“I’ve never seen her before. She was nice and very pretty. She had hair like Mommy’s. I told her you used to be a policeman and asked her if she knew you, but she didn’t. I told her I wanted to be a policewoman too.”
“Do you remember if she talked to Ariel?”
“No.”
Hands clean and dried, we head for the delicious smells wafting from the kitchen.
I can’t believe what I’m seeing. I glance at Sam and she seems unmoved. Ellie is glued to the TV.
Canada’s Littlest Beauty is a reality show where a bunch of little girls compete to win a cross between a beauty pageant and a talent show. What appalls me is that they are all wearing makeup, are dressed inappropriately and are dancing and parading about in an overtly sexual way. Is this fundamentally wrong or am I just getting old? Am I turning into my straight-laced mother?
The mothers on the show are definitely not straight-laced
They all seem to be pressuring their daughters excessively and by far the worst is Rebecca Bradbury. My client stands out in another way too: all the other mothers on the show seem to be overweight and under-intelligent.
As I look at the show I become more and more appalled at the ways in which Ariel is being forced to perform. Apparently, all the contestants are competing to be in a beauty pageant that is going to take place in Toronto. Ariel is seen being coached by singing, dancing and gymnastics teachers and I make a mental note to look into the backgrounds of her tutors. All the mothers are very demanding of their kids but Rebecca goes beyond the pale. At one point she screams at Ariel for messing up a dance number.
In this episode, the girls are competing in a local talent show in the Fraser Valley. In the run up to the contest, we see Rebecca doing little things to undermine the other contestants: a comment here, a derisive laugh there, all nasty little tactics.
When the contest begins, I feel myself becoming increasingly angry. The girls are dressed in swimsuits, some with tiny skirts; they all are wearing hair extensions in adult styles and are heavily made up. Many of the girls have devices like a boxer’s mouth guard which gives them the look of having perfect, very white, very adult-looking teeth.
Then it hits me.
Ariel’s photo. I know why it looked wrong to me. She was wearing a sequined dress, probably bought for this show. She was very subtly made up to look like an adult.
The children parade around the stage in what seems to me to be sexually provocative ways and I can’t suppress the mental image of pedophiles everywhere glued to their TVs, touching themselves in ecstasy.
As soon as the show ends, Ellie gets up from her place between us on the couch and goes upstairs to have her bath and get ready for bed.
Sam is lounging in old sweats and a T-shirt yet looks stunningly elegant in that way only Sam can pull off. I feel a catch in my throat as I look at her and curse myself again for what I have thrown away.
“What did you think about that show?” I ask her.
“In fairly poor taste, I’d say.”
“Poor taste! It’s bordering on pedophilia.” My voice has crept up a decibel or two.
“I think that’s a bit of an overreaction.” I can’t believe she is not as outraged as I am.
“An overreaction. You have got to be kidding.” That was more of a shout. “It’s—”
“Cal, please.” Her voice is distressed. “I don’t want to argue with you. This was a lovely evening. Please, don’t spoil it.”
There is a sadness in her eyes which deflates my anger.
“What’s the matter, Sam?”
“Nothing.” A sure sign there is.
Direct questioning won’t work; I just stay silent, looking at her.
“Why did you quit the Department?” she asks.
Not the question I was expecting.
“Long story,” I say.
“We have all night.”
I look at her and wonder what she may mean by that but her face gives nothing away.
“Well you know what happened with my colleagues?” I say. She nods. “Well… I guess that it just kind of broke the bond of trust you need when you’re a cop. So I started to think about my life with the VPD and realized that twice in the last couple of years, Ellie was put in a lot of danger and that you could easily have been killed, both as a direct result of cases I was working on. So—”
“Both those were as much my fault as yours,” she says. It’s the first time Sam has made any reference to these incidents, let alone ascribed any self-blame.
“Either way,” I continue, “I didn’t want to have either of you in danger because of what I do for a living. I was also feeling very guilty about my failure to contain the situation that put Stammo in that wheelchair—we both know he’s there because of me—so when he suggested starting the firm…” I shrug.
She smiles and takes a long breath. “Cal, I need to ask you something.”
“Ask away.” My feelings belie my casual tone.
“It’s been just over a year since…” My heart drops, I know what’s coming. “Well… since we stood in the kitchen, in this house, and said that we still loved each other.”
I am silenced by my feelings of guilt but Sam takes my silence for something else. “You do remember that Cal?” There is an edge of sarcasm in her voice.
“Yes.” I fail to keep the frustration out of mine.
“I know you were consumed by the case you were on, the murder of that poor boy, but when it was all over… nothing. It was like what we had said never happened.”
“I know, Sam. I’m sorry.”
“But why Cal?” A tear is starting to form in the corner of her eye.
My guilt is weighing me down. I can’t tell her the truth. No matter what the extenuating circumstances, if I told her it would hurt her so much that… Or am I fooling myself? Am I just too ashamed to admit it?
The silence is palpable. I have to say something. Why can’t I just tell her the truth, tell her I love her, take her in my arms and smother her in kisses?
One look at her face decides it for me. The tear that was forming in her eye is running down the side of her nose, being chased by another. I have to man up to the truth, ask forgiveness and let the cards lie where they fall. My hero knew this: For they breathe truth that breathe their words in pain.
“Sam—”
“Ta-daaahh.” Ellie leaps into the room. Hair wet and face still glowing from the bath; she is wearing some of Sam’s makeup, not at all inexpertly applied, and is sporting a swimming costume and a pair of Sam’s high-heeled shoes.
In a parody of Canada’s Littlest Beauty, she cavorts across the living room gyrating in what she fondly imagines to be a sexy dance number.
I am confounded by a mélange of emotions: frustration at losing my moment with Sam; amusement at Ellie’s hilarious antics; horror at the explicitness of her dance routine and, overall, sadness at the passing of innocence.
But, as it so often does, humour comes to the rescue. Sam starts chuckling and the floodgates open. In moments, we are both caught up in paroxysms of laughter which make Ellie intensify her shenanigans, which in turn, ramp up our mirth, now bordering on hysteria.
I long to feel the touch of Sam’s hand and I move to reach across the couch and take it but before my hand has moved three inches, Ellie launches herself into the air and lands, on her knees, between us. Her arms are spread wide to accept the accolades of the crowd which Sam and I dutifully supply.
Sam takes Ellie’s hand and stands. “OK young lady, it’s time for bed. Let’s get that makeup off you. Kiss Daddy goodnight.” I get a big hug and a kiss on the cheek which I reciprocate.
The laughter has broken the ice. With Ellie in bed, I will be able to tell Sam how I really feel, tell her how much I love her.
Sam gives me that smile I love.
“I’m really glad you came to dinner, Cal. It was lovely to see you. Remember Ellie has a Pro-D day on Friday, you said you’d take her for the afternoon and evenin
g. I’ll see you then when you pick her up.”
I’ve been dismissed. I feel a real physical pain and, for the first time in a while, I feel the Beast inside telling me I can wash the pain away with just a small hit of heroin. Just this once.
10
Cal
Wednesday
This place pushes a bunch of my buttons. During my brief return to the VPD I was based here. A lot of the people here know my history and most of them don’t like what they know. Stammo usually comes here alone when we are working cases that involve the VPD, but today I came with him. I’m in MCU and he’s downstairs talking to a buddy from the drug squad. He thinks Tyler might have shown up on their radar.
Ariel’s kidnapping is firmly in the hands of Major Crime and is being worked by Steve Waters, formerly a close colleague, but too much water has gone under the bridge for us to even pretend still to be friends. The only thing we have left is a mutual respect for each other’s abilities. It’s enough.
He’s briefed me on the case but, unfortunately, he has nothing useful that I don’t already know. Part of me is appalled at how little their investigation has progressed; maybe it’s squeezed budgets or maybe he’s not telling me everything. Either way it reinforces my pledge to find her.
“Coming up to five days and no ransom demand…” Steve sighs. “I’ve got to believe the worst.”
“Are you sure the father hasn’t had a call?” Steve’s ears prick up at that. “When I went to see him I asked him about it and although he said he hadn’t, there was something in his reaction that didn’t ring true.”
“So you think he’s going to go it alone?”
“Maybe. When I asked him whether he’d call you guys if he got a ransom demand he said no.”
“Son of a…” Steve’s face clouds over. Parents’ clandestine attempts to buy back their children are the bane of the cops trying to solve their cases.
“Good news is, if he does get any demands, maybe he’s going to call me and, believe me Steve, if he does, I’m going to call you.”
“Thanks, Cal. Man, I hope it is kidnapping for money but y’know what? I’m betting this is going to become a murder investigation.” He sighs. “You got anything else?”
“Apparently you missed one of her friends in your interviews. I’m going to talk to her after I leave here.”
“What’s her name?” he asks.
“Ashleigh Jakes.”
Steve taps some keys on his keyboard. “Hmmm. You’re right, we missed her.” He doesn’t seem too concerned. “Let me know if she’s got anything new.”
Before I came here, I decided not to tell Steve about Ariel being on Canada’s Littlest Beauty. I want to check that out myself first. Maybe it’s petty but I want to show him that I’m the better cop. Then again, maybe he already knows.
I get up. “Thanks for giving me the update, Steve. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Yeah, Cal. See you.”
I head for the door, glad to know I’ll soon be out of this building.
“Oh, hey, Cal. I almost forgot. We’re charging Guy Chang with attempted murder, parole violation and a bunch of weapons charges. The Crown Prosecution office is going to call you. They want you to give evidence at the trial.”
A big smile cracks my face. I will be happy to send Goliath to prison for a second, much longer term. “Sure, Steve. No problem.”
I turn to go a second time and then I remember something. Maybe Steve does know more than he’s telling me. I’ll ask. “Hey Steve, I almost forgot. Did the patrol officer at St. Cecelia’s have anything useful?”
“What patrol officer?”
“Apparently there’s one assigned there.”
“At St. Cecelia’s? Are you sure?”
I can feel an icy finger on my spine. “Yes. Ellie talked to her.”
He picks up the phone and dials. As he takes in the answer to his question, his face says it all.
The icy finger becomes a knife.
11
Ariel
I’m worried about Mommy and Daddy. The police lady said they were in a car crash but she won’t let me go and see them in the hospital. This house is nice and everything but I’ve been here for days and days and now I can’t stop crying. I miss them so much.
I don’t think I’m ever going to see them again.
She told me I’ve got to be brave but she’s left me alone.
Anyway, I’m glad she’s gone. I liked her at first but when we got here and she took off her police uniform she wasn’t so nice and she took all my stuff. I can’t even text Justin.
The garden is huge, even huger than Grandpa’s. I can see it through the window and she said if I’m good I’ll be allowed out there. I saw the helicopter land a little while ago, just before she left. Maybe it’s going to take me back to see Mommy and Daddy.
I hope so. I hope so. I hope so.
I’m starting to feel hungry again. I wonder when the nice old lady will be here with lunch. The food here is really good. Not like that diet stuff Mommy always makes me eat. The lady who brings it doesn’t speak English but she’s very nice to me, except she makes me wear a big huge bib, like a baby. It’s to protect my costumes I suppose.
The police lady must be a bit stupid. The clothes she got for me are all just like costumes from the show, not regular clothes. I’m wearing my favourite one right now, the red sequined swimsuit with the white tights. I love costumes but I don’t want to wear them all the time.
There’s the sound of the key in the door. Goody. Lunchtime.
It’s not the nice lady.
It’s a man. He’s tall like Daddy. I’ve seen him before. Oh yes, I remember him. He’s nice. And there’s another man with him but he doesn’t look nice.
The nice one takes two steps into the room, looks at me and smiles. “Hello Ariel. Don’t you look pretty?” he says.
“Are you going to take me to the hospital to see Mommy and Daddy?” Please, please, please say yes.
“Twirl around,” he says. Why didn’t he answer my question?
“Are you—” Something in his face makes me stop asking.
He smiles and makes a twirling motion with his finger. I don’t like the way he’s looking at me. He’s smiling but it scares me. I thought he was nice.
I twirl around.
He takes two more steps into the room. I can smell him. It’s like the aftershave Daddy wears. “Do it again… Like on the show,” he says.
I don’t have my ballet shoes and it’s carpet anyway but I do as good a pirouette as I can.
“Good,” he says. “Now do a curtsey.”
I cross my left foot over my right and bob down.
“Hold it right there,” he says and I freeze in position.
I don’t like where he’s looking at me. He takes a step closer. He reaches out and his fingers are trembling.
It’s just a gentle pat on the shoulder but then he leaves his hand there. I want to squirm away but I’m afraid it will make him angry.
“Very good,” he smiles and squeezes.
He lets go of my shoulder and his hand moves toward my face.
“Not yet,” the bad-looking one says. His voice is funny. I don’t like it. “When you have done your part of the bargain,” he says.
The one I used to think was nice steps back. I can hear his breathing.
Then he turns and leaves. “Very good,” I hear as the door clicks shut behind them.
I don’t stop crying until I hear the helicopter taking him away.
I want Mommy and Daddy so much.
12
Cal
The patrol guys got here before me. In fact they gave me a hard time and wouldn’t let me in until Steve arrived and gave them the OK.
Steve has got a whole team at the school questioning them about the phony policewoman who talked to some of the girls on the Friday Ariel went missing.
Steve and I are about to interview Ashleigh, the girl Ellie says is Ariel’s friend but who was not
interviewed by the police. Steve didn’t really want me involved but I sold him on my being there due to the fact that Ashleigh is Ellie’s friend and I have already met her so it may make it easier for her to open up to me. I omitted telling Steve I don’t actually remember meeting her. I’ve got a good feeling that I’m going to get something good from this interview.
We are in one of the school’s music rooms. Sitting with us is one of Ashleigh’s teachers who is also a school counsellor; she is an older woman with a saccharine smile and an eagle eye.
Ashleigh is not the typical St. Cecelia’s kid. Despite the school uniform, she has an edgy look to her. Her hair is cut in an uneven punk style and she has the look of an eight- year-old rebel. My recollection of her is vague.
As pre-agreed with Steve, I lead the questioning.
“So Ashleigh, as you know I’m Ellie’s dad and I’m helping the police find Ariel. Would it be OK if we asked you a few questions?”
“I guess.” No smile but not actively hostile.
“There was a woman here last Friday, dressed as a police officer. Did you speak to her?”
“She wasn’t really a policewoman?” She’s a sharp kid but there is a note of fear in her voice. The counsellor reaches out and strokes her shoulder. I hope that she doesn’t get involved in the interview.
“No, she wasn’t. Did she say anything to you?”
“Kinda. A few of us were standing around and she came and talked to us.”
“What about?” Steve asks.
She glances at him but turns back and speaks to me. “Just about whether we liked the school and what we did for fun, who our friends were. Stuff like that.” The look on her face is almost guilty.
“Did she mention Ariel?”
“No.” The word is drawn out a bit.
“When she asked you who your friends were, did you mention Ariel?” I ask, keeping my voice casual.
Cal Rogan Mysteries, Books 1, 2 & 3 (Box Set) Page 68
