by Gail Bowen
“The wedding took place at four o’clock. Lee was maid of honour and Simon spent more than four hours in a canoe on the lake watching the ceremony. When the wedding was over, he left. Lee stayed the night with my parents.”
After Angus finished, Inspector Lovitz flipped the page in his paper notebook. “Do you know of other enemies Lee Crawford might have had?”
“Yesterday Lee showed me printouts of some antagonistic emails she’d received about the referendum,” Angus said. “And she kept a log of hostile phone calls. I didn’t pay much attention to the email addresses, and most of the callers were anonymous. You can see the emails for yourself, Inspector Lovitz. Lee kept meticulous records of everything she dealt with.”
“Was she afraid of the people who attacked her?”
Angus narrowed his eyes in concentration. “She seemed more perplexed than afraid. Lee was an idealist. She believed people are good, and that, if we had the will, we could work out our differences.”
“Is there anything you’d like to add?”
Angus shook his head. “No, not at the moment.”
“Inspector, there is something else,” I said. “At the rehearsal dinner the night before the wedding, Lee asked Zack and me if we’d been the object of what she called ‘pranks.’ She’d been on the receiving end of some very unpleasant practical jokes, and she wondered if they’d been politically motivated.”
“Did she suspect anyone in particular?”
“She didn’t mention a name,” Zack said. “As soon as Joanne and I told Lee that we hadn’t been targeted, she said, ‘I guess it was just somebody with a warped sense of humour.’ I urged her to report the incidents to the police. Lee said she’d think about it. At that point the wedding planner corralled the members of the wedding party to practise something and the subject was dropped. I should have pursued it. Lee had given Joanne and me enough specifics about the ‘pranks’ to alarm us both.”
“Fill me in,” Inspector Lovitz said.
As Zack described the incidents, the inspector’s pen flew. His face was stony, but Angus was clearly disturbed.
“Inspector, Lee never told me about the pranks,” he said. “I know she sloughed off their significance with Mum and Zack, but in retrospect, they could well have been warnings. I think whoever pulled those stunts was working up to killing Lee’s birds. After the birds were buried, Lee said that the person who killed them was capable of anything.”
“Do you believe that if we find the person behind the ‘pranks,’ we’ll find Lee Crawford’s killer?” the inspector asked.
“I think you’ll be close,” Angus said.
Lovitz peered at Angus intently. “Do you believe Simon Weber could have pulled the pranks and killed Lee’s birds?”
Angus paused and looked towards Simon, who appeared as wasted and still as a man could be. Then, meeting the inspector’s eyes, my son said, “No. Simon may be sick, but he’s not cruel, and he’s not a killer.”
The inspector closed his notebook without comment. “That’s all for now. You know the drill, Mr. Kilbourn. Keep us informed of your whereabouts. As we learn more, we’ll have other questions.”
When he turned to leave, I stopped him. “Inspector, there’s something else. I was at a CPG meeting at Lee’s this morning around ten-thirty.”
Inspector Lovitz opened his notebook again. “Go on,” he said.
“There was friction at the meeting, and it centred on Lee. She was uncomfortable with the public perception that she was the leader of the group.”
Inspector Lovitz raised an eyebrow. “She was no longer in support of your husband’s bylaws?”
I shook my head. “It wasn’t that. Lee’s commitment to the cause was firm. She didn’t want the fact that she had become a public face to make the group vulnerable. A YouTube video Lee posted of her dead birds has been getting a lot of attention. Lee said that she was going to take it down.”
“And others in the group opposed her decision?”
“Yes.”
“Can you identify them?”
“I was only there for about half an hour,” I said. “I don’t know what went on after I left. Every meeting has tensions; most of the time, they’re resolved by the time the meeting ends.”
“But during the time you were at the meeting, there were people who opposed Lee Crawford’s decision to take down the video?”
“Yes. Piper Edwards, the city councillor for Ward 4, was adamant about keeping the video on YouTube, but by the end of the meeting she might have changed her mind.”
“Who else was at the meeting?”
When Inspector Lovitz had written down the names I gave him and the role each had played in the meeting, he started to close his notebook again.
“There’s someone else you should talk to,” I said. “When I left the meeting, Slater Doyle drove in. Slater’s handling Lancaster Development’s campaign against the bylaws. He made a disparaging remark about Lee. He said that the beasts of the field and the air aren’t the only creatures St. Lee of Assisi has gathered to her breast.”
The beginning of a smile curled Inspector Lovitz’s lips but he suppressed it. “So Mr. Doyle implied that he had information about Lee Crawford’s sex life that would damage your campaign?” he said.
“Yes,” I said. “But when he realized Lee had company, Slater said he’d delay his tête-à-tête with her till she was alone.”
The inspector offered me a wintry smile. “You’ve been very helpful, Ms. Shreve.”
“I want Lee’s murderer caught,” I said. “Inspector, Maisie and Peter won’t be able to make it back here until tomorrow night at the earliest. The animals will have to be taken care of until then. Lee’s fiancé, Bobby Stevens, has helped Lee with chores in the past …” The realization that Bobby didn’t know about Lee hit my husband, my son, and me simultaneously. Mute, the three of us stared at one another. Finally, Angus reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and took out his phone. “I have Bobby’s cell number,” he said. When Angus stepped away to make his call, I took out my phone. “I’ll call George Sawchuk,” I said. “He’ll know someone who can handle chores.”
The inspector scowled. “We can’t have people tromping all over the place. This is a crime scene, Ms. Shreve.”
“The animals don’t know that,” I said.
George had known Lee since she was a child and he was heartbroken at the news of her death, but he said he’d do chores tonight and work with the neighbours to take care of the farm until Maisie and Peter returned.
Angus had been on the phone for at least five minutes, but when he rejoined us, he said that he hadn’t been able to get through so he was going to stay at the farm till he connected with Bobby. During Inspector Lovitz’s questioning, Esme had been whining and straining at the leash. It was clear she was desperate to be with Lee. I turned to Zack. “You and I should get back to the city. I know neither of us has the stomach for dealing with the fallout from this, but we’ll have to make some decisions. Inspector, we’ll take Lee’s dog with us. Esme will be miserable, and she’ll be a distraction for your officers.”
Zack raised his eyebrows, but he didn’t object. He got into the driver’s seat and started taking apart his chair. Angus and I coaxed Esme into the station wagon and closed the tailgate. I hugged Angus goodbye. “How are you doing?”
“I’m okay.” He kneaded his temples. “I still can’t believe this. And every time I think about Bobby …”
“I know …,” I said. “Call if there’s anything we can do.”
Zack finished stowing his chair in the back seat. “Does Simon have a lawyer?” he said.
Angus swore softly. “I must have had my head up my ass. I should have called somebody.”
“You were dealing with a lot,” Zack said gently. “I’ll get Asia Libke. She has no connection to Falconer Shreve. She’s smart and perceptive. She’ll know how to protect Simon.”
I managed to get in touch with Peter just as we came to the city
limits. It was the most painful call I’d ever made, and I knew the grief had just begun.
Angus phoned not long after I had talked to his brother. “Asia just arrived. Apparently, she and Simon knew each other in law school so she’s confident he’ll trust her. Bette Stevens is here too. As soon as she heard the news about Lee, she came over. She’s hoping she can get a call through to Bobby and break the news to him before he shows up here.”
“That makes sense,” I said.
“It does. Ms. Stevens is pretty shaken up herself, but she says the best place for her son right now is at their farm. I’m going to check with Asia and if there’s nothing I can do here, I’m coming to your place. I don’t want to be alone right now.”
Zack and I were making dinner when Angus arrived at the condo. “We’re having bacon and eggs,” I said. “Interested?”
“Thanks,” Angus said, “but what I’d like is one of Zack’s martinis.”
“I didn’t know you drank martinis,” I said.
“I’ve never had one,” Angus said. “But today seems as good a time as any to start.”
“There’s a pitcher in the fridge,” Zack said. “I’ll get the glasses. Your mother and I will join you.” Zack poured the martinis and we settled in the living room.
“So what do we know that we didn’t know earlier?” Zack said.
Angus took a gulp of his first martini and grimaced. “That’s a body slam,” he said, putting down his glass. “Well, there is news. Bette Stevens talked to Bobby. She didn’t tell him what’s happened, just that there’d been a family emergency, and she needed him to come home as soon as possible.” He swirled the drink in his glass. “I know I’m a coward, but I’m grateful Bobby’s mother is taking charge.”
“Bette’s been running her farm since her husband died,” I said. “She’s strong, but Lee’s death must be excruciating for her too,” I said.
“I asked Bette to call if there’s anything I can do.” Angus’s tone was derisive. “As if there’s anything anybody can do now.”
Zack wheeled closer to Angus. “How’s Asia handling Simon’s situation?”
“Carefully,” Angus said. “Asia suggested to the RCMP that her client spend the night in the psych ward, and they wisely agreed. My guess is they have him on suicide watch.”
“Is he talking yet?” Zack asked.
“Yes,” Angus said. “And he specifically asked me to tell Lee’s family what happened. Asia cautioned him, but Simon was adamant. He swears that he did not kill Lee.”
“So what’s his story?” Zack asked.
“According to Simon, sometime after three this afternoon, he got a text from Lee saying, ‘I’m hurt. I’m in the barn. Help me.’ ”
“Was he sure the text was from Lee?”
“It was from her phone,” Angus said.
“Whoever killed Lee could have used her phone to send the text,” I said.
“Yeah, I guess. Simon says he drove out to the farm, and when he got there, Lee and Gabby were both on the barn floor, motionless and bleeding. He says he tried to resuscitate Lee and that he put his head on Gabby’s chest to listen for a heartbeat. That’s why he was covered in blood. When he realized they were both gone, Simon snapped. He remembers seeing me walk into the barn, but he says he wasn’t aware until then that he was washing the blood off himself in the trough.”
“And you believe him?” Zack said.
“I do,” Angus said. “And if you’d seen Simon, you would have believed him. When he was talking about what happened, he was reliving the moments. I hope to God I never see anybody in that much agony again.”
Zack and I exchanged a look. Remembering the suddenness with which the anger and darkness swallowed Simon the morning of the wedding, I rubbed my wrist. There was still a faint bruise on one of the places where his thumb had pressed my flesh.
Like all of us, Taylor was devastated by Lee’s death, but she had apparently decided it was up to her to shepherd us through the terrible evening ahead. She helped with dinner, insisted on clearing the table herself, and suggested that we watch Blazing Saddles together.
The choice was significant. Taylor and Angus had watched Blazing Saddles together a dozen times. During dinner Angus had been unreachable, but Taylor knew that if anything would, the film’s new-sheriff scene would draw him out. Taylor sat beside Angus on the couch, and as Cleavon Little rode into town, she reached over and squeezed her brother’s arm. He smiled, and I knew he’d taken the first step on the road back.
When the credits rolled, Zack clicked off the movie. “It’s time for this day to be done,” he said. He wheeled over to Angus. “How are you doing?”
“I’m dented,” Angus said, “but I’m okay. If it’s all right with you guys, I’ll stay here tonight. I’m beat and I don’t want to go back to my apartment.”
“This is a night to be together,” Zack said. He held out his arms and Angus leaned down to be embraced.
At sixteen, our daughter still liked us to say goodnight to her in her room. That night she had left the door open, and she was perched on the bed surrounded by pictures of the heritage birds she’d taken the day we visited the Brokenshire farm. She held out a closeup of a Blue Andalusian. “I’d never seen that shade of blue before,” she said. “Look at the way he holds himself. He’s an aristocrat, and he knows it. I’m going to paint Lee’s birds.” Taylor’s voice was steely. “That way everything won’t be lost.”
We kissed her and then Zack pointed his chair towards the stairlift. As always, I waited at the foot of the stairs with Pantera until Zack had made it safely to the top. But that night, Esme waited with us, and as I started upstairs, she stayed at my side.
When Zack and I settled into bed, Pantera sprawled on the floor beside Zack and Esme flattened out on the floor beside me.
Zack wrapped me in a hug. “I take it Esme’s not just here for a sleepover.”
“No. She belongs with us.”
For a few moments Zack and I were silent, absorbed in our private thoughts. “I’m glad when Lee walked into that barn she knew Angus was coming back to the farm to make moussaka for supper,” I said. “And I’m glad she and Angus were planning to watch a movie together till Bobby came home.”
“The miracles of everyday life,” Zack said, drawing me closer. “We’re never grateful enough, are we?”
“No,” I said. “We never are.”
CHAPTER
7
Tuesday morning the wind shuddering against the windows awakened the dogs and me. The view from the bedroom window was not encouraging. A sky dark with clouds threatened rain, and wind whipped the graceful forsythias on the lawn behind our condo. Esme had whimpered most of the night, but when I began donning the clothes I wore for running in wet weather, and Pantera lumbered to the bedroom door, Esme got the picture. I opened the door, and both dogs hit the stairs. Angus emerged from the guest room, yawning and scratching his head. “I guess I’m in for the run,” he said.
“It’ll do you good,” I said. “Clear your head.”
Before we left, I checked on Taylor. She was sleeping, the photos of the heritage birds still scattered on her bed. When we got off the elevator we found Brock in the lobby stretching. He winced when I told him about Lee’s death. He had not known her well, but Lee’s fervent desire to protect the land had impressed him, and as he took Pantera’s leash, I could feel his grief. Angus felt it too, and he tried to lighten the mood. He reached for Esme’s leash. “Mum, I can’t remember you ever running without a dog,” he said. “Are you up for the challenge?”
“Always,” I said, opening the door to the street. Brock and I stepped outside, but when Angus tried to follow, Esme wouldn’t budge. He coaxed her and I handed him a treat, but she was stubborn.
Finally, I held out my hand. “She can come with me,” I said. As soon as I took the leash, Esme trotted off like a show dog. For most of the run, she and I led the pack, while Pantera followed along behind with the men. The rain started af
ter we’d run ten blocks, but we carried on, mud-splashed, wet, but invigorated.
Zack had the coffee on and the towels ready when we got back. Brock joined us to help with cleaning up and feeding the dogs. The humans were all relieved to be distracted.
Peter had called when we were running. He and Maisie had managed to book a flight that would get them back to Regina by four in the afternoon. The day loomed, and it was going to be a doozy. Zack had already talked to Milo. He was on his way over. We agreed that after Angus, Brock, and I had showered and changed, Angus would head for Falconer Shreve and Brock would come back to our place for a breakfast meeting with Milo, Zack, and me. There was only one item on the agenda: come up with a way of dealing with a death that was on the cusp of being transformed from a personal tragedy into a headline news story.
It was 6:45 a.m.
Among Milo’s many strengths was the fact that nothing fazed him. When he came through the door and a one-hundred-and-ten-pound bouvier, whom he’d never clapped eyes on before, checked him out, he let Esme sniff, then bopped into the kitchen.
“We’re in for a rough ride,” he said. “Lee Crawford’s murder has become national news. Over one hundred thousand people have watched her YouTube piece on the dead birds.”
“Lee was planning to take that video down,” I said. “I guess she changed her mind.”
“Either that or somebody made sure she ran out of time,” Milo said tightly. “But that’s a job for the cops, and we have our own situation. There’s some scary stuff going on in tweetsville. People are calling Lee a martyr, a woman who was prepared to die to protect a way of life. Some are blaming Lancaster for her death. And Lancaster is fighting back. They’re suggesting that there was a side to Lee that was very different from her public image and that her own actions might have brought about her death.”
“Which is tantamount to accusing Simon,” I said.
