Closing Time

by Brenda Chapman

  “How old are your twins?” asked Stonechild.

  “Two-and-a-half-year-old boys.” Judd laughed. He ran a hand through his tight brown curls. He was fifty pounds overweight and his face was round and cherubic. “We’re having trouble finding a sitter at the moment. Go figure.”

  “Thank the Lord that Judd is a hands-on dad, or I’d be in the loony bin by now,” added Elena.

  The two exchanged another fond smile. Judd looked across at Clark. “But you’re here about Rachel, not our family trials and tribulations. To be honest, I can’t say that I noticed her all that much on Saturday night. She didn’t serve our table.”

  Elena interrupted. “She looks after the twins when I go to church. Judd wouldn’t know that because he stays home with Robby and they have their bonding time. I thought she was terrific with the kids and always so friendly, although not outgoing. Yes, I’d say she was introverted.”

  “Did she have any other friends or close relationships that you know of ?” asked Clark.

  “She was friendly with Darryl Kelly, but I sensed he liked her more than she liked him. I didn’t see her interact with anybody else except the kids and her mother and, of course, with Father Vila after mass. He’d come downstairs to his office and stop to chat to whoever was around.”

  “Did you see Rachel outside of church?” asked Stonechild.

  They both shook their heads. “I tried to line her up to babysit, but she was always busy,” Elena said.

  “Such a loss,” said Judd. “I’m going to see if anything needs to be done to make that stretch of road safer for pedestrians and bikers.”

  “It wasn’t a hit and run,” said Clark. “Somebody deliberately killed her. She was beaten and rolled into the culvert.”

  “Oh?” Judd’s face drained of colour and Elena’s gasp filled the silence. “This is the first we’ve heard,” he said. “How could something so horrific happen in Searchmont? Who else knows?”

  “Rachel’s parents and a few people at Pine Hollow Lodge. We haven’t made this information public knowledge, but as reeve, you should be aware.”

  “Of course.” Judd looked across at his wife, who’d raised a hand to cover her mouth. “I’ll need to get the town council together for a meeting tonight.” He looked back at Clark. “You’ll keep me informed?”

  “I’ll share as much as I can.” He took out a business card and handed it over. “Call me if you hear anything of interest through your network. We’ll follow up all leads.”

  “Certainly. This is going to take a while to absorb.”

  He was standing with an arm around Elena’s shoulders when Clark and Stonechild left the house. She was leaning into him and he had his head bowed talking to her.

  “I think we can rule them off the list. Agreed?” he said to Stonechild.

  She watched them for a moment before opening the passenger door. “Yeah. You should still have your people check out the hospital alibi. She doesn’t strike me as someone who’d leave the twins alone to go kill Rachel, so if he checks out, I think we’re safe to put them in the no column.”

  “It’s past lunchtime. You up for a cup of tea and a sandwich? We can stop in at the Mountainview Lodge before we go to the church in Goulais.”

  “Sounds like a good idea. We can review what we got this morning and prepare for the next interview. I’m hopeful that Father Vila will fill in some of the gaps about Rachel and her state of mind this summer.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Rouleau met Gundersund in the HQ parking lot after having lunch with Marci at Paradiso’s on Division, where they’d shared a pizza. He was reluctantly returning to a desk filled with reports to read and paperwork that needed his signature. Gundersund was on his way to court to testify on a B and E. The thief had been followed to his apartment and a search warrant had led them to a room full of stolen laptops and televisions.

  “Turning warm,” said Rouleau, loosening his collar. “You may as well go home after you testify. Enjoy an early day while you can.”

  “Thanks, I’ll do that. Gives me a chance to try to contact Kala and Dawn.”

  “No word from them yet?”

  “None. I’d like to hear about the murder case she’s working on.” Gundersund’s eyes were tired and his hair and beard were looking wilder than usual. He ran fingers through his blond curls. “The longer they’re gone the less certain I am that Kingston is going to draw them back anytime soon.”

  “Stonechild has ties here — friends, her job, and a home she loves. She’ll want to return to you most of all.”

  “Given time, but she’s restless. I’m not convinced anyone will ever be able to hold her in one place for long.”

  “I don’t know. I think you might be underestimating her.”

  Rouleau was still thinking about Gundersund’s worried face as he walked into his office. He’d been doing double duty all summer. Acting chief and head of Major Crimes. Heath had officially resigned as chief at the beginning of July, and the police board had offered the job to him. He’d been mulling over the decision all month. The idea of declining the promotion and farming out the rest of his work so he could join Marci in Paris was tempting. Retire early and get out of policing altogether. Start fresh in a new country and be done with the endless paperwork.

  But is that what I want?

  He forced his mind to stop weighing the pros and cons and to focus on the job at hand, buckling down to review a report from the Drug Division. An undercover operation was reaching the half-way point and the classified update showed progress. The OxyContin problem was growing in the high schools and the team was infiltrating the supply chain. His desk phone rang and he reached for it without lifting his eyes from the page.

  “Acting Chief Jacques Rouleau here. How can I help you?”

  “Allô. My name is Lise Charlebois, calling from Joliette Prison. I’ve been trying to reach Officer Kala Stonechild without success. Can you tell me if she’s disponible … available?” She spoke with a thick French accent, not unpleasant to the ear.

  Rouleau set down the file. “Officer Stonechild is away on assignment and difficult to reach. Perhaps I could help you. I’m her staff sergeant.”

  “It’s a personal matter.”

  “Officer Stonechild and I are good friends in addition to working together. Whatever you tell me will be in confidence, but I will pass it on to her if that is your wish.”

  A pause. “Bien, I suppose this will be our best option. She’s fostering the daughter of her friend Rose Cook.”

  “I’m aware.”

  “Rose is in the hospital and is asking to see her daughter.”

  “Is her condition … serious?”

  Another pause, longer this time. “She tried to take her own life yesterday. She’s stable for now, but her doctors are worried about her mental health.”

  “I understand.”

  “The fact she’s asked to see Dawn we believe is a good sign.”

  “Leave this with me and I’ll see what can be done at our end.”

  “I would appreciate that.”

  Rouleau took down phone numbers for her cell and work and promised to call back within a day or two. He sat staring at the phone after he hung up and tried to think how best to handle reaching Stonechild and getting Dawn to Joliette as quickly as possible. Gundersund would be in court at this moment, but that was expected to be routine and should wrap up within the hour. Rouleau searched around his jacket pocket for his cellphone and sent Gundersund a text.

  Something’s come up. Merchant after court? Need to run idea past you.

  He set his phone on the desk and waited for a return message. It wasn’t long in coming. He had time to finish reading the report and send in his comments before driving downtown.

  Gundersund was sitting at a table when he arrived at the Merchant with two beers in front of him. He pushed one across to Rouleau as he sat down. “Figured you could use this,” he said. “Freshly poured.”

  “I knew I
kept you around for a reason.” Rouleau took a long drink and set the glass on the coaster. “How did court go?”

  “Good. No surprises.” Gundersund twirled his beer glass around in the moisture on the tabletop. “So, what was so urgent?”

  “I got a call from Joliette. Dawn’s mother’s in the hospital after a suicide attempt. She’s asked to see Dawn.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “She’s stable, but not in the best state of mind. What do you think about driving to Searchmont and picking up Dawn and taking her to see her mother? We can spare you for a week since we’re not exactly swamped.”

  Gundersund didn’t leap at the idea as Rouleau had thought he would. He seemed to be running possibilities through his head. “The thing is, if I show up unannounced Stonechild might not like it.” He took a drink of beer, swallowed, then sighed. “But that’s neither here nor there. The important thing is to get Dawn to see her mother. I’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

  “I’ll try to get in touch with Stonechild in the meantime. I can call the North Bay detachment and get a message to her that way. The staff sergeant sent a quick update two days ago that the investigation was going to take a while.”

  “Kala would want to take Dawn herself if she wasn’t part of this case.”

  “Hopefully the staff sergeant was overly pessimistic and the investigation will wrap up soon so she can follow you.”

  Gundersund drained the last of his beer and set the glass on the table. He smiled at Rouleau and said, “Nice to dream, but I’m not counting on it.”

  The afternoon light was murky with late-day shadows stretching across the pavement when Clark drove into the church parking lot. The building was white clapboard, single-storey with an impressive steeple next to the highway into town. A sign out front told him that all children of God were welcome, a comforting idea but not one in which he held any stock. The parking lot was empty except for a green Toyota in the reserved spot near the door.

  “Looks like we caught Father Vila at work,” Stonechild said, unbuckling her seat belt.

  “And he appears to be alone.”

  They followed a sign and arrows that took them down a flight of stairs and along a corridor that passed by a meeting room and daycare, both standing empty with the lights off. The hallway smelled musty like Clark’s own basement at home. Nobody was working at the secretary’s desk. Vila’s office door was closed and Clark rapped sharply with his knuckles. Father Vila called for them to come in. He was working on his laptop on a worn couch and looked up at their entrance. He closed the laptop and invited them to sit. “You must be here about Rachel,” he said.

  Clark took the lead as he’d agreed with Stonechild before their arrival. “Thanks for seeing us, Father. I’m Officer Harrison from the Sault detachment and this is Officer Stonechild. We understand you were at the restaurant the night of Rachel Eglan’s death.” He moved into the room as he spoke with Stonechild behind him. They took the chairs facing Vila. He was dressed casually in jeans but with a black shirt and clerical collar. From the research, Clark knew him to be forty-one. Dark-haired, black-eyed, and olive-skinned, already sporting a five o’clock shadow on his cheeks. His face was solemn and his voice low and pleasing. Clark could imagine that voice holding a congregation spellbound during Sunday service.

  “Please, call me Alec. I’ve been writing the sermon for Rachel’s funeral, although Isabelle Eglan tells me that you haven’t released her body yet. The community is devastated by her tragic loss and the ceremony will help to begin the healing.” He stood and pointed toward a coffee machine next to his desk. “May I offer you a cup?”

  “None for me,” said Stonechild, but Clark nodded. They were silent until Vila returned with two mugs and settled himself again.

  “Tell us about the last evening when you saw her at the restaurant,” said Clark.

  “She waited on other tables, but we exchanged pleasantries when we arrived and as we were leaving. I asked how her week was going and she said fine. My sister, Sara, was visiting from Sudbury and was leaving in the morning, so I was treating her to dinner. We sat with two other couples who happened to enter the restaurant at the same time as us.”

  Clark opened his notepad. “Phil and Greta Bocock and Judd and Elena Neilson.”

  “That’s correct. Reeve Neilson and his wife got called home to tend to their son partway through the meal. We left shortly before the Bococks.”

  “We understand Rachel came to church with her mother and helped out with the children during service.”

  “Yes, Rachel came most Sundays. Her mother is devout, but Rachel less so. Still, she loved the kids and appeared happy enough to be here.”

  “Did Rachel ever confide in you about her life? Would she have told you if anything was troubling her?”

  Father Vila closed his eyes for a moment as he considered the question. “Rachel was a private person. I would never have pushed her to confide in me if she wasn’t willing. I can tell you, though, that she seemed happier than at the beginning of the summer. I put this down partly to her mother’s loosening attentions. One might say that she was protective of Rachel to a fault.” His gentle smile dimmed the rebuke implicit in his words.

  Vila had effectively sidestepped his question. Stonechild glanced at Clark and he nodded for her to go ahead. She asked, “What can you tell us about Rachel’s relationship with Darryl Kelly?”

  “They dated at one time. He was more interested in Rachel than she was in him. They both worked with the children downstairs Sunday mornings.”

  “Was he upset by her disinterest?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Did she show interest in anyone else?”

  “You mean as a boyfriend?”

  “Yes.”

  He stared at her intently and took his time answering. “I couldn’t say.”

  Clark posed the question they’d asked everyone. “After you left the restaurant, did you and Sara go straight home?”

  “Yes. Sara was leaving on the morning bus so she wanted an early evening. She had a night shift at the hospital once she got home. I can give you her contact information if that helps.” He seemed unruffled by the implication behind the question, and Clark glanced over at Stonechild to see if she had anything to add. Her eyes were on the priest but he couldn’t read her face.

  “Any more questions Officer Stonechild?” Clark asked.

  “No, that does it for now.” She closed her notebook and stood. “I think we can let Father Vila complete his sermon in peace.”

  They left him opening his laptop and followed the corridor to the steps leading to the outdoors. A wind had come up while they were in the church basement and swollen grey clouds were scudding in from the west. Stonechild squinted skyward and cursed. “I was going to take Dawn for a paddle before supper, but a storm’s coming in.”

  “Do you have time to go over the interviews and plan next steps?”

  She scowled. “I’d rather not. I’ve left Dawn alone all day.” She took a few steps and stopped. “But I guess we should. Let’s go back to Pine Hollow and we can do it there.”

  Clark thought about what he was asking of her and felt a twinge of guilt. She wasn’t a person who could easily separate her work life from her personal commitments — when she got involved in a case she became a single-minded bulldog until it was solved. He could see the two forces pulling at her: her niece and their holiday versus the desire to immerse herself completely in solving Rachel’s murder. She wouldn’t thank him for putting her in this dilemma, not now; not later. He didn’t dare throw his brother’s presence into the mix no matter what Valerie’s voice in his head was telling him to do. Informing Jordan about Stonechild was as far as he was prepared to get involved. If they happened to meet up, it would not be through his doing. The two of them were on their own.

  Dawn woke a few times before she got out of bed at eleven. She couldn’t figure out why she was so tired when she lay around all day, but liked not having
to do anything. No school, no chores, and nowhere to be. She was even finding the lack of social media a relief, although she missed being in contact with a few people: Gundersund and Emily. Henri and Jacques Rouleau. Even Vanessa and Chelsea.

  She rolled over and reached an arm over the side of the bed to scratch Taiku behind the ears. He followed her to the bathroom and waited outside the door until she emerged again. “Is Kala gone?” she asked him, but knew the answer before she checked the other bedroom and the front rooms. She didn’t mind. Not really. She read the note propped up against the teapot and found her breakfast in the fridge. While it heated up in the microwave, she boiled the kettle and let the tea steep as she ate. The sky was blue but white clouds were creeping higher above the treeline. Fingers of shadow drifted across the window. She could hear wind rattling the windows and buffeting the cabin and knew a storm was making its way across the lake. It would be a few hours yet.

  Kala’s note had said that she’d be home late afternoon and they’d go out in the canoe then. The reminder not to go swimming alone was repeated, the worry implicit. Dawn cleaned up her dishes and took the mug of tea outside. Taiku led her down to the dock and she sat with her feet dangling over the side while sipping tea and looking into the dark water. She was leaning over to get a closer look at the fish wriggling past when Taiku leapt to his feet and stood at attention. Dawn turned her head and watched a blond woman in a red-and-white sundress and pink flip-flops emerge from the edge of the woods and start down the trail toward the dock.

  “Hey, there!” The woman waved and smiled as she approached. She held a tall, blue glass. Ice cubes clinked against each other as she walked. She stopped at the end of the dock. “Permission to come aboard?” she asked.

  “If you want.” Dawn told Taiku to relax and held on to his collar as the woman dropped down next to her in a cloud of flowery-scented perfume. She held out her hand, “I’m Petra. My husband Shane’s been cooking your meals all week.” She laughed, showing perfect, white teeth, made brighter by her bronze tan. “And you’re Dawn, right?”