Closing Time

by Brenda Chapman

He set down his mug and looked at her. “I think I’ve got it licked and it starts up again.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  The kitchen door swung open and Shane reappeared with Kala’s tea followed by four plates of food. He refilled coffee mugs and conversation stopped while they dug into their meals. Ian and Blaine finished quickly and they got up to leave. “Our last day on the job,” said Ian, stopping at their table. “We’re hoping to get your permission to go home by the weekend.”

  “We’ll do our best,” said Stonechild. Her expression was thoughtful as she watched them walk across the room and exit the front door.

  “What are you thinking?” asked Rouleau.

  “They aren’t being truthful, but I’m not certain what they’re hiding.” She speared the last piece of sausage and popped it into her mouth before leaning back and pushing the plate away. “But nobody at this lodge has been truthful as far as I can determine.” Her head turned toward the kitchen. “Somebody’s entered by the back door. I hear them talking to Shane.” She stood up. “I want to ask him a few questions anyway.”

  “Should I stay here?”

  “No, come with me. You’re my second set of eyes.”

  He followed her into the kitchen. Shane was face to face with a woman and they were deep in discussion, not noticing they had company until the woman touched Shane’s arm and stepped around him. She was dressed for the woods in a plaid jacket, jeans, and low leather boots, her long hair tied back under a black toque. Deep lines etched into the skin around her eyes and mouth as if she hadn’t slept much. Her face was pale as porcelain. “Officer Stonechild,” she said.

  “Martha Lorring, I’d like you to meet Sergeant Jacques Rouleau. He’s driven up from Kingston and is staying with me.” Stonechild turned toward him. “Martha owns the lodge and she and Shane’s mothers are cousins.” She turned back. “I hope we aren’t interrupting.”

  Martha’s mouth opened but Shane jumped in before she said anything. “Martha and I were discussing closing up the kitchen once Blaine and Ian leave. We’re planning out meals for the next few days. Trying to clean out the pantry, as it were.”

  “Welcome. I’ll bring new towels to your cabin this morning,” said Martha shaking Rouleau’s hand. She turned her gaze to Kala. “I’m sorry you haven’t had a restful holiday, Officer Stonechild. I’m giving you a credit in the hopes that you’ll return next year and bring back your niece.”

  “That’s very kind of you. I won’t say no. We never got around to canoeing the rivers that Shane recommended. By the way, did either of you see Thomas at the lodge after Rachel’s service?”

  Shane cut in before Martha. “He came for supper. Sat by himself and I served him. We didn’t talk much. I was bummed about Rachel and not in a good mood. Thomas was unhappy and going on about being taken in for questioning. He said he wasn’t going to take the fall for somebody else. That’s about all I remember because I kind of tuned out his rant, to tell the truth. I went into the kitchen to let him eat in peace, and when I came to check on him, he was gone. He only ate half his meal, so I left the table as it was for a bit to see if he’d stepped out for a minute, but he didn’t return. I locked up an hour early, ate some supper, and met you soon after, Officer Stonechild. We both know the rest.”

  “That’s right. You were looking for Petra. Where was she in the end?” Kala asked.

  “Around. She didn’t really say.” Shane looked back at Martha. “Sorry I cut you off. Did you see Thomas that night?”

  “No. I was exhausted and went straight home to bed after I stopped by to tell you I wouldn’t be working the restaurant that night.” She swung her gaze toward Stonechild. “Rachel’s service was so difficult. I don’t know how you deal with death day in and day out.”

  “We don’t usually know the victim before the investigation, but we also struggle from time to time once we get to know the people who love them. It helps to remember why we’re involved and to keep our focus on finding the perpetrator of the crime. I’ve found that this is the best way to help the family heal.”

  Her answer was met with silence. Stonechild half-turned to look at Rouleau. “We’ll be on our way but will return for supper.”

  Shane cleared his throat. “Good to know. I’m making hunter chicken.”

  “In the meantime, I’ll put the fresh towels in your cabin,” said Martha. “I’m also going to change the sheets today if that’s okay.”

  “Go ahead,” said Stonechild. “We’ll be gone a while.”

  They left Taiku in the cabin and took Stonechild’s truck. She seemed preoccupied and Rouleau didn’t interrupt her silence. He picked up a signal on his cellphone a couple of miles away from the lodge and checked messages while she drove. She hadn’t said where they were going but he knew the day would unfold as it should. This was her show and he would only assist when asked.

  They’d been driving a while down a main road lined in conifer trees, and when he looked up from replying to a message, she’d slowed and was signalling to pull into a church parking lot. “I think Father Vila could be the man Rachel was seeing secretly. He had opportunity certainly and he’s attractive and charismatic. I visited his sister in Sudbury yesterday and she admitted that the Church moved him because of allegations by a young parishioner’s family that he’d been inappropriate with their daughter.”

  “What clued you in to him?”

  “His distress leading Rachel’s service seemed out of proportion. Also, many people said that her mother forced her to go to church every week. Rachel was quietly rebellious and romantic. Father Vila was off limits, which I believe would make him even more attractive to a girl like Rachel. Anyhow, if I’m right, the trick is going to be getting at the truth. He has a lot to lose.”

  “Judging from past trespasses, the Church might move him again to keep his silence. He could live with that, I imagine.”

  “Unless he killed her.”

  “You’re right. Even for the Catholic Church, that would be a game-changer.”

  “You’d think.”

  She parked near the front entrance, and they entered the church. Stonechild listened for a moment before pointing toward the stairs. “He’s probably in his office.”

  The middle-aged woman at reception let Father Vila know of their arrival before she led them into his office. Rouleau took a seat next to Stonechild, a little off to the side, leaving her the chair directly across the coffee table from the priest. He’d been typing on a laptop when they entered. He set it down next to him on the couch.

  “Would you like Ethel to bring coffee or tea?” he asked.

  “No, we’ve had our fill at the lodge, but thank you.” Stonechild leaned forward.

  Rouleau took a glance around the room. Sunlight streamed through the high windows and the space was pleasantly crowded with comfortable, well-worn furniture, including a scarred oak desk sitting atop a faded green carpet. Bookcases overflowed with religious works while classical music played softly from an antiquated sound system. A lit candle on the coffee table filled the room with a spicy scent that Gundersund would be choking on by now if he were here. Rouleau smiled at the thought before focusing his attention on Father Vila. Stonechild’s description was accurate: thirties, strong facial features with attentive eyes, and shining dark hair that flopped across one eye. Good-looking in a Heathcliff sort of way. As Rouleau watched, the priest reached up absent-mindedly to push the strand of hair to one side, positioning himself on the couch to answer questions. Dressed entirely in black with a white collar as the only touch of colour, he seemed one with the long line of holy brothers who’d gone before him.

  “I met with your sister Sara in Sudbury yesterday,” began Stonechild. Rouleau could see by the resigned expression on his face that Father Vila already knew of her visit. Stonechild had been studying his face, too, but remained unflustered. “What is the name of the girl who accused you of improprieties that the Church believed serious enough to move you to this parish?”


  “I can’t tell you for privacy reasons.”

  “We will find out with or without your help, you must know that. Were her allegations true, Father Vila?”

  Silence. “No.”

  “You appear uncertain.”

  Father Vila closed his eyes. “I was kind to her. She was having trouble at home and my door was always open. She came to believe that we had some kind of relationship.” He opened his eyes and stared into Stonechild’s. “I blame myself for giving her that impression.”

  “How close were you to Rachel Eglan?”

  “She worked with the children downstairs during service. I’d see her sometimes after Mass on my way to my office when I stopped in to see the kids.”

  “Isabelle is very religious. Did Rachel share her mother’s devotion to the Church?”

  Father Vila laughed. “I’m afraid not.” He paused. Let his mouth tighten into a straight line. “Isabelle is devout and wanted Rachel to embrace the Church as she did. She loved her daughter.”

  “Was this difficult for Rachel?”

  “She tried to please her mother.”

  “Did you ever privately counsel Rachel?”

  “You mean see her in my office alone?”

  Stonechild nodded. “Or somewhere else. The location isn’t important as much as you meeting her alone.”

  Vila shifted and Rouleau could see his discomfort. Stonechild said softly, “Now is the time to be honest, Father. We won’t be able to ensure your privacy if you are not open with us now. I know the Church default is secrecy and evasion, but Rachel’s family needs to know why she died … and believe me, we will find out.”

  Father Vila stared into her eyes and must have seen something that worried him. He looked down at his hands folded in his lap. “Rachel was a lamb of God and I am a shepherd. Why would I hurt one of my flock?”

  “Perhaps you loved Rachel.”

  “I loved her as a child of God.”

  “Did this include physical touching?”

  “Do I need a lawyer, Officer Stonechild? Are you accusing me of molesting that poor child?”

  “I’ve accused you of nothing.” Her voice remained calm. “I’m only seeking the truth.”

  Rouleau kept his gaze steady on the priest. A battle appeared to be raging within him. Nobody could feign the pain on his face, the sorrow in his eyes. He opened his mouth. Closed it. Rubbed a hand across his face.

  “You were barely able to carry on during her service. You must have had a strong connection to her.”

  Father Vila pursed his lips together and gave the faintest of nods. “I failed her.”

  “Were you having a relationship with Rachel?” Stonechild’s voice had dropped, seductive with kindness, inviting him to unburden himself.

  His eyes were drawn to Stonechild’s dark, intense gaze as if she held the key to his peace of mind, and he opened his mouth to speak at the same time as the door to his office banged against the wall. Their heads turned. A flustered Ethel had barged into the room. Her face was flushed and her voice was filled with urgency. “Cardinal Croquette is in the chapel. He cannot be kept waiting.”

  Father Vila bowed his head, whatever he was about to reveal put away. He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, officers, but I cannot keep the cardinal waiting. He’s driven from Montreal and has limited time.” He stood and made the sign of the cross. “Go with God,” he said before following Ethel from the room. Stonechild made no effort to stop him.

  “You almost had him,” said Rouleau.

  “I know. He was so close to telling us the truth.” She sighed and stood. “Let’s go to Mountainview Lodge and call in for the results of Thomas Faraday’s autopsy. We can check the case folders to find out if the interviews after his murder provide any new information. As an added incentive, they serve decent coffee that you can drink while we plan our next moves, including another approach to get the good Father to bare his soul.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Shane returned home after he finished serving breakfast and sat reading the newspaper while he waited in the kitchen for Petra to wake up. They hadn’t spoken more than a few words to each other after his search for her on the beach. The search that ended with Stonechild finding Faraday’s body in the lake. He continued to relive the panic of that moment. He needed to confront her about where she’d been that night and get himself out of this downward spiral.

  He’d completed his distracted perusal of the news when Petra finally started moving around in the bedroom. He got up to make a fresh pot of coffee and waited while she showered and dressed. Her slow entry into the kitchen felt like stalling, but he was willing to be patient. This time, he was going to get the truth out of her.

  “There you are, darling,” she said. She walked over and wrapped her arms around his chest from behind, resting her head against his. He closed his eyes and inhaled the light scent of her shampoo.

  She rounded the island and poured two cups of coffee. “Sorry I missed breakfast. How did it go?”

  “Numbers are hardly worth cooking for. I thought you’d be by for supper last night.”

  She stretched so that her white T-shirt showed off the full roundness of her breasts. She smiled at him as she picked up the coffee mugs and crossed to where he sat. She pushed one mug in front of him and sat facing him across the counter. “I planned to eat with you last evening but lost track of time. Did you miss me terribly?”

  “Did you lose track of time the night Thomas Faraday died, too?”

  Her gaze sharpened as she looked him over. Her smile disappeared. “What is it, Shane? Are you accusing me of something nefarious?”

  “Have you been getting it on with Ian Kruger?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Yeah, it matters. I thought we were finally starting to get somewhere with our relationship, but you can’t stay faithful to anyone, can you? All you care about is your next lay.”

  “You’ve never acted jealous before when I sleep with someone else. You know that I’ll always come home to you. I’ve never stopped you from sleeping with other partners as long as we don’t lie about them when asked. I didn’t tell you about Ian because lately I’ve had the feeling that hearing about my trysts upsets you.”

  Weariness filled him. “This way of living isn’t enough anymore.”

  “Being stuck in this bush camp is getting us both down. We’ll get back to normal when we’re in our own apartment in a city somewhere. This summer will become only a bad memory.”

  “I thought if you got your medication straightened out, you’d settle down with me. Have a few kids. Get a house.”

  “You can’t be serious?”

  “I was dreaming. You aren’t capable of having a real family.”

  She squirmed in her seat. “I don’t want to be saddled with kids. You can’t say that I ever lied to you about that.”

  “I know.” He looked into his full cup of coffee cooling in front of him. He didn’t feel as if he could keep any of it down. He lifted his head. “I think we need to separate for a while when we leave here.”

  Her chin jutted out like it did when she was being stubborn. “Okay. If that’s what you want.”

  He thought she’d put up a fight. Her easy acceptance made him even more miserable. Made his decision harder. They’d been together since high school and he’d always looked after her. “You can live with Martha if you need a place to stay. She and Neal are on the rocks, too.”

  Petra scowled. “I guess she hasn’t forgiven him for sleeping with Rachel.”

  Shane took a moment to comprehend her words. “What are you saying?”

  She dipped a finger in her coffee before putting it into her mouth. She chewed on the nail, then slowly dropped her hand to hold on to the mug handle. “I saw them together. They’d go for walks on her afternoon breaks.”

  “A walk is a far cry from sex.”

  “He was getting revenge on Martha for sleeping with me. Classic male ego.” She snorted. “What else would
they be doing alone in the woods?”

  “Did you tell Martha about these sightings?”

  Petra hesitated. She lowered her eyes. “Why would I? I’m not vindictive.”

  He was thinking about living without her and answered distractedly, “No, you’re not.” He fiddled with the mug handle. “I’m sorry, Petra. I know that I’m shifting on you midstream, but I can’t do this anymore.”

  “Don’t worry yourself. I’ll survive.”

  Shane couldn’t tell if the bitterness in her voice came from hurt or anger. He sat silently while she got up and brushed past him. He didn’t make any move to stop her from putting on her jacket and shoes and he didn’t go running after her when he heard the front door slam. There were too many times he’d done just that. His world was falling apart and all he could do was stare into his coffee cup and let the wave of emptiness spread through him like so much dead air. Yet he knew that breaking free of her was his only path toward salvation. The only way to find himself again.

  “I want you to meet all the players,” said Stonechild when she closed her laptop. “We’ll stop at Owen and Isabelle Eglan’s place on our way back to Pine Hollow.”

  Rouleau looked up from his phone. “Great idea. I’ll be better able to help you if I’ve met everyone.”

  Stonechild was standing and putting on her jacket when a man appeared in the doorway. Her entire body went still before she glanced at Rouleau and put her arm into the second sleeve. “I should go speak with this guy,” she said. “Are you okay for a minute?”

  “Sure,” said Rouleau without giving him more than a passing glance. He lowered himself back into the chair and reopened his phone. “Take whatever time you need.”

  Rouleau sensed a tension between Stonechild and this man without either speaking a word. Was he the reason Stonechild seemed further out of reach than she ever had before? A message beeped on his phone and he was glad for the distraction. He opened a text from Gundersund.

  Kala tried to reach me but was working in yard. Tell her all well. Dawn downtown at art studio. Hope case moving along. Sent note to Kala also to be sure one of you gets this. Trouble connecting. Will talk soon.