“I just said that I don’t know Benny Goldstone. I can’t pretend to know who he’s sleeping with.”
“But you must have figured out that he and Max are more than just colleagues.”
“I wasn’t certain, but I had a feeling.”
“And Tom Underwood. How long had it been going on?”
Her eyes flickered like candles. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“I think you do.”
Susan stood abruptly and walked toward the window. She cradled her arms across her chest. Kala waited. It was almost a minute before Susan spoke without turning.
“I loved Tom from the moment I laid eyes on him. We were made for each other, but Pauline got to him first. Laurel was an infatuation. Neither was his soul mate.” She walked back to the couch and looked down at Kala. “We were lovers, yes. It began six months ago when Clinton was at the base. We had plans to move away together. Tom was going to get a divorce … or not. It didn’t matter to either of us. I was going to separate from Clinton in the new year, and no, Clinton didn’t know. As you may also have guessed, he is controlling. We worried about his reaction.”
“I’m not here to judge you, Mrs. Halliday. I’m only seeking the truth. How can you be sure that Clinton didn’t know?”
“I don’t know how he could have. He was always away and we were extremely discreet. I told nobody and neither did Tom.”
“But you’ve wondered.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “The car running out of gas. Clinton said he was driving home from Trenton when it happened, but I just couldn’t be sure.”
“I’ve asked before. Has your husband ever been violent? Do you have reason to fear what he might do to you if he found out?”
“He likes to control. I suppose you might call it violence. I really don’t know what he’s capable of doing. Why would he hurt Benny though? Me and Tom yes, but why Benny? It makes no sense.”
“No reason that we know of … yet. I have the same question if the murders are work-related. Why were you also targeted? I have no doubt you could have died out there alone in the woods with night coming on.”
Susan shuddered. “There’s a part of me that wishes it had happened.”
Kala stood. “Is there someone you could stay with until this is over?”
“We’re out tonight at a dance at the Hunt Club and then Clinton is returning to the base in Trenton by lunchtime. I’ll be fine.”
“You still have my cellphone number. Call me any time, day or night. You can also call 911 if you feel threatened. Keep your phone with you at all times. If you find any evidence that Clinton was involved, don’t confront him. Call me and we’ll handle it. Unfortunately, we haven’t any concrete evidence on which to bring him in for questioning, but I’ll be pursuing this new line of enquiry.”
Susan laughed. “I’m not as convinced that I’m a target as you seem to be. I promise to be careful though. I’ll even key your phone number into my phone.” Fear froze her features. “You can’t let Clinton know about me and Tom. He probably doesn’t know. Promise you won’t say anything.”
“The last thing I would do is put you in more danger. I’ll keep this confidential. In the meantime, I’ll see if I can arrange for an officer to patrol by your house until we have more to go on.”
“I hope you’re wrong about this.”
“I hope so too.”
32
Saturday, December 31, 7:30 p.m.
Rouleau was alone in the office when Kala knocked on his closed door. She stepped inside upon his call to enter, leaving the door ajar. He stood near the window dressed in the suit she’d seen hanging next to the door.
“Going to a party tonight, Sir?” she asked as she joined him at the window.
“Something like that. I have to put in an appearance. You’re in the office late. Any plans this New Year’s Eve?”
“No. I might take a trip to the ByWard Market and walk around. It’s milder than it’s been.”
“I could meet you for a drink after this reception. I’ll be in the vicinity.”
She studied the rigid line of his shoulders. He was preparing himself for something he didn’t want to do. “I’d like that. Name a time and place and I’ll be there.”
“Is there something you want to discuss about the cases now?”
“It can wait until we meet up if you don’t mind talking work on a night that should be dedicated to partying.”
“I’ll look forward to it. Let’s meet at Vine’s wine bar at ten thirty. Do you know where that is?”
“I’ll find it.”
He looked at his watch. “I have to be going. You should take off too.”
“I just want to check a few things. I won’t be long behind you.”
“Good. See you in a bit then.”
Kala poured through the reports, beginning with Tom Underwood’s disappearance. His affair with Susan Halliday and their plans to leave their spouses gave the information a different focus. Who would lose the most if they carried through with their plan? Who would be angry enough to kill? Had Benny Goldstone known something the murderer wanted covered up? It was possible the murders were unrelated, but it wasn’t likely. Odds were they were killed by the same person. Logic dictated there was a link. She might have believed the murders were work-related if but for the attempt on Susan Halliday. Someone was making them pay. Clinton? Max? Hunter? Laurel? They all had reason. She just had to find the missing piece to make everything tumble into place. Maybe discussing it with Rouleau would give new insight.
At nine, she wearily turned off her computer and put on her coat. She found her phone in her pocket and checked for messages, relieved to find that nobody had tried to reach her. Perhaps, it would be a quiet night. She stopped at the main desk on her way out and spoke to the sergeant about having an officer patrol by the Hallidays’ overnight. He said that he’d see what he could do.
She thought about heading back to her room to change, but she didn’t have anything better to wear than what she had on. Instead, she made a stop in the washroom to loosen her braid and comb her hair. Rather than tie it back again, she left it loose around her face. She washed with the soap from the dispenser and patted her skin dry with paper towel, then dug around in her bag until she found lip gloss. Next to Rouleau, she’d be underdressed but he probably wouldn’t care. For certain, she didn’t.
The ByWard Market was busier than she’d ever seen. People were in a party mood, spilling onto the sidewalks in front of the bars and milling around in groups talking and laughing. Blasts of music assailed her ears whenever a door opened. The restaurants were brimming with customers sitting in tables of four or more; Christmas wreathes and strings of lights decked the buildings like party favours.
She spent a half hour walking down side streets, looking in windows and keeping an eye out for a young Aboriginal girl. At nearly ten o’clock, she reached the Fish Market restaurant. The Internet had shown Vines in the basement. She climbed downstairs where she was greeted by a hostess in a red dress. The room was dimly lit with candles at the tables, dark wooden bar running the front width of the room, booths and intimate tables. People filled each table and a buzz of talking punctuated by laughter almost drowned out the guitar player in the corner.
“I see my friend,” she said.
Rouleau was sitting with his back to the wall and rose at her approach. She noticed that he’d taken off his tie and suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves. He smiled as she slid into the chair across from him.
“I phoned and reserved a table, otherwise, we never would’ve gotten in.”
She looked around. “The whole market is crazy with people. New Year’s Eve at home was never like this.”
“I imagine not. I took the liberty of ordering a few appetizers. What would you like to drink?”
“Soda and cranberry.”
He signalled for the waitress and placed her order. He already had a glass of red wine in front of him. “So it looks like we’re sp
ending the major holidays together.”
“Our paths do seem to be crossing.” She smiled. “How was the reception?”
“Good.” He paused. “My ex-wife remarried this afternoon. She asked me to attend and I did it for her.” He drank deeply from his glass.
“That must have been hard.”
“It was the least I could do.”
“You still care for her.”
He shrugged. “I had my chance. If I could pass on any advice, it would be not to let the job take over. You can lose too much.” He smiled wryly although his eyes were sad. She found herself liking him at that moment, a wounded man who didn’t wallow in it.
They both leaned back as the waitress set down a plate of steaming mussels and crusty bread. They nodded at each other and dug in.
“These are wonderful,” said Kala. “I love seafood.” Wine and garlic broth dripped from her lips onto the napkin. She reached for another mussel.
“I was just hoping you weren’t allergic. I have some paté and finger food coming just in case. So what did you want to tell me about the case?”
“I discovered something interesting today. Tom Underwood and Susan Halliday have been having an affair for the past year. They were planning to leave their spouses.”
Rouleau stopped with a piece of bread in mid-air and looked at her. “Who else knew?”
“That’s the thing. Susan believes nobody, but I can think of a few who would be very displeased if they did.”
“Their spouses.”
“I went back through the interviews. If Laurel believed Tom was leaving her, no matter for whom, she might have wanted to ensure her lifestyle by getting rid of him. It gets confusing though when you add in the attack on Susan as well as Benny’s murder. Why would Laurel want to hurt them? If she knew about Susan and Tom, she might have wanted revenge. But Benny? I just don’t know.”
“What do you propose to do next?”
“I’ve thought all along that Susan Halliday is key, and I still think so. This may be nothing, but when we last interviewed Laurel, she said that if we found out what made Tom change his behaviour the last while, we’d find out who killed him. If I believe what Susan told me, it was because they’d fallen in love and he was going to change his life for her. I’d like to keep her under surveillance. Whoever emptied her gas tank and left her in the Gatineau Hills to freeze to death will probably try again. There’s so much going on beneath the surface with these people, I just don’t know who to trust.” She thought of Hunter and Laurel and the times she’d found them together, the awful feeling she got being around Clinton, Max, and Benny and their obvious connection.
“We don’t have a big enough team.”
“Bennett, Gage, and I can cover. Whelan will be back in a few days. Grayson and Malik can continue with the work angle.”
“I wish it were that simple. Vermette’s not going to okay protection on Susan. I can guarantee it. Grayson has J.P. Belliveau in his sights and won’t give that up easily, especially to go on surveillance. I’m not even certain that he should because Belliveau remains a prime suspect. We need to keep pursuing the work angle, especially since Underwood and Goldstone were in the same office, working on the same project.”
Kala kept her eyes on the food and didn’t say anything.
“I know this isn’t how you like working, but red tape takes priority, and that includes answering to Vermette and those above him. Believe me, there are days I’d like to go maverick too.” Rouleau sounded tired.
She looked across the table at him. “I just think we’re missing an opportunity. Clinton is leaving for the base tomorrow and if it’s him, the window is small.”
“You mean, for Clinton to do something to Susan? But we don’t even know for sure that it’s him.”
“But he’s also a very real candidate. I just feel that something bad is going to happen to her. She’s keeping secrets. I think she knows more than she’s saying.”
“Take Bennett and go see her early in the day. Let Clinton know we’re watching. That’s the best we can do without some evidence.”
“Thanks, Sir.”
“Whelan will be back on the second and life will get back to normal. We’ll resume our supporting role for Major Crimes and you’ll have a chance to settle in for real.”
“Beginning with media training.”
“Beginning with media training.” He smiled and his green eyes lightened a shade. “I think I’m going to be apologizing for that for quite some time.” He looked over her shoulder. “I see more food coming. Hope you’re hungry.”
“Always.”
“Then let’s eat our way into the new year.”
“That’s the best idea I’ve heard in a long time.”
33
Sunday, January 1, 11:00 a.m.
Susan Halliday looked across at Officer Stonechild and her sidekick, the young good-looking officer with the cleft chin. She met their gazes head on, no flinching or dropping of eyes. She knew why they’d come. Eleven o’clock on New Year’s morning and they acted like it was a routine call. She wondered if Clinton would realize they were here to make sure he returned to Trenton base without doing her in. They were already too late to make sure he didn’t hurt her. She instinctively raised her left hand to rub her arm but kept her hand moving up to her hair, which she pretended to pat into place. She hoped they didn’t notice how little she was using her right arm. The shoulder was swollen and hurt to move from where Clinton had gripped her in a rage the night before.
Clinton stood from his spot next to her on the couch. “Well, if you don’t have any more questions for me, I have to pack. I’m expected back at the base this afternoon.”
“Your uniforms are pressed and hanging in the spare room, darling,” said Susan.
“Thank you,” he said smiling down at her. “You’re the best wife a man could ask for.” He bent and kissed the top of her head.
She smiled up at him, playing the role he expected. She’d learned it was better to pretend to forgive him than to let him know how much he’d hurt her. If she stood up to him now, he’d make her pay later, in private.
They watched him leave the room with his stilted military gait. Officer Stonechild waited a few beats before asking for the tea Susan had offered at their arrival. Susan wondered how she was going to manage a tray as she agreed to put the kettle on.
“Sit,” said the young officer. “I’ll go make it while you two have a chat. That is, if you don’t mind?”
“That would be lovely. The teabags are in a blue canister next to the stove and the sugar bowl is on the table.” He made it sound like she and this detective with the black eyes that saw everything were girlfriends having another gab. Nothing could be further from the truth.
He left the room and Officer Stonechild turned toward her. “I believe you’re hiding something that could help us figure out who murdered Tom and likely Benny. It’s time to share what you know.”
“I’m sorry, but you’re mistaken. I’m not hiding anything.”
“You told me that you and Tom began seeing each other secretly about six months ago, is this correct?”
“Yes. I met him by chance on one of my walks and he came back here for coffee. It began then.” She remembered the day with a longing so sharp that Tom might be sitting across from her now. “Tom was going through a personal crisis. He was despondent about work and his life with Laurel. We found we had a lot in common.”
“You also said that you stopped seeing each other. You’d decided to wait until you were both free before moving away together, is this correct?”
“Yes, we agreed not to see each other until we’d taken steps to leave our marriages.”
“Had you begun proceedings before Tom was killed?”
“No. I planned to tell Clinton I was moving out after the Christmas break. I believe if he knew about me and Tom, he would have told me by now.”
“Are you still planning to leave the marriage?”
�
��There doesn’t seem to be much point now.”
“Has anyone in Tom’s family let on that they knew about your relationship?”
“No. As I told you, we were discreet. I’d also like to thank you for not telling anyone. You know, Detective, I never believed that our affair had anything to do with Tom’s death, or Bennie’s for that matter. Their deaths had to be linked to their work.”
“You may well be right.” Kala turned toward the door. “Here comes Officer Bennett with our tea.”
Clinton followed Bennett into the room. He walked over to Susan. “I’m on my way then. I’ll see you in a few weeks.” He bent down to kiss her cheek. “I’ll call tonight.”
“I’ll be waiting by the phone at the usual time,” she said.
Susan watched the officers leave from behind the curtain in the den. She didn’t know why she’d kept secret that she and Tom had met the night before he went missing. It just felt like the last precious memory she had to hold on to. She didn’t want their last time together to be defiled by the police or to be investigated. Nobody else knew about that night. How could it possibly have anything to do with his murder? She let the curtain drop back into place and stepped back from the window.
Clinton must be half way to Trenton. It was a clear winter day and he should make good time on the highway. She’d planned to clean the house today, but her shoulder ached too much to do any lifting. She’d have a hot bath and curl up with a book. If she felt like it later, she might walk over to Pauline’s to see if she wanted to go to a movie. It would cheer them both up. Then she remembered that it was New Year’s Day. Pauline would be doing something with her family. Normally she was included, but there was nothing normal about this holiday.
Perhaps she’d just slip back into bed for a nap. They’d had a late night at the country club and then Clinton had gone into that tirade after she’d been reluctant to have sex. She should have just given in without telling him she was tired. This time it had been her fault.
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