Jan smiled. “That depends where you keep your paintings. I found your name in the art museum’s loaner catalogue, and I’d like permission to photograph some we’re interested in for set dressing. You and Mr. Harder have quite a collection of late-nineteenth- and early-twentieth-century Rocky Mountain art.”
“Not Don. He only liked the tax receipt when one was donated. Those paintings are mine, from my first marriage. We split up the collection when we divorced. What do you want to see first, paintings or rooms?”
Jan spent the next half hour taking photos, video, and measurements of rooms and hallways, with Mrs. Harder adjusting blinds and lamps to capture various states of light and shadow. One bedroom could work as it stood: walled in old pine, with knotty wood bedside tables and bedframes, beds covered in homey patchwork quilts. She praised its authentic feel.
The woman turned away with a shudder. “My husband liked it. He died in here.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. Was it recent?”
“A few years. I didn’t have the money to get it redone, so I have to look at it every day and remember how much pain he was in. Do you mind if I leave you?”
“Not at all. I’ll be finished soon.” Jan got several shots from various angles, walked through slowly with her video camera, measured it with her laser ruler, and then found her hostess in the living room. Log walls and square ceiling beams supported wagon wheels; they’d fit the movie. The big windows overlooking the river were modern but could be disguised with drapes or other movie magic. “Now,” she said, when she’d recorded all that the movie people might need, “may I look at your artworks?”
“Sure. Which paintings did you want, again?” Mrs. Harder showed Jan into the single-person elevator and took the half-log stairs down. They met up again in a large room, white walled and flooded with sunshine through patio doors and a picture window. Reflections off the river danced on the stucco ceiling. Around two walls were oil paintings, while the third held framed photographs and war memorabilia. “The war stuff is my husband’s. I haven’t had the heart to get rid of it.”
Jan started at an end wall, identifying paintings from the thumbnail images that accompanied her catalogue listings. Two by Marmaduke Matthews and one John Fraser from the late 1880s, when the railroad was barely done; an early Banff sheep painting done by Carl Rungius; a Roland Gissing sketch from just before the First World War, when the artist was an adolescent cowboy; and two postwar oils by mountain climber and artist Belmore Browne. Although technically the last few wouldn’t have been done yet by the fictional ranch wife’s era, Tunnel Mountain painted in European landscape tradition looked pretty much the same from one decade to the next. The rest of the collection dated from the 1930s on, when Peter Whyte, Catherine Robb, and the Banff School of Fine Arts were drawing artists from all over the world. If this was only half the works, the other half might be even more spectacular. Would the ex-husband be willing to lend, too?
With light pouring in from the river windows, she set up the tripod and zoomed in on each of the paintings. When Mrs. Harder went off to answer a phone call, she packed up the camera and rested on a loveseat facing the war memorabilia wall. The black-and-white photos, mostly women whose hair and clothing recalled the 1930s and early 1940s, hung in clusters between cases containing soldiers’ postcards, a prisoner-of-war map printed on silk, and assorted hand weapons. A face in the final cluster caught her eye. The subject wore a V-neck blouse and form-fitting jacket. Her face was a quarter profile showing smallish eyes, bumpy nose, and a pointed pixie chin. She could have been Kitrin Devine, if Kitrin had eaten more regularly and heavily pencilled her pale eyebrows.
“Who is this woman?” Jan said when her hostess returned. “She looks very much like a friend of mine.”
Mrs. Harder gave the picture a glance. “My first mother-in-law. Pale thing, wasn’t she? You’d never know she had a temper like a wild boar. Don liked this picture for the hairstyle, so I gave it to him for his display. His mother’s hanging upstairs. She had jowls like a walrus but the temperament of an absolute pussycat.” She looked at her watch. “If you have everything you need, I need to go.”
“Thank you for being so patient.” Jan took the little elevator back up and followed her hostess outside. As she stowed her equipment in the van, she said, “Your first mother-in-law, she wasn’t from Saskatchewan, was she?”
“As far as I know she was Coaldale born and never went farther than Calgary.”
Once the woman’s elderly Jaguar had blasted past her, Jan drove sedately back along West Bragg Road and pulled into the art museum parking lot. Thanks to the little elevator and the level entrance, her afternoon hadn’t been particularly exhausting so far. She texted Rob. Is Michael still there? I’m out in the parking lot. Any chance you could wheel me inside to see how he’s doing?
In a moment she got a text back. Five minutes?
That was long enough to tip the seat back, tuck her feet up, and have a rest. Terry mustn’t come back from his search to find her wiped out by this first day on the job.
She was sliding into a light doze when Rob tapped on her window. As she struggled upright, he said, “Sorry, I got held up by a phone call.”
Jan swung her feet outside and sat waiting to be sure she wouldn’t be overwhelmed by dizziness. “So, is Michael still here? Did he enjoy the clay?”
“Yeah, he’s here.” Rob ran his hands through his hair in a familiar gesture of frustration. “And so’s Chad, of all people. He’s sticking to Michael like white cat fur on black velvet. The nanny is around somewhere, too. Last I saw her, she was out by the river, playing on her phone.”
Jan frowned. “Chad’s been weird about both Kitrin and Michael. I saw him watching them around the corner of Jake’s house the other day. I really hope he didn’t do anything stupid. I mean, more stupid than turning off those cameras.” Then she had to explain to Rob what Chad had been up to, according to Lacey, and how Jake said there was no doubt now that Kitrin had been deliberately killed.
Rob said, “I kinda wish you hadn’t told me that. Now I have to go back in there and be cheerful in front of Michael, knowing his mother was murdered. Is it worse that I can readily believe Chad did it in a fit of rage, even though I’m sure he never raised a hand to her when they were a couple?”
Jan put a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. The whole thing makes me so angry, I just had to share.”
“Well, let’s get you indoors before they leave.” He unloaded her folding wheelchair. A whole year’s intermittent practice had left him as handy with it as Terry was, and soon she was sitting comfortably on the moulded seat cushion, being wheeled along the shady log colonnade to the front entrance. Rob hit the wheelchair-access button and waited for the door to swing open. As he turned her to go through, the plate glass reflected an RCMP car at the stop sign across the road. Had they found Kitrin’s phone already? It probably wouldn’t help them after two days in a chlorinated pool. She shivered, less from the cool shadows than from the memory of her struggle in the water with Kitrin.
Michael ran over when they entered the atrium. “Jan! You should see what I made: a T. Rex in a space helmet. The clay lady says she’ll bake it for me when she does her next firing, and Rob says he’ll mail it to me if I’m gone already. Do you want to come downstairs and see it?”
“I’d love to,” she said and looked past him. “Hi, Chad. What brings you here?”
“The nanny took off,” he said, his eyes lowered. “Really?” Rob looked out the big windows. “She was on the terrace a while back.”
Michael drooped. “She told us she has a meeting with Daddy, and would Chad bring me home. She meets with Daddy every day now.”
Jan bit her lip lest she blurt out her opinion of those “meetings.” Behind her, Rob said “huh” and then, “Are you strong enough to push Jan to the elevator? I’ve got to check in with my office for a minute.”
“Sure I am.” Michael immediately took position behind the chair.
Rob
moved to the elevator. As he pushed the button, the museum’s front door whooshed open. The colour drained from Chad’s face. Jan turned her head in time to see two uniformed Mounties stride in. Oh, shit. They had finally caught on to Chad’s history with Kitrin and were coming to question him.
“Michael,” she said quickly, “go hold the elevator door for Rob.”
Instead of heading for Chad, though, the officers went directly to Rob. One said, “Rob Waters? Is there somewhere we can talk?”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Lacey rubbed her eyes and tried zooming in on the image one more time. But all she saw was the same dark blob in a halo of bluish light. She’d been stuck in this office since lunchtime with the August sun baking down on the sloped roof, and with only this one anomalous moment of video to suggest someone tampered with Orrin’s Range Rover. She leaned back, stuck her feet up on the desk, and called Jan’s number, crossing her fingers that her friend wasn’t resting. The phone rang once, twice, three times. Just when she thought it was going to voice mail, Jan answered, sounding flustered.
“Lacey! Oh my God.”
“What’s the matter?”
“I think Rob was arrested.”
Lacey sat upright in a hurry. “Rob, not Chad?”
“Yes, Rob. I thought they were coming for Chad, but they walked right up to Rob and asked him if he would go talk to them.”
“Did you ask what it was about? Did he ask?”
“No. Michael was with us. So was Chad. I didn’t want Michael to overhear if they asked Chad about Kitrin’s death, so I sent him over to Rob and then they went there and … Oh my God.”
“Wow. Deep breaths. Come on, deep breaths.” After breathing along in a calming way, Lacey asked, “When did this happen?”
“About half an hour ago. I just got home.”
“Did they actually take him away or just talk to him?”
“They asked to talk to him. So we — Chad and I — took Michael down to the clay room right away to see his project. But when we came up a few minutes later, the officers were putting Rob into their car. Why would they arrest Rob? He hadn’t even seen Kitrin since they arrived. Or wait, he did once, that time she came to the museum with Mylo. That’s the first we knew she was in town. Can you find out more from Wayne or some RCMP pal?”
“I’ll try.”
Lacey hung up and dialled Wayne’s voice mail. “Hi, boss. Two questions. What do you want me to do with this oil sample from the garage floor? The mechanic thinks it’s power steering fluid. And can you find out through any buddies in Major Crimes why they want Rob Waters in connection with Kitrin Devine’s death?”
The odds weren’t good on getting an answer about Rob. Even if Wayne had the connections, he’d surely say, “Need to know, McCrae, and you don’t need to.”
She called Jan back. “I’ve left a message, and Wayne will get back to me. As soon as he does, I’ll let you know. Now, you were pretty upset when you called me earlier. What was that about?”
“What? Oh, I was on my way to look at a house with some artworks, and Jake stopped by. He’s so sad about her dying at his place. Rob’s angry and Michael’s upset. Chad’s got this glazed look. And I am really pissed off that somebody killed my friend and caused pain to all these people I care about.” Jan took a couple of audible breaths. “Well, not Chad. He’s been creepy. But the ultimate straw was later, when Michael said he wished he could go hang out with Tyrone. Nobody’s told him Tyrone’s missing in the wilderness, and I sure wasn’t going to be the one. Not when they might be found any minute.”
“So what did you say?”
“I told him Tyrone’s gone away with his father for a few days. I feel like such a shit for lying.” Jan really did sound awful. Probably overtired from this job, plus taking so much responsibility for Michael. And with nobody home to make her look after herself.
“Are you at least lying down with your feet up?”
“Yes,” said Jan with a sigh. “At least, now I am. I was pacing, and not the good kind.”
“Well, stay down now. Is Terry still on search today, or is he coming home to make supper?”
“He might be home tonight, or he might not.”
“Do you want to ask Dee to come up and make you supper? In case neither Rob nor Terry gets back?”
“I have leftovers, and I truly am more resilient with these new meds. I don’t know what shape I’ll be in tomorrow, though. I feel just helpless with Michael, and now Rob.”
“I can understand that. There might be a way you can help me, if you’re fit enough. Could you look at a video clip?”
“Maybe. What for?”
“I went through garage surveillance footage, watching the Rover Orrin drove off in. The garage lights are supposed to come up automatically when anyone opens a door, but one night last week they didn’t. There’s a person’s silhouette, like they’re crossing the garage in the dark, with a flashlight in front of them and the camera behind. If I sent you the clip, could you, I don’t know, lighten it up or blow it up or something, and see if you can make out some identifying features?”
“That actually sounds useful. I can do that.”
“Thanks so much. I’ll email you. If you’re really too exhausted, leave it. I’ll send it to Wayne and let him find someone.” Lacey hesitated before bringing up her other idea. Jan was just starting to sound hopeful. It wouldn’t do to get her stewing about Kitrin’s death again. On the other hand, this was a way she could help that investigation, too. “Would you mind looking at a photo from one of Jake’s cameras, too? It’s half a staffer going toward the pool on the morning Kitrin died. None of them will admit they were in the area. You’ve met or seen them all, and you have such a good eye for line and shape that you might be able to identify the person from the part of their head and neck that’s visible. Then the police can shake them up and find out what they saw or did that day.”
“I could help catch Kitrin’s killer? Do you even have to ask?”
Lacey hung up feeling better about Jan. Having something useful to do that wasn’t going to tax her scarce energy would likely keep her from brooding today while she waited for news from Rob.
The phone buzzed its quarter-day update on Dan. Still in the Lower Mainland. Was she being paranoid by continuing to monitor his location when he hadn’t come after her once since she moved? A question for another day.
Uploading the relevant clip to a shared file, she sent the link to both Jan and Wayne. In a separate email to Jan, she enclosed the still from Jake’s. Her phone chimed on her hip, a double repeat for Wayne. She picked up.
Wayne said, “Number one: can you run that fluid sample down to the Ghost airstrip? Markov from Cochrane detachment is there again today, and he can bring it to Calgary. I’ll get it analyzed. Seal it up in a clean plastic bag. Oil won’t go bad.”
“I do remember that much about evidence collection techniques.”
Wayne ignored that. “Per the Devine case, no charges yet, just interrogations. The husband’s not a suspect; he was in a helicopter through the requisite time frame. The nanny he’s been shagging managed to scrape up an alibi. She’d walked down to Bragg Creek that morning, hung out in a coffee shop hogging the Wi-Fi, and was remembered by a waitress she’d been rude to.”
“Charming.” Lacey ran her eyes over her monitors, counting heads. Cheryl carried a tray out of Sloane’s suite on the second floor. Earl paced between the great room and his father’s study, yelling into his phone. Bart and Andy were stretched out on the terrace under a big umbrella. Ben was presumably still asleep in their cabin. At the three gates on the back roads, ranch hands were settling in for another night sleeping in the bed of a pickup truck. Labour laws didn’t seem to apply to those men, or they were getting good overtime. She hadn’t had to give the speech again or chase off another reporter. If there were no more such tasks tomorrow, her presence here would be questioned.
“I can summarize for you who wants Orrin gone the most,” she to
ld Wayne. “Earl’s already trying to take over the business, although he doesn’t have keys to Orrin’s desk or filing cabinet. I can’t see him taking the initiative to tamper with the vehicle. He’d be too afraid of being caught and unable to blame it on someone else.” Was that true, though? The cowboys believed Earl would throw them under the bus to evade Orrin’s wrath. The mechanics might be his scapegoats for a vehicle malfunction. Hopefully Jan could enhance the garage intruder clearly enough to rule Earl in or out.
“Ben’s the next best suspect.” It cost her a pang to say that. She’d enjoyed learning to climb and was looking forward to a run around the home-quarter loop with him tomorrow morning. “He’s been feuding with Orrin for years over some land that was supposed to be in a nature conservancy for him and his twin. Things recently got worse. Orrin all but banished him from the ranch, tried to humiliate him with petty restrictions when he did visit, and last night Earl said if Orrin hadn’t fully cut Ben out of the family business, then Earl would finish the job. That thing you’re investigating doesn’t involve disinheriting Ben, does it? Or a possible infidelity by Sloane?”
Wayne ignored the questions. “Ben’s capable of tapping a power steering line, you figure?”
“I don’t see why not. However, there’s the access problem.” She explained about his lack of a fob. “How could he get into the garage without being seen when he can’t even open a door without an accomplice?”
“Would his twin help him?”
“Maybe to the extent of lending him a fob. They banded together in self-defence all their lives, against Earl and Orrin. But Bart seems content with his life. He gets along well with his wife, has a job he doesn’t mind, and some hobbies he enjoys. Like Ben, he has a trust fund from his mother that makes him somewhat independent from Orrin. And he has no apparent interest in acquiring more power in the business.”
Why the Rock Falls Page 14
