Bad Medicine

by Jude Pittman

Martine gasped and turned her face into Jesse's chest.

  "You recognize her?" Sam asked

  "Yes, it's Shannon," Martine whimpered.

  "Let's go back to Sam's office." Jesse led her back to Sam's office and helped her into his chair. "You sit here for a minute."

  "I don't know how I'm going to tell Alex," Martine sobbed. "Shannon was the only family he had. He's going to be devastated."

  "The police are trained to handle this kind of thing, if you'd rather not do it yourself."

  "No! I want to tell him. Alex asked me to look out for Shannon, and I placed her in Evergreen House. They don't have any family, and I feel responsible." She brushed at her eyes. "Will you come with me?"

  "Of course. I'll call Hanson and let him know, then we can head over there."

  "Can you take me home first? I need a little time before I face Alex."

  "Sure. I'll tell Sam we're going."

  * * *

  Jesse left Martine at the door to her condo. Inside his living room, he settled into the recliner and grabbed the phone.

  "We've just come from the morgue," he said, when Mark answered his ring. "Martine identified the dead girl."

  "Let me grab a pad." Jesse listened to shuffling papers until Mark came back on the line.

  "Okay, shoot."

  "Her name is Shannon Perrault. She's sixteen, raised in foster care on the Island, moved here about six months ago with her brother Alex. He's in a dorm at UBC and she's been staying at Evergreen House."

  "How'd your girl handle the morgue?"

  "It was tough, but she's okay." Jesse let out a ragged breath. "We're heading over to UBC in a few minutes."

  "Tell the brother I'd like him to drop by my office in the morning."

  "Will do. Thanks for letting us break it to him first."

  Jesse hung up the phone just as Martine opened the door.

  * * *

  They made the trip to the University of British Columbia in silence. Pulling up to the Museum of Anthropology Jesse chose the parking lot next to the Longhouse. Once they had parked, Jesse took his pipe case out of the back seat and they headed across a grassy lawn to the large tent that served as a gathering place for Native students and visitors.

  "I'll break the news to Alex first," Martine said, "It'll be easier than telling him in front of a stranger."

  "That's a good idea. I'll set up my case and be ready in case he wants to do a pipe ceremony."

  Jesse spread out his blanket and removed the smudge and pipe from his case. In the quiet spot beside the Longhouse, he sent a prayer out to the Creator that Shannon's killer would be caught quickly. He had been sitting for several minutes when Martine approached with a tall slender youth.

  "Alex," she said, stopping in front of Jesse, "this is my co-worker, Jesse Dancer,"

  Jesse held out his hand and Alex met his grip. Their eyes locked.

  "Words won't help much right now." Jesse let his sorrow show in his eyes. "I've brought my pipe. If you choose, we can ask the ancestors to help Shannon cross into the spirit world."

  "I'd like that," he said, and his voice trembled slightly.

  They sat on the ground in a partial circle and Jesse took a bundle from his case. He removed a seashell, an eagle feather, a bag of sage and a bottle of powder.

  "We'll cleanse our circle," he said, sprinkling sage into the seashell and striking a match. A small plume of smoke rose from the shell and Jesse fanned it with the feather. When the smoke puffed into a cloud he put his hands into the smoke.

  "Unclean spirits leave this circle." Jesse commanded as he washed the smoke over his head and down his arms and legs.

  Alex and Martine placed their hands into the smoke and repeated the cleansing ritual, both of them ordering unclean spirits to leave their circle.

  When they had finished, Alex and Martine sat back while Jesse opened his case and removed the pipe. He filled it with natural tobacco, sage and Alberta sweet grass then struck a match and started the smoke. Holding the stem to each of the four sacred directions Jesses began to petition the Creator.

  "Great Spirit. We offer this smoke in honor of our sister who is making her journey into the spirit world. Her brother is here and he asks a special blessing for his young sister. My friend Martine and I join him in offering our prayers and asking you to protect this young sister on her journey into the spirit world."

  They shared the pipe, passing it back and forth until the ashes died. When they finished, Jesse emptied the bowl and replaced everything in his case.

  "You have questions?" Jesse turned to Alex and invited the young man to speak.

  "Do you know how she died?"

  "Detective Mark Hanson of Vancouver Homicide called me at work this morning to say a Native girl had been murdered. He asked me to look at a picture. Of course, I didn't know your sister, so I didn't recognize her."

  "Was she raped?" Pain distorted Alex's face, but he held onto his emotions.

  Jesse nodded. "I'm sorry. I'm afraid it wasn't an easy death."

  "Do you think they'll catch the killer?"

  "Hanson will do his best, but I'm afraid they may have the wrong idea. They found a Medicine Card on Shannon's body. That's got Hanson thinking the killer is Native. I believe he's wrong."

  "Oh God. I hope its not a brother. Will the cops listen to you?"

  "I think so. I'm their liaison with Native youth. Of course, I'm not usually involved in murder, but I've done a few workshops with Hanson. He's a good cop and he's willing to consider every angle. He already has a Native detective consulting with him on this case, but Carver, that's the detective's name, is with the gang unit. He doesn't have the time for a murder case. The fact that your sister was a Native youth – and potentially a street-endangered youth, gives me the right to ask Hanson to let me become involved. I think he'll go along. At least I'm hoping."

  "I appreciate that." Alex choked back a sob. "Will you let me know?"

  "I'll talk to Hanson and call you later."

  "Thanks. I'll wait by the phone."

  * * *

  Back in the truck Jesse got out his cell and called Homicide. "Hi Mark. I've just come from speaking with Alex. He'll stop by the station in the morning, like we discussed. He doesn't know much though."

  "Did you get anything worthwhile?"

  "He hasn't spent a lot of time with his sister since they've been in Vancouver. He mentioned a place on Commercial Drive where she liked to hang out. There's a boyfriend, and maybe a bit of friction with the foster parents. I thought I'd check those out if it's okay with you."

  "Go ahead. Just keep me informed. You know the lines."

  "I will. Thanks Mark."

  Jesse pocketed his phone and turned to Martine. "You going back to the Friendship Centre?

  "Yes, please. I want to tell the girls in my Circle about Shannon. I don't know how much time I'll need to spend with them, but I'd like to help you with your investigation."

  "Sure. Any assistance will be welcome. I have a meeting this afternoon that's going to take up the rest of my day, but I'd like to pay a call on the housemother at Evergreen House first thing tomorrow morning. I'd appreciate it if you'd call and clear it for me to go through Shannon's things."

  "I'll call right now." Martine dug her cell phone out of her purse and punched in a number."

  "Mrs. Lawrence. This is Martine LaChance. I've gotten some sad news. We've found Shannon's body. She's been murdered."

  Martine listened while the older woman likely expressed her horror and shock. After several moments, Martine spoke again.

  "Thank you. I'm going to tell the girls in her circle this morning. I'd also like to alert you that Mr. Dancer, our Police Liaison, will be stopping by tomorrow morning to speak to your girls and check out Shannon's room. Alex, Shannon's brother, has given Mr. Dancer permission to remove anything he needs in his investigation."

  By the time Martine finished her conversation Jesse had pulled up in front of the Friendship Center.

>   "Mrs. Lawrence will be expecting you," she said. "Will you keep me in the loop?"

  "Of course."

  Martine thanked him and hopped out of the Jeep.

  * * *

  It was ten o'clock when Jesse pulled up in front of a large Colonial with a wraparound front porch and pillars flanking the front door. He opened the screen and knocked sharply. A thin, gray-haired woman with sharp eyes behind round glasses and a tentative smile opened the door.

  "Hello. I'm Jesse Dancer. Martine Perrault said you'd be expecting me."

  "I'm Phyllis Lawrence. Come in." She opened the door wide.

  "Girls," this is Mr. Dancer." Mrs. Lawrence led Jesse into a comfortably furnished parlor where three young girls sprawled on the floor in front of a television set.

  "Hello ladies," Jesse responded to a chorus of "Hi Mr. Dancer."

  "Mr. Dancer is a police liaison officer. I'm taking him up to Shannon's room. He'll go through her things and later he might have some questions. You don't have to answer them if you don't want to, but it would be nice for Alex's sake. He really wants to find out who killed Shannon, as I'm sure you do."

  "Thanks," Jesse said when they reached Shannon's room.

  "I spoke with Alex after Martine called. He asked me to allow you to look at and remove any of Shannon's things that might be helpful in your investigation."

  "I'll tell you if I need to take anything."

  "That's fine then," she said, stepping back from the door. "I just wanted you to know I'd spoken to Alex."

  The room was long and narrow with a single bed under the dormer window and a mirrored dresser with a wooden chair and dressing table next to the bed. The bedcover had been hastily pulled over the pillows—Mrs. Lawrence's work Jesse guessed. Makeup bottles and tubes, brushes, jars of cream and tubes of lotion were scattered around the dresser tops and clothes were casually draped over chairs and on door knobs.

  Typical teen. Jesse crouched in front of the dressing table and pulled out a drawer. After several minutes of sorting, he had a small stack of paper piled on Shannon's bed. His stash consisted of a couple of editorials about whale hunting in Clayoquot Sound, a picture of a pony-tailed youth holding a Save the Whales placard, and three drink napkins and match books—one from The Java Hut, one from a taxi company and one from The Fish House at Stanley Park.

  A wire rack sitting on the desk held an unopened envelope addressed to Shannon Perrault. Mentally apologizing to the deceased, Jesse picked up a letter opener and slit the seal. Holding it open he removed a check for $500.00 made out to Shannon and signed by Ed Parker. Could he be the foster father? Jesse made a mental note to ask Alex. The envelope was postmarked April 9. Shannon was killed Wednesday night. So she'd had the check for a week.

  I'd think cashing a $500.00 check would be right at the top of a teenage girl's priorities, Jesse mused. "I'll let Mrs. Lawrence know I'm taking it to Alex. We'll see what he knows about this Ed Parker."

  An hour of searching turned up nothing more of interest. Jesse put the envelope and the brochure in his jacket pocket and left the room.

  Downstairs he waited at the doorway to the parlor while the credits for The Young and The Restless flashed across the screen. The girls were on the floor in front of the television. They lay, chins propped in hands, with six legs swinging choreographed kicks. When the show switched to commercials Jesse spoke.

  "Hi ladies. Anyone up for questions?"

  Three heads swung to focus questioning eyes on Jesse.

  "I promise I don't bite." He smiled and showed his teeth.

  "I'm Amy Grant." A chubby redhead stood up and matched his smile with a tentative one of her own. "We decided I should be the one to answer questions since I knew Shannon best." She motioned to the other girls who nodded their agreement.

  "Sounds great. How about we go back up to Shannon's room. Is that okay?"

  Amy followed Jesse up the stairs. "I can sit here," she said, perching on the side of the bed and leaving the chair for Jesse.

  "Thank you Amy. I appreciate you talking to me. Perhaps you can tell me about Shannon from a friend's viewpoint. I've talked to Alex, but he's her brother. Brothers see their sisters differently than friends. Friends usually know them better."

  "I guess." Amy frowned. "Shannon was kind of funny."

  "Funny?"

  "Yeah. She didn't socialize with the girls much. She didn't like people 'getting into her business'. That's how she used to put it."

  "But she liked you?"

  "Well. I don't know if she liked me that much. She needed somebody to keep her up with stuff and cover for her, sort of. I guess she kind of tolerated me."

  Jesse smiled. "I'm sure it was more than that. So how did Shannon spend her free time, do you know that?"

  Amy looked up at him with a quizzical expression in her eyes. She seemed to be debating something.

  "I'm sure you're worried about telling Shannon's secrets. I know I would be if it was my friend. But hard as it is to accept, somebody murdered her. She was your friend and keeping secrets might just be helping her killer, not Shannon. You don't want that, do you?"

  Amy bowed her head and Jesse leaned forward, watching her face. She lifted her eyes to meet his gaze and tears blinked on her lashes. "No," she whispered. "I don't want that."

  "Did Shannon have some secrets that might be considered bad? Is that what you're afraid of telling?"

  "I feel so awful." Amy's voice broke on a sob.

  "Don't feel bad. You can tell me Amy. I promise I won't tell anyone unless it involves the killer, and then I'll protect Shannon as much as I can." Jesse reached out and patted her hand.

  "Shannon slept with men for money," Amy blurted.

  "I see." Jesse noted the frightened look on Amy's face. "It's okay Amy. You can tell me what you know."

  "I'm sorry," she sobbed. "It's just that I don't want people to think bad things about Shannon because I told."

  "They won't. Someone murdered Shannon. What you're telling me could make the difference between us catching her killer or his getting away with murder."

  She pulled a tissue out of the box on Shannon's dressing table, blew her nose, and turned her attention back to Jesse. "I'm okay now."

  "Good. Now were there many men, or was it one particular man?"

  "I don't know. Shannon liked to exaggerate sometimes. She'd say things just to see how I'd react. But she did meet someone last Monday, because I saw him."

  "You did? This is important Amy. No one has seen Shannon since Monday night, so the man you saw her with may have been the killer, or at least the last person to see her alive."

  "No I saw her Tuesday morning. She snuck in to change her clothes and she asked me not to tell anyone."

  "When was this?"

  "Just before lunch time, maybe 11:30. I had a cold so I skipped my morning class. I was lying in bed when someone knocked on my window."

  "Your window? Up here?"

  "There's a ladder at the back. If you climb to the first floor roof you can come right around to our bedroom window. We use it sometimes. You won't tell Mrs. Lawrence?"

  "That's not very safe Amy. You might want to think about telling her yourself."

  "Okay. I guess I will," she muttered unconvincingly.

  "So Shannon knocked on the window and you let her in. What did she say?"

  "She said she needed to change clothes and she didn't want the Dragon—that's what she called Mrs. Lawrence—to catch her."

  "I see," Jesse stifled a chuckle. "I take it Shannon didn't get along with your housemother."

  "Shannon didn't like the way she stuck her nose into our business. I think she liked her okay, except for that."

  "Now about this man you say she met on Monday. Did you see him?"

  "Yes. I wasn't sure if she was really meeting someone or if she was making it up, so I followed her. She walked down Commercial to Hastings until a cab pulled up next to her and this Native guy got out. He opened the back door for Shannon and she
jumped in. Shannon would kill me for telling this," she muttered and then stopped as if remembering that Shannon wouldn't be killing anyone.

  "It's okay Amy. Shannon would understand. What did he look like?"

  "Hot." She lifted her head and met Jesse's eyes. "Shoulder length black hair, tall, sexy butt. He looked like somebody important."

  "How's that?"

  "The way he was dressed. Not a suit, but slacks, nice sweater, the kind of stuff my dad wears. Not like most of the guys around here."

  "Anything stand out about him?"

  "Just that he was a hunk."

  Jesse grinned. "Okay. Thanks Amy. You've been very helpful." He opened the door so she could precede him down the stairs. "Is it okay to call you if I have more questions?"

  "Sure." Amy went to rejoin her friends with a secretive smile playing across her lips.

  Chapter Three

  Back in the Jeep, Jesse called Martine, got her voicemail and left a message that he was headed back to the Friendship Centre. Once there he left a note in Martine's inbox that he was planning to drive out to Hope and visit Spirit Water if she wanted to come along.

  At his desk, Jesse started on the paperwork that had piled up and moved a couple of appointments to the next week.

  An hour had passed when Martine poked her head in his doorway. "Sorry it took me so long. I'd love to go with you to Spirit Water's place."

  "Sounds good. Give me five and I'll meet you out at the Jeep."

  * * *

  "Spirit Water is kind of a loner," Jesse said, breaking the silence they'd maintained while he manipulated Vancouver's urban congestion and crossed the bridge to Highway 1 headed toward Hope. "He lives in a log cabin built about forty years ago and he doesn't have a telephone. We'll have to take our chances on finding him home."

  "Sounds intriguing."

  "Oh he is that." Jesse's voice held a hint of laughter.

  As they sped along the highway, Jesse pointed out local landmarks and Martine kept her eyes peeled to the window. Finally, Jesse took a sharp right off the highway. "Better hang on," he cautioned as he steered the Jeep onto what was little more than a trail meandering through the grasses. They bumped and jolted along a pair of ruts, hitting potholes that bounced them to the roof.