[Detective Allan Stanton 03.0] Sorrowful Road

by Alex MacLean

  Shrugging on my coat, I head outside to my rental car. I have two stops on my agenda. First, I want to pick up a set of trekking poles. Second, I want to have a good meal. I know of a Mediterranean restaurant that serves up some mean couscous crab cakes.

  Cranbrook isn’t very big. They call it a city, even though it’s no bigger than many towns I’ve been to over the years.

  The drive to the downtown core takes only a few minutes from the lodge. I stop at High Country Sports, a modest store that sits beside the desolate Armond Theatre. I’m not sure how long the theatre has been closed down, but the for-sale sign I saw during my last visit still graces the front window.

  I go into High Country. The clerk behind the counter is a teenage male with an emo haircut—long black hair highlighted with purple bangs. He wears a gray hoodie that has the words Life is dumb and I want to sleep printed on the front. As I walk past, he seems more interested in his cell phone than me.

  I find the trekking poles at the back of the store. The selection is adequate. I’m specifically looking for two-section aluminum poles. They’re stronger and can hold up to a little abuse. The carbon ones can’t take much of an impact. One good whack, and they’ll break or splinter. I found that out when I was at the Riding Mountain National Park a few years ago. Aluminum will just bend on you but can be straightened.

  I use poles on my hikes only once in a while. It depends on the terrain. My bum knee flares up if I trek up steep elevations for too long. And I know Kimberley Nature Park has some challenging spots.

  “The Black Diamonds are on sale,” the kid calls over. “Comes with three pairs of feet.”

  I look at the ones he points out. Carbon shafts with cork handles. Not what I’m looking for.

  “Have any aluminum poles?” I ask. “Two piece. Not three. Not the folding ones, either.”

  “The folders are the most popular.”

  “Not really what I’m after.”

  He puts down his phone, comes over. “There should be some Trail Pros left.”

  I watch him dig through the selection. Eventually he finds the brand at the back. He hands them to me.

  It’s an attractive set. Black aluminum shafts with foam grips and red straps. It’ll be a shame if I have to throw them away.

  “Are these on sale?” I ask.

  He nods. “All the Black Diamonds are. Twenty percent off.”

  “Perfect. I’ll take ’em.”

  “Right on, man.”

  He rings in the cost at the till. I pay him with cash.

  “Would you like to join our customer rewards program?” the kid asks. “You can get up to twelve percent back in store credit.”

  “How do I do that? Fill out a form or something?”

  “Just leave your name and phone number. Or email, if that’s preferable.”

  I don’t even give that a moment’s consideration. I always like to keep a low profile, not leave a trail behind for the wrong people to pick up on. That’s why I pay cash whenever possible.

  I politely decline his offer. He hands me back my change.

  “Have a good day,” he says.

  “You too.”

  I walk outside to my car and place the poles on the backseat. I feel those couscous crab cakes beckoning me from across town.

  Tomorrow, I’ll have a full day of consulting with Flatbow Lumber. I plan to get up early and jog the trails through the bird sanctuary.

  On Saturday I’ll drive north up to Kimberley Nature Park. The forecast looks promising: sunny, with the temps rising to twelve degrees by noon. Perfect hiking weather. Not too hot. Not too cold.

  Maybe it’ll get people out. Maybe I’ll get lucky this time.

  Third time’s the charm, right?

  That’s the eternal optimist in me speaking. I always look on the bright side of things.

  19

  Halifax, October 21

  6:00 p.m.

  The Urban Grill was near capacity.

  With a sweeping glance, Allan regarded the people there. “Good thing you called in when you did.”

  Melissa voiced her wonder. “I know, right. But it is a Thursday.”

  The restaurant was open and bright. Accents of creams and yellows contrasted well against the stacked-stone walls. Sputnik chandeliers hung over each table. They resembled stellar explosions—light bulbs shooting out at all different angles.

  Their waitress, an amiable blonde, introduced herself as Amy. She took their coats and then led them to a round table by the windows.

  “Nice chairs,” Melissa said. “They’re just like the ones Eames made in the fifties.”

  Amy said, “I’ve had a few people say that. Shell chairs, I think they called them.”

  Melissa nodded. “My grandparents had a pair.”

  “Cool.” Amy placed menus on the table. “What can I get y’all to drink?”

  Allan sat down, opened the menu. “Coffee for me, thanks.”

  Melissa said, “I’ll have a glass of chardonnay.”

  Amy turned to Brian. “And you, hon? What’ll you have?”

  “Um...do you have chocolate milk?”

  “We do. You want that?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Be right back,” Amy said.

  “Mmm...lobster poutine.” Allan looked over at Brian and wiggled his eyebrows at him.

  Brian laughed. “What’s that?”

  “Says here it’s lobster and chives chopped up in hollandaise sauce and halloumi cheese.”

  “Sounds delicious,” Melissa said.

  “Is that what you’re getting, Dad?”

  “Nah, I might just get a burger.”

  “Me too. Can I have fries with it?”

  Allan said, “You can get whatever you want, son.”

  Amy returned with their drinks. “Are you ready to order?”

  “I’ll have the calamari,” Melissa said. “Beet salad for the side.”

  Allan stirred cream into his coffee, removed the spoon. “What’s your burger of the day?”

  “It’s a Greek burger. Feta cheese. Black olives. Really good.”

  Allan considered Brian. “I don’t think the little man will like it. He and I will get the Kobe burger. Fries with his. Asparagus with mine.”

  Amy flashed them a big grin. “Great. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

  Allan asked Melissa, “Excited, sweetheart?”

  She swirled her wine, looked over the rim of the glass at him. “You bet. It’ll be nice to start working again.”

  “We’ll have to make babysitting arrangements,” he said.

  “I’ll still be able to take him to school in the mornings. I’ll see if my parents can come over in the afternoons again. Stay with him until I get home.”

  Brian took a gulp of chocolate milk, held his glass above the tabletop with both hands.

  “Mom,” he said, “when are you going to work?”

  “Monday. Nanny and Pop-Pop might come over to babysit. Would you like that?”

  “Yeah. They’re cool.”

  Allan sipped his coffee, smiling at Brian’s use of the word “cool.” He first noticed him saying it when he went to Toronto for a visit. Since moving back home, Brian seemed to say it more often.

  When Brian was four, he’d run around the house and shout honky wonky then erupt into giggles. He’d thought they were the funniest words in the world.

  It was weird how you forgot quirky things your children used to say. Nonsensical words or phrases they made up out of nowhere.

  “Did you catch any bad guys today, Dad?”

  “Not today, son.”

  “How come?”

  “Some are harder to catch than others.”

  “Wait till I get older.”

  “And we become partners.” Allan gave Melissa a wink. “We’ll catch them all.”

  The smile that spread across Brian’s face was his mother’s—wide and warm like a big hug.

  He said, “They won’t have a chance.”


  Melissa looked across the table at Allan. “What do you think of that?”

  “I think we’ll make a great team. Right, little man?”

  “Right, Dad. That’ll be cool.”

  Allan smirked, took another sip of coffee. He cast a glance over Melissa’s shoulder to the busy traffic outside. As Melissa talked to Brian about his day at school, Allan found himself drawn to the Impark lot straight across the street. He could see Brad Hawkins there, facedown on the pavement, a pool of blood spread out beneath his mouth.

  There they came again—faces, images—burrowing into his brain, unbidden and unwelcome.

  Allan felt every muscle in his body tense up, his pulse begin to quicken. When he tried to focus on Melissa and Brian, he realized the edges of his vision were getting blurry.

  He squeezed his eyes shut, opened them again. Propping his elbows on the table, he bounced a curled knuckle against his mouth.

  “Sweetheart,” he said.

  Melissa turned to him.

  “Want to switch places?” he asked.

  “Why? Don’t you like where you’re sitting?”

  “No, no. I just thought you’d like the view of the waterfront. I’d prefer to face the restaurant.”

  Melissa gave him a blank expression. “Uh, yeah. Sure. If you want.”

  When Allan stood up, his legs were like jelly. He raised a hand to catch Amy’s eye from the other side of the restaurant. She came over.

  “Your meals are almost ready,” she said. “Sorry for the wait.”

  “Not that,” Allan said. “Can I get a rum, please? Make it a double shot.”

  20

  Halifax, October 22

  8:45 a.m.

  “Thanks for coming in,” Audra said. “Have a seat.”

  Dustin Marks sat at the table. He was the kind of man who belonged on the cover of a romance novel. You just had to cut off Fabio’s blond locks and brush it into a quiff hairstyle.

  Audra shut the door to the interview room. “I have a few questions for you.”

  “About that guy,” Dustin said.

  “What guy is that?”

  “The one Liam saw at the park.”

  Audra tilted her head. “Oh, you were talking to Liam?”

  “He called yesterday. Left a message.”

  “What’d he say?”

  “Said he was in to see you. He thinks he saw the guy who killed that girl. I don’t know why he gave you my name.”

  “Did he describe this guy to you?”

  Dustin shook his head. “That’s all he said. I didn’t call him back. I played your message right after his.”

  Audra sat down and slid her chair in close to the table.

  “You were at the park on Sunday,” she said. “Correct?”

  Dustin undid two buttons on his pea coat. “I was.”

  “What time?”

  “It was early. Before seven.”

  “How often do you go there?”

  “Three, four days a week.”

  “Do you go for a jog? A walk?”

  “I walk my dog there.”

  “Oh yeah? What breed?”

  “Great Dane.”

  “Big dog.”

  Dustin’s eyes sparkled. “He’s a horse.”

  “How old?”

  “Four.”

  “Still a pup, really. What’s his name?”

  “Apollo.”

  “Ah, cool name,” Audra said, smiling. “Do you ever go to the park by yourself?”

  “No.”

  “Did you see Liam there Sunday?”

  “I ran into him before I left.”

  “What time was that?”

  “Around eight.” He shrugged. “Ten to. Five to.”

  “In what area of the park did you run into him?”

  “The Tower Road parking lot. Liam was just leaving.”

  “Did you guys talk?”

  “For a few minutes.”

  Audra considered that. “You’ve known each other for a while?”

  “Six years.”

  “From the park? Or did you know him from elsewhere?”

  Dustin licked his lips, blinked. Audra watched a flush creep across his face.

  He said, “I...um...originally met him at Menz.”

  Audra paused. She knew of the place. It was a popular nightclub among the gay and lesbian community.

  “I gotcha,” she said.

  She opened a folder and slid a copy of the composite sketch over to him.

  “Does he look familiar?”

  Dustin leaned in to the table, eyes narrowing on the sketch.

  “Is this the guy Liam was talking about?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And he had the hood over his head?”

  “Yes.”

  Dustin’s eyes lingered on the face a few moments more, then he sat back.

  “No, no,” he said. “I don’t know him. But I’m not good with faces.”

  “Were many people at the park on Sunday?”

  Dustin shook his head again. “Hardly is at that time of day.”

  “Think hard. How many do you remember seeing?”

  Dustin stared up at the ceiling. “Well, there was the old couple by the container terminal.”

  “Do you know their names?”

  “No.”

  “Who else?”

  Dustin frowned, let out an exaggerated groan. “Another couple by the Naval Memorial. They were walking a small dog. A Border Terrier, I think.”

  “Do you know them?”

  “No.”

  “Who else?”

  Dustin threw his hands up in the air. “I caught glimpses of people on the other trails. But I paid no attention to them.”

  “Steve Foster?”

  Dustin’s eyes widened. “Steve was there?”

  Audra nodded.

  “Okay, I didn’t see him,” he said. “It’s a big park, you know.”

  Audra remembered Steve Foster telling her that he hadn’t seen Dustin, either.

  She asked, “You’re sure you never saw a guy in a hoodie?”

  Dustin shrugged. “Sorry.”

  Audra rolled her shoulders. She could feel tension settling in there, rising into her neck.

  “I mean, I see people wearing hoodies there all the time,” Dustin said. “Just not then.”

  “Did you know Kate Saint-Pierre?”

  “I saw her at the park before.”

  “Sunday?”

  “I couldn’t even tell you the last time I saw her. I didn’t know her name until I read it in the paper. I recognized her picture. Said to myself, ‘Yeah, I saw her there before.’”

  Audra took out her card and gave it to him.

  “Just in case you remember anything else,” she said. “Or if you see this guy on your walks. Thanks again for coming in.”

  After he left the room, Audra leaned her head back over the chair and shut her eyes. Frustration gnawed at her mind.

  She took out her cell phone and called Allan.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Hey,” she said. “How’re things there?”

  On the other end of the line, she could hear the rush of wind against the receiver.

  “No one knows who this guy is,” Allan said. “What’s the word on Marks?”

  “He never saw him.”

  Allan breathed into the phone. “Figures. So far, Mr. Clattenburg is the only one who did.”

  “Looks that way.”

  “You sound discouraged.”

  “Hard not to be,” Audra said. “Seems like we’re chasing our tails.”

  “Someone else here might know him. Or saw him before.”

  Audra hesitated. “Don’t know. You might be right about the composite, Al.”

  “Oh?”

  “Maybe it doesn’t look like anybody.”

  “That’s just it. We don’t know.”

  “Where in the park are you?”

  “The Quarry Pond. You coming over?”

&n
bsp; “Yeah,” she said. “I’ll give you a hand.”

  “I’ll meet you in the parking lot.”

  She hung up. When she left the room, she heard someone call out to her. Turning, she saw Captain Thorne coming down the hall.

  “Morning, Detective,” he said. “Where’s Al?”

  “Working Point Pleasant Park.”

  “I put two officers over there on stakeout.”

  “Good.”

  Thorne leaned a shoulder against the wall. “I’ve been wanting to ask you. How’s Al doing?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Emotionally. Professionally. Does he seem all right?”

  Holding his eyes, Audra chewed on the inside of her lip. “You want me to talk behind Al’s back?”

  “I know he’s your friend. He’s mine too.”

  “Are you asking me as his friend? Or as his captain?”

  “Friend, of course.”

  Audra smiled.

  Thorne waited for her a moment, then he matched her smile. “Your silence speaks volumes.”

  Audra shrugged. “Not sure about that.”

  “I can tell you’re not telling me something.”

  “Maybe you’re getting paranoid in your old age.”

  Thorne snickered. “Okay. You win. Good luck today.”

  Audra watched him walk away, and her smile fell away. No, she thought, Allan didn’t seem all right.

  He seemed distant at times. He shied away from painful situations. On Tuesday morning, they’d interviewed Abigail Brown, Kate Saint-Pierre’s best friend. She took the news of Kate’s death hard. When she broke into uncontrollable sobs, Allan excused himself from the room. After the interview, Audra found him outside, sitting on the porch steps.

  He’d asked her if she would mind interviewing Kate Saint-Pierre’s family without him. He gave her the excuse of wanting to pull old case files of unsolved murders throughout the Maritimes.

  No, Allan didn’t seem all right.

  And that worried Audra.

  21

  Kimberley, October 23

  10:50 a.m.

  I hear him well before I see him.

  He makes a lot of noise breaking through the brush. The racket of rustling leaves and snapping twigs cuts the tranquility like a skinning knife. Every few seconds, he stops and lets out a throaty grunt. Then he continues on, heralding his approach toward me.