Tumbled Graves (14 page)

“I need to get this story finished by tonight to make the deadline. You're going to have to entertain yourself today I'm afraid, buckaroo.”

He'd done his best to keep out of her way. She hadn't had much work lately and wouldn't let him buy anything good at the store. That was because they didn't have any extra money. He knew that because he heard her telling her sister how worried she was on the phone the night before when she thought he was sleeping. The little bees of worry had been humming in his stomach ever since.

So he tried his best to be good. He'd built a fort out of couch cushions and a blanket she'd given him and hid inside with his Lego for most of the morning. After lunch, he watched two movies and then played with his toy cars in the front hallway. She'd stopped working long enough to make him a hotdog but had taken hers back to the computer.

Sammy got up on the sofa and craned his head back to look up at the sky. It was still blue and he could see the sun high up. He turned and looked at his mom. She had an unlit cigarette in her mouth and was twirling her hair around and around with her fingers. She always did that when she was thinking.

He jumped down and slipped past her. At the doorway to the kitchen he stopped and looked back. He thought about telling her that he was going outside to ride his bike, but she'd begun typing again. He shrugged. His black rubber boots were on the mat by the back door. He sat down and pulled them on and then unlocked the back door. He stepped outside and shut the door so that it didn't slam.

His bike was right where he'd left it next to the back shed. He picked up a stick and poked it in the holes under the steps for a while. He knew a raccoon was living under there. Or maybe it was an otter. He wasn't sure, but he knew it was something big. He'd like to get it out and make it his pet. He lost interest after a while and looked over at his red
tricycle.
He was almost too big for the bike, but he still liked riding it up and down the driveway as fast as he could go. His mom said she was going to get him a two-wheeler as soon as she got some money ahead. Maybe he'd get it after she got paid for this job she was working on.

It took him a few minutes to lug the bike across the lawn and around the house to the top of the driveway. One of the pedals hit his leg and made a scratch. He rubbed it for a second but then forgot about the sting when he got on his bike and started down the little hill, being careful not to scrape his mother's car. She'd said the car had to last another winter at least even if the driver door didn't lock anymore and rust had made little holes along the sides.

He pedalled hard and liked the feel of the wind in his face. “Yippee!” he screamed and kept pedalling as hard as he could until he reached the trees on his right. That was when he had to brake so that he wouldn't keep going onto the road. He slowed and drove his bike in a wide arc back toward the house. His feet started moving in slower and slower circles. The pedals slowed until the bike came to a stop. He stared across the driveway into the trees.

A man was standing in the shadows watching him.

Sammy remembered his friend Violet and the worry bees started buzzing louder in his tummy. He got his feet back on the pedals ready to pump his legs as hard as he could, to get back up the hill to his mommy. The man took a step toward him. He was smiling and called out his name.

“Sammy, I want to talk to you.”

Sammy hesitated. Only friends knew his name was Sammy. The man was saying something and he listened. He wasn't sure if he should go over to the man like he asked. Sammy looked back toward the house. The front door had been flung open and his mother was standing on the front steps. She had one hand over her forehead and she was looking down the driveway.

“Sammy, you get back here right now!” she called.

“Coming, Ma!” he yelled back, relieved not to have to make a decision. He looked over to where the man was standing, but the space was empty. The man had disappeared back into the trees. Sammy squinted into the shadows but couldn't see any sign of him.

He slowly started to push his feet against the pedals to build up speed to make the hill and get back to where his mom stood, waiting with her hands on her hips. When he was closer, he could see the unhappy look on her face. Something told him not to mention the man standing in the trees. Her face was red enough already. By the time he reached her, his legs were tired and he was panting. She grabbed onto his arm and gave him a shake.

“You never go outside without telling me again, do you hear me, young man? I was worried sick when I realized you weren't in the house. Now get inside and into your pajamas. You are going straight to bed.”

He didn't think about the man again until his mom had tucked him into bed and gone downstairs to finish writing her story. Only then did he wonder about what the man had told him.

Sammy closed his eyes and tried to see the man's face. He'd been wearing a black ball cap and a black jacket and all Sammy could remember was his smile. A wisp of a memory tickled in his head. He'd seen the man somewhere before. But where?

Maybe the man knew what happened to Violet and had come to take Sammy to see her. That might be how the man knew his name. He must be a friend. Sammy rolled onto his side and closed his eyes. Maybe the man in black would be back tomorrow. He might even take Sammy to find Violet because it was getting
really
boring waiting for her to come home.

T
he
next morning, Kala drove into work early, stopping at the Tim Hortons drive-through to pick up a bagel and large coffee. She took a second to enjoy the sun rising over the strip mall — looked like another nice day was shaping up, and she was sorry to be spending it indoors. She carried on to the station and ate at her desk while she checked her email. The most urgent answered, she printed the list of adoption agencies that she'd saved in a file the day before. As soon as the clock struck nine, she began calling.

Her limited French seemed enough to get by, especially since most of the people who answered the phone switched to English as soon as she began speaking French. By twelve o'clock, she'd gone through the entire list of agencies without learning anything of use. Nobody had placed a baby with Adele Dufour in the time period provided. She doodled on a notepad while considering next steps. Woodhouse would tell her to bark up another tree. She looked across at Gundersund who was talking on the phone. They were alone in the office. Bennett and Woodhouse were spending the day at Ivo Delaney's bank, interviewing his coworkers.

She stood up and stretched and started toward Rouleau's office. The door was open but he wasn't inside. Gundersund called to her.

“Vera came and got Rouleau an hour ago. He and Heath went back downtown for another news conference.”

She turned. He'd hung up the phone and was leaning back in his chair watching her. “I was hoping to speak with him.” She walked back to her desk and sat down. “What're you working on?”

“Tracking down Delaney's mother. I just spoke to her.”

“And?”

“If I had to guess, I'd say she's one bible-
thumping
, God-fearing woman. She talked a lot about sin and judgment day.”

“Man. Just what Ivo Delaney must have needed growing up after his sister drowned.”

“She said that her husband never forgave Ivo, although she did after years of going to church. Still, her husband cut off contact with Ivo and she feels that she has to respect his wishes even in death.”

“See, I don't get that. People who play the forgiveness card but don't act on it. Where I come from, we call that hypocrisy.”

Gundersund grinned. “Where I come from too. Say, you want to get some lunch? I can fill you in on what Mrs. Delaney said about Ivo over a sandwich.”

“When's Rouleau due back?”

“He figured by one-thirty if all goes well.”

“We could text him to meet us at the Merchant.”

“I like how you think, Stonechild. I'll send him a text now and we can be on our way.”

They snagged what had become their regular table in the smaller room to the right of the entrance. Gundersund checked his messages and Kala read the menu. Gundersund talked while reading. “Rouleau has to head back to the station. He says he'll meet us there later.”

“Did he say how the press conference went?”

“Not really. He didn't have much to report so I imagine not that great.”

The waitress came over and they ordered drinks and cheeseburger platters. When she left Kala asked, “So what did Mrs. Delaney have to tell you about Ivo?”

“She said that he was a loner, never any friends to speak of. From what she said I gathered that their daughter Olive was the shining star. She was popular and pretty and did well in school. The Delaneys pinned all their hopes and dreams on her. Olive and Ivo were close until she began high school and started hanging around with a new group of friends. Mrs. Delaney said that Ivo was jealous. She calls him Egor, by the way. The name she gave him at birth. She said that the day of the drowning, Olive was planning to leave the lake and go to an overnight party with some girlfriends. Ivo sulked about it all morning but seemed to rally toward lunchtime. He talked her into going for the boat ride around the bay later in the afternoon. They had no proof that it wasn't an accident as Ivo said, but Mrs. Delaney and her husband always believed that he'd done something that caused her death. She suggested that he'd left Olive in the middle of the lake and took the boat back to shore where he waited until she was gone. Olive wasn't a strong swimmer.”

“If Ivo didn't admit to anything all those years ago, I don't think we'll get him talking now.”

“No. I wonder if Adele was planning on leaving him. If she was, that could have triggered the same reaction as when he felt that Olive was ditching him for her new friends.”

“Didn't Adele's sister say that Adele wanted to visit with Violet the weekend before they went missing?”

“That's right. Adele was disappointed that she had to wait another week because Leanne was busy.”

Kala tried to piece it together. “So Adele was not close to Leanne, but all of a sudden she couldn't wait to visit her. A week later, Adele and Violet are dead. Tell me that's just a coincidence.”

Gundersund didn't respond while the waitress set down their drinks and plates of food. “Ketchup?” he offered Kala before loading up his French fries. He took a bite of his burger. “So, maybe Adele Delaney was trying to take a vacation from Ivo.”

“Or maybe she was going to use her sister's place as a launching pad to get away from Ivo permanently.” Kala picked up her burger. “This smells good. I didn't realize how hungry I am.”

“Don't let it get cold.”

They dug into their food, putting the case on hold by silent agreement. Gundersund finished eating before she did. He took a swallow of beer before asking, “How'd your interview go with Dawn's teacher?”

“Good.” She dropped the French fry she'd been holding back onto her plate and pushed it away. She could feel his gaze upon her. She raised her head and looked across at him. “Okay, not good. Dawn isn't fitting in and some girl said that Dawn stole her iPhone.”

“You're kidding.”

“I wish I was. When I tried to talk to her about it last evening, she brushed me off. She said she didn't steal it and she wasn't apologizing.”

“What did you say?”

“That I'd back her up. I know she's not a thief.”

Gundersund looked thoughtful. After a few moments, he shook his head. “No way she took an iPhone. Half the time she doesn't remember to charge her own phone and told me that she's not a big fan. Besides that, she's a good kid.”

Kala leaned forward. “So what do I do, Gundersund? I have no experience with this shit.”

“It was another girl who accused her?”

“Yeah, backed up by some girlfriends.”

“Could be this girl is trying to control the group. Maybe she feels threatened. Let me talk to Dawn and see if I can get anything more out of her.”

“I'd appreciate that. Why can't life ever be easy?”

“I wish I knew. The important thing is that she knows you believe in her.”

“I one hundred percent back her up, but I can't help worrying that with all she's been through with her parents … well let's just say that they weren't the best role models. I have the tiniest, niggling doubt in the worried part of my brain that she did steal the phone and it's a cry for help. I've called her shrink for a one-on-one. Just waiting for a call back.”

“It's good not to be blind where kids are concerned. I think you're going about this the right way, if my opinion counts for anything.”

“Did you have a normal family growing up?”

“I did. Two parents, a brother, and dog.”

She felt her face burn remembering that he'd told Dawn his brother had died in a car crash. She tried to keep her voice light. “Well, I might need you to tell me what normal is now and then.” She smiled and pretended not to see the sadness that came and went in his eyes.

“No family's perfect, Stonechild, but I should be able to draw on my parents' example. They're good people and solid. I might take you to meet them some day.”

“I think I'd like that.”

R
ouleau
arrived back at the station with Heath after the press conference. Heath was in a jovial mood. He'd liked the questions from the media, which had been benign at best. Marci Stokes had been conspicuous by her absence.

“Still some national media attention kicking around.” He ran a hand through his greying curls. “We should be able to hold their attention a few more days until the arrest. I hope my promise to them that we're close to charging someone won't be misplaced.”

“The team is being thorough. It's prudent to wait until we've gathered as much evidence as possible before we charge Delaney. So far, most is circumstantial. Forensics came up empty, as you know.”

They stopped walking at Vera's desk. She smiled at Rouleau. Her long blond hair was clipped back with blue sparkly combs in the shape of butterflies. Her amber eyes regarded them both as she handed a folder to Heath. “Your wife called half an hour ago. She wonders if you'll be home for dinner.”

Heath's smile faded. “Thanks. I'll give her a call.” He took the folder. “Let me know when you're ready to make that arrest,” he said to Rouleau and headed into his office, shutting the door behind him.

Vera shook her head. “He's got to make a decision,” was all she said.

Rouleau chose not to respond since Heath's affair with Laney Masterson was none of his business. The fact that Laney was Vera's cousin gave her a stake in the outcome and maybe the right to an opinion. “See you later, Vera. I'll be in my office if needed.”

He spent the afternoon reviewing the forensics and reports on the Delaney file. Nothing new popped out at him except the feeling that Ivo Delaney was looking more and more guilty. He also confirmed to himself that they didn't have enough evidence to charge him. He pondered a strategy for getting Delaney to confess. Gundersund had said that Delaney seemed to connect with Kala Stonechild. Perhaps this could be exploited. His door was open and he looked into the outer office. Gundersund and Stonechild were busy at their desks. Woodhouse and Bennett had come and gone. He looked at his watch. Going on five and time to call it a day. As he watched, Gundersund grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. Stonechild stood and put on her jacket too but instead of heading for the door, she crossed the floor to his office.

“Do you have a minute, sir?”

“Of course. Come and take a seat.”

“This won't take long.” She settled herself in the chair across from him. “I just got a call from a possible source in Montreal. She's a waitress at Chez Louis. I think it's one of the older ones who was watching me quite closely when we were there. Anyhow, she didn't want to give her name or talk on the phone. Her English and my French aren't great. I convinced her to meet me in Ottawa tomorrow around ten and was hoping you could go with me, you know, to help with the translation.”

“Seems like a long way to go for dubious information.”

“I know, but she said that she had something we might find of interest.”

Rouleau thought it over. He knew from past cases that Stonechild had good instincts. He also knew that she'd go her own way if she believed she was onto something no matter what he said. Gundersund had to hang around for a court call back. Bennett's French was weak, and Woodhouse … well, Woodhouse would balk at a trip to Ottawa and make Stonechild's life miserable.

“I guess we could take a run in the morning. Where are you meeting her?”

“She's driving so we agreed to meet in the east end at St. Laurent shopping centre at the A&W in the food court. She said that she may as well make it a shopping trip while she's there. I could pick you up around seven thirty.”

“Okay. I'll meet you out front of my building at seven thirty.”

“Thank you, sir.”

He watched her leave while he thought about a trip to Ottawa. He could use the time to strategize with her about how to approach Ivo Delaney with the objective of getting him to confide in her. Besides being a chance to brainstorm with Stonechild and plan next steps, a short road trip would get him out of the office for a few hours and feel part of a spring day. It seemed like a win-win.

Dawn was sitting outside on the bottom step of the deck in her backyard when Gundersund rounded the corner. She held a ball in her hand that she threw across the expanse of lawn. Minny and Taiku chased each other across the yard and Taiku let Minny get to it first. As they bounded back toward Dawn, Taiku spotted Gundersund and both dogs changed course to greet him. He gave them each a good rub on their sides with both hands before joining Dawn on the step.

“Hey,” he said, sitting down.

“Hey,” she replied. She took the ball from Minny's mouth and the dogs cavorted around the lawn in front of her waiting for another throw.

He tried to read her mood but could not. Her hair hung in two long braids but her bangs were long enough to hide her eyes as she hunched over and bounced the ball on the flagstone under her feet.

“Kala said to tell you that she's not far behind me. She had to talk to Rouleau for a few minutes.”

“Okay.”

“How was school today?”

She turned and looked sideways at him. “Have you been talking to Kala?”

He held up a hand. “Guilty as charged. She's worried about you.”

“I can handle it.”

“But the question is, handle what?”

“Handle the girls in my class.” She heaved the ball across the lawn and the dogs galloped after it.

“Is there anything Kala or I can do to help?”

“No.”

Gundersund tried to think of a new approach but he was coming up empty. “We're here, you know. You don't have to go through this alone.”

“I know.”

“You're getting good at the short answers.” He smiled at her. “If you need to talk and figure out how to handle these girls, I'm here for you.”

“Good to know.” She smiled back at him. “Really, everything is okay.”

“So you say.”

They watched the dogs racing toward them. Taiku had the ball this time and dropped it at Dawn's feet. She picked it up and bounced it on the flagstone while the dogs waited. This time she stood and threw it toward the end of the property.

“You have a good arm.”

She looked down at him. “I play baseball at school during recess.” She looked ready to say something else but stopped. She looked toward the side of the house. “I hear Kala's truck.”

He looked in the same direction. The sound of an engine and tires on the pavement abruptly stopped. “Well, I'm going to take Minny and head home. Thanks again for taking care of her after school.”

“I like doing it.”

He waited until Stonechild walked around the corner and had her moment being greeted by the dogs. She kept walking toward them and looked at Gundersund with a question in her eyes. He shook his head ever so slightly. They'd agreed that he'd come ahead to see if Dawn would open up to him.

“Stay for supper, Gundersund?” she asked without giving anything away.

“No, I have to head home, but thanks.”

“Another time. Rouleau and I are heading to Ottawa first thing to interview a waitress from Chez Louis, so I won't be in the station until one or so.”

“I've been called back to court so might not see you at all tomorrow.” He whistled for Minny and started toward the side of the house. He would have liked to stay but Fiona was coming by on his request. He wanted to start the paperwork to make their separation official and knew it wasn't going to be an easy discussion. But it was a discussion they needed to have.

She was late … again.

Piss me off,
Woodhouse thought. He checked his phone again for messages before signalling to the barmaid for another rum and Coke. For the third time, he swivelled his head to look around the Holiday Inn bar. Nobody he knew had entered since his last check, for which he gave thanks. He reminded himself that he'd picked this meeting place precisely because nobody from work ever came here.

Did she think he had all night to hang around waiting for her to show?

Seconds after his drink arrived, she walked in the door looking as unkempt as usual. Her copper hair was half in and half out of a ponytail and her blue cotton shirt looked as wrinkled as the linen blazer that topped it. She dropped her oversized straw bag onto a vacant chair and sat down in the one opposite him.

“Sorry I'm late.” Her breath came out in a rush. “I was interviewing someone and couldn't find a way to end it.”

“No problem. It's not like I haven't put in a long enough day already.”

The waitress appeared with a glass of clear liquid with lemon wedged onto the top and set it in front of Marci Stokes, who looked steadily at Woodhouse until the waitress left.

“I took the liberty,” he said. “It's not like you've ever ordered anything but vodka soda.”

“Am I that easy to predict?” She picked up the glass and tipped it in his direction. “Cheers.”

“Yeah, cheers.” He didn't bother to drink.

She settled in like a little bird worming into a nest. Well, maybe a big bird. She wasn't exactly a fragile-looking woman. He leaned back in his chair and looked up at the television over the bar. They had it locked on the golf channel. He wasn't a big fan of golf. Too slow and boring. Old men walking around a big lawn hitting a ball at a flag. What was the excitement in that?

Marci rattled the ice cubes in her glass and set it down. “So why have you brought me here when I could be back in my hotel catching up on my sleep?”

“I was hoping you had something for me tonight.”

“Nope. My day has been uninformative at best.”

“I hear through the grapevine that you missed Heath's press conference. Where were you?”

“Do you seriously think I'm going to account for my whereabouts to you, Officer Woodhouse?”

She'd put enough emphasis on his name so that he couldn't miss the disrespect. Woodhouse smiled. He liked sparring with her since he knew that he held the trump cards. His old partner Ed Chalmers had taught him well. He'd been the master at manipulating the media. “Feed them enough so that they think you're onside, all the while you're getting information out of them. That's how you get ahead in this world,” Chalmers liked to say. Well, he'd fed Stokes enough about the case to keep her onside and now it was time to use her. He slid a folded paper across the table. “Have a look at that,” he said.

She picked it up with one hand and flipped it open. He watched her eyes skim across the article before moving back up the page to stare at the photo. “Is this who I think it is?”

“Yeah. Kala Stonechild. Not a very pretty sight, is she?”

Marci cocked her head to one side and looked at him. “Let me get this straight. One of your own was a homeless drunk before she joined the force. I say before because of the date on this article and how young she looks. Why are you sharing this with me?”

“Oh, I think you know. Someone like Stonechild isn't good for policing. For one, she could be blackmailed by people she consorted with in the past. Who knows what criminal activities she got up to in those years? She showed a lack of character and judgment. You don't ever outgrow those traits. The public has a right to be informed who's taking care of their law and order.”

“Does Rouleau know about this?”

“My guess is no. I happened to have a look at Stonechild's resume and she didn't have anything on it about this period of her life. She never talks about herself. Now I know why.”

“I thought resumes were protected.”

“They are. But where there's a will …”

Marci swallowed the last of her drink and picked up her bag. She tucked the article into it. “Okay. Let me sit on this for a bit. I have to work an angle. I'm guessing you don't want anybody to know where this came from.”

“Not if we're going to keep doing business.”

“Yeah, understood. Well, thanks for the drink. I'll be in touch.”

“And next time, maybe I'll have something bigger for you about the Delaney case.”

She saluted him with her fingertips. “I'll be waiting.”

After she left, he called the waitress over and got her to change the channel to wrestling. He asked for a menu and ordered another rum and Coke. He might as well settle in for a while since he had nowhere to be and no food in the fridge. Call this a little celebration for himself for getting Stonechild removed from the force in the not too distant future. He deserved a steak dinner for all his dogged legwork tracking down her past. Rouleau would never know how Stonechild's misspent youth came to light, but he'd be happy to have her gone once he found out how she'd hidden the worst of her past from him — of this, Woodhouse was certain.

Catherine Lockhart sighed as she asked Sammy for the fourth time to get into bed. He'd been bouncing off the walls all day, ever since she'd punished him for going outside without her permission the evening before. Punishment had amounted to no television for the afternoon. In hindsight, the punishment hurt her more than it did him. Normally, he watched two half hour shows while she made supper. Tonight he raced around the living room like a cat on crack.

“Sammy, don't make me ask you one more time,” she said to her son, who was sprawled out on the floor playing with a Lego car. “Get into your bed … NOW.”

“Alright. Alright. You don't have to yell!”

He got up slowly and spun around a few times before finally climbing into bed, but he didn't lay down. He got onto his feet and jumped up and down all the while grinning like a monkey. She reached up her hands and caught him around the waist until he stopped bouncing. He dropped to his knees and she pushed him into a prone position and pulled the covers up over him snugly. She lowered herself into a sitting position on the edge of the bed.