In Winter's Grip

by Brenda Chapman

  Even from the time I was a little girl, I hadn’t liked going into the basement by myself. It was nothing I could explain, except that it was the feeling of being below ground and trapped. I opened the basement door, clicked on the light and looked down the steep concrete steps. I realized I’d avoided going down there since I’d been in the house. The light bulb at the bottom of the stairs had burned out, and it crossed my mind to forget about the wine. I turned back to look at Jonas, who was putting on his parka.

  “I’ll just go start the car while you get the wine,” he said. “Where are your keys?”

  “In my jacket on the back of the chair. God, Jonas. It smells like something is rotting in the basement. Was Dad keeping meat down there?”

  “More mess to clean up,” Jonas sighed. “His freezer must be on the blink. I guess whatever has gone bad can wait one more day.”

  I looked back into the shadowy depths of the basement then closed my eyes and pictured the layout. My father’d panelled half of it as a rec room in knotty pine years ago and framed off the unfinished half, which held the furnace, freezer, washing machine and clothes dryer with two clothes lines strung across the ceiling. The wine rack was in a small, cooler pantry at the far end of the unfinished section. I decided quickly. I’d hold my breath, make a dash for the wine rack and be back upstairs in seconds flat. Hopefully there wouldn’t be too many cobwebs along the way. I had a real problem with the feel of them on my face. It was an irrational phobia that I should have outgrown but hadn’t.

  I took tentative steps down the dark stairwell, picking up speed as my eyes adjusted to the gloom. The smell got worse as I got closer to the bottom, and I put a hand over my mouth. By the time I reached the bottom step, dread had begun stealing up my legs and into my arms. It was all I could do to keep moving forward. I felt along the wall until my hand landed on the wall switch. The room jumped into light, and I looked left toward the finished section. The seating area looked much as I remembered it, two couches and a few recliners arranged around a flat screen television, which had to be new, and beige carpeting that I was certain was new, marking off the space. I turned my head right toward the doorway to the laundry room, and the smell got stronger and more putrid. I wanted to race back up the stairs, as far away from the disgusting air as I could get. Instead, I forced myself to cross the threshold into the laundry area, swallowing the bile that rose hot in my throat.

  I saw her body almost immediately, shoved between the freezer and washing machine like a pile of dirty laundry. Becky Wilders lying on her stomach, arms stiff at her sides, head turned to one side with a trickle of blood dried on her chin, her eyes wide open and staring into death. Her hair was matted and stained through with dark dried blood. I was a doctor, but this was the first time I had stumbled upon a murdered friend, and the shock of it was too much to take in. I crossed the short distance as if in a dream and kneeled beside her, reaching out a hand to feel for a pulse. The smell of rotting flesh was overwhelming, and I knew it was a futile gesture, but part of my mind could not accept that she was so brutally gone.

  She was wearing her winter coat, a navy knee length parka with a hood lined in fake fur, and black knee-high boots that looked oddly childlike on her tiny feet and slender legs, a red skirt visible where the coat twisted around her waist. I could imagine Becky picking out these clothes and trying them on, turning to study herself in front of a full length mirror, liking what she saw. The sadness of what had happened to her struck me like a blow to my heart, and I struggled to keep from sobbing. Becky would never be trying on clothes again or feeding Timmy Cheerios or breathing another breath. My stomach rolled then, and I stood to heave into the laundry sink, retching up my lunch until nothing more was left. I raised my head, swallowing the burning in my throat. I could hear Jonas walking across the kitchen floor overhead. He stopped at the head of the stairs and called down to me.

  “Maja! You coming?”

  I couldn’t let him see her this way. I swiped at my face with the back of my. “I’ll be right there!” I called and turned on the tap to rinse out my mouth and clean out the sink. I stumbled out of the laundry room, but I wasn’t quick enough. Jonas met me halfway down the stairs.

  “You look like you’ve seen a rat,” he said. “Phew! It does smell pretty bad down here. Did you find anything?”

  That’s when I should have lied. Instead, I remained silent, not trusting myself to speak. Jonas stared at me, and his face turned whiter than it was already. He tried to push past me, but I held my ground.

  “We have to call the police,” I said at last. “We shouldn’t go back down there. It’s not good, Jonas.”

  “What’s happened? Somebody’s dead, aren’t they?” His voice dropped to little more than a rasp. “Not Claire. . .?”

  “Becky,” I said, and the word was enough. Jonas loosened his grasp on my arm.

  “I should go see her,” he said, but I could tell he didn’t want to go any further into the cellar.

  “I don’t think we should disturb the scene. There’s nothing to be done for her. She’s been there...for quite some time.”

  Jonas nodded. He turned and climbed like an old man back up the stairs. I followed him, unable to erase the image of Becky’s lifeless eyes from my mind, wondering why my brother thought his wife was the one lying dead in our basement.

  Tobias was the first to arrive, quickly followed by David Keating and Chief Anders, paramedics from the hospital and lastly, the coroner, each greeting us quickly before descending into the basement. All the while, Jonas and I sat close to each other in the kitchen without talking. Jonas’s hands trembled whenever he ran them through his hair. Devastation lined his pale face. I made tea and forced a cup into his hand. He took a few sips before setting the cup down and letting the tea go cold.

  David emerged from the basement. He sat down across from Jonas next to me and pulled out a notebook. “Who found her?” he asked.

  I raised my head. “I did. Jonas was waiting for me outside while I went to get wine from the basement. I felt for a pulse, but that was all. I knew she was gone.”

  David’s eyes fixed on mine. “Blunt trauma to the head was likely the cause of death.”

  “Just like Dad,” Jonas said.

  “Looks much the same,” David agreed. He shifted his gaze to Jonas. “I know this must be hard for both of you, but if there’s anything you can tell us that would help..”

  “She must have been killed that night she never made it home. Did she die in our basement?” I asked. The thought that she’d been lying in the basement the whole time I was working upstairs was an awful thought.

  “I can’t say anything, Maja. It’s too early.”

  “Whoever broke in didn’t do any damage in the basement. If they had, we might have gone into the laundry room and found her when we were cleaning up.” I shuddered.

  “Don’t think about that now.”

  We gave the rest of our statements, which didn’t amount to much. David snapped his notebook shut and told us we could go home.

  “Who will tell Kevin?” I asked as I stood to put on my coat.

  Chief Anders entered the kitchen from the basement steps. He walked heavily towards us, his eyes rimmed in red as if he’d been crying. “Tobias will be heading over there now to break the news. This is an awful thing. An awful thing.” His head shook from side to side.

  I heard someone else climbing the stairs. If it was Tobias, I didn’t want to talk to him. I stood and grabbed my coat. “Coming, Jonas?” I asked. I nodded at Tobias, who’d made it into the kitchen as I opened the back door, and stepped outside into the fading afternoon light. He’d looked as devastated as Jonas. I could hear my brother saying goodbye as I fled down the steps toward the car.

  When Jonas slid in next to me, the car’s heater was blasting cold air, and I was shaking. He looked across at me and huddled deeper into his parka. “Let’s go to Hadrian’s. We could both do with a drink,” he said.

  “Are you sure yo
u’re up for it?”

  “I won’t be able to rest now.

  “Okay. I could do with something stronger than tea.”

  I navigated my car past the police cars and an ambulance with two paramedics in the act of lifting out a gurney as we put space between us and my father’s house. It would take some time before I could put the same space between us and the deaths that had happened there—three deaths counting my mother— three violent deaths in my parents’ house that could not be explained.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Entering Hadrian’s was like stepping into another world, one of music and laughter, colour and warmth. It seemed a lot of others had come in out of the cold to search out pre-dinner drinks, because there wasn’t a spare table to be found. Jonas and I snagged the last two stools at the bar. Hadrian had enlisted the help of a girl who looked too young to be serving alcohol. She had a cascade of black curls and a morose face that looked a lot like Hadrian’s.

  “Hi, Sarah,” Jonas said. “Two double Scotch on the rocks.”

  Sarah shifted the gum in her mouth to the opposite cheek and nodded as she chewed. Before long, she slid two tumblers in front of us and took Jonas’s money without comment. The first swallow hurt my raw throat, but it was a welcome pain. It beat the numbness that had stolen over my other senses. Hadrian was talking to Wayne Okwari at the other end of the bar. They both looked over at us, so I turned my head toward Jonas.

  “How long do you think before the town knows?”

  “They probably know already.”

  I nodded. Duved Cove’s grapevine had tendrils everywhere. I looked over Jonas’s shoulder and pointed. “Look. A table’s open.”

  “Let’s go.”

  Jonas grabbed both our drinks, and we made our way through the crowded room to the table near the gas fireplace, which was not turned on. The table was the same one we’d sat at the night before. We took seats elbow to elbow.

  “So how are you doing?” I asked. “You know, mixing alcohol and your medication probably isn’t the best idea.”

  “I’ll just have this one and then head home. Claire will be wondering where I am.”

  “Is everything all right between you and Claire?”

  “Is everything all right between you and Sam?”

  We looked at each other and smiled.

  “Okay. I see where this is heading,” I said. “Mutual confession time.”

  “Only if forced.”

  “Sam and I have seen better days. He’s been having an affair with someone at work. He doesn’t know that I know, and I’ve never let on.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I saw them together ,and there’ve been other signs. I’ve chosen not to confront him for reasons that seem unimportant now.”

  “Will you be able to work it through?”

  “I’m not sure. Since I’ve been back here, I’ve started questioning if I even want to. It’s been good in a way, having people see me as Maja Larson and not Maja Cleary.”

  “What was wrong with Maja Cleary?”

  “She got lost in the shuffle. I’m not even sure how or when it happened.” Misery filled me, and I took a drink from my glass. I didn’t want to think about it any more deeply. I cleared my throat. “And you?” I asked.

  Jonas sighed. “Claire’s tired of living in Duved Cove. Has been for a long time. My bouts of depression haven’t helped.”

  “Do you think it’s affecting Gunnar?”

  “I’m sure it has. If you haven’t noticed, Claire is overly protective and not adjusting to the fact that he’s becoming a teenager. I’ve given up trying to intercede.”

  “That isn’t good, Jonas.”

  “I know, but in some things with Claire, I have no say. That’s just the way it is.”

  I wanted to ask about Claire’s relationship with our father, but now was not the time. There might never be a right time, and perhaps there was no need to even discuss it. Jonas was the one to bring up Becky, the subject we’d been avoiding since we sat down.

  “Becky never forgave me for picking Claire over her. We were on friendlier terms the last few years, but Becky sleeping with Dad wasn’t easy to digest. I never let on to Becky that I knew.”

  “Who told you? Dad?”

  “No, although he hinted enough. It was actually Claire who made the big announcement in one of our fights. She wanted to hurt me because she thought I still cared for Becky.”

  “And did you?”

  “Not the way Claire thought. I made my choice in high school, and I never regretted it.”

  “Did you ever bring up the subject of Becky to Dad?”

  Jonas grunted. “I wouldn’t give the old bastard the satisfaction.”

  “We should probably go,” I said.

  Jonas shook his head. “No need. Claire will figure out where we are, and I don’t think going home will make either one of us feel any better.”

  We ordered two more drinks—another double Scotch for me and a ginger ale for Jonas. I felt the effects of the first drink. It was nice to feel the sharp edges of grief slipping away. Still, I had to keep some of my wits about me, so I ordered a plate of cheese and salsa-covered nachos. I considered what it could mean that Claire still hated Becky.

  People came and went. We overheard people talking about the murdered woman found in our father’s house. They looked at us as they talked, but nobody came over to our table. It was as if we had a “do not approach” sign flashing over our heads. Hadrian put on a tape of Scottish ballads and turned up the volume. Another round of drinks arrived, compliments of Hadrian. He waved at us from across the bar.

  “I’m thinking you might need to drive us home, Jonas,” I said.

  “No problem. We got all night.”

  The phone rang at the bar, and Hadrian stood speaking into the receiver with one hand over his other ear. He dropped the receiver and came over to our table. His eyes were question marks but he kept his voice neutral.

  “Claire wants you to come home,” he said to Jonas. “Sounded kind of upset.”

  “Sure thing,” Jonas said. After Hadrian was out of earshot, he added, “She must have heard about Becky. You stay and finish your drink.”

  Jonas had just pushed himself to his feet when the front door of the bar opened. I looked over my shoulder and saw Tobias standing in the entranceway. He surveyed the room until he met my eyes. Then he started walking in our direction.

  “Hey, Tobias,” I said as he sat across from me. “Jonas is just heading home to see Claire.” I fished in my pocket and handed Jonas my keys.

  “I’ll bring Maja home if she wants to finish her drink,” Tobias said to Jonas.

  I looked at my empty glass and the full one next to it on the table in front of me. No wonder I wasn’t as upset as normal at Tobias’s presence. Jonas was looking tired again, and I nodded. “I’ll get a lift with Tobias. You go home and rest.”

  “See you back at the house then,” Jonas said. He patted my shoulder before he weaved his way through the tables to the door.

  Tobias went to the bar to order a drink while I sat and contemplated life. He was back before I noticed, carrying a cup of coffee and a big bag of chips.

  “Still on duty?”

  “Yeah, still on duty.”

  “You told Kevin. . .?”

  “Yup. It went about as you’d expect.”

  “He obviously had no idea what had happened to her.”

  “Obviously. The man’s in shock, as near as I can tell.”

  “Do you have any leads?”

  “Now, you know I can’t talk about that, Maja.” We were silent for a bit. Then, Tobias said, “Are there any leads you’d care to give me?”

  “None that I can think of.”

  “Damn. I can’t say any of this is adding up.”

  We sat nursing our drinks and munching on chips. I noticed the other patrons stealing looks our way but trying to be subtle about their interest.

  “Was the door locked when you and Jonas ar
rived today?”

  “I think so, but maybe not. We never used to lock it but have been now that it’s vacant most of the time.”

  Jonas tilted his head. “The thing is, somebody killed her at a different location and placed her body in your laundry room. We found her car in the back of the hospital parking lot behind the dumpster.”

  “So she was either abducted or she trusted her killer enough to take a ride with them.”

  Tobias’s eyes were fixed on mine. “I also have to wonder if the method of death for Becky and your father was a coincidence.”

  “Was Becky hit with a shovel?”

  “Not sure. We’re sending her body to the forensic lab in Duluth for testing, and we’ll know more in a day or so.”

  Another few days. It was going to be impossible to make Sam’s trip. The distance between us felt like a fresh sprain that I didn’t want to put much pressure on just yet.

  Tobias looked past me to the bar and nodded. I turned in time to see Wayne Okwari motion with his head toward the washrooms. I turned back around, and Tobias appeared to be studying his coffee cup with curious interest. After he’d eaten the last of his chips, he said, “If you’ll excuse me for a minute, I’m hearing the call of nature.”

  “A call you should always answer,” I said. I watched him thread a path quickly between the tables toward the washroom. It couldn’t be a coincidence that Wayne Okwari had disappeared in the same direction moments before.

  When Tobias returned a few minutes later, I already had my coat on and was waiting by the door. He grabbed his parka and followed me out into the parking lot.

  “The temperature has dropped again,” I said, blowing a plume of white frost in front of me as I talked.

  “My car’ll heat up fast.”

  Tobias opened my door first and shut it behind me. I shivered as the cold from the seat penetrated my pants and coat. Tobias let in another blast of winter air when he slid into the driver’s side. He started the engine and turned on the headlights, then he rubbed his gloves together. “Damn, but it’s one cold night. I think there are icicles on the icicles. You and Stan have it warmer up there in Ott ee wa?”