Among the Departed

by Vicki Delany

  Sylvester jumped to his feet and ran to the door with a bark. Seconds later Lucky heard a truck coming up the long driveway. Moonlight and Adam. She smiled. She liked Adam, and he obviously adored Moonlight. Lucky was happy that after Graham’s death Moonlight had been able to move on and find love again.

  Even if it was with a police officer.

  She opened the door and Sylvester dashed out, overwhelmed with excitement. Adam and Moonlight got out of the truck and it pleased Lucky to see a third person climb out of the back seat. Christa. Next came Norman, Adam’s police dog. Norman was a working animal, not a pet, but he tolerated the exuberant Sylvester.

  Lucky suspected that Sylvester hero-worshiped the other dog.

  Everyone trooped into the kitchen, tripping over dogs.

  “Smells fantastic,” Adam said, giving Lucky a light kiss on the cheek.

  “I brought you something.” Christa handed her a bunch of pink carnations.

  “Thank you, dear.”

  “It’s been too long.”

  “Yes, it has.”

  Moonlight gave her mom a hug before going to the fridge to get a beer for Adam and wine for the women. She twisted the cap off the bottle. Lucky had laid glasses on the table, and Moonlight began to pour. “One for you, Mom?”

  “Please, dear.”

  “Why are there five places set?” Moonlight put the bottle down and looked at her mother. The girl’s eyes were full of water.

  Lucky swallowed. “I didn’t forget your father won’t be joining us. Although sometimes I do.”

  Moonlight wrapped her mother in a tight hug. Adam and Christa shifted their feet. Norman helped himself to the contents of Sylvester’s water bowl.

  “Who’s coming?” Moonlight said, pulling away from the hug.

  Sylvester barked and Lucky said, “That must be him now.”

  She went to the door. Paul Keller had been in Big Eddie’s when she’d invited Christa to tonight’s dinner. Somehow on Saturday, when they were having lunch in town, he’d invited himself.

  She didn’t mind. She always loved having a houseful at meal times and missed no longer having anyone to cook for.

  “Mom,” Moonlight said from behind her. “You have not invited my boss for dinner, have you?”

  “His wife’s out of town and I thought he’d enjoy a good meal.”

  “How do you know his wife’s out of town?”

  “Paul, welcome,” Lucky said. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

  He was carrying an enormous bouquet of peach roses and had a bottle of wine tucked under one arm and a big smile on his face.

  “Wine or beer?” Lucky asked, accepting the flowers.

  “A beer would be good.”

  “Moonlight?”

  “What?”

  “Can you get another beer?”

  “Beer?”

  “Paul would like a beer.”

  “Oh, right.”

  “Dinner will be about half an hour. It’s too wet to sit outside, I’m afraid. Let’s go into the living room for a visit. Now, Paul, I hope you remember I told you there will be no police talk here tonight.”

  “I’d like to know what’s happening with Brian Nowak,” Christa said. “I remember when that happened. You were friends with Nicky, weren’t you, Molly?”

  “I was. She lives in Vancouver now, came back when she heard he’d been found. I had a drink with her the other night.” Moonlight stole a glance at Adam. “She’s turned out to be beautiful.”

  “Really?” Adam said, “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Owns an interior decorating company.”

  Adam snorted.

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Nothing. Good beer, this.” He hurried into the living room.

  “So much for no police talk,” Lucky said with a sigh.

  She followed her guests.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Steve Brooks, Brian Nowak’s former boss, told John Winters now that he was retired, he and his wife spent every winter in Hawaii. They left on a Tuesday, the day after Thanksgiving. No life like it, ha ha. Retirement: best job I’ve ever had. He laughed heartily at his own joke and pulled out photographs of the condo on Maui.

  Winters refrained from rolling his eyes, admired the pictures, agreed that he too was looking forward to retirement and yes, Hawaii was a nice place, tried to refuse tea, but finally managed to get the conversation on track by explaining he was short on time.

  Mrs. Brooks served tea while the two men settled into patio chairs on the deck.

  “I remember it as if it happened yesterday,” Brooks said. “Hard to forget. Brian didn’t come to work that Monday morning. He was always punctual, so when he was late, Patty, that was my receptionist, works at the Royal Bank now if you want to talk to her, checked his diary. He had no appointments indicated. We didn’t think much about it, figured he’d forgotten to tell Patty he had a call to make before coming into the office, although he was good at keeping her notified of his schedule. Around ten or so his wife called. Looking for him.” Brooks shook his head. “What do you say to a woman who assumes her husband’s at work?”

  “What did you say?”

  “That he wasn’t there, of course.”

  “How did she take that?”

  “She apologized for disturbing me, said there must have been a misunderstanding. She was about to hang up, so I asked her when she’d seen Brian last. Sunday after church she said. She repeated that she must have made a mistake. Sorry to bother me. She hung up.”

  “What did you think?”

  “That it was mighty strange, that’s what I thought. Patty and I talked it over. You see, Brian wasn’t the type to spend the night away from home. He wasn’t much of a drinker, not into following sports, didn’t go to bars. If he had any vices he kept them secret.”

  “Do you think he had any? Vices?”

  “No. He was an ordinary guy who worked for me for five years.”

  “Would you say Mr. Nowak was a happy man?”

  “How do you define happy?” Mrs. Brooks said.

  A hard question to answer.

  “Tell you the truth, Sergeant, Brian was a lousy salesman. Aside from the matter of his disappearing the way he did, I wasn’t all that disappointed to see him leave. I was thinking of letting him go. You ask if he was happy. Sure, I guess he was. Can’t say any different. We got together with his wife and him now and again. Office parties, that sort of thing, nothing personal. The wife, don’t remember her name, seemed nice enough.”

  Mrs. Brooks nodded. “Marjorie was her name. I liked her. I tried to befriend her after Brian… left. I made a casserole, took some groceries around, invited her out to lunch, my treat. She took the food and groceries, refused lunch, and didn’t invite me to come back. I haven’t seen her for quite some time.”

  “Did you speculate about what happened to Brian Nowak?”

  Mrs. Brooks shook her head and her husband said, “I figured it was obvious.”

  “It was?”

  “Guy must have come across a crime being committed. Saw something, or someone, he shouldn’t have. So he was grabbed, taken out of town, killed and dumped. I always figured he was in the woods somewhere, didn’t I say that, Elena?”

  “Yes, dear. You did.”

  “Turns out I was right.”

  The thought, Winters knew, had occurred to Keller as well. What Nowak might have seen in the couple of blocks between his house and the convenience store had never been discovered.

  “You don’t think he simply ran off?”

  “Who knows what people do, sergeant? Or why. But nope, I don’t. He was a normal guy, solid citizen. That’s why I hadn’t gotten around to firing him. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him he wa
s out of a job. I always was too soft for my own good, wasn’t I, Elena?”

  “Yes, dear.”

  ***

  Brian Nowak had one brother, Kevin, living in Toronto. Winters phoned him, but the man said he hadn’t heard from his brother in fifteen years. Like everyone else Winters spoke to, Kevin Nowak claimed that Brian had no noticeable vices, no secret past. No reason to walk out his front door and disappear.

  Winters was beginning to wonder if Steve Brooks had been right. Had person or persons unknown grabbed Brian Nowak on his way to buy cigarettes, dumped him in the woods, and left Trafalgar?

  Had Nowak seen something he wasn’t supposed to?

  If so, whoever was responsible had fifteen years to cover their tracks.

  Nowak had been gone for a couple of days before the case became a police priority and Keller searched the Nowak home. He’d found nothing of interest. The man’s clothes were neatly hung in the bedroom closet, his shaving things on the bathroom shelf. His driver’s license and credit cards were missing but it was assumed he would have taken his wallet when he went to the store. They’d found well-thumbed copies of Playboy and Hustler magazines in the desk in his den, but nothing illegal. No kiddie or violent porn. The family didn’t have a computer, but in 1996 that wasn’t unusual. A search of his bank account uncovered nothing out of the ordinary.

  Other than the ten thousand dollars that had passed in, and out again, in a matter of weeks.

  Keller had wondered if the man had a gambling problem, but Nowak didn’t travel much, if at all, beyond the occasional Christmas visit with the family to his brother. He wasn’t spending weekends in Vegas or Atlantic City.

  Winters put his feet up on his desk and stared out the windows. By all accounts Brian Nowak was a pretty ordinary guy.

  The only unordinary thing about him was his death.

  Chapter Twenty

  Molly Smith shifted the substantial weight of her belt. “Would you like to come for a ride, Mrs. Galloway?”

  “That would be lovely. Where shall we go?”

  “How about home?”

  Smith reached out her hand and helped the elderly lady to her feet. She lived with her daughter and son-in-law, who had four children under five including infant twins, and couldn’t always give the old lady the attention she needed. She was well known to the Trafalgar City Police.

  Mrs. Galloway blinked. Her eyes were enormous under thick glasses, watery and confused. “Do I know you, dear?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m Constable Smith.”

  “Now I remember. You’re such a nice young man.”

  “Right. My car’s over here.”

  “Perhaps I should wait for the bus.”

  “I’d be happy to give you a ride.”

  It was one o’clock in the morning. It had rained earlier and the wet streets reflected the blinking yellow of the traffic lights. A car passed slowly, the only one she’d seen in the last five minutes. White faces peered out, hoping to see some action. The dark bulk of the mountains loomed over the town, the flashing red light on the top warning airplanes away.

  Mrs. Galloway’s daughter had gotten up for a crying baby and saw her mother’s bedroom door open. The bed empty, the front door unlocked.

  The old lady, dressed as if going to work or shopping, had walked two kilometers into town and was sitting at the bus stop, patiently waiting for a bus to pull up and take her who-knows-where.

  This couldn’t go on. It was the second time in three months the police had been called to find the poor thing. The last time she’d been sitting on a bench outside Big Eddie’s, waiting for them to open. Which would have been in about six hours.

  Mrs. Galloway was lucky it was the police who found her, not someone looking to make trouble. She was as innocent and docile as a toddler.

  Smith helped her into the passenger seat of the patrol car.

  “How’s your wife?” Mrs. Galloway asked politely as they pulled into the deserted street.

  “Fine,” Smith said. She had no idea who Mrs. Galloway thought she was. Probably back in a world where all people in dark blue uniforms were men. She was eighty-nine years old. Her mind was mush, but her body was in as good shape as a woman in her sixties.

  Which would I rather lose first, Smith thought, my mind or my body?

  She shivered.

  Mrs. Galloway began to chat about someone named Alice who was getting married and Smith drove her home through the empty rain-slicked streets.

  She delivered the woman, now chatting about a trip to Toronto next month, to her home where a young woman, baby balanced on her hip, stood in the open door, framed in yellow light.

  “Oh, Mom,” she said. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  “You shouldn’t be up this late,” Mrs. Galloway said. “Children need regular hours.”

  “Thank you, Constable.”

  “My pleasure. You know you have to speak to someone about this, don’t you? Next time she might head into the woods.” Smith thought of Norman scratching at long-missing bones.

  “We’ve been putting off making a decision, but I guess we can’t do that much longer. Thank you again.”

  “Good night.”

  The woman drew her mother inside and closed the door.

  Smith went back to her car.

  It was cool, a sign of winter on the way. A breeze stirred the leaves in the walnut trees lining the road, and the scent of wet grass was heavy on the wind.

  Up the mountain a coyote howled.

  She drove back to town. Up and down the quiet, dark streets. Her eyes constantly moved but her mind wandered.

  It had been awkward, to say the least, last night at her mom’s. The chief constable coming for dinner. Sitting in Dad’s place. Mom laughing at his stupid jokes.

  Smith had virtually shoved Adam and Christa out the door as soon as they finished dessert. Keller followed, somewhat reluctantly.

  “Everyone’s talking about them, you know,” Christa said from the back seat.

  “Talking about who?” Smith asked, although she would rather not know.

  “Your mom and Chief Keller.”

  Adam laughed and Smith glared at him. “Nonsense.”

  “I’m telling you, Molly. I was in the bagel line at Big Eddie’s this morning, and that woman who works at George’s on the weekends was behind me, and she told her friend that Lucky Smith had come in for lunch with Paul Keller on Saturday. And then Jolene looks up from making bagel sandwiches and said they were in here one day too. Together. Laughing and having a grand old time.”

  “You’re talking rubbish.”

  “Molly,” Tocek said, “Christa’s only telling you what she heard.”

  “Yeah. They’re two of the most prominent people in town. Everyone knows the chief and almost everyone knows your mom. They’re like chalk and cheese. Can’t imagine an odder couple.”

  “They are not a couple.”

  “I meant couple of people, not a romantic couple.” Christa let out a bark of laughter. “Oh, god. Maybe that is what I meant. Did you see those flowers he brought, and the way he smiled all night?”

  “He’s married,” Smith said, remembering that her mom never did tell her how she knew the chief’s wife was out of town. “She invited him around for dinner because his wife’s away.”

  “I wondered where she was,” Christa said.

  Town came into view. A thin line of lights clinging to the riverbanks and crawling up the lower levels of the mountain. The big black bridge over the Upper Kootenay River clattered as the truck drove over it.

  “Do you think you should tell Lucky people are talking about her?” Tocek asked.

  “There’s nothing to tell. You know Mom, she likes people. She thinks she has to look after them. If Mrs. Ke
ller is away, then Mom probably thought the chief needed feeding, that’s all.”

  Adam pulled up in front of the old house where Christa occupied the top floor. Street lights shone though the leaves of the walnut trees lining the sidewalks, bathing them in a soft yellow glow.

  “I bet that’s it. Thanks for the ride, Adam.” Christa leaned forward and touched Smith’s shoulder. “It’s been too long, Molly. My fault.”

  Smith laid her hand on her friend’s. “See you soon, eh?”

  Christa gave Norman a slap on the hip in farewell, opened the door, and began to get out. “He must really need feeding. Coffee, lunch, now dinner.” She laughed heartily and slammed the door.

  “What are you smiling at?” Smith said to Tocek.

  “Nothing.”

  “Make sure you don’t,” she’d said.

  Smith had long suspected the chief had a crush on her mother. Was he moving in now Lucky’s husband was gone? The chief was married, for heaven’s sake. His wife was all over the community: hospital board, Rotary, the arts’ council, volunteer at the museum, the BIA.

  “Five-one?”

  “Five-one here.”

  “Noise complaint. 90 Elm Street. Loud music and people shouting.”

  “Ten-four,” she said, all thoughts of her mother gone.

  Elm was a quiet street of nice houses and clean sidewalks. They didn’t often get complaints there. She turned downhill and drove through the dark streets. She didn’t need the house number, she could hear the noise before she even turned the corner.

  A group of young people were on the lawn outside one of the bigger, newer homes. There were about ten of them, dancing on the grass. Music blared from the open windows. As Smith pulled up, a young woman shoved her glass into another woman’s hand, broke away from the crowd, and ran toward the car. A long summer dress clung to her thin body and her feet were bare. Smith told dispatch she’d arrived and got out of the vehicle.

  “I’m sorry, Officer,” the woman said before Smith could open her mouth. “Are we being too noisy?” Shiny blond hair swung around her shoulders and her embarrassed smile showed perfect teeth.