More Than Sorrow

by Vicki Delany

  I didn’t say the words, just smiled politely.

  But Marlene was never one to let things lie. “I suppose it gives you something to do, Hannah. The days must get quite long and boring. Things are different from when I was a girl. I remember the time I broke my arm. My dad insisted that I still did my chores and help Mother around the house as best I was able. We didn’t believe in all this modern mollycoddling back in my day. Don’t work; don’t eat, my father always said.” She looked at me, expecting a retort.

  I didn’t care enough to bother to reply.

  “Did you know that they uncovered six tombs at Tillya Tepe, but didn’t have time to open the last two before the war, and when they went back everything had been looted?” Lily said from the doorway. She had her book in her hands, open to a colorful illustration. “Why would people steal stuff like that?”

  Joanne had warned her not to bring Maude’s book to the table, so Lily had bolted her breakfast and run into the living room to continue reading.

  “Shouldn’t you be getting ready to go?” Marlene said. She turned to Joanne. “Lily’s old enough to help around the farm. You shouldn’t be wasting money on that day camp. My father expected us to put in a good day’s work on summer vacation.”

  The morning didn’t get any better. The police were soon back. They arrived in three cars. Two cruisers and one plain black SUV. Two officers took Liz and Allison out to the greenhouse to interview them, one more time. Jake tried to argue, fuming about having to pay his workers when they weren’t working, and Joanne tried to calm him down. Jake was not in a good mood when Sergeant McNeil said she needed to talk to him again. He muttered something about wanting compensation for the loss of work time and the damage to his crops. She replied that if he’d prefer they took everyone down to the police station, that could be arranged.

  She ordered Joanne not to leave the house, and she and Jake went into the office and shut the door. They were there for a long time. Marlene hovered and made excuses to stay, and eventually Joanne almost ordered her to go home. She left, in full snit.

  “Is she always so difficult?” I asked. “Or is it me that gets under her skin?”

  “She’s never been easy. Nothing she loves more than to climb up onto her high horse. She was so excited when Jake and I bought this house. I do think she wanted to take up residence as dowager lady muck. It’s not even her old family property, it’s her husband’s. Like many families around here, the Stewarts had their ups and downs over the years. For a while, back in the mid-nineteenth century, they were quite well off. Marlene thinks we should continually remind people of that.” She grimaced. “She’s hoping we’ll find some valuable things in the attic that will get her on the Antique Roadshow. She loves that program.”

  “Nothing up there but letters and farm accounts, from what I’ve seen.”

  “Yeah, Jake did check.” Joanne let out a long puff of air, sounding much like one of the horses. “Marlene’s a good grandmother, I’ll give her that. The children love her. Her and the long-suffering Ralph. They’ll always help out when needed. After a lecture about how things were done in her day.”

  Joanne did not look well. She’d been up late last night, sitting with Maude, and out of bed at her usual time this morning. She saw me watching her and tried to smile. “This isn’t good. I’m sorry for Hila, I really am. I want the police to catch whoever did it, but why couldn’t it have happened in winter, when we aren’t so darn busy? If we don’t get today’s produce to the restaurants in time for them to start lunch, they’ll consider us unreliable. And today’s CSA day.”

  “I’ll help you with the restaurant deliveries, when the cops are finished here. I’ll call the CSA people and explain. They’ll understand.”

  My sister eyed me.

  “I want to help out,” I said, “when I can.”

  “When you can,” she repeated. “That’s the problem isn’t it? You never know when you’re going to be struck by a headache.”

  “I usually have some warning.”

  “Usually.”

  The office door few open, and a black-faced Jake stormed out.

  “Ms. Manning,” O’Neil said to Joanne. “I’d like you to come into town with me.”

  “What the hell!” Jake whirled around.

  Color drained from Joanne’s face. “You must be kidding me. I can’t do that. I have to take my daughter to summer camp. And pick up her friend on the way. We’re already late.”

  “Your husband will have to do it.”

  “Are you nuts? My wife has work to do. Why can’t you talk to her here, like you did with the rest of us?”

  McNeil glanced at me. I was sure it was involuntary. She didn’t want to risk me listening in while she was talking with Joanne. I didn’t know why, but figured that wasn’t good.

  “Are you arresting her?” Jake demanded.

  The children had come into the hall, attracted by the noise. Charlie began to cry. Lily looked from one adult to another.

  “Please look after your children, sir,” McNeil said. “Your wife is not under arrest, but I have my reasons for wanting to talk to her in a private, secure place. Now, shall we go? Or would you prefer that I formally detain you, Ms. Manning?”

  “Look,” Jake said. “This is nuts. I told you I didn’t see Joanne the afternoon Hila disappeared. That means nothing. We don’t live in each other’s pockets, you know. I don’t see your husband following you around when you’re working. Joanne was busy around the farm, like she always is, right Joanne?”

  “You can’t think…” Joanne’s voice broke. She coughed and said, “Lily, Charlie, off you go with your dad. It’s always so busy around here, I’ll enjoy getting away for a few hours. I’ll grab a latte in town later.”

  I slipped my hand into Charlie’s small one. His backpack was slung over his shoulder. I took him into the kitchen and found the bagged lunches Joanne had prepared. “Here you go, big guy,” I said. “Lily, come get your lunch. “

  The children did not look at all appeased, but they did as they were told.

  I led the kids outside and Jake helped them into his truck. None of us looked as Joanne climbed into the back of the police vehicle and O’Neil pulled away.

  At least she didn’t put the lights and sirens on.

  ***

  We passed the remainder of the morning in an agony of unease. Jake dropped the kids off at their respective day camps. He ordered Connor and Liz to make the restaurant deliveries, but his mind clearly wasn’t on giving instructions, and I suspected that some of the restaurants would end up having to scramble to rearrange their menus.

  I went into the office and phoned the CSA holders. Fortunately Joanne kept their records in a neat folder—names and numbers hand-written—so all I had to do was dial one number after another. I explained, quickly and succinctly, that police investigation in the vicinity of the farm had impeded work for a couple of days, but their boxes would soon be ready and I’d call again.

  I hung up before the person on the other end of the line could get in a single question.

  It was dark and cool and quiet in the office. Jake had gone out to the fields, and Allison was busy in the greenhouse.

  I debated calling my own mother. She’d be absolutely furious if I didn’t let her know what was going on, but I hoped I’d have better news soon. Besides, she had a full schedule of patients and hospital rounds of her own. My dad wasn’t teaching over the summer, but he’d gone for week’s fishing trip to the Nahanni River. A long way away.

  Wandering into the kitchen, I dropped into a chair at the table and idly leafed through the book Lily’d left there. The ancient treasures of Afghanistan. Pages and pages of photographs of stunningly beautiful, priceless things. Many of them gone now, smashed by the vindictive Taliban or by mindless looters. A legacy of over two thousand years, d
estroyed in minutes by uneducated thugs and religious fanatics. In my head, Omar remained still.

  I’d been told by every doctor I’d seen that it was important that I stayed quiet and calm while my brain worked to heal itself. “Don’t let anything upset you,” one fool had said. As if I, or anyone, could control what upset us and what did not.

  Leafing through this beautiful book, remembering Hila, thinking of my sister being marched off to the police station, all that upset me.

  Yet Omar stayed away.

  Maybe a good upset was what I needed.

  I was preparing lunch, thinking it best to continue with the routine, when I heard a car in the driveway. I ran through the house to the front door. It was a police car, a cruiser. A uniformed officer was in the front with Joanne beside her. The officer stayed in her seat while Joanne climbed out. My sister slammed the door and walked to the house, her head high, her neck stiff. She did not look back.

  I wrapped my arms around her. The patrol car backed up, turned into the road, and sped away.

  “All okay?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll call Jake. Let him know you’re back.”

  “Not right now. I have to talk to you first.”

  “What about?”

  She let out a long sigh. “They think you killed Hila, Hannah.”

  “Who cares what they think. I didn’t do anything of the sort. You know that. Don’t you?”

  “Of course. That Sergeant, McNeil, her questions were all about you. What you’d done on Thursday and then again on Saturday after you found Buddy with the scarf.” My sister studied my face. “I couldn’t tell her, Hannah. I don’t know where you were or what you were doing.”

  “So? You have a farm to run. No one expects you to be hovering over me all day long. I hope you told her that.”

  “I did. She asked what you’d told me you were doing. I couldn’t answer, Hannah. Because you haven’t said.”

  I took a deep breath. “Joanne. My head doesn’t work right, okay. That’s why I’m here. That’s why I’m not in my own home or out doing the job I love. I don’t sleep for days on end and then I fall asleep at the strangest moments. Sometimes I feel exactly as I did before the explosion, and decide I’m ready to go back to work. Sometimes I don’t even know who I am. I stand beside myself, wondering who is that strange woman who could stand to put on a bit of weight and get some exercise and pull herself together. And for god’s sake do something about that ragged mess of hair and put some make up on.” I wiped at my eyes.

  Joanne was crying also. She wrapped me in her arms and we clung to each other.

  “I might not be able to account for where I am all the time,” I said when we pulled apart, “but I know I didn’t kill anyone. Certainly not Hila. I cared about her a great deal.”

  “I’m sorry. I guess I just needed to hear that. It’s not fun, being interrogated. Everyone stared at me when I came in. Lucille Roszak, who’s one of our CSA shareholders, works at the police station. She won’t tell anyone, of course, but she knows I’ve been questioned.”

  “You guys okay?” It was Allison, standing at the office door.

  “No,” Joanne said, “but we’ll live. What’s up?”

  “Nothing. I saw you were back and came to check, that’s all.”

  “This is such a goddamned mess.” Joanne rubbed her hands through her hair.

  “Everyone’s feeling it,” Allison said. “My friend Jodie works at the hospital. She’s a receptionist in the ER. She said a patient refused to let Doctor Mansour treat her yesterday.”

  “What?”

  Allison nodded. “It was a local. Jodie said she’s seen her around town. She came into the ER with a bad cut on her hand, a kitchen accident. She wouldn’t let Doctor Mansour touch her, insisted on another doctor. She said she wanted a Canadian doctor, not some unqualified foreigner.”

  “I hope they told her to go home and treat herself if she’s so darned fussy.”

  Allison shrugged. “I didn’t hear how it turned out.”

  “I just want this to be over,” Joanne moaned. “What are you working on now, Allison?”

  “Harvesting lettuce seeds.”

  “Better get back to it then, hadn’t you?”

  “Okay.”

  When she was gone, I said, “I’ll call Jake. Let him know you’re back. He’s so worried he sent Connor to do the restaurant deliveries.”

  The edges of Joanne’s mouth turned up. “I’ll go out and find him myself. I know Jake’s been sniping at you, but I love him, Hannah.”

  “And he loves you back. I can see that.”

  “Did the kids get away okay?”

  “Yes.”

  She stopped at the entrance to the kitchen and looked back at me. “A man was there, Hannah. I didn’t know who he was or what to think, but I didn’t like him.”

  “A man? Where?”

  “In the interview room at the police station. Sergeant McNeil asked all the questions. He stood in a corner, watching and listening. He didn’t say a word.”

  “She must have said his name and rank or position when she began the recording.”

  Joanne shook her head. “I don’t think so, but I could be mistaken. I was confused, upset. Frightened.”

  “Rick Brecken? The guy from CSIS? He’s been here with the cops.”

  “No, I remember Brecken. This guy was big, tough looking, with a bald head and small black eyes, and a vicious scar down his right cheek. He’s either dark skinned or has a heavy tan. He didn’t say a single word, Hannah. Just looked at me. I thought…”

  “What, what did you think?”

  “I’ve never seen him before in my life. Yet for some reason I thought he hated me.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  They came after lunch.

  Connor and Liz and Allison came in to eat, but Jake and Joanne did not. I hoped they’d found a quiet private place where they could talk. Lunch was a gloomy meal. No one said anything more than pass the mustard or thank you.

  I pushed lettuce leaves around on my plate and thought.

  The man who’d watched the police interrogation of my sister bothered me a great deal. He sounded like one of the men I’d met in the course of doing my job.

  One in particular.

  Journalists and security officials don’t always see eye-to-eye.

  He might have not had anything to say to Joanne, but I was pretty sure he, whoever he was, had orchestrated the whole thing. They had, I suspected, taken Joanne to the station, instead of interviewing her here at the farm like they did everyone else, to rattle me.

  Me, they’d have trouble badgering. All I had to do was call my doctor, and she’d put an end to it. I was still on the paper’s payroll, and I’d have access to their lawyers who’d shut down any fishing attempts on the part of the police fast enough.

  Liz and Allison finished lunch and went back to work, and Connor carried the dishes into the kitchen. “Everything, okay?” He asked me. “I saw Joanne heading toward the back fields, so I guess the cops didn’t…uh…detain her.”

  “Arrest her for the murder of Hila, you mean. No they didn’t.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that, Hannah. It’s got us all spooked. Cops poking around all the time. People in town are talking about nothing else. Do you know why they wanted to talk to Joanne?”

  “They couldn’t interview her here properly,” I said. “Not with her children around and all that goes on during the day. They wanted some privacy. That’s all.”

  “If you say so. Do you have any ideas yourself? About what might have happened, I mean?”

  “Me? Heavens’ no.”

  “It’s gotta be terrorist sympathizers.” Connor leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his
chest. His blue eyes burned with anger. “A threat, maybe, to any Muslim who tries to settle in the West and become Westernized.”

  “I can’t see it. I haven’t noticed any swarthy Middle-Eastern men around here lately, peeking out from behind bushes.”

  “Don’t be naive,” he said. “They don’t have to be dressed in salwar kameez and keffiyehs to be terrorists. Plenty of homegrown ones, Canadian and American and British. They look just like us, many of them. Jake’s mom’s right. We don’t need them or their ancient squabbles here. Shouldn’t be letting them into our country; they’ve made enough of a mess of their own.”

  I wasn’t about to get into an argument. Hila hadn’t brought her country’s problems here. She just wanted to live a quiet life and be left alone.

  Or did she?

  What did I know about what Hila wanted or did not want? All I knew is what she’d told me, and what Grant Harrison had said about her father. Maybe she was involved in Afghan politics up to her neck.

  Could this have been a political killing?

  “I don’t know, Connor. Right now I just want it to go away.”

  “I’m sure it will,” he said in a kind voice, his eyes on my face.

  “How are you finding the trailer accommodations?”

  “Great. No one cranking up the music at two a.m. and yelling at me to come join the party. Nice to roll out of bed and walk all of five yards to work.” He shifted his feet and hesitated. Then he looked up abruptly, into my eyes. “Maybe…uh, some night after supper you can come out and get me and we can go for a walk or something. Would you like that?”

  I felt heat rising in my face. I must have turned a brilliant red, the color of one of the ever-bearing strawberries sitting in a bowl on the counter. “A walk. Yes, that would be nice.”

  “Good.” He returned his attention to the floor, an embarrassed grin turning up the edges of his mouth. “Take care of yourself, Hannah. You don’t look too well. I’d better get back out there.”

  I was starting to feel my lack of sleep and knew I’d better lie down before Omar roared to life. The office door slammed as Connor let himself out, and I was heading for the stairs, thinking fondly of my bed, when the doorbell rang. Suspecting it was Connor, back with another invitation for a ‘walk’, I hurried to answer it.