Flight of Aquavit (53 page)

“Kill Daniel.”

Daniel whipped his head to the side to get a

full bead on Herb. He tried, but no words formed

on his lips, just a strangling kind of sound. Herb

was looking only at me, his nostrils flaring like a

derby horse after an exhausting race. I was sure

sweat was beginning to lather around his neck.

“So you asked Daniel here today to do it. What

422 — F l i g h t o f A q u av i t

did you say? That you missed him and wanted to

get back together? Your plan was to get him drunk

and push him over the atrium railing. Your friend

Hugh was around with a gun, just in case the fall

didn’t quite do him in? And then you’d leave him

to clean up your mess while you headed out to

attend a family Christmas?”

“Shut up,” Herb growled at me.

“You were going to kill me?” Daniel was final-

ly able to speak. His face was crestfallen.

Herb refused to look at him. “I want to speak

with my lawyer.”

I’d say that was a yes.

Given that it was Christmas day, Darren took pity

on me and let me out of the interrogation room

much sooner than he’d probably have liked to.

Besides, within the past forty-eight hours I’d been

kidnapped and almost killed, caught a blackmailer,

solved a murder and prevented another; I deserved

a little special treatment. And, I promised to come

back early the next day.

I made it home in time to help my mother with

the final touches for our—whoa, where did
that

come from?—for
my
Christmas party and change

into something festive—wonderpants, red

sweater with white piping and a jaunty Santa hat.

The storm Jared and I had been dumped in was

long gone leaving in its wake a sparkling veneer

of fresh snow. Freezing temperatures had also

migrated north leaving sunny Saskatoon to enjoy

balmy temperatures in the minus teens.

Anthony Bidulka — 423

It was when I’d gone into my mother’s room to

retrieve some table linens she’d brought with her

from the farm and needed for the party that I saw

them. There in full view, two pieces of luggage—

hers—were open on the bed, half filled with her

things. I stood there for a minute, my mind

whirring with possible explanations for what I

was seeing.

“No find?” my mother asked me when I

returned to the kitchen empty-handed. “You look

in drawer? Dey dere.”

“Mom…your bags?”

“Ya?” She was kneading a puffy mound of raw

dough.

“Mom…I thought you were moving in…I

thought…”

“No,” she said simply, heaving over the pliable

white lump with little effort. “I go home day after

tomorrow.”

“Mom, I want you to feel welcome here…I

think…” Oh my God, was I going to say it? “I

think you should move in.” And I meant it.

“No, no, no, not time yet.”

“What? But you said you liked the garage

apartment and you said…”

“I say notting. You say.”

“But the other night, when we were talking…”

She powdered the dough with more flour and

continued her task. “Ya, ve talk. Only talk,

Sonsyou.”

I shook my head in frustration. What was

going on? Hadn’t my mother said she was moving

in? Maybe not in so many words, but…“Mom,

424 — F l i g h t o f A q u av i t

you are very welcome to move into the room over

the garage…or into the house if you want. No

need to think anything over.”

“I only look at garage to see vhat it like. To see

if dere’s room for me vhen time comes. Den you

say I move in. But I vait, I tink. Not time yet.”

“No?”

“I’m only sixty-two, Sonsyou. I need de farm. I

need my garden and flowers and lady friends.

Not noise and smoke in air and city craziness. But

vhen eet’s time…I know. And den…mebbe den…I

come here mebbe.”

I nodded. I think I understood. I could see not

wanting to live in Bill’s house with four kids, all of

whom one day soon would be teenagers. And I’ve

long suspected Mother and Bill’s wife, Adrian,

only tolerate one another. As far as Joanne is con-

cerned, she’s still looking for herself and enjoying

a swinging single life. She switches jobs, apart-

ments and cities more often than most. And, she

obviously isn’t anxious to leave Saskatchewan.

Moving away from the farm would be a big

enough step for her when the time came. So that

left…me? Had I somehow become the child with

the most attractive and stable lifestyle? How could

that have happened? True, I didn’t have a hoard of

human noise-makers running around the house, I

did have a comfortable home and a garden and a

nice quiet dog (or two) that I returned to every

night (almost) and I did live only an hour away

from the beloved farm.

Oh my gosh. It was true.

I smiled—big.

Anthony Bidulka — 425

“Sonsyou.” My mother had stopped with her

doughy ministrations and was looking right at

me. “Dyiakyou for vanting me.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I love you, Sonsyou.”

I always knew my mother loved me and I her,

but we rarely said the words. And to hear it at that

moment, in my home, both of us knowing that

some day we’d end up together, just as we began

together, was pretty powerful. Powerful and won-

derful.

Which meant the conversation was over. My

mother went back to her cinnamon-bun-making

and I went to check my hair.

The first to arrive was Sereena who entered with a

flourish of crinoline and taffeta in tones of rich

burgundy, mistletoe green and Devonshire cream.

Her head was covered with scores of precise

ringlets and sparkling, jewelled hairpins. She was

Mrs. Claus’ younger and more stylish sister.

“Here, I brought you a little something,” she

said as she deposited her silk wrap in my waiting

hands along with a crumpled brown paper bag.

I peeked inside and pulled out a bottle of gold-

en liquid. Lysholm Linie Aquavit from Norway. I

gave my friend a fond and appreciative grin.

“I thought it was an appropriate reminder of

our time together in New York.”

“Shall we?” I said, eyeing the bottle like

Groucho Marx—minus the eyebrows.

She tilted her head enticingly and purred,

426 — F l i g h t o f A q u av i t

“There’s no time like the present.”

But at that moment the doorbell rang again. I

placed the bottle on the foyer table and opened the

door. It was Kelly and Errall. I hugged Kelly and

felt an unfamiliar stiffening. But before I could

think too much about it, the parade began. Mary

and Marushka came next, followed by Anthony

and Jared. Barbra and Brutus were the first to wel-

come everyone with feverishly wagging tails. As

the day moved from early to late afternoon, the

noise and activity level in my little house grew in

intensity as more people come’d’n’go’d. Drinks

were imbibed and food was scarfed down, calo-

ries be damned. Amongst the holiday revellers

were Alberta and her Indo-Canadian snake-

charmer date, the three monkey ladies, Lilly and

Beverly and their husbands and kids, and about a

dozen others.

When the mass had grown big enough that I

knew I wouldn’t be missed if I slipped out, I

grabbed Kelly and asked her to join me for a walk.

She wasn’t happy about it. She knew what was

coming but complied anyway.

Once we were bundled up appropriately for

the weather and on the street heading nowhere in

particular, I began. “Kelly, I need to know what’s

going on with you. I’m worried about you and I

want to help. But I can’t do that unless I really

understand what’s happening. I know you’re still

dealing with your cancer, but there’s something

more.”

Surprisingly she readily agreed. “You’re right.”

Okay. Hmm. Now what? “So what is it?”

Anthony Bidulka — 427

“That’s part of the problem, Russell. I don’t real-

ly know. You’re right though. I am still freaked

about being sick. I’m afraid that will never go

away. And if it does…if it does I don’t know who

I’m going to be.”

I watched puffs of air escaping Kelly’s mouth,

the only things making sense to me right then.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m a different person than I was before the

cancer, Russell. And I might never be the same

again. I can’t explain it. It’s like I can see the

woman I am right now, I can see what she’s like,

what she’s doing. I can see she’s not me. I don’t

even like her very much, but it’s like I’m power-

less to leave her behind, to go back to who I was.

Can you…can you understand that at all?

Probably not, it sounds crazy even to me, but it’s

exactly how I feel right now.”

This was the most I’d ever heard Kelly talk

about herself at one time. That alone was different

from the Kelly I’d always known. And what she

was saying was disturbing, maybe even a little

frightening to me. But I could see it myself. This

woman was different. I wrapped an arm around

her and again felt the stiffening. I so wanted

everything to be perfect or at the very least, the

way it used to be. It was Christmastime for Pete’s

sake. My case was solved. My mother and I had

come to a new level of understanding with one

another, an understanding that someday would

change my life—but not right now. It had taken an

evening of nearly freezing to our deaths, but I had

also come to some important realizations about

428 — F l i g h t o f A q u av i t

my feelings for Jared and respect for his relation-

ship with Anthony. I now had two dogs and that

was okay; I was up to the responsibility. So why

wasn’t Kelly jumping in line, completing the pic-

ture of my life in good order?

We walked on and talked some more, but there

were no easy answers to this one—and, like in my

line of work, I had to accept that sometimes there

are none.

As we retraced our steps and approached the

house, we both saw a car idling nearby. A black

BMW. Before I’d departed the police station I’d

left a note for Daniel asking him to join our party

when they’d finished with him. He’d lost both his

wife and…friend?… lover?…that day. Who did he

have left to spend Christmas with?

“Someone you know?” Kelly asked as we came

closer.

“Client,” I told her.

“I’ll go in then,” she said and started to head

towards the gate that leads to my house.

I pulled her to a stop and into a bear hug. No

stiffness this time. It was a start. I hoped.

I waited until I saw Kelly step into the yard

before I walked up to the driver’s side of Daniel’s

car. Daniel got out and we fumbled through an

awkward

handshake-come-hug.

“Merry

Christmas, Daniel!” I couldn’t help wonder how

the recent events in his life would affect him.

Would he too be forever changed? But for him

would it be for the better?

“Merry Christmas, Russell. I got your message

to stop by. Thank you.”

Anthony Bidulka — 429

“No problem. Why don’t you come in? Get ya

some food and drink.”

“I’m afraid I can’t stay.”

“Is everything all right?” Stupid question. Of

course everything wasn’t all right. “How did

things go at the police station?”

“It was…it was okay. There’s a lot to talk

about. Going back tomorrow. Right now I just feel

utterly exhausted. I don’t want to face anyone

right now, I know you understand. I need to be

alone. But I wanted to come by and thank you for

all you did.”

“I know it’s not how you hoped things would

turn out, Daniel, but at least it’s over. And I’m sure

the police will do their best to keep the details

quiet.”

He shrugged as if that was the least of his wor-

ries. And he was probably right. “I need to go.”

He turned away then stopped himself. “Russell—

I want you to know—you’ve given me a very spe-

cial gift this Christmas.”

“Oh?” I said, unsure of what he meant.

“You’ve opened my eyes to a new way of life.

You’ve shown me that who I might be inside

is…well, maybe he’s not such a bad guy.” Might

be? Maybe? I was disappointed. Hadn’t the last

couple of weeks taught him anything at all? “I

want to be happier, Russell. I don’t know what’s