“I gave my statement to the officer.”
“I know. We’re following up.”
“All right, but I don’t know anything about it.”
“When did you last see the kids?”
“The day before yesterday. Well, I suppose it was Ned and Nora, unless there are other children here. I was never introduced to them.”
“Where did you see them?”
“Walking the dog across the lawn.”
“Did you talk to them?”
Bostock squinted. “No. Why would I?”
“Well, they’re kids. You’re a teacher.”
“I teach cabinetmaking to high school shop students and adults at night school. Besides, they were halfway across the lawn.”
Brisbois glanced at his notes. “Mr. Bostock, you’ve been seen out on the lake in various disguises.”
“Is that illegal?”
“No, but in a criminal investigation anything unusual tends to get our antennae up.”
“I can see that.”
“Any reason why you’d go out on the lake in different getups?”
Bostock eyed him a moment, then shrugged. “I’m interested in architecture. There are some interesting places around the lake. I like to study them in detail, sometimes over a few days. People might get strange ideas if they see the same guy staring at their places day after day. So,” he finished, “I figure with the disguises they might not realize it was the same guy.”
Brisbois raised an eyebrow. “That’s all?”
“Yes.” Bostock blinked, then added, “Besides, it amuses me.”
·
“Maybe we should try dressing up,” Creighton remarked as they left the Pines. “We could stand to be amused.”
“Next,” Brisbois barked.
They stopped at the Elm Pavilion and knocked at the door. The sisters didn’t answer until the third knock. When he heard a chorus of “come ins,” he tried the door. It was unlocked.
The sisters were watching Rear Window. Kate pushed the pause button.
“Detective Brisbois.”
“Ladies.” He removed his hat. “Did you know your door was unlocked?”
“We unlocked it after Tiffany left,” said Emma.
“We don’t like our door locked,” said Kate.
“We could all die and no one would find us for hours,” Louise said.
Brisbois frowned. “I’d advise you to be especially careful right now. We have a criminal on the loose. Perhaps in the vicinity.”
“Please sit down, Detectives,” said Kate.
“Would you care for some coffee?” Louise asked. “And a piece of cake?”
“That would be nice.” Brisbois took the chair opposite the sofa. Creighton chose one by the window. Emma bustled into the kitchen.
“It’s Gregoire’s special red velvet cake,” she said, returning with a laden tray.
“Looks delicious.”
“Are you enjoying your stay?” Louise asked, as she cut slices for the detectives.
Brisbois smiled. “As always, Miss Benson.”
“The detectives aren’t enjoying their stay, Louise,” Emma corrected as she poured coffee. “They’re engaged in an investigation.”
Brisbois took a bite of cake and nodded his approval. He set the plate aside and took a sip of coffee. “That’s right. We’re investigating the disappearance of the twins.”
“We’ve already answered a lot of questions,” Kate said.
“When you were here before,” Louise added.
“Oh, Louise,” said Emma, “that wasn’t Detective Brisbois.” She turned to Brisbois and whispered, “Louise is always in a fog when she watches Jimmy Stewart.” To Louise she said, “That was Officer Semple who interviewed us before.”
“Officer Semple?” said Louise. “Did he break anything this time?”
“He tipped over a vase on the way out,” said Emma. “It wasn’t broken, however.”
“Officer Semple is a bit uncoordinated,” said Kate.
He’s a bit something, Brisbois thought. He settled back in his chair and turned a page in his notebook. “I promise not to keep you from your movie long. I just wanted to follow up on a few things.”
“Of course.” Emma drew up a chair and sat down emphatically. “Go ahead.”
“We have nothing to hide,” Louise declared. She looked hopefully at the set where Jimmy Stewart sat frozen in his wheelchair, mouth agape.
Brisbois smiled at the sisters. “They told me you took a special interest in the children, Ned and Nora.”
Kate nodded eagerly. “Oh, they’re great kids. They come here almost every day.”
“Do you remember when you last saw them?”
Louise looked at her sisters. “It was at lunch yesterday, wasn’t it?”
Emma made an impatient gesture with her hand. “No, it wasn’t yesterday, Louise. It was the day before.” She turned to Brisbois. “Lloyd took them into town yesterday, according to Tiffany.”
“For a boat ride,” said Kate.
“To get them out of Gregoire’s hair,” said Louise. “That’s what Tim said.”
“Young people don’t have much patience with children,” said Kate.
Brisbois cleared his throat. “So you got on fine with the children, but others didn’t.”
Emma got up, went over to a cut-glass decanter, and poured three glasses of sherry. “Detectives?”
Brisbois and Creighton shook their heads. “No thank you,” Brisbois answered. “On duty.”
Emma nodded, restoppered the sherry, and placed the tray with the glasses on the coffee table. “What you have to understand, Detective,” she said, handing the sherry to her sisters, “is that the Pleasant isn’t the ideal place for children. The adults are generally preoccupied.”
“Or grumpy,” Kate said.
“And unaccustomed to dealing with children,” Emma continued, “especially energetic, high-spirited children like Nora and Ned.”
Brisbois made a pretense of reviewing his notes. “Pardon me, ladies, but I have numerous reports saying the children were rude, inconsiderate, and mean-spirited.”
“Nonsense,” said Kate, sipping at her sherry. “They’re just full of beans. Like we were when we were kids.”
“Daddy was with the diplomatic corps,” said Louise.
“In some inhospitable places,” added Emma.
“We had to make our own fun,” Kate explained.
“Sometimes we got reported to Father,” Louise giggled.
“We were high-spirited,” said Kate.
“Remember what we did in Bulgaria?” said Louise.
“I think it was in Yugoslavia,” said Kate.
“I think it was both,” Louise countered.
Emma raised a warning hand. “The detective doesn’t have time for reminiscences.”
“Not at the moment.” Brisbois smiled. “But I’d like to follow up on that later.” He took a moment to organize his notes. “So the kids came to watch movies and television.”
“And to play those interactive games,” said Kate. “We especially enjoy the boxing.”
“But not the blue movies,” said Emma.
Emma shook her head. “Blue movies aren’t appropriate for children.”
“You have a few of those?”
“Oh, yes,” said Kate. “We have It Happened One Night, From Here to Eternity. Very suggestive.”
Brisbois thought the children could see racier things on Main Street but said nothing. “Did the children ever say anything about feeling uncomfortable with anyone around here? Did they suggest there was anything that made them feel unsafe or….?”
“Creepy?” Emma supplied.
“There’s no one around here who’s creepy or unsafe,” Louise said, while Kate
nodded agreement.
“Well, that’s good to know.” Brisbois turned a page and flattened his notebook. “Did the kids ever talk about running away?”
Kate laughed. “All children run away.”
“They didn’t talk about it,” said Emma.
“We never did,” said Louise. “Remember when we ended up in that back alley in Bombay and were almost bitten by a cobra?”
“Gives me the willies just thinking about it,” said Kate.
“I think it was some sort of duck,” said Emma.
Brisbois shook his head. “I’ll bet you gave your parents a few grey hairs.”
“No one here would hurt the children,” said Emma.
Brisbois glanced down at his notes. He was making a new entry when Kate said, “Say cheese, Detective.” He looked up to see a Polaroid camera aimed at him.
·
A few yards away from the Elm Pavilion, Brisbois sank down onto a bench. Creighton joined him.
“That was kind of like falling down a rabbit hole,” Creighton remarked.
Brisbois removed an envelope from his pocket. “Want to see my picture?” he asked, taking the Polaroid from the envelope.
Creighton looked at it and laughed. “Is that the original Polaroid film?”
Brisbois checked the back of the photo. “No, it’s a substitute. Fuji.” Brisbois returned the picture to his pocket. “What do you think about Bostock?”
“I think we should stop wasting our time on him.”
Brisbois nodded. “He’s not at the top of my list. He’s kind of a nut.” He lit a cigarette. “The kids’ scent ended at the dock but they were excellent swimmers so they probably didn’t fall in and drown. No word from the parents, by the way. I think Interpol has found members of Al-Qaeda faster than those parents.”
Creighton laughed. “That’s because Al-Qaeda’s not trying to outrun those kids.”
Chapter Fifteen
Gil spread the map on the ground. It was early evening. “This is where we are now.” He pointed to a spot on the map. “Tomorrow we’ll run into a current in the middle of the river, there. It’s only moderate but we’ll steer clear. There are some interesting rock formations. Some good fishing for anybody who’s interested.” He smiled at Norman.
“So you’ve really been up here before,” Turnbull grinned.
“I’ve been up here twice,” Gil responded.
“Just asking.” Turnbull shrugged and looked toward Peters, who was breaking up sticks for kindling. “What do you think, Peters? Ready for a little current?”
Peters didn’t answer. His gaze drifted to the river.
“I imagine we should expect rougher water from here on in,” said Simpson. “We’ve had a rather easy go so far.”
Turnbull sniffed.
“I’m rather glad for that,” said Simpson. “I think the real pleasure of canoeing is being able to take in the scenery.”
Margaret and Rudley were sitting together on a log. “The water’s been so calm, it’s almost like being at the Pleasant,” Margaret said.
“Yes,” Rudley murmured out of earshot, “and we have proxies for Tim and Gregoire arguing and for Simpson stepping in to salve everyone’s feelings.”
“Mr. Turnbull should be ashamed of himself, picking on Mr. Peters and Gil the way he does.”
“I understand they train law students to be like sharks in a wading pool,” Rudley said. “It seems the training spills over.”
“He enjoys picking on Gil and on Mr. Peters in particular.”
“That’s because they’re the weakest swimmers.”
“Why, Rudley, that was rather poetic.”
“I can be poetic at times, Margaret.”
She smiled. “I knew the trip would do you good. To get away from your burdens, to relax, be free of responsibilities.”
“I could become comatose in time.”
“I imagine your blood pressure has dropped twenty points. By the time we arrive home, we won’t have to open the door. You’ll be so mellow, we’ll just pour you under.”
“Margaret,” Rudley said, rising from the log, “I have an overwhelming urge to go to the bathroom.”
·
Tiffany was making her way along the shoulder of the highway, trying to look as dignified as possible in an evening dress and high heels. She told herself, holding her chin a little higher, that she shouldn’t have agreed to go out with young Mr. Noble — and what an inappropriate name that turned out to be! She had been blinded by his virtuoso performance on the viola at the chamber music performance at the public library the week before and was excited when he invited her to dinner. But on the way home it turned out he expected more than enlightened conversation. When she declined his advances, he promptly pulled the car over and left her at the side of the road. Now, hurrying along the highway, trying to convince herself she wasn’t the slightest bit uneasy about being alone on the highway at night, she heard a car approaching. The hairs on her neck stood up as the car slowed. She held her breath, trying to think of how to use a small bag decorated with seed pearls as a weapon. She almost cried with relief when the car pulled alongside and she recognized the insignia of the OPP and a friendly face.
“Officer Stubbs, how good to see you!”
“Can I give you a lift, Tiffany?”
Stubbs was tactful enough not to ask questions. He drove her home and hopped out to open the passenger’s door. Tiffany stepped from the car, pulling a lace stole more tightly around her shoulders.
“Thank you, Officer Stubbs. It was kind of you to drive me home.”
“My pleasure. “
He followed her up the steps to the veranda and waited while she unlocked the door. “Is everyone at the main inn now?”
“Tim and Gregoire are still in the bunkhouse. Lloyd is in the basement. I’m staying in the Rudleys’ quarters while they’re away. Mrs. Millotte is using one of the rooms upstairs. Mr. Bole and Mr. Bostock have elected to stay in their cabins. The sisters are in the Elm Pavilion.”
He tipped his hat. “I’ll wait until you’re safely in and have locked the door.”
“Once again, thank you. It was gallant of you to rescue me.”
He blushed. “My pleasure.”
She smiled. “Good night, Officer Stubbs.” She stepped inside, locked the door, and gave him a wave through the window.
He returned to the cruiser, gave his location to dispatch, and checked his log.
Stubbs was new to the area, assigned to it after successfully completing his probation in Walkerton. He had heard through the grapevine that this corner of Ontario was one of the most lovely and lively detachments in the province with much of the excitement, he had been led to believe, hovering about the Pleasant.
So far he had not been disappointed. Meeting Tiffany Armstrong was an unexpected bonus. He knew she had dated Officers Semple and Owens among the constabulary, plus any number of townsmen. Neither Semple nor Owens nor anyone for that matter had a single bad thing to say about her. He had been introduced to her before and found her charming. The brief trip with her to the inn confirmed his first impression.
Stubbs was about to pull away, then hesitated. Perhaps, he thought, he should do a quick perimeter check. The folks were pretty isolated out here, after all, and there was a dangerous criminal on the loose. He contacted dispatch, declared his intentions, killed the headlights and exited the car.
·
Tiffany hung her dress over the clothes horse in the Rudleys’ quarters. She was about to change into her nightgown when she realized she was hungry. She had had a light dinner and remembered that Gregoire had made a red velvet cake. She pulled her robe on over her slip and tiptoed out into the hallway, leaving the door open, moving softly to avoid waking anyone. She particularly didn’t want to wake Mrs. Sawchuck.
She crept down the stairs
and turned to scan the lobby, which seemed alien in the dark, the hardwood gleaming in the faint light of the nightlights. She could hear the lake as a vague murmur, the creak of limb on limb of the big maple closest the inn, and the venerable old place sighing in its sleep. She felt melancholy, wondering if this was what the inn would be like once the Rudleys had passed away. It seemed that when Rudley was here, even when he was asleep, his energy vibrated from the front desk.
She took the final two steps and turned toward the dining room.
She paused to contemplate the pale reflection of the moon on the lake through the curtains, then started as a shadow passed the window. But it was only maple branches bobbing on a light breeze.
She took a deep breath of relief and turned toward the kitchen.
·
Lloyd woke in the basement, his nose wrinkling. Skunk. He didn’t mind the smell much. A man had told him once it was good for clearing your sinuses. He could tell from the characteristically strong garlic odour that the skunk had scored a direct hit on someone or something. The last time a skunk had sprayed him, Mrs. Rudley had made him bathe in tomato juice. He turned on his pillow and fell back to sleep.
·
Tiffany stopped halfway across the dining room. She noticed a sudden strong odour of skunk but also something reminiscent of fetid earth and mildew. Then the scent of skunk again, this time overpowering. A shadow fell across the kitchen door. She screamed.
A filthy ghost hunched in the doorway.
“Who are you?” She barely managed the words.
White eyes stared at her from a grimy face. The ghost bolted past her, strewing cans and bottles. She stepped on a can of peppercorns and fell. Struggling up, dazed, she heard someone hammering on the door to the back porch. Gathering her robe around her, she ran to the door.
“Open up!” a voice called out. “Police!”
She pressed her ear against the door. “How do I know you’re the police?”
“It’s Officer Stubbs.”
She swallowed hard. “How do I know you’re Officer Stubbs?”
“Tiffany, it’s me. I drove you home tonight.”
She hesitated, then opened the door.
Judith Alguire - Rudley 04 - Peril at the Pleasant Page 17
