Consumption (39 page)

“No.”

“Who did?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where is Pauloosie?”

“You tell me.”

“Did you two talk about going out on the land before you did?”

“No.”

“It was just coincidence that you both left within twenty-four hours of one another?”

“I heard he left and I thought that sounded like a good idea, so I did too. Took my father’s dogs.”

“Why did you lie to me about watching
Gilligan’s Island?”

“Do you think I killed that man?”

“No.”

“Then I’m going to go now.”

“You didn’t happen to run across him out there, did you?” Bridgeford closed his notebook.

“No,” Simionie said, and Bridgeford stared at him for a moment and knew what Simionie looked like when he lied.

“Did Robertson know about your relationship with his wife?” Now the constable knew what Simionie looked like when he was ashamed.

“Didn’t you convict someone of all this a while ago?”

“Why do
you
suppose Okpatayauk pled guilty to the murder?”

“I guess you don’t think he did it?”

“It doesn’t make a lot of sense to me.”

“Nothing about this does.”

When Tagak appeared in the Greek’s apartment for supper he was surprised to see boxes lining the walls. Supper was ready, Vangelis told him, and led him to the table. “Are you moving?” Tagak asked.

“The business with your brother-in-law has embarrassed my employers. I am being sent back to Africa.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Have you noticed how cold it is outside? I am not sorry in the least. Do you drink ouzo?”

He filled two glasses. Tagak nodded, having no idea what he was being offered.

“It has been a pleasure working with you,” Tagak said.

“I have found this interesting as well. I am still a little surprised, to tell you the truth, diamonds in the Arctic? But it remains, the mine is a success.”

“It seems unfair that you are being punished for doing what you were asked to.”

“I was asked to do something discreetly, and in the end, discretion was not preserved.” He shrugged in his thick black fisherman’s
sweater. “We all understand the rules. The South Africans had to do something to distance themselves from the scandal.”

“Will you tell me something?”

“Yes.”

“If my sister were to try to cash those diamonds in now, how would she go about doing it?”

The Greek smiled and toasted Tagak and they drank. Tagak choked and the other watched him recover.

“It tastes like licorice.”

“It tastes nothing like licorice.”

“Well.” He swallowed again and looked at the liquid remaining in his glass.

“I didn’t think Robertson would try to sell them himself. Not for many years, anyway.”

“He probably wouldn’t have.”

“I never attached a cash value to them when I gave them to him.”

“What are you saying?”

“They are large stones, but industrial grade. They aren’t worth more than a few hundred dollars.”

“Really.”

The Greek looked at the ceiling. “Yes.”

“You thought he was stupid.”

“I thought he would be impressed with the gift. Which is why I gave it to him. And he was.”

“A few hundred dollars for his life.”

“Yes. It’s all quite awful.” The Greek drank his ouzo. After a pause, he continued: “Your brother-in-law was a skilled businessman. He would not have been out of place in Africa, it turns out.”

“What do you mean?”

“He understood how much local influence he had here.”

“And?”

“He sought to use that to his advantage.”

“He wanted a larger position in the mine.”

“He did.”

“You gave him the diamonds to set him up. You told Okpatayauk about them.”

“No. I gave them as a present. I knew their value, but these sort of gifts are commonplace in the business. I would not have been part of setting him up. I have made my views on the matter clear to my employers. Which is why I will now reside in Botswana.”

Tagak set his drink down and walked out of Vangelis’s apartment. The Greek remained seated, as he watched the other man leave.

Marie and Justine sat together in the hockey arena and watched the boys play. There was a tournament, and Baker Lake, Repulse Bay, Coral Harbour, and Chesterfield Inlet had all sent teams. Justine had asked Marie to come with her, a gesture unusual for her; she usually tried to distance herself from her strange, sticklike, and melancholy little sister, like any eldest sister would.

For her part, Marie had been too astonished to refuse. Halfway out of the house she realized it was a mistake, that Justine must have some agenda, but by then it was too late. Justine shouted their destination out at their mother as they passed her bedroom doorway and did not wait for a reply.

Marie had no enthusiasm for boys as of yet, was actually still interested in her dolls, although she was ashamed of this and played with them alone, speaking quietly enough that she would not be heard either by her sister or her mother. Oddly, the only person who had known of this had been her father; he had seen her when they had been alone in the house together and her door had been ajar. She had looked up at his smile and had waited to be mocked. But he hadn’t. And then he had died, taking her secret with him.

The last Christmas before he was killed he gave her a beautiful wooden dollhouse he had bought on a business trip to Toronto. Victoria and Justine had rolled their eyes at how out-of-touch he
was. Was he even aware that they both bled? Victoria had hissed to him the night when he brought the dollhouse home.

God, I hope not, they both thought, listening through the wall, as they lay in their own beds, wondering what had occasioned that particularly horrifying question: Justine, twisting with the idea that he knew the truth; Marie, with the idea that he misunderstood it. She had started having her periods, and had told her mother, but then they had stopped, and her relief could not possibly have been more potent.

The boys hurled themselves at one another on the ice with an energy never evident in the classes the girls shared with them. It was a strange relief, to see them moving with such enthusiasm. The girls had thought their classmates to be silent and immobile automatons, unfeeling and barely alive. Among the older, smarter boys there was more promise, Justine had decided. There were even a few who spoke of going to college in the south when they graduated.

“Marie, how come you never eat?” Justine asked her after long minutes of silent hockey watching.

“What do you mean? Shut up,” Marie replied.

“I think you have the ano-rex-ia ner-vosa,” Justine said, pronouncing the phrase carefully. She had never heard it said aloud.

“What’s that? I do not.” Marie stared fixedly at the hockey rink, finding sudden fascination in the power play unfolding in front of her.

“Where girls stop eating because they think they’re too fat.”

“Well, that’s not me.”

“I bet it is.”

“I’m
not fat.”

“That’s for sure. Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately?”

“Justine, if you keep talking like this, I’m going to go home right now,” Marie said evenly, much more evenly than she felt. She was horrified and outraged and violated by her older, intrusive, imperious, and incredibly
obnoxious
sister.

“I really miss Pauloosie.”

“Me too.”

“Yeah?”

“Which has nothing to do with being a little thin.”

“Okay.”

“Do you think he’s okay?”

Justine shrugged. “He’s been gone for months. Anything could have happened to him.”

“Attatatiak
thought he knew his way around out there.”

“Attatatiak
doesn’t know much these days.”

“Shhh… don’t say that.”

“You know what I mean,” Justine continued. “Why does everything have to be a secret to you?”

“Shut up.”

“He was determined to get away from here. One way or the other.”

“I know.”

“Do you think he’ll come back?”

“No.”

“Hello?” Doug asked when he picked up the phone.

“Hi,” she whispered.

“Hey, it’s you.”

“It’s me.”

“Long time, no hear.”

“I know.”

“I signed all those papers your lawyer sent me, if that’s why you’re calling,” he said.

“Thanks.”

“Is anything the matter?”

“Penny is dead.”

“Oh.”

“The one with the dogs.”

“Yeah, I remember. What happened?”

“She went out on the land and disappeared earlier in the winter. Her dogs showed up in town the other day. There was some business with one of the local boys here.”

“You think he killed her?”

“No. I think she wanted to find him. Or for him to find her.”

“And he didn’t.”

“I don’t know.”

“She was young.”

“I’m having a really hard time here, Doug.”

“I’m sorry about that, Johanna.”

“Maybe the hardest time ever.”

“You were pretty close to her, eh?”

“It isn’t that.”

“No?”

“Everyone will say now that she died doing what she loved out there. That she lived for that adventure.”

“Didn’t she?”

“I suppose, a little. But she didn’t really. She was cringing from the world, every time she went out there. She was so determined to be self-fucking-sufficient.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And she couldn’t, it crept up on her in the end.”

“A bear, or something?”

“No. Need.”

“No need for what?”

“Doug.”

“Yeah.”

“Will you come up here?”

“What?”

“Get on a plane, like you did that time.”

“Do you know what kind of shit I was in at work when I got back?”

“No.”

“And how much it cost?”

“Yeah.”

“A lot.”

“I just think, we’re all too hard on ourselves. And one another.”

“I signed those papers your lawyer sent, like six months ago.”

“I know. He told me.”

“So what else is new up there. How is work.”

“You won’t?”

“Johanna. You can’t just call me up like this, order me up there.”

“So you can come up here on a moment’s notice only so long as you haven’t been asked to, is that it?”

“Why do you want me to come up there so badly?”

“Oh Doug.”

“What’s the matter?”

“…”

“Why are you… ?”

“I’m not.”

“Yes you are, I can hear it.”

“I just think that sometimes we do everything we can to stop ourselves from being happy.”

“Oh, sweetie, it’s okay. Shhhhh.”

“I never wanted to be this alone.”

“You’re not alone. Take a deep breath.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“Shhhhhhhhhhhhhh.”