by Garry Ryan
“What do you mean?” Lane thought, Maybe this isn’t the time to tell her that Eva thinks I had a vision.
“I’d turn my back and someone would bump into me. Leaving church, after one of his sermons, I’d get elbowed in the ribs. Half the time, I couldn’t tell who did it. And no one, not even my mother, said anything.
I had bruises on top of bruises.” Christine took the wet platter from Lane.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what? You didn’t do anything.” She held the platter and let the water drip into the sink.
Lane kept his hands in the soapy water, fishing for a fork. “That’s the problem, I didn’t do anything. I listened to what some other people had to say. They believed I wasn’t fit to be your uncle. By the time I realized they were wrong, it was too late. You and your mother had disappeared.”
Christine was silent for a moment. “That’s really the way you feel?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe we both listened to the wrong people.”
Christine rubbed Lane’s back then pulled her hand away, leaving a wet mark on his shirt. “Does that hurt?”
He smiled. “Right now, almost everything hurts. Still, it’s good to have you around again.”
Christine looked at him. “You mean that?”
“Of course I do.”
After the dishes, they sat down in the living room. Glenn, Christine, and Matt took the dog for a walk.
Erinn looked at the way Arthur sat contented with the sleeping baby. “Arthur? Why won’t Lane see the police shrink?”
Arthur looked at Erinn. Conversation died while everyone in the room focused on his answer. “His family sent him to a shrink when he came out. The psychiatrist was a member of the church. He tried to convince Lane that he was making a choice to be gay. That he needed to be deprogrammed.”
Lane followed the conversation, at the same time thinking about his blood soaking through Eva’s tea towel as he sat with Harper on the grass next to her house.
“But, last year Lane worked with Loraine and she’s a psychologist. That was no problem,” Harper said.
“That’s different. He knew Loraine before and besides, he trusts her.” Arthur looked at Harper. “Like he trusts you.”
Lisa got up and held out her hands.
“Okay. Okay.” Arthur handed her the sleeping baby.
Lisa lifted Jessica, tucked her in the crook of her arm, and sat back down next to Loraine.
Loraine smiled, looked at the detectives and asked, “How are you two feeling about the shooting?”
Harper looked at Lane, who said, “You first.”
“I’m having flashbacks about the first time I was shot.” Harper looked at Erinn. She stared back at him with an intensity that forced him to look away.
“The first time?” Loraine asked.
Harper took a long breath. “It was a leg wound.”
“And you?” Loraine turned to Lane.
“Right now, my mind keeps going over the events, trying to figure out what happened. It happened so fast; it’s confusing.” Lane looked at the faces watching him.
Erinn said, “We’ve just had a baby and I’m worried. Whenever I think about what could have happened, I think I’m going to go crazy!”
Harper put his hand on Erinn’s.
“I’ve been doing some reading and your reactions are pretty typical. Events like this leave a scar. It’s when the people affected start to shut down or act out in atypical ways that you have to be careful.” Loraine smiled. “We’ll say that the mooning incident at the Animal Shelter was drug induced. Or we could say that it’s the first indication of a much larger problem!”
Lane laughed. Jessica was startled awake and began to cry. Lisa stood and rocked the baby. Jessica’s eyes closed. Her fists opened as she relaxed.
Harper watched with interest. “You’ve got the knack.”
Lisa looked pleased with herself. She sat down. “Actually,” Lisa looked at Loraine who nodded, “we’ve got an announcement of our own. We’re expecting.”
Everyone looked at Loraine.
Loraine turned to Lisa.
“How come everyone thinks it’s Loraine? I’m thirteen weeks pregnant.” Lisa’s eyes filled with tears. “Sorry. Everyone we’ve told has reacted the same way. Can’t see me as the motherly type, I guess. And my hormones are running wild.” She wiped at her eyes.
The front door opened. The dog rushed in. She went immediately to Lisa. The dog put her chin on Lisa’s knee.
Glenn was next in the room. “Hey, we’ve got two new choices for the dog’s name. Do you want to vote?”
Christine and Matt stood on either side of Glenn.
“We can’t decide,” Glenn said. “It’s either Babs or Wilde.”
Matt pointed a thumb at Glenn. “His idea.”
“Neither one of the names makes any sense.” Christine shook her head and frowned.
“You know, Streisand; Babs. Wilde; Oscar Wilde,” Glenn said.
“Wilde is a boy’s name?” Christine asked.
“Roz. That dog’s a Roz if ever I saw one,” Erinn said. “Now, that’s settled. After I feed Jessica, we need to figure out how to get us all to the rodeo.”
If anyone else had said it, Lane thought, it would have been dismissed out of hand, but because Erinn said it with just the right amount of confidence and enthusiasm, the name stuck.
Fifteen minutes later, Harper and Lane sat with Lisa and Loraine on the deck. Inside, Erinn fed Jessica while chatting with Christine and Arthur. Matt and Glenn were at the kitchen table deep in their own conversation.
“We were hoping you could give us some background on the Alex Starchild case.” Lane sipped wine and looked through the glass at Lisa.
Harper played with the cap from his bottle of beer.
Lisa sipped a glass of ice water. “There was an extensive investigation. The problem there was the lack of evidence. The eyewitness could not positively identify the truck’s license plate. She didn’t see the occupants of the vehicle. Aidan, I believe her name was, did remember seeing a front plate with ‘Republic of Alberta’ on it. Investigating officers checked pickups of the same colour in the area, but there was no consistent body damage on any of them.”
Harper pushed the pop can away. “Were there any promising suspects?”
“We kept getting calls from people in the area who wanted the investigators to take a closer look at a guy named Blake Rogers, but there was no physical evidence to link him to the boy who was killed.” Lisa sat up in her chair.
“Did you do any of the interviewing?” Lane asked.
Lisa shook her head. “The guys investigating the crime kept digging and kept coming up empty. I read over the reports.”
“That’s it, then?” Loraine asked.
“Unless there’s new information,” Lane said.
“Actually, there is something else.” Harper leaned forward and looked directly at Loraine. “Lane won’t go near downtown anymore. Since the fire, he’s come to fewer and fewer meetings. He’s been downtown maybe once or twice this month. The staff sergeant is asking questions. To make matters worse, it looks like the chief is getting ready to retire. Deputy Chief Calvin Smoke’s makin’ his move. He figures he’s got a shot at becoming the top dog. He’s backed by all of his friends in the scotch drinkers’ club.”
Lane glared at Harper, who ignored him.
“Scotch drinkers’ club?” Loraine asked.
Harper shook his head. “Bunch of cops who meet once a month to drink expensive scotch, pat each other on the back, network. Get the picture?”
Lisa said, “Otherwise known as a misogynists’ club?”
Harper pointed a finger and a beer bottle at Lisa. “You got it. Anyway, guess who’s a member of the club?”
Lisa shrugged. Loraine shook her head.
“Stockwell,” Lane said.
“And that’s why you won’t go downtown anymore?” Loraine asked.
Lane took a brea
th. “I thought we were moving forward, away from the old days. Now it looks like we’re going back to the nineteen fifties. You know, the good old days when men were men and women were glad? Where the closet was closed and locked.”
“Oh, I see,” Loraine said without sounding convinced.
“How’s staying away gonna make it any better?”
Harper asked.
SATURDAY, JULY 6
chapter 9
“You know we have to go back out there,” Harper said. They sat in Kuldeep’s coffee shop on the west side of town. Harper wore his jacket and tie.
Lane wore a loose-fitting shirt and a pair of black sweatpants.
Fear gripped Lane. It was an oddly familiar sensation. “This is what you went through after you were shot?”
Harper took a breath. “Yep.”
“And you’re going through it again?” Lane took his cup of coffee in two hands.
Harper nodded. “The flashbacks started last night. One shooting gets all mixed up with the other. I keep hearing the ricochet, then the sound of the bullet smacking into flesh. When I look down, there’s smoke coming out of my leg. It’s weird.”
“In my nightmare, I look down and see the blood soaking through my pants. Then I look around and there are hummingbirds circling the yard. I still can’t figure out why I didn’t feel pain until I saw the wound.” Lane put his coffee down when the tremors started in his wrists and moved to his fingers.
“That’s why we need to go back. We need to get the monkey off our backs and we need to talk to Eva.” Harper thought, Since you won’t see the shrink, I’m gonna pass on what I learned the first time around, after I was wounded.
“What about?” Lane asked.
“I did some checking this morning. You know, an electronic search using Eva’s name. She filed a land claim about six months before Alex was killed.” Harper opened up his laptop.
“Just tell me.” Lane tried another sip of coffee to check if his hands were getting steadier.
“The basis of her claim is that the land she owns was originally reserve land. Later, it was given to an Anglican minister who had worked in the area for over twenty-five years. It was a kind of retirement gift for him. The problem was, no one from the First Nations was in on the land deal and the minister’s land was originally part of the area covered by the treaty.”
“And?”
Harper closed his laptop. “Eva bought her piece of land. It borders the T’suu T’ina Reserve, a proposed new development and other acreages. Some of her neighbours to the north and west could subdivide their land tomorrow and make huge profits. The problem is that Eva’s land, and the land in question, is in the middle of the next stage of development. Makes investors reluctant to jump in when they might not see a return for a decade or more. It’s even possible they might end up losing the land.”
“So we may be talking about a motive for Alex’s murder?” Lane asked.
“That, or at the very least, a reason for resentment between Eva and some of the other landowners. When you take a look at Blake Rogers’ land, it gets even more interesting. He inherited the place from his grandmother. I checked into it, and the sale of similar properties. If Blake sold it today, he’d make millions.”
“Why doesn’t he sell, then?” Lane looked at Roz, who sat patiently outside on the other side of the coffee shop’s glass wall. She raised her eyebrows hopefully. Roz and Lane had taken a slow walk to Kuldeep’s to meet with Harper.
“Hey guys, want more coffee?” Kuldeep stood behind the counter with a smile and tired eyes from working fourteen-hour days, seven days a week.
“Maybe in a minute, thanks.” Lane smiled back.
“No problem,” Kuldeep said.
“I checked with a real estate friend. He said the cheaper properties are being bought up, but the land in Blake’s price range isn’t selling as well because investors who are willing to wait out the land claim — Who would want to sit on that kind of money? — are a little hard to come by. And, Blake’s land is part of the land Eva is claiming rightfully belongs to the T’suu T’ina Nation.” Harper leaned back and waited for Lane to get the picture.
“So we need to go and see Blake too?” Lane drained his coffee. He looked outside. Roz was on her belly with her head between her paws, staring at him with pleading brown eyes.
“There’s more. After Alex died, Eva changed her will. The land will be passed on to an Aidan Walker and Eva’s estranged daughter. Aidan was with Alex when he was killed.”
“So, with an eyewitness, why hasn’t this case been solved?” Lane stood up, grimaced, and took his cup over to Kuldeep. “One for me and another for him, please.” He pulled out a twenty dollar bill.
“No problem.” Kuldeep smiled.
“How are you doing?” Lane asked.
“This franchise has made a slave of me. Besides that, everything is good.” She filled their cups.
“What do you mean slave?” Lane asked.
“The way it works is that the company from Toronto takes its money out of my bank account every month. There’s not much left after the rent is paid and the company is finished with me. They made a lot of big promises about how much money I would make and their promises turned out to be wrong.” Kuldeep smiled as she passed over the coffees.
“I don’t understand. You should be able to make a living and it’s always busy here.”
Kuldeep shrugged. “As long as we’re open and paying taxes, the company in Toronto is making money and the company does whatever it wants. No one, including the government, wants to hear about how I’ve become a slave to the franchise because there’s not enough money left at the end of the month to pay a living wage.”
Lane returned to the table and took his time sitting down.
Harper pulled his fresh cup closer. “When Alex was killed, the crime happened outside of the city limits. Now the land is inside the city. The rcmp had a few suspects, but Aidan didn’t see the rear license plate. She only saw the front plate and couldn’t say exactly who was in the truck.” Harper got up to add cream and sugar to his coffee.
Lane waited until Harper got back. “Republic of Alberta?”
“Yep. The rcmp tracked down several pickups matching the vehicle description. Blake Rogers was a person of interest. His vehicle was suspicious, because he lives nearby. It looked like the truck had two new doors, but the rcmp couldn’t get anyone to talk. And they couldn’t find any damage to the vehicle, or blood, hair, or tissue evidence to connect the vehicle to Alex Starchild.”
“So, who exactly is this Aidan Walker?” Lane talked louder as Kuldeep steamed coffee.
“I met her while you were in the sweat lodge.” Harper looked out the window at Roz. “She’s some kind of artist or puppeteer.”
“That’s all we know?” Lane asked.
“So far.” Harper stared at his reflection in the window.
Lane saw the far off look in his partner’s eyes. “Another flashback?”
Harper turned back to Lane. “How did you know?”
Aidan wore a short gold skirt made full with layers of underlying crinoline. Under the skirt, she wore black spandex pants and black running shoes. Her blue, tightfitting jacket was pinstriped and accented with a white silk tie. Her blonde hair was combed back. As always, her marionette persona was dressed the same way.
“It sucks.” Alex sat in a chair under the catwalk with his legs stretched out front.
“You’re not going to complain about your costume again, are you?” Aidan, the marionette, stood over him.
“Now that you mention it.…” Alex stood up and smiled. “Actually, I was going to say it sucks that you don’t have a life.”
“What do you mean?” Aidan crossed her arms.
“I’m your only friend. A dead friend at that. And Eva is your family. The fact is, Eva’s getting old. Once she’s gone, there will only be me. Now, as much as I love being around you, a warm body would be a lot better for you. Just because your parent
s left you behind and moved to Australia for a stupid job doesn’t mean you can’t trust anyone but me and Eva.” Alex put a hand on Aidan’s shoulder.
Aidan pushed the hand away. “I’m not ready for that. You never understood that. When your parents do that to you, it shows you what they really value.”
“So, you moved in with me and Eva.” He leaned forward in his chair.
“You’re family. More than my parents are. And, since you’re asking, I’m doing okay,” Aidan said.
“Well you’d better start meeting other people. The way people have been disappearing around the old homestead, it looks like warm bodies will be at a premium. Now that a cop’s been shot, things could get even more dangerous.” Alex walked away from Aidan.
“Things will cool down. They always do. What they did to you has to be settled. I made a promise to you and myself that the guys who killed you would end up facing what they did.” Aidan followed Alex off stage.
Alex said, “But what happens to you and your life? You like to start fires, get people going. What’s that say about you?”
“That I’ve waited long enough for the police to do their jobs, and now I’m doing what I can to settle this thing.”
“What if it gets worse? You know as well as I that people are talking about barricading the highway. Some hotheads want to stop the city from getting any closer,” Alex said.
“What are they fighting about?” Arthur leaned on an elbow to look at the bedside clock.
Lane opened his eyes. “What time is it?”
“One AM.” Arthur heaved himself out of bed.
Lane rolled over, saw light along the bottom of the door and thought, The hallway light is on. He recalled a three dimensional dream, compliments of the painkiller he’d taken before bed. It had something to do with falling off a bridge into fast-moving water the colour of eye shadow.
