Cold Mourning

by Brenda Chapman

  That last night when he’d come over, he’d told her that he was ready to move out of the house he shared with Laurel to find an apartment in downtown Ottawa. He’d wait for her there to break free of Clinton. He didn’t care if they stayed in Ottawa, but if he fought for joint custody of Charlotte, it would be best if they remained somewhere in Ontario. He didn’t want to do to Charlotte what he’d done to Geraldine and Hunter, but she knew he was worried about how Clinton would react to her departure and would leave this city for her. She hadn’t told Tom how bad it had gotten at home, but she wondered now if he’d guessed and that was why he’d been willing to make a move. She’d been stronger that last night, determined to face Clinton and tell him that their marriage was over. Tom had given her strength. Now … well now she could barely muster the energy to lift this full cup of coffee to her lips.

  The sun had risen enough so that Susan could see the dark outline of trees beyond the patio doors. Cloud cover would keep the day a sullen grey but it would be plenty light enough for a tramp along the riverbank in Chapman Mills Conservation Area, a ten minute drive across Prince of Wales Drive south of Winding Way. Normally, she’d walk the distance, but today she’d be too cold by the time she reached their meeting spot.

  Susan stirred herself to stand up and get moving. If she hurried, there would be time for a quick bath and a bowl of granola before she set out to meet Pauline. Fresh air and a walk with her oldest friend could be all she needed to get her energy back. It would be two weeks before Clinton returned home from the base. Time enough to pull herself out of this dangerous funk. Time enough to decide the best way to leave him.

  37

  Sunday, February 26, 9:05 a.m.

  The snow crunched underfoot as if she was walking on shattered glass. Susan inhaled the sharp edge of cold air and surveyed the stretch of Rideau River cradled in pine, Douglas fir, scraggly cedar, and snowy banks. The current was strong in places, with eddies of black water visible under the thinning layer of ice that snaked upriver toward the rapids. This sudden cold snap couldn’t hold back the approaching spring. Already, the ice had been weakened by the two weeks of unprecedented warmth.

  Susan spotted Pauline standing in the shadow of a giant pine at the beginning of the path. From spring to fall this was a walking trail with heavy traffic morning to night. Not so in the winter on a frigid morning. It was unusually cold, but Susan had dressed warmly in her down coat and lined nylon pants. She’d put her hood up and wrapped a wool scarf around her neck so that the stinging wind only found her cheeks and forehead. Pauline looked to be dressed as warmly as well and completely in white — ski jacket, ski pants, hat, gloves, and boots. Dark, wrap-around sunglasses were the only bit of colour.

  “I could hardly see you standing there,” Susan said, puffing as she approached the meeting spot. “You blend right into the snowy day.”

  They hugged. Pauline laughed and held up a thermos. “Glad you could make it. I brought sweet tea for our break on the trail.”

  “I think we might be alone on our walk. This north wind will keep people inside.”

  “I don’t mind if you don’t. We can just walk to the big bend in the river. It’s only twenty minutes in.”

  They started into the wood side by side. The path paralleled the river, winding through pine, cedar, tamarack, birch, and stretches of bulrushes. Leafless sumac and honeysuckle bushes lined the river bank in places, their branches poking out from under a coat of snow. The canopy of branches had kept the snow from the path for the most part. Cross country skiers and hikers had flattened down the rest so walking was not difficult. Inside the woods they were protected from the harshest bite of the wind. When the trail wound into openings next to the river, the wind bit into their cheeks, but just as quickly they’d be back amongst the trees. Susan could hear the wind soughing through the pines, a lonely, animal sound, and yet she found it comforting. It reminded her that the wind was powerful energy that nobody could control. When she leaned way back, she saw the tree tops swaying like skirted women dancing a languid samba. She smiled at the image and let the peace of the day replace the unsettled thoughts that were with her now every waking moment. She turned toward Pauline.

  “I didn’t see your car in the lot.”

  “No, I had an appointment and came directly from there. I parked on a side street off Winding Way because I was early and wanted to stretch my legs. I’ve been sadly neglecting my exercise regime with all the turmoil. I’ll take a lift back to my car if you don’t mind.”

  It was the closest Pauline had come to mentioning Tom’s death. Susan linked her arm through Pauline’s. “It’s been a tough time but we’ll get through it together.”

  Pauline’s head swivelled so that she was looking at Susan through her dark sunglasses. They completely hid her eyes. Her mouth was a thin, tight line, and for the first time Susan felt a twinge of unease.

  “Yes, together. It’s the only way for friends to get through,” said Pauline.

  Susan smiled and relaxed. This was the Pauline she’d known since high school. The friend she sometimes didn’t like very much, but the one she always loved. “How are Max and Geraldine coping with the new baby?”

  “You haven’t heard? Max moved out.”

  Susan stopped walking. “I had no idea. Is Geraldine all right?”

  “It was for the best. Max stole money from her and he was unfaithful.” Pauline turned and looked at Susan and then kept walking. Susan hurried to catch up.

  “Poor Geraldine. I remember how in love she was when they married.”

  Pauline barked a laugh. “If I’ve learned one thing, it’s that you never really know anybody. People act one way but will stab you in the back first chance they get.”

  Susan couldn’t think of a response.

  They walked single file across a walking bridge and then along a narrow curve in the path that wound through a tangle of prickly bushes. Small birds flitted from limb to limb on the branches overhead. The deeper woods were like a cocoon, sounds from the river muffled, the air still and damp. Susan wondered what was going on in Pauline’s head. They’d all worked hard to protect her after Tom deserted her for Laurel. Even still, Pauline had gone through a manic period of pretending her life was glorious before she’d crashed into a state of not eating and depression. Could she have fallen back into that place? Susan caught up to her when the path broke into a clearing and widened so that they could walk two abreast.

  “I’m so sorry Geraldine and Max couldn’t work it out.”

  “Yes, but it’s better this way. Geraldine finally saw him for what he is and now he’s out of her life.”

  Pauline picked up speed as they entered the wood again. The trees were old growth and towered above them, plumy branches casting shadows on the path. Susan hurried to keep pace. Even with the cold temperature, a trickle of sweat dampened the back of her neck inside the down coat.

  “Did you tell anyone we were walking today?” asked Pauline.

  “No. I got your note when Clinton was heading back to the base but didn’t mention it. I’m thinking about leaving him.” Susan said the words aloud for the first time. They felt leaden on her tongue but also freeing.

  Pauline turned her head and stared at her through her dark sunglasses. Susan wished she could see Pauline’s eyes to know what she was thinking. Probably I told you so. Pauline had never liked Clinton.

  “You have a black eye,” said Pauline.

  “I fell.”

  Pauline stared at her for a few moments and then shrugged. “If you say so.”

  They kept walking in silence. Susan wanted to break the wall that had grown between them, but felt helpless. Pauline pointed to the river ahead. The path curved left and a park bench sat in a clearing a few metres from the river. Bulrushes and reeds filled the space between the path and the waterline. It was a pleasant place to sit in the summer when the heat and humidity were too much to bear in the concrete suburbs.

  “How about a cup of tea and th
en we can head back?” Pauline asked.

  “Lovely.”

  Pauline rushed ahead and wiped the snow from half the bench. “You sit and I’ll stand,” she said. “I’ve been having trouble with my legs and don’t want them to seize up.”

  “Is that new?” Susan asked, concerned.

  “The doctor gave me a new prescription that seems to be helping with the circulation. Here, I’ll pour some tea.” She took off her glove and unscrewed the thermos lid, filling the cup to the brim and handing it to Susan. She took out another plastic cup from her jacket pocket. “I came prepared.” She poured some of the tea into it and raised it to her lips as she set the thermos on the bench next to Susan.

  “Lots of sugar,” said Susan. “Sweet but good,” she added so as not to offend.

  “I figured we’d need some energy.” Pauline watched her drink before turning her back and looking out over the frozen river. “I like it here. It’s so peaceful.”

  “Have you been spending much time with Geraldine and Amy Rose?”

  “Oh yes. There’s something about a baby that makes everything seem worthwhile. You haven’t been to visit?”

  “No. Clinton was home and it was hard to get away.”

  “He never seemed like a good match for you. Why ever did you marry him?”

  “Loneliness, I guess. He was attentive and persistent at the beginning.” Susan laughed. “He still is, come to think of it, but now his behaviour just seems controlling.”

  “Well, drink up. Would you like a bit more before we head back?”

  Susan drained the last of her cup. “No, this is fine, thanks.” She handed the cup in Pauline’s direction, but Pauline had suddenly gone blurry.

  “Wow, I feel dizzy all of a sudden.” She could make out Pauline staring at her from behind those damn sunglasses. Susan started to stand but fell back onto the bench. “Everything is spinning. What … was in … that tea?”

  “GHB, which the kids tell me stands for grievous bodily harm,” Pauline said, matter-of-factly. Her voice was as cold as the frosty air. She poured the tea from her own cup in a long golden stream into the snow. “Causes dizziness, trouble moving, and loss of consciousness. If I’m lucky, seizures and problems breathing. It takes about fifteen minutes to take full effect.”

  “Why?” Susan gripped onto the underside of the bench with both hands to steady herself. Even the fear coursing through her felt off balance.

  “To kill you. Why else? Tom fell for the same trick. Oh, don’t look at me like that. The two of you played me for a fool, but I’ve shown you both that I won’t accept your betrayal. I was out walking that night he spent in your bedroom. I saw him go inside and then the two of you embracing through your bedroom window. I went home and got my car and waited outside until he went home. How long had the affair been going on? Did you think you were Charles and Camilla, screwing around behind my back while we were married? You both must have found it so funny, putting one over on me all these years and laughing at how pathetic I was. Well, she who laughs last….”

  Susan tried to shake her head. Lights trailed like shooting stars across her vision. Pauline had drugged Tom? Horror kept her hanging onto the shreds of reality already slipping away. “Benny,” she mumbled, “too?”

  “I overheard him with Max in the office. They were screwing around on Geraldine and had been for years, just like you and Tom were on me. Sinners, the whole lot of you.” Pauline took a step closer and wrapped a hand under Susan’s arm. She bent down and whispered through clenched teeth into Susan’s ear, “Somebody has to make you pay for your sins, you see that, don’t you? The beauty is that Clinton will be blamed. I’ve left enough clues to put him away for a very long time. Three murders’ worth. That ought to bring you some cold comfort. Geraldine, Amy Rose, and I are going to start a new life free from the lot of you, and you, my dear friend, will find out how it feels to have your life destroyed just as I did.” She cocked her head sideways, “Of course, you won’t remember any of this so you probably won’t know. But whatever.”

  Susan screamed, but her throat barely got the sound out. The wind carried her fear into the woods with nobody to save her. She tried to grip more tightly onto the bench as Pauline yanked her forward. Her arms were as floppy as a rag doll’s. She stumbled to her knees and looked up at Pauline’s bright red face, so familiar and so grotesque. It kept fading in and out like an image distorted by mirrors in a fun house. Panic shot up from her stomach.

  “I don’t want to die,” she screamed with all the fear of a woman who knew the end was near. The words were garbled when they finally made it to her lips.

  Pauline kicked her in the side. “You should have thought of that before you slept with my husband.”

  38

  Sunday, February 26, 8:45 a.m.

  Rouleau took Stonechild’s call in his kitchen. “You’re up early for a Saturday,” he said while shuffling eggs with a spatula around the frying pan. He glanced at his watch. “Not even nine yet. Eager to put your media training to work?” Her excited voice at the other end made him smile. “No, but I am psyched about something I found out yesterday. I’ve been up most of the night going through the files and I think I have proof.”

  “Proof of what?”

  “Who killed Tom Underwood and Benny Goldstone.”

  “It’s not your case anymore, Stonechild.”

  “I know, I know, but this fell into my lap. I was with friends I hadn’t seen in a long time yesterday and the little girl goes to the after four program at the community centre downtown. Guess who her art teacher was?”

  Rouleau shifted left to pop down the bread in the toaster. “No idea. Who?”

  “Pauline Underwood. Tom’s ex-wife.”

  Rouleau paused, the spatula suspended above the frying pan. “And?”

  “Pauline told this little girl before Christmas that she was leaving to get married. Her husband was coming back to her at long last. As you recall, her husband was Tom Underwood, and he was planning to marry her best friend Susan.”

  Rouleau lowered the spatula and began scrapping the eggs from where they’d begun to brown. “If this is true, it’s bizarre behaviour. Maybe even delusional.”

  “Isn’t it? Anyhow, I spent the night going through all the documents and Pauline could have done the murders. In fact, she’s the logical choice when you look at who was killed. Also, don’t forget Susan’s near-death experience in the Gatineaus.”

  “Why’s it logical?” The facts of the case filed through his brain.

  “Let’s say Pauline found out about Tom and Susan and their affair. Here’s a woman who thinks she’s about to be reunited with her ex-husband, only to find out he’s sleeping with her best and oldest friend. Pauline’s family mentioned a few times her desperation and odd behaviour when Tom left her for Laurel. She stopped eating and visited a counsellor, likely a shrink if you read between the lines. It makes sense she would have tried to make them both pay for what she must have believed was their betrayal. For an unstable woman, it wouldn’t matter that years had passed since she and Tom were married. Tom’s murder was personal. I think she got him to drop in for coffee early that morning and drugged him. She could have parked his car in her garage and left him in the trunk. He might have even been there when we were first looking for him. She must have brought the car to the Central Experimental Farm one night and jogged to a bus stop where nobody would remember her. It wouldn’t have taken him long to freeze to death. As for the attempt on Susan Halliday, the two of them routinely went cross-country skiing together on that trail in the Gatineau Hills. It was just a matter of Pauline following Susan up there and waiting for an opportunity. Susan said there were tire marks near her van.”

  “What about Benny Goldstone?”

  “He was cheating on Geraldine with Max and stealing from her. Pauline must have caught them. The fact it was a piece of sculpture from the office used to kill Benny makes it appear the killing was done spur of the moment. Pauline’s wherea
bouts for the time he was killed are vague at best. She’d already made Tom pay. She must have thought the men in her life were all cheating scum.”

  “Where would she get the drug she used on Underwood? It was a street drug.”

  “Pauline worked at a couple of youth centres. Stuff is floating around, and she was well liked by the kids. It wouldn’t take much for one of them to sell her something.”

  “Where are you now?” he asked.

  “On my way to Susan Halliday’s. I think she was lying about the last time she and Tom got together. Something tipped Pauline off. I’m going to see if I can make her talk to me.”

  Rouleau turned off the stove. “Wait for me in front of her house. Don’t talk to her until I get there. I’m on my way.”

  “Will do, Sir.”

  Kala kept the motor running in her truck and watched Susan’s house from a discreet distance across the street. She was quite certain that it was Susan’s Mazda in the driveway. A few minutes later, as if Kala conjured her up, Susan stepped onto the front steps, bundled up in a red down coat and nylon pants, scarf, hat, and mitts. She fumbled with the front door lock before striding toward the van and climbing into the front seat.

  Kala started to open her truck door to intercept her, but remembered Rouleau’s instruction to wait until he arrived before approaching Susan. She thought about ignoring his order. While she hesitated, she figured it might be a better idea to see where Susan was heading. Kala grabbed a map from where she’d tucked it under the passenger seat and held it up near her face. She lowered it enough to keep an eye on the driveway.

  Susan let the van warm up for a good minute before slowly backing onto the street so that she was pointed west. Acting on instinct, Kala ducked down and averted her head just before Susan cruised past. Kala checked in the side mirror, but Susan hadn’t looked in her direction. Kala straightened and kept watching in the mirror. The van was rounding a curve in the road and heading north, still on Eisenhower.