Plots

by Sky Curtis

  “Kowalchuk didn’t completely laugh me outta the ballpark when I brought up the idea that Darlene might have been murdered elsewhere. He’s going to ask the coroner about it.” He nodded toward Cindy.

  “I’m sure you know how that will be assessed, being a crime reporter and all. Lividity. Blood pooling. Splatter.”

  Cindy rolled her eyes. “Blah, blah, blah. I can’t bear it.”

  Ralph forced a chuckle. “Good one.”

  It took me a minute to get the joke. Maybe I was dim-witted. But maybe I was distracted by the zing between my nipple and my zippity-do-da.

  Ralph gave me a wink.

  Yeah, the sex was good.

  20.

  I COULD TELL RALPH was distracted by the zing between us and was amazed that he could keep his poker face firmly in place. Hmmm. Poker face. Now there’s a concept. I wouldn’t mind a little poke by the tongue in his face. While I was thinking lewd thoughts, he was chuckling at the dumb bear joke and looking straight at Cindy.

  And I could also tell he didn’t suspect a thing. Could he? Naw. Here I was, holding stolen evidence right in front of his nose and he was completely oblivious. Winking at me. Laughing. So unaware. What a cop he was. Or maybe I was way better at deception than I thought I was. When had I become so devious? And why did it give me such a thrill? I’m sure it was a bad thing to pull the wool over someone’s eyes.

  His breath wafted over me and I wondered how much beer he’d had at lunch. We made a fine pair, drinking away. I didn’t know when I first met him that he drank as much as he did. He probably thought the same about me. This was not good. I would get help from my naturopath to halt my descent into becoming a homeless wino, but would he stop? And what if he didn’t? Would our relationship last? On top of all that, I wasn’t sure how I had become a person who could lie so easily to her boyfriend. This was all new to me and I wasn’t sure I liked it.

  Maybe he wasn’t really my boyfriend. How often did I see him, after all? Three or four times a month? Sure, he’d saved my life, but he was a cop and that’s what cops do. How had the last eight months actually been? Sure, the sex was great, well, better than great, but he didn’t seem to be very, well, very what? What was the word I was looking for? Deep. He wasn’t deep. Not that I needed depth, no, shallow could be fun, but our conversations weren’t holding my interest. Is that why I could lie to him? Because we weren’t really that close? Was he my soulmate? I was edging towards a ‘no’ on that one. Maybe I could lie to anyone now. Was my job more important than my ethics? Than my relationship?

  Funny how fast thoughts can scattershot across a brain, in seconds, and yet everything keeps rolling on around you as if nothing had changed. Here we were, laughing at a dumb joke, standing so close our arms were touching, a little zing zapping between us, and I was thinking about ending the relationship. Was I? Is that what all this was about? I wish he hadn’t said the L-word. I panicked when I remembered that and said the first thing that came to mind. Of course it was about food.

  “What did you have for lunch?”

  Ralph looked at me strangely. Could he guess what I was thinking? Or maybe he was surprised at my about-face in the conversation. What were we talking about, anyway? Oh right, the coroner. Blood splatter. Lividity. No wonder I forgot. No, face it Robin. The drinking is affecting your memory.

  “The burger platter.”

  “I thought you were at the Greek restaurant.”

  “They do a great burger platter. Fries. Coleslaw. A nice fluffy roll. Gravy.” Defensive.

  “No spanakopita? A kebab?”

  “I like the burger platter there. It’s huge.” Irritable.

  “No stuffed grape leaves? Spicy lamb intestines?” I was teasing him.

  “It was a great burger.” He was getting downright prickly.

  Were we fighting? I didn’t want that. I tried to lighten him up. “So, the restaurant is Greekadian?”

  He laughed, relieving the tension. “No, Caneek.”

  “What are you going to do now?” I asked while slipping the phone into my back pocket.

  “I thought that was Cindy’s phone.”

  Oops. Sometimes he didn’t miss a trick. Caught by the cop. I laughed while digging it out. “God forbid that I should be a phone thief right in front of a police officer. What an arresting thought. Hahaha.” I sauntered into the kitchen, my heart fizzing, where Cindy was banging around. “Here Cindy, here’s your phone back.”

  Ralph followed me in. I could feel his body heat right through my clothing. And his beer breath on my neck.

  She backed up, taking her head out of the freezer and nonchalantly received the phone from me and tucked it into her breast pocket. Now here was an expert in chicanery. “Thanks. Do you want mac and cheese for lunch or lasagna alfredo?” She held up two small boxes of frozen entrees, probably left behind by my brother who was many things, including a dipstick, but not a cook.

  “I like both. Which one do you want?”

  She put them in the microwave. “We can split them. And I’ll throw together a salad.”

  “While you two girls are eating lunch, I’m going to check out where the body was found. See what I can see.”

  “Is the little boy going for a walk?” Cindy hated being called a girl.

  Those two really got on each other’s nerves. Maybe I should think about that, how my best friend had trouble with my boyfriend. Another black mark against him. I smoothed the tenseness in the air. “Are you sure you can find the location? Did you want me to come with you?”

  He was dismissive. “It’s along that same trail that you and I hike all the time, isn’t it? The path clearly marked with those orange strips of tape?”

  “Yes, but how will you know when you get there? The body’s been removed.” I was trying to be helpful.

  “I imagine the crime scene tape is still up.” He said it like he was saying, “Duh.”

  Of course it would still be up. “Right. There’s some bug spray on the windowsill.” Still helpful, but my heart hurt a bit.

  Ralph picked it up and read the label. “DEET. Should work.” He sniffed the nozzle. “Disgusting.” Was he blaming me?

  “Yeah, put it on outside, will you?”

  He turned and waved goodbye with the bottle as he moseyed out of the kitchen. “I’ll put the bottle inside the door when I’m done.”

  The microwave dinged as the screen door slammed shut and Cindy put the two pasta dishes on the kitchen counter. A salad appeared out of nowhere and soon we were suctioning up our frozen noodle entrees.

  “So, what do you think?” She asked me with her mouth full.

  “Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

  “Who are you? The Emily Post police?”

  “I think I’m going to break up with him.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re doing the six-month assessment.”

  “Eight months. We’ve been going out since last September. So that’s eight months.”

  “Whatever. He’s a great guy. Despite the fact that I don’t like him. Tall, dark, handsome, smart, big hockey stick. What do you think about what’s on Darlene’s phone?” She pulled it out of her breast pocket and put it on the table between us.

  “I don’t like that I can lie to him so easily.”

  “And so well!”

  “Couples shouldn’t lie to each other.”

  “Oh, Robin, couples lie all the time to each other.”

  I could see lettuce turning into pond scum in her mouth. My stomach lurched.

  “It’s not like you’re lying about something deep. Everyone tells little white lies daily. They make a story better. They add colour. They can be funny. Relax. You’re joining the human race.”

  “Really? But this is important. It’s evidence. The police should have the phone.”

  “They will, but not qui
te yet.”

  I grabbed the phone off the table and pocketed it. “No, now. Right after lunch I’m driving into town and handing this over to Kowalchuk.”

  She lifted a shoulder and gave it a small shrug. “I have no problem with that, but hand it over to me first.” She saw my look of rebellion. “I want to get a few copies of her emails.”

  “I don’t have a printer here.”

  “Screenshots. Only a couple. Three from the mom and three from Sparling.”

  I reluctantly handed the phone back to Cindy and watched as she opened up Darlene’s email and took screenshots of six emails. She then selected the photos from the photo roll and asked me for my email address.

  “You already know it. And why?”

  “I don’t know it by heart, it’s stored in my phone. This is not my phone.” She waggled Darlene’s phone as if to make a point. “I want them to go to you because this is your story.”

  That sounded more ethical than Cindy was. I wondered about her real reason as I gave her my address. If I got caught with this stuff, she wouldn’t get in trouble? Was that it? My phone pinged with the incoming email from Darlene’s phone.

  “Now we have to cover our tracks. I want no email record of what we just did.”

  “What you just did.”

  She ignored me and tapped away. “Okay, I’ve deleted the photos from her camera roll and I’ve deleted the email to you from her sent box. Now I want you to open the email, save the photos to your camera roll and then delete the email that came to you from Darlene’s phone.”

  I did as she asked and then joggled my phone at her. “But I have the photos of her emails. They’re stored in my phone. So, there is a record. “

  “But no email record on either of our phones. They can track emails through the server, but unless you give them your phone to search, they won’t know you have the pictures.”

  I wondered if she was right. Alison could probably track right through this web of deceit. Take remote control of my phone or something. “Why do I need these pictures anyway?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  Now there was an admission. “I should mark on my calendar the day you were flummoxed.”

  “I’m often flummoxed. I just don’t advertise it. Something will come to mind.”

  Blackmail came to my mind. Imagine how much I could get from Sparling, the rich and famous actor, in exchange for these little bombshells. Or her mother. It seems my descent into the underbelly of the world was well on its way. Little goody two-shoes Robin MacFarland was long gone. But blackmail? No, this I’d never do. I wouldn’t break the law I assured myself as I looked at the phone I had stolen in Cindy’s hand. I felt quite light-headed.

  Suddenly, Cindy stood up and zipped up her threadbare hoodie. “Let’s get cracking. We can hand this phone over to Kowalchuk and then check out the Town Hall.”

  “I’d completely forgotten about the Town Hall. Shirley will have a fit that I’m not hot on the story of the murdered land surveyor.” If Darlene was murdered.

  The screen door whapped behind Cindy as she marched out the door. She called over her shoulder, “Mauled to death, not murdered. And that’s not your story. You’re hot on the story of bear safety in the woods.”

  She could believe what she wanted to. That was my cover story. I knew differently. I hurriedly gathered my jacket and raced out the door, following her.

  Geezus. I almost crashed into her. Cindy was slowly backing up the porch steps into the cottage. At the bottom of the stairs was a smallish bear, a two-year-old cub it looked like, that was wrestling with the plastic garbage can, snarling and chewing at the lid. What the hell was going on? This would be the third time a bear had gone crazy.

  Oh God. Where was Ralph? Had he run into this fellow? I speed-dialled his phone. Of course, there was no answer. Had he been killed? No, Robin, calm down, he had gone in the opposite direction, he was simply out of cellphone range.

  The two of us crab-walked backwards up the stairs, careful not to stumble or make too much noise. The screen door squeaked on its hinges as I opened it slowly with one hand behind my back and the bear glanced up from the garbage pail for a second before renewing his attack. What on earth was he after? Once the main door was firmly shut, we stood by its window and watched the cub puncturing the plastic with its sharp teeth and scratching at it with his long claws. We gaped in amazement as he tossed the can over his head as if it were a marshmallow and heard a loud thunk as it landed on the metal-clad porch roof. Then there was a thunderous clatter overhead as it rolled down. And then, suddenly, it was deafeningly quiet.

  The cub stood on its hind legs and sniffed the air. Again, I reminded myself that bears probably couldn’t see worth a damn, but their sense of smell was legendary. His head swivelled this way and that until he beamed in on the garbage can stuck on the roof, lodged between the snow guards and the gutter. He grabbed a porch post with his paws and tried to shimmy up it, his paws slipping and sliding. Oh God, he wanted to climb onto the roof to get the garbage can. We had recently replaced the rotting wooden beams with metal posts, hard-baked with black enamel. I could see shiny white scars on the brand-new post from his hind feet. If Andrew were here, he’d have a fit, already planning the trip to the hardware store to get more Tremclad. But the bear couldn’t get any purchase on the metal posts and threw back his head in frustration. He tried again and again, his nails etching the post, and I prayed that Ralph wasn’t anywhere near the cottage. I kept speed dialing Ralph’s phone repeatedly and finally got an answer.

  Before he said anything, I shouted, “Stay where you are. Do not come home. There’s a crazed bear on the porch.”

  “What? I’m barely out of the woods.”

  “Don’t come home. I’ll try to scare the bear away.” I hung up before he could reply. My heart was banging in my chest. A crazed bear and my boyfriend were in the same yard, with only a cottage between them. Did he have his gun with him? I didn’t think so. I tried to picture him before he left the cottage. Was there a bulge anywhere on him? My mind wandered to his most interesting bulge. Oh God, get a grip Robin. There’s a bear out there. Why do I think about sex when there’s a crisis?

  My heart continued to jump around in my chest. I was going to have a heart attack one day. And where the hell had Cindy gone? What kind of friend deserts you when there’s a catastrophe? I opened the main door and kicked at the screen door frame repeatedly so it would open and shut, open and shut, hoping the slams would cause the bear to run off. It merely looked at me, quizzically. I stopped and banged the main door shut. The bear kept trying to climb the post and then suddenly the garbage can clattered to the ground, its lid still stuck on. I was amazed. Rubbermaid sure knew how to build garbage cans. I should write an article on them. I couldn’t believe I was thinking about the Home and Garden section while a bear was on the loose. Cindy reappeared behind me in the kitchen. Where had she gone?

  “Did you see the look it gave you? He was not amused.”

  “It’s not funny, Cindy. Ralph is out there with the bear. Where did you go? You can’t disappear on me like that. I told you that already. This is serious. We have a big problem.”

  “Here, let’s try this.” She held a fire alarm in her left hand and handed me a rolled-up piece of paper towel. Light it.”

  I ran into the living room, grabbed the matches that we kept by the wood stove, lit the paper, and held the smoking paper towel under the fire alarm while Cindy opened the main door. A high screech slashed through the air, causing the bear to raise its head. On the second screech, it turned on its tail and ambled off into the woods. I dropped the smouldering paper towel into the sink, ran the water to put out the fire, and took a deep breath.

  “Good idea, Cindy,” I gasped. She must have gone to the base of the stairs in the living room to grab the fire alarm.

  And then I speed-dialled Ralph. The coast
was clear.

  21.

  RALPH EDGED TENTATIVELY around the corner of the cottage, looking this way and that, creases of worry bracketing his eyes. He lifted the garbage can that was lying at the base of the stairs and righted it neatly. Everything seemed so quiet, so still, after the chaos of the bear’s frenzy. I opened the cottage door and watched him as he turned around several times to survey the grounds. With his hands on his hips, he scanned the forest surrounding the house. I followed his gaze and searched through the trees as well. Nothing.

  Everything was so silent. Then, a squirrel chattered in a pine tree and a blue jay flew by with a long blade of dry grass dangling from its black beak. Blue jays were a sign of something, but I couldn’t remember what. My brain was so fried. Change? Hope? No, wait, I remembered now. They symbolized clarity and determination. Communication. Assertiveness. Was that the message from nature that I was meant to receive right now? Perhaps in respect to my relationship with Ralph? Or even to my belief that Darlene had been murdered? And did I really believe in this symbolism stuff? I must, at some point, have had some faith in animal totems. I remember having looked up various birds in my past out of curiosity. I remembered that my naturopath had said I needed a new animal totem. I think I needed an eagle to swoop overhead about now, sending me vibrations of power.

  I came out of my thought cocoon and glanced around. Everything had been restored to normal. My eyes rested on the garbage can. I couldn’t believe what had happened to it. And yet there it was, at the bottom of the porch steps, as per usual, looking almost unscathed. What a feat of engineering it was. After being viciously attacked by a bear, it only bore a few puncture wounds and scratches. I really had to talk to Shirley about Rubbermaid products. I wondered if they were an advertiser. Oh my, how my mind wandered. Back to the present. Cindy was shifting from foot to foot beside me.

  “That was a really good idea, Cindy, using the fire alarm.”