by David Gane
chapter 2
It’s my parents’ twenty-fifth anniversary. The big two-five. They celebrate every year, but this year is a bigger deal than usual. Since they’ve managed to stay married as long as they have, they’ve decided to celebrate, Shepherd-style. And it’s true, lots of my friends’ parents have split, so this big anniversary blow-out, with all the friends, family, neighbours, and co-workers invited, is maybe understandable. Dad gets to shine on the barbecue, and Mom can relax and laugh with people who care about them.
We’re expecting a full house. Spring thaw came early this year, and the weather is supposed to be warm, so people will be mingling inside and out. I’m going to help—I promised I would—but my plan is to hole up in the peace and quiet of my room until I’m absolutely needed.
I don’t mind these events, but I need to gear up for them. There’ll be lots of questions, as there often are, but with the past year and a half I’ve had, they’re getting a little more awkward. Oh, people try to be kind in their curiosity and side-step the big discussion points like my dead girlfriend and my new talent for finding trouble, but they usually end up tripping all over themselves in their efforts, and then I have to come up with a new topic.
But the new year has been good so far. After the frightening events of last summer’s woodland adventure, we’ve finally fallen back into a groove, and life feels almost normal again. Mom’s practice is thriving, and Dad’s busy at whatever it is he does—hopefully someday I’ll figure that out. They try to keep the drama to a minimum, despite my worst efforts, so for them an uneventful house is a happy house.
My sister, Heather, travelled from Calgary, where she is studying law and loving it. She rarely complains. From what she’s shared, she’s having the stereotypical college experience of too much work coupled with just enough fun. She’s driving back early Monday morning so she can finish up some big final project. She already has plans for a summer internship at a fancy law firm—no doubt she’s earned it—and I’m proud of her.
My other sister, Jodi, and her husband, Bryan, have been home from Winnipeg for the week, visiting Mom and Dad and helping prepare for tonight. Jodi is now full-time as a veterinary technician at the zoo, while Bryan’s been working at his architecture firm. They’re also buying properties—putting in a ton of renos, then flipping them—so their lives are more than a little hectic at the moment, but I’ve overheard Mom and Jodi talking about them slowing down in a few years to start a family.
And I’m as busy as the rest of my family. Grade 12—last year of high school. My marks are great, so Mom and Dad aren’t complaining. They’ve been discussing post-secondary options, but I’ve been stalling on making a decision. Two years ago, I was certain I wanted to go into medicine like Mom, but then my life turned upside down and it’s left me reevaluating most things, including what I want to do with the rest of my life. Fortunately, my parents keep the talk to a minimum, trusting that I’ll make a choice soon enough. I only wish I could have the same faith in myself.
This indecision hasn’t, however, slowed down my efforts to get back on course. I’ve been putting in the time with my studies, trying to get my grades as high as I can so that when I do decide on a career path, I’ve got something to show for it. I’ve also made training as important as my marks. I’ve learned that being in top form athletically is as important as having a brain that fires quickly, especially after all I’ve put my body through over the last year.
Unfortunately, I’ve earned a bit of a reputation at my school the past few years. The whispering in the halls has nearly stopped, but I know people still think of me differently. Some criticize me and believe I’m some sort of vigilante, trying to right the wrongs of the world. Yet, I’ll also get the occasional teen asking for my help, whether it’s finding out if their boyfriend is cheating or if their friend stole their money. Of course, I politely say no, because almost losing a friend last summer and having my family’s lives threatened was enough to make me stop chasing mysteries.
This has made things a little better. Every time I turn someone down, the heavy feeling deep in my gut melts away a bit more. My social life has become steadier. I hang out with my teammates—and my buddy, Mike Raynor, and I keep out of just enough trouble not to get bored.
Actually, I think the only one in our family still struggling from the effects of last summer is our golden retriever, Ollie. He got knocked around pretty hard during the home invasion and lost the hearing in one of his ears, making him skittish and not his usual self. He’s more protective of us, and when strangers visit or he hears an unexpected noise, it sets him off. It makes me sad but I suppose things could have been a lot worse for him.
And as for Charlie Wolfe, he’s an ongoing fixture of the household. The first Sunday of every month, he arrives for supper, dessert in hand. He even sticks around afterward to help with the dishes before disappearing into the night. Or he’ll sporadically show up with a coffee and doughnut for me, or drop a book off for Dad or tea for Mom. He’s even agreed to come to tonight’s party. Yet he still keeps his distance, for the most part. He seems to like it that way and we try not to pry. Maybe one day he’ll bridge the gap, but for now, what we have works.
chapter 3
A heavy knock interrupts my daydreaming. The door blows open and the hallway light spills into my sanctuary. Heather has sent the hellfire of our older sister, Jodi, at me!
“Little brother!” she yells.
“Sorry, what?” I ask, pretending like I can’t hear what she’s yelling at me through the music in my ears.
Jodi raises an eyebrow.
I pull the headphones out and give her a “will-this-get-me-out-of-trouble?” smile and jump off the bed.
“Whatever, Mr. Charm. Get your butt downstairs and help out.”
“Copy that,” I say, carefully edging past her through the doorway.
Yup, things are definitely back to normal.
chapter 4
My family’s got me running in circles for half an hour before the guests start showing up. Mom has me do a quick spot-check vacuum and sweep, as well as set the table for a buffet-style feast before sending me outside to see how Dad’s doing with the barbecue.
It’s sunny and hot out, but there’s still a small pile of snow in the shadows of the yard where the sun can’t reach. Patches of green and puddles are everywhere.
Dad’s nowhere around, so I wander over to the makeshift bar and grab a pale ale from the ice bucket, crack it open, and sneak a sip. I don’t get to enjoy it for too long before Dad steps out behind me.
“Hey, Pops. Need anything?”
He grabs my beer, taking a big swig. “Nope, just this, thanks.” He gives me a wink.
“Not yet, huh?”
“Nope. Not quite yet.”
I surrender. “No harm in trying.”
He tells me to go help in the kitchen, but when the doorbell rings, I rush to answer it, hoping it’ll get me out of chopping veggies.
Of course, it’s Aunt Sally and Uncle Sheldon who arrive first—they always do—because they never, ever leave anything to chance.
I love my Aunt Sally, but I have to say she’s the perfect fit for him. Uncle Sheldon’s a tax accountant for some big firm out in Toronto, and he has always believed in being precise. She retired several years ago from teaching and now spends most of her time running their lives like a finely tuned machine. They have a son, Malcolm, who’s the same age as Jodi, but he stayed home this weekend, studying for his last exam in dentistry.
Aunt Sally shoves a big gift into my hands, immaculately wrapped in blue foil and tied with a silver ribbon. “Anthony, set this somewhere safe. I don’t want it being battered around.”
Sheldon is right behind her, already worrying. “Is my rental going to be okay on the street? The street signs say only two hours.”
“Only on weekdays, Uncle Sheldon. It’ll be fine.”
He double-clicks the key fob twice more to make sure the door is locked. “They should mark the area better,” he grumbles, heading past me into the house.
I place Aunt Sally’s present on the growing pile in the living room. A couple of flower arrangements showed up earlier in the day from distant family members and acquaintances who were unable to make the trip, and gifts and cards had arrived throughout the week in the mail.
“Hello?”
I hear a familiar voice in the front hall. Mom beats me to the door this time and greets Irene—her longtime friend and receptionist—and Irene’s partner, Barb.
“Happy anniversary, Keya!” She wraps Mom in a huge embrace. “Where’s Ben? I want to get his secrets to a happy and successful quarter-century of marriage.”
Mom laughs. “I don’t think you two need any help for that!”
“Agreed,” Barb admits as she gives Mom a less exuberant but no less friendly hug.
Irene’s been working with Mom since forever and has a magical ability to keep the most irate patient calm. Barb is a clerk for the city, but the two of them also run a thriving business on the side, doing residential yard maintenance in the summer and house-watching for “snowbirds.” In fact, business has been so good for them this year that they’ve brought me on part-time to help with the load. Although Irene assures Mom that she’s not going to quit working for her for a very long time, I think the fact that they’ve hired me has eased Mom’s worries. Besides, they’re great bosses and the job puts a little extra cash in my pocket, so I’m not complaining.
A couple of our neighbours arrive shortly afterward, bringing presents and food, and I’m back and forth throughout the house delivering it all to the appropriate places.
As I pass through the kitchen, Heather calls me over. I worry she’s going to get me chopping, but she’s on her toes, stretching for a top shelf. “Can you reach the big salad bowl up there?”
I reach for it easily. “No problem, shorty.”
Jodi looks up at me. “When did you get so tall?”
I consider the question but shrug. Like most things, I wished for it for a long time and then it just happened without me noticing.
I watch the impressive food assembly production line they’ve got going. Bryan’s chopping, she’s mixing, and Ollie’s at their feet, waiting for extra scraps to come his way.
“Can you take him downstairs before more people arrive?”
I nod and call our pup to the stairs. He’s hesitant to leave the kitchen but comes along without much of a fight. I guide him over to a little bed I’ve set up and pat it so he’ll lie down.
I hate putting him in the basement, but the bigger the crowd gets, the more uneasy he’s likely to be. He hasn’t acted aggressively to anyone—yet—but we’d rather not put him in a situation where he might. I give him a good rubdown and a deep scratch through his fur, and he gives me several licks of thanks.
I go back upstairs, avoiding the kitchen, and hover by the door, waiting for more arrivals.
The front room is filled with even more guests. I see Dad’s former research assistant and friend, Cory, and his wife, Cynthia, talking with Irene and Barb, and then I notice Uncle Ed talking with Dad outside.
Uncle Ed’s not really my uncle, but rather a grade school friend of Mom’s; he’s been in our lives forever. He’s sporty and athletic, and always made camping trips fun. He also helped grow my love of basketball when I was a little kid, teaching me how to run the ball down the court and shoot. He used to work with Mom ages ago, but then started doing something in computers and making big money. His job keeps him on the road all the time now and he’s rarely in town, so it’s a real surprise that he’s able to make it today.
Aunt Ayana, Mom’s younger sister, arrives next. Although she’s from Vancouver, she’s working in the art department on some film production in London right now, but flew in late last night to surprise my parents. Mom says Ayana has always been a free spirit, even as a child.
She bustles into the house now, travel bag slung over her shoulder and several bottles of wine in her hands. “My goodness, nephew, you’re handsome for being so pale!”
She likes to tease because she and Mom emigrated with their family from Jamaica in the 1970s, while Dad is third- generation Canadian, making my sisters and me what I
affectionately call “mocha.”
However, she doesn’t even give me a chance to respond before asking, “You think this’ll be enough Chardonnay for your mom?”
“I think so, Aunt Ayana.” I try to grab something from her to help but she pulls away.
“Mind yourself, kiddo. I can do this myself. Just point me to my room.”
“All right,” I say, laughing. “You’re up the stairs and to the right.”
She barely makes it halfway. “Oh Lord, is that Ed out there? All the trouble has certainly come out of the woodwork for this big day!” She forgets about her room and aims for the backyard but immediately veers off again to give Irene, Barb, Cory, and Cynthia hugs.
I shake my head. It’s amazing that she’s even made it this far into the house.
I tuck myself into a corner by the buffet table, watching the busy flow of friends, neighbours, and co-workers streaming from room to room. The place is bursting at the seams. Everyone seems to be here, except …
The doorbell chimes again.
chapter 5
“Anthony,” Mom calls out, “come say hello to Maggie.”
I have no clue who Maggie is, but I guess she’s dining with us.
In the front hall with Mom stands Detective Gekas, in a party dress—and with a man.
I don’t know if I’m more surprised that she’s in my house or that she’s got a date and is being normal and stuff.
The truth is, like Charlie, she cares about our well-being and checks in on us a fair bit. I guess you could say she’s developing a close relationship with the whole family.
I get over my knee-jerk reaction and put out my hand. “Detective–” Strange how I can’t bring myself to use her first name. It doesn’t feel right.
“It’s okay. Will you just call me ‘Gekas’ tonight—not ‘Detective?’ ”
I nod. “It’s good to see you,” I smile sincerely.
I admit there’s some relief in seeing her outside of work: it means no one’s hurt or gone missing … or worse.
I’m absolutely done with that.
“You too, Anthony.” She turns to her date. “This is Spencer.”
I don’t hesitate to offer my hand again.
Spencer takes it, shaking with a solid grip. “Nice to meet you, Tony. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
I glance at Gekas, unsure how to take his comment. Every interaction between us has been me lying to her, evading her questions, telling her about dead people, or dealing with the killers that Charlie and I find.
No telling what Spencer’s heard.
I look for a way to shift the focus, but Dad’s former colleague, Cory, does it for me.
“Detective Gekas?” he asks, strolling over. “Haven’t I been seeing your name in the paper?”
Barb perks up, realizing what he’s talking about. “Oh my, you aren’t the detective looking into those ghastly murders, are you?”
Gekas glances at me before answering. “Unfortunately, yes.”
She’s uncomfortable and for good reason.
Last fall, two bodies were found. One was discovered floating in the lake in September, while the other showed up in October on a small island along the creek near the RCMP barracks on the west side of the city. Although the victims seemed to have no connection, both had been shot in the head, dismembered and dumped into canvas bags tied with purple ribbons. The gruesomeness of the crimes had set the public and the police on edge, and everyone expected another body to appear in November, but nothing happened
, with some attributing it to the early bitter cold.
Mom and Dad’s guests flock around Gekas, asking in an innocent but intrusive way whether there’ve been any recent developments. She is polite in her refusal to answer questions, but I can see the strain in her eyes and hear the exhaustion in her voice.
Spencer interrupts, “Honey, perhaps you’d like something to drink before you start talking shop? Anthony, maybe you can help Maggie out?”
I take my cue. “Can I get you wine or— You know what? There are so many— Why don’t you come and see your choices?”
The edge of Gekas’s mouth creeps upward and her eyes brighten a bit. “That sounds great.” She excuses herself to follow me outside. Once we’re clear of the crowd, she leans in close, grinning. “Thank you, Anthony.”
“No worries.”
She studies me. “You and Charlie haven’t been snooping around—?” She wants to say something more but pauses.
Although Charlie and I are certainly aware of the murders, the events of last summer have kept us from tossing ourselves back into danger. In fact, since our last adventure, we haven’t even talked about acting on any of these stupid notions.
“Don’t worry—” I try to muster “Maggie” but can’t do it. “The truth is, Detective, we’re trying to leave that business to the professionals.”
She gives a weak smile and sighs, but if I’m not mistaken, it doesn’t seem like relief.
“Detective?”
She covers the look quickly with a nod. “Never mind. Good. That’s good to hear.”
She’s holding something back, but she’s already moved on. “I think I’ll take an IPA,” she says, cracking it open and taking a couple of big gulps.
I stand there for a moment, wanting to ask what’s going on, but that’s when Dad appears, and she turns away from me to give him a warm hug.
And I guess that’s the end of the conversation.
For now.
