by Jude Pittman
Unaffected, the redhead shook her head.
"If you'll have a seat I'll summon Mr. Guthrie's assistant. Perhaps she can arrange an appointment."
"Thank you." Jesse strolled over to a row of chairs and took a seat. Moments later a plump brunette with a bright, round face trotted across the room.
"I understand you'd like to make an appointment with Mr. Guthrie." She stopped in front of Jesse and smiled.
"Hello," Jesse said, removing a card from his pocket and holding it out.
"It's a personal matter—concerning the death of a young woman working on one of the community service projects Mr. Guthrie is involved with. I realize this is an unorthodox call, but I represent the young woman's brother and I was hoping if you gave him my card and explained the situation he might give me a few moments."
The woman studied the card for a moment and then nodded at Jesse. "I can't promise," she said, "Mr. Guthrie is awfully busy, but I'll see what I can do."
"Thanks." Jesse smiled his gratitude and sat down to wait.
Ten minutes later the assistant returned, motioned Jesse to follow her down the hallway to a large corner office, where she opened the door and stepped aside for Jesse to enter.
Behind the desk, a thin faced man in his late forties or early fifties focused sharp brown eyes on Jesse's face and waited for him to speak.
"Thank you for seeing me." Jesse approached the desk and stuck out his hand.
"I'm pressed for time this morning." The man gave Jesse a limp handshake. His high-pitched voice went well with his gray hair and military moustache.
"Yes sir, I appreciate that." Jesse settled into one of the leather chairs facing Guthrie's over-sized desk. "I'm here on behalf of Alex Perrault. I believe you knew his sister?"
Jesse kept his eyes trained on Guthrie's face. Sure enough, just for a second, something flashed, and then disappeared. Recognition? Guilt? Knowledge? Jesse didn't know, but he damn sure intended to find out.
"I come across a lot of people in the course of my business and other activities. Is there some particular reason you believe I know this man's sister?"
"She's been working as a volunteer on an environmental project I understand you spearheaded. The Clayoquot Sound Group."
"There are a lot of young people working on my projects. I value them and admire their dedication, but naturally with so many, I don't know all their names."
"I understand. But Shannon—that's her name—might stand out for you because her name's been in the papers. She was murdered last week."
"That poor girl they found in the park. I didn't realize she was one of ours." Guthrie's mustache twitched and his expression softened. "What can I do to help?"
That was more like it. At least this stiff-necked lawyer was finally showing some emotion. "Perhaps this picture will refresh your memory," Jesse pulled out one of the snapshots and handed it across the desk.
"Yes. I remember now. Young girl—in fact I questioned her at our Tuesday meeting as to whether her parents knew where she was—most of our volunteers are older and I wanted to make certain she had parental approval."
Jesse perked up. So, Shannon had attended the meeting Tuesday night, he needed to question those volunteers, find out if anyone knew where Shannon went after the meeting.
Jesse held out his hand for the photo. "Do you have any objections to my attending one of your meetings and questioning the other volunteers?" He rose to his feet and placed Shannon's photo back in his pocket.
Guthrie studied Jesse for several moments and then shrugged.
"The meetings are open, but as far as giving you permission to question anyone, I'm afraid that's not up to me. All of those kids are volunteers, so any questions they want to answer would be up to them."
"That's fair. I'm trying to help Alex find out what happened to his sister. I'm sure most of them will be sympathetic."
"I meant no offense," Guthrie came around his desk and offered his hand again. "I'm just being careful not to make commitments that aren't mine to make. We meet Tuesdays and Thursdays in the little house back of Britannia Recreation Center."
"Thanks," Jesse accepted Guthrie's limp hand.
Chapter Nine
The wind howled across the deserted beach whirling sand into dirt devils and pushing them out into the churning waters. A boy and girl, college students from the University of British Columbia, walked side by side, hands clasped, enjoying the secluded stretch of Wreck Beach where clothing optional still ruled.
"I feel so free," the girl said, turning toward the boy and pressing her breasts against his chest.
"Wowsa." He pulled her closer, his hands sliding down her back and gripping her butt cheeks.
"Not here," she whispered. "Someone might come along. Let's climb that hill. The weeds are thick up there, they'll hide us."
"Let's go." He grabbed her hand and started running, pulling her with him. Laughing and stumbling they reached the bank and scrambled into the undergrowth. When they entered a patch of cat tails the boy grabbed his girl around the waist and they tumbled to the ground mouths locked, arms and legs entwined, rolling together in a tangle of limbs until they lodged —girl atop boy—against an old log.
"That was awesome." Sarah laughed into the wind. Raising her head she glanced over the fallen log. Abruptly her laughter turned into a horrified cry and she clung to the boy like a limpet. "Oh my God," she whispered.
"What's the matter?" The boy wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted himself into a sitting position. "I can't see anything." He strained his neck to peer over her shoulder and see behind the log. "Oh shit." He cursed, finally getting a good look. "She's dead."
"How do you know?"
"Look at her face. No live person ever looked like that."
"Shouldn't we make sure?"
"Okay. But I'm telling you, she's dead." He clambered over the log and pressed his fingers against her throat. "She's cold." He shuddered at the touch and yanked his hand away. "Like I said, she's dead."
"What should we do?"
"We're getting the hell out of here. If she was murdered the killer could still be around."
"Oh my God. What if he's watching us?"
"Be quiet. I'm calling 911 right now."
The boy spoke into the phone giving their location and describing the body.
"Come on." He pulled the girl to her feet. "There's a driveway a couple hundred yards up the beach. The cops are going to meet us there. Let's go." He grabbed the girl's hand and they ran as fast as their legs would carry them down the beach and away from the horror they'd just seen.
* * *
"You were right," Jesse said, hanging up the phone and turning to Martine. "That was Hanson. The girl they found on Wreak Beach last night was Amy."
"Poor kid. She didn't deserve that."
"They found another medicine card. The crow this time."
"Do you know what it means?"
"I think it's Law or Justice, something like that. Maybe the killer's trying to tell us he's above the law."
"Arrogant bastard. Is Lyle still in custody?"
"He's being released this morning. The cops found a witness that remembered seeing Lyle in the theatre Tuesday night. The witness swears that he sat two seats over from Lyle, who was alone, and neither of them left their seats during the film. The man remembered Lyle particularly because he was wearing a bear claw necklace. He asked about the necklace and Lyle told him it was a polar bear. The movie started at 8:30 and ended at 10:40. According to the Medical Examiner Shannon died around nine so Lyle's no longer a suspect."
Martine shuddered. "I'm glad it wasn't Lyle, and I sure hope you're right about it being a white man. If the killer is Native our people are going to be the ones to suffer."
"The fact that Amy's white will turn this into a witch hunt. Hanson's going to be under so much pressure to make an arrest that nobody who knew Shannon or Amy is going to be safe."
Chapter Ten
Martine accepted J
esse’s invitation to share a pizza while they brainstormed their next moves in the investigation. Things went great and Jesse was beginning to hope they might even move their relationship up a notch, when Martine told him that she intended on going to the Clayoquot sound meeting the next night. Without thinking, Jesse told her it wasn't safe and he should go in her place. That, of course, had been stupid. Martine told him in no uncertain terms that just because his mind was set on getting into her pants, didn’t give him the right to go all macho protective on her, and in the future there would be no more shared pizza or anything else between them. She had stormed out the door and gone home and Jesse spent the night trying to figure out how he could get back in her good graces.
He finally came up with a plan that called for working from home the next day. He spent the morning working, getting some phone calls out of the way and updating his reports. For lunch, he threw a burrito into the microwave and ate while he finished his notes.
Finally, he put the paperwork away and headed down Commercial Drive, stopping at every flower vendor he passed and gathering paper cones filled with flowers. Next, he went to the Pottery Barn and selected a dozen vases. His last stop was the Gift Emporium, where he chose a dozen "I'm Sorry" cards. Back at his condo, he filled the vases with flower and taped a card to each one. Getting out his master key, Jesse carried them all over to Martine's and arranged the vases on every shelf and table in sight.
Finished, Jesse went home to wait.
He'd almost given up on getting a response in time to carry out the rest of his plan, when a sharp knock sounded on his door.
Wish me luck, he addressed the Ojibway medicine man hanging on his wall, then he opened the door and had to smother his laughter.
Martine stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips and fire in her eyes.
"I suppose there's an explanation for someone entering my place when I wasn't home."
"I thought I smelled smoke." Jesse kept his expression poker straight. "As your landlord it was my duty to make sure you were safe."
"And the flowers? I suppose you put them there to cover the smell." Martine couldn't keep the laughter out of her voice or the twinkle out of her eyes.
"Guilty." Jesse wrapped her in his arms and pulled her into a crushing embrace. "I'm so sorry. Can you forgive me for being an idiot?"
"Well…"
"Please. I can't stand having you mad at me. Besides, I've got a bribe."
“What?” Her eyes turned dark with suspicion.”
Jesse smiled and opened the door wide, so she could see the table beautifully set for two with a chafing dish set in the middle. “Jambalaya.”
“You’re kidding. You made this.” Martine approached the table and sniffed the air.
“A Creole friend taught me. Wait till you taste it with the bannock.”
“Bannock too. Okay, she pulled out a chair. You’re forgiven.”
They’d eaten their fill and then discussed various aspects of the case. When Martine brought up the protest meeting, Jesse cautiously suggested that they should have a code that either one of them could text very quickly if they were in trouble. Martine gave him a funny grin, but agreed that it was good idea and they settled on Spirit Water as their SOS.
Chapter Eleven
Martine finished applying the last coat of dark red lipstick and stepped back to survey herself in the full-length mirror. Black hair hung to her waist, with a few wisps that had been twisted and sprayed into spikes at her temples. A thick layer of white pancake covered her face, and she'd lined her eyes with the kohl black favored by her new contemporaries.
Should be good. Martine smoothed the purple miniskirt and checked the tops of the purple suede thigh highs that completed her new age costume. Satisfied, she grabbed her black suede bag and hustled out the door and down the steps to Commercial Drive.
The house behind Britannia opened into a large workroom and Diana greeted Martine as soon as she stepped through the door. Les wasn't there and Diana explained that he was on some kind of special assignment.
For the most part, the workers consisted of young college students, intent on making a difference to the environment. They were a lively group, excited about their cause and dedicated to equal justice for man and animal alike.
There were mailers to be stamped, posters to be fastened onto stakes for delivery to the neighborhood and leaflets to be folded. Martine worked steadily for a couple of hours when she noticed several volunteers gathering their jackets.
Guthrie, who had ignored Martine up to this point, appeared at her elbow.
"The others got here a couple of hours before you and I did." He leaned in close and Martine forced herself not to shudder.
"If you could finish up this last stack of mailers, I would be a great help." He rested his hand on her shoulder. "What do you say? Are you game to help me?"
Warning bells sounded in her head, but anxious to find out if he knew anything about Shannon, Martine shut them down. After all, there were a dozen others listening to Guthrie's request.
"I guess I could stay for another hour to help you finish the mailers." Martine raised her voice to make certain the others heard her agree to stay behind with Guthrie.
"That's a good girl." He squeezed her shoulder and walked away.
For the next hour, Martine worked steadily, folding and sealing the mailers and then packing them in a box for delivery to the post office.
Gradually she relaxed and forgot about being alone with Guthrie. Across the room, he worked on a box of posters, fastening them to stakes as stacking them into a crate.
Finally, finished with the last of the mailers, Martine, picked up her bag and walked over to say goodnight to Guthrie.
"Finished?" Guthrie closed the crate he'd been working on. "I certainly appreciate the work you've done today." He smiled and once again Martine controlled the urge to shudder.
"I can't let you go without at least offering some refreshments."
"Thank you, but I really don't need anything. I should be getting home.” Martine held up her cell phone, typed a few strokes and pushed the send button. “My room mate’s expecting me."
"Nonsense, I insist you at least have a glass of milk and a cookie. It'll only take a minute." Guthrie grabbed her arm and as they talked he led her toward a door at the back of the room.
"I have everything we need right back here." He pushed the door so it swung inward and, in the same instant, gave Martine's arm a powerful yank and dragged her through the open doorway.
A monstrous brass bed spread with a bright green comforter dominated the room, and the meaning of the rabbit with the glowing green fur flashed into Martine's brain. Desperate to get away she lunged at Guthrie, but he only spun her around and flung her down on the bed.
"No you don't my pretty." He pulled her arms behind her back and tied her with what felt like a leather belt.
"Help," Martine screamed at the top of her lungs.
"We can't have that now, can we?" Guthrie crooned in a high-pitched singsong voice. He flipped her over and slapped a strip of electrical tape across her mouth.
"There. Now we won't be disturbed."
Martine bucked against the mattress, using her legs to propel herself across the bed.
Guthrie pounced on top of her, flattening her beneath him and knocking the wind out of her lungs.
"Feisty little thing, aren't we." He grabbed her legs and spread them apart. We'll have to fix that, but first, let's get these things off you." While Martine threshed and bucked, Guthrie yanked her pants and panties down her legs and tossed them aside.
Martine bucked forward on the bed, flinging her bound arms, trying to smash them against Guthrie's skull.
He laughed and forced her body back down on the mattress. Then he took a leather thong out of his pocket, and tied one of her legs to the bottom bedpost.
Martine continued to thresh and buck, but to no avail. The more she struggled the more Guthrie laughed. He tied her other leg, th
en grabbed her arms and yanked them over her head.
Gripping both arms with one hand, he released the tie binding them together. Then, mindless of Martine's struggles to free herself, he grabbed her shirt, pulled it over her head, pulled it off one arm, then switched hands and pulled the shirt off her other arm and tossed it aside. Next he unfastened her bra and threw it after the shirt. Straddling her and pinning her arms, he removed first one and then the other arm from under his legs and tied her hands to the bedposts.
"There, now isn't that nice." He leaned back and clapped his hands. "We're going to have such a good time."
Martine's eyes widened in terror as Guthrie got up from the bed, crossed the room and brought a chair back to her bedside.
"First I want to tell you a story." He reached inside the drawer of the bedside table and took out a deck of Medicine Cards.
"I imagine, you being an Indian, you know how to read these." Guthrie removed a card and laid it on the bed. "The Snake," he said, then shook his head. "No. I've already used that one." He leered at Martine. "But, you know that don't you, my dear."
Martine held her breath.
"I think this one is for you." He took out the fox card and laid it beside the snake. "You didn't think I fell for your little teenager routine did you?" He stood up and leaned over Martine.
"I know all about you and that pretend-a-cop boyfriend of yours." He smiled his creepy smile and stepped back from the bed. "I need to lock the front door,” he said, “and then we'll have all night to get to know each other better."
Chapter Twelve
"I must be nuts letting you drag me away from my dinner table and out into this godforsaken rain on nothing more than one of your gut feelings." Mark Hanson grumbled as he and Jesse sped across the city in Jesse's jeep.
"You don't wish that any more than I do." Jesse spoke through gritted teeth. "I'll take a dressing down from you any day if we just find Martine safe and sound and this turns into a wild goose chase."