Shallow End Read online

  Kala gathered up her notebook, pen, and cellphone and shoved them into her bag. “Great. The one person we really need to speak with and he’s quit the premises.” She’d have preferred to speak with Charlie at the school on neutral turf and wasn’t happy to have to track him down. She could tell by the expression on Gundersund’s face that he felt the same way.

  “All set,” she said. “Let’s go find out what it is about this Charlie Hanson that made Devon Eton become his buddy and makes the other kids dislike him.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Kala drove to Macdonnell Street where Charlie resided with his mother, Roslyn Hanson, and two sisters. They lived a few streets west of the Etons and further north, facing the back side of Winston Churchill Public School. The Hanson house was modest in comparison to the Etons’ — a two-storey with white siding and windows that could have used an update. An overgrown cedar hedge took up most of the front yard.

  Kala parked her truck on the street and wondered why she had a bad feeling. She forced herself to shake it off. An untended yard and rundown home didn’t equal an evil spirit. Gundersund sat silently while she scanned the other side of the street. She finally turned to face him, smiling to keep the uneasy thoughts from showing in her eyes. “That last talkative girl we interviewed said Charlie’s father, Wally Hanson, died a few years ago. Guess he was the handyman around this place because it looks like the yard could use some work.”

  Gundersund was watching her. “What is it?” he asked, ignoring her attempt at levity. His blue eyes questioned hers. “You seem put off by something.”

  “I don’t know. Sometimes I get a feeling … probably nothing. Let’s go check this kid out. I think he might respond better to you than me.” She opened her door and stepped out quickly. She didn’t know which was more unsettling: the feeling that had risen up her spine or the fact that Gundersund was starting to read her.

  Charlie’s mother answered the door. She was older than Kala expected, with kinky grey hair to her shoulders and a lined face. “I don’t have money for charity this month,” she said, and started to close the door.

  “Roslyn Hanson? We’re from the Kingston police, Homicide Division.” Gundersund raised his badge to eye level through the gap. She stopped and pulled the door wider, moving a step closer to read their names.

  “Who is it, Mom?” A girl in her early twenties entered the hallway. She was wearing a pink nursing uniform and shrugging into a jacket while holding her purse in one hand. She looked at Gundersund and Kala and stopped. “You’re here to question Charlie.”

  “You carry on to work and we’ll be fine.” Roslyn stepped back and helped her with the sleeve of her jacket. She looked at Gundersund. “This is Ashley, my oldest. She lives in student housing on campus and is a fourth-year nursing student. My pride and joy.”

  “Oh, Mom.” Ashley gave her a peck on the cheek. “I’ll see you at breakfast because you’ll be in bed when I get home. I’ll be staying over one more night and then back to my dorm.” She gave Gundersund a chest-high wave as she walked past him. “Go easy on my brother. He’s taking Devon’s death hard.”

  “Well, come in then.” Roslyn started down the hallway. “Don’t mind the mess.”

  They followed her into a small living room filled with furniture — a blue couch too big for the room was pushed against the window, blocking half of the view. Two recliners angled in from each wall facing a giant-screen television set on a stand. A rectangular oak veneer coffee table, home to a stack of fashion magazines, empty coffee cups, and an overflowing ashtray, took up most of the remaining space. Overpowering air freshener competed with stale cigarette smoke, making Kala’s eyes water. She felt a cough tickle the back of her throat. Gundersund made a clearing noise in his as they took spots next to each other on the couch.

  Roslyn stood in the doorway. “I’ll just go get him, shall I?” She was gone before they could respond and they listened to her heavily climb the stairs while calling Charlie’s name.

  Gundersund swiped at his eyes. “Something in this room is giving me a full-on allergy attack. What is that smell anyway? Gardenia?”

  “Chemical flowers in a spray can.” Kala spotted a family photo on the wall above one of the recliners. “My guess is roses.”

  The picture had to be a few years old. Charlie’s dad stood next to him, both with the same prominent nose and wavy brown hair, although the father’s was peppered with grey. In the photo, Roslyn had less grey in her hair than now but the same pinched look on her face. Ashley had pulled her wavy hair into a ponytail at the top of her head and wore a tight T-shirt that showed off her fleshy arms and healthy chest. She was the only one smiling. The younger girl looked to be eleven or twelve. Someone had cut off her hair in an unattractive style. Her looks weren’t helped by round glasses and a sour expression on her face that spelled a whole lot of woe for somebody.

  “Is that the dad?” Gundersund got to his feet and squeezed between the couch and the La-Z-Boy. “Charlie must be fifteen in this photo, so two or three years ago. Family’s not exactly best in show, are they?” He plunked back down on the couch and Kala bounced as he landed.

  “I wonder if he had a heart attack.” Kala looked toward the door to make sure Charlie hadn’t entered unnoticed.

  “I think his classmate said that Charlie’s dad died unexpectedly. Might have been his heart or one of those quick-moving cancers. Although an aneurysm can get you pretty quick, or a stroke. Man, I’m starting to scare myself.”

  They stopped talking as shoes clunked down the stairs and toward them along the hallway.

  “You’re up, tough guy,” Kala said.

  A slightly older version of the boy in the photo entered the room with his mother close behind him. They crossed the short space and each swung a recliner around to face Stonechild and Gundersund.

  “He’s eighteen,” Roslyn said as she sat down. “But guess it won’t do no harm for me to listen in.”

  “You’re welcome to be here for our interview.” Gundersund smiled at her and then repositioned himself on the couch.

  Kala could feel every movement her partner made as the cushions shifted under his weight. She glanced over. Gundersund was a bear of a man and he angled himself to fill Charlie’s sightline. She looked back at the kid. He was watching Gundersund with alert eyes framed by black-rimmed glasses but had a relaxed expression on his face, arms folded across his black T-shirt, which was emblazoned with a large Google logo. His face had filled in, but his hair was the same unruly mess of waves as in the photo on the wall.

  “First let me say how sorry I am that you lost your friend. I understand you were close.”

  Charlie nodded. He looked down at his hands. “Thanks.”

  “When was the last time you saw him?”

  “Monday at school.”

  “Not after school?”

  Charlie looked at his mother and back at Gundersund. “Usually we got together but he said that he had something to do.”

  “Any idea what?”

  “Nope. He was secretive about it. In fact, he’d been secretive a lot the past month or so. I thought he might be seeing someone and didn’t want to tell me yet.”

  “A girl?”

  “I guess.”

  “You were his friend when Jane Thompson was accused of sexual interference and you saw them together, is this correct?”

  “You seem to already know what happened.”

  Kala lifted her head from taking notes. For the first time, she heard an edge to his voice verging on insolent.

  “I’d like to hear it from you.” Gundersund’s voice was firm and Kala knew he’d also caught Charlie’s attitude.

  Charlie slumped deeper into the chair. “Yeah. Devon told me that he and Mrs. Thompson were having sex. I saw them together a few times after he told me. Once, she kissed him. I never saw them getting it on though.” His m
outh twisted sideways. Kala couldn’t tell if it was a smirk or a grimace of distaste.

  Roslyn moved in her chair but didn’t say anything.

  “How did Devon feel about her getting out of prison last month?”

  “He never said.”

  “I imagine the trial must have been difficult for him.”

  Charlie shrugged. “I guess. We all liked Mrs. Thompson but she shouldn’t have come on to Devon. We were just kids.”

  Kala heard a whine in his voice that kids used when feeling hard done by. He wasn’t that far from being a child even though he looked like a grown-up young man.

  “Was Devon worried about anything? Anybody bothering him?” Gundersund asked.

  Charlie’s glasses reflected the light and Kala didn’t see his eyes before his head dropped. “Not that he told me.” He wiped the back of his hand across his nose. “I still can’t believe he’s dead. Seems like he’ll walk through that door any minute. We were best friends since grade five.” He dropped his head further and covered his eyes with one hand.

  “I think that’s enough for now.” A flurry of activity and Roslyn was on her feet, looking down at them on the couch. She put her hands on her hips. “Charlie needs time to grieve.”

  Gundersund took a long look at Charlie. “If you remember anything that could help us, Charlie, no matter how trivial it might seem, call us and we’ll follow up. Officer Stonechild and I will leave our contact information with your mom.”

  Charlie nodded but he didn’t make any move to get out of the chair. Kala followed Gundersund and his mom out of the living room. She stopped in the doorway and glanced back over her shoulder. Charlie was lying with his head against the headrest reading something on his cellphone.

  She reached Gundersund in time to hear him say, “You have another daughter.”

  Roslyn was pulling the front door open. “Tiffany. That’s her coming up the walk.”

  Tiffany’s wavy brown hair was now down to her shoulders but the scowl from the photograph was still on her face.

  “How old is she?” Kala asked.

  Roslyn turned to look at her. “Fifteen going on thirty. She started grade ten but doesn’t like school much. Hard to believe my three kids all have the same genes, they’re that different.”

  Kala smiled. “I’ve heard so many parents say the same thing. Where do you work, Mrs. Hanson?”

  “I’m a cashier at the Loblaws behind Princess. Doesn’t pay much but luckily Ashley got scholarships for nursing school and works part-time. The universities are fighting over Charlie. The one coming up the walk is my biggest trial.”

  “Well, sounds like you’re doing a great job.”

  Mrs. Hanson smiled at Kala for the first time. “It hasn’t been easy.” She caught Tiffany by the shoulders as she was trying to skirt by them. “Tiffany, this is Officer Stonechild and Officer Gundersund. They’re here about Devon. Did you see him on Monday?”

  “Why would I see him on Monday? He was Charlie’s friend, not mine. Ask Charlie.”

  Kala moved to cut Tiffany’s escape into the house. “Did you or did you not see Devon on Monday?”

  Tiffany stared at her with defiant eyes, a peculiar grey-green shade that reminded Kala of lichen. Her gaze was laser straight and unnerving.

  Roslyn stepped in. “Don’t be cheeky, and answer the officer.”

  “No,” Tiffany mumbled, her mouth holding the “oh” sound long enough to be rude. She turned her head to look at her mother. “I didn’t see him on Monday. Can I go now?”

  “Mind you do your homework before supper. I don’t want another note home from your teacher.”

  “I just have some math questions. What’s for supper? Not that rotten hamburger casserole again.”

  “Hot dogs, just so you’ll stop complaining.”

  Tiffany scrunched up her face and stuck out her tongue before slipping past her mother and up the stairs.

  Roslyn shook her head. “God keep me from striking that child. Ever since Wally passed … I don’t know how to handle her most days. I keep waiting for her to outgrow this phase.”

  “Thanks for your time, Mrs. Hanson,” Gundersund said as he walked down the steps, leaving Kala to offer words of encouragement and their business card. Kala followed her partner into her truck.

  “That family depresses the hell out of me,” he said. “Makes me never want to have kids. I’ll check in with Rouleau, and hopefully, we can call it a day.”

  Kala sat with her hands on the wheel, staring straight ahead. Did she want kids? Did she want Dawn back?

  Gundersund looked across at her and hit his hand against his forehead. “How insensitive of me. I’m sorry, Stonechild.”

  “It’s okay. Those kids depress me too.”

  “I should clarify that I’d gladly be a dad if I could guarantee that all my kids would turn out as great as Dawn.”

  She started the truck and glanced at him as she turned to make a shoulder check. “But there are no guarantees. There isn’t even a guarantee that Dawn will turn out okay with all she’s had to deal with. That’s my biggest fear in all this, that she turns into another kid like Tiffany in there with nothing but anger to get her through the night.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Kala dropped Gundersund off at the car lot just after six and was home by six thirty. Not quite a twelve-hour day. They’d gotten off lucky.

  As they were leaving the Hansons’, she’d received a message from Rouleau to be at the station for a seven o’clock meeting the next morning, so another long day ahead on Thursday. She knew Forensics was also working late hours going through the physical evidence, including Devon’s cellphone and computer and all the notebooks they’d taken from his locker. When she called earlier, they had nothing to report. Three days after the murder and they had no motive and no suspects, aside from the obvious one. Jane Thompson could have sought revenge, or maybe Devon had rebuffed her attempts to start up again. Love and obsession could warp a person. Kala had seen the carnage wreaked by more than one rejected lover. In every case, temporary madness had consumed their being like a poison in the blood.

  She pulled into her driveway, stepped outside her truck, and inspected the property. Creeping darkness had cast long shadows across the lawn. The air had a crispness to it in the mornings and early evenings that hadn’t been present a week earlier. She’d think about taking Taiku for a week in Algonquin Park if this case ended quickly. Put the canoe in the water and paddle to a wilderness campsite. The leaves would have turned and the colours would be at their peak. Time away might help cure the fatigue that had overtaken her waking hours.

  She walked around the side of the house to the back deck. Taiku would have heard her arrival and be at the back door, waiting to be let outside. Her phone buzzed in her pocket as she reached the steps. She didn’t recognize the number but clicked on RECEIVE as she climbed.

  “Kala Stonechild?” the caller asked.

  A woman. Kala tried to place her voice but couldn’t. “How can I help you?” She opened the back door but Taiku wasn’t waiting in his usual spot. Strange.

  “I’m Dawn’s new child care worker, Caroline Russell. I’ve had a call from her foster family that she’s been skipping school. I understand you’re the closest she has to a relative with her parents in prison. I’ve been going over her file and would like to meet with you, if you have the time in the next week or so.”

  Had the universe been reading her mind? Kala took a second to get her head around the implications. “What happened to her other social worker? Tamara Jones?”

  “Tamara’s taken a leave of absence. The court has put Dawn in my charge.”

  Another one bites the dust. Tamara had been young and unbending — thought she knew it all because she graduated from a university course. Self-preservation told Kala not to get involved. The system had the power to destroy her
hope. She hesitated but the persistent longing to see Dawn won out.

  “Tell me when and where,” she said.

  Woodhouse checked the bar to the right of the Delta lobby to make sure none of his colleagues was lurking before he joined Marci Stokes. She’d chosen a high table near the window overlooking the harbour. Her back was to the room and he saw that she already had a drink in front of her with slices of lemon and lime bobbing in the clear liquid. He’d lay money that it was her usual gin and tonic. He strode to the bar and ordered a beer before he hoisted himself into the seat across from her. She was typing on her iPad and didn’t look up.

  “Don’t mind me,” he said. “I’ll sit here nice and quiet while you finish whatever important document you’re working on. Your time is much more valuable than mine.” He took a long drink of beer. Man, she was ragged around the edges, older than last time he’d seen her in the summer. Getting less attractive the older she got. He could see grey in the roots of her hair, which looked like it needed a brushing. Her black trench coat was open, showing a wrinkled blue blouse. She could have been a good-looking woman if she’d put a bit of effort into her grooming.

  She glanced up. “Thanks. Just sending off an email to my editor.” She finished typing and tucked her iPad into the open handbag at her feet. She took a drink from her glass and stared at him. “It’s been a while.”

  “I figured you’d be back when we got an interesting case. How’ve you been?”

  She shrugged. “Not much to tell. I spent the past few months in New York but like the air better here. So did the teacher whom Devon Eton put in prison kill him?”

  “That’s my guess. Rouleau has us checking out every other possibility, but I’d bet money she’s back inside by the end of next week.”

  “What’ve you got on her?”

  “Kid’s parents say she did it. Plus, what are the odds he gets murdered the month after she gets out?”

  “Maybe someone took the opportunity so she’d get blamed.”