by Vicki Delany
“Mrs. Nowak?”
“She will be charged with being an accessory, but that won’t go far. She’s a mental wreck, and has almost completely shut down memories of her involvement. She had to have helped Kyle get rid of the body. They must have stuffed it into the trunk of their car and driven to Koola Park. The park would have been empty in early April. They unloaded it and carted it up the mountain and buried it. Hard to imagine.”
“Kyle was bigger in those days. I think he worked out or something. Now he’s a weedy little guy, but back then he had some muscle. Maybe they used a wheelbarrow.” She shuddered. “Awful. And then Nicky comes home after church group. Hi, Mom, what have you been up to today? Mrs. Nowak has to be a total psychopath.”
“Trying to protect her son, I’d guess. Instead, she destroyed him and her daughter as well. As for Kyle, it’s down and out frightening how well he kept a cool head. He found some gay porn in his father’s desk, replaced it with his own copies of Playboy. Probably burned other things like a letter of resignation to Steve Brooks, Brian’s boss, and any other papers that indicated Nowak was planning on leaving. Scattered the ashes around the mountain no doubt.”
In the front of the building, someone shouted, a man cheered, and people began to applaud. Smith and Winters hurried to see what the commotion was about.
Ray Lopez was coming through the front door, his grin about to split his face. His wife accompanied him, along with a beaming Mr. Chen, his son Simon, and a girl with her head planted firmly into her chest. May.
“Thank God,” someone said.
“Where did you find her?” Winters asked Lopez, while he gave Mr. Chen’s hand a hearty shake and slapped Simon on the back.
“I didn’t. Madeleine was at the Chen’s home, sitting with Mrs. Chen trying to give her comfort, when May walked through the door. Madeline called me, and thus I have the honor of bringing her in.”
“Where’s she been?”
“Hiding,” Simon said. “Mom’s at home now, crying her heart out. She didn’t shed one tear before, but now she can’t stop. May was hiding.” His smile disappeared. “Some creep Facebooked her and said he could get her into the movies if she came to Vancouver. So she decided to go to Vancouver.”
“Bad girl,” Mr. Chen said. “Bad girl.”
“She has a friend who lives on the outskirts of town. On a large piece of property with a garden shed in the back yard. Her name’s Courtney, and it was this Courtney who phoned May Saturday after supper. Between them they came up with this plan. My folks don’t like Courtney, and May knew they wouldn’t let her go there for the night, so May said she was going to Becky’s. Dad dropped her at Becky’s, and May took off for Courtney’s place. She’s been living in the shed for three days, using the computer in the house during the day while Courtney’s parents are at work, trying to contact the creep. Apparently he wasn’t prepared to risk picking her up and driving with her to Vancouver. He told her to take a bus and he’d meet her at the bus station. Movie star, my ass. I can guess the kind of movies he was going to star her in.”
“Bad girl,” Mr. Chen repeated. Now that the child was back and everyone relieved, anger was settling in.
Winters didn’t feel too sorry for May. She’d had a very lucky escape.
“As May didn’t have bus fare to Vancouver,” Madeleine Lopez added, “she came home.”
“I’ll be paying an official call on Courtney and her parents,” Lopez said. “Everyone at her school knew we were searching for May.”
“Take May home, Mr. Chen,” Winters said. “We’ll want to talk to her about this guy, but tonight I think she needs to be with her family.”
Simon translated. Mr. Chen nodded, shook everyone’s hand once again, and led his children out the door. May hadn’t said a single word.
“A happy ending,” Lopez said.
“For once,” Winters added. And it was a happy ending. They didn’t get many of those in this job. He took a deep breath. Enjoy it while it lasted.
“Now,” he said, “I’m off home to tell my wife that I’ve ruined her gallery show.”
She was sitting out on the deck when he drove up. It was dark and heavy clouds hid moon and stars. The bulb over the door threw a single beam of yellow light onto her, a small circle of humanity in the deep black forest. The rich voice of Sarah Brightman echoed off the mountains. A glass of wine sat on the table beside her and she was wrapped in a blue cashmere throw.
Eliza smiled as she watched him climb the steps. “It’s a beautiful night and you look very pleased, John.”
“May Chen, home safe and sound and untouched. She’s been hiding out in a friend’s backyard shed for three nights.”
“I am so glad to hear that. Everyone was worried.”
He reached out and plucked her book from her fingers. She was reading a historical mystery, iconic pictures of the Klondike gold rush sprinkled across the cover.
“We’ve made an arrest for the Brian Nowak murder.” He put the book on the table beside her drink.
“That’s wonderful, John. So it was murder, was it?”
“Yes, but I won’t be able to prove it.”
“You no longer look too pleased.”
“I’m sorry, Eliza. It’s Kyle Nowak I arrested.”
“Why… Oh. Kyle.” She unwrapped the throw, uncurled her legs and stood up. She put her arms around him and pulled him close. “You’re afraid I’m going to be angry at you. For ruining my show.” She smelled of vanilla hand lotion and good red wine. She tilted her head back and smiled up at him. His heart almost stopped beating.
“Rather, I’d say Kyle Nowak ruined my show. It would be worse, wouldn’t it, if he hadn’t been caught? Are you sure?”
“Positive. But don’t give up hope. He committed the crime when he was sixteen, and we’re not going to be able to prove murder. I don’t expect he’ll get much jail time, if any. It’s a sensational case and will get a lot of press. The notoriety might do your gallery good.”
She chucked, low in her throat. “Notoriety, I can do without. No, John, I’ll be cancelling the show. It might cost me something to get out of the contract, but I suspect Kyle has other things on his mind. I’ve prepared a stew for dinner. It’s in the oven and the last time I peeked it wasn’t burned too terribly badly. Are you hungry?”
“How about a glass of wine first? You should probably take the stew out of the oven. I know we shouldn’t be buying up your stock for ourselves, but I did like that painting of the house with the yellow roof. It would look nice in the landing.”
The CD clicked off and the only sound for miles was the tinkle of her laugh.
Chapter Forty-two
On a Wednesday evening Flavours was largely empty. The black-clad waiter escorted them to an alcove at the back with an obsequious smile. He took the highly starched apron off the table and fluffed it in the air before settling it into her lap. He lit the candles on the table, and said, “Good evening, sir, madam. I’ll let you look over the wine menu and be back shortly.”
His name was Tim Croft and he was six foot three with a buzz cut, a row of rings through his right ear, and tattoos, hidden by the formal shirt, covering his arms. He was a student at Kootenay School of the Arts, studying jewelry and small metal design. Lucky Smith had known him when he was in diapers and when he was an awkward pre-pubescent boy hanging around the youth center. She settled into her chair and said, “That would be lovely, thank you.”
Paul Keller smiled at her. “You look beautiful tonight, Lucky.”
She returned his smile. She’d treated herself to a new dress, flowing navy blue with matching jacket, and wore shoes with heels. The shoes she’d dug out of the back of her closet. It had been necessary to wipe layers of dust off them. She hadn’t worn heels for years and felt quite risqué slipping her feet into them. She knew Paul was t
aking her to Flavours and wanted to make the effort to look nice.
He looked nice too, in a gray business suit with perfectly knotted tie.
He opened the wine menu and consulted it, humming and hawing about what would be good. She didn’t much care. Wine was wine. Some bottles more expensive than others.
“You made an arrest in the Nowak case, I hear.”
He pulled a face. “Sad, sad story. Marjorie and Kyle both knew where Brian was all these years. I’d say they led us a happy dance, but believe me, Lucky, it wasn’t happy for anyone. Of course I can’t comment further until the matter is settled.”
“And May Chen?”
“The worst cases of them all. Missing children. It made everyone darn happy to see her walking into the station, healthy and whole and mighty embarrassed.”
“What was she thinking?”
“She ran off. Heading for the bright lights and big city. If she’d gotten there she would have been like a minnow in a shark tank. Gosh, Lucky, I’m sorry. I didn’t bring you here to talk business and that’s a heck of a downer. Can we forget about it and have ourselves a nice dinner?”
“Don’t worry about upsetting me, Paul. In my work at the women’s support center and the battered women’s shelter, I do see some of what goes on the world. What May was in danger of getting herself into simply boggles my mind. Why some men can possibly think it’s acceptable to pay for sex with a child who’s obviously been coerced at best and out-and-out beaten at worst, I cannot…” The man across the table was watching her with a look of such adoration she stopped talking in mid-sentence.
“Of course,” she mumbled, “you know that.”
“It’s nice to be able to talk to you, Lucky, about things like that. Karen wasn’t interested. She doesn’t want to know about the ugliness of the world.”
“Sometimes I think I know more than I want to. Paul…”
“The specials today are…” Tim began to recite them.
Paul consulted with the waiter and Lucky and then ordered a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon from B.C. Lucky always liked to eat locally, when she could.
They buried their heads in their menus for a while and when Tim returned, flourishing the bottle and a cork screw, they were ready to order.
Over dinner they talked about prostitution. Paul was a cop, with a bit of an old style approach, but Lucky was pleased to realize he didn’t regard the women, the younger ones at any rate, as criminals but as victims. Lucky thought every man who used an underage prostitute should be strung up by his thumbs in the town square.
Tim cleared the main course plates and asked if they would like dessert.
“Just coffee,” Lucky said, and Paul agreed.
“I had some news today,” he said, and Lucky suspected he’d been leading up to that statement all evening. She clutched her napkin. “We’ve had an offer on the house.”
“That was quick.”
“It was. It’s a good offer, so we have no reason to turn it down.”
“Are you wanting to?”
“No. Not at all. It’s just that… the closing date is only a month away. They want to move in as soon as possible. Means I’ll be homeless. Imagine, the chief constable sleeping under a bridge.” He laughed.
Lucky sensed a chasm opening up in front of her. She grabbed her wine glass and chugged what remained. She’d once again promised herself she wasn’t going to see Paul any more. But they were having fun. He so obviously enjoyed being with her that she enjoyed being with him. It was fun to have a man again. Not just the sex, although that was fun too, but a companion. Someone to talk to. Lucky had lots of friends. She talked politics with her friends, organized campaigns, went to movies and the theater, to Trafalgar Thai or the Sunshine Grill for a meal. But not to Feuilles de Menthe for lunch or to Flavours for dinner. She didn’t buy new dresses to wear for her friends or dig around in the closet for sexy shoes.
“Lucky,” he said. “I have loved you since the moment I first set eyes on you.”
She was genuinely shocked. “You have not!”
“I remember where it was. You were sitting in the city hall park. You were wearing a yellow skirt, the color of daffodils, and it was spread all around you and you were refusing to move because you were protesting… something. I don’t remember what. The sun shone on your hair and it looked like it was on fire. I’d been married to Karen for ten years, we had two kids, and I realized at that moment that I did not love my wife.”
“Please, Paul, don’t.”
“I respected Andy. I respected your marriage. But now, all these years later things have changed. Why, I don’t even have a home any more. Lucky, I…”
With great care she placed the white linen napkin on the table. The candle was low, flickering, almost out. Tim hovered in the background. He had the coffee but sensed this was not a good time to approach. Lucky stood up.
“No, Paul. You say your marriage is over, but nevertheless I will not be responsible for breaking it up.”
“Karen and I…”
“Things can change. People change. People change their minds. If your wife changes her mind, decides she wants to save her marriage, house or no house, I will not be the one in her way.”
“It’s over, Lucky.”
“And so it may seem, but you have to give it more time. Give her more time. I’m sorry, Paul. Karen needs more time. I need more time. I’m… I’m sorry. It’s just not right. Please don’t call me again.”
She ran out of the restaurant. Tim stepped out of her way, clutching coffee cups. Startled patrons watched her go.
Chapter Forty-three
On his way home from work, Ray Lopez stopped at the video rental store. The girls were out tonight and he and Madeline would have a rare evening alone. Madeline wanted to spend it curled up on the couch watching a chick flick. He had a list of suggested titles in his pocket, romantic comedies most of them. Personally he’d rather spend the night at the dentist than watching one of those movies. He considered telling her the ones she wanted were out, and all that was left was District Nine, which he still hadn’t had the opportunity to see.
But, he realized, Madeleine spent far more time with the girls than he did. Let her enjoy her night off. He handed his list to the teenage boy behind the counter.
“Lame,” the kid said, and Lopez laughed.
“The lot of a married man.”
The boy shook his head in disbelief. “Most of these are in. How many do you want?”
“Two, I guess.”
While the clerk fetched his selection, Lopez chose a big bag of popcorn and another of Doritos.
The boy rang up the charges and Lopez handed over the money.
“Is, uh, Marlene doing anything tonight?” the boy asked, his face turning bright red underneath his greasy skin and collection of pimples. Marlene was the Lopez’s third daughter, starting Grade Eleven with plans to become a cop, just like her dad.
She was at a friend’s house, studying. Lopez had absolutely no intention of letting this kid know anything about that.
“Watching movies with her mother,” Lopez said.
“Lame.”
The video store was in a small strip plaza not far from his house. Lopez took a short cut around the back rather than walk the extra distance on the sidewalk. Away from the streetlights it was dark, traffic only a background buzz. He was about to round the corner to cut through a weed-choked field which would get him back to the road when he heard voices ahead.
“Is this good stuff?”
“Guaranteed the best.”
Very quietly, Lopez placed the bag of videos and chips on the ground.
“I’d like…”
Lopez rounded the corner. Two men were standing beside a dumpster. A single light burned above the back door to the pizza
shop and the air was heavy with the scent of garbage, tomatoes, cheese, and yeast.
“Ronnie Kilpatrick. I heard you were back in town.”
The men whirled around, startled.
“I’m not doin’ nothing, Mr. Lopez, really.” He was young with a shaved head and numerous piercings and tattoos.
The second man, older, shoved his hand into his pocket and started to edge away.
“Police,” Lopez said. “Stay right where you are. Take your hands out of your pockets.”
Ronnie Kilpatrick had lost weight in prison and looked like he’d put on some muscle. The other man was in his mid-thirties, small and thin. He glanced over Lopez’s shoulder, looking for the road. Unfortunately, for him, he’d stood in the shadows of the dumpster to conduct business and was blocked in. He looked at Ronnie’s face and saw no help there. He lifted his hands to chest height. “No problem,” he said.
“What you got in your pocket?” Lopez asked.
“Nothing.”
“Turn your right pant pocket out. Use your left hand and keep the right hand where it is.”
“I donna have ta do that.” The Scottish accent was strong.
“You do. I am arresting you on suspicion of possession of narcotics.” Lopez pushed his jacket aside so his badge and gun were visible.
The Scotsman looked at Ronnie. “Tell him, mate. We’re talking about getting some movies, right.”
Ronnie’s face was as blank as normal. “Don’t know nothin’ about no movies, Mr. Lopez.” Every cop in Trafalgar knew Ronnie. Ronnie had ambitions to be a big time drug dealer. Unlikely to happen, as he was as dumb as a bag of pot.
Lopez flipped his phone open and called for a car. He kept his eyes on the Scotsman, aware Ronnie was edging away.
“Stay where you are, Ronnie,” Lopez ordered. “You know the drill.”
