Plots

by Sky Curtis

  Sandra looked surprised by the question and glanced at her husband. He shook his head. “That huge police officer told us. What was his name, honey?”

  Sandra answered, “Kowalchuk. I didn’t like him much. Officious.”

  Sandra went up in my estimation.

  Harry continued, “Yes, Kowalchuk. When he came to tell us about Darlene’s remains. I don’t know why she was attacked. She always carried bear spray. She knew what to do if a bear charged her. It’s too much for me to fathom.” Harry’s eyes widened in an effort to keep the tears that were swimming around his rims from escaping down his cheeks.

  Sandra wept openly, her sobs punctuating her words. “She was in the woods working. She worked all the time. Overtime. She was such a good person. Even on weekends, she would go out and do her measuring. There was so much to do, you know. She really wanted to do a good job. Such a good girl.”

  There was no way these two had killed their daughter. One by one, my questions were being answered. Darlene was no neophyte in the woods. But where was her bear spray? I didn’t see it near her body. And what about that email from her parents? The one that said only they were allowed to do what Sparling was doing to Darlene? What did they mean by that? Why had Mrs. Gibson, Sandra, written that?

  Like a radar-directed missile, Cindy whizzed out the next question. “What was Sparling doing to Darlene that only her family should be allowed to do?”

  The blood drained from Sandra’s face and her husband clutched her arm tightly. Was Sandra going to faint? “How do you know about that?”

  “Emails.” Cindy was triumphant.

  “But we couldn’t find her computer or her phones. She had two, you know. Work and personal. Both are missing. How do you know about her emails?”

  I stepped between Cindy and the parents. “I found her personal phone, Mrs. Gibson. Yesterday, when you were showing me her room, I found it inside Spooky’s hidden pouch. I’m sorry.” I felt as if I had violated her daughter. I felt terrible.

  “No, don’t apologize, dear. At least it was finally found. But how did you read her emails? Wasn’t her phone password protected?”

  Cindy answered, “No. But what was Sparling doing?”

  “That was just like her, our Darlene, just like her. Trusting the world. I told her to put a password on it. She only laughed at me.”

  So far, they hadn’t answered Cindy’s question. I softened my voice. “You can tell me, Sandra. What was Sparling doing that only her family should do?”

  “He was paying her rent.” She spat out the words like a ball of slimy phlegm.

  I was floored. Really? They were hiding this measly fact? This made them encourage her to charge him with sexual assault? “But why would you encourage her to have him charged for sexual assault? Surely, this was a nice gesture on his part?”

  “I disagree. If he’s paying her rent, what does she owe him? What was he making her do? And we couldn’t come out and say we believed he was abusing her because maybe he wasn’t. She wouldn’t talk about their relationship. We really didn’t know what the story was. So, we had to couch it in normal terms.”

  “Normal terms?” It was hardly “normal” to me. I had interpreted that email to mean that only they were allowed to abuse her. All my ideas supporting their guilt in killing their child were shot down. And if Darlene was working overtime on Saturdays, that would put Sparling in the frame. He was in Huntsville on a Saturday to go to Andrew’s party. I wondered if Cindy had caught the reference to overtime.

  Throughout the conversation Harry had regained his composure. “That’s why we wanted her to come home. If she couldn’t afford Toronto rent, then she should be with us and make her way in a town where she could build a life and become financially independent.”

  Sandra shook off her husband’s arm. “I don’t understand why she hid the phone. I don’t understand why she didn’t give the police all the evidence she had. Was there incriminating evidence in her emails that Sparling was taking advantage of her?”

  Cindy finally stepped back. I felt she was coming to the same conclusion I had. These people were innocent. Odd, but innocent. She spoke softly in a soothing voice. “Sometimes, not all the time, but sometimes, when there is an abuse of power, the abuser seems to have an almost magical power over his victim. Sort of like the Stockholm Syndrome. You’ve heard of that?”

  They both nodded. Sandra said, “Patty Hearst, right? She fell in love with her kidnappers.”

  “Sort of like that. Her kidnappers gave her food and water and she depended upon them for her survival. She was terrified of them because of their power to cause her death, but she interpreted her powerful feelings for her captors as feelings of love in order to survive. If she had acknowledged the powerful emotion she was feeling for what it truly was, fear, she would have to acknowledge her situation, which would have been too terrifying. It would have driven her crazy. It was like that for Darlene. Sparling had power over her. He controlled her job and her housing, and she was dependent upon him. She was deeply frightened of him because of what he could do to her. He could destroy where she lived. He could destroy her job. But like Patty Hearst, she interpreted her fear as love in order to stay sane. He took full advantage of that. I’m sorry to say that he did in fact, use, and abuse, her.”

  Harry Gibson’s eyes looked upwards as he was working it all out. “She hid her phone and the evidence because she was protecting him. She thought she loved him and he loved her.”

  “Exactly,” said Cindy.

  “All this is fine and dandy, but our daughter is still dead.” Harry’s eyes bugged out as anger overcame him. “So, I want to know why you came by here asking all these questions. She was mauled to death by a bear, and yet you’re acting as if there was foul play.” He put his hand on his chest. “Surely you didn’t suspect me. Us.”

  Sandra was strutting around in circles, flapping her arms. She squawked, “Fowl play, fowl play, fowl play.” The woman had lost it. Harry was looking at her in alarm.

  I nudged Cindy. “I think it’s time to go.”

  “Wait,” she whispered, “I want to ask them about Ursula Major.”

  “No, Cindy. It’s time to go. Give these poor people their privacy.”

  “You’re a scaredy-cat. She can deal with a few more questions,” she bickered.

  My snake was hissing in my head. Sandra was winging her arms wildly. Harry was staring at us accusingly. I walked slowly backwards to the car while Sandra flapped and walked in circles. Cindy shook her head once and then gave up, following me reluctantly.

  Behind us, I could hear Sandra laughing her head off. “Oh Harry, don’t you see how funny it is? Fowl play.”

  Cindy snapped her seatbelt on, looked at me, and said, “Chickenshit.” Then she hooted at her joke.

  I was surrounded by hilarity.

  Harry’s reply to his wife seeped through Cindy’s mirth. “It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay.”

  As I reversed the car out from between the two trees, I watched him leading her to the house, patting her shoulder. My heart went out to them. There was probably no greater shock than losing your child the way they had. They were odd, but they did love her.

  Sometimes, Cindy was really harsh.

  26.

  CINDY SETTLED BACK into her seat, a smug smile on her face. She thought she was so amusing. I didn’t like it.

  “Listen Cindy, what happened back there wasn’t funny. Sandra’s heart has been broken and she’s coping the best she can. The last thing I wanted to do was escalate the idea that Darlene had been murdered. That I was casting around for suspects. That she was one of them. That would have been too much for her to bear.”

  Cindy mimicked me, “To bear,” and laughed again. “Get it?”

  It was like being with a six-year-old.

  “Okay, now that we all know what a great sense of hu
mour you have, let’s move forward. I liked your summary of why Darlene hid her personal phone, but still, I’m wondering if she hid it because she was planning to use those emails in her civil suit. She wanted to keep her phone safe.”

  “I doubt it,” said Cindy. “I got to know her a bit during my interview and she was really just an innocent young woman. I don’t think she was conniving like that.”

  “Whatever. We may never know. Anyway, it doesn’t look like Ursula Major had anything to do with Darlene’s death, and I really don’t think her parents did either. Dick Worthington might have anger management issues, but he doesn’t have the smarts to plan such an attack. Plus, he bought a new place to hunt. So, there’s no motive. What do you think?”

  Cindy was rubbing her arms as if she were cold. Maybe joking around was her way of coping with horror. She had been like that in the forest, a professional clown, after discovering the torso. “I agree with you, Robin. I don’t think her parents could have done it. They somehow don’t seem capable of planning something this intricate, although they would have complete access to her bottle of insect repellent. But no motive. That idea has flown the coop.” She chuckled at herself. I pursed my lips.

  “And the Allagash people? They are simply too far removed. They might have the motive, for sure: They don’t want wilderness divvied into plots of land for sale. But there are a lot of people who believe that as well. And besides, the Ursula Major group are too far away. Wrong country, for a start. Maybe there are some people here in Huntsville who hold a strong belief about preserving wilderness, like you and me, but basically the people around here, I’m guessing the cottagers anyway, are more sophisticated than murdering to achieve an end. They’d rather litigate people to death while drinking glasses of white wine. And Worthington is a misguided redneck. So, I agree with you. The parents didn’t do it The environmental group didn’t do it. And Worthington didn’t do it. So, maybe we were wrong. Maybe her death was simple. Maybe the bottle smelled awful because it was simply old. No pheromones. Death by misadventure looks pretty good.”

  “Not really.” I knew the bear had been manipulated. “That leaves Sparling,” I said decisively.

  “Sparling? No way. How do you figure that? He was found innocent. He had no motive. He can’t be retried for the same crime.”

  “I know-w-w.” Did she think I was stupid? “He was supposedly innocent of criminal sexual assault. But, now, we’re looking at a murder. He can be tried for something different. Besides, Darlene could have launched a dynamite lawsuit. Think about it. There was an email trail of their relationship a mile long. I think she had two email accounts, one on her computer, which is missing, and a personal one that was only on her phone. People do that. So that might be why his emails to her never surfaced at his trial. He had to get rid of her before that evidence came to light before the lawsuit. Maybe he caught wind of what she was planning.”

  Cindy looked thoughtful as she checked her makeup in the rear-view mirror. “True. Yeah, you’re right. That would make him nervous. He could lose everything, including his reputation. Assholes with no respect for women and no boundaries don’t stop at just one. If he’s done it once, he’s likely guilty of doing it more often. Other victims of his might be motivated to come forward and press sexual assault charges if he lost a lawsuit. And that would certainly open up a whole new can of worms. He could end up in jail after all. But good luck proving he murdered her.”

  “There could be more evidence to be found. Somewhere.” I knew I was reaching. “Maybe his fingerprints will be on the bottle of insect repellent. Maybe there will be some security film coverage of them in the Swiss Chalet. Maybe it will show him doctoring up the bottle. Maybe there will be some trace evidence of him being in the woods with her. Maybe tire tracks or something by the entrance to the property. Maybe they could match the soil type with what’s on his hiking boots to place him at the scene. Maybe her computer is in his house. Maybe her work phone is there. And maybe that’s where her bear spray is.”

  “Soil trace? That’s pretty clever. How did you think of that?’

  “I saw it on Law and Order. Surely there’ll be some evidence. And there’s always the emails. He was in the neighbourhood, so he had opportunity, right about the time it’s figured she died. He met with her for lunch. They had a plan to walk in the woods. Right where she died.”

  “Kowalchuk closed the case. Remember?”

  “It can be reopened. It’s not like he was tried for murder and found innocent. He was tried for sexual assault. A completely different kettle of fish. Ralph is taking the bug spray bottle to forensics. Who knows what they will find.”

  Cindy’s phone belted out “Jingle Bells.” Really? “Jingle Bells?” It was almost summer. I gave her a look.

  As she was thumbing in her password she said to me, “What? I haven’t had time to change it.” She lifted the phone to her ear. “Hello?… Okay… Right… I think so… Three hours… Thanks for the tip, Doug.” She disconnected and looked at me, “I guess you figured out that I have to go back to Toronto today. That was Doug. There’s been a gang-style execution. Restaurant owner on College Street. I have to cover it.”

  I hated it when her phone rang. Every story she wrote put her close to danger. I hated it almost as much as I hated Ralph’s phone ringing. Ralph. He’d only been gone an hour and I missed him already. But, I didn’t want to leave quite yet. I had a full week booked off with pay. And a gas card. But then there was Ralph. He was probably passing Barrie on the highway right about now. I guess I could cut my week short. Three more days of being in the cottage alone didn’t sound like fun. But I’d have to do laundry and tidy up the place. That would take at least a day. Right, I’d stay one more day. “I’m going to stay another night. But I’ll drive you to the bus.” Cindy hated the bus.

  “What time will you leave tomorrow?”

  So, she was going to negotiate. Well, I wanted her to stay tonight, at least. As lovely as Pair o’ Dice was, I had been thoroughly unsettled by the events of the past few days. A night alone wasn’t that attractive. There wasn’t anything more I could do on the Darlene story here. The bug spray bottle was in the lab in Toronto. Everything was going to be revealed in the city. Besides, I could see Ralph. “I could go in the morning if we rush around cleaning tonight.”

  “Thanks, that might work.” She did a quick google search of the gang hit and then pressed redial. “Hi Doug, I spoke too soon. Robin and I have been working on a story here in Huntsville and I need the rest of today to wrap it up…. Yes. I know it’s good to be on it, but the gang story’s already broken at the other three papers and I’m better at the analysis anyway. It’s not like we’re going to be scooped…. Good idea, no worries, she’s doing a good job. See you tomorrow…. Thanks.”

  “Well, that sounds like you can stay another night. I’m glad. I didn’t really want to stay by myself. Lucky’s great, but he isn’t a scintillating conversationalist.”

  “I was planning on reading.”

  “Bitch.”

  She laughed. “What do you feel like for lunch?”

  “Oh, nothing difficult. I have no idea what’s in the fridge. Maybe a salad?”

  “Great idea. Grilled cheese it is.”

  “Right,” I said, smiling. As I pulled up to the cottage, Lucky came bouncing off the porch to greet us. Lucky was outside? How could that be? I watched him bound over to the car, worry coursing through my veins. “Cindy? Why is Lucky outside? I put him in, didn’t I? Before we left? I’m pretty sure I did. You were playing with him in the yard and I dragged him in. I shut the door behind me firmly. I haven’t lost my mind completely, have I?”

  Cindy was opening her car door. “No. I saw you put him in the cottage. This is giving me the willies. But there’s no car here. Maybe he escaped.”

  I grabbed Lucky’s collar and pulled him back up the porch steps while Cindy followed behind. I immedia
tely saw the back door gaping wide. I knew I had shut it. As I opened the screen door, my heart was rattling around in my chest. Worry about a heart attack zipped across my mind. Then I detected a man’s figure silhouetted in the living-room doorway. My heart thudded even harder in my chest and I signalled for Cindy to stay behind me with my hand. As if I, at five-foot-two, could protect her, at six feet. Lucky was straining to get into the cottage. I called out, “Hi Ralph, we’re back.” I hoped my voice sounded confident. Whoever was in the living room would be tricked into thinking there was a guy around. I hoped.

  The figure loomed closer. I still couldn’t make out his features. My eyes were having trouble adjusting to the comparative gloom from the brightness outside and the man was backlit by the living-room window. I stood as tall as I could while holding on to the dog’s collar.

  “Hi ,Robin. Cindy. Where have you been?”

  I knew that voice. It was Andrew. That dickhead, frightening me like that. “You nearly scared the shit out of me, Andrew. Why didn’t you call? You knew I would be here.”

  “You’ve made such a mess.” He flung his hand wide. “There’s dirt on the kitchen floor and devices scattered everywhere.”

  Pompous asshole. Be kind, Robin. He’s OCD. “The police brought in that dirt. But how did you get here? I didn’t see your car in the driveway.”

  “I came with a client. He’s in town getting some sushi and wine.”

  “Oh, a rich kind of client. La-di-dah.” I was making fun of him. He ignored me.

  “That’s why I left the place pristine. Our retreat was planned weeks ago at my party.”

  “We were talking on the phone a few days ago. You didn’t mention you were coming up. Not that I don’t appreciate all the cleaning you did.”

  “It must have slipped my mind. And I cleaned after the party because theatre people are very sensitive to their surroundings.”

  Theatre people? As far as I knew the only theatre person at his party was Sparling. I was getting a very bad feeling about this. “Oh,” I asked nonchalantly, “who’s with you?”