Cold Mourning

by Brenda Chapman

  Stonechild looked back through her notepad. “We met Pauline’s friend Susan Halliday outside her house. They were going for a walk.”

  He added Susan’s name to the board. “She might have some information about Tom, depending how long she’s been friends with Pauline. Worth checking out. We can’t rule out that this is a random killing, but I’d say the fact he was drugged means either he knew his killer or some person followed him and drugged his coffee in a restaurant or coffee shop. The bad news is we have no viable motive and no suspects.”

  “We might need to spin that,” said Grayson. “Otherwise, Vermette won’t be enjoying his Christmas turkey.”

  “Why should we be the only ones suffering?” asked Malik.

  “Let me worry about Vermette,” said Rouleau. “I’m going to send a few officers to check coffee shops in the area. Stonechild, could you take Gage and Bennett and begin the door to door in Underwood’s neighbourhood? Start with his home and see if Laurel has turned up yet. Malik and Grayson, head back to his office and have a read through his files. Belliveau is going to be there at ten and you can interview him again. I’m going to be doing some media interviews to keep the press from coming up with gossip to fill in the blanks. Any questions?”

  “Should I interview Susan Halliday if I have time?” asked Kala.

  “Sure.” Rouleau spoke to the team. “But it’s Christmas Eve so I want each of you to quit by five and take tomorrow off. If I have to call you in, I’ll need you to be in the vicinity, but likely that won’t be necessary. Plan a full work day on Boxing Day.”

  They all stood. He motioned to Stonechild. “Can I see you a minute?”

  She waited while the others spoke to Rouleau on their way back to their desks. He finished talking to Grayson and finally turned to her.

  “I know this is a tough time of year to move towns, and now this case. I was thinking if you want a place to stay until you find an apartment, I have a big house with a spare room. It’ll save you some money and give you a chance to find somewhere permanent.”He saw surprise on her face and then hesitation as if she wasn’t used to offers so freely given. She looked at him for a moment, weighing his offer. She appeared on the brink of accepting when the openness in her eyes disappeared. “I’m okay where I am.” She softened her words with a quick smile.

  “Well, if you change your mind, here’s my address and phone number. I’m in Kingston tomorrow for lunch but back by suppertime. You’re welcome to come by any time if you change your mind.”

  She took the card and shoved it into her pocket. “Thank you, Sir.”

  “It’s the least I can do. We’ve given you no time to get settled.” He sensed that any more discussion on his offer would make her withdraw even further. “That was all,” he said. “Check in later.”

  She made no move to leave. “Any word yet on Whelan’s baby?” she asked.

  “Nothing yet. The next few days are critical though.”

  “I hope it works out for them.”

  “I’ll pass along your best wishes when I speak to him later this morning.”

  “Thanks.”

  He watched her join the others and then walked to his office. He’d done what he could to ease the guilt he felt for bringing her into this unit at Christmas time. It would be no big surprise if she headed home early in the new year. He could tell by the expression in her eyes that she’d already figured out the state of things. If he were in her position, he wouldn’t be long leaving Ottawa either.

  Kala shivered inside her leather jacket and leaned on the bell for a second time. She’d seen a curtain move inside the living-room window and wasn’t going to leave until somebody answered the door. It took another three minutes but patience won out. The bald man in a tweed jacket and red ascot who slowly opened the door had rheumy eyes and no memory of who lived next door. She thanked him for his time and snapped her notebook shut as she strode over to Gage and Bennett on the sidewalk. Two hours of door-to-door and she’d come up with exactly nothing. It made her want to throw something.

  The tips of Bennett’s ears were cherry red and his moustache sparkled with white frost. “These people haven’t got a clue who their neighbours are. God save us from people with money.”

  Kala shook her head. “One guy said if he wanted to know who lived next door, he’d move into a slum where they share diseases.”

  “The Christmas spirit kinda touches you right here, don’t it?” said Gage, tapping his chest. “Wonder what it feels like to be this rich and able to tell everyone to take a piss.”

  “Damn satisfying, I imagine. There was one bit of information,” said Bennet. He lowered his head to read from his notes. “Woman decked out in a gold lamé jumpsuit who lives across the street said she woke early the morning Underwood disappeared and is certain she saw him scraping ice off his windshield. Says it was around six thirty.”

  “I would have been black as pitch at that hour,” said Kala. “How did she know it was him? Do you think she’s reliable?”

  “I’d say so. She got a look when he got into the car because the overhead light went on. Says it was definitely him.”

  “Did she see Laurel’s car in the driveway?”

  “No, just his. She said he was alone and drove off a few seconds later. Then she went for a shower and didn’t see anything else.”

  “Well that’s something at least. Establishes he left of his own accord. It would help to know where he was going so early in the morning since he never showed up at the office,” said Kala.

  “Did you check his phone messages and incoming calls?” asked Bennett.

  Kala nodded. “He didn’t have any incoming calls that morning on his cell or home phone. His daughter Geraldine called the night before the party, but nobody else.” She began to shiver. “It’s just past lunchtime and too cold to stand around here any longer, so why don’t you both get home to your families and start enjoying the holiday? I’ll go talk to the ex-wife’s friend Susan Halliday on my way back to the station to file the report.”

  “You sure?” said Gage. “We can file if you like.”

  “It’s okay,” said Kala. “I’ve got nothing but time.”

  “Well, happy holidays,” said Gage. “I expect I’ll be getting a call to come back into the station just as I’m sitting down to a turkey dinner tomorrow.”

  “Criminals enjoy working through dinner hour,” said Bennett.

  “That’d change if they had to deal with my wife’s anger when I get called into work. I haven’t had one uninterrupted Christmas meal in five years.”

  Kala smiled. “Well, maybe this’ll be your lucky year.”

  “Bloody unlikely, but thanks for holding out hope.”

  They separated and she got into the car she’d been assigned for the day. She jiggled the key in the ignition and turned the heater up high. She looked across the street to the Underwood front entrance. Still no sign of Underwood’s wife and the little girl. For a woman who’d been so desperate to find her husband, their disappearance was odd. Worrisome, even.

  She looked down the empty street toward the river. This would be a perfect morning to bundle up in her parka and Kodiaks and head for a tromp in the bush with Taiku. Last Christmas Eve they’d gone to the beach and walked its length while the sun rose above the churning waters of Lake Superior. Chunks of ice had been scattered like sculpture along the shoreline. She’d brought along her camera and taken pictures. One she’d even framed and put up in the office of her cabin. She closed her eyes and for a few seconds imagined herself there. The wind off the lake, miles of evergreens, and wild, haunting stillness. The smell of biting, cold air untouched by city traffic and the softness of Taiku’s fur against her cheek as she squatted next to him to watch the sun’s orange and pink fingers across the horizon.

  Her lips parted in the beginnings of a smile. Three deep breaths and the tension left her shoulders and neck. When she opened her eyes again, the loneliness had lessened, tucked back into the well she carr
ied deep inside. Her eyes surveyed the over-sized houses one last time as she set the car into drive and slowly pulled away from the curb.

  13

  Saturday, December 24, 3:30 p.m.

  The man who led Kala inside the two-storey detached house on Eisenhower Crescent in Chapman Mills was not the husband Kala would have picked for Susan Halliday. He was younger, for one thing, and definitely military. Susan had struck her as artsy and bohemian. A quick inventory of his physical appearance included hair so sharp a person would cut their hand if they grazed a palm across the bristles, square shoulders, and a wide stance. He was Mr. Poster Boy for the armed forces. She’d felt like saluting when he opened the door.

  She paused inside the doorway to the living room and looked around. French doors led into a room dominated by windows on the north wall and a ceiling-high stone fireplace on the wall facing her. A white leather couch and three mismatched chairs encircled a glass coffee table. A faded Oriental area rug lay in front of the couch with brass floor lamps flanking either side. It was a functional room, empty of clutter. It was a precisely ordered room.

  Susan and Clinton lived in the same new subdivision as Pauline Underwood but several streets over in a slightly older home closer to a river. The houses on this street were spaced farther apart than those on Haileybury and had altogether a nicer feel.

  “Susan will be down momentarily,” Clinton said, directing her to the farthest chair near the windows. “Can I get you coffee, tea, or something stronger?”

  “No, I’m fine thanks, but perhaps I could ask you a few questions while we wait for your wife.”

  “Certainly madam.” He took a seat on the couch opposite her, his back rigid, arms folded across his chest.

  Kala looked at him more closely. He couldn’t be more than fifty with what she could see of his hair in the brown buzz cut. She guessed late-forties. Susan had to be the other side of fifty-five. His blue eyes held no softness. Muscular arms bulged out of the sleeves of his T-shirt that stretched tightly over his flat stomach. The guy was a weapon dressed up in a man’s body. She shifted uncomfortably in what was surely the hardest chair in the room as his hard eyes flicked across her with just a trace of contempt. He’d picked this seat for her on purpose.

  She took out her notepad and flipped to a clean page. “How well did you know Tom Underwood and his family?” She raised her eyes to meet his stare square on.

  “I knew Tom through functions at his ex-wife’s home. Susan and Pauline have been friends since high school. They both grew up in the west end of Ottawa. Bayshore, to be exact.”

  He’d managed to convey his distaste for her upbringing in the one word. Kala would ask around about Bayshore when she got back to the station.

  “Do you know where Tom Underwood grew up?”

  “He grew up in that neighbourhood. He and Pauline dated and married young.”

  “So they were childhood sweethearts.”

  “From what I understand.”

  “Did Tom visit Pauline often after they divorced?”

  “I wouldn’t know. I only met him at social functions, which usually involved their daughter Geraldine. Birthdays and the like. Susan would know more since she and Pauline are close as sisters.” He looked toward the doorway. “I’m sorry my wife is taking so long. She hasn’t been well this week. Some sort of flu that I’ve so far escaped.”

  “And where did you grow up?”

  “Does that have any bearing?”

  “Maybe not. I’m just gathering background information.”

  “Rockcliffe. My family was part owner of two pulp mills in the Gatineau. I went into the air force and have achieved the rank of major.”

  Kala jotted the details onto her notepad. She might not have heard of Bayshore but she had heard of Rockcliffe. It was the rich end of town where the prime minister and Governor General lived.

  They both turned as Susan walked into the room. Kala blinked. It was hard to believe this was the same rosy cheeked woman she’d seen only a few days before. Now, her skin was the colour of oatmeal and her eyes pools of exhaustion. She moved stiffly as if every bone in her body ached. When she stepped across the threshold, her eyes sought her husband’s, before she looked toward Kala.

  “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. It took me a while to get dressed. Clinton?” She crossed the carpet toward her husband. “Did you offer our guest some coffee?”

  “Of course. Sit here, Susan,” he commanded as he stood to give her his seat. He remained standing at attention next to her.

  Kala would have preferred to speak to Susan in private, but she could see he had no intention of leaving them alone, and she didn’t have a good reason to ask him to leave. “I’m sorry you’ve been unwell. This shouldn’t take long. I need to know where you both were last Thursday evening and Friday. This is just a routine question,” she hastily added after Susan’s face paled even more.

  The major answered for both of them. “Susan was home and I was overnight in Trenton. Air force business. I got back mid-morning on the Friday.”

  “Did you meet anyone during that time, Susan?” Kala asked.

  “No, I spent the night at home alone and did some Christmas baking in the morning before Clinton came home. I wanted to finish the shortbreads for a cookie exchange in the afternoon.”

  “What can you tell me about Pauline’s relationship with her ex-husband?”

  “With Tom?” Susan looked up at Clinton. “I’d say they were friendly but not true friends since their divorce. They knew each other a very long time. In fact, the three of us went to high school together. Pauline and I roomed together in university.”

  “Did Pauline forgive Tom for leaving the marriage?”

  “I suppose. Pauline knew Tom wasn’t happy with Laurel. I think she felt vindicated. Tom spent more time with Pauline this past year or so. I’d say their relationship had softened.”

  “Is there anything you can tell me about his relationship with his children?” Kala asked.

  “Well, Geraldine and Tom were very close. She adored him and he couldn’t say no to her. She was always awkward and self-conscious but Tom didn’t see any of that. He was proud of her. He couldn’t see how much pain she was in. The truth of it was that Geraldine had trouble making friends and was depressed all through her teen years.” Susan’s voice broke and she struggled to control her emotions. After a moment, she said, “I’m sorry. It’s just been a shock. Tom and Hunter weren’t close but it seems like they were starting to reconnect. We were hopeful, and now he’s dead.” Her voice trailed away.

  “I know this is difficult,” said Kala gently. “It might help if you could tell me why Tom and Hunter were at odds.”

  The major interrupted, “Again I must ask, is this of any value? A disagreement from so many years ago surely has no bearing on this case.”

  “I won’t know that until all the facts are in,” replied Kala. “The more I know, the better I can piece together what led to Mr. Underwood’s death.”

  “I hate talking about them,” said Susan with sudden vehemence. “It just feels like gossiping about something that happened a long time ago. I can’t think that it will help find who killed Tom.”

  Clinton shifted his stance. “For Christ’s sake, Susan, tell her. She’s going to find out from someone.”

  Susan turned sideways to look at her husband before she glanced at Kala. Her eyes focused on a point above Kala’s head. “You see, Hunter brought Laurel home from university to meet his family and Tom … well, he slept with her. The dirty little secret is that Tom left his wife for their son’s fiancée.”

  “The man had no sense of duty to his family. Some might say, his past trespasses came back and killed him. It was retribution,” Clinton said.

  “Really, Clinton, I don’t think now is the time to start judging. What Tom did was a long time ago and everybody paid. Even Laurel.”

  A deep red suffused upward from his collar. “Why would you say Laurel paid? She married more
money than she could ever spend and secured her fortune by giving birth to that kid Charlotte.”

  “Laurel was weak. She chose money over happiness with Hunter. In the end, her decision left everyone miserable. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m still not well from the flu and really have to lie down. I should never have gotten out of bed.”

  “Of course,” said Kala, standing at the same time as Susan. “I’m sorry to have come at such a bad time. If I have more questions, I’ll phone or come by when you’re feeling better.” She dropped a card with her office phone number on the table, nodded in the major’s direction before following Susan from the room.

  Kala bent down to lace up her boots and watched Susan disappear up the stairwell, a feeling of excitement in the pit of her stomach. Susan’s bombshell explained a lot about the tensions running through the Underwood family. It told a lot about Tom Underwood’s character and the reason somebody might want him dead.

  Susan Halliday woke from a dreamless sleep to a darkened bedroom. For a moment she couldn’t remember where she was, but the confusion was fleeting. Lately, she was becoming more and more unsure of her surroundings upon wakening, often believing herself to be a young girl again in her parents’ home. Once, she even thought her brother Roddy was sitting in the chair waiting for her, but it had been many years since they lived in the same house. She wondered if the confusion in her mind was a sign of things to come. Alzheimer’s ran in her family and odds were not in her favour. So far she’d avoided speaking with her doctor about her vague symptoms. She was waiting for something more concrete before sharing her fears.