Flights and Falls

by R. M. Greenaway

  Satisfied by his outrage, JD jotted down the name, along with the last known cell number Javits managed to find for Mills.

  “I’m going to talk to your mom alone for a few minutes now,” she said. “I may have more questions for you later.”

  Nervously, Mrs. Javits told JD what she knew about Perry’s plane-flying hobby, and what she said jibed with her son’s account. He had been avid about the sport for a couple of years. Used to pile into the car with a friend of his — sure, Scott was the name — and head off to go flying.

  “Just them two?”

  “Well, and Scott’s girlfriend,” Mrs. Javits said, and for the first time she smiled. “Cute kid. Wish Perry would get a nice girl like that, instead of … well.”

  JD pursued the “instead of” for a while, but it seemed Mrs. Javits didn’t want to talk about Perry’s love life. She did recall the nice girl well, though.

  “Dezi. Don’t know her last name.”

  Dezi? JD bottled her dismay. “A local girl?”

  Mrs. Javits didn’t know that, either.

  JD called Leith as she walked down to her car. The case, she told him, had just taken a swerve.

  Twenty-Seven

  SUGAR AND SPIES

  IN LIGHT OF JD’S INFORMATION, Leith called a meeting. The detachment had a wistful, closing-time, Christmas Eve feel, as though nobody was 100 percent present. “I have a feeling this is going to be a long night,” he said when JD finished relating what the Javitses had told her. Perry Javits was only peripherally of interest, but there was a new name on the board, Scott Mills, and Mills was only of interest because of the name pinned up next to his: Dezi Novak.

  “Look, before we jump the gun,” Leith told the group, “all we have right now is a young woman who has been connected to a man who is interested in RCs.”

  “A girl connected to an RC flyer,” Sean Urbanski said, “a girl who magically appears at the scene of a crime — likely to be murder by RC. That’s pretty big.”

  “Yes, but Novak came in of her own accord,” Leith said. “She volunteered her statement. We wouldn’t have known her name if she hadn’t come forward. Thoughts, JD?”

  With her lean body, short brown hair, and seeming contempt for cosmetics, jewellery, and frills of any kind, JD sometimes got mistaken for a guy. She didn’t seem to care. Only her voice gave her away, at least when she made an effort to sound pleasant. But it seemed to Leith she had spruced herself up lately. Maybe it was new trousers and a sweater, or something. Or a more stylish crewcut? In any case, she now leaned forward in her chair, warily eying the group of men as if waiting for insinuations to start. “Thoughts?” she echoed.

  “You seem to get along with Novak. You were saying you even took her to a shooting range a few days ago. Possibly, you’ve got more insight into who she is than any of us here.”

  “She seems like a good person,” JD said.

  “So did Susan Smith, I bet, when she wasn’t murdering her kids,” Urbanski said.

  Leith ignored him. “So the tour of the station and the shooting range — is that the extent of your association, JD? Or is there more?”

  “That’s about the extent of our association,” she told him. She had crossed her arms and was regarding him coldly.

  He pressed her for more, a rundown of all conversations she’d had with the girl.

  “As you know, she’s interested in a career in the force,” JD said. “That’s about all we’ve talked about. She asks me about the job. Application advice and whatnot. But not like she’s trying to figure out some way to get inside and plant a bomb. She’s enthusiastic and she’s genuine. Doesn’t mean she can’t be a criminal as well, but I doubt it. I really do.”

  “Did she pull off any shots at the range?” Torr asked.

  “As my guest. I gave her some instructions, and with permission and oversight, she pulled off one shot. She didn’t land a bull’s eye, but it made her day anyway.”

  Leith was thinking that if JD was male, questions about sexual impropriety would be buzzing through his mind now. But this was JD, who was just being a mentor to a hopeful recruit, and what was wrong with that? “Have you made plans to see her again?”

  He could tell the question made her uncomfortable. Maybe she had inappropriate feelings for the girl, or maybe she was painfully aware that everyone in the room was likely thinking that very thing. “No, but she’s got my phone number,” she said. “My thinking was, if she wants to adopt me as her big sister, that’s okay by me. I’m not so sure about that now.”

  Leith nodded. “You’d better keep your distance till we look into this further.”

  “I’m one step ahead of you there,” JD said with a grimace. “My search on her came up empty, by the way. No direct hits, no flagged associations. Also, if she really is, or was, Scott Mills’s girlfriend, she failed to tell me about it.”

  Leith was relieved to change the subject, and addressed the room at large. “Let’s turn up whatever we can on Scott Mills, then. Re-interview Perry Javits. Get an address on Mills, but don’t get in touch yet. Also give Craig Gilmartin and his family a discreet warning about both these individuals, Mills and Novak.”

  After the meeting concluded, a meet up at Rainey’s was talked about, along with the subject of chipping in to buy Craig Gilmartin a welcome-back-to-the-world gift, as he was being released from the hospital on Boxing Day. Leith remained seated, distracted by his upcoming task. How would he arrange to investigate a wholesome young woman like Dezi Novak?

  JD sat down beside him, and he looked at her.

  “If you’re thinking there’s anything going on between me and Dezi, there’s not.”

  “Okay,” he said.

  “But I have to tell you something, and I feel really bad about this. I did get closer to her than I should have. She looks up to me, like I’m some kind of superhero. It went to my head. Pride — it’s one of the deadly sins.”

  Leith laughed. “I’d hardly call encouraging a young person —”

  “It gets worse,” she interrupted. “She knows where I live. When we were driving out to the range, I kind of stupidly pointed out my apartment building to her. Total lapse of judgment. So what do I do if she gets in touch? Or worse, shows up on my doorstep?”

  Leith raised a eyebrow. “You think she will?”

  “Maybe. Christmas is just around the corner. I wouldn’t be totally shocked if she decided to give me a present. We talked quite a bit about personal stuff. I have the feeling she doesn’t get a whole lot of affection at home. Her mom is single, and always dating guys who get distracted when Dezi’s around.”

  Leith got it, and nodded. He was thinking about the options and the consequences of using JD’s friendship with Dezi to learn more about the girl. “I don’t know, JD. If you’re willing, it could be useful. Sounds like she’s opening her heart to you. Want to carry on, see what comes of it?”

  He could see that JD was already steeling herself against the ugly task. “I don’t like it,” she said. “But I’ll do it. As long as you okay it with the boss.”

  “I’ll ask him,” Leith said. Poor JD, he thought, looking at her profile— chin up, but with disappointment in the lines of her mouth. The one time she lets down her guard, it turns into a sting.

  Doug Paley joined them at the conference room table. He had done a few computer inquiries into Scott Mills, Dezi’s boyfriend. Mills was not on the hobbyists list, but he did have a record, going back three years. Assault.

  “Aggravated?” Leith asked.

  Paley shook his head. “Plain assault. Got probation and a no-contact order from a chick. Maybe nothing, but I’m definitely interested in this guy.”

  * * *

  JD hauled bags of groceries up to her apartment, one in each arm, like two unwieldy children. On reaching the third floor she was not completely surprised to see Dezi standing in front of her door, 303, just off the head of the stairs. Standing there as if she had been waiting for hours, sagging with boredom, but ne
ver giving up. If this had been yesterday, it would have been kind of nice. Now, minutes after a briefing about this very eventuality, it was kind of frightening.

  “Dezi, what the hell?”

  “Oh my god, I’ve been standing here for days!” Dezi cried. “I got the most perfect Christmas present for you, so I wanted to bring it by. Here, let me help you.” The girl seized both hefty bags, freeing up JD to fetch her keys from her pocket.

  “Now, c’mon, whatcha doing here, Dezi?” JD said, shoving the door open and retrieving the bags.

  “Nothing, except it’s almost Christmas, and Mom says we’re going out to Abbotsford tomorrow to see her parents for a few days, and I’ve got to help clean up and stuff, so this is really my last chance to see you for a while.”

  The suspect had idled her way inside the apartment as she spoke. She stood just inside the open front door, not barging in, not being presumptuous, but lingering hopefully, cute as a button, for an invitation to get past the threshold. JD deposited the groceries onto the counter in the kitchenette, then sat heavily on one of the steel and vinyl kitchen chairs. She beckoned. “Come in, Dezi. Shut the door. There’s juice in the fridge, if you’re thirsty.”

  “Just water’s fine,” Dezi said. She poured herself a glass and sat down, looking around with interest. “What a nice place. I can’t wait to get my own apartment.”

  “I bet. How’s your relationship with your mom going lately?”

  “I’m keeping it civil,” Dezi said. “And she is, too. I think the trick is to stay out of each other’s hair.”

  “And try to put yourself in each other’s shoes.”

  “Yes, I know. That’s what I’ve been doing. I’m not sure she knows how.”

  JD went to put the kettle on. She would make some tea, the nerve-soothing kind, as her nerves were definitely jumpy. “I’ve kind of been worrying about what I’ve been telling you,” she said. “I don’t want to leave you with the false impression that signing up will be a piece of cake.”

  “No, you made that clear enough.”

  “I think I was working so hard to be encouraging I might have glossed over some of the hurdles. That’s all.”

  Dezi’s face fell. “That’s exactly what I said to Constable Leith — I’ve heard there are all kinds of hurdles to jump.”

  “Sure, and like he also told you, I think, honesty will get you over most of them. Unless you’ve been in real trouble, Dezi.”

  “What kind of trouble? I told you about my fights with my mom. I’ve also skipped school a few times. I just couldn’t face the other kids some days. But just a few times, and it was nothing serious.”

  “Been there, done that,” JD said. “That’s not the kind of trouble I’m talking about, and I think you know it, Dezi.”

  Dezi nodded, and JD marvelled at how this grim but fantastic opportunity had landed before her. With mentoring as an excuse, she could ask the kid all kinds of personal questions. She was seated at the table again, facing her pupil. “You ever hung around with anybody who’s done something wrong? I mean seriously wrong. Even that could be a problem.”

  “I’ve never hung around with anybody who’s done anything seriously wrong,” Dezi said, but the concept seemed to upset her. She had tensed — maybe with anger, maybe anxiety. “Not that I know of. But what if my friends were in trouble, and I didn’t know about it? That doesn’t count, right?”

  “What counts is knowledge. You told me you don’t have a boyfriend. Is that true?”

  Dezi shook her head, denying any such thing. She sighed, then glanced sideways and her face brightened. “Nutella! I love Nutella. I could live on Nutella.” She was ogling a jar peeking out of one of the grocery bags on the counter.

  JD looked at the bag, looked at the girl, and like a predator, offered candy to a kiddie. “There’s bread in the bin,” she said. “Make yourself a sandwich. No, really. Help yourself.”

  Dezi was already at the bread bin, peeking inside. “You want one?” She had taken off her jacket and was wearing a tight pink tank top over faded blue jeans. She stood at the counter with butter knife in hand.

  JD said yes to the sandwich, and as the evening progressed, she put on her comfy off-duty clothes — slack-assed grey joggers and a sweatshirt — and she and Dezi moved to the undersized living room to watch TV, pig out on Nutella, and chat between bites. JD asked again about a boyfriend, and this time a name came out — there was a boy who liked Dezi, who she hung around with sometimes. But it was nothing intense, she said. Just friends. Scott Mills was his name.

  “Is Scott a good guy?” JD asked.

  Dezi looked doubtful. “He swears a lot, and he talks big about stuff, but he’s just kidding around.”

  “What kind of stuff?”

  With a squirm and a wince, Dezi seemed about to say, I don’t want to talk about this right now. But perhaps she recalled the warning about honesty being the best policy. “Stuff like robbing banks and stealing cars,” she said, low-voiced. “But he doesn’t mean it. Just being a macho jerk. Other than that, he’s fun. And he’s cute. But if you think I shouldn’t hang around with him, I won’t. Seriously.”

  “You’d trade in your friend for a career?”

  In what looked like a fit of exasperation, Dezi gave her a piercing stare. “I just want to do it right, JD. Sometimes I don’t know what’s right and what’s wrong.”

  “Hey, don’t worry about it,” JD said, hoping she was telling the truth. “You’re a good kid, and everything will be all right.”

  After a moment’s reflection, Dezi nodded. “You’re right. I overthink stuff. Everything will be all right. And lookit.” She placed a tiny gift-wrapped box on the coffee table. “This is for you, JD.”

  “Aw, thanks, kiddo.” JD opened the box. Twinkly little rhinestone earrings, just as she feared. “Now all I need to do is to pay someone to jab steel spikes through my earlobes,” she said, with a smile to soften the sting.

  Dezi had been sitting close beside her, watching the wrapping come off with hungry, gift-giver anticipation, and now looked disappointed. “You don’t have pierced ears? Seriously? Oh my god. Who doesn’t have pierced ears? You’d be so pretty,” she said, and edged closer and reached out, touching JD’s cheek, skimming her fingers toward JD’s earlobe in what sure as hell felt like a lover’s caress.

  At the first touch JD lurched, but inwardly. She shifted position, putting distance between herself and the outstretched hand. She looked away from the longing in Dezi’s eyes and down at the earrings in the box, which now seemed to sparkle tragically. She set the gift down and stood, sending the message loud and clear.

  Dezi looked stricken. She stood, too, mumbling something about her curfew, and merry Christmas and all that, as she looked about for her jacket.

  Making small talk, hoping to reassure the girl that all was still good between them, JD walked Dezi down to the front door of the complex and saw her off. She watched through the glass until the little yellow Sidekick had vanished down the avenue, but remained staring outward. The world was dark and sleety, and across the street, was that a man? With a jolt JD realized she was right. Hooded in black, he stood on the opposite sidewalk, maybe looking this way. She stared at him, and the man turned and walked away, hunched and hurried.

  She pushed the door open and stepped onto the concrete landing, following him with her eyes, tempted to shout out, Hey there, stop! Who are you? But he was well out of earshot, and had gotten into a vehicle. Her view of him was blocked by a frustrating mess of lampposts, shrubs, and, wouldn’t you know it, a fucking cube van. She jogged down to the street in time to see brake lights come on, saw the car zip out and tear away down the avenue in the same direction that Dezi had gone. She couldn’t see what make or model the car was, or even its general class, let alone colour or licence plate.

  “Damn,” she said.

  Coincidence, maybe. Maybe nothing to do with her at all, or with Dezi, but it sure felt like some kind of surveillance. And now the girl cou
ld be in danger. She turned to rush back inside, and said “damn” again, louder, because the apartment door had long since wheezed shut, and now she stood on the steps in the rain, in T-shirt and joggers and flip-flops, without keys or phone.

  She pushed out the building manager’s buzz code and waited, swearing.

  Twenty-Eight

  STAR LIGHT

  AFTER A LONGER THAN expected day in the office, Leith was clearing his desk to head home. If anything further happened on the file, somebody else would have to deal with it, because his dance card was punched. Tonight Alison’s sister and brother-in-law were coming over for the Christmas Eve dinner of turkey and all the trimmings that Alison was busy preparing now. Tomorrow they would travel in tandem to the Island for a full-tilt family get-together in Parksville. Not his family, which was based in faraway North Battleford, but Alison’s. Sheer madness, he’d told her, to ride the ferries on Christmas Day. But the reservations were made, the relatives were thrilled, and it seemed there was no going back.

  Dion approached, looking like he had something important to say, but Leith spoke first. “Hey there, season’s greetings. Any plans for tonight?”

  “Well, yes,” Dion said, holding up a piece of paper. “Scott Mills —”

  “I mean, it’s Christmas Eve,” Leith interrupted curtly. He banged his file drawer shut, locked it, pocketed the key. “Tonight, tomorrow? Feasts and festivities? A present under the tree you’re just dying to open? C’mon, you must have a life outside these walls.”

  Apparently not. Having waited till Leith was done, Dion got back to business. “Scott Mills is listed at an address out in Lions Bay, which also pings as the address of Karl Gold-Seton. I don’t know what that’s all about. Karl’s a lawyer. He used to do criminal work, but he’s pretty much retired now. I’ve contacted him, and he’ll be at his firm’s office in downtown Vancouver tonight. It’s a staff party.”

  “A staff party on Christmas Eve? Kind of unusual.”

  The RCMP party had been held in the first week of December. Leith had put in an appearance. Dion hadn’t.