“Running an errand.” He grabbed four sandwiches and left the kitchen.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“When does your first session start?” I asked Laura the next morning. She was seated at the table in her pajamas.
She rolled her eyes. “Nine, Mom. Life drawing for Kyle and me until noon.”
“Crafts for me,” Tommy chimed in.
“No classes on Saturday afternoon, but we’ll be busy little bees all morning,” Laura said. “Happy, Mom?”
“You’d better call Kyle if you want to get there on time.”
I checked my watch, thinking that Tracy and Farah would be on the road by now. The plan was for Farah, our housekeeper, to stay at Black Bear Lake to look after Tommy when Laura and Kyle returned to the city.
Laura flung one of her long legs onto the chair next to her. “Hey, what’s this?” she asked, peering into the fabric bag that was on the chair.
“That’s mine,” Celia said, approaching the table.
“Condoms,” Laura said. “A big box of condoms.”
We both stared at Celia.
“I’m taking them to the church—”
Laura snorted with laughter.
“—for the teen group that meets on Saturday afternoons.”
“Won’t you get into trouble with the brass?” I asked.
“I don’t care. The Catholic Church needs to rethink its position on contraception. Some of those kids are sexually active and they’re in no position to raise children.”
“Or get STDs,” Laura put in.
Celia nodded. “I’ll put out the condoms and let the kids help themselves. No questions asked.”
“Good for you,” Laura said.
I looked at Celia with admiration. That was one story I wanted to hear the end of.
“My first client in the Highlands deserves a house call,” Soupy said as he led the way to the parking lot behind the branch.
It was a beautiful early spring day and I was up for a brisk walk. “Veronica lives a few blocks away. Why don’t we walk over?” I asked.
“Too much slush on the streets.”
My boots were waterproof, but I didn’t bother telling him that. He wanted to show off his new car.
“Like it?” he asked when we were inside the Porsche.
I inhaled the new car smell. “Mmm.”
He patted the dashboard. “When I saw this baby, I just had to have her.”
“Must have cost a bundle.”
“Yeah, it did. The loan, you wouldn’t believe…”
I nodded, but I questioned his financial judgment. If you don’t have the money, why spend a small fortune on a luxury toy?
He grinned. “Any chance of a raise?”
I laughed. “All in good time.”
He gunned the car down Main Street a fair bit over the speed limit.
I gripped the arm of the passenger door.
He grinned. “Not scared, are you?”
I bared my teeth in a smile and hoped the police would show up.
We found Veronica sweeping her front porch. “I don’t know why I’m doing this,” she said as we came up the walk. “We’re good for a few more blizzards yet.”
She seemed more cheerful than she’d been on my other visits. I had a strong hunch that she’d heard from Jamie.
She sat us at the dining room table, and brought out a tray with a pot of tea and three cups and saucers from the kitchen. When the tea was poured, Soupy opened his briefcase and took out Norris Cassidy’s know-your-client form. I watched closely as he went over the questions on it with Veronica. He clearly enjoyed working with people.
“That wasn’t difficult,” she said when they’d finished. “Now you can put me into some good investments. Mind you, nothing risky. I’m not one of your highfliers.”
Soupy smiled at her. “That’s why I had you answer these questions. Now that I know your risk tolerance, I can choose your investments.”
She gave a small sigh. “My risk tolerance is zero.” But she didn’t seem worried about letting him manage her money—or about anything else. She appeared relaxed, even happy. I was sure Jamie had contacted her.
“I’ll get you into some blue chips and quality bonds,” he said. “Maybe some conservative mutual funds. I’ll get to work on it first thing Monday morning, and we can meet later next week to go over your portfolio.”
He glanced at me. His look telegraphed How did I do?
I gave him a thumbs-up.
“You have a lovely home,” I said to Veronica as we got up from the table. Too much white on white for me, but the place was well put together.
She looked pleased.
“Veronica and Herb had a great place out on Black Bear Lake near you,” Soupy said as we walked into the living room.
I wondered how he knew where I was staying, but news seemed to spread quickly in the Glencoe Highlands.
“A woman from Toronto bought our place,” Veronica said. “She was in your line of work. Wendy…I’ve forgotten her last name.”
“Wendy Wilcox?” I asked.
“That’s it.”
“Her place is next to where we’re staying.”
She smiled. “Summers were lovely, but I didn’t like being out there in the winter after Herb died.”
I pictured the expanse of snow between the house we were staying in and the highway. “Those long driveways can be hell after a snowfall.”
“I’ve never regretted moving into town,” she said. “Monday and Thursday afternoons, I volunteer at the public school library, and my bridge group meets every Friday afternoon. And I can walk everywhere in town. I don’t like driving in the winter.”
So she’d been playing bridge the previous day when Bruce was out in her car.
“I can see that you’re happy here,” I paused. “And that you’ve heard from your daughter.”
She looked startled. “No, I haven’t.”
She wasn’t a good liar.
My birthday falls a few days before St. Patrick’s Day, which was why I was named Patricia. When I hit forty, I tried to put a stop to celebrations of my birthday, but Michael wouldn’t hear of it. And now the girls kept up the tradition. As I drove back to Black Bear Lake that day, I found myself looking forward to the lunch the girls had planned.
Tracy’s Honda Civic was in the driveway. Inside the house, Tracy and Farah were putting the final touches on a lunch of my favorite cold foods—smoked salmon, pasta-and-artichoke salad, pita, hummus and ripe black olives.
“Where’s Sister Celia?” Tracy asked.
“Handing out condoms at the church,” I said. Seeing Tracy’s look of surprise, I added, “It’s a long story. The short version is she won’t be here for lunch.”
Laura, Kyle and Tommy came in, and we sat down to eat. For dessert, Farah brought a birthday cake with two candles to the table. One candle was in the shape of a four, the other an eight.
Laura, Tracy and Tommy sang “Happy Birthday.”
Tommy clapped his hands. “Blow out your candles and make a wish, Mrs. T.”
I made a silent wish for Jamie’s safe return, and blew out the two candles.
“Your gifts now, Mom,” Laura said.
I opened the gift-wrapped parcels the girls had placed on the table in front of me—a pretty scarf from Farah and a lightweight jacket from the girls. “For hiking around here when the snow has gone,” Laura said. “The way it’s melting, that should be in a few days.”
“This is from Devon.” Tracy set a vase that held a dozen apricot roses on the table. “He called the house last night and the flowers arrived at seven this morning. He didn’t know if there was a florist around here.”
After I was toasted with sparkling wine, Laura and Kyle announced that they were heading back to the city. With Farah on hand to look after Tommy, they wanted to be on their way.
“There’s a party at Jessie’s tonight,” Laura said. “Everyone’ll be there.”
I was about to say that I didn
’t want an empty house at their disposal, but why put ideas into their heads? And I didn’t want Tracy driving back to the city that afternoon. She’d be exhausted. Besides, she wanted to find out everything she could about Jamie while she was in the area.
Laura and Kyle waited for my reaction. As Kerry had said, it was going to happen sooner or later. Probably already had. “Drive carefully,” I told them.
When Laura and Kyle had said their goodbyes, Farah cleared the table and Tracy sat me down in front of the fireplace. “What about Jamie?” she asked.
“You haven’t heard from her?”
“No.”
I told her about my visits to Al and Ruby’s place, and the change I’d noticed in Veronica that morning. “I’m pretty sure she’s heard from Jamie.”
Tracy took one of my hands. “Take me to Al’s place.”
“I don’t think—”
“I’ve got to see Jamie. She’s been gone for ten days.”
I knew she wouldn’t take no for an answer, so we bundled up and headed outside.
“We’ll take my car.” She rummaged in her handbag for her keys. “As soon as Jamie sees it, she’ll know it’s me.”
Thirty minutes later, we pulled into Al and Ruby’s yard. Tracy parked the Honda Civic beside the blue pickup. “Stay in the car,” she said.
“I’ll go with you.”
She placed a hand on my arm. “Stay here, Mom. I’ll be okay. They’ll feel threatened by two of us.”
She was halfway to the house, when the front door opened. Al, with a barking Fang at her side, came out on the veranda holding a rifle. She yelled something, but Tracy didn’t shorten her stride.
I jumped out of the car. “Tracy, get back here!”
Al aimed the gun at her.
I heard Tracy say something. “Jamie” was all I could make of it.
Al fired into a spruce tree beside the house.
“Tracy!” I called. “Come back here.”
“I want to see Jamie!” she shouted.
The gun went off again. “Get outta here!” Al yelled.
I charged up the path. A bullet whizzed over my head.
“Both of youse! Do I have to blow yer fuckin’ heads off?”
Tracy turned back down the path, her shoulders slumped in defeat. As she got closer to me, I saw the tears on her face. I put an arm around her.
In the car, she leaned her head on the steering wheel. “I know she’s in there.”
“Honey, they don’t want people coming here. They’re running an illegal business.”
She blinked back her tears and stared at me. “What?”
“A grow-op. Seems everyone in Highlands knows about it.”
She shook her head. “Jamie never told me her friends are running a grow-op.”
“Strangers aren’t welcome. Not even you.”
A piece of the puzzle fell into place. “Especially not you. Jamie is trying to protect you by keeping you away from here.”
A police cruiser with Sergeant Bouchard at the wheel was about to turn into the lane when we reached the highway. He lifted a hand in greeting as I pulled onto the road.
Tracy turned around in her seat. “Cops are paying a visit.” She turned back to me. “He’s looking for Jamie.”
“Al and Ruby are quite capable of taking care of her.”
Everyone in the township seemed to know about Al and Ruby’s business. The police weren’t fools and they would have got wind of it. It would have been a no-brainer to shut it down. Unless they were on the take.
“I think Sergeant Bouchard is making a social call,” I said. “He probably expects a payoff.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The Royal Canadian Legion’s Branch 696 Braeloch was hopping that night. Bob Marley’s “One Love” was blasting out of the open back door as Tracy and I got out of the Volvo. What The High Lonesome Wailers lacked in musicality, they made up for in sheer energy and volume.
Kerry’s Jeep pulled into the parking lot. Wendy jumped out, dressed in a fringed leather jacket and hand-tooled western boots. She let out a whoop, lifted her arms above her head and swayed to the reggae beat. “Time to party!”
I introduced them to Tracy, and we headed for the front door with Wendy leading the way. Kerry winked at me and hurried after her.
Tracy shook her head. “So that’s the Bank of Toronto’s chief economist.”
“Letting her hair down tonight.”
Tracy rolled her eyes.
Soupy had saved seats for us at his parents’ table and we found Nuala seated beside Lainey. Tracy and I draped our jackets over the backs of the chairs across from them.
A stocky, bald man extended his hand across the table. “I’m Burt Campbell.” Soupy had told me his dad and his older brother ran Highlands Electric. Burt was also the township’s reeve, its highest elected official.
When the introductions were over, Burt stood and picked up the empty plastic beer jug. “I’ll get us a round. Beer for everyone?”
We all nodded. The Legion has never been known known for its chardonnay.
The band struck up Buddy Holly’s “Peggy Sue” as Burt sauntered over to the bar. Wendy turned to Kerry. “Shall we?” She pulled him onto the dance floor before he could answer.
They elbowed their way to the middle of the floor. Then Kerry grabbed her hand, twirled her around and pushed her away. She sashayed out, then moved back to him, turned and took his hand. They touched hips, and he twirled her again. The other dancers stepped back to watch. They clapped and hooted when the number was over.
Kerry and Wendy returned to the table, flushed and grinning broadly. “That was awesome!” she cried, fanning herself with her hands as she took her seat.
The band launched into another Buddy Holly tune, “That’ll Be the Day,” and I studied the foursome on the stage. They were all in their late twenties, and I remembered Soupy telling me the band had started up when he was in high school. Our junior advisor was his usual exuberant self on lead guitar, his goofy grin a permanent prop. A fellow with cropped blond hair played bass guitar. A man with a shaven head and rings in his ears was on drums, and he shared the spotlight as lead singer with Mara Nowak.
The band slowed its tempo for Patsy Cline’s “Crazy,” and several older couples drifted onto the floor. Mara’s husky voice floated through the room. She was pretty good.
“Dance?” Kerry shouted into my ear.
I glanced at Wendy’s seat. It was empty.
“Washroom,” he said.
I looked at Tracy. She was closer to his age; why hadn’t he asked her to dance? She waved toward the dance floor. “Go on, Mom.”
Reluctantly, I got up. Kerry took my hand and led me onto the floor.
He held me closer than I liked and breathed into my ear. I felt like a teenager at a high school social.
When the music stopped, he nibbled my earlobe. “Dinner this week?”
I shook my head.
Wendy gave me an appraising look when we returned to the table, then lifted a shoulder and returned to her conversation with Nuala and Lainey.
Tracy wasn’t in her seat and her jacket was gone. Thinking that she might have stepped outside for some fresh air, I checked the front door. People were huddled together outside smoking. But no Tracy. Same thing at the back door.
I headed to the washroom where several women were lined up for the three cubicles. “Tracy!” I called. No answer.
I remembered that she had a key to my Volvo. Had she gone back to Al and Ruby’s place? I ran down the back stairs to the parking lot, my stomach churning. But the car was right where I’d left it.
Back at the table, I asked the others if Tracy had told them where she was going.
“She said nothing. Just came out of the washroom with Ruby Taylor and grabbed her jacket,” Lainey said. “Must’ve gone for a smoke.”
But Tracy didn’t smoke.
Burt gave me a wink. He probably thought she’d gone to score some weed.
&nbs
p; Was Ruby taking Tracy to Jamie? I had no choice but to wait until Tracy returned to find out. And I’ve never liked waiting.
When the band took a break, Soupy and Mara came over. We told them how great they sounded. Mara took Tracy’s empty chair beside me, and Soupy went to join Greg Nowak and his wife at the table behind ours.
“No Highlands Tonight on Saturdays?” Wendy asked Mara.
“Show runs every night of the year except Christmas, but I have every second weekend off. We’ll have something about this fundraiser tonight. Our camera crew was here earlier.”
Wendy and Nuala returned to their conversation, and a couple came over to chat with Lainey and Burt. I kept my eyes on the door.
“Heard anything more about Jen Collins?” Mara asked me.
“Not a thing.”
“I think she’s out there with Al and Ruby.”
“They don’t like visitors, do they?” I said.
“They try to keep a low profile. You’re a stranger and I’m media.” Then the smile fell off her face. “They’ve been having trouble lately.”
“Biker trouble?”
“Yeah.”
I thought of Roger Bouchard turning into Al and Ruby’s lane. “Why don’t the police shut down the grow-op?” I asked.
She held out her hands. “Things aren’t that straightforward around here.”
Lyle must have known about the grow-op too. Had he threatened the women?
Mara left the table, and I spotted Foster as I scanned the room again for Tracy. He came over and slid into the seat Mara had vacated.
“Heard from Ms. Collins?” he asked me as he took off his parka.
I shook my head.
“She must have friends around here.”
Foster didn’t seem to know about Al and Ruby. Bouchard was probably trying to steer him clear of them.
He surveyed the dance floor and turned back to me. “Might as well stay here a while. You never know, Ms. Collins might drop in.”
The band launched into a boisterous version of “Proud Mary.” Foster grimaced. “Wish they’d turn down the sound.”
Black Water Page 13
