Bleeding Darkness Page 13

  “I need to go to the grocery store.”

  “I’ve done the shopping this week,” he lied. “Eat your toast and I’ll help you into the bath afterward.”

  She took a bite of toast and then another. She looked around the room and back at him. “I need to scrub the floor. It’s getting out of hand.”

  “I’m going to wash the floors while you nap. I’ll clean the walls and dust the furniture.”

  “I should do this, Boris. You need to let me …” her voice drifted away and she let the toast fall back onto the plate.

  He moved his chair next to her and took her left hand in his two large ones. He rubbed her fingers and massaged her palm. The sight of her sitting like this, so diminished and defenceless, made him sad. Fatigue was making him maudlin. How long since he’d last slept more than an hour here or there?

  “Will we go outside soon?” she asked. “I’m tired of my room. I need fresh air or I will die.”

  “Shush. Spring will be here soon and we’ll sit in the park and feed the birds.”

  “You promise? You promise me, Boris?”

  “Yes. We’ll feel the wind off the lake and dip our toes in the fountain. But for now, finish your tea and I’ll help you to bed. You need your rest.”

  “And you will scrub the floors and make borscht for our supper?”

  “Of course.”

  They managed the stairs and, while the bathtub filled, he brushed her hair and tied it up with pins on the top of her head. He helped her out of her nightdress, careful to avert his eyes, and into the tub. She was tiring from the pill he’d given her and lethargic when he finished washing her back. He lifted her from the water and dried her with a towel before slipping a clean nightgown over her head.

  When the police officer arrived at the door at quarter to nine, Antonia was fast asleep and Boris was sitting at the kitchen table reading the paper and drinking the last of the pot of tea.

  Our secrets are safe for another day, he thought. Antonia won’t be putting us into danger for the time being.

  It was the aboriginal cop and she was alone. She stomped snow from her feet before taking off her boots on the mat by the front door. Her hair was tied back in a braid and her face was lean, cheekbones high and pronounced. Her friendly good looks didn’t fool him. He could see the sharp intelligence in her large black eyes.

  “Sorry I haven’t had a chance to shovel the walk yet,” he said before he invited her to sit at the kitchen table with a courteous smile. “Tea?” he asked. “I can make a fresh pot, no problem.”

  “Tea would be lovely.”

  He felt her eyes following him around the kitchen as he boiled the kettle, refilled the pot, and took down a mug from the cupboard. She accepted milk but not sugar. Finally, he sat across from her, unable to avoid her questions any longer.

  “Where is your wife, Antonia?”

  “She’s been ill with the flu. She’s in bed now sleeping after a terrible night. I was up with her and am tired too but I need to keep the house going. I promised her some homemade soup later. I’m hoping that I don’t get sick too.”

  “I was hoping to speak with her but I don’t want to disturb her now if she’s unwell.”

  “Perhaps another day?”

  The officer sipped her tea and her all-seeing eyes watched him over the rim of the cup. “You moved to this house from Romania?”

  “Yes, in 1990. A long time ago.” He laughed and cleared his throat immediately afterward. “We lived in Bucharest.”

  “I’ve been reading about that period in your country’s history. It was a difficult time.”

  “It was a horrendous time under Conducător Ceauşescu. The people were starving while he and his evil genie wife Elena and their children lived the high life. Antonia’s village was torn down and she was moved into a housing slum in Bucharest. It was a long time ago, but could have been yesterday.”

  “That is tragic. How did you both cope?”

  Her empathy seemed genuine, which surprised him. “We did what we had to do.” She was skating too close to past torments that he needed to forget. “What did you want to speak to me about today?” he asked.

  Her eyes let him know that she wasn’t fooled by his clumsy attempt to change the subject, but she didn’t press.

  “What do you remember about Zoe Delgado?” she asked.

  “The girl used to visit next door. She was best friends with Lauren McKenna when they were in high school and then the girlfriend of Lauren’s brother Tristan. I would see them coming and going. Sometimes a group of them played horseshoes in the backyard or sat on the steps talking. In the summers, there were barbecues on the deck.”

  “Did you speak much to Zoe?”

  “Not that I recall. I would say hello to all of them when we were outside at the same time. Antonia and I know the McKenna parents more than their children. Antonia is not comfortable around many people. David told me about his children so I heard most stories about them second-hand.”

  “The day that Zoe went missing and that entire week before she was found, what do you remember?”

  “Fourteen years is a long time but I recall that it was autumn. Cool with a lot of rain. More rain than normal for that time of year. The day she went missing, I was working at my job downtown until four o’clock. Antonia was out shopping that afternoon and I picked her up and drove her home from the mall. She reported to the police that she did not see the girl because she wasn’t home. I helped with the search through the neighbourhood the second evening. It was raining hard but several people came out to help. I remember that the girl’s father and brother were frantic as the week went on. We were all shocked when they found her body hidden off the Rideau Trail less than two kilometres from her home.”

  “Did David McKenna tell you that he found her body in the backyard the evening she went missing and moved her to the Trail?”

  Boris could feel his cheeks grow hot and flushed and knew they’d betrayed him. “Who told you this?”

  “David confessed to his daughter before he died.”

  Boris imagined his blood pressure was reaching danger level. Stay calm, he told himself. She doesn’t have the entire story or she wouldn’t be here alone on this fishing trip.

  “I knew, but only much later. David felt a lot of guilt and shared what he had done with me.” He raised the palms of both hands to the ceiling. “This information changed nothing. The girl was still dead and the police —” he shrugged “— still did not have the killer.”

  “This evidence might have been the piece the investigators needed to put everything together.”

  “I don’t see how. They couldn’t even figure out that she had been moved. I doubt their level of competence would have been aided by this knowledge.”

  “You can’t believe that.”

  “But I do.”

  “This would point to the killer not being a stranger.”

  “Perhaps. Perhaps not.”

  “David also told Lauren that he knew who had killed Zoe. Did he tell you?”

  “No and I doubt that he knew. I’m sure he would have said something to me.”

  Their staring match ended when he looked down and picked up his mug.

  “Did you see Vivian McKenna at any time during this trip home?”

  He drank. Took his time. “Might have. We were never introduced.”

  “She went for a walk on Friday afternoon. Did you see her then?”

  “No. I was in my basement all afternoon working on birdhouses. Antonia would tell you if she was awake. I drove her to the grocery store that morning but neither of us went outside Friday after lunch.”

  “You’re certain?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you tell me about the McKenna family and how they got along with each other?”

  “It’s not my habit to gossip about the neighbours but I will say that David and Evelyn had a good marriage and their children were a source of pride. David told me many times that he wished the child
ren and their families lived closer.”

  “The McKenna family must have been under extreme stress when Zoe Delgado was murdered.”

  She made the observation as mildly as if she were commenting on the weather. Boris wasn’t fooled. She was still fishing. “The entire neighbourhood was upset and stressed by what happened,” he said.

  She looked at him a moment longer before draining the last of her tea. She stood and he did as well. “Here’s my card.” She leaned it against the rooster salt and pepper shakers. “Call me anytime if you remember something you haven’t shared. I’ll check back in a day or two to see if Antonia is well enough for a visit. I appreciate your help.”

  After she was gone, Boris was left with an uneasy feeling in his gut mixed with a big helping of relief that she hadn’t insisted on going upstairs to see Antonia. He wondered if he would have stopped her and was glad that he didn’t have to make that decision. There was a time he would have snapped her neck without a second thought. He’d lost the taste for it though. Now, all he wanted was to build birdhouses and be left in peace.

  chapter nineteen

  Lauren rolled over and squinted at the clock. Nearly 9:30. The shot of Scotch when she got home from the Iron Duke at 1:00 a.m. had finally put her over the edge and she’d slept even though she’d been certain she wouldn’t. She groaned softly and rubbed her forehead. Definitely a three-Advil morning.

  She went downstairs to get some pain tablets and found Adam in the kitchen working on his laptop. She took the pill bottle out of the cupboard where her mother kept all her medication and swallowed some with water before pouring herself a cup of coffee and joining him at the table.

  “Where are the rest of our happy clan?”

  He glanced up from his typing. “You’re looking rough.”

  “I have reason, don’t you think?” The throbbing behind her eyes had spread to the back of her head.

  “Alcohol is never the answer.”

  “Au contraire. Booze is my religion. Answers all my prayers and helps me find nirvana.”

  He looked back down. “They’re still sleeping. I was waiting for you to help me shovel the driveway.” He shut his laptop and stood.

  “What, now?” She looked out the window. She could use some exercise and maybe fresh air would help with the headache. “It’s stopped snowing at least. Let me finish this cup and I’ll join you.”

  “Drink up.”

  The cold made her dizzy when she stepped outside. She took in big gulps of air that hurt her chest but she managed to remain upright.

  “Christ, you look like hell,” said Adam handing her a shovel. “Why don’t you start with the walkways and I’ll tackle the drive.”

  “Yeah, perfect.”

  The snow was wet and heavy and covered an icy surface that she chipped at without success. Adam yelled at her to leave it and he’d get out the salt after they removed the snow. She saluted him and continued lifting smaller shovelfuls that didn’t strain her back. Halfway down the walk, she spotted the Orlovs’ side door open, followed by Boris stepping outside in his navy duffle coat and black toque. He waded through the snow like a hulking black bear to his back shed and returned with a shovel and started clearing out the walk from his back door. The next time Lauren looked up, he’d rounded the house and started on the front steps.

  She leaned on her shovel and watched him while she caught her breath. Adam came over and said, “I’m getting a mug of coffee. Want one?”

  “Sure, if you’re buying.”

  “I’ll be right back.” He looked over at the Orlovs’. “I wonder why Antonia hasn’t been over yet to console our mother. She’s usually shadowing Evelyn around the house at some point in the day like a lost dog.”

  “She’ll probably be over later.”

  “I guess.”

  The next few moments passed in slow motion. Adam was walking on the path she’d cleared when Lauren turned her head and glanced over at the Orlov house. Boris was swinging his shovel and snow from the top step was arcing onto the bushes one second and the next the shovel was flying up in the air while Boris was waving his arms like a whirligig as he tried to regain his balance. Lauren’s breath caught and she took a step forward as his feet shot straight up in the air and his body flew through space and smacked the bottom step before rolling a few feet onto the snowy walkway. She screamed for Adam and fought her way through the piles of snow to kneel next to him. Low moans signalled that he was still alive and breathing and Lauren fought to get her own heart rate under control. Adam was beside her before she could find out if anything was broken. He had his cellphone out and was speaking to an emergency operator. He hung up and knelt beside her.

  “Best not to move him,” he said. “The ambulance is on its way.”

  “I’m … fine. No ambulance,” said Boris but his face was red and his breathing laboured.

  “We need to make sure you’re okay.” Adam looked at Lauren. “He’s breathing and talking so no need to start CPR.”

  “No shit Sherlock.”

  “Why don’t you go inside and get a blanket?”

  The rush of adrenaline that had propelled her across the yard was subsiding, now replaced with annoyance at her brother. Ever the one to take control, he was treating her like his lackey.

  “Yeah, why don’t I just do that?”

  By the time she found a blanket folded on the couch inside the Orlov living room and returned outside, the ambulance was pulling onto the street without its siren on. She stood to one side while they checked Boris over and watched as they loaded him onto the stretcher. He appeared to have hurt his left side and was grunting in pain when not telling the paramedics that he didn’t want to go to the hospital.

  “I’ll take my car and meet you, Boris,” Adam assured him. “Once they check you over, I’ll bring you straight home.”

  “Do you really think they’re going to let him go home?” asked Lauren as Adam strode past her toward the house. She hurried to keep up, mindful of the slippery bare patches.

  “Probably not, but why tell him that now? My guess is that he had a heart attack.”

  “Or he slipped.”

  “Or that. Let Mona and Mom know where I’ve gone. I’ll send you a text when I know what’s going on.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll still be out here shovelling when you get home.”

  Lauren finished clearing the walkways and started on the driveway. Adam had removed some of the snow left by the city snowplow at the end of the drive and she started on the remainder. It was heavy slogging and she stopped every few scoops to stretch her back. The exercise had her sweating and her hair felt damp under her wool cap. Her head had mercifully stopped pounding.

  She looked over at the Orlov house. It sat in shady darkness, the line of pine and oak trees blocking the direct sun. The house was still. Waiting.

  Shouldn’t you be up by now, Antonia? Why didn’t you come outside to see what happened to Boris?

  Lauren pushed her shovel into the snow pile and started walking toward the Orlovs’. Her own house was quiet, but they had reason to sleep in after the last few exhausting days and nights. She’d still be sleeping herself if not for the headache. Someone needed to alert Antonia to what was going on with Boris. She should have thought of it earlier.

  She went around to the side door and tried to peer through the lace curtain on the window. No sign of Antonia, so she knocked, lightly at first, followed by harder raps on the glass. She waited a few seconds and rang the doorbell. No sounds from within. She tried the handle and the door opened. She stepped across the threshold.

  “Antonia? Antonia, it’s Lauren McKenna from next door! Are you okay?”

  The furnace turned on and the clock on the stove sounded loud in the empty kitchen. Dishes were piled on the counter and in the sink, which surprised her. The smell of cleaning products was not as strong as it usually was the few times Lauren had been in the house. How often had her mother ridiculed Antonia for her cleanliness obsession
when she wasn’t over visiting them?

  Lauren’s head snapped around. She’d heard a thump on the ceiling over the kitchen, like a shoe falling on the floor above. There was no leaving now. She’d never forgive herself if Antonia was in distress and she didn’t check into it. The entire situation was strange enough as it was.

  She took off her boots and padded down the hall to the bottom of the stairs. Hunter-green carpeting, well worn but clean, covered the dark oak stairs and the landing. Lauren had never gone upstairs and felt odd as she set foot on the first step.

  “Antonia!” she called, craning her neck to look upwards. “It’s Lauren McKenna. I’m coming up to see if you’re all right.”

  Still no answer.

  Lauren reached the landing and looked inside the bedrooms as she walked down the hallway. The first two on her right were small with flowered wallpaper and beds covered in crocheted afghans and embroidered pillows. The bathroom was on the left. Pink tile and seventies fixtures. The door to the last room was slightly ajar and she knocked lightly before pushing it open.

  Her eyes took a few moments to adjust to the light coming through red curtains in an otherwise darkened room. When they did, she saw a double bed with a crocheted blanket covering Antonia’s still form, her head turned sideways on the pillow. Lauren crossed the floor, leaving the door open, and reached with her fingertips to feel Antonia’s cheek. It was warm to her touch and Lauren let her breath out slowly. She hadn’t realized how much dread had travelled with her up the stairs to this back bedroom. She shook Antonia’s shoulder and called her name until the elderly woman’s eyes opened.

  “Antonia. It’s Lauren McKenna. Are you feeling okay?”

  “Lauren?” Her face creased in puzzlement. “Why you here?”

  “Can I prop up your pillows so that you can sit up?”

  “Ya.”

  Lauren helped her into a sitting position, angling two pillows behind Antonia’s head as it rested against the headboard. Lauren looked up. A sorrowful Jesus hanging on the cross looked down at them. He was next to a black velvet painting of the Virgin Mary. Lauren drew her attention back to the woman in the bed.