My Sister's Keeper (2 page)

W
e smelled something rotting as soon as we stepped inside the house. I turned to Cheri, who was following me like a shadow.

“Your power must have been off. You could have a fridge full of ruined food.”

“Whatever is causing that smell is disgusting. Phew.”

I looked around Cheri and Jimmy’s house. It was an older bungalow on a two-acre lot in Manotick, a village a half-hour outside the city. Oak floors and cream-coloured walls made for a warm front hall. Cheri had always liked the finer things in life. I spotted expensive-looking paintings and leather furniture on our way to the kitchen.

Cheri crossed to the fridge and opened the door. She turned to look at me. Her face made it clear she was puzzled. “That’s odd. The food in the fridge
is fine.” She checked the garbage under the sink. “Nothing here either.”

A shiver travelled up my spine, even though it was warm in the kitchen. Maybe it wasn’t rotting food that we were smelling. “I could use some tea,” I said. I sent her a shaky smile. “Why don’t you make a pot while I go to the washroom?”

“If you like.”

I made my way down the hall, checking each room as I went. The guest bedroom looked fine and the bathroom was clean. That brought me to the master bedroom. The smell was getting stronger. The door was half shut. I slowly pushed it open. My breath caught in my throat.

The bloody carcass of a small animal lay squarely in the middle of Cheri’s bed. White maggots crawled all over its rotting flesh. The duvet cover was stained dark red. I forced down my breakfast, then slammed the door and leaned against it. I tried to still my pounding heart.

Cheri appeared at the end of the hallway, holding two different packages of tea. “Would you like mint or . . .”

She stopped talking and looked at me. Her pale face got even whiter.

I took a step toward her. “I think we should call the police,” I said calmly. “Somebody has left a dead animal on your bed. By what’s left of its fur, I’d say a raccoon. Likely roadkill.”

Cheri’s eyes got wide and her mouth opened in a silent scream. I almost reached her before she slid into a heap on the floor. I crouched down next to Cheri and checked her pulse. It was beating like a sledge hammer.

She came to quickly. When she looked up at me, her eyes were panicked. She grabbed my shirt and pulled my face close to hers.

“We can’t call the police,” she begged. “Jimmy will know. All the cops look after each other. You know that.”

“It might not be Jimmy doing this.” Not the Jimmy I remembered.

“He’s the only one with a key to the house.”

“Then, we’ll prove it’s him.”

“Not if his cop friends get involved. Promise me you won’t call them.”

I tried to calm Cheri down but she got even more upset. Finally, I agreed to keep the dead raccoon a secret, against my better judgement.

“I’m going to get the locks changed while you have a nap in the spare room,” I said. “I’ll get rid
of the dead animal right after I find a locksmith. It means a drive to the nearest mall to find a dumpster. But the smell is only going to ripen, and you’ll thank me later.” I wondered how long I could hold my breath. “I sure hope you own a full can of air freshener,” I said. “And a full bottle of Scotch would come in handy too, for when I get back.”

I
bagged the raccoon and bedding and opened all the windows. After dumping the bag in the garage, I sat at Cheri’s kitchen table thinking about Jimmy Wilson. We’d met at the Orillia police academy almost twelve years ago. I was attracted to his wide smile, curly black hair, and Irish charm. Jimmy was the kind of guy who lit up a room and worked it like a movie star. I felt like the luckiest girl alive when he zoomed in on me.

Four years after we started dating, Jimmy asked me to marry him. We’d both gotten jobs on the Ottawa force and we’d put a down payment on a house in Sandy Hill. I was twenty-four and head over heels for him. That loving feeling died, however, when he slept with my twenty-two-year-old sister, Cheri. I was working a night shift. Cheri was visiting for the weekend.

For three years after their wedding, I avoided my fiancé turned brother-in-law while we worked in the same unit on the Ottawa force. I always made sure Cheri and Jimmy weren’t at my father’s before I went to visit. I stopped dating altogether.

Footsteps in the hallway pulled me back into the present. Cheri had climbed out of bed and was crossing to the bathroom. A few minutes later, she joined me at the kitchen table. She looked terrible, and had spidery red lines criss-crossing the side of her face she’d pressed into the pillow.

I pushed a notepad and pen in front of her. “I’ll make coffee, and you write down everyone in your life: names, relationship to you, possible motive. We have to treat this like a real investigation.”

“Even if Jimmy is the only suspect?”

“Even if.”

She lifted the pen and began writing. Her other hand cupped her chin, her elbow resting on the table. I made the coffee strong and sweet. I set cups on the table and sat next to her.

“Have you defended any unhappy clients?” I asked.

“I defended a nineteen-year-old for dealing drugs. He’s serving eight years. His father was angry and said I should pay for not getting him off.”

“What’s the father’s name?”

“Gavin Long. He used to belong to a biker gang.”

“Lovely. Write him down.” I looked at the list. “There are six people in your law office?”

“Yes. The owner Bob Cahill, me, and two newer lawyers, Hannah Jones and Roger Little. We have one legal assistant named Janet Chan and an office manager, Betty Zimmer.”

“And you were being made partner?”

“Yes. I earned it too.” Her jaw jutted out. It was a defiant look I knew only too well. “I worked long hours and took on tough cases. Our firm is doing very well. We plan to move to a bigger office in a few weeks. We’re holding interviews for two more junior lawyers.”

“What about affairs? Are you or Jimmy involved in one?”

Cheri lifted her big blue eyes to mine. We both knew what I was thinking. Both of them were capable. “I’m not,” she said. “But Jimmy could be. I think that’s one of the reasons he moved out.”

“You’re not sure?”

“No.”

I made some notes next to the names she’d written down. I was quite certain her doctor, dentist, hairdresser, and manicurist were not out
to kill her, but I would check them out too. “Is there anything else you need to tell me?” I asked.

Cheri nodded. “I started getting phone calls in the middle of the night right after Jimmy left. At first they hung up without saying anything. Then, they’d tell me my life was going to end soon. I also started getting emails at work that said awful things, like Evan and Jimmy were better off without me. I began thinking I was being followed. Sometimes, things were moved around in my office or at home. I thought I was losing my mind.”

“When they phoned, was it a man or woman?”

“I couldn’t tell. I’d be half asleep and they spoke so low.”

“What about the emails—did you get a return address?”

“They were from a Gmail account with no name. I printed the emails and filed them away at work. Then I deleted them. They made me sick. One said that if I told anyone, Evan would disappear.”

“I’m going to start at your office. I want to read those emails.”

Cheri stood up. “Then I’m coming with you.”

C
ahill Law Office was located on the tenth floor of a downtown high rise. Jada Price, a former classmate of mine at the police academy, was the security person seated behind the desk at the front door. She took one look at me and said, “Well I’ll be. It’s Anna Sweet in the flesh. You look good, girl.”

“And so do you,” I said.

Jada had let her hair grow into an Afro and she looked fierce—liquid black eyes and a short, muscular build. Jada once told me that her great-grandparents were slaves in the Southern States and she’d inherited their physical strength. She’d even trained as an Olympic hurdler. But she missed out on the games because of an injury.

Jada’s eyes darted between me and Cheri. She knew our history. “How you doing, Cheri?” she asked. She didn’t give Cheri a chance to respond. “Up to any police work, Anna?” she asked.

“No,” I said. “I’ve been working in bars across the U.S. I plan on hitting Asia next.”

Jada shook her head. “Such a waste of your talents.” She looked around the lobby. “And mine.”

“I thought you got a job with the Ottawa force,” I said.

“I got sick of being the token black girl handing out parking tickets. I quit two years ago. I’ve only worked security the last year, while getting some things in order.”

Cheri had drifted over to the elevators. “Well, good seeing you, Jada,” I said. I signed the visitors’ book and followed Cheri.

“Jada didn’t make any friends while she worked for the police,” said Cheri as the elevator door closed. “Jimmy told me that she spoke her mind too much. She even accused one of the officers of sexual harassment. They were happy when she quit.”

“Which officer did she accuse?”

“Jimmy never said.”

I took out my notepad. “Looks like we just found another name for your list.”

*********

The office manager, Betty Zimmer, was a tiny woman about sixty-five years old. She greeted Cheri warmly and said she was relieved to see Cheri back at work. “Would you like some tea?” she asked. “My, that’s some lump on your forehead, Cheri dear.”

Betty didn’t seem to realize that we were sisters. Most people didn’t know we were related when they first met us. I was five foot nine with a mess of dark hair and dark brown eyes. Cheri was petite, curvy, and blonde with china blues. Betty must have assumed I was her client.

Cheri kept walking with her chin up in the air. “No tea, Betty.” She ignored the comment about her injury.

We passed by an office and two surprised faces turned toward us. I correctly guessed they were Hannah Jones and Roger Little—the two other lawyers on staff. Both were dressed in expensive navy suits and stylish glasses. Hannah stood first and came to give Cheri a hug.

“So good to see you back,” Hannah said. “Are you recovered from the accident?”

Roger gave Cheri a quick hug. “We’ve been very worried about you.” He was tall and lean with a shaved head. I pictured him on a bike pedalling for a finish line after a six-hour triathlon.

Hannah and Roger stood looking at me through their designer glasses. Roger’s eyes were intense, like those of someone who had a religion they wanted you to join. I held out my hand.

“I’m Anna Sweet,” I said. “Just visiting Cheri.” I shot Cheri a look to keep her mouth shut about us being sisters. Luckily, she had taken Jimmy Wilson’s last name when they married, so my last name was different from hers.

Cheri played along. She pointed toward her office. “We came by to pick up a folder but I’ll be off the rest of the week. I plan to be back in the office soon, though.”

“Why, that’s wonderful,” Hannah said. “We’ve missed you around here.” Hannah wore her red hair in a tight bun and appeared to be an expert with the makeup brush. Her eyelids were dusted in blue shadow and her lips were glossy pink. She was attractive if you liked that straight-laced, librarian-in-a-tight-skirt look.

“I hope you haven’t had to take on too many of my cases,” Cheri said. “I felt bad leaving you both with extra work.”

“We enjoyed the challenge,” Roger said. “I went to court the last few weeks and got two of your clients off fraud charges. Both of them were
probably guilty. But it was fun convincing the judge they weren’t.”

“You should have seen Roger in action,” Hannah laughed. “He danced circles around the prosecution.”

“It was great fun,” said Roger. “So you’re really feeling better, then, Cheri? We’d heard that you were having a rough go.” He rubbed his hand back and forth across his bald head while he spoke. His eyes stared at the lump on Cheri’s forehead.

“I’m much better now, thanks,” Cheri said. “Is Bob in?”

“He’s having a meeting with Janet,” said Hannah. “They’re working on the office move.”

Bob Cahill, boss, and Janet Chan, legal assistant—I remembered their names from the list. They must have heard our voices because they both suddenly appeared from his office. They took turns hugging Cheri. Cheri introduced me as her visiting friend.

Bob was another tall man, but older than Roger and with a full head of white hair. “So when will you be back?” he asked Cheri after shaking my hand.

“I’m hoping by the start of next week,” she said. She was putting on an Oscar-winning performance. Nobody would believe this was the same pale, frantic woman I’d sat with a few hours earlier.

A look passed between Bob and Janet. The look was personal: the kind shared by two people who are jumping each other’s bones. I would bet money that they were more than just boss and legal assistant. She was short with black hair to her waist. Attractive if you like that temptress-in-a-low-cut-top look.

Bob cleared his throat. “We are looking forward to your return, Cheri. I’ve put a few new cases on hold for your review.”

“I can’t wait to come back,” Cheri said, smiling. “I’ll be rested and raring to go.”

C
heri collapsed against her seat and closed her eyes. She looked drained of energy. I reached over and patted her knee.

“Well played, sister,” I said. “Dad would be proud.”

She turned her head to face me and grinned. “Never show your underbelly. If you’re hurting, suck it up. Act like a champion and you’ll be one.”

I started the truck. “If we had a dollar for every time he drilled that into us.”

“We could retire in style,” said Cheri. “Where to next?”

“Your place. I need some sleep and so do you. Tomorrow is going to be a big day. I’m going to track down the other people on your list.”

“I could come with you,” Cheri offered. She shivered.

“I thought you could stay with Dad for the day. I’ll move around better alone. You’ll be safe with him.”

“Won’t that be fun.” Cheri sounded like she’d just been told to eat her broccoli, but there was relief too.