Black Water

by Rosemary McCracken

  Celia looked hopeful. “Did Pearl have children?”

  “No, Pearl never married. She was a high school teacher and she must have retired a good ten years ago.”

  She told us a few anecdotes about Lyle in his younger days. Celia took a pen and notepad from her handbag, and scribbled them down.

  “You’ll be at the funeral on Friday?” she asked Lainey.

  “Of course.”

  “Would you give a reading from Scripture? I’ll hand you a copy when you get to the church and tell you when to come up to the pulpit.”

  “Sister, I’m not a Catholic.”

  “Doesn’t matter. You were a friend of Lyle and his wife.”

  When Lainey had left, Celia glanced at her watch. “I have to get back to the rectory. We’re cleaning the parlor and the dining room for the reception after the funeral.” She chuckled. “Father Brisebois never used those rooms.”

  Then she tapped a hand against her head. “I promised Bruce I’d drive him over to Veronica’s place this afternoon to collect his stuff.”

  “I’ll take him over.”

  “You’re sure?”

  I nodded. I wanted to talk to Veronica again.

  CHAPTER TEN

  There was no sign of a Kresge’s five-and-dime on Main Street when I drove through Bareloch with Bruce that afternoon. But I wasn’t surprised. Once a familiar landmark in cities and towns across North America, Kresge’s stores had vanished in recent years.

  A procession of cars and trucks drove by us in the opposite lane. On the sidewalks, pedestrians headed for shops, Joe’s Diner and Braeloch’s two banks.

  An image of a half-dozen baby carriages lined up on the sidewalk flashed through my mind. How could someone have taken a baby out of a carriage on this street without being seen? While not quite bustling at three o’clock on a Wednesday afternoon, Braeloch was far from deserted.

  “Turn right at the next street,” Bruce said.

  I snapped out of my reverie. “How are you doing at the rectory?”

  “Okay.”

  “I guess there’s more work to do around the church with Lyle gone.”

  Bruce’s mouth was set in a grimace. Celia had said Bruce and Lyle hadn’t got along.

  “I hear he was a difficult man to work with,” I said.

  Again, Bruce made no reply. He clearly didn’t like Lyle, but did he dislike him enough to kill him? The fire had been deliberately set.

  I pulled into the drive behind Veronica’s white Mazda. Bruce and I made our way through several inches of slushy snow when we left the car.

  Bruce doffed his tuque when Veronica came to the front door. “Here to get my stuff,” he mumbled and bent down to pull off his boots.

  Veronica’s face was gaunt and the circles under her eyes had deepened. She looked surprised to see me.

  “Hello again,” I said. “I’m in town for a few weeks for the opening of the Norris Cassidy branch.”

  She led us into her kitchen. “Don’t tell me Bruce is one of your clients.”

  He scowled at her before he disappeared down a flight of stairs.

  “I’m Bruce’s chauffeur this afternoon,” I said. “He’s staying at the Catholic church rectory, and I volunteered to drive him here to collect his clothes.”

  “Business must be slow at your investment place.”

  “It was jumping today for our official opening. Sorry you couldn’t make it. I see you’re one of our clients.”

  She pulled out a chair for me at the kitchen table. “Jenny told me I should get some investment advice. And when Lainey’s son said he could help me, I thought, why not? But I won’t let him have all my money till I’m sure he knows what he’s doing.”

  “Of course.” I took the seat. “Have you heard from Jamie?”

  She sat across from me, her face a mask of worry. “Not a word. She didn’t call on Sunday night like she always does, even when she’s away on business. Lyle told her something, and then he was killed. I’m worried about her.”

  I tried my best to calm her fears. “Everyone knew that Lyle and your daughter weren’t on friendly terms. No one would think he had confided in her. She’s probably dropped out of sight to follow up whatever he told her.”

  She searched my face. “That’s what you think?”

  I gave her a smile. “Yes. I heard that Al Barker is an old friend. Maybe…”

  She looked at me sharply and frowned. “Jenny wouldn’t go there. She’s a lawyer, after all.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Out of the question.” But she didn’t elaborate.

  “Who does Jamie see around here when she visits you?”

  “No one, really. Summers, she hikes. If the snow is good at Christmas, she’ll go cross-country skiing. Jenny likes the outdoors.”

  She didn’t bring friends to Veronica’s home, but that didn’t mean she didn’t see them somewhere else. I didn’t want that kind of relationship with my girls. I strengthened my resolve to find Jamie.

  Something crashed in the basement. Veronica hurried over to the staircase. “What’s going on down there, Bruce?”

  “Dropped some books,” he shouted back.

  She sighed as she returned to the table. “I feel badly about Bruce.”

  I gave her what I hoped was a sympathetic smile. “I’ve met his father, Ted. He runs the newspaper.”

  “Ted worked at The Times years ago when he was starting out. Then he got a job at one of the big Toronto papers, and he and Vi moved down there. They were in Toronto for years. We were all surprised when he bought The Times and came back here.”

  “And his wife?”

  “Vi’s in Highland Ridge, the old folks’ home here in town. Alzheimer’s.”

  I made a mental note to tell Nuala that Ted’s wife was alive.

  “Bruce may not be able to stay in the rectory when Father Brisebois returns,” I said. “Would Ted have room for him?”

  She frowned. “He and Bruce don’t get along. Ted can’t understand why Bruce won’t pull himself together.” She sighed. “And I’m not much better, I suppose. But I told Bruce not to smoke in the house. He’s got a fondness for the bottle, and I don’t want my home going up in flames while he’s passed out. When his cigarette smoke came up through the heat register last Thursday, I decided enough was enough.”

  “What time was that?”

  She looked surprised at my question and fingered her pearl necklace. “Ten-thirty. The Highlands Tonight had just ended.”

  That would have been enough time for Bruce to get out to Lyle’s place and back—if he had a car. I looked around the spotless kitchen. Veronica’s keys hung from a rack of pegs beside the side door, arranged according to size. One of them was a car key.

  Veronica saw me looking at the key rack. “I keep all my keys there. That way, I always know where they are.”

  She frowned and glanced at the stairs to the basement. “Now I’ll have to find someone to shovel the snow and mow the lawn. I had to clear the stairs and the walkway myself today. Didn’t get around to the drive.”

  “Did Bruce run errands in your car?”

  “No, I’d never let Bruce—”

  “Never let me what?” Bruce emerged from the basement stairwell with a bulging green garbage bag in one arm and a small stack of books in the other.

  “Nothing,” Veronica said. “Got all your things?”

  “Clothes are all here. Okay if I leave some books down there for a while?”

  She nodded. “Good luck to you, Bruce. Don’t burn down that rectory.”

  “Yeah, right,” he muttered as he made his way out the door.

  “The car’s open. I’ll be out in a sec,” I called after him and turned back to Veronica.

  “I was wondering, does Jamie?Jenny?keep her high school yearbook here?”

  Veronica’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  “I might get an idea of who her friends were in high school. One of them might know where she is.”


  She shook her head. “The best and the brightest, like my Jenny, moved away. There’s nothing to keep them here.” She sighed. “I don’t know that Jenny would approve, but if it would help you find her…”

  “I won’t tell her, Mrs. Collins,” I said.

  “Will you tell the police?if you find her?”

  I swallowed hard. “I’m not sure.”

  “I see.”

  She pulled a book out of a bookcase in the hall and handed it to me. “I hope I’m doing the right thing.”

  Celia had a pot of meat sauce on the stove when I got in. I was surprised to see Kerry Gallant at the table with Laura, glasses of wine in front of them.

  “Kerry’s here for dinner, Mom,” Laura said.

  “Your daughter came over and invited me.” He gave me a look that telegraphed, That okay with you?

  “You deserve dinner for plowing us out this morning, Kerry,” I said. “Several dinners, in fact.”

  I went into the living room where Tommy was watching a video. I gave him a hug.

  He kept his eyes on the screen. “Hi, Mrs. T.”

  I went upstairs and telephoned Tracy. I told her that Al Barker still lived in the area.

  “That’s the friend who sent Jamie the birthday card,” Tracy said.

  I didn’t tell her I had Jamie’s yearbook. That was between Veronica and myself. “I’ll see you and Farah on Saturday,” I said. “Make sure you give Farah’s brother the phone number here.”

  When I came downstairs, Celia was ladling sauce onto plates of spaghetti.

  “Get over here, Tommy,” I called. “Your favorite dinner.”

  I sat down beside Kerry and smiled as Tommy skidded up to the table.

  “What do you do around here?” I asked Kerry.

  He heaped salad onto a side plate, and passed the bowl to me. “As little as possible. I’m a kept man.”

  Celia stared at him, her ladle in midair. Laura flashed me a wicked grin.

  “Kept by whom?” I asked.

  “Wendy Wilcox.” He smiled. “That’s her place next door. She comes up on weekends.”

  “Wendy Wilcox, the Bank of Toronto’s chief economist?”

  “The same Wendy Wilcox.”

  I smiled, thinking that this was a new side to the woman often referred to as the Dragon Lady of Bay Street.

  “Kerry doesn’t do as little as possible, Mom,” Laura put in. “He’s an artist. You should see his paintings.”

  She looked at Kerry. “Does Wendy, like, give you spending money?”

  “Laura!” I said.

  He smiled at her. “Some.”

  “Way to go!” she cried.

  “Am I a kept kid?” Tommy asked, his face smeared with sauce.

  Tommy was the beneficiary of a large trust fund that had been set up by his late mother’s wealthy family. It would pay for his education and a lot more, but I saw no reason to get into that in front of Kerry. “You and Laura will both be kept until you finish school and find jobs. When you’re older, you can help out with a summer job like Laura does.”

  “Good salad, Laura,” Celia said.

  “I keep thinking about that cat,” Celia said when we were in front of the fire later that evening.

  “Cat?”

  “Lyle told me he had a cat.”

  “The police probably took it to an animal shelter,” I said.

  “I asked the lead detective, Foster, if it was being fed. He told me they hadn’t seen a cat at Lyle’s house. But it might be frightened of strangers.”

  I clinked my glass of cognac against hers. “You can’t rescue everyone, Celia. You’re doing a great job with the two-legged animals.”

  “Don’t see why I can’t try.”

  I smiled and told her about my visit to Veronica’s home that day. “She said Ted and Bruce don’t get along. Ted can’t understand why Bruce doesn’t pull himself together.”

  A cloud passed over her face. “A lot of people don’t understand mental illness. I haven’t met Bruce’s father, but he probably had high hopes for his son. Sent him to Central Canada College, the private boarding school north of Toronto. Then he was at the University of Toronto for several years. He was their only child.”

  “Bruce suffers from depression?” I asked.

  “I’m no expert, but he may be bipolar. The right meds could mean a world of difference to him. I’ve tried to get him to see a specialist in Lindsay but I haven’t got very far.”

  We sipped our drinks in silence for a while. There was still a good half-hour to go until the evening news. “Kerry’s a colorful character,” Celia finally said.

  I chuckled. “Wendy has to be a good fifteen years older than him.”

  “He must know how to keep her happy.”

  I stared at my friend, surprised to hear that from a nun. Then we both burst out laughing.

  After Celia had gone up to bed, I flipped through Jamie’s yearbook.

  The blur of smiling, hopeful faces meant nothing to me. I didn’t have time to track down alumni as Mara planned to do, so I decided to focus on the one person I knew was still in the area?Al Barker.

  According to Lainey, Al and Jamie had walked around town holding hands. They were more than just friends back then, yet Veronica had dismissed the possibility of Jamie turning to Al as “out of the question.” I wondered why.

  I looked up Alexandra Barker. I found a photo of a girl with shoulder-length blond hair and a lovely face with a determined set to the mouth.

  I turned to the back of the book where Jamie’s classmates had penned messages.

  Best of luck to a cool kid…Wish you every success…

  I scanned the signatures looking for Al’s, and there it was: The world is yours for the taking, babe! Love, Al.

  I closed the yearbook, hoping that Al would lead me to Jamie.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The temperature plummeted overnight. In the morning, the front steps of the house were coated with ice and the driveway had turned into a skating rink.

  I inched the Volvo along the drive. Vehicles flew by on the highway, which told me that the road crews had put down salt and sand. Something I wished Hank had done on the driveway.

  At the mouth of the drive, I saw a black Mercedes coming toward me on the highway. I waited for it to pass, but it slowed down and pulled onto the shoulder of the road. Kerry got out.

  I rolled down the window as he ran up to me. He leaned in, his face close enough that I could smell his morning coffee on this breath. “Come meet Wendy,” he said.

  I ground my teeth at the idea of courting the Dragon Lady. But I got out of the car and made my way through the snow. I was doing this for Kerry, I told myself.

  He introduced me to an attractive woman with auburn hair. Wendy was on the far side of fifty but her face could have served as an advertisement for Dr. Stanfield’s Toronto makeover clinic.

  “Wendy got in while I was at your place last night,” Kerry said.

  She gave a throaty chuckle. “Made a surprise visit and found my boy gone.”

  She searched my face. “Have we met before?”

  “The investment fund awards banquet last fall,” I said.

  “I remember. You run one of Norris Cassidy’s branches.” She glanced at her watch. “I’m taking Kerry into town to pick up his Jeep. Then I have to be in Toronto for an eleven-thirty meeting. Let’s get together this weekend. Kerry will organize something.”

  “I’m headed for Braeloch,” I said to Kerry. “I can give you a lift.”

  “That’s right,” Wendy said. “Norris Cassidy just opened a branch up here.”

  I glanced at my watch. “And I should be at it now.”

  I walked back to the Volvo while Kerry said his goodbyes to Wendy.

  “A good night?” I asked when he jumped into the seat beside me.

  His lips curved into a smile. “Nights are always good when Wendy’s here.”

  I eased the car onto the highway. “How long have you two been t
ogether?”

  “Three years. The bank bought one of my paintings for the lobby of its Bay Street tower. Wendy was on the selection committee. We, ah, got to know each other. She wants me to paint full-time.”

  Whatever works for them, I thought.

  Midway through the morning, I called Laura and told her I’d come by the house around twelve-thirty. I planned to drop her at the library and spend the afternoon with Tommy.

  “I have something to do this afternoon,” she said.

  I knew better than to ask what it was. I assumed she wanted to visit Kerry. That was the only place she could get to without transportation. “Take Tommy with you if you leave the house,” I told her.

  I had just turned back to the computer when there was a knock on my door. I looked up and saw Kerry in the doorway, a Norris Cassidy pamphlet in his hands.

  “They did an awesome job on this building.” Then he pointed to the pamphlet. “I see you’re holding a seminar tonight.”

  I wondered where this was going.

  “Financial planning basics,” he read. “I think I’ll come. Wendy tells me to take more interest in my finances. Maybe I’ll surprise her with a few investment ideas.”

  “I’m having an early dinner with the kids,” I said. “Drop by the house at five for a bite to eat and we can drive in together.”

  I didn’t tell him he could expect a visit from Laura and Tommy that afternoon.

  “I’d like to drive over to Lyle’s place,” Celia said when she phoned me just before noon. “Want to come?”

  “You want to rescue that cat.”

  “It may be shivering at the door.”

  I was curious to see the Critchley place. And Keith had told me to get out and about in the community, although he probably didn’t mean rescuing cats.

  “All right,” I said with feigned reluctance.

  “I’ll pick you up in an hour. We’ll stop at Joe’s for a bite.”

  “It should be somewhere around here.” Celia slowed her Hyundai as we approached a stretch of houses along Highway 123. “Sherry Vargas at the church said it was just past the Art Hut.”