The judge left the room by the same concealed door. A collective sigh sent everyone into a titter. A relaxed grin crossed Gibson’s face. Paula placed a palm over her heart. Her smile was small and fleeting as if she couldn’t believe everything would be fine. A light flush dotted her cheeks. It was the first time Gibson had seen any colour in her ghostly pallor.
“Lunch anyone?” he asked. “The lawyer pays.”
Peter jabbed the detective in the arm.
* * *
It had been a long day. Gibson was all alone in the office, his head clouded with questions. He swivelled his chair, stretched out his legs and laced his fingers behind his head. His tense muscles loosened minimally. Everything had gone well with Ryder. That he was happy with. His uncertainty was about his ability to do the job.
Na had been in touch to let him know that Hopkins hadn’t shown up at the marina yet. Gunner said the sailboat had probably been delayed by a storm that was sweeping in farther north. It had lashed the west coast of British Columbia with gale force winds and rain for two days. Gibson figured he would go by in the morning and sort it out. If they ever showed up at all.
He had no other pressing business, so he locked up and went home.
* * *
Katherine sat in the living room in an overstuffed chair with a mug of steaming tea on the end table. A book lay upside down on the throw blanket folded over her knees. Muted voices from the television played in the background. The finches, cuddled together in the corner of their cage, were having an afternoon nap.
Gibson tiptoed past and headed down the hallway. After a refreshing shower, his nose led him to the kitchen.
“Are you sneaking around the house?” Katherine asked. She stood in the doorway. “Did it go well?”
“Couldn’t be better,” he answered.
“Why do you look so down?”
“It’s been stressful.”
“Have you eaten?” Katherine asked.
“Yes. But I have to say, I smell something awesome cooking.”
“Lasagna. Your favourite.”
“You’re a doll. When will it be ready?”
“Another hour.”
“Time for me to go across the street? Check out my kayak.”
“Sure.” She waited by the door as he headed for the dock. “Don’t be late,” she shouted.
Gibson walked down the ramp to wooden docks that stretched out into the water. Various sized boats were tied up. Most were cruisers or ski boats. The sailboats were anchored out in the bay. He pulled his kayak off the rack and wiped it down with a rag. As he polished the fibreglass hull, he thought about where the case was going. It was basically stalled unless they could break Kevin’s alibi. That would give them access to his DNA and fingerprints. There was no way Kevin would give these up voluntarily. He was adamant he was guiltless of any misconduct. That was worth a laugh. Gibson was convinced domestic violence had been a large part of Dianne’s life and ended with her dying.
All they needed was the blood on the hilt, or the partial print to be Kevin’s. Or better still—both. There were no other motives. There were no other suspects. Suddenly it came to him that speaking to Hopkins was imperative. Was he a friend of Kevin and avoiding the detective? No, he didn’t imagine anyone would want to be implicated in a murder cover-up. The bad thought came and went.
Gibson decided he would stand on the dock all day tomorrow if he had to. He finished up and headed back home.
Chapter 32
Expensive cars queued up along the circular driveway. Gibson spun his truck around the fountain and parked further up the hill. He held onto Katherine’s hand as they strolled back to the house. As the hosts, the Parkers stood in the lobby and greeted the patrons as they came in. Jackson wore a black suit, white shirt, and black patent shoes that matched his wife’s black and white sequined outfit.
“We’re going to bring the bucks in tonight,” Jackson said. “We haven’t had such a large turnout for a fundraiser, since when I don’t know.”
“This is fantastic. Anatoe will be so pleased.”
“Have fun. We’ll talk later.” Jackson turned to embrace the next person.
Gibson and Katherine moved through the hallway to the grand room. Guests mingled and sipped champagne. The ladies wore chic dresses and glittering jewellery. The men had tailor-made suits and Rolex watches. Not quite a black-tie affair but close. Waiting staff dressed in white with black sashes around their waist carried trays of drink and slipped unobtrusively through the crowd. Voices drifted into the room from the people outside.
They stepped out onto the patio. There was a buffet counter set up at one end, with an ice sculpture of a car. Tables covered in white cloths were spread across the lawn. The perfumed smell of flowers floated along by the faint breeze. Gibson spotted Anatoe milling about and shaking hands. He knew a few employees from the bank, as well.
Gibson placed his hand at the small of Katherine’s back and pointed her to an empty table. Close by a quartet played classical music.
“This is posh,” Gibson said.
“Isn’t it?” she replied.
Jackson strolled up to a dais on the terrace. The music stopped abruptly.
“Thank you for coming. And for supporting our youth,” the host said. “I can’t express how important all these programs are. So dig in deeper than usual tonight. I know everyone here is very generous, and I want to thank everyone in advance for their help. That’s all I have to say. Enjoy the evening.”
After the clapping died down, the band took up a merry tune. Jackson stepped away from the microphone and blended into the crowd. The chatter became louder as people began to intermingle, catching up with old friends and meeting new ones. Occasionally, the warm air was punctuated by hoots of laughter.
Gibson headed to the buffet. He picked up two plates from a tall stack and cutlery from a basket. The sun filtered down through the trees and threw the first shadows of the approaching dusk. Tiki torches glowed orange in the dimming light. As Gibson waited his turn, he scanned the lawn and spotted Chelsea, the head teller from the bank. He wondered when she had returned from her trip. He was tempted to rush down and interrogate her, but common sense made him stay in the line. The sputtering of burgers on the grill drew his attention. Citronella candles mixed with the wood smoke wafted around the terrace. He made it back to the table without dropping anything.
“I’ll be right back,” Gibson said as he put the plates down.
“I don’t know if I can eat much so soon.” Katherine stared at him as he walked away.
Gibson strode up to the bank teller and said, “Hello, Chelsea. May I have a word with you?”
She tilted her head and frowned.
“I’m Inspector Gibson. I spoke to you at the bank, about Dianne.”
“Of course.”
“I’m really sorry to approach you just now about this, but I haven’t been able to reach you.”
Chelsea remained quiet. She glanced at her partner.
“Can I ask you about Dianne? You mentioned her family life.”
“I only know what Dianne hinted at.”
“And what’s that?”
“Kevin abused her. Beat her.”
“I see,” Gibson said. “Do you think that led to her death?”
Chelsea lifted her head and stared into his eyes. “I couldn’t say. All I know is she was afraid of him.” She hesitated. “Dianne was seeing someone.”
“She was having an affair?”
“I think so.”
“Who?”
“Someone at work.”
“Did you see something?” Gibson asked.
“No.” Chelsea shrugged. “It’s just a feeling I have.”
Gibson nodded his head. “Thank you.” He walked back to the table and plunked into his chair. He didn’t need to ask Chelsea if she was involved with Kevin. Her partner was a woman.
“What was that about?” Katherine asked.
“Nothing.”
&nb
sp; “Eat. Your food is going cold.”
Gibson took a bite of his burger and chewed slowly, mulling over what Chelsea had said. This was the first time anyone had offered confirmation that Dianne may have suffered domestic abuse at the hand of Kevin. Even Virginia had acted skittish around her father. Was there more to find out? And who the hell could Dianne have been having an affair with? He racked his brain, trying to think of all the male employees that worked at the bank. He swept his eyes toward the house. Paula stood on the patio, her eyes roaming over the grounds. She fixed her gaze on him. The pensive melted into recognition. Gibson gestured to her. Paula hesitated before stepping forward. She stood awkwardly at the table, pressing her hands down her plain cotton dress. Her cheeks were flushed with embarrassment.
“Have a seat. Meet my wife,” Gibson said.
There was something in the way Katherine smiled at you that was calming.
“Your husband has been so kind to us,” Paula said.
“Is Ryder coming?” Katherine asked. She touched Paula’s hand.
“He wasn’t certain he should. He went out on his bike.” Paula sighed and sat back. The conversation flowed easily as they chatted, mostly about Anatoe and his involvement with the youth services.
* * *
The last rays of the late afternoon sun fell through Ryder’s window. His mom had just left for the fundraiser. He lay on his bed and stared at the clouds as they dipped in and out of his view. A tightness in his throat that had persisted since his night in jail made it difficult to swallow. He shuddered at the memory, closing his eyes against the numbness of it all. Anxiety grabbed at him. He could no more turn off his conflicted emotions as alter the truth. As hard as he tried, he worried about the future. Ryder steadied his heartbeat. He daydreamed of a perfect life where stormy moments didn’t exist.
Sunlight played on his eyelids. Ryder tilted his head to the warmth. A surge of courage swept over him. He bounded off the bed and out of the house. He jumped on his bike and pedalled until his legs ached. There was a fresh sense of freedom as he rode through the streets and tracks he knew well. He felt nothing could go wrong now. It simply couldn’t.
When he got to the Parkers’, a fleeting moment of doubt took hold of Ryder as he gazed over the grounds in search of his mom. When he caught sight of her, his heart swelled.
* * *
“Hey, there’s Ryder now,” Gibson said and waved him over.
Ryder flopped into a chair and crossed his arms. He sat still for a few minutes before springing up. “Can I talk to Anatoe?” he asked in a pleading tone. “Don’t worry. I’ll ride my bike back.”
Paula pressed her lips together tightly. “All right. Only don’t be too long. It’s already growing dark.”
“Okay, Mom.” He sauntered across the lawn and vanished.
* * *
Anatoe sat at a big table in the far recess of the yard. He was tilting forward with his elbows resting on the tabletop. It was obvious that he was loving the spotlight. Ryder hesitated momentarily before approaching the crowd gathered around the guest of honour. He had to wedge in-between two rather large people to make it to the front.
Anatoe turned to the right, and their eyes met. If it was anyone else Ryder would have dropped his gaze. He felt a connection with the guy. It was someone who believed in him. Hope hugged Ryder. The following hour was one of the happiest of Ryder’s life. He was a part of something, something big and wonderful. As the daylight dwindled to a dusky gloom, the crowd thinned.
* * *
They continued to talk as the sky darkened.
“Thank you for everything,” Paula said. She rose from her chair. “It’s my bedtime.”
“I’m glad you came,” Gibson said.
They sat quietly after Paula left, listening to the music. The stars began to emerge slowly, one at a time appearing like beacons against the black sky.
“Oh,” Katherine muttered and clutched her belly.
Gibson turned to her, apprehension in his eyes.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m not sure.”
“It’s been a long day for you,” he said. “Perhaps we should go.”
Gibson stood up, preparing to leave. The bank receptionist scurried over to their table. He glanced around before he shoved a note into the detective’s hand. His voice crackled as he spoke, “You can call me.” He took off as fast as he had arrived.
Katherine grabbed at her husband’s wrist. Gibson tucked the paper in his jacket pocket. As he gazed after the man, he spotted Kevin standing with a group of people. Katherine’s nails dug into his skin. He turned back to her slowly.
* * *
Ryder took his leave with the anticipation of good things to come. An optimism shattered moments later. He crossed the terrace and walked into someone blocking the door. When he looked up, he stared into the killer’s eyes. The shock made him take a step backward. Fear snatched his guts. The man spoke first. Ryder fled with the words rolling in his head. Not sure where to turn to, he raced down the steps toward Gibson. He almost tackled the detective in his rush to get away.
“I saw the guy...” Ryder’s breathing was erratic as if he had run a marathon.
“Not now,” Gibson said briskly.
“But...” he sputtered. The bitter taste of blood filled his mouth as he bit down on his lips.
“Sorry, Ryder. We’ll talk about this tomorrow. Katherine’s ill.”
“Okay.” He shrugged and peeked over his shoulder.
Ryder ran back up the stairs and out the front door. As he rode away on his bike, he gritted his teeth with determination. His legs pumped with a furious motion as he headed down the road—no streetlighting to pave his way. The canopy of trees outlined against the sky shut out any light. Even the stars and moon couldn’t breach the dimness ahead. A movement in the gathering darkness froze his heart. A deer darted across the lane and scurried into the underbrush.
He zoomed up the overpass to get over the highway and hit the trails. Dusk was quickly fading into night. The path in front of him vanished into an inky blackness. He burst out of the woods into his street. The streetlamps made garish yellow puddles of light on the pavement. A car moved up the road behind him and passed. Another circle of headlamps on full beam cruised behind him, but followed slowly. The glare shone in his mirror. Panic ripped through Ryder. He knew what the man wanted. With an additional push, his house came into sight. Another few paces, he saw his mother on the porch. Her lit cigarette zigzagged in the shadows.
Ryder felt the crush of metal as the car hit his bike. His mom stood up. Their eyes locked briefly. There was the screech of tires, and then nothing.
Paula screamed and screamed.
The car raced away.
* * *
“Come on.” Gibson steadied Katherine as they worked their way to the vehicle.
She let out a small shriek.
“I’m taking you to the hospital.” Gibson wasn’t sure what was going on, but he knew it wasn’t going to be good. He raced down the main road. His heart was beating in his throat. Katherine had slumped into her seat. Her face had gradually turned pale. At the entryway, he took hold of a wheelchair. He gently lifted her into the seat. There was some blood.
The next hour was mostly a blur. Gibson sat in the waiting area. He stood up, then sat down. Scottie ran into the room.
“What’s going on?”
“She lost the baby.” He closed his eyes and let out a sob.
Chapter 33
The doctor said miscarriages in the first trimester were more common than most people thought. He said Katherine would be herself in a few days with plenty of rest. Gibson knew that wasn’t true. She would never be fine again. This would mark an end to her sanity. But for now, she was tucked in bed at home with a couple of pills to help her sleep. He sat in a chair beside her and watched her drift into a restless slumber. He had attempted to take her hand, but she shook it away. Her rebukes to his attentiveness were disheartening.
Gibson hopped into his truck and headed to Victoria. Few vehicles were out and about at four in the morning. It was rarely he found himself driving with no intention and no destination. He cruised around the waterfront on Beach Drive and came upon Dallas Road without meaning to. The lights of the glass and concrete building were a stark contrast against the black sky. Across the street, the dock lights were almost blindingly bright.
He parked on the road and trudged up the steps to the door. With his key card, he let himself in. The coolness of the foyer felt nice against his hot skin. He halted in front of the lift and pushed the button. The doors slid open immediately. He was obviously the only person around. The ride up to the second floor took five seconds. He stepped into the hallway and walked to his office. After unlocking his door, he flipped the light switch. He tried to remember the last time he was in his office. There was another pile of bulletins on his desk. A few folders as well. But Gibson wasn’t interested in any of it.
He strolled over to the window and gazed at the mountains in the distance. The moon had almost reached the western horizon and would soon disappear from sight. He couldn’t watch the sunrise from here, but a faint glow crept into his peripheral vision. Suddenly, he realized he had been driving around for over two hours.
He turned away from the window and sat at his desk. The bottom drawer was still pulled out, so he rested his feet and leaned back into his chair. He hoped the coffee shop across the street opened early. A sudden dryness in his mouth had made him long for some coffee. He checked his jacket pocket for a mint or something to quench the discomfort. His fingers touched a crumpled-up piece of paper. As he unfolded the note from the bank receptionist, he realized he hadn’t changed his suit from the evening’s event. He read, ‘I think Dianne was having an affair. Hudson.’
STORM ROLL: a Canadian murder mystery series Page 47