A Hummingbird Dance

by Garry Ryan

  “Drama queen.” Aidan leaned against the wall, unimpressed.

  “Drag king.” Alex sighed. “How many times do we have to go over this?”

  Aidan looked thoughtful. “Until we leave no doubt in their minds that we’re real, that this is real, and what happened to you was real. That’s when we’ll be ready.”

  “Of course we’re real. Just because I’m dead doesn’t mean I’m a ghost!”

  “That’s what the audience needs to understand. As long as we’re here, on this stage, we have to be real in their minds. Then they’ll understand.” Aidan leaned away from the wall.

  “Understand what?”

  “If you don’t know, how the hell will they?” Aidan’s voice was so jammed full of emotion that Alex stumbled back as if struck by the force of it.

  “Quit playing the drama queen and get on with your story!” Aidan put her fists on her hips. “You say all of this,” in one graceful sweep, her hand travelled from left to right, “will help me deal with what happened. So, put your considerable dramatic talent to good use and prove it!”

  chapter 12

  TUESDAY, JULY 9

  Kuldeep put coffee and sandwiches in front of Lane and Harper. Lane looked out the window and thought, It looks and smells like rain. The sky was a dark purple-grey.

  “So, what have we got? I mean do we start from square one, close the case or pick up somewhere in the middle?” Harper lifted his sandwich and took a bite.

  “Once we get Fibre’s autopsy report, then we’ll have a better idea. I still think we’ve got another shooter. There’s no way I made that shot.” Lane took a sip of coffee and felt the warmth travelling into his belly. He took another drink.

  Harper spoke from behind his hand. “You’re forgetting the ricochet that hit you. If it could happen once to you at Eva’s, it could happen again to Blake.”

  “That’s not it. A nine millimetre bullet would make a bigger entrance wound and there would probably be an exit wound in Blake’s skull. In all probability, the bullet that hit Blake was of a smaller calibre.”

  Harper smiled. “You’re starting to sound all analytical like me.”

  Lane laughed. “You still going to the rodeo?”

  “I’ve been told by Erinn and Glenn that I have to be there. What’s it like? I mean, I’ve never been.” Harper looked out the window. The first wind-driven rain was sliding down the glass.

  “It’s … I don’t know. You have to be there. It’s outrageous, fun, irreverent, real.” Lane lifted his hands away from the coffee cup and shrugged.

  “Kind of like Arthur?”

  “Kind of.” Lane thought about Arthur, how he’d been coping alone with two teens, and whether or not their relationship would survive the experience. And how will I make things right with Matt? “When does Fibre think the initial findings of the medical examiner will be ready?”

  “Today.”

  Lane said, “And I have to see my doctor today.”

  Three hours later, Lane visited Dr. Keeler’s office. Lane’s doctor was an invaluable source for almost all things medical. In the past, his keen mind had revealed pivotal information to Lane. Harper waited a block away in a coffee shop on Fourth Avenue.

  Dr. Keeler’s nurse, Mavis, fussed over Lane as soon as she spotted him in the waiting room. She picked up his chart, looked over top of the manila folder and glared. “Lane. You’re next.”

  Lane felt as inconsequential as he always did when he stood next to her. She towered over him, wore nothing but white, outweighed him by fifty pounds, and could clean up the floor with him if the notion ever took hold of her. “Good to see you again, Mavis.” He followed her down the hallway lined with examination rooms. She opened the last door on the right and let him in first, then she stood in the doorway.

  “You didn’t follow his advice to take some time off work, did you?” Mavis could sound like the voice of doom. Today was getting pretty close to Armageddon.

  “We’re in the middle of a homicide investigation.” Lane thought, It sounds like I’m whining.

  Mavis put her hands on her hips and glared. “Just be glad I’m not taking those stitches out! You need to take better care of yourself! Was that you who was shot at yesterday?”

  Lane went to answer and decided against it.

  “So it was you!” Mavis pointed her finger at him.

  “Yes.” Lane looked at the carpet. It was industrial blue grey.

  “What happens to Arthur and Matt if you don’t come home? They’ve both been through enough this last year!”

  “Don’t forget Christine,” Lane said without thinking. Oh no! Now Mavis will really let me have it! he thought.

  “Christine? Who’s she?” Mavis’ eyes targeted Lane.

  “My niece. She just arrived.”

  “How did you end up with two kids?” Mavis’ tone softened.

  “She just arrived on our doorstep like Matt did.” Lane looked at Mavis’ green eyes, knew he had touched her soft spot, and realized he was not above taking advantage.

  “You took her in, just like that?” She crossed her arms.

  “Christine had no place else to go. They excommunicated her.”

  “Who’s they?” Mavis’ voice rose again.

  “The guys running Paradise.” Lane sat down in the chair and began unlacing his shoes.

  “You mean that polygamist community south of here?” Mavis looked sideways at him.

  “That’s the one.” Lane took his socks off.

  “Sounds like your niece was lucky to get thrown out.”

  Lane looked up at Mavis. “I hope so.”

  “And now you’ve got two kids who need you at home. So, take better care of yourself!” Mavis slammed the door behind her.

  And I thought talking about Christine was calming her down. Lane stripped down to his underwear and stood next to the examination table.

  Dr. Keeler walked in. After closing the door, he looked at the chart and then at Lane. “How are you?” Keeler held out his hand.

  Lane shook it. “Better.”

  “What was Mavis upset about?” Keeler studied Lane’s reactions.

  He’s getting grey, Lane thought. And he’s put on a bit of weight. “She was just looking out for me.”

  “You mean you’re back at work?” Keeler crossed his arms across the chart held against his chest.

  “That’s right.” Lane waited for the second eruption.

  “This is related to the deaths of the four guys who lived west of town?” Keeler put the chart down next to the sink and sat in the chair.

  “Actually it may have been five.” Lane reached around with his right hand and scratched his left shoulder.

  “Really? Would you get on your belly, and I’ll take a look at how your wound is healing.”

  Lane eased onto his stomach. The cold from the black vinyl beneath the paper sheet gave him goose bumps. “On the first and second anniversaries of a seventeen-year-old’s death, two young men disappeared.”

  Keeler eased Lane’s underwear down. “No infection. the bruising is vivid. There’s a rainbow of yellows, purples, and greens here. So, you think the first death, that of the seventeen-year-old, is related to the disappearances?”

  “It’s a distinct possibility.” Lane gritted his teeth as Keeler used his fingers to prod a tender spot next to the wound.

  “I’ve been following the case and I was wondering.” Keeler moved to the sink and washed his hands. “There might be two killers.”

  Lane looked at Keeler. “How do you come to that conclusion?”

  “One’s very discreet and patient. The victims disappear on a specific date and are yet to be found. The other is especially violent. A body is found very quickly, if not immediately. The murders don’t appear to follow the same pattern.”

  Lane thought, It’s possible.

  “Mavis will be right in.” Keeler made for the door.

  “Why Mavis?” Lane raised up on his elbows.

  “Next tim
e, do as we tell you. Take some time off.” Keeler shut the door.

  A minute later, Mavis opened the door. She carried a tray covered with a cloth. She pulled two surgical gloves from a package. “I’m back.”

  Harper was waiting with a cup of coffee when Lane returned to the waiting room.

  In the elevator, Harper said, “You look a little worse for wear.”

  “Actually, it wasn’t all bad.” His phone rang. He reached into his pocket and flipped open his cell. “Lane.”

  The voice was toneless, “Dr. Colin Weaver here.”

  Lane looked at Harper and mouthed, “Fibre.” Lane kept his tone even. “Do you have some information to share?”

  “Yes.” Weaver’s tone seldom varied from monotone.

  Lane waited. The silence stretched out like summer honey. “Well?”

  “There were several significant findings.” Weaver took a long breath.

  “Could I have them in order, please?” Lane rolled his eyes. Harper smiled.

  “Most significant to least?” Fibre asked.

  “Certainly.”

  Fibre continued without taking a breath. “Mr. Blake Rogers died from a single gunshot wound. The bullet entered the left ear canal. Death was instantaneous. The bullet was .22 calibre. It has still to be inspected by a ballistics expert but initial findings, and I’m quite confident here, are that the bullet matches the one taken from the scene where you were wounded.” Fibre took a breath. “Also, the bullets from the rifle in Mr. Blake Rogers’ possession fired bullets of the same calibre found several days ago at his house. Again the match has to be verified by ballistics, and again I’m confident they are, in fact, identical.” Fibre took another breath. “The indentation in the dog’s skull matches the bat found with the body. The indentation found in Skip Lombardi’s skull was also similar. Blood and tissue was found on the bat. We are now attempting to find DNA matches for these samples. Results will be made available to you as soon as they become available to us.”

  “So you’re saying that the bat used to kill the dog may be the same weapon used to kill Lombardi?” Lane asked.

  “As of yet, I cannot confirm that finding. It is, however, a distinct possibility.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate your call.” Lane waited for Fibre to hang up.

  “So, what did Fibre have to say?” Harper handed Lane the cup of coffee as they exited the elevator.

  “The same thing my doctor said, actually.” Lane took a sip and closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of the coffee on the inside and, as they stepped out the door, the sun on the outside.

  “It looks like we’ve got more than one killer. Fibre’s almost certain that the bullet they took out of me is a match for the one that killed Blake.” Lane looked across the street at the two-storey homes lined up cheek to cheek. He took another sip of coffee and tasted the chocolate. “And they’re checking out the bat that was buried with Rosco.”

  “DNAX?” Harper walked to the Chev and opened the driver’s door.

  “Yes. It’ll take a day or two.” Lane opened the passenger door. That new car smell reached his nostrils. “Should we take a drive out west and see if we can get another new car tomorrow?” Lane regretted the joke when he saw Harper shudder from a flashback.

  Alex the marionette sat in a chair across from Aidan. Up top, above the marionettes, Aidan wore a royal blue silk western-cut shirt and a pair of black jodhpurs. Her tan riding boots reached just below the knee. She wore a black ball cap. Aidan’s marionette was dressed exactly the same.

  Alex said, “The problem is with what happens to you after the show. More than a few people aren’t gonna be happy with what you have to say. And we both know what can happen when you take a stand. Eva took a stand. Look what happened to me!”

  Aidan put her hand on his shoulder. She pushed back her ball cap and used her worst cowboy accent to say, “Y’all know a drag king does what a drag king’s got to do.”

  Alex raised his head and smiled. “So, you want me to saddle up, do ya?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Remember what happened the last time I rode a horse? It took the high side of the ditch and brushed up against a tree. When I leaned away, the saddle slipped and I ended up at the bottom of the ditch with my face up against a beer can.”

  “You survived,” Aidan said.

  “Yes, that time I did. And that’s my point. I died in a ditch. I don’t want the same thing happening to you.”

  “Blake’s dead,” Aidan said.

  Alex laughed. “You just don’t get it. There’s always another Blake around. All you have to do is wait at the side of the highway, and he or she’ll be along before too long.”

  “If I don’t do this, it will be like I backed away from what happened to you. Like I let you and Eva down.” Aidan looked off-stage.

  “Just don’t get yourself killed over it. My grand-mother’s not as strong as she looks.”

  Lane noted there was a lull in traffic at the gas station. Harper reversed into a parking stall and they got out. Through the glass they could see the young woman with black hair watching them from the other side.

  “Think she remembers us?” Harper opened the door for Lane.

  Inside, they heard the hum of fridges and air conditioning. Lane saw that Kelsey wore a short-sleeved shirt. He wondered how she handled the cold. On the wall was the poster of a cowboy posing with a rifle. The caption: Keep your city out of my country.

  “Do you have a couple of minutes for a question or two?” Harper asked.

  Kelsey turned white. “Has someone else been shot? People around here are still pretty upset.”

  “No. We just wanted to clarify what happened the day of the shooting at Blake Rogers’ acreage.” Harper stepped no closer to her.

  “Okay.” Kelsey sat on a stool behind the counter. She crossed her arms under her breasts.

  “Who arrived first?” Lane asked.

  “Eva. She and Norm drove up in her pickup. They were on their way back from getting groceries. The truck’s box was filled with bags of food. Norm doesn’t drive. Can’t. Eva takes him into town when he needs food or clothes. She’s been taking care of him since Norm’s mom died. Norm got out of the truck to fill it with gas.”

  “Eva takes care of Norm?” Harper leaned against the window of a cooler filled with soft drinks.

  “For the last few years she has. Norm’s kind of slow. Somethin’ happened to him when he was a kid. Eva and Norm’s mom were friends. The story is that Eva promised to look out for him when Norm’s mom got sick. That’s why he helps her with sweat lodges.”

  “Does he live with her?” Harper asked.

  “Nope. He has a little place of his own. Far as I know, only Aidan lives with Eva now.” Kelsey glanced to her left as a truck pulled up to the pumps.

  “Aidan?” Lane watched Kelsey as she leaned over and activated the pump.

  “Yep. Aidan and Alex were friends. Aidan was there when he was killed. Aidan’s lived with Eva ever since her parents moved to Australia or something. Haven’t seen Aidan around for a week or two. Every anniversary is hard on her. She got arrested one year. Rumour is she’s cookin’ up something special for this anniversary.” Kelsey watched the driver fill up his truck.

  “Like what?” Lane watched Kelsey’s eyes.

  “Some kind of theatre or something. She was workin’ on it all winter but not talkin’ about it much. She used to fill up on her way in or out of town. She was always haulin’ paint or wood or fabric. Stuff like that. Whenever I asked what she was up to, she’d say, ‘Come and see the show’.”

  “Is there anything else you remember?” Harper asked.

  “Everybody figured it was Blake who ran Alex down. There was bad blood between Blake’s family and Eva. He was always shootin’ his mouth off about how he wished Alberta would become a republic so there’d be no more land claims. He said Eva was just a freeloader who didn’t work and got paid for stayin’ at home. I used to laugh when he said that
. Nobody around here could ever remember Blake havin’ a job. Instead, he was always tryin’ to act macho. Everybody knew he was a real head case. The problem was, after Alex died, nobody could prove Blake had somethin’ to do with the killing, and no one who lived with Blake was talkin’.” Kelsey looked out the window. The driver of the pickup finished filling one tank and started on the next.

  Lane looked at Harper.

  “It’s startin’ to get busy here.” Kelsey nodded out the window.

  A motor home and a minivan pulled up to the pumps.

  “We’re done for now. Thanks,” Harper said.

  “Do you know where Norm lives?” Lane asked.

  “Close to Eva’s.” Kelsey activated two more pumps.

  “Thanks.” Lane held the door open for Harper.

  Once inside the car, Lane said, “Refresh my memory about Aidan.”

  “I met her when you were in the sweat lodge. Norm and I helped load up the stuff for her show.” Harper turned the key.

  “Stuff?” Lane put on his seatbelt.

  Harper shifted into drive and pulled out. “She has marionettes and some kind of set she’s built. It’s really beautiful woodwork. She’s got talent. And, she’s got an attitude.”

  “There’s a lot of that going around.” Lane thought, Sounds just like Christine and Matt.

  “Trouble at home?” Harper asked.

  “Matt says I haven’t been paying enough attention to him.”

  “That’s good news.” Harper smiled.

  “How’s that?” Lane asked.

  “He wants you to spend more time with him instead of not wanting you around at all.”

  It took fifteen minutes to drive to Eva’s place. For the last three minutes, they were guided by a column of white smoke rising to about three hundred metres into a cloudless sky where the smoke was flattened by an upper-level wind out of the west.

  Harper cautiously entered Eva’s yard. Eva and Norm sat in lawn chairs drinking coffee and watching the fire, which was situated about ten metres south of the sweat lodge.

  Harper circled the yard and pointed the nose of the Chev toward the lane leading out of the yard and back to the main road.