Beautiful Lie the Dead (40 page)

“But I think it's a formality. I look at you and I love you, but in my gut I know the truth. Holed up in this place, I had a chance to look over the proof she gave me—the newspapers that had no announcement of my birth, the birth registrations for November 1978 that had no record of me. And I've been doing some research on the web about family members raised apart. There is a powerful attraction based on similarities in temperament, values, interests, even habits and tastes. It's as if our DNA bonds us even if we're unaware. I thought about how we laugh at the same jokes, share the same dreams and even finish each others' sentences.”

Brandon was watching her, anguish and resignation reflected in his eyes. Yet he didn't argue with her. “If you aren't raised together, a powerful, physical attraction is normal. Oedipus and Electra weren't far off the mark. We can't be together, but I don't feel guilty that I love you. I wish...” Her eyes brimmed with sudden tears. “I wish things were different, but at least in all this, I haven't lost everything. I have a very cool, very kindred brother.”

* * *

“Talk about bizarre,” Sharon exclaimed. “To discover that the man of your dreams is your brother. To think you slept with him and planned a life with him. I can't imagine feeling that way about Jake! I don't think we're the least bit alike.”

She and Green were sprawled out side by side on the sofa, sharing a late night bottle of wine. For the first time in days, Green felt peaceful. Every muscle in his body ached and he knew he would pay for his snowshoeing expedition the next day, but for now the universe was the best it could be, considering a woman had died and Jules was still missing.

Reg was in custody but his confession, and the end to all the secrets, seemed to have buoyed his spirits. He knew he'd have to do time but some of his more dubious bar patrons had already slipped him the name of a good defence lawyer who could wring a tear from the most jaded judge.

After consultation with the Crown, Green had elected not to charge Meredith in connection with Lise's death. She and Brandon were last seen heading out for a showdown in Rockcliffe, no longer hand in hand but united in purpose. Elena Longstreet had a lot to answer for.

It was six o'clock by the time Green escaped the station. He had just put the finishing touches on his report to Barbara Devine when he heard a great cheer outside his door. He peered out in time to see Brian Sullivan walk into the squad room with a silly red Santa tuque on his head, a sack of gifts in his hand, and a broad grin on his freckled face. He strode from desk to desk as if he owned the place, handing out gifts and accepting bear hugs. When he reached Bob Gibbs's desk, he pulled out a box wrapped with silver bells.

“I heard some fool is brave enough to take on our Sue.”

Gibbs flushed purple. “H-how..? Who...?”

“I know everything that's going on around here, and don't any of you young lads forget it.”

Green had brought his own blue-wrapped Hanukkah gift home. A bottle of vintage Merlot. Does he think I earned it, or need it, he wondered as he closed his eyes and took another sip. He thought about Sharon's last words, about blood ties and love and that sense of connection that defied all geography.

“You and Jake were raised together,” he said. “Your relationship was molded by the rough and tumble of childhood, the sibling jealousies and competition, and the intimacy of shared experience. There's no magic of discovery, no sense of a mysterious destiny at work. But I feel it with Hannah all the time.”

“But at least you knew what your relationship was. Brandon and Meredith were lovers. How are they going to get past that?”

“Time and distance for starters,” he said. “He's going on to Ethiopia as planned, she's going back to Haiti. And she's taken on the name Amélie. Part of redefining herself, distancing herself from the Meredith who'd planned a life with him.”

“It's not going to be as easy as that,” Sharon said. “She can't erase who she's been for thirty years. She can't erase the Kennedys.”

“I don't think she wants to. She says the name change is unofficial, at least for now, while she gets her head around this new identity. After reading the letter that her mother wrote to her, it just felt right. The little girl who was Amélie should never have been lost.”

“Uncanny, the power of that mother-child bond.” She snuggled up beside him. “Makes me wish...”

He looked into her eyes. Deep, luminous, and full of hope. He looked at the fire she had lit, and the dog asleep at her feet. It was on the tip of his tongue to answer her when the doorbell rang.

Sharon held his arm. “Don't answer that. It's ten o'clock!”

No sooner had he settled back down when it rang again. Two soft, short rings. He hauled himself to his feet.

Standing on the doorstep, his tall, stooped frame bathed in yellow porch light, was Adam Jules. With a rush of joy, Green yanked the door wide.

“Michael, sorry to disturb you at this hour, but a phone call would be insufficient. I wanted to explain, before tomorrow's news came out.”

Green invited him in and offered him a glass of wine, which he politely declined. He perched on the edge of Green's old lazyboy and crossed his hands in his lap. He was controlled and still, but Green could see the haggard circles beneath his eyes. The week had aged him.

Sensing the pain in Jules's stillness, Sharon excused herself and withdrew. Jules pursed his lips. “I have just been to see the deputy chief. I handed in my resignation.”

Green stifled his dismay.

“It seemed the wisest choice, given the circumstances, which you know.”

“I know some, Adam. Not all.”

“There's no need to know more. You have the facts you need. Lise Gravelle is dead, Meredith Kennedy knows the truth, Reg Kennedy is in custody. A tragic, tragic story, Michael. No need to compound the tragedy.”

Green exploded. “I spent a week searching for you, worrying about you, wondering if you were impeding my investigation. Wondering if the man who taught me ethics had himself been as dirty as they come. Afraid in the end that you might have taken your own life! I think I deserve more than a fucking ‘no need to know more'!” He broke off, shocked. In all the years he'd lost his temper with Jules over the frustrations and restrictions of the job, he had never sworn at him. Never made it personal. Jules didn't flinch, but a tightness around his eyes betrayed him.

“I'm sorry I caused you distress, Michael.”

“Did you accept a payoff from Cyril Longstreet?” Jules didn't answer right away. He steepled his fingers and pressed the tips to his lips while he considered. “Perhaps I'll have some wine after all.”

Green remembered the array of fine brandies and whiskies in Jules's apartment. “How about a Scotch instead. It's Glenlivet.”

Jules arched an eyebrow. “Neat, please.” He swirled the amber liquid around and took an appreciative sip before resuming as if there had been no interruption. “Not a payoff, no. But I made a deal. Not one I regret. One that spared several innocent lives, including two babies, from humiliation and possible destitution.” A faint smile played across his weary face. “That much you will learn when tomorrow's edition of the
Montreal Gazette
hits the stands. That clever reporter tracked me down in St. Hyacinth, where I admit I thought I had reached the end of the road. He said he had a deal with you to expose the old cover-up.”

“He was stretching the truth a bit.”

Jules savoured another sip. “I had no doubt. I remember him well. But secrecy had gotten us all to this appalling juncture— Lise dead, Meredith missing, Brandon betrayed, Reg and Norah Kennedy sucked into the maelstrom. While the two people who'd orchestrated the cover-up and profited the most from it—Elena and Cyril Longstreet, who got to keep their dignity and family honour—were still unscathed by it all.”

“So you told Cam Hatfield what? That Lise had been at Harvey Longstreet's apartment when he died, and that you'd helped cover it up?”

“Not directly. Lise was at the apartment. They were in bed when they...miscalculated. She called Elena in a panic to ask what to do. Rather than telling her to phone the police, Elena told her to get out of the apartment and never say a word. Then she phoned Cyril and together they unhooked Harvey from the bedpost, hung him in the closet, cleaned the whole place up, and locked the door on their way out. Then they left him for two days before Elena phoned in a missing persons report.”

Green shuddered. What ice ran in the woman's veins?

Jules's mouth twitched in disgust. “I knew someone had tampered with the apartment, but I hadn't proceeded very far in my investigation before Lise contacted me with the truth. She recognized my name from home, St. Hyacinth, and she hoped I would tell her what to do. She was pregnant but when she'd phoned Elena to ask for her help, Elena denied all knowledge of her and insisted it was all a lie to extort money. Lise was a babe among wolves. She was convinced Harvey Longstreet loved her, but Elena laughed in her face. I could have pursued the case and charged Elena and Cyril with some offence, but that wouldn't have benefited Lise.”

It was the longest speech Green had ever heard Jules make. The most passion he had ever displayed. In the silence, he looked spent.

“So you made a deal with the devil.”

He nodded. “To get her some child support. But in the end, it wasn't enough. Lise never recovered from the trauma of Harvey dying in her arms. And poor little Amélie...”

“Did you keep in touch with either of them after the adoption?”

“No. In Amélie's case, it was not allowed, of course, and Lise blamed me for pressuring her into giving Amélie up. I'd thought it was best for all, but... We don't cut those ties so easily, do we. So I left Montreal and joined up here. I thought about her often, but I knew her recovery was too fragile.” He took a deep breath as if to say more but stopped himself, tightened his lips and sipped his Scotch.

“So what happened? How did you get involved in this present case? You said it was your fault.”

“I got a call. Voice message, at the station. From Lise.”

“When?”

Jules squinted. “About three weeks ago. In her message, she asked two things. Was I the Adam Jules from the Montreal Police, and was Meredith Kennedy her daughter?”

“What did you tell her?”

“I didn't call her back right away, because I wasn't sure.

I'd helped the Kennedys connect with Father Fréchette, but the actual adoption details were kept secret. There were many babies. So I started checking. Father Fréchette was dead, as was the lawyer, and the old mission was torn down. The church records had been travelling around in church vaults for years. I was able to confirm that Reginald and Norah Kennedy had indeed adopted a girl in the right time frame. I called Lise back a week later. I told her the adoption records were lost, but it was possible. My worst mistake. My absolute worst mistake.” He sipped on his Scotch with a trembling hand. “Before I knew it, Elena Longstreet phoned me.”

Green leaned in, holding his breath. “This was...?”

“Last Tuesday morning. The day after Lise's death. Elena was upset with me. She said some woman claiming to be Lise Gravelle had phoned her the night before to tell her she was on her way to the house with important information about Harvey's daughter. Elena thought there was a threat in her words. A hint of blackmail.”

“Was that likely?”

Jules shrugged. “Not the Lise I knew. Stopping the marriage and getting Amélie back, that's all Lise would want. But in her line of work, Elena has been a fighter for so long that she sees adversaries and dishonourable motives where there are none. She even thought I'd put Lise up to it and told her where Elena lived.”

“Had you stayed in touch with Elena?”

Jules grimaced. “As little as possible. Our paths crossed from time to time at charitable or legal functions. I admire her skill, and she claims to feel bad about her treatment of Lise. That's possible. She was young, and the shock must have been considerable. But she was suspicious when Lise renewed contact out of the blue, and when Lise failed to show up, she wondered whether I knew anything.”

Which is when you asked me about missing persons and accidents, Green thought. So Elena had been lying. What a surprise. She had known Lise Gravelle was coming to her home that night, and possibly had some idea why. He felt a hard knot of anger for the woman.

Jules had drained his glass and gave no hint of protest when Green topped it up. He heaved a deep sigh. “Once I learned Lise was dead, I did wonder whether Elena might have had a hand in it. But she is a woman of some stature and integrity in her own right, and to risk it over old news seemed unlike her.”

“Not if that news might cost her the love of her only son,” Green said.

Jules didn't seem to hear. His own thoughts swept him on. “My worst mistake… When she disappeared, I thought Meredith herself had done it. Cyril Longstreet told me she was beside herself with shock and anger when she visited him in Montreal.” He cast Green a silent glance, as if acknowledging it was indeed his car that Green had encountered up on Summit Circle that day. “Poor, innocent Amélie. What we put that young woman through—the shock, the loss of her dreams—it was my fault. I had set it in motion, thirty years ago and once again three weeks ago. How could I betray her now? How could I turn her in?”

Jules's eyelids were drooping now, betraying the exhaustion the week had wrought. “Instead,” he said, draining his second glass, “it was that poor bugger Reg Kennedy who got caught in the trap.” He set his glass down abruptly and hauled himself to his feet, swaying slightly. “How did you get here, Adam?”

“Cab.”

“Let me drive you.”

Jules shook his head. “I'll walk a bit. Hail a cab on Carling. I've imposed enough.” He made his way to the hall, where he pulled on his coat and wrapped a brand new cashmere scarf around his neck. “The silver lining in this? I found Amélie again. In looks, she's like her mother, but her brains and her willpower, that's all her father. Ironically, both of them are like their father. On balance, that's a good thing.”