Dan Sharp Mysteries 4-Book Bundle (96 page)

Chapter Twenty

 T
his time Rouleau heard three voices when he stepped through the apartment door: his father, another man, and a woman. Oscar Peterson was spinning on his father’s prized turntable, soothing jazz to calm the troubled day. Puzzled, Rouleau inhaled the smell of garlic, onions, wine, and tomatoes and heard the sounds of banging pots coming from the kitchen. His confusion was short-lived. Gundersund met him at the end of the hallway with two glasses of red wine and a big grin. Rouleau accepted one and looked over Gundersund’s shoulder to see his father sitting on a chair in the kitchen and talking to Stonechild, who was stirring something on the stove. Her Lab Taiku lay at his father’s feet. Rouleau felt the tightness in his chest loosen.

“You giving cooking lessons, Dad?” he asked.

His father stopped whatever he was saying to Kala and they both looked in his direction. Taiku lifted his head and thumped his tail against the floor.

“It’s a dirty job,” his dad smiled, the same gentle smile Rouleau had known since childhood. It was the smile of a man at peace with the world
.

Rouleau felt some tension lift.
My father’s back to himself.

Kala waved a wooden spoon in the air and turned back to the stove. “You men take a seat,” she said. “Except for you, Gundersund. I’ll dish it up and you can deliver.”

“That’s about all I’m good for when it comes to the kitchen,” Gundersund said.

“Unlike Stonechild, who is demonstrating hidden talents,” Rouleau added. “Kala, you’re now officially my most valuable detective.”

“You won’t get any argument from me.” Gundersund set down his glass and took the tossed salad from the fridge. He grabbed a plate of rolls from the counter on his way past Rouleau to the dining room table.

Rouleau retrieved his father’s crutches for him and they made their way into the dining room. The table was set, complete with table cloth, crystal goblets, and centerpiece of fresh cut daisies. Rouleau whistled.

Gundersund set down plates of spaghetti. “Not only can Stonechild cook, she classed up the joint.” He picked up a pack of matches lying on the hutch and lit two yellow tapers in silver holders. “Can I give you a refill, Henri?” Gundersund asked.

“I wouldn’t say no.” Rouleau’s father held out his glass.

Rouleau watched Kala smile at his dad as she took her seat next to him. He lifted his glass to her and she bowed her head. Gundersund’s eyes were also on her, unreadable but clearly intrigued. Rouleau might have been worried if he thought Kala returned Gundersund’s interest, but he knew her well enough to doubt in the likelihood. Her black eyes met his. He saw uncertainty. It echoed in her voice when she said, “I phoned to speak with you but Henri said that you’d called that you’d be late. We thought a real home-cooked meal might be in order. I hope you don’t mind our intrusion.”

“On the contrary. You’ve kept my father company and relieved my mind. I had no idea what I was going to cook tonight.”

“This has been a marvellous surprise,” his father added. “The three of you are working too hard with this murder investigation and deserve a few hours to unwind and think of something else.”

Gundersund said, “To clarify, Stonechild was the brains behind this operation. I’m beginning to believe she can do anything she turns her hand to.”

“Not everything.” She picked up her fork.

Gundersund took a bite of the pasta and rich tomato sauce. “Is that ever good. Family recipe, Stonechild?”

Rouleau saw pain flash in her eyes before her face closed like a light shutting off. “No, not really,” she said.

Rouleau exchanged glances with Gundersund. He’d caught her reaction and was aware of his blunder. Silence descended on the table.

Rouleau’s father reached out a hand and touched Stonechild’s wrist. She looked across at him. Something unspoken passed between them and the tension in her face softened. She returned his smile.

Henri picked up his wine glass and raised it in her direction, then in Gundersund’s. “A toast to our guests and to a fine meal. An old man could not ask for better company.”

“I second that,” said Rouleau. “And for the duration of the meal, we’ll take a break from our work and enjoy Stonechild’s cooking.”

“Good by me,” Gundersund said, clearly relieved that the conversation had moved on.

Later, when Gundersund and Stonechild had gone, Rouleau sent his father to bed while he cleaned up the dishes. He filled the sink with soapy water to wash the good crystal, handed down through his father’s family. The pots took a bit of scrubbing. The rest of the dishes and cutlery went into the dish washer.

After he left the pots to air dry in the rack, he poured two fingers of Scotch and took it outside onto the balcony. He leaned against the railing and looked out over the lake, a band of darkness with a cone of silvery light across its surface where the moonlight reflected off the water. The cloud cover had blown out as quickly as it had arrived.

He’d managed to fill in Gundersund and Stonechild about his talk with Erin MacDonald and the curious interaction between Leah Sampson and Brian Munroe. They’d accepted the information with the same guarded logic as his own. Kingston was a small enough city that people’s paths crossed all the time. It might just be a coincidence that the two of them knew each other and died in violent ways within days of each other. On the other hand, their deaths could very well be related and needed to be checked out. The information gave the team renewed focus.

He sipped at the amber liquid. It burned the length of his throat, an old friend he rarely revisited. He’d let it worm its way into his nightly routine after his wife Frances left, but that had only lasted a short time. Whisky could drown a lot of pain, but it was not an answer in the long run.

His thoughts returned to Stonechild and Gundersund. She was a loner and a product of foster homes and frequent moves throughout her childhood. He could only guess at what lay behind the scars he’d glimpsed in her eyes in unguarded moments. Gundersund was separated, but Fiona was still in the picture from the stories he’d heard around the water cooler. Word was Gundersund would do anything to get her back.

“May I join you, son?”

Rouleau turned to see his father on his crutches beside the open sliding glass door. He jumped over to help him. “Of course, Dad. Can’t sleep?”

“Just needed a drink of water.” His father manoeuvred outside and leaned against the railing next to Rouleau. “Nice night.”

They stood side by side without feeling the need to speak. After a few minutes of silence, Henri said, “I think it’s time you found your own place, son. I’m managing well now and you don’t need my daily upkeep to add to your responsibilities.”

“I like being here for you.”

“I know, and I appreciate all you’ve done, but it’s time. I start back at the university on Monday. They’re loaning me a research assistant for a few months. Grad student. He’ll be able to do my heavy lifting. I intend to put in some late evenings.”

“You’re booting me out.”

“In a manner of speaking.”

Rouleau could picture his dad’s smile in the darkness. He reached an arm around his father’s shoulders. “Thanks, Dad,” he said.

“No, son. Thank you. I know how much pressure you’ve been under to spend these last months looking after me while settling into a new life. I’m much better now and ready to get back on my feet, if you pardon the expression.”

“Then I’ll start seriously looking for real estate.” He’d find a bungalow where his father could move in once he could no longer live on his own.

His heart lightened. It would be a chance to contact Laney Masterson again.

Chapter Twenty-One

 T
ake no notice of me,” Kala said to Jucinda Rivera. “I’m getting a feel of how this place operates, so please carry on as normal. If I have questions, I’ll be sure to ask.” She pointed to the couch. “I’ll set up there.”

“Great.” Jucinda grimaced. She looked down at the textbook she’d been reading and used her feet to turn her chair so that her back was to her desk and the couch. Kala found the childish gesture non-productive but amusing. Probably a passive-aggressive personality, if she remembered her psych classes. She wouldn’t have pegged this surly girl who dressed like a street walker in a low-cut top and black bra to be a counsellor. Someone answering a sex phone talk line maybe, but not talking university kids through their problems.

The phone on Jucinda’s desk rang and she was forced to turn her chair back around. She reached out a manicured hand to pick up the receiver. Her eyes rolled toward the ceiling as she said, “Queen’s Help Line. What can I do for you?” She leaned forward and cradled the phone receiver against her ear. Within seconds, her body language changed from disinterested to attentive listener as the caller spelled out their problem, which involved binge drinking as far as Kala could determine. Jucinda doled out information and choices in a cool but professional tone. Her eyes focused in on Kala as she hung up the phone. She shrugged.

“First year away from home, they’re like babes in the woods.” She opened a program on her computer and typed a notation into the log. Kala walked over to have a look.

“Do you log every call then?”

“We don’t have call display and the caller remains anonymous, but we do enter time and length of call, problem, and advice given. We also get to know the repeat callers, although not by name. We give them a number, see? The last caller is new so I’m making a note of that.”

Mark Withers, manager and wannabe beach boy, walked through the front door carrying two coffees. “Jucinda, sorry I’m late, but you wouldn’t believe …” He cut off whatever else he was going to say when he spotted Kala behind her. “You’re back,” he said. “I guess that means you haven’t caught Leah’s killer.”

“Unfortunately not.”

“We handed over Leah’s computer and notes already.”

“The lab is going through them. I’m just here to re-interview everyone and watch how this place functions.”

“Don’t you need permission from us to spend the day here?”

“This is a murder investigation. We don’t need your permission, no.”

Mark looked back at Jucinda. “New top?”

“Maybe.”

“Nice.” He put a coffee on her desk. “Nate will be in around ten and Gail and Wolf will be in at six for the night shift.”

“I thought Wolf resigned from the help line,” Kala said.

“He’s doing a few shifts until we hire somebody to replace … well, Leah.” Mark and Jucinda exchanged glances. “So, do you want to come into my office to ask me some questions?” Mark asked Kala.

“Not yet. I will in good time.” Kala wanted them all off balance, outside their comfort zones. Waiting all day to be interviewed would heighten their anxiety.

“Well, suit yourself. I have paperwork to do.”

He walked into his office, leaving his door open wide enough so that he could hear what was going on. Jucinda pointed toward his office and said under her breath, “Usually he shuts the door.”

“Do you always sit at the same desk?” Kala asked.

“Yeah, unless I’m replacing someone and the other counsellor is staying on. Leah sat at that desk. Gail replaced her on late shift as a rule.”

“Did you notice anything different about Leah the last month before she died? Anything or anyone bothering her?”

“Gail’s the one you should be asking. She treats the rest of us like specimens for her research. I swear to God she takes notes.”

“What did you think about Leah? Did you like her?”

“I didn’t know her that well.”

“You must have had an opinion. You worked on the same shift.”

“She was okay. A little holier-than-thou, maybe.”

“How so?”

The phone picked that moment to ring. Jucinda held a finger up in Kala’s direction and took the call. Afterward, she typed notes into the computer. Kala waited until she was finished before repeating her question.

Jucinda sighed and rolled her eyes, something she did as regularly as breathing, Kala observed. “Leah acted nice, you know? Really concerned about people and generous. I bought it for a while.”

“What did she do that made you change your mind about her?”

“I confided in her that I was interested in Wolf. He’d only started working here and it was before they started dating, so of course I felt like an idiot when I found out they’d become a couple. She gave me some explanation about how it just happened and she felt so bad, but bottom line, she could have had anybody and she picked Wolf even though she knew I was hot for him. Then I find out she’s sleeping around on him. I was so mad …” Jucinda pulled herself back and blinked at Kala. “I didn’t kill her. I was angry, but not
that angry.”

“Anyone would be upset. Do you know who she was seeing on the side?”

Jucinda glanced toward Mark Withers’s office. “I couldn’t say for certain.”

“But you could guess.”

“It wouldn’t be right. I just saw them together from a distance.”

“She might have been with Wolf then.”

“Wolf was working the late shift when I saw Leah with the other guy. It was a month or so ago. I left Wolf talking to someone on the phone and started walking home. Leah was in a car a few streets over, sort of away from the street light in the shadows. I’m not even sure why I walked down that street. Fate, maybe. At first I thought I was hallucinating. I stood back in the shadows and watched for a while. It was definitely her but I never got a good look at the guy. She was on top of him. Kind of riding him, if you get my drift.”

“What did you do with the information?”

“I told Wolf. He deserved to know the truth.”

“And how did he react when you told him his girlfriend was cheating?”

“He didn’t thank me, if that’s what you’re asking. He got real quiet and then acted like I hadn’t said anything. They broke up the next day though. I did the guy a favour.”

“Did Leah ever find out that you were the one who told Wolf?”

Jucinda shook her head. “She never acted like it.”

Nate came for his shift soon after and Kala sat out of the way on the couch, taking in the rhythm of the day. If Mark was the beach boy and Jucinda the spiteful princess, then Nate struck her as the preppie academic. She approached his desk when Jucinda left to fill their sandwich order. She spotted the platinum wedding band on his finger. He looked up at her, his face impassive.