The Dead List (19 page)

Her smile dropped as she let go of Drake’s hand. When she stood back Drake was able to see her clearly under the overhead lights of the showroom. She was more than attractive; she was quite stunning. She wore a gold blouse and straight black jeans, and had a chain around her neck. There was a healthy glow to her face, and her blond hair curled stylishly around her face. The salesman looked at his watch and moved sideways toward one of the offices, watching Drake and the woman from the corner of his eye.

Being in the company of such a charming woman was helping him fight his hangover. He wasn’t feeling better, but he wasn’t feeling as bad as he had an hour ago. That seemed like progress. He tried to focus his eyes and clear his foggy head. “Mrs. Parker, I was hoping to speak to your husband.” His parched mouth made his voice sound raspy.  

“I was too, but apparently he’s not here. We have different schedules most mornings. He left early; I’m assuming he’s out on an appraisal, looking at a car somewhere.” The explanation hung in the air, and Drake didn’t question it.

“Can I buy you a cup of coffee while you wait for Dave, Officer?” She pointed to a coffee machine that was mounted on a wall at the rear of the building.

Coffee sounded perfect. He needed to unclog his head from last night’s drinking session with Pringle. He’d had to absorb too much information this morning already. She was tall and had a long stride. He walked behind her as she called out to the salesman. “Brian, I emailed the photos of the new fixtures to Sarah.”

The man began to object, but Mrs. Parker interrupted him, laughing. “Yes, she does. It’s important to spend money, Brian, that’s what keeps our economy moving. The two of you have to come over and see it when it’s finished.”

Brian Stam was the name of the salesman that Pringle and Myron had interviewed. He taught Sunday school at First Mennonite Church. He laughed back and thanked her, although Drake wasn’t sure what for.

Even though the salesman had retreated to an office and shut the door behind him, Mrs. Parker leaned close to Drake and whispered as they reached the coffee machine. Her scent was faint, and instead of making him feel nauseated it warmed him. “I’m having my bathroom redone, and I want Brian’s wife to see the fixtures I’ve picked out. I just commissioned the carpenters to start work.”

She held firmly on to his arm and invited him to fill two cups with coffee. Maybe it was her touch, maybe it was the alcohol from the night before blurring his thoughts, or maybe it was the postcards that were sitting in his drawer constantly threatening his mortality. He felt a little lost – a little lightheaded. He didn’t feel as though he was standing in a car dealership in Hope. Part of him was still in Ireland – the eyes of the little girl who died burning into him. Mrs. Parker took the cup of coffee from him, and he tried to focus. There was a large, exquisitely chiseled diamond ring on her wedding finger. The boys from back home who played around with other men’s wives called them backscratchers. It’s funny, the thoughts that come to a man when he has shadows haunting him.

They sat side by side on chairs against the wall at the rear of the building. After imploring Drake to call her Jennifer, she flicked off the bank of wall switches. The only light in the showroom was from the emergency lights and a couple of spotlights set up around the cars in the center of the room. “I like it when the natural light comes in the glass at the front. It shines on the cars. You know what it’s like here. We never get enough sunny days.”

If Parker was playing around with his receptionist, then he was a fool. From what Drake could see he had everything he needed right at home. Jennifer Parker wasn’t as young as the woman who listened to her police scanner, but she had a grace about her, and seemed to be one of those women who would grow more attractive as she became older.

“How did you know my name, Mrs. Parker?” A look and a shy smile corrected him. “I’m sorry, Jennifer.”

“My husband tells me everything that happens at work, Officer. Everything. We have a very open relationship – no secrets. He described you perfectly.”

Drake smiled at her and sat in his chair, waiting.

“Okay – tall, very tall, and broad-shouldered. Looks efficient, but has a bit of a mischievous streak in him.”

Drake straightened up. “He said that?”

She covered her mouth, holding back a laugh. “No, I made that part up, but yes, it’s right there.” She held her finger in the air between them, pointing at his face. “I believe you do.”

They continued to sit side by side. She sipped at her coffee. Drake took large mouthfuls of his and stared past the cars out the large glass windows at the lot. When he looked over at the woman his gaze lazily fell on the gaps between the buttonholes of her blouse. The thin, gold chain was barely visible through the small opening. As she moved slightly, he could see her...

She was watching him. Drawing in his breath, he quickly looked up at her eyes. She smiled and did nothing to adjust her body. After a moment they turned away from each other and continued staring out toward the front window.

She spoke first. “We miss Mike; we all do. We may not show our emotions as we continue running our business, but believe me, we do miss him.”

Still gazing forward, Drake tried to recover and become a policeman again. “He’s a hard man to investigate. It’s been difficult trying to piece together his personality. It’s like no one can describe him.”

She answered immediately. “That’s because he was like family.” She put her cup down on one of the desks. “He’d been with us for a long time, and he’s an original here – from Hope. We protect our family in this business, Officer. I’m sure you can understand that.”

She wasn’t unkind when she told him, but she was firm, and Drake understood what she meant. Since he’d moved to Hope, he’d heard people talk about someone who “wasn’t really from there” even though they’d lived in the town for twenty years or more. Robinson and his family were originals; she didn’t just mean that he was family because he worked at the dealership. He had ties beyond that.

“You grew up here too, Jennifer?”

“We all went to high school together. Some of us were a year or two below.” She fluttered her eyelids and gave her shy smile again. In that moment it was impossible to tell if she was thirty or fifty. She had an alluring quality that didn’t rely on youth. “I’m only two years younger than my husband, but I do like to remind him.”

The coffee was helping, but the fogginess was still in his head. He smiled back, and the skin on his cheeks and forehead stretched tighter.

“And you all ended up working together.”

“Eventually, yes. Mike didn’t come to us right away. He worked at the mill for a while, but he was a personable guy so Dave hired him. He was a good, dependable man.”

She was remembering; her eyes watered. There were no crocodile tears from this woman. It seemed like genuine emotion.

His mobile phone rang, and he bolted upright. “Excuse me, I have to take this.” He pushed the receive button and walked a couple of paces away.

Veronica spoke in her official voice. “Constable Drake, I have a message from Sergeant Thiessen. He needs you to meet him on site at a B and E as soon as possible.” She sounded like she was out of breath.

He spoke quietly back into the phone. “I’m a bit tied up. Can someone else assist, Veronica?”

“Negative, Officer. You were specifically requested. I have a location for you.” Thiessen was attending a break and enter call, and it was still early morning. That didn’t make sense. Something had happened.

“Give me five. I’ll radio you from the cruiser.”

Jennifer had dried her tears with a small, silk handkerchief. Her long legs were tucked to one side as she watched him.

Drake wished he could sit with her all morning and listen to her voice while he waited for his hangover to dissipate. “I need to go. Thank you for the coffee. I’ll drop by and see your husband later. Can you tell him I was here please?”

“I hope your call was nothing serious.” Her mouth remained slightly open as she waited for an answer.

Once again his eyes gravitated toward the open button at the top of her blouse. He corrected himself and looked up into her eyes. “It’s a break-in. My sergeant needs me to back him up.” He drank the few remaining drops of coffee from his cup.

“I think you enjoyed my coffee, Officer Drake.”

He nodded. “Yes, I enjoyed it very much. And I enjoyed meeting you too, Jennifer.” He had. She was the most human of all of Robinson’s acquaintances that he’d met. He was several paces away when he stopped. Maybe he should try a Ryberg trick. Thiessen could wait for a moment. When he turned back she was relaxed, sitting in the chair, her legs stretched out in front of her. She wasn’t watching him; she was staring into space, lost in thought already. He took a chance. “Jennifer, are you familiar with Frank Wilson, Derek Rochfort, and Trevor Middleton?” He left Monica’s name from his query for now.

She waited a moment, but then looked at him, focusing. Nothing moved. “Yes, all originals, even poor Trevor.”

Drake took a step toward her. “What were they up to, Mrs. Parker? Were they part of a financial scheme?”

The alertness was back in her eyes. Very carefully, she cocked her head to one side and answered. “I’m unaware of any scheme.” She quickly came back from her trance. Her laughter echoed loudly, jolting the showroom to life. “A scheme? Those turkeys couldn’t come up with a scheme to save themselves. Mike and Dave sold cars and the rest of them have their own lives.” She laughed again. “No, I don’t believe they were up to anything.”

He moved a step closer to her. “And Trevor, why did you call him poor Trevor?”

She watched him carefully as though he were a child learning to ride a bicycle. Her words were slow, patient. “Because he’s a lost soul. I was glad when Dave parted ways with him. Trevor Middleton is an unpredictable man, Officer Drake. My husband was better off without him.”

“And the fact that he’s gay…”

She leaned forward, not letting him finish. “What business is it of mine if a man wants to live with another man? Who am I to judge? Some may not approve, but I won’t be the one to judge. We all have our sins, but remember what I said.” A phone rang and the ring was amplified over the loudspeaker. “Trevor isn’t who he appears to be, and he never was.”

The voice of Brian, the salesman who had retreated to his office, sounded throughout the showroom. “Jennifer Parker, line one please.”

She kept sitting with her hands on her knees. Jennifer Parker was a very complex woman.

Drake nodded toward her. “Thank you, Jennifer. You’ve been very helpful.”

As he reached the door she called after him. “I hope you find who did this to Mike, Officer Drake.”

He walked to his patrol car. If Ryberg’s hunch was correct and there was something between Parker and his receptionist, then Drake did not understand relationships. You never know what truly happens inside a person’s home, but it didn’t make sense to leave a woman like that alone and sit in a bar with men like Wilson and Rochfort. Robinson had no one, but Dave Parker could have been at home with his wife.

He thought of his own life. He had nobody. There had been a woman before he left – before he had to leave. They weren’t in a romantic relationship. She came over from time to time and they slept together. She’d leave before morning and go home. She had a young child who always seemed to have a cold of some sort, and she didn’t want to leave the child with the neighbor for a whole night. It wasn’t a relationship; it was a convenience. There had been no bond or commitment, and he’d left it – all of it. And now he had the same type of existence that Michael Robinson had. The phone number that Tracy, the waitress, had given him was still in his pocket. Calling her would be pushing his luck – breaking the rules. He was supposed to be on the outside of life, looking in. There would be no settling for him, no normalcy. There couldn’t be.

He radioed to Veronica and backed out past the row of salespeople’s cars in the staff parking area. All of the slots were empty except for the same two vehicles that had been there earlier. Both had the distinctive dealer or “D” plates on the back. One of them looked familiar. It was the same sporty, red car that had been parked outside Tony Hempsill’s house the night before. He was sure of it.

Sergeant Thiessen’s patrol car with its distinctive “supervisor” markings was parked in front of the house. His arms were folded in front of him and his head was hanging down, chin touching his chest. He was staring in the opposite direction, mumbling to himself, and didn’t seem to notice Drake at first. Drake got out of his car and looked up and down the street. Coquihalla Road was very different from the rest of the town. Like Cobalt Street, the majority of these homes were old, but that’s where the similarities ended. The residences sat on large lots and were in immaculate condition. Some had been modernized and had glass or granite walls jutting out at unusual angles, but most of them looked like they’d been preserved from the 1920s. The house where Mike Robinson had lived was definitely older style. The picturesque residence was set on a small hill and had a short path that wound down to a driveway. When Thiessen saw Drake he threw his cap into his car and walked toward him.

“I hadn’t even had breakfast when I got the call; I was barely up. She wanted to speak to me directly. Those animals got into her house last night. They broke in.”

Thiessen rubbed his unshaven chin. He glared at Drake, and then he too, looked up and down the street.

“She didn’t hear anything? How did they get inside?”

Thiessen shook his head. “No forced entry. Now, take a moment, Constable Drake. See if you can figure out how they got in. Come on, no prizes for guessing who they are, or how they gained entry.”

He felt like he’d been kicked in the stomach. The calmness that Jennifer Parker’s company had temporarily afforded him was instantly extinguished. How could they have missed it? The two boys had lied. There had been one more item in Mike Robinson’s pockets, and Anton Van Dyke and his sidekick had lifted it from him. They’d questioned him and his partner about car keys, but they hadn’t asked about house keys. They’d all missed it, even Ryberg. Drake swore and turned away from the sergeant in frustration. He stared up at the windows. The woman had lost her son, and now the boys who found his body had broken into her house.