“You have a lot of faith in our judicial system,” said Jean.
“What bothers me more,” Riley continued, “is that the killers might come after us.”
“But why?” asked Jean.
“Dunno. Maybe I’m just scared.”
“Well don’t be,” said Paul. “Remember, there’s an island-wide manhunt going on. If whoever did it has any sense at all, they’ll be on the mainland by now.”
Jean leaned forward. “Paul, do you think that Jonathan’s murder had anything to do with the attempted break-in and the other goings on?”
“It certainly crossed my mind. But we don’t even know if the three goons, as I call them, were involved in any of the earlier events. Let’s go through what happened.” Paul counted off the incidents on his fingers. “One, the rat in the mailbox; two, the shot at Riley’s house; three, the attempt to run Riley over; four, the theft of Riley’s first car; five, the three goons; six, Jonathan snooping around the house and seven, Jonathan’s murder. I think that items one through four, which included the theft of Riley’s car, were attempts to frighten her into leaving the house, or better yet, the province. There’s no obvious connection between the three goons and any of the other incidents. In fact, we can’t be sure of anything, we can only guess. Having said that, one thing seems virtually certain—Jonathan’s snooping isn’t connected with his death.”
“Maybe he was robbed,” Jean suggested. “Did the police say anything about his wallet? He often carried quite a bundle of cash.”
“Not to me,” Paul replied.
“Nor to us,” said Jean.
“Well, there you are. That’s another possibility.”
“God! What a muddle,” said Riley. “And to think I’m still living in Uncle Richard’s house! I wish John Kelly were here. I’m sure he’d let us in on things. Jean, do you feel safe on your own?”
“Sure. There are neighbors close by and strong locks on the doors. Still, it might be different if someone was trying to scare me off.”
Riley turned to Paul. “Today’s changed everything, hasn’t it? I think we should move to town like we planned.”
Paul sighed. “It’s a pity, but I guess you’re right. I have a feeling it will be difficult to rent the house, though.”
“We’ll have to wait and see.”
Paul stood. “It’s time I left.”
“I’ll follow and pick up my overnight things,” said Riley.
Back at the house, they went to the bedroom. Paul watched as she filled a duffel bag with a housecoat, nightdress and other necessities.
“I’ve been trying to figure out why Jean’s taken Jonathan’s death so badly,” he said. “And after the way he treated her as well. Maybe she still loves him.”
“Quite possibly. But whatever the reason, I plan to do all I can to help.”
Riley returned to Jean’s A-frame almost an hour later, to find her watching TV.
“There’s a movie on in a few minutes,” Jean said. “It might take our minds off things.”
“Great!” exclaimed Riley. “It’s just what we need.”
In the small hours of the morning, Riley was awakened from a fitful doze by a cry from the upstairs bedroom. It sounded as though Jean was having a nightmare. Riley hurried upstairs and opened her door. She was sitting up with the bedside light on, staring at the wall.
“Are you okay?” Riley asked.
“It was awful—too awful to tell.”
“Poor thing! Why don’t you shove over and I’ll keep you company?”
Jean smiled weakly and moved to one side of the bed. She pushed over a pillow as Riley climbed in.
“Thanks. You’re a pal.”
As they lay down and faced each other, Riley put a hand on Jean’s cheek. “Don’t worry, you’ll feel better soon. Let’s turn out the light and get some sleep. Things will look different in the morning.”
As she drifted off, Riley concluded that one good thing had come out of the mess—her friendship with Jean was much deeper and more intimate than before.
On the following day, Thursday, Jean said she felt more cheerful but there was no way she could go to work after so little sleep. Riley suggested migrating to her place, which they did. They took the Toyota and stopped at the store to get a News. Jean remained in the car.
“‘Ello, Riley,” greeted Doris. “‘Ain’t seen you for a while. Did you ‘ear about Jean’s young man gettin’ murdered? Oh, my! Terrible t’ing, isn’t it? She must be very upset.”
“As is happens, Doris, they broke up a while back.”
“Well I never! Still, it must have been a nasty shock. There’s more on the killing in today’s News. Seems the police ain’t gettin’ nowhere.”
Riley paid for the paper.
“I’ll read the article when I get home. See you later!”
Riley returned to the car and as soon as they reached the house, she spread out the paper on the dining table so they could read the report together. In fact, it didn’t say much. Jonathan had been dead for approximately twenty-four hours before he was found and the murder weapon was a dagger of some kind. It concluded by stating that the investigation was continuing.
Riley drove Jean home before Paul returned from work. As they parted at the car, she hugged her friend.
“Don’t hesitate to give me a shout if you want.”
“Thanks,” said Jean. “You’re a good kid!”
Riley laughed and went back to the car.
Paul arrived home on time. They kissed outside the front door, then went into the house. Riley was wearing a T-shirt and as she reached the kitchen, Paul grabbed her from behind, slid his hands underneath it and fondled her bare breasts.
“Oh, God!” she moaned. “Paul, my love, you’re turning me on! The steak will burn!”
He let her go with a sigh. Riley disappeared into the kitchen, but before he had taken off his light jacket, she was back again.
“I turned off the grill,” she said, facing him. “Now then, where were we?”
“I was about to undress you.”
“I’ll start.” She quickly peeled the T-shirt over her head. “You can do the rest, but you’ll have to catch me first.”
She bolted into the bedroom and fell face-down on the bed. The next thing she knew, her jeans were off. Needless to say, it was quite a while before they started their meal.
Soon after eating, they were about to watch TV when the telephone rang.
“I’ll get it,” said Riley. “It’s probably Jean.”
She went to the table by the front door and picked up the receiver at the third ring.
“Hi!” said a familiar voice. “It’s Joni!”
“Hey, wow!” cried Riley. “It’s been a long time. How’s things?”
“Um…great. As a matter of fact, I feel kind of guilty. I should have called you.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Remember I told you that Trevor and I were seeing each other? Well, I just moved in with him.”
Riley didn’t hesitate. “Joni, that’s fantastic. It seems to be catching. What I mean is that Paul’s moved in as well.”
“I’m real happy for you, Ri. Maybe the four of us can get together sometime.” Joni paused for a moment. “On second thought’s, maybe we shouldn’t.”
Riley laughed. “We’ll see.”
“The thing is,” Joni continued, “the apartment’s empty.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Do you think we should sublet?”
“Dunno,” Riley replied. “Let me think about it.”
“Sure. There’s no hurry, is there?”
“I guess not.”
“Gotta go now,” said Joni. “Everything’s great, isn’t it?”
“Bye,” said Riley.
She found Paul on the settee, watching a silent TV.
“Did you get any of that?”
“Not really.”
“Joni’s moved in with Trevor. I’m real happy for her.”
“T
alking of moving in together, I spoke to my parents from work. They want to meet you. I told them you said any time. How about Sunday afternoon? We won’t stay for dinner or anything.”
“Perfect. I’ve been gearing myself up for it.”
“There’s no need to worry. They’re both open-minded. I doubt if they’d want us in the basement, though, but living someplace else is another matter.”
So it was that Riley and Paul visited Paul’s parents on Sunday afternoon at the house by the Topsail barachois. It was a hazy day with fog and drizzle rolling in off the bay, so they spent the time indoors. Paul took the opportunity to pack a few more of his belongings.
“You sure made a big hit, Riley-girl,” he said as they drove away in the Mustang.
“It wasn’t difficult. They’re such nice people, and I love the Scots accent. So long as they’re not expecting—oops!”
“Wedding bells?”
“Did I put my foot in it?”
At that point, they arrived at Topsail road. Paul pulled onto the shoulder a little before the intersection.
He took Riley’s hand and squeezed it. “You never put your foot in it. That’s because we think alike. I suppose we’ll have to talk about the future eventually, but not until life settles down a bit.”
Riley leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Joni was right. Everything’s great when you move in together. If only there weren’t the other stuff.”
Monday morning was bright and clear as Paul left for a nine o’clock start at work. Riley was washing up the breakfast things when the phone rang. It was Sergeant Kelly.
“This is my first day back from vacation. It’s a rum do about Mr. Hynes, isn’t it? I didn’t see a paper for the whole two weeks—took a leaf out of your book and went camping with the family at Gros Morne. The murder was a nasty surprise. I’ve talked to Constables Taylor and Byrne. From what they said, you were concerned about being implicated. We all had a meeting with the inspector, and I was authorized to tell you that there’s no incriminating evidence regarding Paul Sutherland or yourself. Even the motive is flimsy, to say the least. Besides, you couldn’t kill a mouse, never mind a person.”
“It’s real nice of you to call, John. I can’t deny that Paul and I were worried but we tried to make light of it. I sure hope you find the person responsible.”
“I’m afraid the case doesn’t look so good. If there’s anything to report, we’ll organize a news conference and you can read all about it.”
As soon as John Kelly hung up, Riley phoned the weather office. She expected Paul to be busy and had planned to ask him to call back, but it wasn’t necessary. He was as relieved as she was. His voice told her that.
“How about dinner out for a change?” he suggested.
“You bet!” exclaimed Riley.
Chapter Seventeen
A Weatherman No More
On Wednesday, September 13, Paul was due to finish work at eight in the evening. He arrived home half an hour late, heralded as usual by the basal growl of the Mustang. It was bucketing with rain, so Riley rushed to the front door and opened it. Paul took off his sodden raincoat. Obviously very angry, he flung it over the garbage can, which was kept on the porch. When he gave Riley a kiss, it was a mere peck. Worse still, he didn’t say a single word of greeting.
She stepped aside and shut the door behind him. “What’s wrong, sweetie? Why are you so mad?”
Paul didn’t answer at once, but delved into the back pocket of his jeans. He withdrew a rather crumpled envelope.
“Take a look at this,” was all he said.
Riley withdrew a form letter with Paul’s name and other details typed on dotted lines. She had to read it twice before the significance sank in—he had been laid off.
She looked up at him. “Oh, my poor darling! This is awful!”
She led him to the sofa and he sat beside her.
“Paul…say something, please!”
“It’s because of cost cutting and automation. Someone had to go and I had the lowest seniority. It makes me want to throw up.”
Riley pulled his head to her shoulder and stroked his hair. “I know it’s nasty, bad and downright shitty, but look on the bright side. We have the house, two cars and each other.”
“I suppose. But it’s a lousy deal. Why now of all times? And after everything else that’s happened? What’s more, they’ve only given me a month’s notice. I should complain to the union.”
“You do that,” said Riley. “And don’t worry, we’ll manage okay until you find something else.”
“I’m a meteorologist, my love; there aren’t any jobs around here.”
“I hadn’t thought of that. So we’ll have to do some thinking, right?”
“Right,” said Paul, getting to his feet.
Then Riley had an idea. It wouldn’t solve the problem, but it might make them feel more…well, together. She put her hands on his shoulders. “As soon as we can, we’re going to see Mr. McGrath. I want you to be co-owner of this house. I’m serious. It has to be legal, on paper, no strings attached. And no argument. You have to sign—please.” She thought his eyes were moist but couldn’t be certain.
Paul went over to the living room window and looked out at the rain. “In that case, I’m going to make a will. You get everything.”
“Darling, I didn’t mean—”
“I know it’s not like giving me half a house. And I’m as fit as a fiddle, a long way from Croak City.” He paused for a moment. “Come to think of it, so was Jonathan.”
“Let’s not talk about him!” Riley looked at Paul wistfully. “I’ve just decided: I’m going to make a will as well. You’re not mad at me, are you?”
“Never was. It felt a bit like charity, that’s all. I know it wasn’t, but that’s how it felt. About my getting laid off—I won’t be destitute, at least not yet. There’s a small severance payment plus my unemployment insurance, which is about half my current salary, such as it is. It’s supposed to tide a person over while they look for a new job.”
Riley joined Paul at the window. “That softens the blow a little, doesn’t it? And I forgot about my subsistence allowance, as my stepmother calls it. It’s not much, but it all adds up.”
The following morning, Paul slipped over to his parents’ house. He had forgotten some clothes when they visited at the weekend. On his return, Riley saw him take a bag and some grubby work boots from the back seat of the car. His hands were full so she opened the front door to let him in.
“I’ve got some news,” he said. “Mom and Dad have rented the basement apartment. They want us to collect the last of my stuff as soon as possible.”
“You look pleased, Paul.”
“Sure I am. It means they’ve accepted us living together. And they were very sympathetic about my layoff.”
“That’s good,” said Riley.
“I should pick up the rest of my things on the weekend.”
“How about Saturday? And there’s something else. I just got off the phone to Mr. McGrath and made an appointment for noon tomorrow. It won’t take long and there’ll be lots of time for a pub lunch before you go to work. He promised to have a conveyance for the house typed up and ready to sign.”
“It’s a big step, Riley. Are you sure you want to do it?”
“I’m obstinate when I want to be.” Riley frowned. “I suppose that losing your job means we can’t move into town?”
“I guess so. We’d need the rent from this house to pay for an apartment, and it will likely be difficult to lease until the spring. Same applies to selling.”
“We can always ask Mr. McGrath tomorrow.”
“No harm in that,” Paul concluded.
The pub lunch turned into a restaurant lunch at an establishment that looked across Harbour Drive to the ships tied up at the wharf. They were lucky to get a table for two with a good view of a freighter. Granted it was old, rusty and dirty-looking, but for Riley it conjured up visions of exotic foreign ports and lashing storm
s at sea. Well worn and worn well, she thought, echoing the words of a shoe commercial. She ‘came ashore’ when Paul spoke.
“The beer’s here, Riley-girl,” he said.
The waiter placed glasses of frothing lager before them. “Your orders won’t be long.”
“Thank you,” said Riley and turned to Paul. “What did you think of our Mr. McGrath? He seemed rather stuffy when we first met, but he’s loosened up a lot since then.”
“A typical St. John’s lawyer was my impression. But I can’t deny he’s nicer than I expected. No down-the-nose looks because we’re obviously living together.”
“I noticed that too. And he seemed very positive about selling the house in the spring when prices are higher.”
“Which is probably the best thing to do.”
Riley took a gulp of beer. “How about writing our wills on one of your days off? And we mustn’t be sad about it because we’re leaving everything to each other.”
“Riley-girl, you’re a bundle of—I was going to say nonsense, but I’ll change it to—”
“Paul!” Riley interrupted in a hoarse whisper. “Someone might hear.”
“Who’s having the fish and chips?” asked the waiter.
On Saturday the weather was dry so they collected the rest of Paul’s stuff from the basement apartment. However, on Sunday it turned cold, so much so that Riley gasped when she got out of bed on Monday morning. She glanced out of the window.
“You won’t believe this, Paul! Everything’s covered in frost! I’m glad the heater’s on.”
“My darling girl, it may be September but this is Newfoundland, not Ontario. It gets cold a lot earlier here. Come back to bed. You’ve got goose bumps all over and you look far too sexy for your own good.”
Riley did so, and kissed him.
A week later, it was still cool and sunny as they walked to the store to buy an Evening News. Every day since Jonathan’s murder, they had checked the paper for new information, but there was nothing. On this occasion, Riley leafed through it on the counter.
Doris seemed to know what she was looking for. “They’re givin’ up,” she announced. “They say they don’t ‘ave nothin’ to go on.”
“Giving up?” Paul queried. “Geez! It’s a bit soon for that, isn’t it?”
She Came From Away Page 19