MURDEROUS MORNING: A heart-stopping crime novel with a stunning end.

by Bernadette Calonego

  “Why on earth would she do that?”

  “She wanted us to concentrate on Whitesand Bay. And she also wanted to cause some confusion.”

  “But why the cat collar?”

  He shrugged his broad shoulders. “It came from her boutique. That may have played a role. There are still some questions in this case that we don’t have answers to. And that we may never get. We have done what we could.”

  “I’ve never thanked you, Ron.” She played with her earrings. “For the hard work you and your team did. I’m really thankful to you.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” He kept looking at her as if he anticipated that something else would follow.

  Three sentences had been kicking around all morning in her head, and now she said them: ”You once mentioned to me that it was important to have good people around you. You’re a good person, Ron. I would really like to have you near me. I’d really like that.”

  At first he seemed somewhat confused, like he didn’t know what she meant by that.

  Her heart was beating like a drum, and she was afraid it would burst, until he replied: “I’d like that, too, to have you close to me, Tessa. But we’ve got to let some time go by until this case is closed. I don’t want to give the impression that there’s a conflict of interest. Will you wait for me?”

  “Yes, I’ll wait. And you, Ron?”

  “To tell you the truth, I don’t want to wait that long.” He smiled again. “But you’re worth it to me, Tessa. One hundred percent.”

  When she looked at the expression on his open face, she felt a warm feeling, a hope that one day her life could become good and safe.

  She bent down to the dog again and scratched its ears so that she would not be tempted to take Ron’s hand and put it on her cheek.

  48

  One week later, Tessa sat down in the Terra Breads Café. From here she could see not only the giant sparrows, but also the man she had agreed to meet, who now came striding across the plaza.

  Telford Reed stepped into the café and noticed her at once at her window seat.

  He steered his way between the tables and sat down across from her.

  Without getting a cup of coffee, he began to talk: “I’m so glad that we can finally meet. I really didn’t want to leave Whatou Lake so quickly, but there was an emergency in my company and . . . but I’ve already written that to you.”

  He looked really different without his cowboy hat and cargo pants, Tessa thought. More citified, but also more at ease. She ran her hand through her hair. “So much has happened since you left, I almost can’t keep it all straight.”

  “I can imagine. How was the funeral? Unfortunately I couldn’t make it.”

  She took a deep breath. Promptly, Telford corrected himself: “Actually I didn’t want . . . please excuse me, that was a dumb question.”

  “No, no, just ask whatever you want. Because I also have some questions for you.”

  “That’s what I figured. Because of Fran, right?”

  “Yes, that too. And also because of your talks with the Sitklat’l.”

  “At least in this case, I can give you some good news. I came to an agreement with the Sitklat’l just a few days ago. They are the new owners of the outfitter license. We agreed on a reasonable price. Both parties think that they were treated fairly, something I’m very happy about. In the end it happened very fast.”

  Because she was so relieved, she pressed her hand against her heart. This was a victory for the Sitklat’l and also for Tsaytis Chelin. She saw his face before her, the dark eyes, the serious forehead, the determined mouth, and the strong nose. Later, when the time was right, she would congratulate him.

  “That’s good, that’s really good,” she exclaimed.

  “I’m really happy that we found a solution. We’ll announce the news the day after tomorrow.” Telford cleared his throat. “I’m sure you want to know why I met Fran at the cabin at Beaver Lake.”

  Tessa tensed her arms and legs. “You’ve guessed correctly.”

  “I thought it would only be a matter of time before you found that out.”

  She blinked. “Did you want to keep this meeting with Fran a secret, Telford?”

  “At the beginning, sure. That was what Fran wanted.”

  She looked at him questioningly. He stroked his chin. “It’s best that I let the cat out of the bag. Fran thought that my father was also her biological father. That means . . . ,” he explained quickly, when she couldn’t hide her astonishment, “she was in search of her biological father and had heard rumors that it could have been my dad.”

  Surely that’s not true, Tessa thought, but she wanted to first hear the whole story.

  “She asked me for a saliva sample for a DNA test. I thought, why not? Then you could cross out that possibility.”

  “You agreed?” Tessa asked, even more surprised. Her opinion of Telford Reed was changing constantly. Who was this man?

  He shrugged. “Why not? I was certain that there was nothing to it, but Fran seemed possessed. If I had been in her place, I might have felt the same.” His fingers drummed on the table.

  Tessa took a sip from her coffee before she urged him to keep talking. “What happened?”

  “The result must have disappointed Fran. The DNA did not confirm her suspicions. My father cannot be her father. I already knew that without the test. I had known for a long time that Eric Reed was not my biological father.” He looked at the table and then looked at Tessa, who was concentrating on her coffee cup. Had she heard right?

  “One of my aunts told me that my mother, before she got married, was a pretty wild card. That she was sleeping with two different men who didn’t know about each other. And that Mom, shortly before her marriage, was unsure which one she should choose. Her parents pressed her to marry the man with the most money. Which she did.” Telford pressed his lips together before he continued speaking: “I have a very unusual genetic abnormality. It’s a dominant gene, which means that all the children in my family have it. I only found out when I was a young adult.”

  I know that from my own experience, Tessa wanted to throw in. I have a genetic abnormality, too, that I share with my father. But Telford was quicker.

  “Eric Reed didn’t have this abnormality. Neither does my mother. My deceased sister also didn’t have it. And none of my relatives. Only me.”

  He sat up and stretched in order to relax. “And my biological father, of course.”

  Tessa sat as if she were glued to her chair.

  “Telford, I . . . I just don’t know what to say, I . . .”

  He quickly apologized. “I didn’t want to put you though this; actually I only came to explain why Fran and I met. It’s a terrible shame that during her lifetime she was never able to find out who her biological father was.” He rubbed his face, which suddenly seemed flushed, and looked at the counter. “I think I need a big mug of black coffee.” He looked at her cup. “Can I bring you another one?”

  Tessa didn’t answer. She stared at him as if he were a ghost. From a remote part of her brain, a thought broke loose and came to her.

  “What is your genetic abnormality, Telford?”

  He hesitated, seemingly a bit embarrassed. She asked again, persistent: “Which genetic abnormality did you inherit from your biological father?”

  Without saying a word, he pushed the chair back and loosened the Velcro of his running shoes.

  Tessa already knew what she was going to see.

  A foot with six toes.

  Epilogue

  The grizzly is unsettled. Too many strangers coming into her territory.

  So much noise. The terrifying droning in the sky.

  Then the droning on the ground.

  The animals she would be hunting are fleeing because of the noise.

  It makes hunting much more difficult.

  Only at night it is quiet.

  The bear keeps on walking, down to the lake. She used to find dead fish on the shore. She n
ever forgets a place where she’s found something to eat. It’s burned into her brain.

  On the way to the lake, she goes by the cabin.

  Interesting smells reach her nostrils.

  She climbs up the wooden stairs. Follows the scent. She scratches and paws at the door with her powerful claws. Presses her two-hundred-kilo body against the obstacle. Pushes until the door gives in.

  Suddenly she’s inside; here the smell is even stronger.

  After that it’s easy. She reaches out and grabs hold of a plastic bag. Sweet white sand runs down onto the ground and she licks it up.

  Then she bites open a tin and eats the cookies. The can with condensed milk is next. Crisp crackers and peanut butter.

  She demolishes everything in the search for tasty snacks.

  A successful night.

  Toward morning the noise starts up again.

  She grabs hold of something that smells like animal skin and drags it into the sheltered forest.

  Then she chews on it. It’s tough, but it smells really interesting.

  Her claws rip open the pages of a sketchbook that has both writing and drawings in it.

  Shreds of paper swirl around in the air.

  Cover the damp ground.

  They contain Fran’s words, which nobody will ever read.

  Acknowledgments

  My first thanks go to my second homeland, Canada. This wonderful, huge, and, to a great extent, still-wild country keeps on inspiring me and my books.

  I love locations that are quintessential Canada for me: wilderness, immense forests, powerful mountain ranges, waterfalls, rivers, swamps and pristine lakes, the Arctic, and rugged coasts—raw, primeval regions where nature puts human intruders in their place, and where one feels equally insignificant and in awe.

  Twenty years ago, when I emigrated from Switzerland to Canada, I settled in the province of British Columbia. To this day, I am filled with joy and wonder that Canada welcomed me with open arms.

  I would like to thank the indigenous citizens of Canada for the opportunity to live and work in their country, on land that once was occupied only by them. The name of the First Nation in my book, Sitklat’l, is fictional, and the community of Whatou Lake and all the other locations in the area exist only in my imagination.

  But it is a fact that numerous indigenous communities offer interesting destinations and adventures for tourists. One can find a trove of information on the website www.indigenoustourism.ca.

  Fortunately, the province of British Columbia outlawed grizzly trophy hunting in 2017. Exempt are the First Nations, who are allowed to hunt grizzlies for meat or traditional ceremonies. There are an estimated fifteen thousand grizzlies in British Columbia. Before the hunting ban, every year about 250 grizzlies were killed as trophies. My thanks go to the government of British Columbia, which is now protecting these beautiful animals.

  I owe my deepest thanks to my beta readers who examined the German manuscript of Murderous Morning thoroughly. Their notes and constructive critique almost always hit the mark and helped me to improve and polish this story. Helen Radu, Christa Mutter, Susanne Keller, Ruth Omlin, Beny Affolter, Peter Stenberg, Gisela and Koni Dalvit, Oswald Abersbach, Irene Zortea, Hans Kurth, Klaus Uhr, and Gerald Chapple—I cannot say loudly enough how much I appreciate your contribution.

  I am fortunate to have an editor like Gisa Marehn, who already has worked with me on four books. I admire her precision, eloquence, and aplomb.

  I am also grateful for the help of my fellow authors Heike Fröhling, Alec Peche, Kelly Oliver, Anne Cleeland, and my brother Peter.

  The English edition of this book would not exist without Rosa and Peter Stenberg, who translated Murderous Morning from German into English. It was a monumental task that they accomplished with enormous skill and admirable perseverance. Rosa and Peter are a gift from heaven. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

  My American editor Lindsey Alexander, who had already worked on my novel The Stranger on the Ice, once again did an excellent job making the language and flow of this story smooth and luminous while guiding me expertly through it all. I am very impressed and equally thankful. Last but not least I would like to thank the proofreaders Constanza Low, Paula Dunn, Cheryl McCarron, Cheryl Shoji and Michele Hodder who took a close look at the novel before it got published and who pointed out mistakes and typos. You cannot imagine how important you are in this entire process! I’d also like to mention all the people who support my work lovingly and unswervingly. Your input motivates me to keep on writing, even after eight books. The next crime scene: Newfoundland and Labrador!

  Bernadette Calonego

  P.S. Sharing my stories with you, my reader, is such a wonderful experience. I would love to hear from you, either on Facebook, Instagram, or through email (you will find the address on my website: www.bernadettecalonego.com). If you’d also like to leave feedback for your fellow readers (and for me, of course), a review on Amazon, Goodreads, or another platform would be such a treat! It doesn’t have to be long. Even one or two sentences will help readers find my book and will encourage me to keep on writing. I’m very much looking forward to seeing and savoring your thoughts and opinions. Thank you!

  About the Author

  Bernadette Calonego was born in Switzerland and grew up on the shores of Lake Lucerne. She was just eleven years old when she published her first story, in a Swiss newspaper. She went on to earn a teaching degree from the University of Fribourg, which she put to good use in England and Switzerland before switching gears to become a journalist. After several years working with the Reuters news agency and a series of German-language newspapers, she moved to Canada and began writing fiction. Murderous Morning is her eighth book and her fifth novel in English. As a foreign correspondent, she has published stories in Vogue, GEO, and SZ-Magazin. She splits her time between Vancouver, British Columbia, and Newfoundland.

  For more information, visit www.bernadettecalonego.com.

  Facebook: www.facebook.com/BernadetteCalonego.Author

  Instagram: @bernadettecalonegoauthor and

  @bernadettecalonegobooks

  Also By Bernadette Calonego

  The Zurich Conspiracy

  Under Dark Waters

  Stormy Cove

  The Stranger on the Ice

  About the Translators

  Peter Stenberg was Head of the Department of Central, Eastern, and Northern European Studies at the University of British Columbia for ten years. His books include Journey to Oblivion and Contemporary Jewish Writing in Sweden, for which he received yearlong fellowships from the Humboldt Foundation and the Swedish Institute. He has translated many works from German and Swedish, the latest being Edgar Hilsenrath’s New York novel, Fuck America (2019).

  Rosa Stenberg is the wife of Peter Stenberg. She studied German in high school and university, and her knowledge of the language improved greatly as she accompanied Peter on many sabbaticals in Munich. With their son, Josh, a Senior Lecturer in Chinese Studies at the University of Sydney in Australia, she came up with many suggestions for the best wordings of tricky parts of this translation.