Shallow End

by Brenda Chapman

  Sandra looked up and the bit of happiness in her face made Jane’s breath catch. “You’re welcome, sis,” Sandra said before standing with effort and picking up their plates. “How about I get us some of that dessert to go with the rest of the wine?”

  “Perfect. You’re spoiling me though. It’ll be hard going back to my own cooking.”

  “You never could master putting a meal together.” Sandra rolled her eyes and laughed. “I never could figure out how you got by in life….” Her voice trailed away and she turned her back to scrape their plates into the recycling bag.

  I couldn’t figure it out either, obviously, or I wouldn’t be living in a student apartment, working in the Sally Ann, and wondering if I’m ever going to see my kids again.

  “Well, I’m still standing.”

  Jane reached for the bottle and refilled their glasses.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Monday, exactly one week after Devon Eton’s body was found at Murney Point, the homicide team got down to business with renewed purpose. Bedouin and Morrison took a few officers to complete the door-to-door canvass that had been started the day before. They remained hopeful of finding a witness they’d missed on the first go around even though the odds were getting slimmer with every passing hour. Woodhouse and Bennett returned to Devon Eton’s school to re-interview classmates and teachers while Kala and Gundersund started their morning by driving together to the Etons’ to finally interview Devon’s younger sister, Sophie. Hilary Eton had confirmed by phone that they were back from their trip and waiting at home for the officers to arrive at eight thirty.

  “Sophie needs the kid glove treatment so you have the lead on this one,” said Gundersund. “I’ll try to get the parents to give you some space.”

  “I have a feeling that won’t be easy.”

  “Maybe they’ll be less intense since it’s been a week for them to absorb what happened to their son.”

  “Or their rage will have grown because we haven’t arrested Jane Thompson. I can understand their hatred for the woman.”

  Mitchell Eton yanked open the front door before they had a chance to ring the bell. He filled the doorway dressed in a navy suit, the tailoring expensive enough to hide his square bulk. His black hair was glistening with gel and combed back from his broad forehead. Kala could see by the set of his mouth and the fire in his dark eyes that a week hadn’t been long enough to mellow his anger.

  A car pulled up and idled at the curb. Kala and Gundersund turned and looked at the same time as Mitchell said, “I was hoping to see you before my cab arrived. I have to catch a shuttle to Toronto, so Hilary will take the interview with Sophie.” He stooped and picked up a satchel on the floor next to him. “Sophie is still fragile so please go easy on her. Hilary isn’t doing much better. If I didn’t need to be in Toronto today for an emergency board meeting, I’d be here to help them through this. I suppose it’s no use asking, but I’ll be returning late afternoon if you could postpone until then? I phoned the station but you’d already left.”

  “We wanted to speak with you as well, but we can come back another day for that. We’d prefer to speak with Sophie and your wife now.”

  Mitchell looked inside the house, appearing undecided. He took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. “Go easy on them,” he said again, and stepped aside to let them into the hall. “Hilary had a heart attack two years ago and stress is the last thing she needs. If this meeting wasn’t about a takeover of my company, I would not be going. I’ll be doing my damnedest to be home by five.”

  Gundersund and Kala walked unescorted into the living room, where they found Hilary and Sophie sitting on the couch. Sophie’s long white-blond hair was loose and she reminded Kala of a gangly colt, all leg and knobby knees under a pleated skirt. Hilary was again dressed in black and looked marginally less distraught than on their last visit, but not by much. Kala pulled a chair closer so that she sat directly in Sophie’s sightline. She asked, “How are you both doing?”

  Sophie looked at her mother. “We’re okay.”

  Hilary squeezed Sophie’s hand. “We’ll be having a celebration of Devon’s life on Friday afternoon. Just family and closest friends. Mitchell and I decided against a funeral.”

  “That will bring some comfort.” Kala crossed her legs and folded her hands on her thigh. “Sophie, can you tell me about last Monday?”

  “I went to school.”

  “Did you see Devon in the morning?”

  “No, he had football practice and left before I got up.”

  “Were you in contact in the afternoon?”

  Sophie looked at her mother. Hilary took over responding. “He tried to reach her but they never met up.”

  “Is that correct, Sophie?”

  “Yes. He wanted … he wanted to meet me but I had to stay at school to speak to my teacher and she kept me late. I never saw him.”

  Kala had interviewed a lot of witnesses over her career and knew the tells when someone was lying. Sophie’s breathing had changed and her voice was higher and shallower than before, the physical responses to a change in her heart rate and blood flow. She’d raised a hand to her throat, an automatic response that people did when trying to protect themselves. The repeated words and sudden movement of her head toward her mother were further tells. Kala asked, “Why did Devon want to meet you?”

  “We … we were … we were going to go shopping. Mom’s birthday is coming up and he said that we could pick out a gift together.”

  “Where were you supposed to meet?”

  “At the park.”

  “But he didn’t show up?”

  Sophie nodded.

  “Did he let you know he wouldn’t be coming?”

  This time, Sophie shook her head and looked down at the floor. Kala glanced at Hilary, who was sitting motionless with lips pursed and eyes staring straight ahead. She knows that Sophie is lying. Kala asked Sophie, “Were you worried when he wasn’t home when you got there?”

  “I thought he might be with Charlie.” Her words were barely above a whisper.

  “Did you tell your mother that he hadn’t come home when he texted you that he would see you in a few minutes?”

  Sophie shook her head again. Hilary could have been made of stone, her body so rigid and still.

  “How did you get along with your brother?”

  “Fine. He was … out a lot.”

  “Anywhere in particular?”

  “I don’t know. With Charlie, I guess.”

  “Do you like Charlie?”

  “Yeah, he’s okay.”

  Kala was running out of ideas and patience. She looked over at Gundersund. He flipped a page in his notepad before asking, “Sophie, do you hang around with Charlie, or Tiffany, perhaps?”

  Sophie turned her head and met his eyes. Kala saw panic in her expression. “Tiffany is a year older than me. We have nothing in common.”

  Hilary stirred from her catatonic state and put an arm around Sophie’s shoulders. “Devon and Charlie were friends, but we didn’t have anything more to do with the family.”

  Gundersund nodded as if this was what he’d known all along. “Your husband said that you’ve been ill, Mrs. Eton,” he said. “How is your health now?”

  “Mitchell worries too much. I’m still on medication but that will probably be for the rest of my life. My doctor says I’m to resume all normal activity.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. Well, we won’t take up any more of your day, but we’ll be keeping you up to date on the investigation. We have counselling services if you’d like us to arrange a visit. I know that we offered this before, but maybe you’re ready to consider speaking with someone now.” He looked at Sophie and back to Hilary.

  “No, I don’t think that will be necessary.”

  Kala said, “Sophie might benefit …”

  �
�I said we’re fine.” Hilary’s voice hardened, much like the tone of voice she’d used when she snapped at Mitchell.

  Kala studied her for a moment and said, “We understand, but know that we have help on hand if ever you should need it.”

  Caroline Russell phoned at lunchtime and set up a place for Kala to meet Dawn after school on Wednesday. The foster parents were fine with the meeting, but nothing could be arranged before mid-week. Kala added the time and place to her electronic calendar. Wednesday was two days off and she would try to put the visit out of her mind until then; otherwise, she’d be climbing the walls at the thought of Dawn floundering in foster care for even one more hour.

  Gundersund stopped by her desk. “Rouleau wants to see us in his office.”

  Rouleau was speaking on the desk phone but he waved them in. He made his apology to the person on the other end and hung up. “The forensics report is in. Devon Eton was hit in the back of the head with a blunt object three times and died from massive hemorrhaging at the base of his skull. Time of death was between ten and midnight Sunday evening, although closer to eleven is the most likely time.”

  Kala looked up from her notepad. “No blows to other parts of his body?”

  “No. The other marks on his body came from being in the elements overnight. Forensics says that identifying the object is difficult but it was broad and rounded.”

  “Any drugs in his system?” Gundersund asked.

  “Traces of marijuana and about the legal limit in alcohol.”

  “So not impaired.”

  “Not legally. He was healthy and fit. Nothing else of note except maybe that he’d eaten chips and peanuts but nothing else since lunch.”

  “It sounds like he was in a bar,” said Kala.

  “The officers had no luck finding the one he was in if so, but I agree that he does appear to have been in a bar by his stomach contents.” Rouleau handed them printouts of the report. “I’m joining Heath shortly to ask the public if anyone remembers seeing him that night, particularly in a pub. Bedouin and Morrison will be back on the phone lines tomorrow. I’ve got other officers on the lines for the rest of the day.”

  “He was supposed to meet his sister in the park but never showed up, according to Sophie. She went home and thought nothing more of it,” said Gundersund.

  “I don’t think she was telling us the entire truth,” said Kala.

  “It’s too bad you couldn’t interview her without a parent present. She might have done something after school that her parents didn’t know about, like meeting up with a boy. Kids of that age don’t like to share with their parents,” said Rouleau.

  “I know, but the mother wasn’t pressing Sophie to tell us everything. They both seemed to be hiding something, in fact.”

  “What’s your next move?”

  Kala looked at Gundersund. “We need a strategy meeting.”

  Gundersund checked his watch. “I have an appointment with the computer techie in a few minutes to go over what they found on Devon’s machines. Do you want to sit in? We could start strategizing afterward.”

  “That’s okay. The computer debrief won’t take two of us. We can connect later.”

  She waited until Gundersund left for his meeting before grabbing her jacket and going to get her truck from the parking lot. She had an idea that this witness might speak to her alone without Gundersund present. If nothing came of it, he’d never have to know.

  From her vantage point across the street from the school, Kala spotted Tiffany Hanson clumping down the front steps a few metres behind a group of boys. She was wearing a black hoodie over tight black leggings and high-top runners, slouching away from the school property and lighting up a cigarette halfway down the street. She let the cigarette dangle from a corner of her mouth while she checked her cellphone as she walked with head down. Kala looked back toward the school entrance and debated waiting for Charlie to appear or chasing after Tiffany. The opportunity was too good to pass up. She got out of her truck and raced after Tiffany’s retreating figure.

  “What the hell?” Tiffany clutched her chest. “You scared the crap out of me.” She glared at Kala through eyes smudged in kohl, once again sporting the startled-raccoon look.

  “Sorry about that. Can I walk with you for a bit?” Kala put her hands into her jacket pockets and fell into stride with Tiffany.

  “What’re you doing here?” Tiffany glanced sideways at her and then back at her cellphone. She flicked her lit cigarette onto the street.

  “I was at the school checking on a few things when I saw you leaving. How are you doing?”

  “Fine.”

  “I imagine you must feel bad about Devon.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He was best friends with your brother and always hanging out at your house. He might even have felt like another brother.”

  “Are you kidding me? Devon was not like my brother.” She smiled for the first time. “There’s only one Charlie Hanson, if you haven’t noticed.”

  Kala smiled back. A small connection that lessened the tension. They kept walking. Kala said, “I’ve been trying to understand Devon and Charlie’s friendship. Who would you say was the leader between the two?”

  “I don’t want to talk about my brother behind his back. Especially not with the fuzz.”

  “Do you know what they were fighting about before Devon left the school?”

  Tiffany stopped walking and turned to look at her. “Are you trying to pin this on Charlie, because I can tell you that he didn’t kill Devon. He didn’t have the guts no matter how he acts.”

  “I’m not trying to blame this on Charlie. I’m trying to figure out what was going on with Devon that day. He was supposed to meet his sister, Sophie, and never showed up.”

  An odd look crossed Tiffany’s face before she turned and resumed walking. She started picking up speed and Kala quickened her pace.

  “What is it, Tiffany? Any detail or bit of insight could help us to find Devon’s killer. Are you friends with Sophie?”

  “No, we aren’t friends. I wasn’t friends with Devon either and I don’t care that he’s dead. Maybe you should arrest me. Mom tells me often enough I’m going to end up locked away if I don’t shape up and get better grades. I’m riding the rails to hell.”

  “It’s normal to try things out at your age. You strike me as a smart kid.”

  Tiffany turned her head and stared at Kala. “Yeah, I read that you were homeless in your teens. A drunk. What was that like?” Her face was impossible to read behind the black eye makeup and thick foundation. Her lips were tight together in a shimmery white line.

  “Not something I’d recommend.” Kala might have resented the question from someone else but could see that Tiffany wasn’t trying to be rude. Real curiosity lay behind her question.

  “Did you turn tricks or what?”

  “No, I just drank. Cheap whiskey was my beverage of choice.”

  “But where did you get the money to buy booze?”

  “Panhandling. People are amazingly generous if it means they don’t have to think about you for the rest of their day. Running away from home is a tough go, Tiffany. It’s better if you can make things work with your mom.”

  “I guess.”

  They were nearing an intersection and Kala thought about turning back to get her truck. She’d likely missed Charlie and had somewhere else to be. Tiffany started talking before she had a chance to say goodbye.

  “My dad drank, too, but he didn’t know when to quit. The diabetes and alcohol gave him a heart attack and put him into a coma.” Tiffany shoved her middle finger skyward. “And then he died.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, me too. He was a good guy in spite of being hammered half the time.”

  Kala touched her on the arm. “I’m heading back to my truck. If I give you
my personal cellphone number, will you promise to call me if you’re thinking about a residence change or need to talk something over? I’m a good listener … even if I am the fuzz.”

  Tiffany stopped walking and clicked a few keys on her phone. She looked up. “Okay, give it to me.”

  Kala dictated the number while Tiffany typed it into her address book. “Here’s my business card, too, with my work number. Leave a message on either voice mail and I’ll call you back as soon as I can.”

  Tiffany shoved the card into her jacket pocket. “You might regret giving these to me. I could sell them to a telemarketer.”

  “I hope not. I’d have to come and find you.”

  “Good luck getting me to confess.”

  Kala jogged back the way she’d come. She passed several groups of students but saw no sign of Charlie.

  Evening darkness was settling in earlier with every passing day, and while Kala liked the changing of the seasons, she wasn’t looking forward to another long, wet winter in Kingston. In the North, once November arrived and snow covered the forest, the frozen temperatures lasted until spring. In Kingston, a week of minus thirty could be followed by a week of rain. She would never get used to the vagaries.

  The sun was hovering above the buildings and the wind had died to a ripple when she found a parking spot on one of the side streets a short distance from Jane Thompson’s apartment. She got out of her truck and cut across the streets until she was behind Jane’s building. Jane was still at work and would be there until seven, according to the officer who was following her. He said that he was off duty at five but was confident she wasn’t free to go anywhere in those two hours. He’d checked with her supervisor who’d confirmed her hours.

  Kala had driven home before arriving at Jane’s and picked up Taiku. She’d stopped to buy a burger on her way back into town and ate it in the truck, giving half to Taiku before she left him stretched out on the front seat of the locked truck. She approached Jane’s apartment building from the rear. The property had a small yard surrounded by a high wooden fence that didn’t have a gate. The only way in was through the back door of the apartment building. She backtracked along the properties, checking for something to help scale the fence. Three houses down, someone was building a fence and she spotted a stack of boards off to the side near the garage, easy enough to reach unseen. She borrowed a sturdy-looking plank and carried it back to the yard, leaning it at an angle against the fence and carefully climbing until she reached the top. She pulled herself over and dropped into the yard, landing on all fours. She stayed crouched and checked to see if anyone had seen her. Music blared from the bottom apartment but nobody appeared in the windows. The second floor apartment, which she knew to be Jane’s, was in darkness.