Prairie Hardball (20 page)

The funeral was at two the next afternoon. The gathering was small and the ceremony was brief but comforting. My father spoke with quiet eloquence about loss, grieving, and forgiveness. Jack spoke, movingly, about his mother and her importance in his life. I didn’t dare look in my mother’s direction, but knew the pain she must be feeling. It was all over in fifteen minutes, and we were back in the parking lot in the sunshine. In addition to my parents, Jack, Edna, Andy, and me, there were a few locals. Don Deutsch, Hugh Grenfell, and Walt Digby came from the RCMP; Dave Shury from the Hall of Fame was there with his wife, Jane; Garth Elshaw, who must have been still reeling from the shock of his friend’s death; and, surprisingly, Ruth Fernie.

I wanted to talk to Garth, who stood a bit apart, waiting to have a word with Jack, but I didn’t know what to say. Andy interrupted my indecision before I could make my move.

“Do you mind going back alone?” he asked. “I’m going for a coffee with Walt Digby. He’ll drop me back at the hotel.”

“That’s fine. Don’t be too long. I’ll finish packing and check out.”

Garth was in conversation with Jack by then, so I felt somewhat let off the hook. I told my parents I would see them back at the hotel and hopped in the Grapemobile, something else I was going to be glad to see the last of.

I took the old highway back towards Battleford, pulling off the road when I got to Finlayson Island. I was a little overdressed for hiking, but I was wearing flat shoes, which would be fine for easy walking. I had half an hour to kill.

The parking lot was empty, which was a surprise on such a beautiful afternoon. I walked down the trail through the trees until I came to the river’s edge. I could hear birds singing, but, as usual, couldn’t find them without help from Andy. He’s the birdwatcher. The only time I’m any good at finding the damn things is in the spring and fall, when there aren’t any leaves.

I found a log by the path near the shore to sit on, and watched some ducks swimming, a mother and four babies. It was good to be alone.

Aside from the faint sound of cars on the bridge and the birds, it was quiet. I closed my eyes and held my face to the afternoon sun and breathed in the peace.

Then I heard something, an animal, maybe, crackling through the brush. I sat up and saw Garth Elshaw come down the trail.

“Mr. Elshaw! You startled me,” I said.

“I saw that purple car from the road. I thought I would find you and that Munro fellow.”

“Well, Andy’s not here. He’s with the RCMP officers.”

“I guess you’ll be heading back east now.”

“Yes, tomorrow,” I said. “We’re flying out of Saskatoon. We might even drive down tonight, depending on how my parents feel. I’m glad you found me. I was going to say goodbye after the funeral, but I didn’t want to interrupt your talk with Jack.”

“Well, I wanted to tell him I had no hard feelings. He said he might come up for a visit sometime.”

“I’m glad.”

“I guess I’m the closest thing to family he’s got, now.”

Little did he know.

“I guess you are,” I said.

“What are you doing walking around here?”

“It was a nice day. I like to get away from people sometimes. Sometimes I prefer the birds for company.”

“There’s a great horned owl down the path,” he said, not taking the hint. “She sleeps in the same tree a lot. You ever seen one of those?”

“We have them back east, too.”

“I’m not much of one for birds. Morley liked them. He liked to walk around here. That’s why I came by this way. Thinking about him and all.”

Garth looked slightly embarrassed by this display of sentiment. I kicked myself for trying to brush him off.

“Of course,” I said. “You were friends for a long time.”

“Over seventy years.”

“Shall we walk for a while?” I asked.

“I recall him telling me about some birds he saw last week, some avocets, he said.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen one of those,” I said.

“They have long legs, and this curious kind of bill. Sort of pretty, and comical at the same time. Called the American avocet. At the far point of the island, he said. I thought I’d go have a look at them.”

“Do you mind if I come along?”

“Suit yourself.”

We walked down the trail, side by side when it was wide enough. He led the way when it got narrow. We followed a path away from the shore, into the woods.

“I’m sorry about your friend,” I said. “I can’t help wondering if what we talked about upset him and made him, you know, do what he did. But when I left him, he seemed fine. He really did. I just wish I had stayed.”

“I don’t know how he could have been fine,” Elshaw said. “When he called me on the phone, he was raving, he was as crazy as I’ve ever heard him.”

“What did he say?”

“How the police were after him, they were coming to get him, I had to help him get away. He said he couldn’t go to jail. He was afraid of prison. He was afraid of being locked up again.”

“But I told him he wasn’t going to have to go to jail.”

“Well, he didn’t believe you.”

“
I’m just so sorry. I’d give anything to have prevented it.”

Elshaw touched my arm and pointed at a tree just off the path.

“Look there, now. There’s the owl.”

Following his finger I could make out the distinctive shape with its tufted ears.

“Saw one go after a cat one time,” Elshaw said. “Almost got him too.”

Not a pleasant thought. We continued down the path.

“Mr. Elshaw, did it surprise you, about Morley, I mean?”

“Now that I look back, he was saying some strange things before the banquet. But I didn’t think anything about it.”

“What kind of strange things?”

“About the time after the war when Wilma left to play baseball. You know, instead of sticking with him. He got kind of worked up about it. His memory twisted things sometimes. I guess he believed it was her fault, Virna’s.”

“Did he talk about her over the years?”

“No. Just since this Hall of Fame thing came up. He hadn’t even seen her since way back then.”

“Even when she came and visited?”

“He stayed away then. She didn’t want to see him, neither.”

“He said he came as your guest to the banquet. Why did he come, if he was so bitter about the past?”

“He goes to all the dinners, seeing as how he works there and all. I thought he should be there. I thought it was the right thing. If he saw all those women as old ladies, he’d see there was nothing to get mad at.”

“He certainly seemed to be having a good time that night,” I said. “We were sitting together.”

We were just coming out of the woods and heading down a little hill on slippery mud from the previous day’s rain. The smooth leather soles of my shoes didn’t give me any traction, and my left food slid out from under me. I would have fallen, if Garth hadn’t turned and grabbed my arm.

“Careful now,” he said. “You don’t want to fall.”

“Thank you. These aren’t the best shoes for walking.”

“It’s not much further now,” he said, and started off again.

“Mr. Elshaw, what do you think happened that night? I mean, I saw you both at the bar afterwards, along with all those women. Did you leave before Morley?”

“We left at the same time. Morley drove that night. He doesn’t drink. He let me off, and that’s all I know.”

“What time was that? I didn’t see you leave.”

“We just had one drink. Morley had ginger ale. Probably 12:15. No later.”

“Then what?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean do you figure he went back to the hotel? Or did he find her in the Hall of Fame?”

“What did he tell you?”

“He didn’t tell me anything, except that he didn’t have anything to do with it. I’m just trying to figure out how it happened. Because it’s so hard to believe he did it.”

“I guess he must have went back to the hotel.”

“But why? How did he know what room she was in? She was last seen going to her room. Alone.”

“Beats me. But that’s what he must have done. Maybe he wanted to talk to her.”

“Edna told me that Virna wanted to go and play a practical joke on her teammates, but didn’t know how to get in. If she ran into him after she left, maybe she asked him to take her there. Do you think?”

Elshaw behind me, now, on the narrow path, didn’t answer.

“Then when they got there, how do you think it happened?”

“Maybe she said something that made him mad and he just took the bat and hit her. He probably didn’t mean to kill her. It was, like they say, involuntary. Because Morley never would hurt a fly. After he hit her, he panicked, and took his tie and finished her off. He didn’t want to get in trouble. Maybe he wasn’t thinking too clearly. Got confused, likely.”

“But why? What had she ever done to him?”

“She stole Wilma away from him. Into a life of shame. That’s how he saw it.”

The path had come close to the river again. I could see it through the bushes, a wet silty beach littered with driftwood logs. Elshaw stopped.

“You want to see them avocets,” he said, “Morley said they were by this point, just here. Let me look.”

He moved past me and leaned out over the water, holding onto the trunk of a black birch, looking to his right.

“Yes, they’re there. Take a look. Be quiet, though. You don’t want to scare them away.”

He stepped back and I took his place. There was a weedy cove and there, wading in the shallow water among some reeds, were the avocets. As he had said, very comical birds, about eighteen inches tall, with upward curving bills and rusty heads. They were wonderful, dipping those splendid bills in the water, swishing them back and forth. I watched them for a few minutes, but my mind was on something Elshaw had said. Something that didn’t seem right.

“Mr. Elshaw,” I said, my eyes still on the birds. “When did Morley tell you all of this?”

“He didn’t. He never said anything. I was just guessing.”

“Then how did you know about him hitting her with the bat? How did you know about the necktie?”

“I read about it in the paper, I guess.”

“But none of those details were in the paper,” I said. “The police were keeping that confidential.”

I turned to look at him. It was as if a stranger had taken Elshaw’s place. His thick glasses couldn’t hide the cold rage in his eyes that transformed him from a bland old man to someone much more dangerous. Next thing I knew, I was in very cold water, and he was right behind me. It became very quickly obvious that helping me wasn’t what he had in mind.

“What are you doing?” I shouted, but I knew the answer. He was trying to push my head under water. Luckily, it was shallow enough for me to be able to twist around and brace myself on my knees in the clinging mud, making his job difficult.

“Shut up,” he said. “You know too much.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Let me up.”

I struggled, but he was strong for an old man. He stood in the knee-deep water and grabbed me around the waist from behind, one hand on my breast, mashing it painfully.

“You should have left well enough alone. Now I have to kill you, too.”

I started to yell. He planted a big palm over my mouth.

“Here’s the deal,” he said, panting slightly. “You were walking along the path here, see. Then you slipped in your fancy shoes. Then you hit your head on a log here. Then you drowned.”

I tried to speak, but he kept his hand over my mouth. Half my nose was blocked as well. I was having trouble breathing.

“I mean it,” he said. “If I can kill my best friend, I can kill you easy.”

I looked wildly around, trying to see if there was anyone whose attention I could attract, but we were out of view of the bridge, isolated on the little cove. I stopped struggling, trying to keep calm and think of what to do.

“Don’t yell, now,” he said. I shook my head. “I’m going to take my hand off your mouth. Are you going to yell?”

I shook my head once more, and he let me breathe. I gasped and coughed. He still had one arm wrapped around me.

“Why?” I asked, when I could.

“That woman put me through fifty years of shame. She dragged my sister into filth and ruined the family name. The shame killed my mother. And she just laughed at me.”

“But why now? Why after all these years?”

He let out a harsh sound, a kind of sardonic bark.

“Because I could. I could get away with it. I almost did it thirty-five years ago. In the woods during hunting season. But the boy came along. I didn’t want to hurt the boy. Now don’t you move.”

He climbed out of the water and stood on the bank, panting, but blocking my way out of the water. I could see by the expression on his face that I wouldn’t be able to get past him.

“I would have got away with it clean, except for that old fool Morley telling you about the letters.”

“All he told me was that he wrote them,” I said, stalling for time.

“He wrote them to warn them away from me. That’s what he told me when he called after he talked to you yesterday. He wasn’t in any state. I made that up. He told me he knew I did it. He figured it all out. He threatened me.”

“But he didn’t say anything to me,” I said. “I didn’t know anything. You didn’t have to do this. This was all do unnecessary, don’t you see?”

Also irrelevant. If I didn’t know too much before, I did now. I kept talking to give my mind time to catch up.

“Look, Garth, don’t make things worse for yourself,” I said. “The police think Morley did it, the case is closed. Let me go and I’ll just leave the Battlefords and never come back.”

I wouldn’t have bought it either. I looked at Elshaw, who was standing with his boots in the water. He was leaning towards where I was kneeling in the water, ready to make his move.

I made sure that my feet were braced under me in the mud, then slumped my shoulders and hung my head to look vulnerable, making sure I could still see his legs and feet. When he shifted them to move towards me, I straightened up as forcefully as I could, and butted him in the stomach.

He had to grab hold of a bush to keep from falling, and I was able to get to my feet, which put us on equal, if precarious, footing. When he grabbed me again, instead of pulling away, I pushed, setting him off-balance long enough to brace myself and drive my right knee up into his groin.

He shouted in pain, but kept his grip on my arms. We went at it half in and half out of the water.

By the time I managed to free my right arm, I was on the narrow beach, bent back painfully over a driftwood log, with the stub of a branch stabbing into my shoulder. His hands went around my throat. I could hear his rasping breath.

With my last strength, I pushed up and wrenched around to grab the log and flail it at his head. It connected and he went limp, pinning me into the muck. I rolled him off me and got up.

He lay on his back, with his eyes rolled up into their sockets. His glasses hung off his left ear and he was covered in mud and blood.

“Oh, shit,” I said, and began to run as fast as I could back up the trail to the parking lot.

By the time I got there, I was wiped out. I’d lost my purse somewhere on the trail, with my car keys in it. I staggered up the last hill to the highway.

The first three cars swerved to avoid me and accelerated. I was wet, barefoot, covered in mud, and my hair was wild, sticking out in all directions. I probably looked like an escaped lunatic.

The fourth vehicle stopped, an old beat-up pickup driven by a tough-looking Indian with pock marks on his face. There was a gang of scraggy-looking teenagers riding in the back, but their baseball gear reassured me.

“You got problems, lady?” he asked.

“I’ve got to get to the police,” I said. “There’s a man hurt back there in the woods.”

“Get in,” he said. “Joe, you go get in back, make room for the lady.”

One of the two teens did what he was told, and I squeezed in next to the other one.

“You don’t look so hot yourself,” the driver said.

“It’s a long story.”

“Who’s the guy hurt?”

“That’s a long story, too.”

“Looks like you been in a fight,” said the teen in the middle.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. The adrenalin had left my body in a rush, and I was shaking.

“Mud wrestling, maybe,” he said, and snickered.

“You all right?” asked the driver.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said, not opening my eyes.

“Well, we’re here,” he said. “RCMP headquarters.”

I thanked him and got out of the truck.

“I’m sorry about the mud,” I said. The whole bunch of them watched me walk up the front steps on rubbery legs. I got inside the door. The receptionist took one look at me and buzzed the door. I walked right through the bullpen, my shoes squelching with every step, and into the GIS office.

Don Deutsch looked up from his desk, then hung up the phone.

“What the hell.”

“I think I just killed Garth Elshaw,” I said. Then I fell into a chair and burst into tears.