by Alison Bruce
“Collins persecuted his wife. One of the ways he used was threatening her cat. Maybe he’s come back. Ms. Collins says she’s in terror of him returning and I believe her.”
“What if Crabbe is right and he’s dead?”
“That wouldn’t matter if she didn’t know or believe it to be true.”
I poured my black coffee and heated milk for Jake’s latte. Pouring the two together into his mug was beyond my current capabilities, so I instructed him how to do it.
“Go slowly and pour each liquid at the same rate.”
When that task was completed, I headed for the couch. I curled up at one end while Jake sat on the other. For a minute or two we savoured our drinks. Then Jake got back to business.
“What I meant was if Collins is dead, he can’t be the cat killer. If he’s alive, there’s no reason for him to come back when he faces prosecution.”
“Does he? My father, the man he shot, is dead. He might think he can come back now. According my father’s files, he thought he was clever but he wasn’t very smart.”
Jake nodded, giving away that he’d been reading the transcripts I made. For a moment I was pissed off, but the drugs in my system slowed down my knee jerk reaction, giving me time to think.
My father was his partner. He had as much right as I did to read those files.
“There’s another possibility,” I said. “The fear he might come back may have triggered a psychotic break. Irene might have become her own tormentor.”
“Even if she has, that doesn’t mean she’s going out at night killing cats.”
“I’m just raising possibilities.”
Jake blew out a sigh, or perhaps he was cooling his latte.
“We’re back to where we were last night. Too many theories, not enough answers.”
He had a point, but I had a gut feeling that Irene and her sociopathic husband were connected to the cat killings. Even if they weren’t, there was a mystery there that needed to be solved.
“You’ve got a point,” I said, getting up. “We’re just going to keep going around in circles until we have another piece of the puzzle. I’m going to finish formatting the last section report. That sucker is going out before I leave the office.”
“Can you handle that on pain meds and using only one hand?”
“One hand, a thumb and a finger.”
He gave me the long stare. Honestly, I wished my father hadn’t taught that trick to all his protégés. Fortunately, my mother taught me a counter attack. Roll your eyes heavenward, sigh and wait. Jake gave in first.
“Okay. I’m going home for a shower and clothes for tonight. Do you need me to pick up anything for you?”
I shook my head.
“Then I’ll be back in time to sign off on the report before we go to the Thorsens.”
I gave him a thumbs-up with my bandaged hand.
Damn! I’d forgotten it was Yuletide.
As soon as Jake was gone I called Magnus. I needed the presents I’d left at his place and something festive from my closet.
“I can put it together, sweetie, but can I send it over in a taxi? I just got in and I’m toast.”
“No problem.”
Twenty minutes later there was someone at the door. I assumed it was the taxi driver but checked just in case. It was Mr. Koehne. Tempted as I was to ignore him, I was his landlord.
I opened the door halfway. I wasn’t going to invite him in if I could avoid it.
“How can I help you, Mr. Koehne?”
His face was flushed and his fists were clenched at his sides.
“Is there something wrong?” I prompted.
“Stay away from my sister. She isn’t well. She can’t handle visitors.”
“I was warned that she has issues dealing with people face to face. That’s why we talked through her intercom.”
Koehne’s clenched fists came up in a defensive posture.
“I don’t want you talking to her at all.”
I took a half step back, not because he scared me but so I could slam the door in his face if he got any more belligerent.
“Mr. Koehne, I am conducting an investigation on behalf of the City Police and the East Hills Neighbourhood. I will talk to whoever I need to. Your sister didn’t have an issue with this.”
“You don’t know what my sister has issues with.” He dropped his fists and tried a different approach. “If you have any questions, please bring them to me. My sister isn’t well. She’s phobic.”
That was a familiar line.
“What is she afraid of?”
“I don’t know. Everything.”
Including her brother? Or was he afraid of her?
“What are you so worried about?”
Koehne tried to shove the door open. Big mistake. When I opened it halfway, I engaged the security lock that would keep it no more than halfway open. When he tried to push past me, I closed the door, trapping him between the jam and the edge. Now the door wouldn’t open further without me disengaging the lock.
“Mr. Koehne, forceful entry unless you have due cause, is against the law. Now, I will excuse your transgression on the basis of brotherly concern, but only if you cooperate with my investigation.”
He tried to wiggle free. I closed the door a little bit more.
“Fine,” he wheezed. “Just let me loose.”
“No problem. Just back into the lobby and take a seat.”
I released the door. At that moment the elevator door opened. It was Magnus.
Koehne looked like he wanted to make a run for it.
“Lim, help Mr. Koehne to a seat. Maybe he’ll cooperate with an active duty police detective.”
Magnus shot me a wide-eyed look, but fell into the character of his twin brother easily.
“Do what Garrett tells you and don’t make me take a professional interest in this.”
He then stood by and looked grim. I just hoped that Koehne thought the large rolling suitcase he was pulling was filled with ordinance instead of wardrobe choices and Yuletide presents.
19
“I was asking your sister about her ex-husband. Do you know where Blake Collins is?
“No.”
“Do you know what happened to him?”
He hesitated for a moment.
“No. I haven’t seen him since the day he made bail. My father was pissed that I helped him find a bonds broker, but he was my friend. I didn’t know then what he had been doing to my sister.”
That was hard to believe.
“You had no idea he was an abusive spouse?”
“Irene was really sensitive. I figured it was her imagination. It wasn’t like she had bruises or anything. She used to think Blake would hurt me and that was just stupid.”
I leaned against the door jamb. This was a stupid time and place to interrogate him. I was too tired to follow through.
“Is Blake Collins the cat-killer?”
“No.” Emphatic, quick and to the point, that was no lie.
“Do you know who is?”
“Why ask me? This is harassment.”
“No,” said Magnus, sounding like he was ready to spit gravel. “But I think Mr. Koehne has answered enough questions for tonight, Garrett.”
Koehne was smart and made a hasty exit. As soon as he was gone I sank into one of the foyer chairs.
“I thought you were going to send the stuff by taxi?”
“I got a message from a friend in ER. I thought I better check up on you. Good job too.”
“You were great. Thanks.”
He shook his head.
“That’s not what I mean.”
I looked down at my hand. Blood had soaked through the bandages. It was time for Magnus to take a professional interest in me.
A couple of hours later, clean, dressed in holiday casual wear and terrified, I stood in front of the Thorsen’s house.
Think of it as a business function, I told myself. My business partner and I were meeting a client and h
is family for dinner. No reason to be stressed.
Right, except that the Thorsens were my family. I babysat the Thorsen kids. I was with Aunt Maggie when Erica, their youngest, was born. Up until Jake Carmedy came along, Dad and I spent every Yule at the Thorsen home. Then my father practically adopted Carmedy. After one very tense Yule dinner, I made a point of making the holiday visit with my mother and David for a couple of years and any time I might run into Jake. It was like I lost the Thorsens in a divorce.
Jake’s heavy hand landed on my shoulder. He had been parking the car.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Sure. I was just waiting for you.”
“Liar.”
The front door opened and the youngest Thorsen ran out and flung herself at me.
“Katie!”
The girl was no featherweight. She almost knocked me off me feet. That would have been embarrassing—a detective bowled over by a ten-year-old.
“Erica! Settle down,” the Chief shouted from the entry.
“It’s okay. I don’t mind.”
I flipped the girl over. Erica giggled so hard she started to hiccup. I put her down and handed her two of the three bags I brought.
“Here, monster-girl, these are to go under the tree.”
Once Erica was out of sight, I hugged my bad hand to my chest. I was going to need more painkillers.
The Chief greeted me with a scowl.
“Mohr tell you about last night?”
“Only after I grilled him.”
“Mohr didn’t call you?”
“No. I called Mohr when my daily reports flagged your name. Why didn't you call me, Kathleen?”
“She was asleep,” said Jake. “I should have called you, but it was a long night. Sorry about that, Chief.”
The Chief dropped an arm around my shoulder and guided me into the kitchen.
“We’ll talk about it later. Tonight is Yuletide and work gets left at the door.”
20
Aunt Maggie greeted me with the cook’s hug. Her arms held me tight while she did her best to keep her hands off me. Andrea, the eldest, was scooping the dressing out of the turkey. She smiled and waved at us. Sonia had the job of stirring the gravy, so we exchanged a one-armed hug.
I brought premium coffee beans, Bailey’s and peach chutney. Jake brought warm-from-the-oven rolls, fresh churned butter and peach jam. As soon as these contributions were presented, Maggie put us to work.
“Igor is preparing to carve. Kate, can you set out the condiments and relishes? Or will the jars be a problem?”
I waved my good hand.
“I’m good.”
“Jake, you know where to find the bread basket. What kind of rolls did you make us this year?”
“Multigrain harvest rolls and sour dough twists.”
Jake baked bread? If it was good, I might cheat on my favourite bakery.
“Did you churn the butter?” I asked, setting out bowls for the pickles.
“I got it from a Mennonite farmer at the market.”
“But you found time to bake bread between leaving the office and when you picked me up.”
“From dough I prepped earlier and froze.” He handed the bread basket to Erica to put on the table and helped me with the jar lids which, quite frankly, I didn’t have a hope of wrestling open. “But that’s why I was a bit late. Good job Lim was there to help out.”
Magnus had cleaned and redressed my wound and was helping me wash and change when Jake arrived. Since I didn’t have enough energy to go upstairs, this was being done in the office washroom with the door open.
I reintroduced the two men who had met briefly at my father’s memorial. They acted cool, but I got the impression they were measuring each other up.
Magnus had height.
Jake had depth.
I called it a tie but kept my mouth shut.
“He’s a nurse,” I reminded Jake.
“Are you two talking shop?” Igor growled, waving the carving knife at us.
“No!” we said together, making the kids laugh.
Once the pickles were out, I ferried the dishes to the table while Jake cleaned up. There were two varieties of pickled onion, three varieties of pickled herring, gherkins, bread and butter pickles, sliced dill pickles, tamarind sauce, fig sauce and peach chutney. I tested the chutney before bringing a couple of jars. It wasn’t as good as the jam, but it was pretty damned good. Good enough to steal another taste.
“You like it?” Jake asked, catching me in the act. “Mrs. Cole must go through bushels of peaches. You have to wonder what she does with all the pits. Compost or recycling?”
“Mulch. But that’s just the shells.” Then I had an idea. “I need to check something.”
“Not work,” Jake warned, keeping his voice down. “Not here.”
He followed me back to the kitchen, where I grabbed my bag and helped myself to a glass of water.
“Be right back, Aunt Maggie.”
I headed for the powder room. I had one more task to heap upon Mohr, which, if it got back to the Chief would get me in more trouble than doing a little work at a family dinner. Besides, I also needed to take painkillers and it was always a good idea to pee before dinner.
The Thorsens knew how to host a dinner. They had a buffet with a warming tray set up with a plate of dark meat, a plate of white meat, two types of potatoes, three hot vegetables, gravy and stuffing. Then there was an ice tray with a mixed green salad, the assortment of pickles and herring. I knew what was coming and had worn harem pants with a drawstring waist.
“Red or white?” the Chief asked, as I loaded up my plate.
“Neither,” said Jake. “She’s on prescription pain meds for a couple of days.”
“Traitor.”
“Good call,” said Maggie. “If you don’t have wine, you should okay for a little something later.”
After the main course, I made Irish Coffees and we settled in the living room. There was an open spot on the couch next to Jake and I was tempted to take it. Then Erica pulled me down onto the floor next to her. A moment later, the excited little girl bounced up again, like she was made of rubber—a trait she’d had since she was a toddler.
“Presents!” she cried. “I want to give Kate my present first.”
No one objected, so Erica dug through the parcels until she found what she was looking for. Finally, she handed over a homemade box with a recycled bow on top. I opened the box, removed the tissue and pulled out a coffee mug. It was a bit lumpy and included a perfect thumb impression where the handle was joined to the cup.
“I made it myself,” Erica said. “I painted this side.”
She pointed to the side nearest me. It was decorated with holly and mistletoe.
“But on this side,” she turned the mug in my hands, “I had them put a photo. See, there’s me.”
It was a family photo from Erica’s first year. She was more interested in trying to get into Mama’s blouse than posing for the camera. The Chief had Sonia on his lap. Beside him was Dad with Andrea perched on a knee. On the other side of Maggie, I was trying to get baby Erica’s attention. Beside me, sitting on the arm of the couch was Jake.
Our first and last Yule together, captured on a mug.
I felt a lump rise up in my throat. Behind me, I felt a knee press against my back, offering support. I knew it was Jake’s and leaned into it.
“You okay, Katie?” Erica asked, her voice trembling. “Don't you like it?”
I pulled the girl into a tight hug.
“I love it, honey. It’s the best gift ever.”
Erica returned the hug then went back to delivering presents, taking time out only when she found a present for herself.
I kept leaning against Jake’s leg. When the kids went to play with their presents, I scooted back so my back was supported by the couch. Jake’s knees kept me from tipping over. I was at that stage of drowsiness when I could hear conversations but didn’t have the energy to respond or
even to keep my eyes open.
“Big change from last time you two were in this house,” said the Chief. “I take it you’re getting along now.”
“Except when we aren’t,” said Jake.
“I’m going to want her back, you know. I let her have the time off because she would have quit on me if I didn’t, but she has the makings of a fine homicide detective. She won’t get that opportunity in private investigation.”
“Joe did.”
“Joe was Joe. There’s still a lot of resentment towards private contractors. You don’t see it because Joe was practically legendary. In other cities there’s been trouble. Toronto’s given up the practice completely. They’ll refer qualified private investigators, but they won’t hire consulting detectives.”
“Are you telling me that Carmedy and Garrett Investigations can’t expect much work from you?” Jake asked. “Or will you still send us the pet crimes?”
Yay, Jake, I thought.
“No business tonight,” said Maggie, sounding as sleepy as I felt. “Jake, Andrea made up the couch in the basement. I was thinking Kate could sleep with the girls.”
“I can sleep on the couch too,” I said, without lifting my head. “It’s big enough. Then Sonia won’t have to share with Erica.”
I opened my eyes and had the satisfaction of seeing my godfather blush. My guess was that it had more to do with being overheard than my provocative offer.
With a grunt of effort, I stood, using Jake’s knee for leverage. Once I was up, I grabbed Jake’s wrist and pulled him to his feet.
“Come on, partner. Good night all.”
As promised, the couch was made up into a queen-sized bed. There was also a full bath. I called dibs on the basis that I couldn’t keep standing much longer. One of my gifts had been a snowman nightshirt which I changed into after a quick wash up. When I came out, Jake had stripped down to t-shirt and boxers.
“Is sleeping with me a form of rebellion?”
I grinned.
“Partly.”
“Hold that thought. I’ve had to pee for half an hour but I didn’t want to disturb you.”
While he was gone, I slipped between the covers, staying to the edge, leaving him most of the mattress. If we kept to the edges, we’d have a decent buffer zone. That would work.
