The Gifted (13 page)

“No, in Calgary.”

“An hour’s flight from here. Tell him to hop a plane, come to our place, have a drink, and look at the painting. We’ll even introduce him to the artist.”

“I’ll pass that along,” Darrell said. He jammed his hands in his jacket pockets. “Zack, I know I’m skating on thin ice here, but you know the Treadgolds. What do you think is going to happen to
BlueBoy21
?”

“Beats me,” Zack said.

Darrell’s expression was cool and amused. “Well, Taylor’s professional career is certainly off to a dramatic start.”

“It is,” I said. “Especially considering that she won’t even be fifteen till next week.”

CHAPTER
6

Getting the Racette-Hunter project underway demanded time and energy from everyone involved. The art auction had been our major fundraiser, and I had anticipated that after it was over, I’d be able to relax: shop for some fun birthday gifts for Taylor, catch up on my reading, work with Brock on a political playbook for North Central, and sit in front of the fireplace with Zack enjoying life.

However, as Robbie Burns famously noted, “The best-laid schemes o’ mice and men gang aft a’gley.” Our weekend was miserable. There was no word from Vince. The private investigators discovered that Vince had flown north to Prince Albert on a commercial flight and then seemingly vanished. November is white-tailed deer season in our province and Vince was a hunter. Zack thought that Vince might have rented a private plane and gone to a hunting lodge. Every time I looked at the deepening of Zack’s worry lines, I knew that he wasn’t buying his own theory, and I was angry. Vince knew that people would be concerned about him. If he was sober, it was unconscionable that he hadn’t let someone know he was safe. The only
logical conclusion was that wherever he was, Vince was drinking.

The news about Riel was equally grim. When I told Mieka about Riel’s anger at the meeting, she’d immediately tried to get in touch with him. She’d left messages and texted, but Riel hadn’t responded, and Mieka was anxious.

Monday just after Taylor left for school, my cell rang. Zack and I were still at the breakfast table. It was Celeste Treadgold asking if I could please have lunch with her. It was a simple request, but I could hear the anguish in her voice. It occurred to me that she would have been old enough to remember Vince’s drinking and disappearances. The possibility that the cycle had begun again clearly terrified her. We agreed to meet at noon at Orange, a Japanese–Korean fusion restaurant in the Cathedral District. I’d just hung up when Zack’s phone rang. He listened for a moment and mouthed Vince’s name.

I waited until the call ended. “Is Vince all right?” I said.

“He’s fine. As I suspected, he went up north to hunt.”

I felt my gorge rise. “Why didn’t he call?”

“I don’t know. I’m just relieved that he’s okay. Jo, I know you’re angry that Vince didn’t get in touch with anyone, but he’s been through hell. Please, cut him a little slack.”

“When is he coming home?”

“Not till next week.”

“I overheard you asking Vince about what he did after the auction.”

“I did, and in a nutshell, after the auction, Vince got scared sober. When he left the hotel, he thought he was capable of driving. Within five minutes, he realized he wasn’t. He pulled over, parked, then walked to the Senator – that dive where we have our poker games – and registered for the night. The next morning he made arrangements to fly up north.”

“But you must have checked at the Senator.”

“That was first place I went, but Vince was already gone by the time I got there. There was a new guy on the front desk. He didn’t know me, and the Senator’s staff are known for never volunteering information about their guests. Anyway, end of story.”

“Not quite,” I said. “What about the smashed headlight?”

“Vince doesn’t remember hitting anything,” Zack said. “He doesn’t have the keys to the
SUV
, so it’s a safe assumption he left them in the vehicle.”

“And somebody just happened by, took the
SUV
for a spin, hit something with sufficient force to knock out the headlight, then dumped the vehicle off in the Sears parking lot?”

“That appears to be the case,” Zack said amiably.

“End of discussion?” I said.

“Nothing more to discuss,” Zack said.

“Then we might as well move along,” I said. “Does Lauren know that Vince is okay?”

“No. Vince called the hospital and after he talked to me he was going to call Celeste. But he doesn’t want to talk to Lauren.”

“That’s understandable,” I said, “but Lauren
is
Vince’s wife. She has a right to know that he’s safe, especially since he plans to stay up north for a week.”

“Point taken,” Zack said. He picked up his cell, hit speed-dial, and left a message for Lauren that was curt but not unfriendly. Then he turned to me. “Good enough?”

“Good enough,” I said, but I was still uneasy. “This isn’t over, is it?”

“No,” Zack said. “I’m sure you noticed that when I asked Lauren if we should contact the authorities, she said, ‘No police
yet
.’ ”

“I noticed,” I said. “Do you think calling the police is
Lauren’s trump card to get what she wants from Vince?”

“That’s exactly what I think,” Zack said. “I don’t know what Lauren wants, but whatever it is, I don’t like the game she’s playing.”

Zack slid his smartphone into his pocket. “Vince is a helluva poker player,” he said.

“Where did that come from?” I said.

“Remember that line from the old Kenny Rogers’s song about gamblers having to know when to hold ’em and know when to fold ’em? Vince has always had a sixth sense about knowing when it’s time to walk away from the table.”

“And you think it’s time for Vince to walk away from Lauren?”

“No,” he said. “In my opinion, it’s time for Vince to run.”

The Cathedral area of our city is a fine place to wander on a lazy afternoon. Within a six-block area, you can find pickerel caught that morning in Lac La Ronge, handcrafted silver jewellery, maternity leggings for a groovy mama, a dazzling blue dendrobium orchid, and the funkiest sandals on the planet. You can also eat at one of a half-dozen quiet restaurants with adventurous menus and servers who neither hover nor hurry.

Celeste had reserved a window table, and I was able to watch as she got out of her car, hesitated, lit a cigarette, sucked deeply, then lowered her head against the wind and walked towards the restaurant. As she faced the entrance, Celeste took a long final drag before she threw the cigarette to the sidewalk and ground it out with the toe of her boot.

She was wearing jeans, a pea jacket, one of the crimson Racette-Hunter scarves, and a black toque with ear flaps. When she spotted me, she gave a little wave and came over to the table. “I’m glad you could make it,” she said.

She slid into her seat, removed her jacket, and whipped off her toque. “Since my father went missing I’ve been
crazy,” she said. “Now that he’s safe, I’m still crazy. I’m relieved, but I’m angry at him. What kind of person am I to react that way?”

“A normal person,” I said. “Every so often when my kids were little, one of them would get lost. I’d be frantic – imagining the worst. Then I’d find them and all the while I was hugging and reassuring them, I’d be fuming because they’d frightened me so much.”

Celeste ran her fingers through her wavy butterscotch-coloured hair. “That happened to my mother and me,” she said softly. “I wandered off in a department store and when she found me she was laughing and crying at the same time. I’d never seen anyone do that. She covered my face with kisses, but all the time she was kissing me she was whispering, ‘Ne me refais plus ça, chérie. Ne me brise pas le coeur.’ ”

“You and your mother spoke French to each other,” I said.

“Yes,” she said. “We always spoke French. It was like a secret language. A secret language, now lost.”

There were no words to lessen Celeste’s sorrow, and I was relieved when the server arrived with water and the wine list. We both ordered a glass of Argentinian Malbec.

Celeste picked up the menu. “I’ve never eaten here,” she said. “What do you recommend?”

“Well, Taylor likes the okanomi yaki and the tako yaki.”

Celeste skimmed the menu and made a face. “Deep-fried squid with cabbage pancakes and deep-fried octopus with dumpling balls? I don’t think so. What do you and Zack like?

“We usually order dishes that we can split: gyoza, and yakitori chicken and kushiyaki.”

Celeste read out: “Dumplings, chicken, and vegetables on skewers and prawns and scallops on skewers. Sounds good to me.”

The server came with the wine, and we ordered our meal. Celeste took a sip of wine. “This is very nice,” she said.
“The wine, but also being able to talk with somebody I feel I can trust. Joanne, I’ve done something.”

I raised my hand in a Halt sign. “Celeste, is this something you should be talking to Zack about?”

“Not yet,” she said. “If it comes to that, I will talk to him, but right now I just need to get the words out. I’m scared – for my father but also for me. I can’t lose him again, Joanne. I know why he started drinking the night of the art auction. He says he’s sober now, and I believe him, but it wouldn’t take much to push him over the edge. If he starts drinking again, he could lose everything – his medical licence, his reputation, his career – everything he’s worked so hard for.”

“Zack’s concerned about that, too,” I said.

“Concern isn’t enough,” Celeste said. “My father needs to get Lauren out of his life.”

Vince’s angry account of his wife’s passion for her young lover was still sharp in my mind. “Lauren may decide to leave on her own,” I said.

“Not until she gets what she wants,” Celeste said grimly.

“You seem very certain about Lauren’s plans,” I said. “Has she confided in you?”

Celeste whooped. “My God, Joanne. You must live in a parallel universe. Lauren and I do not
confide
in each other. We barely speak. My information comes from Julian.”

“Julian?” I said. “I
am
living in a parallel universe. Lauren mentioned once that you’d introduced her to Julian. I assumed it was just one of those casual social things.”

Celeste’s lips curled with amusement. “Nothing about Lauren and me is ‘casual,’ ” she said. “Julian and I work together at Diego’s. Lauren was in for dinner one night with friends. I was her server. She spotted Julian serving at another table and she asked me to introduce her. Lauren said she wanted to meet some of my friends, and idiot that I am, I was flattered, so I called Julian over and introduced
them.” Celeste stared out the window at the mural painted on the side of the supermarket across the street. “As they say, the rest is history.”

“Julian and Lauren became lovers that night?”

“Diego’s has the perfect setup for assignations,” Celeste said. “The restaurant is in a boutique hotel – nothing simpler for a patron to do than reserve a room while she’s paying her bill.”

“How long ago was this?”

Celeste’s fingers thrummed the table and she gazed around the restaurant. “I don’t know. Maybe a month ago.”

“You never told your father?”

“No. My father knows how I feel about Lauren. I didn’t want him to think I was being vindictive or – worse – that I was lying.”

“So you let him believe everything was fine.”

Celeste drained her glass. “No, I did something that ensured my father would
know
that Lauren was being unfaithful to him.”

The penny dropped. “You sent him that text,” I said.

Celeste’s nod was almost imperceptible. “It was a terrible thing to do. I know that now, but I didn’t set out to make trouble. My father had called to tell me he was going to be away for the weekend. He and Lauren have a dog walker, but she doesn’t come on the weekends, so I volunteered to walk the salukis. When I got to the house, I saw Julian’s jacket in the hall, and I went upstairs to investigate. I heard Lauren and Julian making love. They were having sex in the bed Lauren shared with my father, and I lost it. I went downstairs, and when I saw Lauren’s iPhone in the living room, I fired off a text telling my father to come home. Then I took the salukis for a walk.

“I stayed out with them for more than an hour. When I came back, my father was leaving the house. His face told
me everything. He said, ‘Don’t go in there,’ and then he took the dogs from me, led them into the house, unhooked their leashes, came back outside, and walked towards his car. He didn’t say another word. It was as if I didn’t exist.”

Celeste’s desolation was heartbreaking. I reached across the table and touched her hand. “I’m so sorry,” I said.

Celeste’s laugh was bitter. “Not half as sorry as I am. I’ve made so many mistakes.”

“When we see people we love being hurt, we get desperate,” I said.

“I
was
desperate,” Celeste said. “But I think I’ve found a way to make amends. Last night when I went to work, I told Julian that I knew that he and Lauren were having an affair. I thought he’d shut me out, but he was more than eager to talk. He said his relationship with Lauren was out of control. He had never intended their affair to be anything more than ‘a mutually satisfactory arrangement.’ ”

“Meaning?”

“Julian gave Lauren sex, and she gave him money, but now Lauren wants more. She wants to live with Julian openly, and she believes that my father’s assault on her makes that possible.”

“Because Lauren can demand the moon, and if Vince doesn’t meet her demand, she’ll go to the police,” I said, still struggling with the idea that Julian had sold himself to Lauren. “So where does the possibility for you to make amends come in?”

“Julian thinks that if my father understands the game Lauren is playing, he will call her bluff, and Julian will be able to slip out of Lauren’s life.”

“That’s a high-stakes move,” I said. “Lauren might go to the police anyway.”

“Julian says that, given the fact that Lauren has a history of affairs with much younger men, she won’t risk it.”