Cold Mourning
Page 30
“I’m handing in my resignation tonight,” he said. “I’ve accepted a job in the homicide unit in Kingston. They have another opening, if you’re interested.”
She felt a jolt through her stomach. “Is it because of Pauline Underwood’s death? Because if it was …”
He interrupted her. “No. I’ve been thinking about this for a while. My father lives in Kingston, as you know, and I want to spend more time with him. I also want to get back into the field. That’s where I feel the most at home.”
“What will happen to this unit?”
“I’m recommending Grayson take it over. He has his faults, but he’s a good detective. He’s agreed that I put his name forward. I know he’d like you to stay on. We’ve discussed it.”
Kala slouched back in her chair. “It’s a lot to take in.”
“Well, think on it and let me know your decision.”
“I will.” She stood and looked down at him. “I understand your need to move on, but I think I might stay here a while longer.”
“I figured you might.” He smiled. “I’ll tell them to hold the Kingston position another few weeks just in case you change your mind.”
The lights were off on the second floor. Kala angled her wrist to catch the light from the street lamp through the window. Only eight o’clock. They shouldn’t be in bed yet.
She stepped out of the truck and dodged traffic crossing York Street. The sidewalk was shovelled but the walkway wasn’t and the snow hid patches of ice. One near fall and she slowed her steps. The front door was still unlocked and this time the smell of fried fish filled the hallway. It almost covered the smell of cigarette smoke, but not quite. She climbed the staircase slowly, ribbons of shadow darkening the walls. The only light came from a bulb dangling on an exposed wire from the ceiling at the bottom of the stairs. This was no place to raise a kid, but she’d lived in worse.
She knocked on Rose’s door, knowing in her gut that nobody would answer. A sense of loss was already filling her like an old friend returning from a short vacation. She shifted sideways. It was the sound of a lock turning and a chain sliding across metal that alerted her. The door to the next apartment creaked open. She took a step toward it.
A white-haired head poked out, black current eyes in a wizened face. His teeth were probably soaking in a glass. “They left two days ago, all three of ’em. Rent coming due, I guess.”
“No forwarding address?”
“They won’t be keen to have anyone find them, now will they?
“I guess not. Did Rose leave a note or anything? I’m her cousin.”
“They left nothing.” He pushed the door shut with a bang. She could hear the lock click into place and the chain sliding back.
So, that’s how it will be.
Kala looked at Rose’s door one last time, willing it to open before she started down the stairs. She reached the bottom step and leaned heavily against the wall, her energy suddenly drained away. She watched a woman and young girl pass by on the sidewalk, snow dusting their heads like icing sugar.
Relationships are never the tidy packages we would like. People can disappoint.
Rouleau could have been talking about her life. Kala’s jaw tightened. She’d invented a relationship that was as dead as that man they’d thrown into the river when she was ten years old. She’d been crazy to believe the bond between her and Rose was real. Rose was only a childish fantasy that kept her going through years of having nobody.
The old man’s door creaked open again and she sensed him on the landing. She looked at the stained carpet and suddenly couldn’t wait to get out of there. It was time to keep moving. She pushed herself away from the wall and caught her blurry reflection in the glass. She straightened her shoulders and pulled her hood up over her head before stepping outside into the night. Checking both ways for traffic, she ran through the falling snow toward her truck.
It would take her where she needed to go.
Acknowledgements
Bringing a book to its final form takes a great deal of work and vision by many dedicated folks. First, thank you to Sylvia McConnell for reading the original manuscript and championing it for publication — your support and encouragement have always been invaluable. Thanks also go to Allister Thompson for his continued support these many years. Cold Mourning was patiently and carefully edited by Jennifer McKnight, and Karen McMullin coordinated publicity — thank you both for all of your guidance and hard work. Thanks also to Jesse Hooper and Carmen Giraudy for the splendid cover design. My deep appreciation goes to the entire Dundurn team, led by Publisher Kirk Howard and Vice-President Beth Bruder, for your belief in Canadian authors and our work.
Since the release of my first mystery novel in 2004, I have belonged to a supportive crime- writing group called Capital Crime Writers. I’ve benefited from a wealth of subject specialists who’ve visited our monthly meetings. Retired Sergeant Damien Coakeley from Ottawa Police Services was one such guest speaker, who went on to read my manuscript and to guide me on details of the crime and investigative techniques. I owe Damien a huge debt of gratitude for his first-hand knowledge and wise advice.
I also would like to acknowledge the supportive crime-writing community in Ottawa and across the country. In particular, I would like to express my deep respect and appreciation to my Ottawa writing buddies Mary Jane Maffini, Barbara Fradkin, Linda Wiken, R.J. Harlick, Tim Wynne-Jones, Rick Mofina, Thomas Rendell Curran, Alex Brett, C.B. Forrest, Jeff Ross, Michael J. McCann, Dave Whellams, and Peggy Blair. You each make this writing gig a lot more fun.
Many friends and readers, old and new, have supported me along the way. Every kind comment, Facebook “like” and retweet have made me smile and kept me motivated. You are the ones who show up at my book launches and signings, send words of encouragement across the miles and, most importantly, read my books — I thank each and every one of you.
Finally, thank you to my family, near and far. Ted, Lisa, and Julia Weagle, you are much loved and appreciated — and welcome to our family, Robin Guy. A special word of love and affection to my sister in law Phyllis Goucher, who has always been one of my strongest cheerleaders.
Copyright © Brenda Chapman, 2014
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise (except for brief passages for purposes of review) without the prior permission of Dundurn Press. Permission to photocopy should be requested from Access Copyright.
Editor: Jennifer McKnight
Design: Courtney Horner
Epub Design: Carmen Giraudy
Cover design by Jesse Hooper & Carmen Giraudy
Cover image © kamisoka/iStockphoto
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Chapman, Brenda, 1955-, author
Cold mourning : a Stonechild and Rouleau mystery / by
Brenda Chapman.
Issued in print and electronic formats.
ISBN 978-1-4597-0803-7
I. Title.
PS8605.H36C65 2014 C813'.6 C2013-902970-2
C2013-902971-0
We acknowledge the support of the Canada Council for the Arts and the Ontario Arts Council for our publishing program. We also acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and Livres Canada Books, and the Government of Ontario through the Ontario Book Publishing Tax Credit and the Ontario Media Development Corporation.
Care has been taken to trace the ownership of copyright material used in this book. The author and the publisher welcome any information enabling them to rectify any references or credits in subsequent editions.
J. Kirk Howard, President
The publisher is not responsible for websites or their content unless they are owned by the publisher.
Visit us at: Dundurn.com
Pinterest.com/dundurnpress
@dundurnpress
>
Facebook.com/dundurnpress