The Gifted

by Gail Bowen

  Zack slapped his forehead. “Margot called. She has a present for Lena.”

  “And, Mimi, we were wondering if you could please bring us some of those banana milkshakes you make.”

  “I’m partial to those milkshakes, too,” Zack said.

  “Duly noted,” I said.

  Margot met me at the door with a gift bag. “This is a regift. Lena will understand. Make sure you tell her it’s for keeps.”

  “Gotcha,” I said.

  “I guess you heard the latest about Lauren Treadgold.”

  “She came to see me this morning.”

  “How’s she doing?”

  “About as well as could be expected.”

  “Between BlueBoy21 and Lauren’s home movie, there’s not much of Julian Zentner we haven’t seen,” Margot said dryly.

  “Agreed,” I said. “But I have a feeling that there’s a lot about Julian that we still don’t know.”

  Margot sighed. “Poor Lauren. My mother used to say that there are people who are like broken glass. Get close to them and prepare to bleed. It seems Lauren is in that category. Tell Lena I’ll come by and see her tonight.”

  “No, you won’t,” I said. “Hospitals are full of nasty bugs. Wait till Lena’s home and you two can visit to your heart’s content.”

  Margot yawned. “Sold. I am pretty tired these days. Jo, I have a huge favour to ask. Could you and Zack handle this business with Lauren? I think she’s savvy enough to distance herself from the project for a while, but someone should talk to the other members of the team and make sure nobody does anything indiscreet with the video.”

  “Of course,” I said. “We’ll keep you posted.”

  ——

  It was close to eleven when I arrived at the hospital carrying a large thermos of banana milkshake, four thermal glasses, and a pretty gift bag containing Lena’s surprise from Margot.

  I handed Lena the bag. “So how’s everybody doing?”

  “Good,” Lena said. “Except, Maddy, can you help me with my present? This cast is heavy.” Maddy took the gift bag, dug through the tissue, and pulled out the plainest doll I’d ever seen.

  Lena was beaming. “That’s Poor Pitiful Pearl. She was Margot’s doll when she was little.”

  “Well, now she’s all yours. Margot said to make sure you knew that Poor Pitiful Pearl is yours for keeps.”

  Mieka had e-mailed Lena’s teacher to let her know what had happened and Mme LePage had replied with a list of the assignments her class would be completing during the week ahead. After the milkshakes were finished, Zack began organizing the assignments. Math was first. When Madeleine was in Grade One, Zack had read the Ministry of Education’s curriculum goals. The primary goal was to make every student believe he or she was capable of making sense of mathematics. Zack taught Madeleine how to play blackjack, and she aced Grade One math.

  Math was Zack’s strong suit and no one could argue with success. Zack explained the rules of blackjack to Lena, welcomed me to the game, and the four of us began to play.

  We played for Cheerios. Madeleine was good with cards and Lena was a quick study. Zack and I both lost Cheerios bigtime, but Zack was gracious in defeat, commending the girls on their brilliance and warning me to be wary of card sharks.

  Lena decided it was time for a real nap, so I tucked her in with Pearl and Madeleine, and Zack and I moved to the corner of the room where we could talk. “Vince stopped by while you were at the condo. He hadn’t seen the video, and he didn’t want to see it. However, he was curious about who could have, and would have, sent it out.”

  “Lauren believes Vince did,” I said. “She thinks Vince was redressing the balance, making himself the injured party.”

  Zack scowled. “Vince doesn’t think like that. Besides, he seems to be handling the situation with Lauren well. He told me his AA sponsor reminded him to hang on to the line about acceptance in the Serenity Prayer.”

  “ ‘God grand me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,’ ” I said.

  “That’s the one,” Zack said. “Vince seems to have filed Lauren’s infidelity under the category of things he cannot change. He had no reason to send around that video.”

  “Julian did,” I said. “This morning Lauren told me that she has to get a substantial settlement from Vince to subsidize her life with Julian.”

  “And Julian doesn’t want to share his life with Lauren?”

  “No. According to Celeste, he wants to end the affair. I imagine that video strengthens Vince’s hand when it comes to discussing alimony.”

  “It does indeed,” Zack said. “But if Vince pays minimal alimony and Julian slips from Lauren’s clutches, you and I will have a problem.”

  “Julian will be free to pursue Taylor,” I said. “And we can’t let that happen.”

  “No, we can’t. But let’s take it one step at a time. I called Vince and told him Lauren was desperate to talk to him. He said he’d think about it. Vince is a proud guy. He’s not going to jump just because Lauren tells him to.”

  “I realize that she’s brought a great deal of this misery on herself, but I feel sorry for her. Lauren left her scarf at our place this morning. I was thinking that I’d take it to her. Whether Vince responded to her request or not, she might be glad to have someone to talk to.”

  Zack rubbed the back of his neck. Instinctively, I moved behind him to measure the tension there. His muscles were like rocks. “Tonight’s a long-swim, mutual-massage night,” I said.

  Zack covered my hand with his. “How did we manage to catch the brass ring?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “But I never stop being grateful.”

  At noon, Mieka arrived with sandwiches and drinks and we had a picnic. She volunteered to take the afternoon shift, but Zack said that he and the girls were at a pivotal point in Charlotte’s Web and besides he was growing fond of Poor Pitiful Pearl. After Mieka left, I kicked back in the recliner, put unfaithful wives and troubled young men out of my mind, and listened to the rain and my husband’s deep, lulling voice. It wasn’t long before I drifted off.

  I left the hospital around three-thirty. We were having Madeleine’s favourite macaroni and cheese for dinner, and the casserole was already thawing in the fridge. There was a neighbourhood grocery store not far from the Treadgolds that sold vegetables and fruit that were truly fresh, and I planned to shop before I went to Lauren’s. I had tried calling her from Lakeview Fine Foods to tell her I was coming by with her scarf, but when there was no answer, I decided to take my chances, hoping I wouldn’t walk into an uncomfortable scene between her and Vince.

  The rain had grown heavy enough to slow traffic on Albert Street. By the time I approached the Treadgolds I was barely moving. When I glanced towards their large, modern house, I knew immediately that there was a problem. The front gate was wide open. So was the door. I pulled over and began walking towards the open gate. At that moment, the salukis streaked out of the house and headed for freedom. I stepped up my pace and made it into the yard just in time to close the gate behind me. “Take it easy,” I said to the dogs. “Slow down. You can have a run, but you’re not going anywhere.”

  I walked up the steps and through the open door into the entranceway. When I called Lauren’s name, there was no response. I kicked off my boots and walked into what realtors would call “the great room.” It was a cold and imposing space: two stories high with a cathedral ceiling. The colour scheme was stark and dramatic: black and white with accents of red. The fireplace and the floor tiles were black marble. Lauren was lying on the hearth. BlueBoy21 was propped against the mantle, so close to Lauren that if she had been alive, she could have touched it. Her head was haloed with blood. I knelt beside her and felt for a pulse. I wasn’t surprised when there was none.

  I took out my cell. My hands were trembling so badly that I dropped the phone. When I picked it up, I dialled 911. Then I called Zack, told him that Lauren was dead, and he needed to get hold of Vince and break the n
ews. Zack was adamant about coming to meet me. I was equally adamant about him staying at the hospital. Vince needed him, and there was nothing he could do at the Treadgolds. The weather had turned ugly. Driving conditions were terrible, and the thought of Zack trying to navigate his chair through the freezing rain scared me. After I finally convinced him to stay at the hospital, I went to the doorway to wait.

  The EMT crew was first through the gate, followed closely by two young police officers. “We had a report that a woman at this address has been assaulted,” one of them said.

  I stood aside. “She’s in the living room,” I said. “I found the body.”

  “And your name is …?”

  “Joanne Shreve.”

  “Stay where you are, Joanne,” the young cop said. “We’ll have questions.”

  Another squad car pulled up. The officer who’d asked my name came out of the house, spoke to the officers who’d just arrived, then walked over to me. “We’ve called Animal Control to get the dogs,” he said. “They can’t go back inside. It’s a crime scene. Inspector Haczkewicz from Major Crimes is on her way. She’ll want to talk to you about your connection with the dead woman.”

  It didn’t take Debbie Haczkewicz long to show up. Despite her closeness to Zack, when she was on the job, Debbie was all cop. Nonetheless, when she spotted me there was real concern in her eyes. “Are you all right, Joanne?” she said.

  “I will be,” I said.

  “Good. I have your contact information on file, so why don’t we sit in my car where it’s quiet and you can tell me what happened here.”

  When we got into Debbie’s car, she sighed. “Ah, that’s better,” she said. “We’re dry, we’re warm, and nobody’s going to interrupt us.”

  Debbie listened without comment as I explained what I’d found when I walked into the living room of the Treadgold house.

  “Were you and Lauren Treadgold close?” she asked.

  “No,” I said.

  Debbie’s gaze was level. “Yet you stopped by her house. Had she invited you over?”

  “No. Lauren called this morning and asked if she could come by our condo. She was upset and she wanted to talk. When she left, she forgot her scarf. I was concerned about her, and returning the scarf seemed like a reasonable excuse for checking up on her.”

  “What was Ms. Treadgold upset about?”

  “A sex video that someone had e-mailed to the Racette-Hunter working team. Lauren and Vince Treadgold were both members of the team. It was of Lauren with Julian Zentner, the young man who modelled for the painting that’s propped up against the mantle, near Lauren’s body.”

  “Curiouser and curiouser,” Debbie said evenly. She finished the entry in her notebook and marked it with a star. “Joanne, could you come back inside with me for a few minutes. We’ll need a formal identification of the body so we can get in touch with Ms. Treadgold’s next of kin.”

  As I walked with Debbie towards the house, my legs were leaden. More police had arrived. All were wearing their slickers. Debbie and I were pushed through the front door by a powerful wave of yellow Gore-Tex.

  Everyone’s attention was centred on the area in front of the fireplace. The police were photographing the body from every angle, bagging and labelling evidence, dusting for fingerprints. As they changed positions, I caught glimpses of Lauren’s body on the floor. She, too, was in yellow – the yellow Mondrian-patterned tunic she’d worn the morning of our meeting after the art auction. Bloody pawprints patterned the black marble tiles.

  It took an effort of will to look down again at the woman on the floor. “That’s Lauren Treadgold,” I said, then looked quickly away.

  Debbie led me to the edge of the area where the police were working and pointed out a bloodied rock on the marble tile near Lauren’s head. “That appears to be the murder weapon,” Debbie said. She pointed to a large glass bowl filled with rocks not far from the fireplace. “We can’t be certain, of course, but logic would suggest that the rock came from that bowl.”

  “Lauren’s stepdaughter told me that Lauren brought home rocks from all the places where she and Vince vacationed,” I said. “Apparently, Lauren wrote the rock’s origin on each rock. If the rock that killed Lauren has a place name on it, I guess you can assume it was one Lauren brought back as a souvenir.”

  “That’s useful, Joanne. Does anything else strike you as noteworthy?”

  “The position of the painting,” I said. “I doubt very much that Lauren would have placed the painting of Julian against the mantle. She was hoping to speak to her husband today.”

  Debbie pounced. “About what?”

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  “So many questions,” Debbie said. “For example, why would Vincent Treadgold buy a painting of his wife’s naked lover in the first place?”

  “It’s complicated.” I turned so that Debbie and I were facing each other. “Debbie, I’d better not say anything more until Zack’s with me.”

  Debbie’s blue eyes bored into me. Finally, she realized that I wasn’t about to be swayed. “All right,” she said.

  “May I go now?”

  “Of course.” She walked me to the door, and for a moment we stood together gazing out at the pounding rain. “No matter how often I see cruelty like this, it still makes me furious,” she said.

  “That’s why you’re good at your job,” I said.

  CHAPTER

  9

  The streets were a skating rink. By the time I got into the hospital parking lot, my already frayed nerves were raw. I was cold, wet, and miserable.

  Zack was waiting in the corridor outside Lena’s room. He held out his arms to embrace me.

  “I’m soaked through,” I said.

  “I don’t care,” he said. He folded me into his arms. “I’m so sorry you had to go through this. Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Is someone with Lena and Madeleine?”

  “Mieka’s in there playing Crazy Eights with them. What’s the situation?”

  “Lauren was murdered. Someone hit her skull with a rock and placed BlueBoy21 near her body.”

  “Oh, Jesus.”

  “Debbie was there. Zack, I told her that Julian was Lauren’s lover. I figured she’d find out anyway, and I thought it was best to be open about what we knew.”

  “But not too open.”

  “No, when Debbie started asking me about why Vince purchased the painting of his wife’s naked lover, I told her I couldn’t say anything more until I was with you.”

  “Smart call. But Debbie’s shrewd, she’ll see the juxtaposition of Lauren’s body and the painting of Julian as a message from the murderer.”

  “I killed her because of this boy,” I said.

  “And we know where that arrow points,” Zack said.

  “Straight at Vince.”

  “Right,” Zack said. “But we could catch a break. The police could discover evidence of forced entry or theft,” Zack said. “Then they’d have to shift their focus to their database and start hauling suspects in until they find the murderer.”

  “And you could start believing in Santa Claus again,” I said. “Zack, I don’t think the story’s going to play out that way. The door to the Treadgolds’ house was wide open, and except for the area where Lauren was found, the living room appeared to be in order. Nothing was overturned or broken.”

  “Okay,” Zack said. “For the time being we’ll rule out ‘person or persons unknown.’ What about Celeste? I know you like her, but Celeste has a short fuse and her relationship with Lauren was turbulent.”

  “Celeste is a troubled young woman who acted impulsively and recklessly.” I said. “But you’re the one who says we’re all better than the worst thing we do. That’s certainly true of Celeste. I don’t know her well, but I do know that she’s a better person than the text message to her father would indicate. As soon as Celeste realized the consequences of what she had done, she accepted responsibility and sought to make amends.”
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br />   “And that leaves Julian,” Zack said. “The one person neither of us wants to consider. But no matter how we rearrange the cards, Julian is at the centre of this. Much as we hate it, that means Taylor is involved. Lauren was determined to hold on to Julian, but he wanted something more. If Lauren threatened to go to Taylor, Julian might have been desperate enough to kill Lauren.”

  Zack made a fist and punched the palm of his other hand. “The idea of Taylor being connected with this in any way makes me sick.”

  “I don’t want Taylor anywhere near this mess either,” I said. “But we have to tell her about Julian’s involvement. She won’t make it easy. Taylor’s loyal. She’ll find excuses for him.”

  Zack turned his chair towards Lena’s room. “Let’s go home. You need to get out of those wet clothes and into a hot shower. After that, we’ll talk to Taylor.”

  “What about Vince?” I said. “Shouldn’t you be with him when the police tell him that Lauren’s been murdered?”

  “I should be with him, but I can’t find him. I’m hoping that means the cops can’t find him either. I’ve been leaving messages, but so far no response.”

  “In that case, let’s say goodbye to Mieka and the girls and head for home. Vince has your cell number.”

  Vince called just as Zack and I were waiting for the elevator. When he broke the connection, Zack turned to me. “Vince didn’t mention Lauren, so I’m guessing the police haven’t talked to him. I’m going to meet him in the doctors’ lounge. I can be there in two minutes. Jo, I may be a while. You know I want to go home with you and towel you off after your shower, but Vince can’t afford a misstep.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I said. “Taylor’s probably up in her studio painting; Margot’s right across the hall, and I think I can figure out the towelling-off thing.”

  Taylor had left a note on the table. She and Declan had gone to a movie. She’d be back to help with dinner. A long hot shower and dry clothing helped me feel human again, and I’d just made tea when Taylor walked through the door. I poured us both a cup, then we sat at the butcher-block table and I told her about Lauren Treadgold’s death. Taylor hadn’t known Lauren well. She was saddened, but her concern shifted quickly to me and to Julian. I assured her that I was fine, but that the police would probably be interested in Julian.