Tessa saw a man coming over to her.
Telford Reed.
“Who the hell is this lady?” he asked.
“Melanie Pleeke. The wife of the funeral home owner.” Tessa’s heart pounded wildly. Where was her father?
White-clad paramedics stormed in, apparently from another entrance in the front of the arena. They laid Melanie Pleeke on a stretcher. There was no sign of her husband.
A shaken Telford Reed looked at Tessa. “Come with me; we’ll get out the same way the paramedics and the police came in.”
Tessa followed him closely. She ran into Ron Halprin, who at the same moment noticed that Telford was with her.
“Could I talk to you alone for a second?” he asked and pulled her to the side. “I have to show you something. Not now, but this evening. Maybe around seven. I’ll send you a text. Okay?”
“But of course,” she answered.
She turned around, saw Harrison Miller trying to persuade an RCMP officer of something, but she couldn’t hear what. Cindy and Lionel were still in the arena. Cindy was opening a path for her husband through the crowd. With powerful arm movements, she gradually shoved chairs out of the way. Tessa sometimes forgot that beneath Cindy’s fashionable clothes and elaborate makeup there was a former athlete. Cindy could have taken part in the Olympics if she hadn’t suffered such an unfortunate injury. Lionel sat there patiently, his hands on his crutches. His face had lost the freshness and charm that had once made him the most attractive man in Whatou Lake. He acknowledged Tessa’s glance and nodded in her direction.
“They need help,” she called over to Telford.
“I’ll take care of him,” a voice next to her said. Harrison Miller pushed her out of the way. “Your father once again stands out with his absence when he’s most needed.” Tessa bit her tongue. Harrison had already reached Lionel and Cindy.
“Why is he still acting as mayor, when his son was murdered?” Telford remarked as they found the emergency exit. “He should let his deputy take his place for the time being.”
Tessa didn’t answer. What could she have said?
Harrison Miller is not a suspect, but maybe my father is.
On impulse, she turned around. Ron Halprin’s eyes were still focused on her. This time she didn’t look away until a colleague started talking to him.
Telford was already outside. The bright spring light blinded Tessa, although it was already five in the afternoon. She put on her sunglasses again. The parking lot was almost empty, but the ruby-colored Pathfinder was exactly where she had parked it. A few people were still chatting between the cars. A group watched Tessa when a reporter went over to them. Tessa and Telford hid themselves behind a big pickup.
Where had Dana disappeared to?
Telford put his hand on her arm. “Can I drive you somewhere?”
“Thanks a lot, but I came in my parents’ car.”
“Shall I follow behind you until you’re safely home?”
She looked at his worried face. “Do you agree with the police that people in the community are in danger?”
He looked deeply concerned and let go of her arm. “I . . . don’t understand it myself. First they said that there was no danger, and now suddenly . . .” He looked back at the people who were still there, now talking to the reporter. “I wonder who attacked the wife of the funeral director.”
Suddenly Tessa just wanted to leave. “I have no idea. Forgive me, but I have to go now, my parents are waiting for me. We’ll certainly see each other again soon.” She said good-bye and got into the car safely. A terrible thought had crossed her mind, but she pushed it away.
Slowly she drove on the main road through the town. Customers were coming out of the supermarket, and a few were leaving the Royal Bank branch, which had an ATM machine. She saw people waiting on benches in the laundromat. She also saw people in little clusters standing on the sidewalk, talking. The residents of Whatou Lake were trying to stay near one another. It had always been like that. Having other people nearby meant that help, support, and protection were at hand. How would they possibly adjust to the idea that they should be afraid of one another, as the constable suggested at the press conference?
Tessa wanted to turn off on a side road that led to Dana’s house. But she’d already had her father’s car all day. In addition, she wanted to speak with him. She had tried to reach him by cell phone, but nobody had answered. She dialed Dana’s number. Got her voicemail. She asked Dana to call back. The last houses of Whatou Lake were now behind her, and she was completely alone on the road. Suddenly she realized she had forgotten to ask Telford Reed about meeting Fran. The blood-covered Melanie Pleeke had captured her complete attention. She looked at her watch. If she wanted to meet Ron Halprin at seven, she didn’t have much time left.
She concentrated on the road, driving faster. A fresh green color gleamed against the woods and between the brown patches on the fields. The air felt crystal-clear, and in the late-afternoon glow everything looked unusually detailed and sharp. It seemed to her as if the mountains were ready to fall down into the river valley. She turned onto the long driveway to her parents’ house. A coyote dashed in front of the car. She was lucky not to collide with it. An everyday event, but everything seemed different to Tessa. Threatening. Her childhood home still looked the same as it always had, but it was no longer the same house it used to be. It now contained terror and worries, fear and distrust. And secrets.
Her stomach was already in knots before she got to the top of the hill. She parked the car next to Savannah’s Ford Fiesta. Through the windshield, she saw her father coming out the door. He gestured. Tessa understood: He wanted to talk to her alone. She greeted him with a hug. At that moment, she loved her father more than ever. She knew she would do everything to protect him from evil rumors. Silently they went to the cabin in the woods. It was only after he had closed the door behind him that he asked, “What happened to Melanie Pleeke?”
“Didn’t Mom and Savannah tell you?”
“Yes, but I still want to hear it from you.”
“I’ll tell you everything, but first I want to know what the police wanted from you today. Do you need a lawyer, Dad?”
He shook his head. “No, that would send the wrong signal. As long as the police handle me decently, I’ll remain cooperative.”
Tessa sank down into the old stuffed chair. Her father remained standing. She looked in his face, noticed the bags under his eyes, the absent look, his white hair. “What did the RCMP want from you?”
“Sergeant Halprin asked me about Fran’s biological father. It seems that she had been looking for him for some weeks.”
“Do you know who he is?”
“Apparently she had gotten a new tip. In any case, she was out researching it. She had also sent different DNA specimens to a lab in Vancouver.”
“DNA? From whom?”
“I assume from people who could possibly be her relatives.”
“And . . . did she get a positive result?”
“The sergeant wouldn’t tell me. He wanted me to give him any possible information . . . or theories about who her biological father might be.”
“Do you suspect someone?”
“Fran’s birth mother slept with many men; it’s hard to know them all. Many of them were also married, that’s for sure.” He looked at the bookshelf on the wall. “Her mother was promiscuous . . . I’m not judging that. People are created differently. They have different needs. She simply loved sleeping with men. But she still should have taken care of her children.”
Tessa grimaced. Was it possible that Fran had inherited a strong sex drive from her mother? Were there lovers? Maybe she should tell her father about Fran’s meeting with Telford Reed. Her supposed fling with Harrison Miller. The visits from the park ranger.
Don’t wake sleeping dogs. That had been Boyd Shenkar’s advice. She was glad to hear her father’s voice interrupt her thoughts.
“I helped the sergeant as much as I
could. He showed me Fran’s drawings.” So Halprin had found them.
“What does he hope to get out of them?”
“Maybe he hoped I could add something. A tip, a key—what do I know? But they were only flowers. And two or three landscapes. Watercolors. I really didn’t know that she spent so much time drawing and painting.” Kenneth moved around in the little hut like a chained dog. “Now that Fran is dead, I realize how little I actually knew her. Although she lived a long time at our house. Although Martha and I brought her up.”
Tessa sought neutral territory. “You did the best you could, Dad. I can imagine that bringing up children can be very difficult.” She rubbed her fingers together until they got warm. ”What else did Halprin want to know?”
Her father shrugged. “Nothing more.”
“Then why didn't you come to the arena?”
“I wanted to stop by the hospital. I hoped to find something out about Fran’s nosebleeds. Nosebleeds weren’t the only thing; it was also because of her light-blue jacket.”
“The jacket that was found in Whitesand Bay?”
“Yes. Maybe Fran had left the jacket behind in the hospital. She obviously didn’t want to run around with a jacket covered in blood. I found out who was on duty at the reception desk on Monday evening.”
“Who?”
“Lola Dole.”
Tessa stood up. “Lola Dole could have taken that jacket with her and . . . and Hogan Dole found it at Whitesand Bay. The Doles took the jacket to Whitesand Bay!”
“That’s quite possible, but there’s no proof.”
“Why would they do that? Revenge?”
“Probably. The Doles, in any case, have been stirring things up for a long time. They want to erect a big memorial for Jenny, not just a simple wooden cross. I heard that they have something like a shrine in mind, almost a place of pilgrimage. The Sitklat’l won’t have it. Whitesand Bay is a sacred place for them, where many of their ancestors are buried. The Doles can’t do anything at all without the Sitklat’l’s consent.”
Even before Tessa could digest this new piece of information, her father asked: “So what was going on with Melanie Pleeke?”
Tessa had to make a big effort to shift her thoughts from Whitesand Bay to the arena. She described to her father how the ghostly, thin woman looked as she was approaching the police like a ghost. “Her face was covered in blood; it looked like she had been beaten.” She hesitated and then she made the big leap. “You told me once that Fran had been looking at coffins in the funeral home. Apparently she had also met with Melanie Pleeke.”
“Fran has nothing to do with the attack on Melanie Pleeke.”
Attack? What did her father say? So it was an attack?
“I didn’t mean that, I . . .”
Kenneth was suddenly at the door. “We’d better go back. Martha is taking a bath and will be done soon. Savannah is cooking dinner. We shouldn’t make her wait.”
“Savannah is really a big help to you, more than I am,” Tessa answered.
“You help us in other ways, Squirrel. It’s good to have you here; you two are the only ones who have stood by us.”
“Didn’t any of the others contact you?”
“Oh yeah, a couple of them did. Philip spoke on the phone with Martha. People are busy and can’t get away. But Phil wants to come over soon when he can find the time.” He said that without any bitterness.
They met Savannah in the kitchen; she was busy cooking. The aroma of the various dishes floated through the house. Savannah, who had put her hair up, was stirring something in a big pan.
“You’ve come just at the right time. Can somebody convince Mom to get out of the bathtub?”
Kenneth went up the stairs.
Savannah used the opportunity to get something off her chest. “Do you know the latest? The cops visited the high school.”
Tessa raised her eyebrows. “Why?”
“No idea. Maybe your boyfriend Ron Halprin can tell you more if you honor him with your nicest smile.”
Tessa was about to reply sharply. Then she saw a new tattoo on Savannah’s neck.
A big T in a circle.
Tessa grabbed Savannah by the arm and pulled her around. Red sauce spilled on the white stove.
“Why do you have this tattoo?”
Savannah looked at her, shocked. “Which tattoo?”
“Here.” With her finger, she poked Savannah’s neck. “The T in the circle. Exactly like the one on the shack where we found Fran’s body!”
“Tessa, what’s wrong with you?” She heard her father’s voice, but she ignored him.
“Why do you have this tattoo?” she repeated.
Savannah put down the dripping spoon. “What, are you crazy or something?”
Tessa got even louder. “This is the exact symbol that somebody painted on the door of Bob Barker’s shack!”
“What?” Savannah frowned.
“This T in a circle.”
“Man, Tessa, that’s the logo of the Tennigan Dodgers. Our baseball team, for God’s sake.”
“Since when have they had this logo?”
“For a bunch of years. You really don’t know what’s happening here. Now you’re really going bonkers.” She grabbed the spoon. “Because of a harmless tattoo, Christ.”
Kenneth jumped in. “Come on, come on, girls; calm down. We’re all under pressure and—”
Savannah interrupted him: “Everybody around here knows it. Bob Barker is huge a fan of the Dodgers. Tessa should chill, and fast.”
“Why should Tessa chill?” Martha stood at the doorway in an olive-green bathrobe.
Savannah told her everything.
Tessa remained silent. Her mother looked at her worried. “Sweetie, you should try to get a good night’s rest,” she said, trying to calm the waters.
Tessa put her arm around Martha’s waist. “I’ve got to go to the police. Ron Halprin wants to see me again at seven.”
“You’re going to meet the sergeant again? Why?” Her mother’s voice was full of mistrust.
“He told me in the arena that he wants to talk to me.”
“First your Dad, and now you. Just for a change, he ought to go and talk to the Millers.”
“I’m sure he’s already doing that,” Tessa replied.
Savannah put two bowls on the table. “Now sit down and eat. I don’t want to have cooked for nothing.”
And then a small miracle happened: They all began to eat, silently and small portions, but it was a sign of their closeness. A sign of their refusal to give in to the hard fate they had been forced to endure.
After the meal, Tessa thanked Savannah for cooking and put the plates in the dishwasher. She was just about to scrub the big pan when a text message from Ron Halprin came in: Can you come right away?
37
Twenty minutes later she was sitting across from Ron Halprin. This time there was no other officer present, and the door to the room was closed. It felt almost intimate.
How ironic, she thought, that I meet this interesting man under conditions that make it impossible to get to know him better. She noticed that he was wearing a different shirt than he had worn at the event this afternoon. His hair had a wet shine. Had Halprin taken a shower before talking to her?
He looked her over as he pushed a pile of papers off to one side.
To break the silence, she jumped right in. “Did the incident with Melanie Pleeke have anything to do with the murders, Ron?”
“First, could you please read through this document from yesterday and sign it down here?” He handed her a transcript of the interview they’d done at Bob Barker’s property. She took her time reading through everything. Whoever was responsible for this transcript had done good work. She sensed that he was watching her while she went through her answers. She signed, looked up, and didn’t lose a second as she came back immediately to her question: “Is there any connection between the attack on Melanie Pleeke and the murders?”
Halp
rin checked her signature. “Maybe. Did Melanie Pleeke have enemies?”
Tessa leaned back. “I assume that you have investigated her husband. I didn’t see him in the arena. Maybe it’s a case of domestic violence.”
He didn’t seem to believe her theory. “Mrs. Pleeke told us that somebody grabbed her neck from behind, as she was standing by her car, and shoved her face against the window.”
Tessa closed her eyes briefly. That was even worse than she had feared. “How is she doing?”
“Her nose is broken.”
“I guess she didn’t see the guy who did that?”
“No. When she came to her senses, there was nobody around. Who could hate Melanie Pleeke so much?”
“You should know that better than I do, Ron. You’ve already talked to her. What did she have to say when she contacted you?”
“She had recommended a soothsayer to us to help with the investigation.”
Tessa was confused. “That was all?”
“No, she had no use for modern medicine in general and psychiatry in particular, and denied that Fran Miller had ever been at one of her séances to make contact with the deceased. They had only talked about the health benefits of fasting and visualization.”
“And you believe her?”
He didn’t answer the question and continued: “Mrs. Pleeke told us that Fran regularly took pot to alleviate her muscle pain. That this helped her a great deal.”
“And where did she get her pot?” Tessa had hardly raised the question before she knew the answer. “From the park ranger.”
Halprin nodded and looked at her. “Coffee?” he asked.
She declined. “Fran probably suffered from depression even when she was young. I didn’t know that until my mother told me about it yesterday. My parents . . . apparently didn’t want other people to find out about that. Years ago, people didn’t openly talk about mental illness. Fran probably didn’t want it to be known, either.”
“We’re looking carefully at Fran’s medical history.”
Of course. That was something that must be of great interest to the investigators. “So Fran is still a suspect?”
MURDEROUS MORNING: A heart-stopping crime novel with a stunning end. Page 24