by Sky Curtis
Cindy said, “Probably she was working overtime. It’s their busy time of year, before the summer building begins. She probably picked up her clipboard on Saturday. Whatever. The only thing I know for sure is that Darlene is dead. I guess she didn’t measure up.”
She was looking straight ahead. Every now and then, my politically correct friend was very politically incorrect.
22.
THE SUN WAS BEGINNING its slow descent by the time we reached the police station parking lot. We were just a month away from the longest day of the year, so it would be light for several hours yet. But I was hungry, of course. And now that we were in town, we had tons of fast-food outlets at our disposal. As soon as that bloody phone was handed in, maybe we could grab something to eat. My mouth watered as I daydreamed of crispy fries doused in salt and vinegar. Or a hot slice of pizza dripping in cheese. Of crunchy chicken smothered in gravy. Oh wait. Ralph. He was sitting at home waiting for me to arrive with food to cook for dinner. And beer. How easy it was for me to forget. Maybe he was the perfect guy, at least according to Cindy, but maybe I liked being on my own. I nosed into a parking spot between two black-and-white cruisers with O.P.P. stencilled on the side.
I turned to Cindy and held out my hand. “Here, give me the phone.”
“Why?”
“So I can give it to Kowalchuk.”
“But I’m coming in with you.”
“I know that. But I found it and I’m handing it in.” I couldn’t believe we were having this conversation. “Hand it over.” I jutted my hand at her.
Cindy slapped the phone onto my open palm. She didn’t relinquish power with grace.
I stashed the phone in my purse and climbed out of the car, holding on to the door handle for support. I must have hurt my hip when I fainted in the forest yesterday. Cindy didn’t get out. Geezus. Was she sulking? I limped around the front of the car and tapped on her window with my knuckle. “Let’s go.”
I saw her mouth move but couldn’t hear what she was saying behind the dusty glass. She was frowning, her lips tight along her teeth. It sounded like she was talking underwater. I opened the door and the last of her sentence rolled across the parking lot in high volume: “…here.”
“No, come with me. Don’t be so stubborn.”
She put her hands up while looking straight ahead. “That’s okay, I’ll wait.”
Cindy hated not being in charge. She was so sensitive. For her, everything quickly turned into a rejection. No wonder, I guess, considering her husband’s treatment of her. “No, no, I want you to come. I need the support.” I didn’t really, but it would help her feel wanted.
“Oh, all right.” She snapped off her seatbelt and clambered out of the car. No flies on her.
“Thanks,” I said. “I wonder if Kowalchuk will be there.”
“He’s probably sleeping off the huge lunch he had with Ralph.”
Somehow, I doubted that. Although the man was enormous, he was charged with a nimble inner energy. There wasn’t a lazy bone in his body. I replayed in my mind his shooting of the bear. It was so accurate. I wanted that guy on my side, but I’m not sure I liked him. As I stood in front of the doors to the station, I felt a bit light-headed. Perhaps my mind had escaped on the short journey across the parking lot, rendering me a true airhead. I felt giddy. This is how I was before encounters with the police. Guilty as not charged. I fingered the phone in my purse. It was still there. Amazing. At least I hadn’t lost that between the car and the front door. Wonders will never cease. But Ralph was right, wasn’t he? I only found the phone this morning. It wasn’t as if I’d been secreting it away for days. I mentally rehearsed saying, “I came as fast as I could.” Without laughing. This was a line I hoped I would only ever say to Ralph.
We opened the solid metal door into the station and banged smack into a counter that spanned the whole length of the small room. Running along the top of the counter was a yet another Plexiglas window with a cluster of speaker holes drilled into it. I looked at them more closely. They had the same fuzzy edges as the ones in the Town Hall. At least one guy in Huntsville had regular work, drilling holes into Plexiglas. Too bad he wasn’t that good at his job. The only way into the room behind this wall of security was a door to the right that had a small window embedded with wire mesh about eye height. I guessed that the door was locked. The three brass keyholes were my clue. A five-year-old wearing a police uniform sat at the counter and behind him were a dozen or so playmates, all wearing the same costume.
“Can I help you?”
Oh, so the child had learned how to talk. “Sure, thanks. My name is Robin MacFarland and this is my friend, Cynthia Dale. I was wondering if I could see Detective Kowalchuk, or Officer Andrechuk.” I didn’t like the way this kid was looking at Cindy. Had Andrechuk blabbed about their date?
“And the nature of your visit?”
I was wrong. I thought he’d learned how to speak, but he was talking in that foreign tongue reserved for affected assholes, for children who wanted to sound as if they were really, really smart. The nature of your visit, my ass. “We have some evidence to hand in on the Darlene Gibson case.”
The young boy looked up. “Darlene Gibson?” His freckled nose crinkled up as he made a show of thinking. He tilted his head, put a finger on his tongue, and then used it to flip through some pages on his desk until he found what he was looking for. “That case is closed.”
“Um, no, I think there’s more investigation going on.”
His lips formed a compressed line as he read the sheet in front of him, “No, it says right here that the case is over. As of two o’clock today. Kaput. Anything else I can help you with?”
Really? They weren’t going to pursue the case? I was so frustrated. Hadn’t Ralph said Kowalchuk was going to look into the idea that Darlene had been murdered elsewhere and then dumped in the forest? Surely he couldn’t have done that between lunch and two. “Why don’t you ask Detective Kowalchuk to come out for a second?”
He raised his eyebrows apologetically. “I can’t do that without a valid reason.”
This guy had his head up his ass. “I understand totally. Rules and everything. The other reason why I’m … I mean, why we are here is because we have something of his that I’m sure he would like to have.” Cindy was poking me in the back with the hard corner of her purse. “A personal item.”
This fell into the category of “lying on the job.” I was okay with it. Ralph was right. I could lie on the job, but not in my personal life. But sometimes there was an obtuse grey area when the two overlapped, like in my relationship with him.
“Oh, why didn’t you say so? I’ll buzz him right away. Why don’t you wait on the bench by the wall there?”
It wasn’t a question, more like an order. “Thanks.” What was with the police? Why were they so officious and controlling? Was Ralph like that? No, he seemed pretty laid-back. Then, why was I undecided about him? So many questions. Cindy and I arranged ourselves on the metal bench which felt cold through my pants. The quiet hum of a busy office settled over us. We couldn’t see above the counter into the room behind it and I figured they had designed the counter height that way on purpose.
“He’s coming.” I whispered to Cindy, my head gesturing to the door.
“How can you tell?”
“The floor is vibrating. I can feel him walking. In there.” I signalled with my head. “He’s like a tank.”
“I don’t feel anything.” She put her hand on the bench, trying to sense the vibration.
“Ever since I started chanting with my Buddhist group, I am really sensitive to vibrations.”
Cindy snorted. “Or maybe the Robin-bird is listening for a worm.”
“Not all cops are worms. I’m sensitive to vibrations. Really.”
“You’re sensitive to everything.”
“So are you.”
The door opened and the elephant rumbled into the room. “You have something personal of mine? Did I leave something on the table at lunch that Ralph picked up? I don’t seem to be missing anything.” He patted his pockets to reassure himself.
I stood up. Standing with him in the small foyer, there wasn’t a lot of airspace left. “Actually, I thought you should have this,” I said as I was digging in my purse. “It’s Darlene’s phone. I found it in her parent’s house this morning.” I had backed right into the counter, the edge digging into my hip.
His bushy eyebrows shot up to the top of his head. “We were looking for her computer and phone. Where did you find it? It was at her parents? But we searched that cottage from top to bottom. Are you sure it’s hers? Besides, I’ve closed the case. Death by misadventure.” A look of suspicion briefly flicked across his face. “How long have you had this phone? When did you find it?”
I put it into the palm of his outstretched hand. Even the thought of uttering my practiced line made me weak with silliness. I couldn’t laugh. Not right now. “We are sure it’s hers.” I had to be careful here. No laughing. Plus, I had to include my protector, Cindy. She was already in a snit, I could feel her breathing down my neck. “We read some of her emails and looked up her Facebook, that sort of thing, to identify the owner. You know how it is.”
His eyebrows lowered as he looked at the phone, tiny and black in his enormous paw.
“You might want to reopen the case. We came across some pretty compelling motives for someone to kill her.” He towered above me. “We found it this morning and came as fast as we could.” There. I said it. And I didn’t laugh. I didn’t have to tell him how I had entertained the idea of keeping it.
Cindy sidestepped from behind me and went around the man mountain to stand beside him. She was almost his height. Her eyes were wide and a very hot green in the flickering fluorescent lighting. She said, “I mean, we know a bear killed her. But perhaps someone manipulated the bear to attack.”
In one concise sentence, Cindy had solidified the random thoughts that had been floating inside my head. Like little snowflakes they had drifted about on air. And now I had a snowball. Manipulation. Damn, I was such an airhead. Of course! Someone had manipulated the bear to attack. But how?
Kowalchuk laughed in her face. “I don’t really think you can make a bear do anything. Bears are bears. They attack when they want to. And thank heavens it’s not often.”
“We’ve had three bear attacks in the last two months. Surely you must find that unusual.”
“Three?” Kowalchuk gave his barrel head a shake as if to clear out cobwebs while at he same time mocking her.
“First Darlene, then Niemchuk, and then this morning, Robin’s garbage pail.”
He turned his watermelon-sized head to me. “Your garbage pail? Bears attack garbage cans all the time. Especially this time of year. They are very hungry and they want the garbage. What’s so unusual about a bear attacking your garbage can?” He was dismissively shaking his head while sliding Darlene’s phone into his shirt pocket.
“It was empty. It’s been empty since last fall.” I suppose it didn’t matter that he hadn’t put the phone in an evidence bag. Far too many people had touched it already, so there’d be a mess of fingerprints. But still, it was evidence. It should be in a bag.
“Garbage smell lingers.” Kowalchuk wasn’t being abrasive, just stating facts.
“Have you met my brother?” I, on the other hand, was being abrasive.
“What about him?”
“He’s a cleaning fanatic. I bet that garbage pail was completely disinfected last Thanksgiving when we closed up the cottage.”
“Even so.”
I gestured to the phone, only a corner of it visible in Kowalchuk’s pocket. “And there are four distinct murder suspects.”
“Only four?”
Now Kowalchuk was laughing at me.
I decided to fight fire with fire. So much for world peace and Buddhist intention. Fuck that. This man was pissing me off. But I kept my voice flat and laid out the facts. “If you hunt, Detective,” I kept the sarcasm out of my tone as I said his rank, although I secretly hoped some crept in, “through her phone, you’ll discover threats from an animal rights group on her Facebook page. She was also involved in a sexual assault case against David Sparling who lied on the stand in court. The proof of his perjury is in his many emails to her. She was launching a lawsuit against him. Also, someone in her family could have killed her to silence her from exposing his or her sexual abuse. In addition to this, I personally heard Dick Worthington vow to kill someone who threatened his hunting grounds.”
He listened to me with a sneer glued on his face. I had rapidly come to dislike this man, marksman skills aside. “Yeah, right.” He slapped his palms clean, washing them of everything I had said. “Animal rights people don’t kill, the Sparling case is done and dusted, her parents are odd but kind, and Worthington is a drunken blusterer. She was simply killed by a hungry bear.” He chortled a bit and amended his sentence. “A very hungry bear.”
Cindy face had turned slightly pink and a vein throbbed beside her right eye. She entered into the fray. She didn’t like being dismissed. And she really didn’t like the dead being treated with disrespect. It was okay for her to make jokes, but not someone else.
“Scoff all you like, but you’ll be the one looking like a fool if you don’t solve this case properly and leave it to journalists from The Toronto Express to investigate.”
“What? You’re dumb reporters for a useless Toronto rag. You think the media is better than the police?” He said “reporters” like he was saying “dog shit.”
This was a side to Kowalchuk that I hadn’t seen before. He was a bully. I turned my head to see the reaction of the young cop behind the glass partition. He was keeping his head down, although his ears were tipped red. Did he know this honcho was stepping over the line? Was that why he was hiding his eyes? He didn’t want to witness this abuse of power? And how much of the conversation had he actually picked up? We weren’t that far from the communication holes in the Plexiglas. Cindy and my voices had been quite quiet. Kowalchuk’s, on the other hand, was rising with every minute. Why was he getting so riled up? Had he been burned by the media before? I’d google that as soon as I got out of here. After some pizza. Or fries. Fries would be faster. We could get some at the McDonald’s drive-through.
Cindy didn’t let it go. I knew she wouldn’t. The words “letting go” weren’t in her lexicon. “You may think we are run-of-the- mill reporters,” she spat out the word, exactly as Kowalchuk had, “but we are investigative crime journalists. For the largest daily in Canada.”
I had to stop myself from stepping back. Me? An investigative crime journalist? Hahaha. Nice of her to say so, really, but nowhere near the truth. I investigated fire retardants and lampshades. She, on the other hand, investigated gangs, drugs, robberies, fraud. She was brave. Tenacious.
I watched dumbstruck as Kowalchuk put his hand on his holster. I couldn’t believe this was escalating the way it was. He was going to threaten us with violence? “Don’t lie to me. I know this gal.” He removed his hand from his weapon and cocked a finger at me. Perhaps he had been merely resting his hand and not trying to intimidate us. Or perhaps he had been, but removed it because he sensed the young guy behind the Plexiglas had lifted his head and was watching the exchange. “Andrew’s sister is no investigative crime journalist. Gardens are her forte. Flowers. This timid gal falls apart under pressure and we know how fond she is of the bottle.”
Fuck him. Just fuck him. Fuck, fuck, fuck. So, he was going to play dirty. I was enraged. How dare he?
Now two veins were throbbing on Cindy’s face, one beside her eye and the other right down the centre of her forehead. She would not tolerate this, that I knew. But I also knew he had a point. I was fond of the bottle.
Cindy hissed, “This timid gal,” she jerked her thumb at me, imitating his rudeness, “solved those two Everwave murders in Toronto last year, virtually on her own. She was the one who figured out the murder weapon. She was the one who figured out who had used it. She was the one who figured out the motive. So, watch your step, fatso.”
With that, she turned on her heel and marched out. I resorted to my default setting of shrinking violet and followed her for a few steps. But then I held my head up high, despite the snickers and sneers that I could hear from the rookie cops behind the Plexiglas. As if that would protect them from Cindy’s wrath. Or mine. Little did they know. I was a force to be reckoned with. Right, Robin, righto. Whatever you say. But still, I held my head up.
Cindy was right. I did figure out that case last year on my own. Mostly. Her words echoed in my ears as I approached the exit. And then an arrow shot through my heart, deflating the balloon of pride. How did Kowalchuk know I was fond of the bottle? Someone must have told him. Ralph? It must have been Ralph. Would he do that to me? No, Kowalchuk had been at Andrew’s party. Could it have been Andrew? No, I couldn’t imagine Andrew dirtying his own nest. He wouldn’t say that about me. More than all Kowalchuk’s bullying about the case, the fact that he knew I drank too much ate away at my gut like battery acid. No way would I turn around to say goodbye to him. I was so embarrassed I thought my face was going to pop off from the sudden rush of blood to my cheeks.
My mother wouldn’t approve of my bad manners, so in deference to her, I tossed an arm in the air and waved. It took some effort to not give him the finger. I followed Cindy in her wake out into the parking lot and then hurried to keep up with her long stride. Some people could walk so fast. “Hey,” I puffed, “hey, thanks for the support in there. You told him.”
“Pompous, narcissistic, bully, asshole, fuckhead.”
“Oh, tell me how you really feel.” I made light of it, but I felt exactly the same way. What a colossal jerk.
“I wish we hadn’t given him the phone. Did you see him put it in his pocket? No bag? He’s so convinced he’s right he won’t do anything with it. Some people are like that, Robin. They have to be right. But I think he’s wrong. I think you’re on to something, Robin. I really do. That garbage can thing really made me think there is something weird going on. What bear attacks an empty garbage can? There’s a reason why all this has happened. That was a stupid argument about lingering smells. I highly doubt it.”