by Garry Ryan
The yard light above her head was all that lit the stage. It cast long shadows as Aidan walked Alex, the marionette, to centre stage. He was dressed in the colours of the rainbow, finished off with a pair of jacaranda-purple shoes.
Then, Aidan’s marionette (dressed exactly like Aidan) walked onstage from the opposite direction. The pair of marionettes stood face to face.
Alex was animated. Aidan, the marionette, assumed the pose of someone listening.
“How come you’re all dressed up and I’m wearing this?” Alex pointed at his shirt.
“You know me, I’m trying to resurrect the dragking phenomena. That way the guys in the audience will be able to get some fashion tips while watching the show. And, I thought you might enjoy the coming out symbols and colours….”
“Okay. Okay. I get it!”
“What’s your problem?” Aidan asked.
Alex tuned his back on her and crossed his arms. “You didn’t go to my sweat.”
“I’m sorry.” Aidan the marionette and Aidan the person hung their heads.
“Was it your moon time?” Alex turned his head.
“Yes.”
Alex turned to face her. “Well, then you couldn’t have been there anyway. You’re too powerful at that time of the month.”
Aidan’s faces lifted to see Alex. “Still, I wanted to be there. I know I said it was the cops, but it wasn’t. That’s when I can feel closest to you. You come to the sweat to be next to me.”
“Careful, people will begin to think I’m a ghost.” Alex held his hands up in the air.
“Just the ones who don’t understand.”
“That we were like brother and sister?” Alex let his arms drop slowly to his sides.
“You understand.”
“And you’re worried about my grandmother, aren’t you?” Alex placed a hand on Aidan’s marionette shoulder.
“She did get those threats on her computer,” Aidan said.
“She’ll be okay. She’s not the one responsible,” Alex said.
“You know who it is?” Aidan’s eyes opened wide.
“Of course. I saw what you couldn’t see.” Alex took his hand away and smiled.
“And you’re not gonna tell me, right?” Aidan shook her head.
“Maybe during the show. See how I feel. See what the audience is like. So, are we going to get on with the dress rehearsal or what?” Alex put his hands on his hips.
“Okay. You’re the boss!” Aidan’s voice rose with expectation and exasperation.
“Well, if I’m the boss I demand a new wardrobe!” Alex lifted one shoe for emphasis. “And I wanna do some dancing in one of the scenes.”
“We’ll see.” Aidan looked in the direction of the audience.
“What does that mean?” Alex looked out into the darkness as if trying to see what she was seeing.
“It means we’ll see. You keep secrets from me, so that means I get to keep a few from you.”
chapter 6
Lane found himself in the middle of a domestic war. Arthur’s eyes were wide with a combination of shock and disbelief.
Matt’s face was red with rage and his voice distorted by it. “What the hell did you do to my room?” He stood in the middle of the kitchen.
“I cleaned it.” Christine’s response was matter of fact as she turned to face him.
“You had no right!” Matt was close to tears. “It’s my room, not yours. Who the hell do you think you are?”
“It was a mess.” Christine smiled.
“You bitch!” Matt turned his back and pounded downstairs.
Christine followed.
Lane tried to hold her back, grabbed at her arm, but she shrugged him off.
“Don’t you call me that! Don’t you ever call me that!” Christine was two steps behind Matt.
Matt’s door slammed.
“Open this door!” There was a violent tearing of wood. The hollow core door to Matt’s room caved in when Christine put her foot through it.
“We’re going to the animal shelter tomorrow. The kids want to pick out a dog.” Arthur delivered the message with the finality of the twelfth commandment.
Lane had just finished talking to Christine about the repair for the door and had yet to talk with Matt. His mind was filled with today’s happenings at work and a single-minded desire for a shower. “You mean Matt wants to pick out a dog.”
“No. That’s the funny thing. This is the first thing they’ve agreed on since Christine came here, despite what happened tonight. Since we’re on the topic of Christine, have you looked at her room? It’s spotless. She insists on cleaning her room, and the rest of the house, each and every morning.” Arthur took a breath. “And we’re going to the rodeo. All of us.”
“First off, what’s so bad about Christine cleaning house?” Lane sat down on an oak kitchen chair.
“Besides the fact that she does a better job than me?”
Lane began to respond and stopped when he realized there was no way to answer the question without getting into more trouble.
“She asks permission to do everything. To wash her hands, wash the floors, take a bath, brush her teeth.”
“I don’t …”
“That’s right you don’t understand. The kid’s like a trained circus animal. She seldom leaves the house, is afraid to make a decision on her own, and yet she’s busting out, just itching to fight. I mean look at her clothes! What the heck is going on with that?”
“What do you want me to do?” Lane surrendered.
“Come with us tomorrow to look at dogs. And make time for the rodeo. It’s not very far away.”
“Can I have a shower now?” Lane asked.
Arthur’s entire manner softened. “How bad was it?”
“A body in the Elbow River, having the body identified, a sister who collapsed after she saw the body. Pretty bad.” Lane related the information in a flat, matter-of-fact tone.
“Sorry.” Arthur put his hand on Lane’s shoulder then a palm to his cheek. “Then you come home and walk into a battle between the kids. Still, we have to go for the dog tomorrow. I promised.”
“Okay.” Lane thought, How come your promises become mine? He got up and headed for the shower. “By the way, don’t we owe Lisa and Loraine a dinner?”
“How come when you have to talk with Lisa about a case, I always end up cooking dinner?”
Lane kept moving down the hall. “Just lucky, I guess.”
“He’s downstairs sleeping it off.” Erinn rubbed her hand across her face. When she took her hand away, there were dark semicircles reclining under each eye.
Harper sat down on the opposite side of the table. “What happened?”
“He came home drunk, sat down in your chair, and started talking.” Erinn’s red hair sprouted out at odd angles. She wasn’t smiling.
“About what?” Harper almost said something about her hair before thinking better of it.
“His friend died.” Erinn looked at Harper like he was the first or second stupidest person on the planet.
“What?” Harper felt he was just beginning to understand.
“Didn’t you read the paper?” Erinn asked.
“What do you mean?” Harper held his hands out, palms up.
“The kid who was hit by the train was Glenn’s friend.” Erinn wiped the back of her hand across her eyes.
“Shit.” Harper stood and moved closer to hold her.
Erinn leaned against him. “We have to go to the rodeo. Arthur invited us. Glenn wants to go. Maybe it’ll put a smile back on his face. He’s so down.”
Later, Harper awoke to Jessica’s crying. He opened his eyes to see the illuminated time on the alarm clock. It read three-thirty am.
Erinn snored.
He rolled out of bed, pulled on a t-shirt and sweats. When he turned on the light in Jessica’s room, she had a fist jammed in her mouth. He went to pick her up and found that her pajamas were wet from the armpits down. He carried her to the changin
g table and pulled out a diaper and clean pajamas. As he worked Jessica’s arms and feet out of the pajamas, he heard footsteps in the hall. Without looking, Harper said, “It’s okay Erinn, go back to sleep. She’s just wet.”
“Can’t sleep.” Glenn’s voice sounded like it had been tuned with beer and secondhand cigarette smoke. He moved into Jessica’s room.
“You smell like a brewery.” Harper dropped the wet pajamas in the hamper. He held his hand on Jessica’s tummy while studying Glenn’s slow, deliberate motions.
“I know. I look like shit.” Glenn leaned against the door jam.
Harper took off Jessica’s diaper. Glenn lifted the lid of the garbage can. Harper dropped the diaper inside. Glenn closed the lid. He covered his mouth and gagged.
In a minute, Harper had the baby in fresh pajamas and tucked next to his ribs. The three of them made for the kitchen.
“Better have some breakfast. Get something in your stomach.” Harper washed one hand after the other in the kitchen sink, juggled Jessica from one arm to the next, filled the coffee maker with water, and reached for a filter.
Glenn sat down and put his head on the table. “They say he had his music on.”
“What?” Harper measured out the coffee. “What are you talking about?”
Glenn lifted his head.
Harper closed the lid on the coffee machine, turned it on, and sat down across from Glenn.
Glenn smiled at Jessica. “Her eyes are closing.”
Harper waited.
Glenn’s smile died. “Steven had his music turned way up so he couldn’t hear the train. Don’t know how he ignored the vibration, the horn, or the headlight.”
“He was your friend?”
Jessica pulled at the hairs on Harper’s arm.
Glenn nodded. There were tears in his eyes.
The coffee maker spluttered.
“Any idea why?” Harper kept his voice low.
“He knew that I’m gay. We used to talk about it.
He told me how his parents were pretty religious and opinionated about lifestyle choices, if you know what I mean.” Glenn’s eyes were red-rimmed as he looked at his uncle.
“You mean they were homophobes?” Harper gently caressed Jessica’s head with his lips. Her eyes closed.
“Yep. Anyway, he was feeling down about a week ago. I saw him at school after an exam. We chatted for a few minutes, then he left. That was the last time I saw him. I got a call yesterday. The funeral date hasn’t been set yet.”
“You’re not responsible.” Harper stood up.
“Remember when I dressed up in drag for Halloween, and the principal told me to change or go home?”
For a moment Harper thought Glenn was going to laugh and say, “Change into what? I mean I am who I am, right?”
Instead, Glenn said, “Steven was the one who told me to come to school the next day dressed in that three piece pinstriped business suit. He told me it would make a statement louder than any argument. He taught me how to fight back. Even brought me an old black leather briefcase to carry with the suit.”
“It’s not your fault.” Harper moved closer to Glenn.
Glenn shrugged. His eyes filled with tears. His hands covered his face and he began to sob. Glenn woke Jessica, who began to cry in sympathy. Harper stood there in the middle of the kitchen, not knowing what to do next.
WEDNESDAY, JULY 3
Disappearances Cause
Stampede Concern
Unsolved disappearances and the discovery of the body of an as yet unidentified white male have created ripples within the city and surrounding communities. The unsolved disappearances of Ryan Dudley and Tyler McNally have been overshadowed by the discovery of a third body. Dudley competed as a bull rider before his disappearance. McNally often accompanied Dudley on the rodeo circuit. Both men lived together.
A roommate of the two men, Blake Rogers, said, “Duds was a real competitor. He and Tyler were real tight. Whoever is behind what happened to them better be careful. Cowboys are slow to get mad, but once that happens, watch out.”
Questions were raised by representatives of the Calgary Stampede Board. They expressed concern that patrons may stay away from this year’s Stampede due to security concerns. As a result, fifty more security guards have been hired. Also, there will be an increased police presence on the grounds.
chapter 7
Lane thought, You look like hell. “How’s the coffee?”
Harper and Lane sat across from one another in a coffee shop at the edge of town. Kuldeep was behind the counter. She smiled as she served the coffee. She thanked them in a now familiar voice that was one part music and one part English.
Harper looked over his double espresso as he took a sip and burned his tongue. He shook his head. They sat next to the window. The morning sun warmed the east side of their faces.
“Rough night?” Lane asked.
Harper looked back at Lane as if to say, “You don’t know the half of it.”
“Want to talk?” Lane asked.
“Did you read about the kid hit by the train down by Edworthy Park?”
Lane felt a sense of dread working its way up from his belly. “Yes.”
“It was a friend of Glenn’s. Name was Steven. Apparently the kid was talking about coming out. Glenn thinks the talk didn’t go well with Steven’s parents so he killed himself. Glenn’s blaming himself.”
“Believe me, Glenn’s not responsible.” Lane looked through Harper and into the past where memories of other tragedies created whitewater waves around boulders in the treacherous river of his early years.
“I guess Steven put his headphones on, turned up the music, and walked down the railway tracks.” Harper put his cup down. “It happened a couple of nights ago.”
Lane couldn’t think of anything to say, opened his mouth to say something anyway, then shut it.
“There’s nothing you can say.” Harper looked out the window. “Jessica and Glenn cried off and on for a couple of hours this morning. One would stop and the other would get started again. Erinn slept through the whole thing.”
“Matt wants a dog,” Lane said.
“What?” Harper looked at Lane like he hadn’t heard correctly.
“We have to go to the animal shelter tonight to look for a dog.”
“Oh?” It was Harper’s turn to be lost for words. He remembered what happened during last October’s snowstorm and what he’d found when he went looking for Lane’s dog, Riley.
“I don’t know,” Lane said.
“Man, you’ve been weird ever since the sweat lodge.”
Thankfully, Lane’s phone rang. “Hello.”
Lane looked at Harper. “We’re on our way.”
Fifteen silent minutes later, they were headed west toward the mountains at the very edge of town where the city and the country rubbed up against one another. Lane noticed a gas station on the north side of the highway as they passed it. It was a rare example of nineteen fifties’ architecture. The metal shone and the stucco had a fresh coat of white paint. I wonder how long before it gets torn down? he thought.
Lane looked down the two lane highway. He broke the silence, picking up where their conversation had ended at the coffee shop. “How weird have I been acting?”
“Out there. Distracted. You know, distant. Thinking about something else all the time. What happened to you?”
Lane thought for a minute. “I still haven’t figured that out. When I do, I’ll let you know.”
Harper decided not to push it. “Is Fibre gonna be there?”
“He’s on his way.”
They turned south onto the gravel road leading to Blake Rogers’ acreage.
Lane could feel the sweat gathering along his hairline when they got out of the air-conditioned car and faced Blake’s ranch-style house with its red brick front. He stood next to the car and waited for Rosco the German shepherd. In the quiet, he listened to the ticking of the car’s cooling engine. He heard Harper moving h
is feet on the gravel. Lane looked across at his partner. Harper was checking and rechecking every shrub, every corner, every bit of cover where someone might hide near the ranch house.
Blake opened the door. Lane watched him step out into the sun. Again, Blake was dressed in black. He put on his black stetson.
“Morning detectives. It’s Harper and?…” Blake motioned with his right hand.
“Detective Lane,” Harper said.
“We need to go around back.” Blake led the way to the south side of the house.
Lane looked at the Quonset and corral. There were no horses or cattle. Grass grew knee-high inside the fence. He could see no evidence of trampled or grazed grass.
They followed Blake around to the back of the house.
“Didn’t find these ’til this morning. I got up and went to check the yard.” Blake pointed at the white vinyl siding.
“Where’s Rosco?” Lane asked.
Blake looked away. “Don’t know.”
Lane and Harper looked back at the house. The bullet holes were relatively evenly spaced, working their way from the lower north side of the wall up to where one round had shattered a roof tile at the south peak of one gable. Lane counted five bullet holes.
“Didn’t hit any windows.” Harper looked at Blake before looking back at Lane with his best “I don’t buy it” look.
“That’s why I didn’t notice it last night,” Blake said.
Lane walked north to the stacked round bails about twenty metres from the north end of the house.
“There’s a guy who cuts the hay for us. He takes a percentage for his cattle. Duds liked to feed it to his horse.” Blake followed along behind Lane.
Harper followed Blake.
Lane turned and studied the ground.
Blake said, “What you lookin’ for?”
“Whatever is here.” Lane said the words without looking back at Blake.
“Does Rosco do this often?” Lane looked at the ground while listening intently to Blake’s tone of voice. He’s not so cocky all of a sudden, Lane thought. What’s caused the change in behaviour?
