by Vicki Delany
“Why would Kibbens have killed himself on that day?”
“Precisely the question, isn’t it? He was an experienced cop. He’d seen a lot. He’d spent some time in Edmonton and in Calgary. Big city, big-city crime. The D’Angelo scene was ugly and messy, but any cop who’s attended at a traffic fatality has seen worse.”
Smith grimaced.
“There was nothing about that case that should have bothered him so much he’d kill himself a year later. Unless…”
“Unless,” Smith finished the thought, “he killed her himself.”
Chapter Twenty-four
“You’re sure you want to?” Walt asked. “I’ll understand if you’re tired.”
“The wine’s in the fridge. The team’s not back yet. Let’s have at it.” Carolanne smiled as she tried to calm her pounding heart. She and Walt had come straight back to the B&B after the young policewoman left them. Walt had walked beside her, with little more to say than a casual comment about the weather and how long the heat wave might last. If she hadn’t been there, if she hadn’t been witness to that whole scene, that hideous fat man, the things he said, the horrible, horrible hostile crowd, she’d think nothing at all out of the ordinary had happened to Walt. If he didn’t want to talk about it, she wouldn’t make him, but she hadn’t wanted to leave it hanging between them either. When they got in, she told him Darlene had put a bottle of nice wine in the fridge.
“I’ll be right down,” he said, and she ran to get the wine.
Mrs. Carmine was in the kitchen, sitting at the island in the center of the room sipping tea and reading a magazine. As Carolanne came through the door, silent in her running shoes, a look of pure irritation crossed the landlady’s face. It was covered instantly, but not before Carolanne read a world of complaint. Mrs. Carmine hated running this B&B. She hated her guests and she hated her life. She put on her fake smile. A smile, nothing more than an upward twist of the lips, Carolanne realized, can hide a whole lot of hurt.
“Can I get you anything, dear?”
“No. No, thank you. I’m looking for the wine. Don’t get up. I can get it.”
“Is everything all right, dear?”
“Perfectly fine, thank you.” Mrs. Carmine might hate running a B&B, but she and Carolanne had something in common: Carolanne hated staying in them. Give her a nice hotel, the more stars the better, any day. A place where the staff didn’t poke their noses into your business or expect you to make conversation over the “home-cooked” breakfast with people in whom you had not the slightest interest. The team had booked the Glacier Chalet without any input from her, and Carolanne figured it wouldn’t be so bad. With her friends staying there too, it would be more like being in a dorm than a stranger’s house. She rummaged in the small fridge set aside for guests and found the bottle. Not even room service or a bar.
“I didn’t hear the girls coming in.” Mrs. Carmine put her magazine aside, making sure Carolanne realized what a great sacrifice it was. “I’ll get some treats out for you.”
“They’re not back yet.” Carolanne held up the bottle. “It’s just for me. I mean for Walt and me.”
Mrs. Carmine’s right eyebrow rose. “I noticed you two going out for a walk earlier. Now, I never pry into my guests’ lives, but are you sure it’s wise to make friends with him, dear?”
“It’s never a mistake to be kind,” Carolanne said.
“So true. But, well, you must realize that he has a…difficult past.”
“I know he went to prison for a crime he didn’t commit.”
“Didn’t he? Oh, yes, he got out over some technicality…”
“Hardly a technicality. The police were found to have screwed up royally.”
“Not for me to judge. But they haven’t arrested anyone else, have they?”
“No,” Carolanne admitted.
“That in itself should tell you something, dear. I hate to say it, this is such a peaceful town, at least it always has been. But you might not have heard about the unfortunate incident the night before last.”
“What sort of incident?”
Carolanne could pretty much read the woman’s face. Mrs. Carmine was torn between wanting her guests to feel safe, and thus not rush back to where they came from, and the desire to spread gossip. The latter won out. “A woman was attacked. She was in a back alley by herself and it was after dark, so I’m sure no one has anything to worry about. Not if you and your friends keep your wits about you.”
“You mean it was her fault?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“She was alone after dark. Perish the thought.”
Mrs. Carmine bristled. “You’re twisting my words. All I’m doing is giving a word to the wise. Perhaps you don’t want to be alone after dark with your new friend. I wonder where he was Wednesday evening. Have you asked him? Come to think of it, that was the day he arrived in town, wasn’t it, dear?”
Carolanne walked out of the kitchen. What a nasty foul-mouthed old bat. For a moment she considered going up to her room and packing. She should leave, check into a hotel. No, if she did that, Mrs. Carmine would assume Carolanne was taking her advice and getting away from Walter.
“Here, let me take that.” He reached for the bottle. “Everything okay?”
“Fine,” Carolanne smiled. While she was getting the wine, Walt had run upstairs to use the bathroom. Hopefully, he hadn’t heard any of that conversation. She studied his face. He smiled back at her. His eyes were warm and brown. How anyone could think that a man with eyes like that could do something so vile…
“I’m sorry about what happened earlier.” He found glasses and poured their drinks. “I’m not the most popular guy around here.”
“Forget her,” Carolanne said.
“Forget who? Did she…” he jerked his head toward the kitchen, “…say something? I was talking about what happened in town.”
“Oh, that. It doesn’t matter.”
“It doesn’t matter to me, but I shouldn’t have involved you. Constable Smith was right. I shouldn’t have come back. I didn’t…” he hesitated.
“You didn’t what?” Carolanne said.
“I didn’t expect to meet someone whose opinion about me I care about.”
Carolanne glanced away, feeling heat rush into her face. She took a gulp of her wine.
“I’ll leave in the morning,” Walter said.
“No! I mean, no you can’t let them run you out of town. Tomorrow’s our open house. Come with us. Try out the boat. You’ll have fun. When was the last time you were on the water? Oh, sorry, bad question.”
He didn’t seem to mind. He twisted his glass in his hand and studied the pale yellow liquid. Carolanne glanced outside. The windows of the common room gave a view over the garden. This was a big property, with an immaculate lawn and well-maintained flower beds lining a patch of deep woods. The grass had been mowed earlier, and birds hopped about searching for bugs or seeds blown in on the wind.
“The last time I was on the water?” Walt said. “Buddy of mine had a sailboat and he took Arlene and me out on the lake now and again. I liked it. He was a good guy. One of the only ones who stood by me even after I went away. He wrote for a few years, but then the letters got fewer and eventually stopped altogether. I’d love to come and see your boat, Carolanne.” He looked up and gave her an enormous smile in a face full of joy.
Carolanne’s heart leapt. And she realized she was falling in love.
Chapter Twenty-five
It was a great day for a festival. The sun shone in a cloudless sky and although it was still extremely hot, a soft, welcome breeze was blowing off the river. The park lining the riverfront was set up for a fair. Artists and craftspeople had erected tables and tents to display their goods, local farmers offered fresh produce, the library had a tent decorated with brightly colored balloons, designed to attrac
t children. Smith spotted her mom, staffing the Women’s Center booth and handing out pamphlets. The display was about childhood nutrition. Better for today, Smith thought, than the one they sometimes dragged out about domestic abuse. At the RCMP tent a community services officer was chatting to passersby. Their exhibit concerned safety on the water.
“Adam and Norman are doing a shift later,” Smith said.
“You mean at the booth?” Solway replied.
“Yeah. Children love meeting the dog. Norman’s a complete and total ham. He loves it almost as much as the kids. Adam would rather go to the dentist.”
Solway grinned. “I bet a whole bunch of high school girls, and some of their mothers, will suddenly find a renewed interest in the importance of boating safety.”
Adam did look mighty good in his uniform. At six-foot four and two hundred well-muscled pounds, with deep brown eyes, chiseled bone structure, and perfect teeth, he might have been a poster-boy for police recruitment.
“It’s probably none of my business,” Smith said, “but I’ve been wondering—”
“Why Francesca hasn’t been around lately?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“She found a new job, and her plans to move to Trafalgar got sidetracked.” Francesca was Dawn Solway’s girlfriend. They were unofficially engaged and had plans to marry when Francesca, an American lawyer, got through the paperwork to move to Canada and start looking for a job.
“Oh,” Smith said. They walked on.
“I could point out that one of the partners in her new firm is responsible for the sidetracking. It’s over between us.”
“Sorry to hear that. Are you okay?”
“Thanks, Molly. I’m okay. Just as well. The relationship was getting more complicated than I was happy with anyway.”
Judging by the wistfulness in Solway’s voice, Smith doubted it, but she kept her opinion to herself. If Solway was looking for a shoulder to cry on, she knew Smith would be there for her.
They made their way through the happy crowds and down to the water. Two of the long, thin brightly decorated boats were pulled up to the dock, and several others were out on the river. Low, sleek and fast, they sliced through the water to the beat of the drum and shouts of the women.
“They sure can pack a crowd in those boats,” Solway said. “If one capsizes it’ll be a heck of a rescue operation.”
Smith counted. Each boat had between fifteen and twenty women in it. As well as the two rows of paddlers, one person was sitting in a chair (a chair!) at the bow, facing backwards, beating a big drum and occasionally bellowing, and another was at the back, standing up to steer.
Each boat had an ornate, fearsome-looking dragon’s head attached to the front. Smith and Solway headed for boat number three, the one crewed by the women staying at the Glacier Chalet. The sides were decorated with green decals representing dragon’s scales; the creature’s eyes were wide and his teeth displayed in an open mouth.
One of the women spotted them heading her way and hurried over to greet them. “Nice to see you, Officer. Are you here to try it out?”
“I’d like to. Please, call me Molly. This is my friend Dawn. It was Dawn’s idea to come.”
“Nice to meet you, Dawn. Welcome. I’m Darlene. Have you paddled before?”
Smith and Solway nodded in unison. “Kayaked anyway,” Smith said. “A lot when I was young, not so much these days. Hard to find the time.”
“You have to make the time, don’t you? That’s the great thing about being part of a team. No excuses allowed.”
“Your boat’s beautiful,” Solway said.
Darlene couldn’t have looked prouder if Solway had admired her firstborn child.
“Is the drum, like the dragon’s head on the front, only for show?” Smith asked. “It looks mighty impressive.”
“The drummer keeps the pace, which is important with so many people working in unison. Some coaches don’t like them, though. They think a good team doesn’t need external aids to work together.”
“Like me. Hi, I’m Laura. Welcome.”
“Laura’s our coach,” Darlene explained, “and she really doesn’t like the drum.”
“It adds unnecessary weight,” Laura said. “For nothing but show. We’re a highly competitive sport, not here to paddle in circles and splash each other.”
Smith glanced at a boat pulling into the dock. As well as the team members identifiable in their matching shirts, it contained several teenage girls who were doing just that, laughing and splashing. And clearly having a lot of fun with it.
Laura grinned. “Don’t mind me. I’m just an old curmudgeon. If people are interested in our sport, that makes me happy. Darlene why don’t you get these two suited up?”
“I’ll be the drummer,” Smith said. “That way I’ll get a comfortable seat.”
Darlene laughed. “Oh, no you don’t. Come on, I’ll find you two life jackets and paddles. We’ll be pushing off in a few minutes.”
“Almost everyone who’s been here today has some familiarity with boats,” Laura said. “It’s nice to see.”
“That’s Trafalgar,” Solway said.
Laura studied Smith and Solway, and then she turned to Darlene. “These two look like they can handle it more than most beginners. Why don’t you gather the team and take them out for a real paddle?”
Darlene grinned. “Good idea.” She raised her voice. “My team! Everyone, let’s line up.”
Laura reached into the jumble of orange and black vests and pulled out two. “These should fit, give them a try.” She tossed them to Smith and Solway, who slipped them on.
“Seems like I’ve been hearing about dragon boats a lot lately.” Solway adjusted her straps.
“It’s becoming huge,” Laura said. “Not only in North America but all over the world. We’re going to Italy for a big race in the fall.”
“Wow, that’s impressive,” Solway said. “Can anyone put together a team and participate?”
Laura shook her head. “There are races at all levels, pretty much everywhere, but to compete in the international ones you have to qualify. We’ve done that.”
“Congratulations,” Smith said. “Quite an accomplishment.”
Laura beamed. “Modesty forces me to add that we’ve qualified in our age group, the over fifties. Which is one of the great things about dragon boat racing. Anyone can find a team. Not everyone’s here right now, but we have enough to take you out.”
Something over Smith’s shoulder caught Laura’s eye and she shouted, “There you are. We’re going out, get in line.”
Carolanne was ready for a day on the water in a ball cap, sunglasses, and her team uniform. A few people openly stared at the man with her but most minded their own business. Smith leaned over and whispered in Solway’s ear. “Walter Desmond. Heading our way.”
Solway muttered under her breath. “Why do you suppose he’s still hanging around? Is he looking for trouble?”
Carolanne said something to him and pointed to the boat. He smiled at her and nodded. Almost reluctantly, she left him standing alone. “Hi. I’m glad you came,” she said to Smith. She half-turned and glanced back at Walt, watching her. He gave her a reassuring wave and she smiled.
Smith and Solway exchanged glances. “I guess we know the answer to your question,” Smith muttered.
“Are you both right-handed?” Laura asked.
“Yes,” Solway said.
“I can paddle either,” Smith said.
“Okay, in that case you can be together in the back.” She eyed the women who’d fallen into two neat rows, all of them holding paddles and putting on their life jackets. Laura told a couple of them to switch places, and then said, “Let’s go.” The women walked out onto the dock and Smith and Solway fell in behind. “Here,” Laura said, “you’ll want these.” She handed them each
two small padded orange cushions. “Those seats get mighty hard. I’m going to steer today, although Nancy usually does it, and I’ll keep an eye on you two. We can do without the drummer.”
The women slipped off their shoes and climbed into the boat. Holding carefully onto the gunwales, Smith and Solway stepped cautiously down the length of the boat to the backseat. The paddle felt comfortable in Smith’s hand. She dipped it into the water and pulled a stroke. The sun was hot on her head and sunlight danced on the water. People had gathered on the banks to watch them. She waved, although she didn’t know who she was waving to.
“Reverse slowly,” Laura called. The boat began to move. They backed away from the dock and Laura said, “Hold the boat.” They thrust their paddles into the water, holding them down. “Let’s go. Slowly.”
They headed to the middle of the wide river. Laura said, “Half speed,” and they glided forward. They moved over the calm water much faster than in a single-person boat. Churned up by the women’s paddles, the water was moving swiftly by the time it got to Smith. All she had to do was paddle. Unlike in a canoe or kayak the steering was done by the person standing at the back. All the paddlers did was provide the power.
“Eighty percent,” Laura called. The women dug in and they skimmed over the water.
“This is a heavy boat,” Laura said. “We only have fourteen people on board. A full complement is eighteen paddles, so each person is doing more.” Smith threw a glance at Solway. Her face was intense as she moved with the rhythm.
“Full forward,” Laura yelled, and the paddles picked up their pace. “It’s as much about backs and hips as shoulders and arms,” Laura said. “Swing those hips. Ribs touching thighs.”
Smith watched the women seated ahead of her. They lifted half off the seat with every forward movement and bent far over. They moved in unison, arms and bodies and paddles, forward, back, over, and up. The boat skimmed across the surface of the water. She felt exhilarated, part of something bigger than herself. She hadn’t been out on the water at all this year, and knew she’d be feeling this workout tomorrow.
