The Travelling Detective: Boxed Set

by Joan Donaldson-Yarmey

  “What were those?” Jared asked.

  They were sitting in Wayne’s carport since it was the only area out of the sun that would accommodate Jared’s wheelchair. It had a cement floor and a flat roof, which was used as a deck from the patio doors in the house. The structure with its faded paint and slight list, looked old and Elizabeth worried that it might fall down on them if a wind came up. After checking out the yard, Chevy came and lay at Elizabeth’s feet.

  They’d asked Wayne about Anna but he’d stated that he’d probably only had five or six conversations with her in the time she’d been married to Paul. However, when they’d mentioned Christine and Ben, he’d opened right up.

  “She told me she wanted us to sell the farm and move to Vancouver.”

  “Why?”

  “That’s what I wondered at the time. Her explanation was that she wanted to experience life, to travel, to do other things. But after she killed Ben I found out that she’d wanted to break the affair off with him. I guess she also wanted to end our marriage but couldn’t tell me outright. So she told me that she wanted me to sell our farm and move away. She knew I wouldn’t do it.”

  “Why would she have known that?”

  “Because this has been my home for all my life,” Wayne said intently. “I’ve never wanted to leave it and I never will. I’m going to die here.”

  “So when you wouldn’t agree she moved into town,” Elizabeth said. It seemed like the logical explanation since she was living in Redwater when she killed Ben.

  “Yes. It was just after our son, Graham, had returned home.”

  Elizabeth wondered if there was any significance to that or if that was just a time marker for this older man with the lined face and stooped shoulders. Since it didn’t seem to bother Wayne that she was asking questions along with Jared, she continued. “Why did he come back?”

  “He’d gone to Calgary to get a job and to look at going to the Southern Alberta Institute of Technology to become an electrician, but after working for a year he’d decided that farming was what he wanted to do. So he returned to help us.”

  “Where is he now?” She looked around the neglected yard with its patchy grass full of tall dandelions. There was only one other vehicle besides Jared’s in the yard. Maybe he was in town.

  Wayne grimaced. “He’s living in Edmonton with Christine.”

  That left Elizabeth unable to think of how to ask all the questions that statement had raised. Jared jumped in with. “How did that happen?”

  “Christine moved back in here for a while before her trial. Then she decided to go to Edmonton. After a while Graham moved there, too. When I asked him why, he said that she needed him. They came back for the trial and the jury ruled she was not guilty because her lawyer had shown that someone could have hit her and then killed Ben. They returned to Edmonton and she finished her CGA course. Graham went for his electrician’s ticket at the Northern Alberta Institute of Technology.” Wayne shook his head. “I couldn’t understand it. After all I did for him he went to her and left me to farm alone.”

  “Did you and Christine visit with Anna and Paul at all?” Elizabeth thought they’d try again.

  “No. With Christine working all day she was tired most evenings and didn’t feel like going anywhere. And on weekends she cleaned house and worked in her garden.”

  “We never came here to see you?” Jared asked.

  Wayne shook his head.

  “So you don’t know much about their lives.” Elizabeth noticed that Jared was looking around the yard.

  “I know Anna was a good cook.” Wayne smiled for the first time. “Ben, Nick’s dad Joseph, Paul, and I would get together to do a lot of our farm work, such as seeding and haying. When we were at each farm we ate our lunches and suppers there.” He looked at Jared. “Your mom always put on the best spread, homemade bread, pies, and her pyrogies were the best I’ve ever tasted.”

  As heart-warming as it was to know that she was remembered for something that bit of information didn’t help them.

  “It seems strange that two people in the region would die within a few months of each other and yet neither death was from natural or accidental causes.”

  “Are you saying they are somehow associated with each other?” Wayne asked.

  “What do you think?”

  “I think that’s a dumb idea.”

  Well, that ended that line of questioning, Elizabeth thought.

  “Besides, it was thirty years ago,” Wayne continued. “If it is true that your mother was murdered, Jared, that photograph would have been sent a long time ago.”

  “Do you have an address and phone number for Christine?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Why?”

  “Well, we’d like to talk to her.”

  Wayne went and found his address book. It was old and tattered. He read out the information while Elizabeth copied it down.

  As they drove away Elizabeth looked at the run down old house and the dilapidated barn both of which were in dire need of repair and paint. It seemed that Wayne hadn’t accomplished his desired expansion nor, for that matter, had he done much at all since his wife and son left.

  * * * *

  Wayne’s Story

  Wayne was peeling potatoes when the phone rang. He knew even before answering it that it was Christine. She usually phoned at that time if she had to work late.

  “Wayne, I won’t be there for a couple of hours yet.”

  “Okay.” He felt the familiar disappointment but he had long ago given up trying to persuade her to stick to regular hours. His good news could keep until she showed up.

  When Christine arrived home, he had the potatoes mashed and was waiting to fry up the pork chops. The astonishment on her face still made him smile.

  “How was your day?” he asked, putting the chops into the frying pan.

  “Good,” she answered, looking at the set table, the lettuce and onion salad, the wine glasses. “You’ve never done this before. What’s it all about?”

  He told her he had something important to tell her but she would have to wait until after supper. He poured her some wine and they sat.

  “You’re not going to tell me, are you?” she said.

  “Not until after we eat,” he answered, though he wanted so badly to blurt out his plans. But he was enjoying the thrill of anticipation. He even cleaned off the table and loaded the dishwasher before they went into the living room.

  “I’ve been thinking about the farm,” he said.

  “I have, too,” Christine said, which had excited him. That made it easier.

  “I was thinking we should build another barn and increase our herd. Graham is out working and we have enough money set aside in case he decides to continue his education. You can quit your job now and we can run the farm together.”

  He watched her face, looking for the elation, the joy he had so often pictured her having at his announcement. But she didn’t laugh and throw her arms around his neck. She didn’t say she was glad to be able to quit her terrible job. Instead she just sat gazing at her glass. He quickly realized that that wasn’t what she’d been thinking. After a few moments he asked her what she had in mind.

  “I was thinking we could sell the farm and move to some place different, like Vancouver. We could get jobs, have weekends free for whatever we wanted to do and travel to exotic places on our holidays.”

  He just stared at her. She wanted to sell and travel? How silly was that? They’d decided years ago to wait until retirement to do that.

  When he asked her why she wanted to sell she said. “We could get enough to buy a house near the ocean and with jobs we would have the money and time to travel.”

  He tried not to laugh out loud. What a ludicrous statement! He didn’t want to work nine to five for someone else and he had no desire to see the world right then. That was for when he was too old to work. And except for milking twice a day and field work in the summer and fall, as far as he was concerned, they had plenty
of time to do whatever they wanted. It was her job that stopped them.

  “But we don’t have time to do anything,” she said, her voice pleading. “We always have to be home to milk the cows. We can’t go to the city for a weekend; we seldom get to the wedding ceremony, the reception, and the dance. We always miss one or two of them because we have to come back home to milk the cows. We can only go to the lake for a few hours during the day because we have to get home to milk the cows. We’ve never taken a holiday.” Her voice rose in anger. “We don’t own those cows, they own us.”

  “Is that how you see it?” Wayne couldn’t believe it. After all these years, where was this coming from? Who had planted such an idiotic thought in her head?

  “Yes. We’ve been doing the same thing every day since we were married. That’s the real reason I went to work. I couldn’t take the boredom of it week after week, year after year. And now that Graham has left home, I thought we could get a jump on our retirement plans.”

  He was at a loss. How she’d come up with such a ridiculous notion he had no idea. His first response was to tell her how absurd the plan was but he knew that would get him nowhere. “I really have to go somewhere and think about this,” he said. He went out and checked on the cows. They were kept in a corral by the barn overnight so they’d be close for the morning milking.

  Maybe she was going through the change. He’d heard that some women got strange ideas during that time. He decided he would listen patiently to what she had to say and try reasoning with her. Eventually, she’d realize how stupid she was sounding and she’d soon see it his way.

  He returned and headed to the bedroom where she was reading a book in bed.

  “Can we talk?” he asked, sitting on the side of the bed.

  She looked up at him.

  “I have to know how serious you are about me selling the farm.”

  She sat for a moment then said. “Very serious. There is more to life than what we have.”

  “I know but I thought we had decided we were going to wait until we were older to travel.”

  “No, you decided that.”

  “And you didn’t argue.”

  “There was nothing to argue about. At the time Graham was still at home and I wasn’t sure what I wanted.”

  “I thought you liked the farm.”

  “I did. I do, but I’ve lived my whole life on a farm. I can’t see living in same house, in the same yard, in the same community for the remainder of my life. I want more than the small world we’ve created here. It’s so restrictive.” She looked earnestly at him. “Remember the history we took in school; the Parthenon in Rome, the pyramids in Egypt, the amphitheatre at Pompeii. Or the places they show on television like the Bavarian cities, Buckingham Palace, the Blarney Stone. Don’t you want to visit them now while you’re still young? Don’t you just want to get away from here and try something new?”

  So many questions ran through his mind. What made her think he would want to ‘get away’, as she put it? There was no way he wanted to sell his farm just so he could go visit those places. What did they have to offer him? They were just old buildings from the past, and who wanted to kiss a rock? Home and family were the most important things in life.

  “This farm is my home, our home,” he began impatiently, then stopped. He had to humour her. “Go on.”

  “What about going to see the Grand Canyon or the Statue of Liberty or the Eiffel Tower or even down east to the Maritimes? Can you say you have never wanted to pack up and take off?”

  “No, I’ve never had the urge. I’ll see those places when I retire.”

  “By then we will be a couple of old cripples hardly able to get around. How much will we be able to see and do then?”

  “Why are you suddenly so insistent that we sell and move?”

  Christine looked at him, then away. “I just need a change.”

  “Well, I’m proposing a change.”

  “That’s not what I want. And why have you never said anything about it before?”

  “I wanted to surprise you. I thought you would look forward to us working together on the farm, that you would be glad to quit your job.”

  “Well, the only way I’ll quit my job is if I’m moving away.” She sighed. “This is our first discussion and we are at an impasse. Maybe we should leave the subject alone for a while longer.”

  Wayne quickly agreed. He was positive that if Christine had more time to think about his plans, she would agree with them. After all, he loved her. That’s really all she needed. “Yes, it will give us a chance to consider each other’s vision.”

  Christine nodded and opened her book.

  Chapter 18

  “Well, that was just plain strange,” Jared said, when they left Wayne Dearden’s farm.

  “What was?” Elizabeth turned towards him.

  “I had a feeling of déjà vu at one point. It was like I’d been at that farm before.”

  “You may have been there as a child.”

  “Not according to Wayne.”

  “Yeah, that’s right. Can you think of what it was that gave you that feeling? An object you saw, a word?”

  Jared shook his head.

  “Maybe you’ll remember eventually.”

  Jared glanced at her and smiled. “Maybe.”

  “I’m going to do my next tour tomorrow,” Elizabeth said when they back at the B&B. “I’ll be ending up in St. Albert so if I finish in time, I thought I’d go have a chat with Christine Dearden. I’m not sure when I’ll be back tomorrow night but I’ve checked with Brandon and he’ll be able to help you tomorrow evening. I’ll let him know we’re back so he can come to your room to learn your routine.”

  “I think I’ll go visit with Meredith tomorrow,” Jared said. “I’m having some trouble with a couple of poems for my chapbook. And maybe she can tell me more things about Mom. Then I’ll go see Dad. Maybe he will have cooled off and be willing to talk with me.”

  When Brandon came to Jared’s room they showed him what was needed in the way of care for Jared.

  “Do you look after all the challenged clients who stay here?” Elizabeth asked, impressed by the young man’s ability and thoughtfulness.

  “If they want it, yes,” Brandon nodded, as he helped Jared into bed.

  “Have you had any training?”

  “No, but I did take care of my grandmother when she broke her hip last year. She told me I should check into the health care field not only because I was good at it but because with the Baby Boomers aging I would never have to worry about being out of a job.”

  “She’s right,” Elizabeth agreed. “Are you going to?”

  Brandon grinned. “I’ve already registered for a fall course in Edmonton.”

  “Well, if you need a job or a reference, just let me know,” Jared said.

  “Thank you,” Brandon said, as he left the room.

  Elizabeth looked at her watch. She’d hoped to do some transcribing this evening but it was getting late. Time just seemed to disappear when she was with Jared.

  “May I borrow Meredith’s second book?” Elizabeth asked. “I’d like to read some more of her poems. I’m impressed with the way the poetry is written. It flows and I don’t have to go back and reread it to understand it. Plus, it’s like you said, kind of a mystery unfolding. And I do like those.”

  Jared handed her the book. “So I won’t see you until sometime tomorrow night.”

  “I’ll probably be quite late. I’ll see you the next morning.”

  Jared shook his head. “Come here when you get back. I’ll be awake and I’ll want to know what Christine had to say.”

  “Okay.” She bent over the bed and kissed Jared.

  He put his hand around her head and held her lips on his. “Have a good day tomorrow,” he said, when he let her go.

  Elizabeth nodded numbly, wishing she wasn’t going. She wanted to spend as much time with Jared as she could. She hurried to her room and once settled on the bed opened the
book to take her mind off him. She didn’t read the poems in order. Instead she started them from back to front, just like she read the newspaper.

  Fade In

  Act One

  Exterior-Farm House-Night.

  There is snow on the ground. Stars twinkle in the clear, night sky. A vehicle pulls into the yard and a woman climbs out. She stares at the house then takes a deep breath. She releases it in a vapour. With slow tread she climbs up the steps and enters the darkened house. Inside, she stops and listens.

  There is no noise in my house; it is dark and silent.

  Today, I threw soil on your casket, I buried you.

  Is this what it is like in your grave,

  total quiet, total darkness?

  I flip on the light and wander the house

  looking at the possessions that were supposed to

  symbolize our life, a life that I have learned

  never existed, except in my own mind.

  This has been our home for nineteen years

  but it now feels alien to me.

  Because from today on I know that mine

  will be the only shadow in the house.

  End Act One

  Fade Out

  Fade In

  Act Two

  Interior-Farm House-Night.

  All the lights are on in the house. The woman is in the kitchen. She pushes over the shelving holding plant seedlings and pots. She heads to the dining room and goes to a china cabinet with no doors. All the shelves hold figurines and dishes and knick knacks. They crash to the floor with a sweep of her hand. The ones that don’t break disintegrate under her foot.

  “Damn you, Ben. Damned you to hell!” I yell.

  I want you to hear. I want you to know

  the sorrow and the pain you have brought me.

  I go from room to room, expunging.

  I spray your shaving cream on the walls.