Turning Secrets

by Brenda Chapman

  “How long are we keeping Hugo?” asked Shelley before she slurped milk from her spoon.

  “Nadia will be here by eight to pick him up,” said Teagan. “Lucky I kept your old high chair.” She buckled Hugo in and he settled down after she poured a handful of Cheerios onto the tray. She plugged in the kettle for a cup of instant coffee and poured a bottle of formula for Hugo. She’d forgotten how much work babies were and she thanked her lucky stars that Aiden and Shelley were past the toddler stage. At least Clyde had been around for the first few years of their lives. She didn’t envy Nadia having to raise a child alone. Her life was only going to get tougher.

  Aiden and Shelley took an extra long time getting dressed for school. One of Aiden’s rainboots was missing and he remembered only at the last minute that he’d been playing with it in his bedroom. Teagan hurried him into his raincoat after he’d pulled on his boots, and they raced down the hallway to the stairs. She carried Hugo on her hip down to the lobby to watch them get onto the school bus. The driver was idling in front of the building; Shelley breathed a sigh of relief. Another minute and they’d have missed the bus altogether. Then she’d have had to find a jacket for Hugo so they could walk the kids to school in the pouring rain. Not how she wanted to spend her morning off.

  She climbed the stairs to the third floor, Hugo a dead weight in her arms, and knocked on Nadia’s door. When there was no answer, she leaned her ear against the wood and listened for sounds from within. A radio was blasting. She wondered if Nadia was in the shower.

  “We’ll give your mama half an hour, shall we?” she said to Hugo, opening the door to the stairwell to descend to her second-floor apartment.

  The building was cleaner than it had been thanks to Jeff taking over from the previous management company. The greasy cooking smells still lingered in the air and the hallways needed a fresh coat of paint, but this place would never qualify as luxury digs, no matter how much they tarted it up. She saw Jeff around a couple of times a week and he’d once even asked her if she needed anything fixed. Nobody knew much about him except that he’d been living in the States and had returned to Canada just before Christmas. His brother Murray owned the apartment building and had given him the job. Jeff was a big, quiet guy with a nice smile. He moved around the building without being noticed for the most part. Short blond hair. Glasses. Hunched shoulders. She placed him in his late twenties at the most. Early on she’d thought he might be a good match for Nadia, but as she’d gotten to know both of them, she realized that was a crazy idea. Nadia would never go for a guy with so few prospects even though she wasn’t high up the social ladder herself. Teagan could tell Nadia had ambition. She’d said she wasn’t planning on staying in Bellevue Towers much longer — but everyone in the building had sworn that at one time or another.

  Back in her apartment, she set up Hugo on a blanket with some blocks and a plastic bath book left over from her kids’ baby years and phoned the number Nadia had given her. It was the first time she’d ever called Nadia’s cell, never having had a reason to before. She wasn’t surprised when it went straight to voice mail. She left a message asking Nadia to check in and let her know when she planned to get Hugo, then tossed her phone on the counter and began cleaning up the morning mess.

  Teagan waited until after lunch, when Hugo was fast asleep in the cot, before climbing the stairs to knock again on Nadia’s door. The kids would be home in a few hours and she was eager to have some time to herself before she had to go downstairs and wait to meet their bus. Hugo was sleeping but she was still on duty and couldn’t leave for a walk to buy sausages and apples for supper. She’d promised Aiden his favourite meal as a reward for making his bed all week.

  She knocked lightly at first. Waited. Knocked again. Called out Nadia’s name. She leaned an ear against the door and heard music. This is really beyond the pale, she thought. It’s not as if I even know you well. Was Nadia holed up in there with some guy she’d met in a bar the night before? Teagan was willing to cut her some slack but that would be too much. She’d refuse to take Hugo next time.

  She turned as the door to the stairwell opened. The front of a stepladder appeared first, followed by Jeff in his grey work shirt and matching pants. A honking big circle of keys hung from his belt and jangled as he moved.

  “You’re on the wrong floor,” he said. “Is there a problem?”

  “No, I don’t think so.” She pointed at the ladder. “Fixing something?”

  “Light’s burned out at the end of the hall.” He started to walk past her.

  Teagan thought about her few remaining hours of freedom before the kids came home and a swell of desperation rose in her chest. She held out a hand to stop him. “The thing is, I’ve been looking after Nadia’s baby and she’s supposed to have picked him up this morning. I’m not sure if she’s in her apartment but I hear music.”

  “Have you tried knocking?”

  What, do I look stupid? “Yeah, a few times. I also left a voice mail on her phone but she hasn’t answered.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “You have a key to all the apartments … maybe you could open her door so I can do a quick check that she’s okay?”

  Jeff frowned and his mouth set in a stubborn line. “I’m not allowed to go into anyone’s apartment without prior notice. Those are the rules.”

  “I wouldn’t ordinarily ask but she missed picking up her son. It’s not like her.” Actually, Teagan had no idea what Nadia was or was not like. They’d been alone together in the elevator once and Teagan had invited Nadia for coffee but the offer hadn’t been taken up. The request to look after Hugo for the night had come out of the blue. The creeping suspicion that Nadia was taking advantage of her made Teagan add, “And I’d be able to grab some diapers for Hugo and some baby food because he’s running out. I hadn’t expected to have him this long.” And it wasn’t up to her to go buy the stuff.

  Jeff set the ladder on the floor against the wall. “Let me knock. Maybe you weren’t loud enough.”

  He pounded on the door. Waited. Pounded again. “She’s not answering,” he said, turning. He started back toward his ladder.

  Not the brightest bulb, are you? Teagan thought, realization dawning. She had to take control. “Nadia could be hurt or unable to come to the door. We need to get inside and make sure she’s not in distress. If we go in together, we’re insurance for each other that neither one of us has done anything wrong. I’ll also tell people that concern for her well-being was the only reason I convinced you to open her door.”

  Her words had come out in a flood and Jeff appeared to be working through what she’d said. “My brother Murray will be angry if I go into anyone’s apartment without prior notice. He made me promise.”

  “I’ll take any blame squarely on my shoulders. Besides, your brother won’t even know.”

  “I could call him.”

  “Or you could make this decision now, yourself. You are the building super, aren’t you? From what I hear, everyone thinks you’re doing a terrific job.”

  She almost felt guilty at the flash of delight that filled his eyes at her praise. He tilted his head as if giving the matter deep thought, his mouth open. “Well … okay. But just this once. And we leave right away if she’s there.”

  “Deal.”

  “And we don’t touch anything except diapers and baby food.”

  “Agreed.”

  He took what felt like forever to find the right key and rattle it in the lock. When the door finally sprang open Teagan almost pushed him down to get inside. She looked around the barely furnished living room. Baby toys scattered across the floor. Small TV on a stand. Blue couch that had seen better days. The galley kitchen sink was filled with dirty dishes and the garbage can in the corner was overflowing, its smell making Teagan wrinkle her nose in distaste. She moved quickly into the bedroom, the location of the blaring radio that now played Rihanna’s latest hit. The double bed was unmade and a crib was wedged between it a
nd the wall. A bag spilled out diapers onto the floor next to an antique dresser whose top was covered in a plastic change mat.

  Teagan crossed to the bed and lifted the blankets, checking to make certain Nadia wasn’t buried under the messy heap. She turned off the radio and spun around to see Jeff standing in the doorway looking over the room.

  “She’s not here,” he said. “She should take her garbage out. She could get bugs.”

  “I agree. I’ll take this bag of diapers and see if she has some jars of baby food. Then we can leave.”

  Jeff carefully locked the door once they were back in the hall. “She won’t be mad that I let you in?” he asked, his earlier confidence gone.

  “No, of course not,” said Teagan. “We did the right thing.”

  Jeff picked up the ladder and continued down the hall without saying anything more. Teagan jostled the diaper bag and jars of food in her hands on her way to the stairwell. It looked like she was stuck with Hugo for the afternoon.

  What are you playing at, Nadia? she thought. Just where the hell are you?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Tanya Morrison handed Kala the press bulletin requesting the public’s help in identifying the dead girl. “Could you have a look before I send this to Rouleau?” she asked.

  Kala looked up and smiled. “Sure. Pull up a chair.” She read through the paragraph and crossed out a couple of words but otherwise didn’t make any suggestions. “You’ve got the tone right and all the important details. Good to go.”

  “Thanks.” Morrison remained seated.

  “Is there something else?” Kala asked.

  Morrison bit her bottom lip and took a few seconds to think before saying, “Do you want to take a break and get a coffee?”

  “I’ve got to place a few calls …” Kala looked at Morrison’s worried face. “Ten minutes?”

  “Perfect. I’ll meet you at the café.”

  “Sounds good.”

  After Kala checked to see if anyone fitting the dead girl’s description had been reported missing that morning, she sent a note to the team letting them know the girl’s ID was still a mystery. She made one of her return phone calls and was a bit late meeting Morrison. Kala bought a coffee and joined Morrison at the end of a long table on the far side of the room.

  “Are you avoiding the riff-raff?” she asked, sliding in across from her. “This is about as far away from the regulars as you can get.”

  Morrison laughed. “I didn’t want us to be overheard.”

  “I’d say you’ve succeeded in that.” Kala took a sip of coffee, set the mug on the table, folded her arms across her chest, and waited.

  “The thing is, I saw something I wasn’t meant to see and now I don’t know quite what I should do about it.” Morrison twisted a ring on her finger back and forth.

  Kala inwardly groaned. She hated being anyone’s confidante if it meant helping them decide between two paths forward. Her experience was that no matter what opinion she gave, the person inevitably blamed her for whatever mess they got themselves into. “Are you sure this is something that you need to share with me?” she asked.

  “No, but I need advice and you’re the most discreet and sensible person I know.”

  “Not always.” Kala sighed and picked up the coffee cup. “So what is it?”

  “Rouleau is dating that journalist.”

  “Marci Stokes. What of it?”

  “No, I don’t care about him dating her, except I’m not sure about her motives.”

  Kala tried to read between the lines but couldn’t. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Morrison did a visual survey of the room before looking back at Kala. “I saw her meeting with our very own officer Woodhouse. I was at the Delta because a girlfriend was in town on business, staying there overnight. When I was walking through the lobby on my way to the elevator, I spotted them together.”

  “It might have been innocent. They could have met up accidentally.”

  “Maybe.”

  “But you don’t believe that.”

  “No. They had their heads together and he passed her a piece of paper. I’d stopped behind a pillar to watch them. She put the paper into her purse and he then picked up his beer and sauntered over to the bar as casual as can be, without looking back. I got on the elevator and went up to get my friend. When we came down five minutes later, they were both gone.”

  Woodhouse and Marci Stokes? Could Woodhouse be feeding her information about cases? There’d been rumours of a leak but she hadn’t seriously considered the informant might be on their small team. She didn’t want to entertain the idea that Marci was using Rouleau to further her career — yet knew she couldn’t rule it out. Marci was likeable enough but Kala didn’t know much about her, except that she was a career journalist known for doing whatever it took to get a story. Shit. For the first time since she’d known him, Rouleau was happy, and now she had to question whether his relationship with Marci was built on lies.

  “Leave this with me,” Kala said, attempting to sound unconcerned. “I’ll try to uncover whether Woodhouse is up to something before we raise this with Rouleau.”

  Morrison’s face relaxed. “Thanks, Kala. I’ve been struggling with whether to bury this or warn Rouleau.”

  “Let’s hope it never comes to that.”

  Kala’s cellphone vibrated in her pocket. She pulled it out and looked at the screen. “Gundersund is looking for me. I’ve got to meet him in ten minutes for the autopsy.”

  Morrison pushed back her chair. “And I’ve got to get upstairs and issue that media release when Rouleau gives the go-ahead.”

  Kala took the stairs to the basement and entered the lab. Gundersund was already inside and he tilted his head by way of greeting as she took a spot next to him. She nodded hello to the new young coroner, Trevor Cavanaugh, who was making an examination of the girl’s corpse. Kala glanced over at his assistant dressed in green scrubs and was surprised to see Fiona Gundersund organizing the tools.

  “Fiona’s here another day and offered to help with the autopsy. Trevor said he was happy for another set of eyes.” Gundersund spoke quietly to Kala as he ran a hand across his forehead. “I only just met him. He seems a competent enough bloke.”

  Kala studied Gundersund for a moment. “Have you got a headache?”

  “Woke up with it. The painkiller should kick in soon.”

  Fiona walked over to join them. “Nice to see you, Kala. As we told Paul already, based on the height of the girl’s fall, she was going approximately seventy kilometres an hour on impact. People have been known to walk away from seven-storey falls but usually they’ve landed on soft earth or something with some give. Not many survive hitting a concrete slab at that velocity.”

  “I’d imagine not.”

  “All set,” said Cavanaugh.

  Fiona smiled at Gundersund. “Then let’s get started.”

  Kala tried to detach herself from the cutting and the organ removal going on in front of her while listening to the running dialogue and the observations being recorded as Cavanaugh and Fiona worked. She was hyper aware of Gundersund standing next to her but she couldn’t read his mood. A couple of times, he reached up and massaged his temple.

  “I can take this alone if you want to go for a break,” she said about an hour in as they watched the saw grinding into the girl’s chest.

  “I’m okay.”

  “If you say so.”

  Two more uncomfortable hours passed before Cavanaugh removed the mask covering his mouth and nose. “I’ll tidy up here and we can meet in my office, say in ten minutes, if you want to grab some coffee from the pot. It was fresh a few hours ago.”

  Kala and Gundersund declined the coffee but took the opportunity to step into the hall to breathe some fresh air.

  “God, those never get easier,” said Gundersund. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.

  “Maybe you should go home and lie down. I can sit in on the debrief.” S
weat beaded on his forehead and there was bluish bruising underneath his eyes. Kala pulled up her sleeve to look at her watch. “It’s going on four o’clock and we missed lunch. Maybe you need to eat something.”

  “I’ll push through.”

  They stood waiting without talking until Fiona poked her head out the door and called them in. Gundersund trailed Kala into the office at the back of the lab. The space was cramped with a large desk, bookshelves, and filing cabinets and it smelled of formaldehyde and stale coffee. Kala motioned Gundersund to take the visitor chair while she wedged herself into a corner. Fiona positioned herself on the corner of the desk facing Gundersund and Trevor Cavanaugh took the chair. Fiona had taken off her lab coat and let her long blond hair loose from its bun. Her silk shirtdress rode up on her thighs when she crossed her legs.

  Kala kept her eyes averted from Fiona’s swinging legs and focused on Trevor’s face. He had friendly eyes in a narrow face capped with straight ginger-coloured hair. He cleared his throat. “Right. We put Jane Doe at twenty-two years of age, five foot seven — or one hundred and seventy point one eight centimetres tall — weighing fifty-two kilograms or one hundred and fifteen pounds. In good health, albeit slightly anemic. She landed face first, angled to the right, and broke her nose and jaw and the right cheekbone. Most of the facial skin was scraped off when she slid forward on impact across the rough concrete. Her internal organs were damaged, particularly the heart, spleen, and liver. Her ribs were shattered. Without the complete lab test results, cause of death can be attributed to severance of brachial arteries and internal hemorrhaging, including in the brain. In other words, a fall from a great height.” He paused. “We noticed bruising on her left biceps and wrist, and old scars on her back that were not caused by the fall. She’d also given birth less than a year ago. Caesarian, by the scar.”

  “Was there a wedding ring?” Kala asked.

  “No, and she wasn’t wearing any rings on her digits, although she had multiple earrings in both ears and a crystal stud above her lip on the right side.”