by Katie Tallo
“He likes you.”
Lois smiles from across the shed.
“Hide and see,” Edgar whispers.
Gus looks at him. She wasn’t sure he could speak.
“Hide and seek?” she corrects. He shakes his head.
“See. See. See.”
Edgar points to his eyes. He pokes at them. Lois shrugs. To illustrate his point, Edgar grabs hold of the model of the house and lifts the top floors off the main floor. They come apart easily, revealing the interior of the house. He places the upper section on the floor at his feet.
Gus peers inside the main floor. A top view of the layout of the house. There’s a front parlor, formal living and dining areas, and an enormous kitchen. The parlor, likely where Kep entertained his guests, is furnished with a garish array of miniature high-back chairs, plush love seats in rich bronze and plum tones. There’s a fireplace with an ornate wood mantel, heavy curtains on the windows, and dark-paneled walls. Despite the attempts to decorate the room in plush grandeur, it’s a gaudy room. Smaller than it should be for a house this size. Gus moves closer to the model. Then she sees why it looks so cramped. Edgar has left too much space between the outside walls of the house and the rooms inside. So much that it looks like there’s a narrow hallway behind the walls of the entire main floor. But without an exit. Wasted space if it’s accurate. Maybe Edgar got the dimensions wrong. Only imagined the walls of Halladay House having this much space behind them. How would he know for sure?
“Hide and see,” Edgar says, pointing to a bookcase in the parlor. Gus has no idea what he’s talking about, but she nods.
Lois leans in to see what Edgar’s pointing at.
“My Edgar has a real eye for detail. Built the entire town from memory. And they called HIM the idiot. Hah. Boy’s a genius, if you ask me.”
“Why so much space behind the walls?”
Lois shrugs.
“Some sort of attic or crawl space, I imagine. Maybe for insulation.”
Gus stands back and admires the model.
“Everything is so perfect.”
“Edgar-perfect,” Lois says, nodding for Gus to follow her. “Let me show you.”
She points to a house on the far side of the table. The other side of the town. They walk over to take a look. It’s a pretty blue bungalow with a white front porch. There’s a lovely willow in the front yard. So large that it shelters the entire house. The willow is a work of art. Its trunk is made of fine brown twine looped around a frame creating branches that look real. Delicate silk fronds cascade from the branches. Not a trace of glue is visible. It’s as if the leafy bows were actually growing from the tree. Lois blows gently and the willow sways like willows do.
“That was our house. Me and Edgar’s. And Gracie’s for a time. Only we didn’t have a weeping willow. Edgar added that. To surround the house. To protect us and our home.”
Gus smiles.
“Edgar-perfect?”
Lois’s eyes glisten. For a long time, the threesome don’t speak. They gaze at the town. Taking in the masterful work of art spread before them. Seeing the perfection and the imperfection in Elgin’s narrow avenues. Streets named for nearby towns and cities. Perth. Kingston. Cornwall. Or after things that mattered. Church. Maple. River. Mill. And, of course, there’s a Halladay Street that crosses Main. There are two churches and one gas station. There are six starlings sitting in a row on a hydro line. But there’s one thing missing. People.
Despite this omission or perhaps because of it, Edgar’s world seems incredibly peaceful. Gus wishes she could see the world the way Edgar does. A world where place and home aren’t so inextricably interwoven with the people who live in them. Where pain and loss reside elsewhere. Where missing someone doesn’t distort the simple beauty of a wide front porch or a weeping willow.
Lois invites Gus to stay for chicken and dumplings. Prepares her a bed on the sofa for the night.
COME MORNING, LOIS AND EDGAR OFFER TO DRIVE GUS TO THE bus terminal in their beat-up orange Volkswagen Beetle. Before getting out of the car, Gus gives Lois Gracie’s diary.
“Belongs with her real family.”
“I can’t imagine how it found its way to you, but I’m grateful it did. Like a gift from the great beyond.”
Lois holds it to her chest. She loved Gracie. Did her best to protect the girl. Shannon tried to do the same, in her own way.
“Do you think my mother killed Kep Halladay?”
Lois rests a hand on Augusta’s arm.
“No, no, no dear. It wasn’t her.”
Gus knows she’s telling the truth. Shannon’s not a murderer.
“You know who did?”
Lois shakes her head. If she does, she’s not saying.
“Hide and see.”
Augusta had forgotten Edgar was in the back seat. He’s poking at his eyes again. Lois looks at her wrist even though she’s not wearing a watch.
“You’ll miss your bus.”
Lois gives Augusta a warm hug.
“Take care of you, Miss Augusta Monet.”
Edgar leans forward and wraps his big arms around both of them. Group hug.
The two of them watch from the car as she boards the bus. Gus waves from the window. Edgar’s in the front seat, waving madly while Lois starts the car and drives away. Gus can picture them stopping for groceries on their way home. Then standing in the kitchen putting them away. Then opening the diary and finding the note she left inside for them. The one wrapped around the bank draft made out to cash for five million dollars.
Dear Lois and Edgar,
Thank you for being so kind to me. I’m happy Gracie’s diary is where it belongs now. This money was also Gracie’s. I think she used it to try to right some of the Halladay wrongs. But I think, like her diary, it belongs with the people who truly loved her and took care of her to the end. Her real family. Money doesn’t right wrongs. I don’t think she knew that. Love is the only thing that can right wrongs.
Yours truly,
Augusta Monet
Gus tries to sleep on the twenty-four-hour bus ride home, but only manages to rest her eyes for a few minutes on the ride to Toronto where she transfers to the eastbound route to Ottawa. No sleep on that bus either. About halfway to Ottawa, Stu sends her a text.
The night before as she lay on Lois’s sofa, she almost called Stu. There were a bunch of missed calls from his number. She’d meant to reach out to him so he wouldn’t worry. But she’d decided it would be better to explain it all face-to-face.
His text is short.
Something bad’s happened. Where are you?
Her heart skips a beat.
On a bus back to Ottawa. Is it Levi?
When do you arrive?
8am today.
I’ll meet you at the terminal.
Tell me what’s happened.
He doesn’t text back.
Stu?
No answer. She tries calling. He doesn’t pick up.
Gus rests her head against the window and watches as green farmland gives way to vast clusters of suburban townhomes. A few hours later when she jumps off the bus in Ottawa and takes one look at Stu’s face, she knows.
Levi’s dead.
41
Levi
STU BLURTS IT OUT LIKE HE’S RIPPING OFF A BAND-AID.
“Levi was poisoned.”
A crushing pain hits Gus square in the chest. Her legs go numb and she almost collapses. How could she have left her sweet dog to die alone? Without her there when he took his last breath. She wants more than anything to go back in time, forget all about Lois and Edgar and the Halladays. She wants her puppy back in her arms. Stu guides her gently by the elbow. Tells her to leave her car behind in the parking lot. He’ll drive. Sitting in the passenger seat of his Grand Am, Gus bites her lip. Finally speaks.
“How?”
“I don’t know. I went to feed him yesterday and he wouldn’t eat. I thought maybe he was just missing you. But a few hours later, he couldn’
t walk. All wobbly like he was drunk. I took him to the vet. They said it was antifreeze. They put him on painkillers and said it’d be best to put him down. Only . . .”
Gus stares at him. “Only what?”
“I couldn’t. He’s not my dog.”
“Levi’s alive?” Elation floods her heart.
“Barely. I thought you’d want to say goodbye.”
“Take me to him.”
“Already heading there.”
Augusta’s mind flip-flops from Rory to Dez, but she can’t blame anyone but herself. A terrible guilt racks her bones. This is her dog. Her mother’s dog. How could she have been so careless? So stupid. Levi trusted her to take care of him and she failed him miserably. She vows to do everything she can to keep him alive. To make up for not loving him when she was a child. For abandoning him. For everything.
At the vet, Gus asks Stu to wait in the car. She needs to do this alone. The front desk receptionist is tapping away on her computer when Gus bursts into the waiting room. Gus lunges at the desk. The young woman acknowledges her presence by holding up one finger. Augusta’s blood boils. She tells the woman her name and Levi’s name. The woman stops typing, and without looking at Gus, she picks up the receiver of a phone, presses an intercom button, mumbles something, then hangs up. The woman has yet to make eye contact with Gus, who is ready to leap over the counter and choke her.
“I need to see my dog.”
“The surgeon is on his way, miss. If you’d like to take a seat.”
Augusta stays put. Bites on the skin around her thumbnail until it bleeds. Finally, a man wearing a blue smock and matching pants comes out from a back hallway. There’s a small bloodstain on the bottom corner of his smock. Gus chokes back the urge to push him out of the way and run down the hall to find Levi.
“Ms. Monet? How are you?”
“Not good.”
He sees she’s in no mood for chitchat.
“If you’ll follow me, we can go see Levi now.”
He motions down the hall. She follows at his heels.
“Pardon the scrubs. I just came out of surgery. Levi’s resting right in here.”
He leads Gus into a small exam room that smells like Javex bleach. Levi is lying on his side on a table with wheels. He’s covered by a paper blanket the same shade of blue as the vet’s scrubs. He’s sleeping. She leans in and touches his sweet golden head. He looks so small. Slowly his eyelids flutter open, glassy pupils rolling into place. Recognition floods his eyes. But he barely moves, save for a tiny wag of his tail and sniff of his nose. She strokes his velvet ears.
“Hey, buddy.”
“He’s not in pain.”
“Can you save him?”
“His liver and kidneys are pretty far gone. Only way to save him would be a transplant operation. I have a donor, but Levi’s too weak right now and frankly, what with his age, I think it’s best to—”
Gus cuts him off. Doesn’t want to hear the words.
“So a transplant it is.”
“Ms. Monet. We’re talking about a very expensive procedure, which he may not survive.”
“Where do I sign?”
“I don’t think you understand. This will be thousands of dollars.”
“I have the money.”
She’s willing to blow the rest of Rose’s cash if it means Levi has a chance. The vet ponders the situation, then turns and searches a cabinet for a form. Asks her to sign in three places and then an assistant wheels Levi from the room. Gus gives her dog one last pet as the gurney rolls out. The vet follows.
“I promise you, we’ll do everything we can.”
At the front desk, the receptionist asks how Gus would like to pay the deposit. Credit or debit. She finally sees her eyes. Pretty girl. About Augusta’s age. The deposit is three hundred dollars. Gus hands over three hundred in twenties from the cash she has on her. The cash she grabbed from the trunk before heading to Thunder Bay. She’ll cover the balance with what’s left in the Buick. Should be close to seven grand.
The clerk hands Augusta a receipt and Levi’s collar. Gus takes the receipt but not the collar.
“You can keep that. He’ll need it for when he’s better.”
The girl stares at her. A second too long. Gus can tell the receptionist is pretty sure this dog’s not getting better.
“Okay, so bring it back then.”
She places the collar on the counter.
“No. You keep it here.”
Gus shoves it away, knowing that if she walks out with Levi’s collar, he’s a goner for sure. The girl narrows her eyes. Tells Gus she can’t hold on to personal items.
“I don’t want it.”
“Shall I dispose of it for you then?”
Gus grabs at the collar angrily, accidentally shoving her fingernail inside a fold in the collar and jamming it on a hard object. The dog tags clink. She winces in pain and shakes off her hand. She picks up the collar and stares at it like she just got bit. She lifts the fold. It’s actually a Velcro flap. Underneath it, a small pocket runs along the inside edge of the collar. Tucked inside the pocket, she finds a slender orange tube about the size of a stick of gum, only thicker and made of plastic. Must be the hard object she jammed her fingernail against. She pulls the tube out of the collar. Examines it. Tugs on it. The outer plastic shell slides back to reveal a metal square. A connector of some kind.
A memory stick.
The past comes rushing toward her like a freight train. She’d forgotten all about Shannon’s camera. And the video Annalee helped her transfer to the memory stick.
“What’s that?”
Gus looks up at the receptionist. She forgot she was there. Gus ignores her. Shoves the stick back inside the pocket of the collar and heads for the door with it.
“You’re welcome.”
Gus doesn’t look back. Her mind is racing. She jumps into the passenger seat of Stu’s car. He’s staring at the steering wheel. Doesn’t want to look at her. Assumes the worst. Gus is breathing heavily.
“I’m sorry. I should have kept Levi with me the whole time. I got called in to the station. I thought he’d just sleep.”
“He’s gonna be okay.”
“Really? That’s awesome.”
Gus puts the collar in her satchel. Stu rubs her shoulder.
“You think maybe it was an accident? He got into a leak under a car or something?”
“He was poisoned on purpose and I can guess by who.”
“Rory? Why hurt your dog? What’s his end game?”
She needs to throw Stu a bone so he doesn’t feel shut out. So he keeps digging.
“Money.”
“What money?”
“Gracie Halladay’s. There’s a list of people she gave her fortune to and I think he has it. I’m on the list so maybe he was trying to get my attention.”
“You got money from Gracie Halladay?”
Stu shakes his head in disbelief. Then it dawns on him.
“It came in that letter she sent you. Why didn’t you tell me, Red?”
Gus ignores the question.
“I need you to see what you can find out from the detectives working the case at the post office in Perth.”
“You mean the guy who lost his fingers?”
“See if they’ve got any leads. Any security footage.”
He raises his eyebrows.
“We gotta turn that money in. It’s evidence.”
“If I did get money, it’s well hidden.”
“You’re bat-shit crazy, Red.”
Gus feels bat-shit crazy. She’s desperate to see what’s on that memory stick. Alone.
“Oh crap, I forgot to grab the paperwork on Levi.”
She sighs. Milking the moment.
“Would you mind? I can’t go back in there.”
Stu nods. Puts on his cop voice.
“We’re not done talking about this.”
Gus smiles and nods like she agrees.
Stu hops out of the car a
nd heads for the veterinarian hospital entrance. As soon as he’s through the doors, she jumps out of the car and hikes herself over the fence at the edge of the parking lot. She runs down an alley, then crosses three blocks before flagging a cab. She directs the driver to the bus terminal where she left Rose’s Buick. In the parking lot, the first thing Gus does is grab the gun from under the driver’s seat and shove it in the zippered pocket inside her satchel. Hidden but close. She’s not taking any more chances. Then she drives to Carlingwood Mall. Her phone buzzes the whole way. Stu is not impressed with being ditched again.
Gus parks in a dark corner of the mall’s covered parking garage. No one’s around. She opens the trunk and tops up her wallet from Rose’s stash. Last time she was here, she remembers seeing a Radio Shack. When she was buying her phone. She finds it. The sales guy is a slim dark-haired young man. He reminds her of Henry Neil. Clean-cut. Wholesome. He’s helpful. Tells her she needs an adapter for the stick, helps her transfer the file from the memory stick onto her phone where he saves it for her. The sales clerk is patient. Doesn’t make her feel like an idiot.
“It’s a .mov file. Basically a video. You can watch it right on your phone. I saved it to your photo library under videos so just click and play. I can show you how if you like.”
“It’s okay. I’ll watch it later. Thanks for the help.”
He gives her back the memory stick, she pays for the adapter, then heads into the busy mall. Gus hasn’t eaten for hours and she’s totally dehydrated. A major head rush forces her to take a seat in the only spot between a man and woman on a hard sofa bench in the middle of the mall concourse. Afternoon shoppers float past in all directions. A preschooler tugs on her mother’s arm. Sweat-panted seniors march in a pack. Two teenage girls giggle as they dig into a greasy box of french fries from the food court. Smells heavenly. A saleswoman sprays perfume in Augusta’s direction. She gags. Nearly passes out. Leans forward. Stares at her phone.
Gus can’t wait any longer. She clicks on the video. Hunches forward and wraps her palms around either side of her phone so no one can see the screen. It loads then begins to play. Just static at first. The audio buzzes loudly. The man on her right flinches and gets up to leave. Gus smiles at the woman on her left and mutes her phone. The woman’s handbag rests lightly against Augusta’s leg. Like her mother’s used to when they sat together on the bus on their way to a movie.