“If you tell me what you’re looking for, I might spare you the bother.”
“Sorry, sir — it’s just orders. I really can’t say more than that.”
“There are no drugs in my house,” Dan said, though he doubted that was what they were really after. “Who authorized this?”
The officer shook his head. “Just orders, sir.”
Dan knew he’d get nothing out of him. He let them do their dirty work. It was more than four hours before the officer nodded ruefully at him and they left empty-handed. He thought of Saylor’s message again. No need to call back now.
Dan felt sickened and violated as he surveyed the state of his home. He made a half-hearted attempt to restore order then gave up. It was impossible to decide where to start. Even the wall calendar was ajar, as if the wise mother and her joyful brood had lost their taste for gravity. He gave up and took Ralph for a much-needed walk.
Upstairs at Spring Rolls, lunch hour was in full swing. Donny listened to Dan describe the previous night’s events as he struggled with his chopsticks. It was the only thing Dan had ever seen him look incompetent at.
“They did everything but crawl up my ass.”
“That would have been cosy.”
Dan cocked a baleful eye at him.
“And what were they looking for, do you think? Pirated DVDs? Stolen iPods? Teenage runaways?”
“I think they were looking for Craig Killingworth’s diary,” Dan said.
“Yeah — me too. Funny, that.” Donny raised a noodle to his face. It fell just before it reached his mouth.
Dan watched impatiently. “So — what did you think?”
“I read it.” Donny reached for a fork and speared a cut of chicken.
“And?”
“Deplorable, nasty, unsettling, sick. I wouldn’t wish his wife on my worst enemy.”
“But do you agree she was directly responsible for his suicide?”
Donny chewed contemplatively, buying time before he spoke. “I think Craig Killingworth sounds like a man who was desperate. A man who had tried to commit suicide once and failed, and might very well try again. But what good is it going to do you to track this down? Why not just hand it over to the family and be done with it? Before you get arrested for handling stolen property. Or worse,” he added darkly.
Dan stared in disbelief. “The family? Have you heard a word I said? The family is who I’m keeping it from!”
“Why can’t you just accept that the man changed his mind and went east instead of west? It wouldn’t be the first time a man living under duress made a snap decision. He was feeling pressured by his wife as well as his lover and he just couldn’t handle it. So he got on the ferry, crossed to the other side and disappeared down the road.”
Dan shook his head. “There are so many things that don’t make sense. He was leaving town on a bicycle without taking any of his belongings? Give me a break! And why not stay and fight it out?”
“The diary tells you why — he’d cracked. She’d won. He just gave up the battle, rode out of town on his bicycle.…”
“…and was never heard from again. Come on! You don’t believe that any more than I do.”
Donny held up a finger. “It’s not what I believe. It’s what makes sense for you to live with. That may be as close to an answer as you get. There’s no proof he’s dead. And if he is, there’s no proof she knowingly participated in his suicide or even that she handed him the razor blades and stood by and watched.”
Dan narrowed his eyes. “So what are you saying?”
“Think about why you’re doing this.”
Dan shook his head in exasperation.
“No, really,” Donny said. “If you go down this road any further, you’ll be stuck in a dead man’s world.” Dan grimaced at the words. “Whatever happened, it was his choice. If he died, he died by his own hand. It was terrible what she drove him to, but it’s too late to save him now.”
Dan looked out the window and watched the sprawl of traffic. The waiter gathered Dan’s empty plate and gave a look of contempt at Donny’s half-full one. Donny uncharacteristically waited till the man left before speaking again, this time in softer tones.
“Think about it. They’ve torn apart your house and threatened you with a lawsuit — which by your own admission you came close to deserving.” Dan glanced up sharply, but Donny silenced him. “Who’s the one person you’ve really been scratching around in the dirt trying to find all these years?” Dan shook his head. “Well, let me tell you, Daniel. That person is you. That’s who you really need to find. And before it’s too late.” Donny handed over the diary. “For now, I’d say you’re very lucky they didn’t find this.”
“Did you make the copies?”
Donny sighed and nodded his head. “Yes, I made the copies. I stood in Kinko’s for an hour and a half turning pages. You owe me big time again. Not to mention the mounting babysitting charges.”
He’d walked Ralph and was nearly ready to settle in himself. The phone rang and Ked’s excited voice cut through the wires. “Hey, Dad!”
“Hey, Ked. How are things at your mom’s?”
“Fine. She’s not as good a cook as you, though. When can I come home?”
“Not yet, but soon.”
Dan thought how much he’d missed his son in the few days they’d been apart.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on then?”
“Soon … real soon.”
“Is it some kind of secret mission you’re on?”
“Something like that. Listen, how’s school?”
“Good. Eph got an A+ in English. His paper on Blade Runner blew us all away. The teacher made him read it aloud in class. She said it was the best paper she’d ever had.”
Dan thought about this for a moment. “Why wasn’t your paper that good?”
“Give me a break! Isn’t it enough that I have a genius for a best friend? Do I have to be one too?” Ked thought about for it a moment. “He sucks at basketball, though.”
Twenty-Six
Restoration
Dan got up before six, in the dark. He called to leave a message for Sally saying he was taking a few days off and asking her to cancel his appointments. He set the diary on his desk in his calm, green-toned office. He’d thought long and hard about what he was about to do. He picked up the phone again and dialled the law firm that had requested him to find Craig Killingworth. He heard it ringing in someone’s empty office until the answering service picked up. He spoke slowly and clearly. He had proof of what happened to Craig Killingworth, he said, and would turn it over once the person who was paying him revealed him or herself, but not before. Fuck his job — he’d quit before he went any further without knowing who wanted him to prove that a man was dead.
He spent the morning restoring his home to some semblance of order. He discovered things he’d forgot he had, including a few knick-knacks going back all the way to his time with Bob. It was unsettling how physical objects brought back the past, as if it lay waiting around the corner and could return of its own volition at any time.
A solicitor called in the afternoon. His client had agreed to meet with Dan the following afternoon. When he hung up, Dan wasn’t a hundred percent sure which one it would be, but he had a pretty good idea.
He’d just sat down to supper when he was startled by the doorbell. Had the police returned? This time they would find Craig’s diary, if they had. He pulled the curtains aside carefully and looked out. At first it didn’t register. There was a gathering of small figures, including a miniature nun and several others wearing animal masks. He opened the door.
“Trick or treat!” they screamed.
He’d forgotten entirely. He went back in and scrounged around the kitchen, still very much in disarray. At first he couldn’t find what he wanted. Then he saw it, overturned and dumped on the shelf under the sink. It was intact. Even Ked hadn’t been able to find it. He returned to the porch and handed over his secret stash of K
it Kat chocolate bars.
The following day at three o’clock, Dan turned up at the coffee shop on College Street to find Ted Killingworth waiting. He looked much as Dan remembered — black turtleneck, rock star glasses, and a silver strand around his neck. Everything pricey. Everything annoying.
“Surprised?” Ted asked from behind the cobalt glare of his lenses.
“Should I be?”
“No. You’re a very smart man. That’s why I hired you.”
Dan waited. He wasn’t going to make things easy for Ted.
“I suppose you’re wondering why I hired you to find my father after all these years.”
“It’s not my business to know why.”
“No, but I have a strong suspicion that you find me a trifle on the despicable side.” Ted waited, but Dan gave no response. “I’d like very much to reassure you as to my motives.”
Dan nodded. “Shoot.”
“I spent years trying to understand why my father left, but I never found a satisfactory answer. Sometimes I hated him” — he shrugged — “mostly I hated him. But other times I wondered and even worried about him. Why didn’t he care enough to let us know how he was? The days of wondering are mostly behind me now, but I’ve been an addict for most of my adult life and I feel as though I’ve spent too many years paying for something that wasn’t my fault.” He removed his sunglasses. The dull glaze was gone. “For the record, I’m in recovery. At least that’s what they call it.”
Dan offered a smile, his first concession in Ted’s direction. “How’s it been so far?”
“The first week was like a year in hell, the second even longer. Some days it rains fire in my hands and back, other times I feel like I might implode.” He looked at Dan. “You’ve caught me at a vulnerable moment. I think that’s the reason I’m here right now.”
“You think that learning what happened to your father will undo some of the damage?”
“Maybe. At the very least I’m hoping it will give me some peace of mind.” Ted suddenly looked worried. “Will I be shocked by what you’ve found?”
“You might. What are you expecting?”
Ted considered this. “I don’t think he’s alive. I’d be very surprised if you told me otherwise. I never really bought the story that he left us for another woman. I think we would have heard from him eventually. I think something happened to him, but I don’t know what.”
“Your instincts were right. As far as I can tell, he isn’t alive. When I said I had proof, I meant proof of a sort. I can’t produce his body. As for why he left, it wasn’t for another woman.” Dan caught Ted’s glance and held it. “Your father was planning to leave your mother for another man: a gardener named Magnus Ferguson.”
Ted’s mouth gaped. He recovered quickly. “Okay, well — you’ve delivered on your promise to shock me. Can you prove it?”
Dan walked him through the evidence, explaining his father’s relationship with Magnus, the false charges concerning the assault on his mother. He brought out the letter Ted’s father had sent to Magnus the day he killed himself, laying it on the table as Dan explained what he knew and what he’d merely surmised.
Ted looked at it for a moment then looked away, marshalling his composure. “I assumed he was dead, but it never occurred to me that he might have killed himself.” He smiled ruefully. “I shouldn’t have had a hard time coming to that conclusion. Like father, like son. I’ve been trying to kill myself for years.”
Dan handed him the diary along with his father’s letter. Ted pushed them back across the table. “You keep them,” he said.
“I’ve got copies on file.”
Ted shook his head. His voice came out a crabbed whisper. “You keep them. I can’t bear to touch them.”
Dan returned the diary and letter to his case. “What are you going to do now?”
Ted looked out the window. “I’m going to tell her that I know.”
“You’ll destroy whatever relationships exist in your family.”
“I know,” Ted said, looking back at Dan. “It’s what I intend to do. At least I’ll have the satisfaction of knowing I’ve destroyed her in return. And I won’t stop there. I’ll make sure everyone she knows and respects hears what she did.”
“It won’t bring your father back.”
“No, it won’t.” Ted seemed to be considering this. “Is there any chance of reopening the case?”
“To bring criminal charges against your mother?”
Ted nodded.
“She could probably be charged with aggravated assault or causing mental anguish with intent to harm. Something like that.”
“But you don’t think it’s very strong.” It wasn’t a question.
“I’m not a lawyer, Ted. You’d have to ask someone better informed about such things. The diary and tape are pretty strong evidence, but there’s still no body. No proof.”
“She didn’t kill him with her own hands, but she might as well have. Why is there no justice for such things? All these years she let us think …”
“What? That he was alive? That he left because of another woman? Would it have made a difference if you’d known the truth?”
“Look at me!” The voice was quiet, but insistent. “Look at what I’ve become. This is what not knowing has done. She told me … she told me he left because he didn’t give a fuck about us. And I believed her. Thom and I both believed her. I spent twenty years believing it, and hating him for it, and this is what it’s done to me.”
“I understand. But you might want to think about it, all the same.”
“I’ll think about it.” Ted got unsteadily to his feet. “Believe it or not, I’m very glad to have met you.” He pulled on his overcoat and nodded at Dan. “It’s my birthday today,” he said. “I’m thirty-five years old. Time to start living.”
The door closed behind him. Avril Lavigne droned under the whir of a cappuccino machine grinding the coffee to strength. Dan was glad finally to be able to call the case closed. He hadn’t found Craig Killingworth, but what he’d found had brought the man back to one of his sons, at least. Where there had been a blackened reputation — shame and hatred and a damaged psyche — now there could begin the restoration of a proper memory, for whatever it was worth.
If and when the day came that Craig Killingworth’s bones could be scooped out of the bay, Dan thought, that part of him could be put to rest as well. Till then, at least, there was this small triumph to be thankful for.
Twenty-Seven
Goodbye, Again
A week went by, followed by another. He heard nothing further from Pete Saylor or Ted Killingworth, though every time his phone rang he half-expected to hear Larry Fiske’s oily rasp threatening him with legal action for his part in helping Ted confront his mother. Even if Ted said nothing to implicate him, they would know Dan had helped in some way to restore his father’s legacy.
Ked stayed on at Kendra’s for the time being, at least until Dan could be sure everything had returned to normal and there were no further risks to him or his son. One night he saw Bill out surrounded by friends at a crowded Danforth bar, but either Bill hadn’t seen him or he discreetly avoided looking in his direction till he left.
Dan had returned to his work, but most evenings he spent alone at home. He’d had enough of other people’s company for now. He seldom answered the phone, though the one time he did he was surprised to hear the voice of his former-neighbour, Steve.
“How are you?” Dan asked, genuinely pleased.
“I’m fine. Really well, Dan!” There was enthusiasm and warmth in the voice. It sounded like the old Steve again.
Steve thanked him again for having met with him that late night in the fall. It had made all the difference, he said. Just knowing there was someone who cared whether he lived or died had made him want to get back on his feet.
“Things are going better then?”
“Yes. I started back at work last week.” He paused. “And I’ve met someone … she�
��s fantastic!”
It was as simple as that, Dan thought. Steve’s real medicine was a new love. He suspected Steve had dependency issues among his other problems. Maybe you’re being cynical, he told himself. Stop searching for the cloud behind every silver lining.
Steve insisted on a get-together. He wanted Dan to meet his new girlfriend, who, Steve assured him, would just love Dan. Yes, she was that terrific. They chatted for a while and exchanged promises to hook up. Later, Dan walked Ralph and then turned on the television to pass the time. He’d just turned it off and gone upstairs to check his email when the phone rang again.
“Oh, god, Daniel,” he heard Kendra croak out.
His heart leaped into his throat. A dozen scenarios, all ending in Ked’s death, careened through his mind. “What is it?” He envisioned a photograph of his son beneath a headline outlining the city’s latest traffic fatality. Something to do with a faulty skateboard or a bicycle spoke left unmended that had caused a fatal spill.
“Something terrible’s happened to Ked’s best friend.”
“Who?” he said, uncomprehending. “Who is his best friend?”
Kendra’s voice shook. “A boy he goes to school with. I thought you would know who it is.”
Dan felt sick. “I can’t think right now. What happened?”
“It was a drive-by shooting. Ked’s friend was shot and killed.” She paused. “He’s very broken up. I don’t know what to tell him.”
Dan heard her speaking to Ked. “Sweetheart? Do you want to speak to your father?”
Dan waited while the phone was passed.
“Dad?”
“I’m here.”
Ked was whimpering into the phone. “Someone killed Eph!”
An image of the skinny black kid on the corner flashed before Dan’s eyes.
“We heard about it after school,” Ked said, breaking into sobs.
“I’m so sorry, Ked.”
Dan Sharp Mysteries 4-Book Bundle Page 33
