Cat Among the Fishes

by Louise Clark

  When they reached the playground at the far end of the campground, they found there were several other kids there, including Hayley and Dylan Farnsworth. A rambling climbing apparatus formed the center of the large area, with teeter-totters to one side, and swings to the other. A climbing wall seven feet high stretched the length of the back end of the area. A bike or skateboard path with an asphalt surface wove across the sandy floor. A split rail fence enclosed the area, and several parents stood on one side, watching their kids enjoy themselves.

  Patterson was standing a little ways away from the others, leaning against the top rail of the fence as she observed her niece and nephew at play. Her hair was tied back in a long braid. She was wearing short shorts that exposed a lot of tanned, very fit legs, and a scooped-neck top that slid off one shoulder. Her outfit reminded Christy that she really did have to adjust her image of Patterson as a woman and individual. When Noelle went off to join Dylan and Hayley, Quinn and Christy wandered over to Patterson.

  She smiled faintly and straightened when she saw them. “Afternoon.”

  “Hi.” Christy thought Patterson looked worried, but she didn’t comment.

  There was a silence for a minute as they all watched Dylan hike up a ladder to the top of the climbing apparatus, ignoring his sister who was having problems with the height of the rungs. Noelle helped her grab hold of a rung above her head, then boosted her up onto the ladder. Together, they followed Dylan up to the top.

  Patterson sighed. “I suppose you heard the action at my site this morning.”

  “Not all of it,” Quinn said.

  Dylan raced across the top, squeezed through a large round pipe, then dove for the slide it gave access to. Haley scrambled behind, shorter legs churning. Noelle reached for a fireman’s pole and slid down that way.

  “Enough to guess that someone was murdered,” Christy said.

  Patterson nodded. “That jerk, Higginson.” She shook her head. “I shouldn’t say that. The man’s dead. But…” She shrugged. “According to my husband and his brother, Higginson was unpleasant as a teenager and isn’t much better liked now.”

  Quinn hitched his hip onto the top rail of the fence, turning his body so he was looking directly at Patterson. He made a cynical sound in his throat. “I’m not surprised. He didn’t seem to have a filter when it came to his fish farm.”

  “No.” Patterson moved uneasily. “Greg and I left with the rest of the crowd. Adam stayed behind. Apparently, there was a huge fight between Adam and Higginson and Norman Laing after the meeting broke up. The mayor and that councilor woman got involved too. Harsh things were said. That’s what the local cops wanted to talk to Adam about.”

  She stared out at the children. “I wanted to go with them when they questioned Adam, but the cop, Inspector Woodgate, refused.” She looked back at Quinn and Christy. “Now I don’t know what Adam said. If it was too much or not enough.”

  Realization hit Christy hard. “You’re afraid he said something to incriminate himself.”

  Patterson’s mouth hardened and she looked away again. Then she sighed. “Yeah, I am.”

  Dylan had raced to the climbing wall at the back of the area and was reaching for hand holds. At the bottom of the slide, Haley stood undecided, but her body language said she wasn’t keen on scaling the wall. Noelle plowed her way through the sandy surface, from the sliding pole to the bottom of the slide. She touched Haley on the shoulder and pointed to the swings. The two went off together.

  “When you say ‘harsh things,’ what exactly do you mean?” Quinn asked.

  Patterson grimaced. “From what I can gather it was an academic bitch fight. Norman Laing and my brother-in-law work in the same field. Both are highly respected, but they’re coming at the same issue from different angles. Laing believes open water fish pens are safe and that any disease or infestation issues can be countered by medications and careful practices. Adam believes open water pens are the apocalypse for wild salmon and that if they remain the fishing industry is doomed. He’s been working on inland installations that both raise fish for harvest and also grow vegetables hydroponically using the wastewater from the fish tank. He sees his option as clean, non-threatening to the wild stocks, and a good use of recycling. Problem is, it’s more expensive. It’s also new technology. Companies like Higginson’s Progressive Fish Farms, which have invested heavily in the open-water system, stand to lose a lot if the government refuses to renew old licenses or issue new ones.”

  “So the argument was philosophical as well as technical?” Quinn asked.

  Patterson nodded. “According to Adam, Norman Laing has been co-opted by big industry and he’s sold out his academic integrity. He swears he can counter every one of Laing’s safety arguments and prove he’s mistaken.” She shrugged. “Unfortunately, Laing is probably saying the same thing.”

  “Do you know what the victim was doing while Adam and Norman Laing debated?” Christy asked.

  Patterson shot her a quick frowning look. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, Shane Higginson had a purpose in holding that information session. He may have wanted to get the general public on his side, but after the main audience left, it sounds like a core group of influencers were still in the building with him. It would do his cause no good if Norman Laing lost the debate. He must have been worried.”

  “You mean, how good is Adam as a debater?”

  Christy smiled faintly and nodded.

  Patterson stared at the playground, then turned back to Christy. “He can be relentless when he believes he right. He’s got a mind for details and a spare, almost brutal, way of making his point. He doesn’t embellish or distort facts to suit his thesis. Instead he wears down the other guy with facts. All kinds of facts.”

  Quinn rubbed his chin. “So Higginson is trapped in a room with two representatives from the local government, the premier’s proxy, who’s there to decide if granting a license to Progressive Fish Farms is worth the conflict it will generate amongst the environmental community, and two scientists, one of whom is saying the open net method is critically flawed. Furthermore, that scientist is really good at arguing his point.” He raised his brows. “I’m surprised it’s Higginson who was murdered, not your brother-in-law.”

  Patterson stared at Quinn in silence, frowning as he spoke. “Are you suggesting Higginson may have somehow undercut Adam?”

  Quinn shrugged. “Or he was able to falsely boost Laing’s arguments. You said Higginson was a jerk, but that’s your brother-in-law’s opinion, isn’t it? Not yours?”

  “My husband’s as well. Greg is older than Higginson and Laing, while Adam was slightly younger. Greg didn’t hang with Higginson’s crowd in high school, but Higginson had a rep. He liked to control by division.”

  While she talked, Christy noticed Dylan had abandoned the wall when the two girls didn’t join him, and for a while he’d played on the swings with them. Growing bored with that he’d pumped his swing high, then jumped off and raced to the teeter-totters. Haley followed, with Noelle trailing along behind. Dylan took one end, while Haley had the other. Noelle watched from the sidelines.

  Dylan controlled the up and down of the teeter-totter. It lifted speedily. Haley shrieked.

  “Dylan!” Patterson shouted.

  Dylan let the teeter-totter fall less quickly.

  Christy said, “What exactly do you mean by ‘control by division?’”

  “No one in his crowd could be close friends with each other, only with Higginson. He had to be the center they all spun around. Greg says that if someone got to close to another in the group they were both out. And Higginson made sure they were shunned by the rest.”

  “Powerful stuff in high school,” Quinn said. He sounded thoughtful.

  Christy didn’t see it. “But how would he make that work here?” They were long past high school and people grew and matured. How would a man keep such a hold on fellow students he may not have seen since in years?

  A light fl
ashed in Quinn’s eyes. “What if Higginson’s company was funding Laing’s research and he threatened to cut off the money flow if Laing didn’t deliver on the licenses?”

  “Politicians need money too. Maybe he was donating there as well, at all three levels,” Patterson said.

  “The current donation laws limit the amount any one individual can give to a politician or political party,” Quinn said.

  Patterson shrugged. “Maybe he planned to, but he hadn’t figured out a way around the donation laws yet.”

  “Making promises, you mean?” Quinn said, frowning. “A promise is a start, but won’t buy a vote.”

  “No, but a promise and a threat might,” Christy said. “Trevor told us Chad Davis, the MLA, said that he, Davis, was personally against open net fish farms. What if Higginson had something on Davis that made him believe he could force Davis to act against his own beliefs to recommend that the license be granted?”

  Patterson stared at her. “It would have to be a very dark secret.”

  “The fewer people who know about a secret, the easier it is to bury,” Quinn said.

  Patterson rubbed her scar. “Good point.”

  “Higginson may have used the same process of promises and threats on the other politicians too. Kelloway and Hicks could have secrets they don’t want to come to light.” Christy watched the kids as they headed the climbing apparatus again. This time Dylan led the way onto the monkey bars.

  “If a personal secret or funding for his research is behind the murder, Adam doesn’t have a motive,” Patterson said. There was relief in her voice. “Woodgate had to question him because he was there, part of the huge argument that night.” She flashed a rueful smile at Christy and Quinn. “I hope that’s all it was so I can get on with my vacation and not worry about business.”

  At that moment, Hayley tried to follow her brother onto the monkey bars and did a face plant into the sandy playground floor instead. She immediately set up a howl, mostly of indignation, but some hurt as well.

  Having successfully crossed to the other side, Dylan now stood beside her, hands on hips. He said something. Haley howled harder. Noelle, who’d followed the other two up on the monkey bars, made her way across. She reached the end successfully and climbed back down.

  Patterson shook her head and said, “Time to head home.”

  After Patterson had collected her niece and nephew and, with a wave headed off, Christy went over to push Noelle on the swings.

  Quinn followed. “You know, if this Higginson guy was as manipulative as Patterson suggests, he probably had something on Adam Farnsworth.”

  Noelle settled on the swing and flashed Christy a grin. “Push me high, Mom!”

  Christy laughed. “Yes, ma’am.” As she pushed her daughter, she frowned at Quinn. “Like what?”

  He shrugged. “Some way to destroy his credibility and reputation? A way to cut his funding?”

  The swing came back her way and she pushed again, in an absent-minded manner. “You don’t think the cops were questioning Adam because he was there.”

  Quinn shook his head. “Nope. There’s got to be something more.”

  Chapter 8

  “It’s not going to rain.” Sledge was working the weather app on his phone. They were all sitting at the picnic table plowing their way through a breakfast of bacon, eggs, ham, and home fries. Roy was cooking and he’d produced a hearty breakfast, probably to counterbalance the vegan dinner Tamara had created the previous night. Tamara, of course, was eating healthy, as usual—this time blueberries and cottage cheese.

  Ellen looked up at the overcast sky. Her expression was dubious. “The weatherman has been known to be wrong.”

  Sledge liked Ellen, which was a good thing since there appeared to be something going on between her and his father, but he’d noticed she wasn’t her best in the mornings. Whether that was caused by their present circumstances, or was her natural personality, he didn’t know. But if Ellen Jamieson was to become a permanent part of his world, she’d better get used to his teasing ways, because he had no intention of going easy on her just because his father was infatuated with her.

  He turned his phone so she could see the graphic. The sun had a little cloud over it, but no droplets falling from the cloud. The caption below said there was a twenty percent chance of rain. “See. No rain.”

  “But no sunshine either. Let’s plan a day inland instead of going to the beach,” Christy said, doing her peacemaker thing. She was good at that. Sledge appreciated that about her, though he thought she was a bit too easy on Ellen.

  “I want to see the goats on the roof,” Noelle said promptly.

  Ellen raised her eyebrows. “Goats on a roof?”

  Her skepticism prodded Sledge’s mischievous streak. “They’re there to keep the grass short. No one wants to mow a roof.”

  Ellen shot him an under brow look that oozed disapproval, but it was Tamara who said, “A sod roof here in Canada? That’s an awfully old-fashioned way of construction. Are you sure, Sledge?”

  Yes, he was sure. He blinked at Tamara and wished she hadn’t interfered with his tease.

  “A sod roof. Of course,” Ellen said. She went back to her breakfast.

  Noelle said with considerable excitement, “It’s a store, not just a place for the goats to live. Mary Petrofsky told me all about it. She says it’s cool.”

  “Then we’ll have to go,” Christy said, smiling at her daughter.

  “After we’ve done a little shopping, we should continue on to Cathedral Grove,” Roy said from his spot manning the camp stove. “It’s a stand of old growth forest that was never logged and has been preserved as a provincial park. There are paths through the woods and the trees are so big that even if it does rain…” He shot an amused look at Sledge. “The canopy is so dense we won’t be inundated. Anyone want more toast?”

  “None for me,” Quinn said. The others nodded agreement.

  Crouched on the roof of Christy’s van, half in and half out of his tiny tent, Stormy the Cat was keeping a close watch on the picnic table. I could use some bacon.

  “The bacon’s finished for today,” Roy said. “I used it all up. We’ll have to buy more for tomorrow on our way back this afternoon.”

  “Bacon isn’t good for cats,” Sledge said. His father cleared his throat and he looked up to see a frown on Tamara’s face, while the others all glared at him, except Quinn. His eyebrows were raised, though. While he couldn’t hear the cat, he could tell when the rest could.

  Sledge shot Tamara a cheeky grin and hoped she’d figure he was nothing more than an airhead rock star. He knew she’d been through a lot, but she needed to lighten up. At least when she was with him.

  By mid-morning they’d cleaned up the campsite and were ready to go. Ellen was dressed with her usual elegant flair, while his father—heaven help them—had clearly chosen the tailored trousers and front button shirt with a view to impressing her.

  He himself was sticking with distressed jeans that had a sizeable hole at the thigh and a long sleeved T-shirt, along with his BC Lions ball cap, of course. Like Ellen, Christy was dressed in tailored slacks and a round-necked top that hugged her body in a most attractive way. He caught Quinn watching him stare at her and suppressed a grin. Quinn didn’t appear pleased. Things were heating up nicely.

  Quinn turned away to speak to Tamara, who was wearing jeans and a polo shirt that was loose and not very feminine. She smiled at whatever he’d said in her usual restrained way, and Sledge wondered what she was thinking. She was a hard woman to read.

  Yesterday, when they went bungee jumping, she’d flung herself over without hesitation. He’d had to steel himself to do it, so her casual abandon horrified him. Yet, she was normally so quiet and reserved. He wondered which was the real woman, and suspected it was both. Living in war zones pulled out the daredevil, but her kidnapping had taught her to keep the daredevil well leashed and it was only allowed to emerge in certain special circumstances, like bungee
jumping.

  They broke into two groups, using Christy’s van and Trevor’s comfortable Honda Accord, which was more suitable for four people than Quinn’s small sub-compact. Stormy’s tent was moved onto the roof of Quinn’s car, while Stormy joined Christy, Noelle, Trevor, and Ellen in the van. Sledge drove his father’s Accord, with Roy riding shotgun and reading the map. Quinn and Tamara sat in the back. It felt a little weird having Quinn’s dad in the passenger seat beside him, but he decided with a shrug that he could live with it.

  Goats on the Roof was a forty-five minute drive inland and the parking lot was already full when they got there, even though it wasn’t yet noon. Away from the coast the overcast cleared and the sun shone brightly on the bustling area. They found parking spots, then split up. Sledge wasn’t particularly interested in browsing inside the store, so he decided to stay outside and look for the goats, which were conspicuously absent on the roof. Wandering around the perimeter had another benefit—he could escape more easily if someone recognized him. Trying to get out of a goods-and-people packed store in a rush would be a nightmare.

  He found a tree with shade and an unobstructed view of the roof and leaned against its solid trunk. He scrutinized his phone, read some e-mails, and responded to a text in between checking out the roof for the goats.

  He’d just decided that the goats were a myth, when he noticed Tamara heading his way. She had a bag in her hand and a sheepish look on her face. He grinned at her. “Buying souvenirs?”

  “Presents for my mom and dad.” She hesitated. “I also got something for Olivia.”

  Olivia Waters was Tamara’s birth mother. Their relationship was new and very tentative. Sledge flashed her a grin. “I hope it’s tacky in the extreme. Olivia could use some lightening up.”