Cornwall and Redfern Mysteries 2-Book Bundle (19 page)

Of course it
was
a whore's bedroom. Rae may look like Malibu Barbie with a domestic problem, but she was still a hooker.

She had ripped out every fixture in the trailer except the miniature sink, fridge, microwave, and furnace. The walls were painted a lighter shade of purple than the outside, and pink, custom-made blinds closed out harsh sunlight and curious eyes. Two purple tufted chairs were pulled up to an equally purple round table. The only other piece of furniture was a king-sized bed pushed against the far wall. The bed was covered in a puffy pink bedspread and strewn liberally with pink and purple cushions. A tiny white table beside the bed was loaded with coloured tubes and small jars. Gels? Best not to think about it. But everything was scrupulously clean.

A polished chrome post, reaching from floor to ceiling, was the focal point of the trailer. I dragged my eyes away and tried not to imagine Rae hanging upside down from the pole wearing nothing but a garter belt and fishnet stockings.

Rae stared at me in horror.

“Bliss. Look at you.” She fluttered around me like a fairy trying to comprehend the sudden appearance of a hobbit. “What happened?”

“I got run off the road at the corner. Are you ready to come over and spend the night?”

“You have to get cleaned up, Bliss. You are absolutely filthy.”

“Easier said than done, Rae. Maybe I could take off my clothes and stand in the rain.”

“Don't be silly. We'll just go to the centre and wash you up.”

“The centre will be locked.”

She reached into a hanging purple cupboard and pulled out a pink ribbon. Attached was a key.

I didn't even want to ask if she had some sort of arrangement with the manager of Secret Valley. But I changed my mind about minding my own business. If it killed one of us, I was going to get Rae into another line of work.

Rae slipped on a pair of rain boots and grabbed an umbrella from under the bed. We stepped into the storm and, as the lightning flashed, I saw a figure standing under the roof overhang of the Quigley trailer. A cigarette tip glowed. I grabbed Rae's elbow, but she merely gave the figure a friendly wave and kept going.

“Lead on, MacDuck,” I hollered as we clambered up the slippery bank. By the time we turned on the lights in the centre, Rae's shorts and halter top were almost as mud-smeared as my clothes.

Rae had her own locker containing toiletries galore. Both of us shampooed and showered. Rae dressed in clean clothes from her locker and offered me a spare thong, but I passed. I donned the oversized yellow raincoat.

While I opened my trailer and turned on the lights, Rae ran next door. By the time I was dressed in an ancient set of gray sweats, Rae was back with a covered dish and a bottle of wine. The sight of the wine made my stomach lurch, but to my surprise I was hungry again.

While Rae bustled around, heating the shepherd's pie and opening the wine, I tried to come up with a diplomatic way of broaching the subject of the dead guy in the woods.

But, hell, it had been a really long day.

“So, Rae, I believe you know the man we found in the bush this morning.”

She paused with a large serving spoon in her hand. Avoiding my gaze, she said, “What makes you say that? We couldn't see his face.”

“I don't think he had a face anymore. And you heard the cops identify him as Fitzgerald Corwin.”

“Oh?”

“Fitzgerald. Your abusive client. The one who beat the hell out of you. Wasn't his name Jerry?”

“Well, it could have been him, I guess.”

“Snake dragged him away. Now he's dead. Death by hatchet, according to the police.”

“Bliss, you don't think that I …”

“Of course not. I'm thinking Snake.”

I was trying to watch Rae's face while digging into the casserole. She looked troubled, but not frightened. Me? I was just the opposite, scared as hell but not giving a shit who did it as long as he was caught, and soon. And I didn't tell her about Redfern's involvement with Snake. Sometimes the less you know, the safer you are, and I hoped this was one of those times, for Rae's sake. She seemed too friendly with the Quigleys as it was.

“Bliss, you may find this hard to believe, but Snake is really a kind person. He looks rough and talks like a tough biker, but he's been looking out for me.”

“Is he one of your clients?”

“No. Only because he's never asked.”

“Maybe he's gay.”

“Bliss, stop it. You're suspicious of everyone.”

“It's been that kind of day. Anyway, now that we know that Jerry is the dead man, what should we do about it?”

Rae sat opposite me and poured herself more white wine.

“Honestly? I don't know what we should do. If I tell the police I knew him, they'll find out pretty fast he was a client. Then, there goes my business.”

“You were going to quit anyway.”

“I know, but my plan calls for me to work another couple of years.”

“You might not have any choice, Rae.” An idea was germinating in my brain, but now wasn't the time to pursue it.

“I just don't know what to do,” Rae repeated. “The Quigleys have been good to me, but there's something funny going on over there.”

“You've spent a lot of time in their trailer. Have you seen anything suspicious?”

“Like what?”

I helped myself to another portion of the shepherd's pie, but left the wine alone. One hangover per day was plenty.

“Well, why is there so much traffic at the Quigley trailer? Boy, this food is really good, Rae. I don't know how you cooked this with only a microwave.”

“I don't cook. I nuke a lot of frozen foods, but Sarah made this dish. Isn't it great?”

My first impulse was to spit out my mouthful of food, and my second was to punch Rae in the face. I controlled both impulses, swallowing and keeping my hands in my lap.

“Uh, Rae, did Sarah use her special ingredient in this dish?” I already knew the answer. Now I was a pro, and recognized the boneless, floaty sensation that was moving up my body from my legs. I still wanted to strangle her, though, so it hadn't quite hit my brain yet.

Rae looked guilty.

“Oh, I guess I should have told you, Bliss. I'm sorry.”

“I just ate two bowls of this.”

“Sorry.”

“Let's get this on the table, Rae. Sarah Quigley is the Baker, right?”

She nodded unhappily, but didn't speak.

“So, did it ever occur to you that Sarah's cooking is the reason so many people come by their place for a short visit?”

“No. No. Wait, Bliss, calm down. You're right. People bring their own weed for Sarah to mix in with the food. But that's not all of it. You don't think all those bikers eat shepherd's pie or coconut cookies, do you?”

“No, they probably eat pretty little hookers and innocent short women.” I was bellowing at her. I didn't feel the same as yesterday after Fern Brickle's chocolate squares, not nearly as relaxed. And my skin crawled. “Why do you think Snake hangs around here? He's the Quigleys' enforcer.”

“Enforcer for what?” Rae asked.

“Well, I don't know! For whatever it is they do over there. Maybe a meth lab, a nice companion business for the pot baking.”

“There's no meth lab, Bliss. There was one in my old neighbourhood until the cops shut it down. It smelled horrible, and the equipment takes up more space than one of these trailers has.”

“You've just fed me marijuana, you empty-headed dolt.”

“I said I was sorry.”

I needed some fresh air. I didn't care if a pack of coywolves or ten murderers were waiting outside the door. I could run through the rain and the wind and laugh at the lightning bolts as they tried to strike me.

I jumped up from the table and threw myself headlong at the door. Rae dragged me back.

“Bliss, you can't go outside. The storm's worse. It sounds like a hurricane.”

I shoved her away from the door just as a powerful hammering sounded from the other side.

I slammed my body to one side of the door and flipped off the light.

“It's the murderer. Get a knife.” I wasn't getting enough air in my lungs.

Rae peered between a slit in the threadbare curtains.

“It's Chief Redfern.”

“Get away from that door, you fucking idiot. He's one of them.”

“Ms. Cornwall. Open the door. Now.” Redfern rattled the knob.

Rae pushed me away from the door and turned the light back on. I tackled her, but too late.

The door flew open and I landed against Redfern. My weight forced him back a half-step, but he braced himself against the frame and caught me under the arms.

I wrenched away and dove for the junk drawer. There was a paring knife somewhere in the mess.

I never made it. Redfern wrapped his arms around me from behind, pinning me helplessly against him. I kicked and squirmed, but he held me tighter.

He asked Rae, “What's happened to her?”

“It's the food.” Rae sounded frightened, but I was still going to punch out the bitch's teeth. She had no right to let the enemy in.

“Does she know what she ate?”

It was time to get involved. “She does now! It's everywhere I look and in everything I eat. Instead of solving the problem, you're part of it. You should rot in jail with the rest of the crooks, Redfern.”

“This must have something to do with the road to perdition I'm on, Cornwall. But right now you need to listen to me.”

In answer, I gave a mighty heave and managed to break free from his grip. But an instant later his arms wrapped like steel cables around my body again.

“Is there anything else in that food besides marijuana?”

“No.” Rae's voice was shaky, the stupid bitch.

“Okay, listen, Bliss.” Redfern sat down on the bench seat and pulled me onto his lap. He held my wrists in his hands and crossed our arms over my chest. “You're having a bad reaction to the weed you ate. I know it's hard, but try and relax and it will pass sooner.”

“I ate it yesterday, but I liked it then. This is awful.” My entire body was shaking and I could feel a pulse beat under my chin, ready to burst through the skin.

“The effects can vary. You were just in an accident and your body still contains stress hormones. If I were you, I'd stay away from weed from now on.”

“Oh, like I run around buying it on the street. I had a bit of wine this afternoon.”

“That wouldn't help.”

“That wasn't my fault, either. God! If Glory had just given me food instead of three bottles of white wine, I might have been able to ride my bike home sooner and missed that crazy driver who ran me off the road.”

“Let's talk about that. Tell me about the vehicle. When did you first notice it?”

“After I pulled away from the traffic light. It must have come out of the Petro station.”

“Colour, make?”

“SUV. Light, maybe white or cream. Or even light blue or green. It was raining so hard I couldn't see and, before you ask, I didn't get the licence plate number.”

“Not any part of it? Close your eyes and think about that. You looked in your rear-view mirror and …”

I closed my eyes. I was shaking all over and still wanted to run away into the night and never stop.

“It was maybe a Tribute or even a Tucson. There was an A and an H on the licence plate. And a 7, I think. But that's all I remember.”

“That's good, Bliss.” To Rae, he said, “Please get her some water.”

Rae found my one bottle of water in the fridge and opened it.

Redfern said to me, “You won't try and get away if I let go of one of your wrists, will you?”

“I would not consider it,” I said carefully. When he released me, I grabbed the bottle, upended it, and drained it in three or four gulps. “Shit. Now I'll have to pee and it's still raining outside. Rae, can I borrow your key to the rec hall for later?”

Redfern said, “Rae, can you get the key and some more water?” She scurried out the door without a word.

Redfern said, “Tell me what you know about Fitzgerald Corwin.”

“Bet you didn't know that Rae sleeps with men, though. For money.” Well, fuck, I probably shouldn't have mentioned that.

“I know. And, you might tell her that I won't be able to look the other way much longer. She needs to get out of the game before she's charged.”

“The whores have always been amongst us,” I intoned. “Seriously, can you imagine having sex with, like, two strange men a day? Isn't that gross?”

“Hard to believe, isn't it?”

“I've tried to talk her into another occupation, but she says she needs more money to open her spa. Sometimes, I think that's just a pipe dream to justify what she's doing, as if the end justifies the means.”

“Are you still talking about Rae? Or yourself?”

“I'm not breaking the law to achieve my goal. And I know when to change tactics.”

“How so?”

“I was trying to save enough money to hire a lawyer so the Weasel would have to fork over a fair portion of our assets. You know he totally screwed me over?”

“I heard the rumours.”

“I realized that it would take me years to save enough money, so when a fortuitous turn of events occurred, I seized the moment.”

“Really?”

I found myself telling Redfern about the article in the paper prematurely announcing the Weasel's impending run for office and his donation of fifty acres of wetland to the province to save the spotted turtle habitat.

“The thing is,” I said, “I own that land. It was my divorce settlement … and worthless. It's a swamp, and nobody will ever buy it for development. I realized the other day that if I don't pay the back taxes by tomorrow, the property will go to public auction. I think that's what the Weasel is counting on. He'll swoop in and buy it, then give it to the province.”

“You must be feeling better,” he said. “You're starting to make sense.”

I realized I was still sitting on his knee. I slid over to the bench, but he pulled me back.

“Did you say you have to pay the outstanding taxes by tomorrow?”

“I tried this afternoon, but their debit machine was down, and the clerk said they didn't take cheques, or cash. I'm pretty sure she's the missing evolutionary link.”

“So you plan to try again tomorrow?”

“I have no choice. If I don't pay by the end of business tomorrow, I lose the property and the Weasel wins. I stopped at his mayor chambers today and told him I was onto his game. I told him he could have the swamp in exchange for a fair settlement. I only wish I could remember what it was. I sort of pulled the figure out of my ass.”

“Quite the picture.”

I didn't mention my piece of insurance. Loose lips sink ships, as some famous person once said. Or maybe it was Pan. The photo of Mike and his reefer would remain a secret, unless I had to send it to all the major newspapers, or learn how to upload it to the Net. That would depend on Mike's decision.

“Where's Rae?” I asked.

“I'll go look for her if you'll be okay by yourself for a bit.”

I was uncomfortably aware that my thighs were growing warmer against Redfern's. It wasn't like he was glad to see me, as the saying goes, but it was time to get off the man's damn lap.

Redfern lifted me onto the bench beside him as Rae came back in, her arms juggling bottles of water. She was soaked through again, her streaked blond hair lying in wet wisps against her cheeks. It occurred to me I hadn't told Redfern about Jerry, a.k.a. Fitzgerald.

“Sorry,” she said breathlessly, “I thought maybe you wanted to talk to Bliss alone.”

Redfern stood up. His short hair had begun to dry and was standing up in spikes again. I wondered if they would be soft or hard to the touch. Probably soft.

“Actually, I came over to tell you both that you can stop worrying about the coywolf. The carcass in the ditch is the coywolf. In the morning, I'll call the Ministry of Natural Resources again. They'll want to take it for testing. There is still a killer at large, so I want you two to stick together as much as possible. Understand?”

He pulled a baggie out of an inner pocket and spooned some of the shepherd's pie into it. “Miss Zaborski, can you confirm who prepared this food?”

Rae's eyes surveyed the room, as if seeking help from an unseen source. Redfern waited, and at last she said in a small voice, “Sarah Quigley made it.”

“Thank you, Miss Zaborski.”

“I wish you weren't bent,” I said as Redfern put his hand on the doorknob. He turned back to look at me, then his eyes swung to Rae. She shrugged.

“You know, like the British.”

Redfern ignored me and said to Rae, “I thought she was lucid. If she gets panicky again, call me at this number.” He handed Rae a card and stepped into the driving storm.

Even a murderer wouldn't be out on such a night, so Rae and I took turns holding the flashlight while the other made use of the small clearing inside the juniper bushes.

Rae was clearly worried over her admission to Redfern, and fretted about what the morning would bring.

“You didn't have any choice,” I told her. “He already knows what Sarah is up to. He just needed confirmation. If you hadn't told him the truth, he'd have arrested you instead.”

“Do you think he'll arrest her tomorrow?”

“I have no idea.” Redfern probably found himself in quite a dilemma. Or not. I wasn't sure anymore what was going on. Even the Sopranos showed a human side occasionally.

“But,” I cautioned Rae, “if I were you, I'd avoid the Quigleys' trailer for a while and let this play out. You warned Snake, didn't you?”

“I tried to, but he wasn't there, so I asked Ewan to give Snake a message.”

“You told Ewan the cops know Sarah is the Baker?”

“Yes. He said he would give Snake the message.”

I was way too tired to smack her around, or even yell. Let Redfern figure it out.

I merely said, “Well, I'm staying away from Hemp Hollow tomorrow. And I suggest you do the same.”

With that, I pulled the thin blanket over my shoulder and Rae turned her face to the wall. We went to sleep with my baseball bat between us.