Cold Mourning

by Brenda Chapman

  “The person who told me isn’t important.”

  “I guess you’re right.” He sighed and stretched out his legs, then took a drink of coffee all the while watching her. “I met Laurel at university. She worked in the admin office. I thought I’d never seen a woman so beautiful but I didn’t think about approaching her. I was a few years younger and she was out of my league. She actually introduced herself to me at the university pub one evening and we hit it off. I asked her out the next day, and we dated my senior year. I brought her home in the summer to meet my family after we got engaged. My father offered her a job, which she took. A few months later, she called off our engagement for no reason that I could understand. I found out why a few months later when she moved in with my father, who’d not so coincidently moved out of our family home into an apartment downtown.”

  “Do you blame Laurel for ending your parents’ marriage?” Kala was still fishing for a reaction. He’d told the story as if it was about somebody else.

  “I’ve thought about it recently with my father coming around to see me and asking to make amends. I think if it hadn’t been for Laurel, he would still be married to my mother, or if he hadn’t died that is. Laurel was the catalyst.”

  “So your mother and father had a good relationship before Laurel?”

  “I’d say yes. They were comfortable with each other and always said they were in it for the long haul. They’d been together since high school.”

  “You must have taken Laurel’s defection hard.”

  “I distanced myself from her and my father and soon got over it. I was blinded by her but came to realize that we didn’t have anything in common. It wouldn’t have been a good marriage.”

  “You say that like you’re certain.”

  “Because I am. Laurel definitely is not my soul mate.” He looked directly into her eyes. “You know how it is when you meet somebody and know right away that you fit? There’s just something about them that feels like coming home. It wasn’t that way with me and Laurel. I was infatuated and mistook it for something deeper.”

  Kala broke his stare and looked past him out the window. The depth of his gaze was disconcerting. Maybe he’d meant it to be. “Your mother and Geraldine. How did they take your father marrying Laurel?”

  “About as you’d expect. My mother was a wreck for a few years. I think in hindsight that she had a breakdown, but we didn’t recognize it then. She started seeing a counsellor and that helped her to recover her equilibrium. It also helped that Geraldine and I sided with her, and of course her best friend Susan was always there. Geraldine forgave our father after a little time passed and they’ve stayed close. He was excited that she was having a baby.” Hunter smiled and spread his hands wide, “I didn’t want to hear about my father at all, but Geraldine wouldn’t give up. She kept telling me things and it got so I looked forward to her updates. When Dad asked to see me at the beginning of the month, I was ready to see him. More coffee?”

  Kala looked down at her empty cup. “No, I need to get moving.” She began packing up her notebook and began to stand. She stopped partway and sat back down as if she’d thought of one last question. It was the question she’d wanted to ask all along. “What was Laurel doing here this morning?”

  Hunter grimaced. “I thought you might have seen her leaving.”

  “I’m finding it odd that I keep finding the two of you together.”

  Hunter stood up and crossed to the stove to refill his coffee cup. With his back to her, he said, “I didn’t conspire with Laurel to kill my father. She drove here to tell me that there wasn’t going to be a service. Dad wanted to be cremated with just his family to accompany his ashes to the vault. She wants me to organize Geraldine and Max, my mother, and Susan and Clinton.”

  “She could have phoned.”

  “Anybody who knows me knows that I rarely answer. I like my solitude.”

  His explanation was weak, just like the one about parking his Jeep far away from Laurel’s driveway. Kala got up and walked to the front door. She bent to put on her boots and he stood leaning against the wall. When she straightened, Hunter was next to her. He waited until she was looking at him.

  “I’m not involved with Laurel. If you start thinking that he was murdered because we wanted to get rid of him so we could be together, you are going entirely in the wrong direction.”

  Kala zipped up her jacket and opened the door. She turned to him before she stepped outside. “Perhaps you weren’t involved, but I’ve only known you a little while and I have the impression that something is going on between you two. I wonder how many others thought the same, even if it’s not true as you allege.”

  Rouleau looked across the table at J.P. Belliveau. His face was a purplish-red in the glaring fluorescent light of the interview room. He’d refused coffee or water and at the moment was glaring at Grayson, who was tinkering with the recording device in preparation for the interview. Rouleau leaned back in his chair and looked at the ceiling. This was Grayson’s show.

  “Let’s begin,” said Grayson. He leaned into the microphone and named the people in the room, date, and time. Malik sat next to him ready to play good cop if needed. “How long were you and Tom Underwood business partners?”

  “Going on twenty-five years. We built the business together. If I’d wanted to off him, I wouldn’t have waited so long.”

  “For the record, we’re not suggesting you killed him at this time.”

  “Good to know.” J.P.’s eyes let them know he didn’t believe it.

  “What was Underwood working on when he died?”

  “He was setting up a contract with an engineer in Montreal to test a design with an eye to manufacturing a vehicle that could withstand land mines. He was getting the contract ready to send the day he died.”

  “Who takes over the file?”

  J.P.’s eyes narrowed. “Max Oliver. He’s leaving for Montreal as I speak to reassure the client and work on getting the contract signed. You can’t seriously think Max or I had anything to do with this. We needed Tom. He was our closer.”

  “So you keep saying, but it looks like you’ve managed to carry on without him.” Grayson paused and looked down at his notes. “Did you know that Tom Underwood was planning on getting out of the business?”

  “Who told you that?” J.P. looked at Grayson, but when he didn’t respond, J.P. shrugged. “Tom mentioned a few times over the past year that he was tired and considering a career change. The problem was he had an expensive young wife and kid to worry about and a certain lifestyle to maintain. I don’t know where else he’d make the kind of money he was making in our firm. He wasn’t serious.”

  “What would have happened if he was?” Rouleau interjected.

  J.P. took his time answering. “From what I know about Laurel, she might have taken the kid and left him. She’d fight him for a big chunk of change. He couldn’t afford that drop in fortune.”

  “That doesn’t say much for his marriage,” said Rouleau.

  J.P. let out a harsh laugh. “Anybody with eyes could see that she was just sticking around for the money. He had a lawyer come by to discuss a separation. His concern was having the kid half-time.”

  “You know this for a fact?” Grayson asked.

  “Yeah. I was there a few weeks ago when this woman in a fancy suit showed up asking for Mr. Underwood. I told her that he got called away and asked if I could help. She asked that he call her to set up another time later in the afternoon because she had to be in court. She left her card. It said ‘Sandra Woosley, divorce lawyer,’ plain as day. I asked Tom about it when I passed on the message and he said he was investigating his options.”

  “You never mentioned this before.”

  “You never accused me of killing my partner before.”

  “For the record, we have not accused you of killing anyone. So that would fit in with Tom deciding to leave the business,” said Grayson. “Ditch his wife and make a lifestyle change.”

 
; “You might think so,” agreed J.P., “except that after Tom spoke to the lawyer, we went out for a beer and he told me that he’d decided to get a few things in order before he made a move. He told me the best thing he could do was hire a hit man and be done with her. He said it all jokey like, but with everything that’s happened, I wonder if she got to the hit man first.”

  21

  Tuesday, December 27, 11:30 a.m.

  Kala took Rouleau’s phone call on her way back into the city. She was to interview Geraldine in Kanata before coming into the station. She pulled over and took down the address and directions.

  “I know it’s a stat holiday so take the rest of the afternoon off,” Rouleau said before hanging up. “Fill in your reports tomorrow.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she answered into the dial tone.

  She merged onto the Queensway and continued past downtown taking the split toward Kanata. She took the March Road exit and turned left on Campeau Drive and right on Knudson, past the Kanata Golf and Country Club to Goulding Crescent — a road that circled around eight large detached houses with tiny front yards and garages sticking out toward the street like eyesores.

  She found the house number and pulled into the empty driveway. It looked like nobody was home, but she rang the bell a few times anyway before returning to her truck. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel and thought about her next move. It was a long way to head back downtown and return. Better to grab some lunch and try again in an hour or so.

  She backtracked to Campeau Drive and followed it south until it crossed another major road. It didn’t take her long to find a commercial area and a diner that was open on the holiday. She was one of five customers.

  She took a table near the window and ordered coffee and the full breakfast special. While she waited for her food to arrive, she pulled out a file she’d been keeping on the investigation. She jotted down notes about her encounter with Hunter. The fried eggs, hash browns, sausage, and toast arrived before she’d gotten through the first paragraph. She loaded the food with ketchup and ate quickly, cleaning her plate with the last of the toast. The waitress returned to clear her plate and Kala asked for a coffee refill. There was lots of time to finish her notes and to reread Hunter’s previous interview before she set out to try his sister again. She’d give Geraldine an hour at least to return home from wherever she’d gone. In all likelihood, there was a family gathering somewhere and she’d have to wait until the next day to see Geraldine, but she’d give it one last try.

  When she returned to Goulding Crescent, a van was parked in Geraldine’s driveway. Kala left her truck on the street and walked toward the house. She peeled off a glove and felt the hood of the van. It was still warm from its trip home.

  Geraldine took a while to answer the door, but Kala could see that Geraldine recognized her.

  “Sorry to bother you on a holiday, but I wonder if you have a few minutes to talk?” She took a step back as Geraldine swung the door open further. “I guess you know by now that I’m with the police.”

  “Sure, why not? Come on in.”

  “Is your husband at home?” Kala asked before stooping to pull off her boots.

  “No, Max is working.”

  They sat in the family room off the kitchen. Geraldine offered tea but Kala declined. She’d drunk enough coffee at the diner to keep her buzzing the rest of the day.

  “This is a nice room,” said Kala, looking around. The mid-afternoon sun warmed the wood panelling around the fireplace and gave the Persian carpet a golden hue. They sat on a leather couch with aqua satin cushions.

  Geraldine’s eyes swept around the room and back to Kala. “This is where I do all my thinking. I’d light a fire, but the wood is in the basement and it would take a while.”

  “Don’t trouble yourself,” said Kala. “Are you up to telling me what you know about the evening of the party?” She took out her notebook and pen. She added, “I know this has been difficult for you.”

  Geraldine wrapped both arms around her bulging stomach. “It’s been a nightmare. I’ll tell you what I know though. I want you to find who did this and send them away forever.”

  “How did you father appear the last time you saw him?”

  “My father hadn’t seemed like himself for a few months. He was distracted and unhappy with work. He’d become distant.”

  “Do you have any idea what was bothering him?”

  Geraldine shook her head. “Perhaps the contract he was working on. The rest, I shouldn’t say.”

  “The rest?”

  “Well, I have no proof.”

  “It’s okay to share your thoughts with me. They could give me avenues to pursue.”

  Geraldine squirmed in her seat, trying to get comfortable. She hesitated before saying, “My father wanted out of his marriage with Laurel. He’d known for some time that it was a mistake.”

  “Did he tell you this?”

  “About a month ago, he told me that he wished he could go back and redo some of the decisions he’d made. He didn’t say his marriage exactly, but I know it’s what he meant.”

  “How can you be certain?”

  “Afterwards, he said that regardless of his bad decisions, he wouldn’t change Charlotte’s birth for anything. It wasn’t a day or two later that he went to visit Hunter. I know he was also seeing my mother more often. She … seemed hopeful that they would be back together.”

  “Even after all this time?”

  “She never stopped thinking of him as her husband. They were high school sweethearts and more suited than he and Laurel could ever be.”

  “What about his business? Did he get along with his partner?”

  “J.P.? I couldn’t say.”

  “Your husband Max has taken over your dad’s files.”

  “So he tells me.”

  “How long has Max worked at your father’s company?”

  Geraldine’s eyes slid away from Kala’s. “Right after university. About six years. Benny Goldstone was a friend of his from university and Max eventually brought him into the company as his assistant.”

  “Did Max and your father get along?”

  “To be honest, I don’t think my father thought Max was the right man for me. Dad tried to get along with him though because he loved me and wanted …” Geraldine’s voice broke and she lowered her head. “I’m sorry. This is just so difficult. The doctor told me not to get upset because of the baby. I’m trying to stop thinking about how my dad died.”

  “I understand. I have just one more question. You mentioned that your father and Hunter were on speaking terms. How did Hunter feel about having your dad back in his life after not speaking for so many years?”

  “I think he wanted a relationship. He’d realized long before that Dad did him a favour marrying Laurel. Hunter deserves better.”

  “You think highly of him.”

  “He’s the only one who’s been able to leave and lead his own life. My father and Laurel couldn’t hurt him anymore. He had no reason to want my father dead.”

  Kala studied Geraldine’s head, tilted to the left so that her eyes were fixed on something outside the window. She sounded sincere, but Kala would have been much happier if Geraldine had turned to face her when insisting on her brother’s innocence. It was a lot more difficult for someone to lie when they were looking you in the eye.

  Rouleau hung up the phone and walked toward the fax machine in the outer office. Grayson was working at his computer, but everyone else had gone home early.

  “Any luck?” asked Grayson without looking up.

  “Yeah. The lawyer’s sending a copy of the will from a secure server.”

  The machine whirred into action and six sheets of legalese appeared in the tray. Rouleau picked them up and skimmed their contents, having already gotten the highlights from Tom Underwood’s lawyer. He crossed the floor toward Grayson’s desk and sat down in Malik’s chair. He spread the papers on the desk and reread the key paragraphs.

&nbs
p; “So?” asked Grayson. “Anything worth killing for?”

  “Depends how badly somebody wanted their money. Underwood gave his kids Hunter and Geraldine each a million and put another million in trust for his youngest. He left his ex-wife Pauline two million and his current wife Laurel two million as well as the house and contents and stock options in his company.”

  “That’s crazy he left so much to his ex.”

  “And to Hunter. They’d only spoken once in ten years. When I talked with Underwood’s lawyer, he said that Underwood revised his will a month ago. Before that, Laurel got most of the money. He upped what he left the kids and added Pauline.”

  “Two million.” Grayson whistled. “If I was his current wife, I wouldn’t be too happy about that.”

  “No,” said Rouleau. “I don’t imagine any woman would.” He stood and stretched. “Any plans for the evening?”

  “I’ve got a date and should push off. What about you?”

  “Home to leftovers and a movie.”

  “Too bad I made this date or we could have gone out for a bite.”

  “I don’t mind a night in. Go enjoy your evening. I’ll put these papers away and will be right behind you.”

  “Night then,” said Grayson. He turned off his computer and reached for his coat.

  Rouleau returned to his office and sorted through the papers on his desk. His phone rang as he was locking the filing cabinet. A number flashed on the screen that he didn’t recognize, and his first thought was to let the answering machine take a message. Then he remembered that Stonechild was on her own, interviewing the daughter, and he had no idea of her number. He picked up. “Rouleau here.”

  “Jacques, it’s Frances. I almost didn’t recognize your voice.”

  She’d surprised him twice in one week. He looked out the window. The lower half of the glass was patterned in frost and blurred his view of the buildings across the street. What he could see of the sky had darkened into early evening.

  “How are you, Frances?”

  “Not too bad. I wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas. Did you make the trip to Kingston?”