Bleeding Darkness Page 20

  “Do you think they’re married?”

  “What, to each other? Of course.”

  “What if I told you that Antonia said Boris was her brother?”

  “When did she say that?”

  “I went into her bedroom to find out if she was okay when Adam took Boris to the hospital after he fell. She even had a photo of what looked like her and Boris as kids with their mother and father.”

  Tristan laughed. “She had to be on drugs and hallucinating. They couldn’t carry off a lie like that all these years.”

  “Tristan, I’d like to get her alone again and make sure she’s okay. Would you keep Boris busy in the basement after supper while I sneak upstairs to see her?”

  “Are you crazy?”

  “More like worried. The other thing …”

  “Yeah?”

  “Somebody killed Zoe and Vivian and they had to know our family, don’t you think? What if Boris …” She couldn’t make herself put the thought into words.

  “Killed them? Are you kidding me? That’s plain nuts.” He stared across the bed at her and their eyes held. His went from incredulous to skeptical. “Dad would have known. He and Boris spent a lot of years fishing and building things together. No way Boris could have killed Zoe and gotten away with it. Mom might tolerate Antonia, but Dad and Boris were real buds.”

  “So, after supper you’ll help me to confirm that I’m imagining all this?”

  He tilted his head from side to side and gave her an amused grin. “Sure, why not, but only because it’ll be entertaining when you discover how flawed your detective skills are. We should make a bet. Five bucks says that the old couple next door is as exciting and mysterious as Mom’s pot roast.”

  “You’re on.”

  He pushed himself up from the bed. “I’ll leave you to it then, and get ready to face the copper. What do you think of them?”

  “The police?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I think the one in charge, Woodhouse, has an agenda and I don’t like him much. I trust the woman, though.”

  “Stonechild.”

  “She seems patient and clever. I’d be surprised if much gets past her.”

  Tristan nodded and ran a hand across his chin. “She’s the one we have to look out for. Woodhouse is easily handled, but if she takes it into her head that I’m guilty, you’ll be visiting me in the pen for the rest of my life.”

  “Then we won’t let her find you guilty, will we?”

  Officers Woodhouse and Bennett interviewed them individually in the dining room. Lauren was the last to be called at 4:30 and she could tell that Woodhouse was frustrated with his lack of progress with the others. She said nothing to improve his mood. She felt sorry for Officer Bennett, who acted as a mute sidekick, sitting off to the side, taking notes. As Woodhouse wrapped up his questions, she glanced over at Bennett and could have sworn he shot Woodhouse a disrespectful glare before lowering his head. Perhaps because of her own subservient role in the McKenna family, she was more sensitive to those in the same position in other relationships. The sense that Woodhouse bullied his partner emboldened her.

  “Have you any evidence as to who killed Vivian,” she asked, “or are you making our lives a living hell because you’ve got nobody else to harass?”

  From the corner of her eye she caught Officer Bennett raising his head as she held Woodhouse’s stare. She imagined that prodding a bull with a stick would elicit much the same look on its face. “If we were harassing your family,” he said, “we’d have you all down at the station today instead of giving you the courtesy of being interviewed in the comfort of your home.”

  “I understood that you couldn’t force us to be interviewed at the station if we refused. We could also ask to have a lawyer present.”

  Woodhouse took his time answering and then spoke as if he was explaining the way the world worked to a foolish child. “You’re not under suspicion, so a lawyer isn’t needed. If you’re worried about something you haven’t revealed to me, you should spill it now because it will come back to bite you. As I’ve said before, it might be premature, not to mention costly, to bring in a lawyer now, but hiring one is your right.” He studied her with a phony perplexed look on his face. “I generally find that the innocent don’t want a lawyer present when they’re simply answering questions about where they were at the time of the murder. I thought you’d be pleased that we’re being so thorough seeing as how it was your sister-in-law who was murdered.”

  “I don’t understand why we keep going over the same ground.” She could feel her stubborn streak rising up. She lifted her chin. “You continue asking where we were that day and we keep telling you. Nothing has changed and you’re wasting time that could be put into finding the killer. When will you be releasing Vivian’s body so we can give her a proper burial?”

  “The autopsy report is expected tomorrow and we should release the body by the afternoon. I’ve told Tristan that he can make arrangements.”

  “So we can return to our lives in other cities now?”

  “Yes, but you might need to return if called upon. When will you be going to Toronto?”

  “I’ll leave when Tristan takes Vivian’s body to Edmonton. I plan to accompany him.” She added the last sentence without thinking but realized as soon as she said the words that this was the right thing to do. She could afford a few more days away from the office if she kept teleworking and would be able to make sure Tristan got through his return home.

  Woodhouse eyed her with interest. “You seem exceptionally close to your brother. I understand that you vouched for his whereabouts when Zoe Delgado was murdered.”

  His observations were made mildly without a question attached and Lauren bit back a retort. No good could come of matching wits with this cop who held the power to make the investigation into whatever he wanted. He didn’t need evidence to leak innuendos to the press, or to continue pressuring them into a confession, or to trip them up. The police had thrown everything they could at Tristan when Zoe was murdered and nothing would stop them from doing it again. She met his stare and neither spoke. The seconds ticked by.

  Officer Bennett cleared his throat and ended the impasse. They both looked across the room at him. “Should I warm up the car if you’re done asking questions?” he asked, shutting his notebook.

  Officer Woodhouse’s eyes shot bullets and Lauren braced herself for an outburst. She was surprised when he said in a jocular voice, “Yeah, because I guess we won’t be finding out anything new from this one. Miss McKenna thinks we should be back on the road tracking down the real killer.” He touched a finger to his head and saluted her. “While you’re at it, Bennett, call Gundersund and tell him that we’re on our way in. I’ll be out in a few minutes once you’ve got the car toasty warm.”

  chapter twenty-nine

  Gundersund tucked his cellphone into a pocket, ran a tired hand through his messy blond curls, and said to Rouleau, “That was Bennett. He and Woodhouse are done at the McKenna house and on their way in.”

  “Make any headway?”

  “Bennett says no.”

  “Two weeks and we’re not much further ahead than when Vivian McKenna’s body was found. Murder is bad enough but to kill a pregnant woman …” Rouleau couldn’t finish. Frances’s miscarriage and inability to conceive again had defined the tragedy of their marriage. “How’s Woodhouse doing as lead investigator out in the field?”

  “I want to be fair but he keeps re-covering old ground, setting his sights on Tristan McKenna.”

  “He could be right this time. Tristan wouldn’t be the first husband to kill his way out of a marriage.”

  “I know and we have the second murder of Tristan McKenna’s high school girlfriend to compound the suggestion of his guilt.”

  “I was surprised that Woodhouse sent Stonechild to interview people in Edmonton. I would have thought he’d want to go himself.”

  Gundersund lifted his mouth in a half smile. “He wants to del
egate and save his skills for getting the truth out of Tristan McKenna. He calls it turning the screw slow and steady.”

  Rouleau’s desk phone’s red light flashed and he picked up. Just as well he didn’t have time to comment. “Yes, Vera?”

  He listened for a moment and said, “Put her through.” He raised a finger to let Gundersund know the call wouldn’t take long.

  “Yes, Marci, how can I help you? How about six thirty? Okay, see you there.” He hung up and said to Gundersund. “Marci Stokes has something to tell me and wants to meet for a drink at the Merchant. Feel like coming along?”

  “No, I’m keeping an eye on Dawn while Kala’s away and should get over there. I got a text from Kala and her flight gets into Toronto tomorrow late morning so she’ll be home around lunchtime. That’s another long night alone for Dawn so I’ll go check in on her.”

  “How’re they doing?”

  “Well, I think it’s promising that Stonechild didn’t zip off to Edmonton and leave Dawn to her own devices for two days. I was over making supper last night.”

  “My dad wants to take all of you out for a meal one night soon. He’s fond of Kala and Dawn and thinks he should get more involved. He intends to propose something to Dawn over a plate of Chinese food.”

  Gundersund stretched out his right leg and kneaded the muscle in his thigh. “I get the sense Dawn is struggling even with Kala’s attempts to make her feel wanted, so your dad’s involvement might be what she needs.”

  “Dad has a steadying hand and a gentleness that troubled souls respond to. He would have made a good social worker or minister. Sore leg?”

  “Yeah. I fell asleep on Stonechild’s couch and woke up this morning twisted out of shape.”

  “I’m sure Stonechild will be grateful that you stayed over.”

  “Dawn was happy to see me still there in the morning, anyway.” Gundersund hesitated. “Any decision on running for top cop?”

  “I have a meeting with HR in a few minutes. I intend to turn the acting position down.” Rouleau saw the relief in Gundersund’s eyes before he hid the emotion with a poker face.

  “I’m happy for the team, but are you sure you should turn down the opportunity?”

  “I’ve not interested in furthering my career. I’m content in Major Crimes with you lot.”

  Gundersund grinned. “Then I’d say it’s our lucky day.”

  Sally Rackham entered his office munching an apple and rubbing her belly, which looked even larger than Rouleau remembered from the week before. She spread her feet and lowered herself into the visitors’ chair with a grunt. “You caught me on my last week before I go on leave,” she said. “This baby can’t come out soon enough.”

  “Doesn’t look like you have long to wait.”

  Her laughter filled the room. “My husband’s been convinced since the fifth month that I couldn’t get any bigger.” She spoke down to her stomach. “Guess we’re showing him.”

  “You said you had an update on Woodhouse.”

  “I do. He called today and withdrew his complaint.”

  “Well that’s something. Any idea why?”

  “If I had to guess? I’d say he’s gotten wind of Captain Heath’s leave of absence and is thinking about becoming your replacement if you continue acting for Heath.”

  “About that. I’ve decided not to apply for Heath’s position so let’s hope Woodhouse doesn’t decide to backtrack when he finds out.”

  Her mouth formed a circle of distress. “Oh no. May I ask why not?”

  “I prefer heading up Major Crimes.”

  She was silent but her forehead crinkled into a series of worried lines. “The thing is,” she said after appearing to give his words careful thought, “the board wants you. I’m quite certain they aren’t going to be pleased that you’re turning the acting job down.”

  Rouleau looked out the window. Darkness had fallen around 4:30 but he could make out a frosted pattern on the glass that had snaked its way up from the sill. He knew she was being tactful. He wasn’t going to get off easily if he went against the board’s wishes.

  He pulled his gaze away from the icy window and back at her. She held the half-eaten apple in midair and the anxiety on her face made him hesitate, but not for long. He said, “Let the board members know I’m not interested and they’ll have to go with someone else. It’s not like I’m the only qualified cop.”

  She looked far from convinced, but took a bite out of the apple before saying, “I’ll tell them. Then I’ll totter off on my maternity leave extremely happy that I don’t have to deal with the fallout.”

  “They’ll simply have to accept my decision and move on.”

  “I wouldn’t bet on it, but we can dream. You know that you’re doing an excellent job acting for Captain Heath now, don’t you? The rank and file are as contented as I’ve ever seen them under your watch.”

  “Are you working to get me to change my mind?”

  “Maybe.” She smiled.

  He returned her smile. “My mind’s made up, but nice try.”

  After she left, Rouleau checked the outer office. Vera had gone home for the day and he remembered her saying something about hosting a book club and needing to pick up wine, crackers, cheese, and pâté. He’d forgotten what it felt like to have a circle of friends outside of work. He could take a lesson. It was time to expand his lunchtime walks into an activity that would widen his interests. He admitted to himself that he was getting restless. Dissatisfied with his life.

  His desk phone rang as he was putting on his coat. He almost ignored it but old habits died hard and he picked up, tucking the receiver against his shoulder as he slipped one arm into the sleeve. He experienced a jolt of pleasure when he realized his old friend Petran Albescu was on the line.

  “Petran, thanks for getting back to me so soon. I was going to follow up on my request in a few days.”

  “No need. I cannot talk, my friend, except I wanted to tell you that I’m taking the overnight flight and will be in Montreal tomorrow afternoon. I’d like to meet up.”

  “Tomorrow afternoon?”

  “Yes, I arrive at three thirty at the Pierre Elliott Trudeau Airport. I’ll hire a car and drive to Kingston.” His accent gave a rolling quality to his words not unpleasant to the ear. Rouleau recalled that Petran spoke five languages fluently.

  “Or I could drive to Montreal and we could meet there.”

  “That would be too much to ask.”

  “No trouble at all. I’ll give you my cellphone number and you can text me when your plane lands. I’ll meet you out front of the airport. Have you booked a hotel already?”

  “You are indeed the friend I remembered. Don’t worry about my accommodations. They’ve been looked after.”

  Rouleau detected a smile in his voice. “Can you tell me anything about your visit?” he asked.

  “Not over the phone. You understand.”

  “I’ll wait until I see you in person. I’ll likely bring a member of my team if that’s okay.”

  “Good. Until tomorrow. It’s been a long time, Jacques.”

  “Too long. We have a lot of catching up to do.”

  “That we do.”

  Rouleau sat deep in thought after he hung up. Petran would not be flying to Canada unless he had something important to share. Something he wasn’t comfortable saying over the phone because guarding against eavesdropping was a way of life in Romania or any country that had been under Communist rule. He’d take Stonechild with him to Montreal because this was her lead. He was intrigued but would set aside the implications of the call until they spoke with Petran in person.

  Marci Stokes was waiting for him in the entranceway to the bar when he arrived at the Merchant a half hour later. Since it was a Monday night, they had their choice of tables and took one in the corner near the front window. Rouleau studied her as they sat down. She was wearing her usual black coat but looked different.

  “You’ve cut your hair,” he said as they pulled
out their chairs. “It suits you.”

  “The grey has also been eradicated, although you’re too much the gentleman to comment on that.”

  She appeared flustered under his gaze and he dropped his eyes to look at his beer. It wasn’t just the hair that made her look different. The colour in her cheeks and the lightness in her step were new. She seemed happy. “Has something good happened in your life?” he asked.

  “Ridiculously, it appears I’ve adopted a stray cat. Not sure how good that is in the scheme of life, but I feel like I’m settled for the first time in a long time. Perhaps the arrival of the cat was a good omen. He keeps showing up even though I did everything possible to shoo him away.”

  “I can see you owning a cat.”

  “Can you? I never could. My life has been all about not being tied down. My New York Times editor knew that at the heart of our relationship, I didn’t need him. Not really. I’m afraid lust followed by familiarity is a decidedly different animal than love.”

  “I loved my wife Frances even after we separated. I realized after she left me that I hadn’t done enough to nurture her spirit while we were married.” Rouleau surprised himself with this admission and took a drink of beer to stave off further confessions.

  Marci tilted her head and studied him. “You’re a decent man, Sergeant Rouleau. You give me hope.”

  “Hope?”

  “That there are more men out there like you and I won’t end my days jaded and alone.”

  He returned her smile. “You had something to tell me?”

  “I shouldn’t be sharing this but I’m tired of all the underhanded tactics to get news reported, and I use the word news loosely of late, at least on the Internet.” She leaned closer across the table. “We got an anonymous tip at the station that a complaint has been lodged against you for improper hiring and favouritism. I’ve had confirmation and am tasked with writing this up for tomorrow’s paper.”

  “The complaint has been dropped.”

  “You know this for a fact?”

  “I had a meeting with HR before I came here.”