He fiddled with the keys, snapped ENTER, and a website swirled onscreen. They were back on Bélanger’s blog again. A skull-and-crossbones flashed across the screen. The entry had been dated the previous day, one day after the fire.
“What is it?” Dan asked.
Germ looked over. “Hold on, it’s coming.”
A handful of words flew across the screen and vanished. Dan’s eyes flew open wide. “What did it say?”
“I got Velvet Blue to translate for me,” Germ said. “It says, ‘Another pig got roasted tonight.’”
Dan felt a chill. He sank back in his seat, wondering if the chief of police had read this yet. “Okay,” he said at last.
The phone message was jarring. At first Dan couldn’t make out if it was good news or bad. Donny was keyed up to the point where he sounded out of control. He hardly ever got that way, but lately he’d changed. Whatever he’d been through had put him in a state of mind Dan rarely encountered in him. This is so unlike him, Dan thought. Was there nothing fixed in the world?
He scrambled to piece together the disjointed narrative. There seemed to be some biblical reference to Noah and his ark and another one about freedom. Finally, he grasped that Lester had flooded the bathtub in his family home, letting it overflow and scramming when the fire department arrived.
At least he hadn’t set fire to the house, Dan thought. He’d had enough incendiary incidents to last him a lifetime, but he was relieved to hear that Lester was safely back home and that Donny had not had to get involved.
At least one person had been rescued that day.
Twenty-Seven
I’m All Ears
It was going on noon. Dan debated whether to stop at Wendy’s or wait and eat at home. Wendy’s seemed too much of a diversion. He flipped down the glove compartment that had never held a pair of gloves, or socks either, for that matter. It occasionally became the repository for chocolate bars, but in summer that would have proved a sad liability, tithing both the chocolate and the time required to clean up the oozing mess. But perhaps a lowly granola bar lay in wait. He searched. Sadly not, in this case. Forbearance would have to be the better part of valour. Besides, there were healthier things like apples at home.
Ralph trotted out to greet him then quietly returned to the kitchen, where he spent his days lying in the sunlight that dappled the thick backdoor rug. He was nearing senior citizen status and seemed to be taking his retirement prospects seriously.
The light blinked on the answer machine. Dan pressed PLAY and a quiet voice leapt out: “Greetings, Mr. Trevor James, this is Andy from the Tile Place in Markham.” A pause ensued, as though Andy had lost his train of thought from information overload. Well, Andy, I know how that feels, Dan thought.
The voice revived. “Mr. James, sir, your special order is ready for pick-up at our Markham office.” Another pause ensued. “If you need it delivered, sir, please let us know, but we won’t be able to get it to you before Monday. Uh, sorry about that.”
The call clicked off. There were no more messages. Dan called to let Andy know he’d be picking up the special order for Trevor James that afternoon, to what sounded like immense relief on Andy’s part.
Dan thought about how little time he’d spent with Trevor lately. Was it a reflection on the direction their relationship was taking? If so, it was his own fault, Dan knew.
In the kitchen, a square brown envelope sat propped on the kitchen table, his name scrawled across the front. He looked it over. Something about it struck him as odd. He was already getting a bad feel. No reason, just bad.
He picked it up and turned it over. There was no address and no postage stamp. In which case, it would have been hand delivered through the slot in the door. The air seemed to buzz around his head. His hands shook as he opened it. A single piece of paper, folded once, fell onto the table. He recognized the pattern immediately. There were three of them. They didn’t look like fallen leaves this time.
Dan sat and stared at the photograph. This can’t be happening, he told himself, forcing the panic deep down inside himself.
He thought of the dried pig’s ears Ked sometimes brought home for Ralph. They were meant as a reward. This wasn’t a reward; it was a punishment. But for what? What had he done? How had this monstrosity got in here? He looked around the room, scanning for suspects. At that moment even the furniture looked ominous, the bookshelves seemed to harbour dark secrets.
“What the fuck are you trying to tell me?” he murmured.
He cocked his ears and listened to the rest of the house. No sound. He looked over at Ralph, who seemed to be enjoying the sun more than anything else in the world at that moment.
“All good, Ralphie? Everything okay here?”
The dog thumped his tail against the floor.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’”
He could have used one of Germ’s joints. Something to dull the immediacy of life right then. He thought how there seemed to be no fixed objects in his universe these days, only satellites and asteroids rolling around in deep space and threatening to fall back on earth, their orbits failing like everything else. He thought of Domingo’s injunction against Little Boy Blue: It’s like he doesn’t really exist. But someone had to have delivered this to his door. Dan thought about his current state of affairs. He felt as though he’d been out of touch with things for far too long. Maybe it was time to re-enter Earth’s atmosphere and burn himself up. He was like a man at a cosmic sideshow with the carny barkers yelling at him: Step right up, friend! Pick a gravity field, any gravity field …
Dan thought of the nearest next best thing. He grabbed the phone and dialled Trevor’s number, wanting to hear his solid, reassuring voice. That was as close to a centre of gravity as he got these days.
“Just checking in,” he said, when Trevor answered. His own voice sounded thick and tight. He tried for casual, trying to force himself to believe in normal, which at that moment seemed next to impossible.
“So everything went okay with the police this morning?” Trevor was saying.
“Oh, that. Sure!” Dan had nearly forgotten what had transpired in the past twelve hours. Everything had come down to a piece of paper sitting on his kitchen table. “Nothing to worry about. How are things with you? It feels like I haven’t had a moment alone with you lately.”
The conversation sounded so absurd he felt Trevor would suspect something for sure.
Trevor laughed. “I didn’t think you’d noticed.”
“I noticed. I’m sorry I’ve been so busy.”
“I’m feeling a little more relaxed about things these days.”
The deep tones sounded soothing to Dan’s ears. If only he could believe the words. “That’s good,” he said.
“Actually,” Trevor continued, “I’m glad you called. Kendra phoned earlier. She invited us for supper tonight. I told her I’d check with you first. She’s such a sweetheart.”
“Supper sounds good,” Dan said, still striving for something to help cement him back into the everyday. His voice was dull, wooden. “What are your plans for the rest of the day?”
“I’ll be here at the house.”
No! Dan wanted to scream. Don’t come back here. Then it dawned on him. The other house.
Trevor went right on, oblivious. “The cabinetry looks great. You’ll have to come by and see it when you have a moment. We’re fitting in the new bathtub this afternoon and tiling tomorrow. We’re actually a bit ahead of schedule.”
“That’s terrific,” Dan said. “In fact that’s why I was calling.” Liar! “There was a message about a special delivery from the Tile Place. They can’t get it out till Monday. I said I’d pick it up for you.”
“That would be very helpful. Thanks, Dan.”
Dan paused. “Oh, yeah … just one other thing. Did you leave the envelope on the kitchen table?”
“Envelope?”
“Brown manila?”
“No. It must have been Ked.”
&nbs
p; Dan’s heart lurched.
“Anything important?”
“Nothing that can’t wait for later,” Dan said. “Don’t let me keep you. What time is supper tonight?”
“Supper’s at six. Ked’s got a game this afternoon. He said he’d meet us there. I’ve got a full day too. I’ll probably go straight from here, if that’s all right with you.”
“No, that’s great. See you then.” He paused. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, Dan. See you tonight.”
The line clicked off.
Fear returned. In an effort to avoid its grasp, Dan turned and ran smack into the banister. He lost his balance, sliding to the ground and clutching his solar plexus. The pain was intense. He pictured Darryl Hillary’s ruined face staring down at him from the meat hook. You won’t get me, Dan declared to the unseen Bélanger. I have far too much to live for.
Then reason crept in. This was a threat from a sixteen-year-old. A desperate sixteen-year-old, but still,
he wasn’t a madman with an Uzi prowling the corridors of a high school picking off his victims. Dan simply had to avoid dark corners, not let himself get caught in places where someone could aim a crossbow or come at him with a knife. The police would catch him eventually. How long could an invisible kid steer clear of them? Rogue planets rolled around in his head until they crashed into some imaginary force field. He’d get through this, one solar system at a time.
The afternoon sun was blistering red as he headed west. He was travelling north of the city, around the Tenth Line. To Dan, it was all foreign territory up there. Everything looked the same: trees, houses, open space. No defining landmarks in a place where everything replicated itself perfectly. The outer limits. Surely he was a city boy if ever there were one.
He found the Tile Place, went in, and asked for Andy. A well-groomed, muscular young man came out beaming with confidence. Dan had expected someone soft and inefficient, someone he was prepared to feel sorry for in advance. Not this demi-god. Maybe the boy was phobic about phones. It takes all kinds, he thought. You could never tell about voices on phones.
Trevor had picked a plain tile, matching it with an intricate border that offset the colours nicely. Of course he would have done, Trevor was an expert. Not that Dan cared about tiles right at that moment. He just needed to focus on the small details to get through this day.
He paid Andy, smiling like a satisfied customer. Next he stacked the boxes in his trunk and headed for the highway. If he acted normal then he might feel normal. If he could feel normal then all might be normal. Or not. Tonight, he reminded himself, he was having dinner with his male lover and the mother of his child, a woman he’d never really dated, let alone married. There was going to have to be a new normal before he could claim any part of it.
In the distance, fields gleamed with giant orange bubbles, pumpkins ripening in the autumn sun. They made him think of the nursery rhyme: Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater … For other kids, it had been a simple tale embodying the absurdities of childhood in a ditty straight out of Monty Python’s Flying Circus or Doctor Seuss. For Dan it had always held ugly, sinister connotations: misogyny, imprisonment, cannibalism. Why hadn’t Peter been able to keep his wife? Maybe he was gay and couldn’t be bothered to fake it. Still, why put her in a pumpkin shell? Or maybe Peter was like Jack Spratt and just wasn’t attracted to his wife. Far better to put her in a pumpkin shell then.
But why cut off an ear?
He zoomed past the fields, well over the speed limit. Trying hard to forget. Trying to break the sound barrier and outstrip his life, leaving it all far behind him.
Candles flickered and sucked air when Dan opened the door, before settling back into place. He felt calmer just being there. Kendra came up to him, soft and flowing. He breathed in her scent as she kissed his cheek. Subtle, like cornflowers on a summer’s evening. Hers was a beauty hard to claim or pin down. It was elusive, always in motion. Her eyes carried a rare intelligence. Had he been a straight man, Dan thought, he would have fallen for her, but he never could have married her. Not simply because her Muslim family would have forbidden it, which they would, but because he would always feel outclassed by her.
He put her in a pumpkin shell …
Trevor lined up behind Kendra for a kiss as Ked came out of the kitchen to greet him. Maybe this was the new normal.
“Mom made lamb,” he announced.
“Well, aren’t you spoiled,” Dan said with a wink at Kendra.
Ked gave him a look. “It was for you guys, not me.”
“Actually, I made it for all of you,” Kendra said. “You’re all my special boys.”
Dan glanced around at this tastefully modern home. There were a few reminders of her Syrian upbringing, but these were trimmings on the package.
She had no problem breaking practices that didn’t suit her needs. She dressed from the pages of Vogue, readily imbibed alcohol, and ate what she pleased. Her television was poised on the W Network at all times, even when she wasn’t at home. Dating and sex were at her discretion. She would not be circumscribed by tradition.
Her one reservation, the one taboo she’d been unwilling to break, had been Kedrick. Kendra’s family knew nothing of his existence. It would have caused a permanent rift, she claimed. Dan felt that keeping them ignorant amounted to the same thing. It’s like Ked doesn’t exist, he thought. Kendra visited Syria every other year, letting her family believe she was upholding Islamic practice. The charade seemed not to bother her at all. In fact, it meshed perfectly with her elfin personality.
She ushered them into the dining room. The table was set with hand-woven cloth, delicate china, and gleaming crystal. Dan seldom saw her domestic side, but he knew she had one when required. Her cooking was always top of the line. He joked that she could have had the best Middle Eastern restaurant in the city, if she’d wanted. But she was a businesswoman at heart and clearly wasn’t ready to give up her career.
Dishes arrived from the kitchen, bringing the scent of stewed figs, dates, apricots, almonds. Dan sipped soda and looked around the table at his family. Nothing could be allowed to threaten this, he told himself. Everything was going to be fine.
He was momentarily distracted from his thoughts. Kendra was looking at him questioningly.
“Are you with us?” she asked.
“What? I’m sorry.”
“You were in La-La Land again,” Trevor told him.
Kendra smiled and shook her head. “I swear sometimes he doesn’t hear a thing I say.”
Dan looked at her laughing face. “Sorry. What did I miss?”
“I asked how work was going. How are you managing without your regular salary?”
“Oh, that.” He shrugged. “It could be better.”
“I’m afraid I haven’t been much help,” Trevor said.
“You are a big help,” Dan insisted. He turned to Kendra. “He’s doing all the work on the new house singlehanded. Just having him in my life is reward enough. I don’t know how I managed without him.”
“Ah, so sweet,” Kendra said.
She caught Dan’s eye and nodded to the kitchen. He excused himself and followed her.
“You’ve really changed, Daniel. I’ve never seen you so sweet on anybody before.”
“I know. Is it sickening?”
“Not at all. I think it’s time you opened up your heart to someone. He’s a wonderful guy, so good for you.”
She handed him a dish. It was the prelude to something, he could tell.
“I don’t know if Ked mentioned his date to you yet …”
“Date? No, nothing.”
She smiled. “He will. He’s a bit shy about it, so try not to make a big deal out of it when he does.”
Dan made a face. “Are you saying I make a big deal out of things?”
“No!” She swatted him with a dishtowel. “I’m just warning you not to make any jokes.” She giggled. “He doesn’t want you to be disappointed that he’s interested in girls.”
“Oh, that. We talked about it before. I thought he knew I was fine with whatever he does.”
“He does. Sort of.” She shrugged. “He will be. You’re the centre of his universe, Dan. He does everything to please you.”
“I know. It’s a bit hard trying to live up to the legend some days.”
“Cut it out. I don’t think a kid could have a better father, frankly.”
Dan smiled “If it hadn’t been for your brother …”
“I know, I know. You weren’t exactly my type, either. But it was a happy accident.”
They went back out to the dining room.
Supper proceeded apace. Eventually, Ked brought the subject around to his upcoming date. Dan listened to his plans for taking a young lady out to a movie the following evening.
“Any questions?” Ked asked when he’d finished, as though he’d just given a term report and was expecting to be grilled.
Dan’s eyes darted to Kendra then back to his son. “Just one. How old is Elizabeth?”
Please let her not be too young, Dan prayed.
“She’s, um, sixteen,” Ked said quietly.
“Sixteen?” Dan repeated.
Ked nodded, looking apprehensive. “Is that all right?”
“An older woman,” Dan said, relieved. “Yes, it’s fine. It’s terrific. I hope you enjoy yourself.”
Ked gave him an awkward smile. “Thanks, Dad.”
Dinner resumed. Dessert was brought out on trays, silver spoons handed out, cups and saucers extended. As much as he tried to shake it, Dan’s working class upbringing was never far off, always under his skin in one form or another. Yet here he was, tonight, having this very cosmopolitan dinner at an elegant dining table, eating Middle Eastern food with his teenage son, the woman who had given birth to him but whom he had never married, and his male lover. It was so far away from anything he’d been raised to expect. At times it was hard to say what was real and what a dream.
He looked across at this disparate gathering of people who were so important to him. He was filled with a sudden joy at how his life had turned out. To have all this, and love too. At times, it seemed too much. He wouldn’t allow himself to think that it might be taken away from him again. He wouldn’t allow himself to think about an envelope left at his front door with a threatening image of severed ears.
Dan Sharp Mysteries 4-Book Bundle Page 62
