Turning Secrets

by Brenda Chapman

  “Seems like a nice spot,” Kala said.

  “Yeah, I like it. Food’s decent too.”

  A server dressed in black with a bouncy ponytail took their order. Faz asked for a low-alcohol beer while Kala and Tanya went with coffee.

  Kala could see that he was still extremely upset. She softened her voice. “I know it will take a lot longer than a few minutes to come to terms with Nadia’s death, but are you up to sharing with us what you know about her?”

  “Yeah, why not. I met Nadia after she’d left home. I guess she was nearly sixteen.”

  “You weren’t living at home either?”

  “No.”

  He made a face but didn’t elaborate, and Kala thought that now wasn’t the time to push him on it. She asked, “What was Nadia like when you met her?”

  “She was this hurt kid filled with anger when I met her at the shelter. She’d only recently found out that she was adopted and she felt betrayed.”

  “She’d had no idea?”

  “No, and it came as a shock. They took her in when she was four and she didn’t remember anything before then. Blocked it, I guess. She didn’t take the news well but said it explained a lot. Like why she always felt like the odd person out and why her sister always came off as the favourite. I’d say the anger never went away the entire five years I knew her. Her father came down here to try to get her back home almost every week in the beginning. I don’t think her mother knew. I almost felt bad for the guy. Nadia was stubborn and unreasonable but that was because she was so hurt and angry. She was a lot like her old man even if they didn’t have a biological connection.”

  “Where did the two of you live? How did you get by?”

  “We crashed different places. The shelters sometimes. I had friends with a bachelor apartment not far from here and we’d land there a few nights a week. I also had a friend who dealt and he’d pay me to deliver to clients. We’d panhandle when we really needed money.” Faz shrugged. “Life was simple.”

  “Were you both using?”

  “We smoked a lot of pot. Snorted coke when we had money. Drank beer. Not much else because we couldn’t afford it, usually. Nadia always said she didn’t want to get hooked on anything heavy because she planned to get out of the street life and live somewhere decent.”

  “She got pregnant. Was that in her plans?”

  “I don’t know. We’d stopped spending much time together by then. She’d met somebody.”

  Kala tried to keep the urgency from her voice. “Do you know his name?”

  Faz shook his head. “She wouldn’t tell me but I know he was older and had money.”

  A common story. Kala never identified with girls who tried to use men to get to easy street, although she didn’t judge. “Was he the father of her baby?”

  “I guess. She’d stopped seeing other guys … including me.”

  “Was she hooking, Faz?”

  He evaded her eyes and took his time answering. “Sometimes we needed money. She said it wasn’t who she was. She dreamed big.” His laugh came out a choking sound. “Look where that got her.”

  “What did Nadia think of her sister, Lorraine, and Lorraine’s husband, Peter?”

  “She thought her sister was a goody two-shoes and didn’t have much use for her. I don’t know about this Peter guy. She never mentioned him.”

  Kala looked over at Morrison. “Any questions to add?”

  Morrison stopped writing in her notebook. “What kind of friend was Nadia?”

  Faz’s eyes welled up again. “Loyal. Complicated. Beautiful. I would have done anything for her, but I wasn’t enough. She’s the reason I cleaned myself up and got this job. I was hoping to win her back.” He looked down at his hand gripping the beer glass and sat motionless for several heartbeats before draining the last of his drink.

  Bennett had a feeling he’d better not be late so he told Woodhouse he had a doctor’s appointment and hightailed it over to Bellevue Towers at quarter to four. He arrived with two minutes to spare and Mrs. Greenboro buzzed him in. Her apartment door swung open as the elevator let him out on the third floor.

  She was as tiny as he remembered, but the rest of her was startlingly different. Her flowered silk dress, likely kept in her wardrobe since the fifties, hung in loose folds on her tiny frame and gathered lower than it should under the bodice. She’d dyed her hair an off-orange colour since his last visit and matched its garish hue with bright-blue eyeshadow, rouge, and a pumpkiny shade of lipstick that bled into the creases around her mouth.

  Finding her efforts more endearing than she’d appreciate, Bennett bowed slightly at the waist. “You’re looking lovely this evening,” he said.

  “I don’t usually have company for martini hour.” Her voice was harsh but her eyes twinkled, and Bennett was reminded of his grandmother, now in an old-age home. “Come in before the ice melts and dilutes the gin,” she commanded and led the way on arthritic legs down the short hallway into a living room that smelled of Glade air freshener and furniture polish. Nat King Cole was singing from the record player under an open window with a view into the parking lot behind the building. Her chair and footstool were arranged so that she could look outside, and he wondered how many hours she’d spent watching the world go by from her lonely perch in the sky, listening to music from a bygone era.

  She pointed to the couch. He sat at one end while she poured glasses of iced gin through a strainer into tall glasses. She already had olives skewered on toothpicks and she dropped them into the drinks. He rose and took the glasses from her as she settled onto the other end of the couch. Then she took hers back and raised it in a toast.

  “To the bountiful God who was thoughtful enough to give us forty proof,” she said, clinking her glass against his and taking a sip. She set her glass on the table and lifted up the plate with cheese slices cut into circles and placed on Ritz crackers that she’d also prepared ahead of his visit. He accepted two, thankful to have something to eat once he tasted the straight gin. He’d have to take it slow or he wouldn’t be able to drive home. He understood that Mrs. Greenboro would not be sharing what she knew about Nadia Armstrong until she was good and ready. By the time he was halfway through the first martini, he realized that he didn’t care how long she took to get to the point.

  “I was a postwar mail-order bride,” she said. “Came here from England and met my husband for the first time. He needed a wife and I wanted a family. Went from the boat to City Hall and tied the knot. We were married forty-six years before he died of a heart attack.”

  “You must miss him.”

  “I miss the routine of looking after him. Cooking meals, cleaning the house, growing my garden. I stayed home and raised our two sons, which is something women did in those days. Not like the new generation.”

  “Where are your sons now?”

  “Gordon is living in Australia with his partner John. Alvin lives in Vancouver with his wife and four kids. I’ve stopped flying now that I’m eighty-eight. The seats are too uncomfortable. Alvin comes to visit twice a year.” She reached over and took his empty glass. “I see a top-up is in order.”

  He knew he should refuse, but she was eighty-eight and alone, and the long hours and the alcohol were making him sink deeper into the couch. He accepted the full glass and scarfed down more soggy cheese and crackers while she returned to reminiscing. At a break in her monologue, he asked, “Is this a quiet building?”

  Her eyes swung over to pin him into stillness. He was certain she knew he was leading her back to spilling what she knew and hoped he hadn’t pushed too early. He took another sip of his drink and smiled to let her know that he was enjoying the martini. Her button eyes appeared to relent.

  “Let me put on another record and we can get down to business.” She rose slowly from the couch and set a fresh disc on the player. “Are you a Perry Como fan?” she asked as a swirl of violins filled the room.

  “I like this music,” he said, unsure of who she was speaking abou
t but knowing the singer was likely long gone. He felt as if they were on a movie set and he should be putting on tap shoes and dancing her across the stage.

  “I met him once, you know,” she said, settling back into her seat. “I saved up my household money and took a plane to Vegas with two girlfriends. Nineteen-sixty-one. I was a looker then. Betty Grable had nothing on me. Perry Como was performing at the Sands and the girls and I got gussied up and nabbed a table near the stage. Como caught my eye and had me up on stage to sing ‘Catch a Falling Star.’ Not to be immodest, but we brought down the house.”

  “I wish I’d been there,” Bennett said, surprised that he meant it. Mrs. Greenboro’s acerbic charm was getting to him.

  She took a sip and put down the glass. “I normally stop at one, but tonight is a special occasion. How long have you been working with that boor of a partner?”

  “Almost two years.”

  “Two years too long. Surely, you could ask to be with someone who appreciates you. Is your superior officer that good-looking sergeant John Rouleau that I see on the news?”

  “His name is Jacques Rouleau and yes, he’s my staff sergeant.”

  “Well, I could put in a word.”

  “No, Mrs. Greenboro. I’d rather you didn’t.”

  She squinted at him and frowned. “You remind me of my late husband. Always putting up a brave front while he swallowed other people’s abuse. Mark my words, young man. Not taking a stand against the venom will make you sick.” She picked up her glass. “The super’s brother used to visit Nadia two nights a week. Tuesdays and Thursdays. In and out in under an hour, if you get my drift.”

  “They were having sex?”

  “Well, I’m quite certain that he wasn’t fixing her leaky faucet twice a week for six months.”

  “Just to be clear, you’re talking about Murray Simmons and Nadia Armstrong?”

  “The very same.”

  Bennett looked at her chair by the window and back at her. “Did other … men visit Nadia in her apartment?”

  “None that I saw.” Mrs. Greenboro stood and refilled their glasses. “Girl was good with the baby. She took him to a sitter a few afternoons a week and they’d be home around suppertime. Sometimes she appeared to leave him overnight. I didn’t really keep track.”

  “How do you know the baby spent the time with a sitter?”

  “She told me once when we rode the elevator together. Sitter was close by and her name was Holly Tremaine. I remember because Nadia was going there for the first time and asked if I happened to know her. Nadia was nervous about leaving Hugo with a stranger.”

  “Did you know Holly Tremaine?”

  “No.”

  “Is there anything else you can tell me about Nadia or anyone else she associated with?”

  “No. That’s all I’ve got. The girl might have had a troubled life but she had backbone. Reminded me of myself.”

  Bennett pulled his notebook out of his pocket and jotted down the sitter’s name. Perry Como’s voice faded into silence and the record needle lifted and swung back into its holder. Mrs. Greenboro’s head sank back against the couch and her eyes started to close.

  Bennett left the last of his drink on the table and stood. A wave of vertigo passed after a few deep breaths. “I’ll let myself out. Thank you again for a lovely visit and for sharing this information.”

  “I expect the child deserves to know who killed his mother. He’ll want to know when he gets older. I’ll have a rest now. Take care, young man.” She looked up at him, her deep-set black eyes surrounded in blue shadow, and winked before they closed fully. She was snoring softly when Bennett closed her apartment door.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Dawn walked alone down the hall to her locker. She’d been avoiding Vanessa and had waited in the washroom after class ended for the day until she was certain Vanessa was gone. She had no intention of double dating but didn’t want to have to explain why to Vanessa. For now, staying away from her seemed better than a confrontation.

  Dawn shifted her books and pulled her phone out of her bag, stopping in front of her locker to check for messages. She’d been expecting Fisher to show up on the weekend but wasn’t surprised when he hadn’t. It would have been nice to get a text from him, though. She read one from Kala telling her that she was on her way back from Ottawa and would be home around seven o’clock if traffic co-operated. She scrolled down the list of messages in case she’d missed one. Still nothing from her father.

  She collected the books she’d need for an assignment due the next day and exited the school by the front door. The sun was still shining and the air had warmed since she’d gone for a walk at lunchtime. She took a deep, cleansing breath and started down the stairs. Emily and Chelsea were at volleyball practice but Vanessa had quit the team after Christmas. She said she’d rather spend time with her boyfriend. Leo. She’d finally shared his name with her and Chelsea, although nobody had met him yet. Emily said Vanessa obviously wanted to keep him all to herself. Dawn thought that maybe Vanessa was worried about Leo falling for Emily. Not outside the realm of possibility.

  Dawn was on the last step when she spotted Leo’s black car idling at the curb. Oh, no, she thought. How can you still be here? The urge to run the other way surged through her. Please don’t let them see me. Her foot hit the sidewalk at the same time as the front passenger door of the car swung open and Vanessa stepped out.

  “Hey, Dawn! Over here!” Vanessa was waving like a crazy person. There was no polite way to ignore her.

  Dawn walked slowly toward the car, stopping several feet from Vanessa. “Hey, Vanessa. I have to get home.”

  Vanessa leapt closer and grabbed her by the arm. “Leo can drive you. He wants to meet you.”

  Vanessa was smiling, but her eyes were saying something different. Dawn couldn’t figure out what it was about Vanessa that worried her but couldn’t shake the feeling. “That’s okay,” she said. “I have to go to the library first.”

  “We’ll drop you off. Get in the front and I’ll take the back. Too bad Shawn isn’t with us today to meet you.”

  She gave Dawn a little push toward the open door and got into the back seat. Leo was leaning across the passenger seat saying hello, a big grin on his face, his eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses. Dawn hesitated a moment more but she couldn’t think of any reason not to take them up on the ride. She glanced up and down the street one last time before climbing in the front seat and pulling the door shut behind her.

  Leo looked over at her as he slid the car into traffic. “Van’s told me all about you,” he said. “Good to finally meet.”

  “She wants to go to the library,” said Vanessa from behind Dawn’s left shoulder. She’d manoeuvred into the centre of the back seat so that she was between them. Dawn could see Vanessa in her peripheral vision when she turned her head.

  “Yes, the one downtown at Johnson and Bagot.”

  “You kidding me?” asked Leo. “You must be ready for some fun after school all day. Why don’t you drive around for a while with me and Van? We could stop for a drink or something.”

  “No, my aunt is picking me up at the library in half an hour.”

  “Text her and tell her you have a ride home.”

  He was still smiling, but his suggestions were beginning to sound more like commands, and Dawn was becoming even more uneasy. Leo was older than them, probably in his twenties. She felt out of her depth and wondered what he was doing dating Vanessa.

  “Her aunt’s a cop,” said Vanessa behind them.

  “She’s already on her way to meet me,” said Dawn. “Thanks, anyway.”

  “Another time then.”

  Leo drove with one hand resting casually on the wheel and the other trailing out the open window. He half turned his head and said to Vanessa, “Think we should set up a date with Shawn B. and Dawn? I have a feeling they’ll like each other.” His voice was playful, the demanding intonation gone.

  “Sure, if you want to.” Van
essa sounded distant, as if she wasn’t thinking about her answer.

  Dawn glanced back. Vanessa was looking out the side window with the same vacant look on her face that she’d had in math class. Dawn straightened and looked at Leo. “I’m not really looking for a boyfriend,” she said.

  “Shawn B.’s cool, isn’t that right, Vanessa?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He likes books so you have a lot in common.”

  “There’s the library,” said Dawn, pointing. Leo had stopped at a light and Dawn undid her seatbelt. “Thanks for the ride. I’ll get out here.” She opened the door and looked at Vanessa as she jumped onto the road. “See you in class tomorrow, Van.”

  Vanessa lifted a hand in a wave but made no move to get into the front seat. Dawn waited for the car to pull away before she crossed the street and entered the library. She stayed inside the door watching for a good ten minutes before she felt safe enough to go back outside to search for a bus stop.

  Vanessa got into the front seat when they were in line at the Tim Hortons drive-through. Leo was being especially nice today and hadn’t mentioned going to the motel at all. She was relieved that he wasn’t talking about meeting up with Shawn B., someone she’d just as soon forget existed.

  He ordered for her without asking. A small coffee with cream but no sugar. A toasted bagel with cream cheese and a large coke for himself. “You need to lose a few pounds,” he said when he saw her eying his bagel. “I’m teaching you self-restraint.”