Cold Mourning

by Brenda Chapman

  “Why do say that? Susan admitted that she forgot to check the gas before leaving home.”

  “Susan is one of the more competent women I know and it’s out of character. She’s had to be on her toes, married to Clinton.”

  “You don’t sound like you think much of him.”

  “Because I don’t. Susan’s changed the last few years. She’s less sure of herself and always rushing home for his phone calls. He keeps tabs on her like he owns her. She’s become scared of making him mad. I’ve seen it. We’ve all seen it.”

  “So what are you suggesting?” Kala waited while the waitress set down their drinks. She stirred cream into her coffee while Hunter took a sip of beer. He set his glass on the coaster and rubbed his fingers up and down its side.

  “I think someone did this to Susan. My first thought was Clinton. It makes me wonder if he killed my father too.”

  “Do you have any proof?”

  “No, but if it’s him, I’ll find the proof.”

  “You have to leave that to us.”

  “Yeah.” He grimaced before taking a long drink from his glass.

  She waited until he was looking at her again. “Did you know that your father was leaving you a million dollars?”

  Hunter laughed. “Is that what he did? First I’ve heard.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. He needn’t have bothered.”

  “I think he was trying to tell you that he was sorry.”

  “He told me that the last day I saw him. It was enough. You look like you want to say something.”

  Kala shrugged. “It’s just that you seem so bitter after all these years. Ten years is a long time to stay angry.”

  “Not angry so much as indifferent. I got over being mad that he married Laurel. It wasn’t even about her in the end. The thing that’s kept me from welcoming my father back into my life, if you really want to know, was the knowledge that he totalled my world without an ounce of remorse. I’m not a parent, but I would never want to make my own happiness at the expense of my child’s. I’m sure your parents wouldn’t have done that either.”

  “I never knew my parents.”

  His eyes filled with a compassion that surprised her. He began to apologize but she held up a hand and cut him off.

  “I’m sorry. That just came out. You couldn’t have known,” she said. “Besides, my life has nothing to do with you.”

  “I deserved to be put in my place. I was the one who made an assumption.”

  Their lunch arrived at that moment and they stopped talking, sitting awkwardly while the waitress set down their plates.

  “I’ll have to get back to the station so I have to eat quickly,” she said as soon as the girl left, “so I apologize in advance. Another officer is covering for me, but it means we may have to work late.” She bit into her sandwich and hoped that he took the hint. She wasn’t going to talk about herself and didn’t want him asking.

  He paused. “I know this isn’t on at the moment,” he said finally, “but maybe when this is over, you might like to go out for dinner or something. I’d like to have a chance to talk under less constrained circumstances.”

  “I’m not sure that would be a good idea.”

  “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

  The disappointed expression on his face made her smile. “I didn’t say we couldn’t keep the possibility open, but I think you might feel differently about socializing with me when this wraps up. Murder investigations have a funny way of changing how people see each other. You might not be too fond of me when all is said and done.”

  Especially if you had a hand in killing your father.

  He lifted his head and smiled back at her. “Fair enough. You haven’t shut and locked the door, and that’s about all I can ask.”

  Her phone rang as they were paying the bill. She listened with her eyes on Hunter. She shut off the phone and said, “Your sister Geraldine has gone into labour. She’s at the General. Your mother’s been trying to track you down.”

  “God, she’s three weeks early. Did they say how she is?”

  “No, but that’s probably because she’s okay. You go and I’ll settle up here.”

  “Thanks.” He jumped up and grabbed his jacket from the hook. “I don’t know whether to be excited or worried for her.”

  “Would you call me to let me know how it goes?”

  He stopped and looked down at her. “I’ll call the station. Hopefully, for Geraldine’s sake, this isn’t going to be an all-nighter. We could sure use some good news to end this miserable year. Keep your fingers crossed.”

  Kala arrived at the office twenty minutes later. She plunked down across from Bennett and looked toward Rouleau’s office. Grayson and Malik were standing just inside the doorway and she could see Vermette sitting across from Rouleau.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “We found some documents on Underwood’s hard drive in a subfolder entitled ‘exit strategy.’ He was going to make big changes in his life, beginning with pulling out of the business. The morning he disappeared was the morning he planned to tell J.P. He typed it up in his master plan. Remember Gage found the email from Underwood to J.P. asking for a meeting? Well, J.P. denied they had anything set up for that morning when he was interviewed earlier this week. Underwood’s file combined with the email say otherwise. It’s as if Underwood’s pointing a big finger at J.P. from the grave. Grayson and Malik are about to bring him in for questioning again. The team is in there, planning the interview strategy.”

  She turned and looked again into Rouleau’s office. “How come Vermette’s part of the posse?”

  “Grayson met him in the hall and told him what we found on the computer.”

  She turned back to Bennett. “Rouleau looks like a thunder cloud.”

  “It’s because Grayson jumped the gun telling Vermette. Puts Rouleau in a bad place. How’d your appointment go by the way?”

  “Fine.”

  She turned on her computer and leaned on the desk with her chin cupped in her hand while she waited for it to boot up. J.P. had motive and opportunity. He’d been caught in a lie that would have him with Underwood around the time he was killed. It all fit. What didn’t fit was the possible attempt on Susan Halliday’s life. If but for the park ranger, Susan would likely be dead. Why would J.P. go to all that trouble to harm a woman who wasn’t connected to his business if this was about greed? Were Underwood’s murder and Susan’s emptied gas tank even linked?

  “Looks like we might have New Year’s off when they wrap this up,” Bennett said. “You got any plans for New Year’s Eve?”

  “Yeah.” She looked closely at him. He was busy with some papers on his desk and avoiding her eyes. That’s all she needed. Some young, earnest cop getting ideas about her. What the hell was up with Ottawa men anyhow? “If you can finish going through this stuff, I’ll go watch them interview J.P. through the two-way glass,” she said.

  “Leave me to the slogging bits while you go have all the fun.”

  “Well, find something juicy about one of our suspects and we can hold our own interview.”

  “You don’t think J.P. is our man?”

  “Let’s just say my mind is still open to other possibilities.”

  “Don’t let Grayson or Vermette hear you say that. They’ve already ordered the party streamers.”

  “They really like to set themselves up,” said Kala.

  “How do you mean?”

  She sighed. “Just seems to me like they’re too eager to go with one theory.”

  For the first time, Bennett looked uncomfortable. It was as if he remembered that she was the outsider and he was part of the old boys’ club meeting in Rouleau’s office.

  “They’re working with the facts. It seems logical to me that they’d want to question Underwood’s partner, especially since he lied about the meeting.”

  Kala smiled. “I agree that he’s up there on the list of suspects. It’s just good to re
member that we have other people who could have murdered Underwood.”

  Bennett nodded before turning back to the paperwork, but she could tell he wasn’t convinced. She hesitated. She’d been running the idea of inviting him to her next stakeout on Richmond Road around in her mind, but now it didn’t seem like a good idea. He was likely to go running to Rouleau with the news. Besides, she preferred working alone.

  25

  Thursday, December 29, 5:30 p.m.

  Geraldine held her new baby girl and smiled up at her mother and Hunter. The newborn had a shock of Max’s black hair and an elfin red face that resembled an old man’s. To Geraldine, she was the most beautiful baby in the world. Only three hours of labour and out she’d popped like a jack in the box. Geraldine had fully expected to be one of those women in labour for forty-eight hours and the quick release of pain was euphoric. The surge of love she felt for this tiny being was unexpected.

  “If I’d known it would be this easy, I’d have gotten knocked up in high school,” she’d joked to Hunter when he entered her room ahead of their mother.

  “Can I hold her?” asked Pauline, dropping her purse and coat on the nearest chair.

  “Of course.” Geraldine handed over the bundle. She immediately missed the weight of the baby in her arms.

  “She’s just beautiful. Have you picked a name?”

  “I was thinking Amy Rose. Max said I could pick if it was a girl.”

  “Amy Rose,” said Pauline as she kissed the tiny forehead. She rocked the baby as she walked toward the window.

  Hunter grabbed Geraldine’s hand and smiled. “Can I get you anything?”

  “No, but I’m wondering where Max has gotten to. He left for that coffee half an hour ago.”

  “I could go look if you like.”

  “Would you?”

  “Sure.”

  She watched him go and then looked over at her mom. “Have you been to visit Susan?”

  “I plan to later. I haven’t had time with you in labour.”

  “I know you must be worried sick about her, so go now if you like. I’ll be okay.”

  “Hunter checked and she’s fine. Frostbite on her toes and fingers but nothing too serious. The rest is doing her good. She’ll be home tomorrow.”

  “What a relief. Are you going to look after her with Clinton away?”

  “You haven’t heard? No, I suppose not. He’s been back since yesterday and will stay home until after New Year’s. Apparently, he was en route to Ottawa from Trenton even before Susan’s accident.”

  “That’s odd. Susan said he’d be gone until New Year’s Eve, and that’s a few days away.”

  “I know. He’s usually a slave to his routine. I don’t know how Susan puts up with it, but I suppose she works around him when he isn’t here. To be honest, I don’t feel like running into him.”

  “Are you okay, Mom? You seem upset about something.” Perhaps this wasn’t the time to ask, but there never was a good time with her mother who could flit around deep conversation like a butterfly.

  “I’m fine. I just wish your father could have been here to see his first grandchild.” She crossed to the bed and handed the baby back to Geraldine. “It just all makes me so angry … and sad.”

  “It’s good to talk about this, Mom. You need to let out how you’re feeling.”

  “And Susan. It’s as if she was asking for something bad to happen, all alone out there in the woods like that.”

  “She was lucky the park ranger found her when he did.”

  “The pair of them were foolish and we’re left to pick up the pieces.” Pauline grabbed her coat and purse from the chair in a jerky movement. “I’m going to meet a friend for a late supper. I’ll be back first thing tomorrow to take you home.”

  “I’ll be ready.” Guilt flooded through her. Their mother was truly suffering from their dad’s death and Geraldine had been too immersed in her own pain to give support. “We can spend all day together after I check out.”

  “I’ll make lunch and will help with the baby while you sleep,” said Pauline, smiling.

  Hunter stepped into the room as Pauline reached the door. “Where’s Max?” she asked, slipping an arm into her coat sleeve.

  “He had to go check on something at work,” said Hunter, glancing past her. “He said he’d call you later, Ger.”

  Geraldine saw the look that passed between her mother and brother and humiliation made her drop her face into the soft down on top of the baby’s head. Their pity was worse than anything Max could do to her. God, what she’d give for a stiff Scotch. Hold the ice. Hold the soda. “Well, I told him that I’d like to sleep so I guess that’s why he decided to go back to work. If the two of you don’t mind, I’m going to rest now that the baby’s asleep.”

  “We’ll see you later, then,” said Hunter. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  She couldn’t raise her head to look at him. Her neck felt as heavy as a tree bough weighted with snow. “I just want to sleep.”

  She waited for the door to snap closed before she opened her eyes. The baby was blurry and she blinked to clear her vision. “If you’d held off a bit, Amy Rose, you could have been the first born in the new year and made the paper. You could have started your life famous and made your daddy proud. You might have made him stick around if you’d made the six o’clock news.”

  She tried to erase from her mind the disappointment in Max’s eyes when they’d told him he had a daughter; the split second of dislike in his expression when the nurse placed Amy Rose in his arms. She’d watched the mask slip deftly back into place, but knew she hadn’t imagined his reaction. The truth had caught like a fist in her stomach.

  Her husband had no use for a daughter — or for her.

  This was the meaning she’d seen in his eyes and chosen not to believe for so long. She’d been nothing more than a stepping stone for his ambition. Her mother had warned her before the wedding, but she’d stubbornly clung to the belief that he loved her. She’d put her mother’s cynicism down to bitterness and jealousy. The question now was just how far she was prepared to go along with his lie. Could she live with knowing her marriage was a sham?

  “What should I do, Daddy?” she whispered into the softness of her baby’s hair. She ran her fingers across the rosy cheek and kissed her smooth forehead. She reached for the buzzer to bring the nurse. She’d have them keep the baby for the night in the nursery and get some sleep. She was glad now that she’d decided not to breastfeed. It was one thing not to have a drink when she was pregnant but if she had to refrain from alcohol for a year or more of breastfeeding, they may as well book her a room now in the loony bin.

  Susan let the day slip away, grateful that Clinton left after lunch to work from home for a few hours. The doctor was due in mid-afternoon for a final check before releasing her. He’d poked and prodded and then prescribed pain killers to get her through the week. Her hands and feet throbbed when the pills began to wear off, but she’d been assured this was a good thing. It just didn’t feel like a good thing.

  She turned toward the door as it slowly opened. A momentary surge of fear disappeared at the sight of her goddaughter Geraldine in her hospital gown. “Come give me a hug,” she called. “What a surprise to see you up so soon. Is the baby with you?”

  “No, she’s sleeping, but I had to come see you. I’m here the night and home in the morning. How are you? What an awful scare you gave us.”

  Geraldine crossed to the bed and reached down to hug Susan. They released and Susan studied Geraldine’s wan face and darting gaze that seemed so out of keeping for a new mom. Anger rose up from her stomach. What was that self-serving prick Max up to now?

  Geraldine grimaced. “Your poor hands.”

  Susan shook off a sense of foreboding and laughed. “They’ll soon be right as rain. I was so foolish to go into the Gatineau Hills alone. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “We all do things without thinking them through now and then.” Geraldi
ne lowered herself into the chair and straightened her hospital gown.

  “I seem to be doing that more and more. But tell me, how is the baby?”

  “She … Amy Rose, is wonderful. Perfect. Labour was easy, only three hours. I just wish my father could be here to see her.”

  “He’d be so proud and I know he’s somewhere up there smiling down on you both.”

  “I hope.” Geraldine took Susan’s bandaged hand in hers. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

  “No, it’s just that so much has gone on this week. I’m not feeling like myself.” Susan dabbed at her eyes with the end of the sheet. She hated to cry in front of Tom’s daughter. It should be the other way around, her offering comfort.

  “I wanted to ask your advice on something, but now isn’t the time. Maybe I could come visit you when we’re both home,” said Geraldine.

  “I’d like that. I’m sorry that I’m so weepy these days. I really don’t know what’s come over me.”

  “Well, we have one thing to be thankful for. Laurel isn’t having a service for Dad. He asked in his will to be cremated and no funeral. She’s decided to respect his wishes. I think that considering the state of our family, it’ll be for the best if we aren’t all in the same room.”

  “It might have been nice if his death brought everyone together.”

  “Nice, but a reach. It will take more than Dad’s death to get Mom and Laurel to be civil with each other.”

  After Geraldine returned to her room, Susan got out of bed and began slowly packing her few things into the overnight bag Clinton had brought earlier. Her bandaged hands made movement awkward, but not impossible. Clinton had been solicitous and hovered around her as if he had nowhere else to be. She’d finally sent him home to get some work done and to give her room to think.

  Should she believe his story about being in transit when she was stranded in the Quebec woods? Why hadn’t he called to say that he was coming home? He’d never been one for surprises or deviations from a schedule. Why was he being so damn nice all of a sudden?