An Image in the Lake: A Joanne Kilbourn Mystery

by Gail Bowen

  Pete’s expression changed rapidly from confusion to disgust. “That’s unbelievable. Clay loses out on a prize, so he attacks the mother of the guy who won.”

  “That does strain credulity,” Zack said. “But it seems to be the case. Clay’s grandmother paid a call on your mother the day after the picnic. She said Clay had suffered a disappointment and ‘acted out.’ We didn’t learn what the disappointment was until yesterday.”

  Maisie turned to Pete. “Do you think it’s possible Clay Fairbairn is connected somehow with the weird questions that have been cropping up in Alison’s Q&As?”

  “Given what we’ve just heard about how Clay’s mind works, I guess it’s conceivable,” Pete said. He turned to Zack and me. “In the past week, during the Q&As after Alison’s speeches, someone has asked a series of identical questions. They all centre on Alison’s decision not to terminate her pregnancy when she was sixteen. The questions posed by that caller to Quinlan Live this morning followed the pattern.”

  I felt a lash of unease. “If the questions are always the same, they must be coming from a single source. Jill said the official announcement about the Lee Gowan Award will be made at a gala brunch tomorrow in Toronto. Seeing Harper publicly honoured will be another blow for Clay. He might be making a pre-emptive strike by attempting to get under Alison’s skin.”

  Maisie ran her fingers through her thick springy curls. “Alison’s strong, but she’s not bulletproof, and she is vulnerable through Harper. Alison’s told him that his father never knew about her pregnancy, and that when he moved away at the end of the school year, she thought making a clean break with him was best for everyone.”

  “The truth, but not the whole truth,” Zack said. “I imagine Harper has always just assumed that his father was a student. But with their opening salvo, the questioners let Ali know they have intimate knowledge of her history. Maisie, how many times has this happened?”

  “Five counting this morning,” Maisie said. “The first time was at an open forum at the university and the questions have been posed at every event since.”

  Zack narrowed his eyes. “Do the questioners come from a specific demographic?”

  “Alison says it’s hard to tell. She thinks they’re all male, but she’s not even sure of that. They all wore sunglasses, jeans and ball caps, visors forward so their faces were partially obscured.”

  “Jeans, sunglasses and ball caps are pretty much the go-to outfit for eighty percent of our city’s population,” I said. “Was there anything distinguishing about their voices?”

  “Yes,” Maisie said. “And here’s the zinger. They all spoke slowly and precisely as if they were working from a script and had been coached about how to say their lines.”

  “So, a single source is providing them with questions that put Ali’s past right out there,” I said.

  Zack scowled. “And throwing her off her game by forcing her to wonder how much else they know. When’s Alison’s next speech?”

  “Tonight,” Maisie said. “It’s at a symposium on women’s rights. I’m planning to go, and I’ll have my phone at the ready.”

  “Good,” Zack said. “When the abortion question comes up, have Alison ask the questioner to meet her privately after the session to discuss the issue further.”

  “Do you think the questioner will show up later?” I said.

  “Not a chance,” Zack said. “My guess is that as soon as Alison challenges the questioner to meet her privately, they will beat a hasty retreat.”

  Maisie smiled. “And I will follow whoever it is out of the venue and ask them to choose a time and place where Alison can discuss the matter one-on-one. And I’ll take their picture.”

  “No flies on you,” Zack said. “Being followed will spook them, and having their picture taken will knock them off base. While they’re squirming, move in close and see what you can get out of them.”

  Maisie’s gold-flecked eyes were sparkling. “I am so looking forward to this.”

  Zack grinned. “Yeah, it’s always fun when you get a chance to play by the other guy’s rules.”

  * * *

  As soon as we got back from Pete and Maisie’s, I called Jill. “There’s something weird going on in Alison’s campaign. Have you got time to talk?”

  Jill’s voice was strained. “Not really. Can you run the highlights by me and fill me in later?”

  “Of course.”

  I gave Jill the condensed version of what we’d learned about the oddly staged questioning at Ali’s recent events and about Maisie’s plan of attack for Ali’s next Q&A. When Jill didn’t respond, and the silence between us became awkward, I said, “So what do you think?”

  Jill was clearly preoccupied. “I’m not sure. Jo, can we discuss this later? There’s something I need to talk to you about, but I don’t want to do it here at the office. I’m just on my way out to a meeting. It shouldn’t last more than an hour. Would it be all right if I dropped by your house later?”

  * * *

  It was close to one thirty when Jill arrived. Zack and I had eaten our share of pizza at Pete and Maisie’s, so neither of us was hungry, but I wanted Jill to feel welcome. So I’d taken a tray with Boursin au poivre, a bowl of B.C. cherries and a baguette to the back patio, and Zack had opened a bottle of Riesling. When Jill arrived, I led her to the patio where Zack was already pouring the wine.

  No one suggested a toast, so Jill set her laptop on the table, opened it, took a large sip of her drink, thanked us for our hospitality and plunged in. “Two hours ago, I received a text with a link to a video that the writer of the text noted was ‘of interest.’ I went to the link and watched a video of Vale Frazier having intercourse with Etienne Simard.” Jill’s tawny eyes met mine. “I know that your daughter and Vale Frazier are in a relationship, and I thought if Taylor wasn’t already aware of the video, she should know that it’s online. Do you want me to bring up the link?”

  Zack’s jaw tightened, and he turned to me. “Jo?”

  “You always say it’s better to know than not know. We should see what our daughter’s going to see. Jill, if you wouldn’t mind . . .”

  Jill nodded, and the screen filled with images of the young woman we had come to think of as a daughter having sex with the actor I’d been introduced to at the wrap party for Sisters and Strangers the previous November. I had been charmed by Etienne Simard, as three generations of Quebec women had been charmed. He was not much taller than me — probably around five nine, actor fit, very slim, with carefully tousled silver hair, knowing grey eyes and uncommonly expressive features. Identifying the source of his compelling charm was difficult, but the charisma was definitely there.

  By a circumstance none of us could have foreseen, I had become involved in writing the script for Sisters and Strangers. Unravelling the intertwined fates of the Ellard and Love families had been an essential but painful exercise. Digging up facts that had been hidden in obscurity for years had revealed ugly truths about the forces that shaped me. After one particularly gruelling writing session, I told Zack I felt flayed, as if I was watching my own autopsy. The day the script was locked, I walked away from the production studios, grateful for what I had learned and relieved that my excavation of the past was over.

  Except for Vale and Rosamond Burke, the renowned British actor whom I had come to like and respect when she was filming in Regina a year earlier, I knew the principals in the cast of Sisters and Strangers only in passing. The producer had sent me headshots and résumés of the actors being cast, but still raw from my experience co-writing the script, I simply glanced at them and slid them back in the envelopes in which they’d arrived. I’d questioned none of the casting choices except that of Etienne Simard for the role of Izaak Levin. Simard’s easy charm and whimsically flirtatious smile seemed wrong for the man I’d known as a young girl, and connected with again when Sally and I reunited in the months before her
death and his.

  By the age of thirty, Izaak Levin had established himself as one of the most influential visual art critics of the mid-twentieth century. Much sought after as a speaker and lecturer, he too seemed destined for a charmed future, but when Nina Love handed over her fifteen-year-old daughter to him, Izaak Levin’s fate was tragically altered. Sally became his reason for being and, until the day he died, his life was driven by the dark disruptive power of his love for her.

  Etienne Simard, a man who, seemingly without effort, caused hearts to flutter and sailed through life with the wind at his back seemed a poor choice for the role of Izaak, but I misjudged Simard’s gifts as an actor.

  I had always believed that the relationship between Izaak and Sally was symbiotic, but until I saw the scenes between Etienne and Vale, I had never understood that the unbreakable bond between Sally and Isaak was fuelled by the simplest of human emotions: need and love. Over the years the needs changed as did their casual sexual liaisons, but Izaak and Sally’s love remained constant and undiminished.

  The soul-baring physical and emotional intimacy in the scenes between Vale and Etienne was powerful, and as we watched, Zack covered my hand with his. His face was impassive, but the vein in his neck was pulsing rhythmically. As soon as the video ended, Zack picked up his phone. “I’m calling Taylor,” he said. Jill turned off her laptop, and we waited. “Straight to voicemail,” Zack said finally.

  “This isn’t what we thought it was at first,” I said. “It’s an outtake of a scene the director, Ainsley Blair, discarded because she felt it made the character Vale is playing seem unsympathetic. The other writer and I disagreed with Ainsley’s decision.”

  Jill was shocked. “Why would you disagree? I never knew Sally Love, but she was fifteen years old. Her relationship with Levin was not only illegal; it was immoral.”

  “Towards the end of her life, Sally talked a great deal about her relationship with Izaak,” I said. “Sally was always clear on one point: she initiated the sexual relationship with him. She was not the victim; she was the instigator. I supported including the scene we just watched because it shows how desperately Sally needed Izaak. He was the only protection she had against Nina, and Sally used the most powerful weapon she had to make Izaak let her stay.”

  Jill slumped. “Her sexuality. What a world we live in. Ainsley Blair was wrong. That scene was an essential part of Sally’s story.”

  “Fair enough,” Zack said. “But how the hell did it end up online?”

  “I don’t know,” Jill said. “Sisters and Strangers is the flagship for MediaNation’s new drama programming. That should have been kept under lock and key, but we live in the digital age. Piracy’s easy.”

  Zack rubbed the bridge of his nose, always a sign that he was perplexed. “So we’re back at the old legal question: cui bono? Who profits?”

  “That video’s already gone viral. Some enterprising publicist at MediaNation may have decided it was a way to get the drums beating before Sisters and Strangers premieres.”

  Jill’s headshake was vehement. “Hugh Fairbairn would never consent to a stunt like that.”

  “Would he have seen the outtake?” Zack said.

  Jill nodded. “From what I heard, Hugh was very hands-on about Sisters and Strangers. If there was a dispute between the director and the writers about the impact of the scene between Sally and Izaak, I’m certain Hugh would have watched both versions and weighed in.”

  “So, we’re back to square one,” Zack said.

  At that point, my phone rang. I glanced at caller ID. “It’s Taylor.”

  Jill smeared Boursin on a piece of baguette, popped three cherries on top and finished her wine. “Lunch,” she said. “I can let myself out. Jo, when the dust clears we can talk about what’s going on with Ali’s campaign. Meanwhile, call if there’s anything I can help with.”

  Zack touched her arm. “Thanks for coming over.”

  I answered my phone, and when I greeted our daughter, I amazed myself by sounding close to normal.

  “Just checking in,” Taylor said.

  “Your dad’s here,” I said. “Okay if I put you on speakerphone?”

  Taylor laughed. “That goes without saying. How are you doing, Dad?”

  “Couldn’t be better now that I’m talking to you.”

  “Same here,” Taylor said. “Any news about Mieka and the baby?”

  “Still waiting,” I said.

  “I’m so excited about that little guy,” Taylor said. “So what’s going on with you two?”

  Zack looked at me questioningly, and I nodded. “Taylor, we can talk about that later, but there’s something else we need to discuss,” Zack said. “It concerns Vale.”

  Taylor didn’t respond. As the silence between our daughter and us lengthened, the anxiety in Zack’s eyes mirrored my own. When she finally spoke, Taylor’s voice was small and strained. “If it’s about the video of Vale with Etienne Simard, I’ve already seen it.”

  “You do realize it’s an outtake of a scene Ainsley Blair decided to cut.”

  “Yes,” Taylor said. “Vale and I talked about whether or not Ainsley should use that scene. Sally was my birth mother, so at least I was useful to Vale for information like that.”

  Taylor’s comment was harsh, and I didn’t follow up on it. I tried to move along. “Since we’ve established that the video is just an outtake, I guess we should focus on the real question. Taylor, do you have any idea about who might have posted it?”

  “Someone who wants to hurt me,” Taylor said.

  My stomach clenched. “Taylor, has the video going viral affected your relationship with Vale?”

  Our daughter’s laugh was uncharacteristically bitter. “Oh, it affected it,” she said. “Big time. She and I are finished. You were right about the video being an outtake, but Vale and Etienne Simard did have an affair. It started when Sisters and Strangers was shooting in Regina.” Taylor’s voice was shaking. “Vale and I were starting our life together in our new home. I thought we were two people who loved each other enough to make a commitment.”

  A blow to Taylor was a blow to Zack, and his face crumpled. “Taylor, why don’t you come home for a few days?” he said. “Give yourself some time to breathe and think things through.”

  “I’m way ahead of you, Dad,” she said. “I was calling to tell you that I flew in yesterday, Gracie Falconer picked me up at the airport and we came straight to Lawyers Bay. I wanted to let you know that I’m all right.”

  “Are you?” Zack said.

  “Not yet,” Taylor said. “But I will be. Last night, I curled up in my old bed with my cats, and we all had a good night’s sleep.”

  “You brought the cats back with you?” I said.

  “Yes, I wanted them with me. Jo, I’m not here to process what happened, I know what happened, and Vale and I are no longer a couple. Saying that is hard, but it’s the truth.” She paused, and when she continued, she tried for a light note. “As Dad always says, the only thing worse than knowing is not knowing.”

  Zack and I both flinched. I swallowed hard. “He’s right about that,” I said. “Taylor, you know that if your father and I could carry this pain for you, we would.”

  “I know that, and I’m grateful. And when I go into Eeyore mode as Gracie calls it, she reminds me of how much I have to be grateful for, and it’s a lot.”

  “You do have a lot to be grateful for. We all do. I’m so glad Gracie’s there with you. Taylor, your dad and I were planning to drive to Lawyers Bay tomorrow morning, but if you need us now, we can be there in an hour.”

  “No. I want you to come, just not yet. Everything happened so quickly. I’m not second-guessing my decision. I just need time to regroup. Could you come tomorrow after lunch?”

  “Tomorrow after lunch will be fine,” Zack said. “Taylor, we love you so much.”r />
  “I love you too, but I’m going to hang up now because if I start blubbering, you’ll be so worried about me, you won’t sleep, and I’ll be so worried about you being worried, I won’t sleep either. See you tomorrow, and could you please stop by Pawsitively Purrfect on your way? I forgot to bring cat food. My guys like the canned tuna we have, but it’s not all that great for them.”

  “Your mum and I are on it, Taylor. Tell Bruce, Benny and Bob Marley that all will be well.”

  “They’re cats, Dad, and cats are born knowing all will be well.” Taylor laughed softly. “I’m starting to believe they’re right. This morning, after breakfast, Gracie and I walked around the shoreline, checking the inuksuit that she and Isobel and I built a hundred years ago. Every stone was still in place, exactly where we put it. I’m exactly where I should be too.”

  When Taylor broke the connection, Zack moved his chair close to me. “How are you doing?”

  “I feel as if I’ve been body-slammed.”

  “So do I, and Jo, it’s not just that our daughter’s had her heart broken. That’s bad enough, but what happened with that footage is another loose end. From what Jill said, the production company would have kept that video secure.”

  “She also pointed out that we live in a technological age, and that piracy is not unheard of.”

  “But who’s the pirate? Corporate espionage is a possibility, but not a likely one. A rival network or streaming service would have had nothing to gain by posting that video. The public’s appetite for prurience is insatiable, and that outtake will draw an audience to Sisters and Strangers. I think the targeting is personal. When we asked Taylor who she thought posted the video, she said ‘someone who wanted to hurt me.’”

  “Zack, I know we’re biased because we’re Taylor’s parents, but she’s never been a person who made enemies. High school is a landmine for many girls — cliques, rivalries, rumours, jealousies — but Taylor never elicited animosity. I know lawyers believe the question cui bono is key in determining who might have committed a crime, but I can’t think of anyone who would have had something to gain from hurting our daughter.”