kala leaned on the steering wheel and looked sideways at Dawn. “Do you like living with me? It’s okay if you say no. I need to be reassured that you are where you want to be.”
Dawn didn’t look away. “I like living with you, Aunt Kala.”
“Then we’re good?”
“We’re good.”
Kala reached over and turned on the engine. “Well then, we’ll just have to figure out what we have to do to keep you with me.”
Perhaps it was a coincidence that Marci Stokes was sitting at the same table that she, Gundersund, and Rouleau had claimed on their previous visits to the Merchant, but the sight of her there gave Kala pause. What were the odds that the reporter would pick their regular table in a place this size? Marci had her back turned, typing away at something on a laptop. Her copper hair was pulled back with a couple of clips but looked untidy, as if she didn’t care about her appearance. Kala watched her for several seconds from the doorway before crossing the floor and taking the seat across from her. Marci looked at her over reading glasses resting on the edge of her nose.
“Good, you made it. Drink?” She raised her glass and rattled the ice cubes to attract the waitress. “I’m having a vodka soda.”
“Coffee would be fine.”
“Coffee and another one of these.” Marci slid her glass onto the waitress’s tray. She closed her laptop and took off her reading glasses, setting them on top of the case. “You’ve managed to remain anonymous on the Internet aside from the one Sudbury Star article and some publicity around a couple of recent cases.”
“What do you need to know?” Kala still wasn’t sure which way to play this.
“Your childhood. We could start there.” Marci pulled a small tape recorder out of her pocket. “Do you mind?”
“Can we talk off the record first?”
“If you like.” Marci tucked the recorder back into her pocket. She sat back in the chair as the waitress set their drinks onto the table. When the girl left, Marci took a sip from her glass and watched while Kala added cream to her coffee. “So, what did you want to talk about, off the record?”
“I was wondering how you came across that article. It’s not like it was recent or earth-shattering news.”
“Just a regular scan on all the officers. We do them now and then to look for any … issues.”
Kala wasn’t convinced this was how she’d found the article but would let it go. The fact was that Stokes had the story and it was time to do some damage control. She’d try some honesty mixed with pleading. “I might have had a rougher past than many, but I’m at a point in my life that talking about it to the public could harm me personally. You see, my niece is living with me and I’m trying to keep her from being moved into foster care. If this story about my past comes out, I’ll likely lose her.”
“Surely not. Yours is a story of triumph over terrible odds. We can emphasize the positive. You’ll be an inspiration and role model.”
“Not if my niece’s social worker hears about this. She only let me have Dawn temporarily because she believes I’ve led a spotless life.”
“The social worker can’t be that naive.”
“Fresh out of university and eager to save the world, one sad kid at a time. She’s already put me on notice in several conversations, making it clear that my exemplary life is the only reason she let Dawn live with me. I’m attempting to make this a more permanent living arrangement, but I need the social worker to sign the papers.”
“Why is your niece placed with you? How old is she?”
Kala’s normal aversion to speaking about herself and her family conflicted with her need to win this woman over. “Dawn is thirteen. Her parents are both doing time for robberies. I’m all that’s standing between her and life in foster care, not a system that I’d recommend to anybody.”
Marci took another drink from her glass, never taking her eyes from Kala. She didn’t say anything but Kala could tell that she was thinking things over. Kala took a drink of coffee while she waited. Her hand trembled and she wrapped both hands around the mug as she set it back on the table.
“How about I put the story on the backburner for now? If your situation with your niece changes, we can agree to meet again and you can give me more background.”
A deal with the devil. Did she have a choice? “Yeah. Thanks for understanding.”
“I’m not in this business to ruin a kid’s life.”
Kala took another drink from the coffee mug and thought about leaving. She reached around for her purse hanging on the back of her chair. “I should be going.” She started feeling inside the bag for her wallet.
Marci waved a hand. “This is on me. I dragged you out. One more thing before you leave. We heard Ivo Delaney hanged himself today. Did he confess to killing his family?”
“I can’t really say anything that’s not been released publicly. I believe there’s another press conference in the morning.”
Marci smiled. “You really are a closed off person, aren’t you? I guess I’ll have to wait to question Rouleau tomorrow.”
Kala stood and slung her purse over her shoulder. “He’s in Ottawa but Captain Heath will be available.”
“What’s Rouleau doing in Ottawa?”
“A personal matter. Well, thanks again for the coffee and for hearing me out.”
“I’ll admit that I’m a bulldog with a good story, so don’t think this is the last you’ll see of me.” Marci smiled again and opened her laptop. She was typing with her head down when Kala walked away.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Rouleau called her back shortly before eleven. She’d just checked that Dawn was asleep and climbed into bed when her cellphone buzzed on her bedside table. She turned the lamp on and checked the name before answering.
“How are you, sir?”
“Not too bad, Stonechild, all things considered. The visitation is tomorrow and the funeral will be the following afternoon. Frances asked for no fuss, but Gordon appears to need this ceremony to get through. Who am I to judge?”
“People find comfort in ritual.”
“I suppose. I got your message. Gundersund and Heath have also been in touch.”
He sounded sad and Kala hesitated. Should she tell him her concerns about the case or carry on without telling him? He read something of her mood in the silence because he said, “You’re not convinced that Ivo Delaney killed them, are you?”
“I think we have loose ends.”
“Heath is of the opinion that we don’t need to waste any more resources digging into his past. The case has cost quite a bit already with the river search, which will have to resume when the water recedes.”
“We’ve been told to wrap things up, but …”
“Did you have something left to do?”
“The warden at Millhaven got back to me late today, and I have an appointment to meet Benoit Manteau tomorrow morning.”
“If I was to tell you to go ahead, I’d be countering Heath’s directive.”
“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to put you in an awkward spot.” He was silent again and she decided it was time to end the call. Rouleau didn’t need this distraction whe
n he was dealing with such loss. “I’ll call the warden and cancel.”
“No. I want you to go and interview Benoit Manteau. Like you, I’m not convinced of Delaney’s guilt. He might well have killed his family but all of our evidence so far is circumstantial. What time is your appointment?”
“Nine-thirty, right after their breakfast.”
“You’re okay to go alone?”
“Of course.”
She could almost hear the smile in his voice. He knew she didn’t like having a partner. “I’ll run interference if necessary. Give me a report afterwards. We’ll go from there.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Don’t thank me. I want you to do a complete job before we close the file. Violet and Adele deserve our best effort.”
Millhaven Institution housed approximately four hundred of the country’s most violent offenders. Located in the town of Bath just outside Kingston, “Thrill Haven” was surrounded by a double thirty-foot razor fence with observation towers in each corner. Armed patrol vehicles with Colt Canada C7 rifles and parabolic microphones that picked up sounds from many metres away were on guard day and night. The three main living units and the segregation unit were bursting at the seams with the closing of Kingston Penitentiary; the packed units radiated out from a central axis so that offenders could be observed in their living quarters.
Kala had expected the thorough search of her person and belongings that she received after reporting to the security desk and signing the visitors’ log. She passed through a metal detector and her bag was placed into a locker. Her phone and recording devices also were not allowed inside the prison. The Correctional Services victim liaison coordinator met her and led her through the locked gate and into the waiting room, inviting her to sit at a round table with seats bolted into the floor. Another male guard came out from behind a glass partition to greet her. The room had the chemical smell of the recently cleaned. The walls were painted a cheery green but there was no hiding the institutional feel of the place.
“Benoit Manteau has been a model prisoner and he knows the drill. He’ll sit across the table from you and will keep his hands where we can see them. There’s a microphone in the table top and I’ll be listening in on your conversation. If I hear anything worrisome, the guards will step in immediately. Any questions?”
“None that I can think of.”
She looked at the green walls for ten minutes before a side door opened and Benoit Manteau entered escorted by an armed guard. Benoit was wearing an orange jumpsuit and black shoes and he was smaller than she would have thought based on his reputation. His size wasn’t the only surprise. Unlike his brother Etienne, he was beardless, grey hair shaved close at the sides and spiked on the top of his head. His eyes were black and hard; his skin permanently tanned. Kala was puzzled.
“You aren’t the same race as your brother.”
“That’s what you came all this way to tell me?” Benoit set his hands on the table and one of his exposed wrists had a fleur-de-lis tattooed in green ink. His legs were spread wide under the table. “We have different mothers. Mine’s Hispanic but lived in Canada her whole life. Etienne’s not so much.”
“Did you grow up with Etienne?”
“Yeah. His mother wasn’t all that motherly as it turned out. Lucky for him, my dad was stable with a good job and my mother liked kids.”
“Where did your cousin Philippe Lebeau fit into your childhood?”
“My father has a sister, Lou. She raised Philippe alone in an apartment building in downtown Hull, now called Gatineau. Her boyfriend took off right after he was born, so she made do on welfare when she didn’t have work. We lived in the richer English-speaking part called Aylmer until we moved to Montreal in our late teens. Anyhow, Philippe was just at our place, you know after school, weekends. It got so my mother just set him a place at the table.” Benoit laughed. “I used to get him to do my chores. He never wanted to go home to their dumpy apartment.”
“Didn’t his mother miss him?”
“What do you think? She was seventeen when she had him and not ready to play house from what I remember.”
“You’re forty now and Etienne and Philippe are thirty-eight, so at least twenty years in Montreal?”
“Sounds about right. I was eighteen and they followed me a year after that. We’ve always been tight. First time a cop’s been this interested in my family tree.”
Despite what she knew about Benoit Manteau, Kala could see his charm. It would be easy to be lulled into carelessness by his deep, melodic voice. His eyes were velvety black and loaded with sexual innuendo. His stare was laser-like, no blinking, no backing away.
“You’ve heard about Adele Dufour and the child.”
“I got a call from Etienne, so yeah, I know about them.”
“It must have been a shock.” Kala waited.
“What, that she took my kid or that they were both killed?”
“Both.”
Benoit sat back in his chair and looked at her. He spoke with icy precision. “She stole my kid and then she died. I have no problem with retribution, Officer Stonechild, but my daughter being drowned? If I could, I would make the man pay. Unfortunately, I can’t do much from my cell. I had nothing to do with any of this.”
He pulled something out of his pocket and leaned forward, setting a crumpled photo on the table. Kala saw the guard move closer to have a look, then step back once he saw that it was a photo.
She asked, “May I?”
Benoit nodded and she reached for the picture. A baby in a pink sleeper with black eyes open, skin a coffee brown and a tuft of black hair. The baby looked to be a month old. Kala looked at Benoit. He was staring at her, his unblinking eyes watching for her reaction. Calculating, assessing. She thought he was waiting for her to confirm a suspicion.
“Beautiful baby.” She kept her racing heart from affecting the evenness of her voice. She met his eyes and smiled. “Do you have other children?”
“No.” He shrugged. “I would have liked a son but my daughter is … was what I was living for. I wanted out of here to find her. Cécile sent this photo to me when I was inside, waiting for the bail hearing.” He shook his head. “We know how that turned out.” He reached for the picture. He tucked it back inside his pocket without looking at it.
“And your appeal?”
“Next month. My lawyer gives me a decent shot. She’s come up with enough for a judge to have another look anyhow. She’s been working on it for almost three years. I was set up.”
That’s what they all say. “Well, good luck with that. I guess this isn’t too far for your family to visit you since the move.”
He paused then shrugged. “My brother Etienne has been once. Philippe is planning to come when he can swing getting away. Cécile says it’s too painful but we talk on the phone. My parents are dead. I have an Uncle Maurice in Smiths Falls, but he’s gone into assisted living. We used to spend summers at his cottage on Otter Lake. What I’d give for a week there now.”
“Has the cottage sold?”
“No. Still there, waiting for me to get out on appeal.” Benoit smiled as if seeing himself lying on the dock with the whole wide world open in front of him.
“I understand that Etienne owns the bar now in Montreal.”
“That’s right.”
“You’ve been essentially cut out of the business. That doesn’t bother you?”
Benoit spread his hands wide, palms up. “I have nowhere to spend money in here.”
“What happens when you get out?”
“I’m going to pick up Cécile and head somewhere warm for six months. Then, who knows?”
“I guess you haven’t heard that the man who was married to Adele hanged himself yesterday.”
The dark circles inside Benoit’s eyes expanded, the
only sign that the news came as a surprise. “I hadn’t heard. I won’t pretend to be sorry. He might have thought about sparing my kid before he did himself in.”
“All of this has been a terrible waste.”
She wanted to ask him if he’d ordered the hit that landed him in prison, but she knew he’d deny it. He was no fool. Whatever he said was being picked up by the microphone and his appeal was imminent. That left her with nothing else of relevance to discuss. She signalled the guard. “I’ll be going then. Thanks for seeing me, and again, I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Yeah, me too.”
On the way out Kala asked at the guard desk if she could check the log of Benoit Manteau’s visitors. The two guards talked over her request and one put a call in to the warden. Another twenty minute wait and permission granted, she made note of one visit by Etienne Manteau on a Tuesday some two weeks earlier. He’d had two other visitors since Benoit was moved to Millhaven, but she didn’t recognize either name. She wrote them both into her notebook.
Head down, deep in thought, Kala crossed the parking lot to her truck. She unlocked the door and climbed inside, taking a moment to jot down her impressions of the visit and the facts she’d gleaned in her notebook. Once done, she took a last look at the imposing prison wall. Dawn’s father was also being housed in Millhaven. She’d never met him and had thought about arranging a visit, but not this time. When she wasn’t involved in a case, she’d come back and meet him to satisfy her own curiosity.
She looked at the clock on the dashboard as she started the truck. It was nearly two o’clock and her stomach was growling. She unrolled the window and tilted her head outside to take a deep breath of fresh spring air. A low cloud cover had blotted out the sun and the air smelled of rain. More rain. She thought about Benoit Manteau and the crumpled photo he kept on his person. She wanted to talk over what she’d discovered with Rouleau but didn’t want to burden him any more than he was. That left confiding in Gundersund or going it alone. Her inclination was to forge ahead on her own, but Rouleau had made her swear not to do anything rash after the last close call. She put the truck into gear. First things first. She’d find a family restaurant and have some lunch.
Tumbled Graves Page 21
