by Susan Calder
“How can you see—?”
“Tony agrees. He’s been around.”
“Even if you’re right, capable doesn’t mean—” To get moving, Paula grabbed the dress. She hung it in the closet, leaving space between it and the adjacent skirts so the dress wouldn’t wrinkle. If Sam saw this trait in Dimitri it would explain why he so easily believed his son did it.
“Dimitri’s always hanging around Sam’s house,” Ginette said. “That’s why we didn’t want Isabelle to continue living there. She was getting too friendly with Dimitri.”
“She says they’re just friends.”
“Isabelle’s gullible; he could convince her of anything.”
“Dimitri’s in Ottawa now.”
“He comes back often enough. Parliament only sits about half the year.”
“The cops might be arresting him as we speak. If he’s guilty, he’ll go to jail.”
“Do you really believe that? Sam and his friends will take care of it.”
“How?”
“People with money and power know how to handle the cops.”
“Pizza’s ready.” Erin poked her head in the door frame.
Ginette tousled Erin’s blond head, “I’m glad Isabelle’s moving in with you. You seem grounded.”
Erin stuck her tongue out at Paula. “Tell that to my mom.”
Erin was gullible and naïve, too. She would give the T-shirt off her back to anyone. What had she got her daughter into? If he wasn’t arrested, Dimitri could follow Isabelle to Erin’s house. Paula might choose a dangerous situation for herself; she did not want her daughter involved.
Chapter Nineteen
On her way to meet Anne, Paula stopped to question her hit-and-run claimant at his place of work. His office looked out to a high-rise building under construction. He was an accountant who handled the payroll for a large oil company. Paula noted him move with ease as he closed his office door. He wore no cervical collar.
“You seem to have recovered from your whiplash,” she said.
He massaged his neck. “It flares up at night. Painkillers hardly help.”
From her chair, she stared across his desk, into his close-set eyes. “I received a police report. A man claims he was sideswiped by a driver who took off. He’s got damage along the left side, in addition to whiplash.”
“What does that have to do with me? This must happen a lot.”
“On the same night? Around the same time? Two blocks from your accident?”
He frowned so intently that his eyebrows met above his nose bridge. “Two blocks . . . I might have got the street wrong.” He yanked a finger; his knuckle cracked. “The fellow is lying. He’s the one who hit me. Did he get any witnesses?”
“Neither did you.”
“It’s his word against mine.”
“He reported the accident; you didn’t.”
“It’s not required for damages under one thousand dollars. I—”
“Your appraisal is thirty-two hundred dollars.”
“Those garages rip you off.”
“In your statement, you said you were taking a different route home. Why?”
“I told you already, for variety, and it wasn’t so different. I try something new every few weeks. My wife confirmed that for you.”
“She believes you were working until eleven thirty?”
“Why wouldn’t she?” He glanced at the photo on his side table. Blond wife. Two blond smiling kids.
“I noticed a security camera downstairs. It will show the time you left.”
He pulled on his finger.
She winced, waiting for the crack. “It would be better for you to come clean.”
“You insurers. I pay premiums year after year and the first time I make a claim all you do is look for ways not to pay.” He pointed his finger at her. “If you don’t mind, I have a ton of work to finish today.”
Paula wished her desk looked so clear. He claimed he’d worked late that night to get in the payroll. His department was short-staffed due to downsizing. It didn’t matter if he’d left his office or his girlfriend’s house, except that catching him in a lie might make him crack.
“I’m going to talk to my lawyer.” He touched his neck, which now looked rigid.
“That’s not a bad idea.”
“The Kid is Hot Tonight” blared through the fitness center speakers. Women, of various ages and shapes, worked the machines. Anne was in her glass office arguing with the machine maintenance contractor, who had shown up unexpectedly. Paula waited for her at the reception desk. Entrepreneurship was a hassle, Anne said repeatedly during their workout sessions, yet it was obvious she thrived on those hassles, like Paula’s boss, Nils, did. Both worked ridiculous hours and were taking on the big guys, in Anne’s case the fitness chains. Unlike Nils, Anne was starting to win, thanks to her better organizational skills and expansion into whole health that appealed to the local Kensington yuppie residents. Fit for Life offered everything from yoga to counseling to body talk, whatever that was. Paula avoided the fruity getting-in-touch-with-yourself stuff. She and Anne preferred pounding the treadmills while discussing the struggles of the small firm.
Sometimes, Paula had wondered if Callie left their trio because she felt excluded. Now she knew Callie quit because she was involved with Anne’s son. Did Anne know about this yet? Dimitri was well acquainted with guns. When Dimitri was a boy, he and Anne went out shooting with Anne’s father, an avid sportsman. Next month, he was going hunting with a group of cabinet ministers—good networking for him, Anne said. Dimitri had to have known about the gun in his other grandfather’s shed. He could easily have stolen it to use on Callie.
In the glass office, Anne and the maintenance man rose to shake hands. He lugged his equipment to an elliptical machine. Anne hurried over to Paula and apologized for the delay. They hugged. Anne had dressed for the walk in capri pants, a V-neck T-shirt with capped sleeves, and no sweater, despite the cool temperature. Paula asked how her husband was doing.
“They still can’t find the cause of his heart palpitations,” Anne said.
They crossed the parking lot and crunched over gravel down the lane. Both put on sunglasses; the hospital was due west.
“Have you heard from Dimitri since he went to Ottawa?” Paula asked.
“He’s having the time of his life.” Anne smiled over at Paula. “Isn’t it wonderful to be young and embarking on a new adventure?” Her face sobered. “Of course, Dimitri’s concerned about Doug. I told him not to worry. It will be okay. I’ve been so preoccupied—”
A garbage truck roared by. Callie’s involvement with Dimitri wasn’t something Paula wanted to shout above the stream of cars. But the police were certain to act soon. Anne might take the news better from a friend and she’d be furious at Paula for knowing about this and holding it back.
“I saw Kenneth last night,” Paula said.
“Callie’s death has knocked him flat. Kenneth told us the only thing that’s kept him going the past two years was the hope she’d come back. Doug asked me to keep an eye on him, in case he does something desperate.”
“I don’t think Kenneth’s the type to sink to suicide.”
“Anyone is.”
Anne’s legs were around the same length as Paula’s, but they were moving fast. Paula did a quickstep to catch up. She had known Anne for five years and this was the first time they’d walked together outside.
“Did Kenneth tell you about their peculiar plan for disposing of Callie’s ashes?”
“The boxes of cremains.”
“Kenneth said they were the boxes from their wedding.” Anne lifted her elbows to power walk. She described the wedding as a hippie-like ceremony on Sandy Beach that must have been Callie’s idea. “It sure wasn’t Kenneth.” Callie wore a flower wreath in her hair and a Greek-goddess dress that Anne helped her make. The day was perfect August weather. The affair was limited to family and close friends—about a dozen people—and Sam was best man.
>
“So he and Kenneth were that close?” Paula said.
“Dimitri was the ring bearer. He’d just turned three. Sam and I had to keep grabbing him so he wouldn’t run up to the front and wreck the ceremony.”
They stopped for the 14th Street lights. Paula was glad to catch her breath. She squatted to stuff her sweater into her backpack.
Anne marched on the spot, arms moving power-walk-style. “Felix told me you and Sam are an item. Is that true?”
“Totally not. Where did Felix get that idea?”
“I heard you’re all going hiking in Kananaskis.”
“Felix told you that?”
Anne’s hazel eyes flashed a mix of girlfriend curiosity and concern.
The light changed. They crossed 14th Street. Anne barely puffed up the hill.
“I can see Sam being attracted to you,” Anne said. “For starters, he leans toward dark-haired women.”
Anne’s hair had been dark before it went gray and she lightened it to ash-blond. She kept telling Paula to go blond, claiming it softened the aging face.
“Sam also likes women who seem independent,” Anne said. “Seem being the operative word. Half the time he gets it wrong and they turn out to be high maintenance. I suspect he secretly enjoys the drama. That’s why, in the end, he’s not for you.”
“Who is?”
“Probably Hayden, if you give him a chance. It isn’t all rockets out of the starting gate.”
Paula’s impression was it wasn’t rockets for Anne and Doug. They had separate bedrooms due to Doug’s snoring and restlessness sleeping.
Anne pointed at the brown brick school. “There’s Dimitri’s junior high; how many hours I spent in that principal’s office.”
Busy 5th had turned into broad, quiet 6th Avenue. Here was a spot to drop the bomb, although Anne had provided an opening for more information. A few more minutes delay wouldn’t hurt. “Did Dimitri get into trouble at school?”
“Nothing serious,” Anne said. “Stuff like throwing spitballs, failing to hand in assignments, cutting classes. He settled down in high school, got his energy out in a garage band he formed. My God, the noise, I felt sorry for my neighbors.”
Music was an interest he and Callie shared. They had met at the folk fest. “Did Dimitri give up the band after high school?”
“Thank God he did. There was no future in it.”
“I’ve never asked before. How did Dimitri happen?”
“The usual way,” Anne smiled.
“I’d have thought you would be more careful.”
Anne stopped to check for traffic. “I tried the pill, but it made me feel bloated and fat. Sam and I were using condoms, but you know guys in those days. They liked it better without them. I was foolish to go along, but I don’t regret Dimitri, not for one second. He’s the best thing that ever happened to me.” She jaywalked toward the community center. “I like to detour down this street. It’s quieter.”
The avenue had a suburban flavor. Its houses were newer than the ones in Kensington and Hillhurst, the yards larger. Few cars cruised by. Anne power walked, chin forward in determination. It must have been hard, at twenty-one, to raise a child on your own. With the baby’s arrival, Anne had abandoned her plan to do an MBA. She worked at jobs that fit the growing child’s schedule, while Sam rose up the architectural ranks. True, he had stuck around to help with the child, but he had been a cad to get her pregnant.
They veered around a toddler riding a tricycle. The bike clanged over the sidewalk joints behind them. The child sped up, passed them on the grass, and pedaled up his driveway.
“If I hadn’t had Dimitri,” Anne said, “I might not have had children at all. Doug was wary of having kids of his own. His father and uncles all died in their forties and fifties from heart disease and diabetes, which Doug inherited. It sounds calculating, but Dimitri benefited from getting Sam’s genetics and Doug’s parenting.”
The dead-end street led to a sidewalk. They climbed up the stairs to the pedestrian overpass. Even Anne was puffing by the top. Traffic roared beneath them down the Crowchild Trail. Clouds covered the sky. They removed their sunglasses. The hospital jutted like a castle behind the trees. If Paula didn’t raise the issue now, there might not be another chance. No one else had rushed to be the first to tell Anne.
Paula stared at Anne’s profile: pointed nose, small round chin. “Kenneth told me something else last night.”
“What?” Anne turned toward her, heart-shaped face alert.
“It’s about Dimitri.”
Worry clouded Anne’s hazel eyes.
“Callie and Sam were never involved. Their marriage was a cover for her affair with Dimitri. It began over two years ago and ended last spring.”
Anne’s mouth opened. She didn’t speak.
“I still hardly believe it myself,” Paula said.
“Dimitri,” Anne croaked. “Callie.”
“I know.”
Anne coughed to clear her throat. “She’s twice his age. She’s my age.”
But looked and acted much younger than Anne, whose stunned face was more wrinkled than Paula had noticed before.
Anne rocked from foot to foot, trying to steady herself. “Kenneth told you this?”
“He was in on it from the start. Sam convinced him to go along.”
“I see Kenneth at least once a month. He’s never said anything. It can’t be true. Someone would have told me.”
“Kenneth thinks the only other person who knows is Felix.”
“Felix?” Anne shrieked above the traffic din. “He kept this from me, too?”
“They probably figured why worry you, since it was bound to end, which it did about five months ago, when Callie broke it off.”
Anne gripped the railing and stared down. She looked ready to somersault onto the cars. No wonder the others had hidden the affair from her. She hadn’t yet grasped the worst: her son was now a prime suspect for murder.
“Here I was afraid Dimitri had something going on with Callie’s niece,” Anne said.
“Isabelle? I know they’re friendly—”
“Felix had a barbecue Labor Day weekend, a bon voyage party for Dimitri.”
Anne had told Paula about the barbecue; she hadn’t mentioned Isabelle.
“You should have seen Dimitri and Isabelle together. I worried he was throwing his career away for that silly girl. Callie was a married woman, twenty years older than him. It would have been disastrous.”
“That was the reason for the cover.”
“Whose idea was that? Sam’s, I bet. It explains so many things. Dimitri always stayed at Sam’s house when he was in town.” Anne’s jaw went slack. Her face turned white. “Did you say Callie broke it off? When? Do the police know about this?”
Paula touched Anne’s hand. “They do now.” How would Paula feel if one of her daughters was in this kind of trouble? Anne’s fingers were cold and shaking.
“Have they arrested him?” Anne’s voice was barely audible above the cars.
“Not that I’m aware. This is only circumstantial evidence against him. Maybe he has an alibi.”
Anne’s eyes lit up with hope, but if Dimitri had one, Sam wouldn’t be so worried.
“Dimitri’s in Ottawa now,” Anne said. “Will the cops there talk to him?”
“Probably.”
“I’m sure he’s innocent.”
Paula ran her hand through her hair, avoiding the expected agreement.
“You don’t believe he is?” Anne looked panicked. “Did Callie tell you something? Did you hide it from me, too? What did she say?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell me.”
“I swear.” Paula backed into the railing.
Anne raised her arms as though to grab Paula by the shirt. Paula moved sideways. It was a twenty foot drop to the freeway and she didn’t want Anne pushing her over the railing by accident.
“Callie told me nothing,” Paula insisted. “It bugs me she didn’
t. We were supposed to be friends. Didn’t she trust me?”
Anne took deep, heaving breaths. The white left her face. She looked calmer, almost normal. Still, it would be wise to get off the overpass.
“I suppose,” Anne said, “Callie was afraid if you knew, you’d let something slip during our workouts.”
“That might be part of it.”
“A sham marriage,” Anne said. “Trust Sam to come up with a scheme like that.”
“Kenneth says Sam, Callie, Felix, and Dimitri planned it together.”
“It was Sam. He’s the worst drama queen. Why solve a problem with a simple approach when there’s a convoluted, complicated way.”
“Drama queen?”
“Why didn’t Sam tell the cops about this . . . arrangement?”
“He knew it would make Dimitri a suspect.”
“Didn’t he realize keeping it secret makes it worse when it finally comes out?”
“Sam was hoping the murder would be settled before it did.”
“Why didn’t Kenneth come out with it, then?”
“That’s a good question.”
“Felix goes along with whatever Sam says. Kenneth . . . I can’t understand him. Yes, I do. He loves Callie. He must be furious at Dimitri for stealing her. He’s also smart enough to see that holding it back would put the screws on his rival.”
“I don’t think Kenneth would be so cruel.” Although he could be ruthless in business; Anne’s theory made sense.
Anne rolled her hands into fists. “I hate him.”
“Kenneth?”
The anger drifted from Anne’s face as she struggled to regain control. “I don’t really mean that. He’s a good friend, my husband’s best friend and, in a way, I admire his devotion to Callie. I just feel so . . .”
“Helpless?”
Anne thrust her chin forward. “Dimitri didn’t kill her. I’m his mother. I know.”
Chapter Twenty
“I’m going to try Dimitri’s assistant.” Anne flipped open her cell phone.
“He didn’t answer the last two times,” Paula said. Nor had Dimitri answered Anne’s calls to his cell phone and Ottawa residence.