by Susan Gnucci
He did not know Vancouver well at all, but he knew enough to select the east end, a derelict, decaying neighborhood of rundown rooming houses, sketchy bars, and dingy ‘mom and pop’ establishments. It was notorious as a haven for drug dealers, prostitutes, and street people – anyone down on their luck. It was the type of place where people minded their own business, for to mind anyone else’s was foolhardy. It was not the type of neighborhood he frequented as a rule, and yet it afforded him the anonymity he needed. Crime was a way of life on these mean streets, so the disappearance of one more runaway teenage prostitute would hardly make the news. Yes, it was the perfect hunting ground.
He’d thought his plan through very carefully. Because Vancouver was a sprawling metropolis of more than two million people, it posed a problem when it came to…disposal. At first, this concerned him because he was used to the luxury of the woods; however, he soon came up with a solution. The mighty Fraser River ran right through the heart of the city, and people drowned in its waters all the time – bridge jumpers, careless swimmers, boating accident victims. Undoubtedly, it had also seen its share of murder victims. In places, its churning waters and strong current could carry a body far downstream, and after such a journey, there would be little physical evidence left. Yes, it would suit his purposes just fine.
It was while he was hunting in ‘East Van’ as the locals called it that he first happened upon the girl. Parked on a deserted side street well after midnight one night, he noticed a dark sedan swing into an adjacent alleyway and pull up to an abrupt stop, at which point a young woman unceremoniously exited the vehicle. Or rather, the passenger door opened and she was shoved out, cursing and flailing into the street. Even though the driver quickly slammed the door shut in her face, she fired off a round of colourful obscenities, and to make her displeasure even more apparent, she spat on the window. The driver, obviously unimpressed with her tirade, made a point of roaring away in a squeal of tires, leaving the poor girl coughing and choking on his exhaust. She kicked at the air as if the car was still there then turned abruptly on her heels and disappeared down the alley, staggering and swaying as she went.
He was thoroughly amused at her spunk. Obviously, she had not received payment for her services. Whereas some teenage girls wouldn’t have risked angering a John over such a turn of events, she had ‘expressed’ her displeasure loud and clear. He chuckled. Although he had only seen her briefly in the dimly lit alley, he’d been intrigued. He vowed to stay another night on the off-chance she would be ‘dropped off’ again at the same location. His instincts proved right, for the next evening at a similar hour, she exited a Jeep in a much more dignified manner this time and leaned over to flirt with her John before sashaying down the alley, her long, blonde ponytail bobbing and swaying with every step. It was like a beacon to him, stirring the hunger from deep within him.
Once Tess found out about Emmy’s own mother being psychic, her curiosity got the better of her. “Emmy, what was your mother’s name?” she asked quietly as she sat at the kitchen table swinging her short, little legs rhythmically, petting her faithful companion who had come to sit beside her chair. The smell of freshly brewed coffee hung heavily in the air of their cosy kitchen.
Emmy, who was busy serving up bowls of steaming porridge, smiled knowingly to herself. “Let’s let this cool a minute,” she said as she set the bowls down on the table. “There’s something I want to show you.” With that, she took Tess by the hand and led her down the hallway into the sitting room. The ‘parlour’, as Emmy often referred to it, was the one room in the house in which Tess was not allowed to play. It was considered off-limits for the most part as it was where Emmy received her guests. The dark wood panelling lent the room a somber air, and the formal antique furniture faced a massive stone hearth.
As they entered the parlour this morning, Emmy motioned for Tess to take a seat on the settee by the window while she retrieved something from a cabinet. Tess, whose curiosity was piqued by this point, sat expectantly on the edge of her seat. In the meantime, Bailey had joined them, circling once before flopping down rather dramatically onto the plush rug in front of the fireplace.
“Now you know you’re not allowed in here,” Emmy fussed half-heartedly. She looked disapprovingly at the dog, but if she thought she could shame him into leaving, she was sorely mistaken. He merely gave her a baleful look and stretched out on his side facing away from them, almost as if he could better ignore her displeasure that way. Emmy sighed in resignation and took a seat next to Tess. As she did so, she placed a weathered photo album on their laps.
“I’m glad you asked about my mother, Tess, because she was very special to me, just like you are.” She smiled warmly at her charge. “Her name was Lida.”
“That’s a funny name,” Tess spoke with the guileless honesty only young children possess.
“Oh, it’s an old fashioned name these days, I suppose, but back then it was common enough. But my mother was far from common, Tess. Far from it.” With that, she opened the album and pointed to several faded photographs of a diminutive, attractive woman. Tess was intrigued and stared at the photos with rapt attention. It wasn’t just the unfamiliar style of clothing or the old fashioned cars that held her attention. All of that was interesting enough, but more importantly, it was the simple fact there had been someone (and a relative, no less) who was like her. As young as she was, Tess felt an incredible kinship with the woman who stared out at her from the pages of the faded album.
After several minutes of careful examination, Tess looked up at her guardian whom she now entrusted with her secret and asked, “She was just like me, Emmy?
The question was asked so tentatively, Emmy was reminded once again of the fragility of this child. She knew in her heart she would do anything to protect her. She marvelled with the realization that such a wee little thing had changed her life so completely, had given it a purpose and a richness she never knew were missing from it.
“Yes, Tess. Yes, she was. People didn’t understand back in those days like they do now, so my mother rarely ever talked about her ability outside of the family. But I know first-hand of her gift.”
“Gift?” Tess pronounced the word as though the very sound and feel of it was strange on her tongue.
“Why, yes. Her gift. That’s what it is, you know. Everyone has a gift. Some gifts are obvious like being able to play a musical instrument or being able to write stores and books. Other gifts aren’t so obvious like being able to make people laugh or being a good listener. And still others are even less tangible; in fact, they are very rare indeed, like my mother’s and yours.”
“Did your mother get her gift from an accident?” Tess asked thoughtfully.
“Well, no. She always had it as far as I can remember. Do you want me to tell you the story of when I first learned of it?”
Tess nodded her head vigorously, and she and Emmy settled back together on their seat. Their movement stirred Bailey from his slumber, who after assessing nothing was amiss, laid his head back down on his paws with a contented huff.
“Back when I was a little girl, probably no older than you are now, I was terrified of a boy in our neighbourhood named Billy Thompson. He was a few years older, and all the neighbourhood children were frightened of him because he was such a bully. We excluded him from our play which only seemed to make him even meaner whenever we crossed paths with him. Oh, I look back on it now, of course, and I can see a lonely little boy who just wanted to fit in, but back then, his actions only served to drive all of us further away.”
Emmy paused briefly to see if Tess was following her and then continued with her story. “One day while we were playing out in our front yard, Billy came along on his bicycle. When we caught sight of him, we all scattered faster than you could say ‘Jack Rabbit’.” Emmy chuckled and shook her head as if the memory of that was still fresh in her mind. “Instead of continuing on his way, Billy climbed down off his bicycle and marched over to the base of the large a
pple tree that stood in our front yard. He boasted to all of us within earshot that he was going to climb to the very top and give the tree a good shake to loosen all of the apples. Now my mother loved her apple tree and the crisp, juicy apples it always produced every year, but there was no way I was going to come out of my hiding place to alert her to the impending calamity with her tree. There was no need, however, for my mother was standing at the parlour window, and when she saw what Billy Thompson was up to, she stormed out of the house madder than a hornet.”
At this, Emmy tried but failed to suppress a grin. “I can still see her at the base of that tree, hands on hips, ordering him to come down ‘right this minute’! When he wouldn’t, she took off her apron and proceeded to climb up after him.”
Tess started giggling at this point.
“My mother grabbed that boy by the ankle and literally hauled him down out of that tree. He fell the last few feet and landed in a heap, but honestly, I think he was more astonished than hurt or humiliated. Afraid he would run off before she could scold him properly, my mother grabbed hold of one of his arms as he was struggling to his feet. It was then, quite suddenly, when the wind went right out of her sails, and a strange look came over her face. She stared at Billy with a look I didn’t understand at the time, but one I now know was full of anguish. Billy shook off her hand as though he’d been scalded, and without saying another word, he grabbed his bicycle, hopped onto it and pedalled like a madman down the street. My mother composed herself and dusted off her dress before heading back into the house. The very next morning on our round of errands, my mother and I stopped in at the druggist’s. There were only a few family-owned drug stores in town back in those days, and one of them was owned by a big bull of a man named Mr. Thompson. Yes, one and the same – Billy Thompson’s father. I had heard talk on occasion that Mr. Thompson was a drinker, but he was a God-fearing church-goer, so most people never believed such rumours about him. He was bold and brash though, and my mother sorely detested him. You knew my mother disliked someone when she wasted no time on pleasantries. Well, that morning was no exception. My mother marched right into Mr. Thompson’s shop, which she never normally frequented, and without so much as a ‘How do you do?’ or a ‘Good morning’, she announced to him that if he ever so much as raised a hand to his son again, she would ruin him. She vowed to broadcast the fact he was a drunkard who took his frustrations out on an innocent child. And she threatened to initiate a petition amongst all of her friends and neighbours to boycott his store. Without another word, she spun around and ushered me towards the door. As I turned around to catch a parting glance at Mr. Thompson, who stood with his mouth agape by the way, I caught sight of Billy cowering in the back of the shop. Billy made all of the prescription deliveries on his bicycle, and that morning no doubt, he was just heading off on his route. He looked after my departing mother with something akin to awe.”
Tess glanced up at Emmy, a look of fascinated pleasure on her face. “What happened to Billy after that, Emmy? Did his father treat him any better?”
“Oh, yes. Yes, he did.”
“How do you know?” Tess was anxious for confirmation of a happy ending to the story.
“I know because he came to see my mother not long afterwards.”
“To thank her?”
“Yes. And do you know, for years afterwards, he would often visit my mother, and on those occasions, he would always bring her a bag of apples.”
That night, after Emmy tucked Tess into bed and turned out the light, she paused in the doorway for a moment and looked around her ward’s bedroom that by now was bathed in a sliver of moonlight slipping through the curtains. “I’m glad I chose this bedroom for you, Tess. It used to be my mother’s.”
NOVEMBER
October slipped quietly into November, the brilliant fusion of fall colors fading as the wind stripped the trees bare of their leaves. The November winds on the west coast could often reach gale force, and that, combined with the notoriously damp climate, created a penetrating chill even in the absence of sub-zero temperatures. So although Victoria’s climate in the fall and winter months was deemed ‘mild’ compared with the rest of Canada, it still packed a bite.
On a particularly brisk evening, Tess and Leah decided to take a walk, both of them bundled up against the biting wind, strolling with their arms linked as they often did, a companionable silence between them. As a reward for having ventured out on such an inhospitable night, they ducked into a local coffee house that was still open. After ordering mugs of steaming tea and the obligatory pastry, they settled into a booth, both of them chuckling over each other’s ‘hat hair’. Leah suddenly stopped laughing, however, when Tess stripped off her gloves.
“OK, Tess, now that’s just plain morbid.”
Tess immediately retracted her hands and tucked them in her lap. With a sheepish grin, she tried to defend herself. “I know. I know. I just thought it might help to wear it.”
Leah made a face to indicate what she obviously thought of that idea. “I thought it creeped you out.”
“It did, at first,” Tess admitted sheepishly, “but then I thought it might help to wear it.” When she witnessed her friend’s disapproving look, she added, “I don’t wear it to school or anything…” Her voice trailed off as though she was having a hard time convincing even herself. Leaning forward across the table, she lowered her voice, “They’re counting on me, Leah.”
“Look, Tess, you’re trying too hard. I’ve never seen you like this before, and I get the feeling it’s not just a matter of wanting to solve this case…even though I know you’d like to help that girl’s family,” she added.
“Is it that obvious?” Tess sighed, giving up all pretence.
“To me it is. And I bet McLean knows as well if you act like this around him.” Leah rolled her eyes.
A nervous giggle erupted from Tess before she could restrain herself. “Do you really think so?” She looked at her friend in earnest.
“Tess, you know I tell it like it is. But even if he is interested, I don’t think he’d do anything about it. He’s too professional. Besides, he’d probably get in trouble. You know – conflict of interest and all that.”
Tess slowly sank back against her seat, frowning in displeasure.
Leah continued, “You need to face it, Tess – you’re not going to channel anything because you’re focusing on him. And from the looks of it, that isn’t going to change anytime soon,” she grinned mischievously.
Tess gave her friend an exasperated look and leaned forward to rest her chin on her hands. “I guess you’re right,” she sighed heavily. Knowing what she needed to do but disheartened all the same at the necessity of having to do it, she admitted, “I suppose I need to return the ring, don’t I?”
The very next day, Tess made a point of returning the ring to McLean before she could change her mind. It pained her to see the expression on his face when she did so. He seemed reluctant to accept it back.
“You OK?” he asked softly.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she answered without looking up. “I just can’t force anything, you know. It’s been weeks now, and I’m not picking up on anything, and I don’t think that’s going to change.” She couldn’t look him in the eye, but rather sat talking to her hands in her lap.
He leaned back against the desk in his office and folded his arms across his chest, studying her intently. Finally, he broke the silence. “It’s OK, Tess. Don’t worry. It was good of you to try.” He hid his disappointment behind a kind smile. She admired that about him – you could lash out at him, no doubt, and he would probably still be considerate.
All of a sudden, she needed to escape, or she feared she would burst into tears. Scooping up her book bag from the floor by her chair, she headed for the door.
“Tess,” he called after her, causing her to pause in the doorway. “Do you think we could try something else?” he asked carefully.
Turning around, she eyed him warily, not at al
l sure where this was heading.
“I’ve been really loathe to ask you this. I didn’t want to stress you out any more than you already were with the ring,” he began. “But maybe you’d have more luck if you met Katie’s parents,” he suggested tentatively. When she did not respond, he took her silence as a positive sign and continued, “For some time now, Katie’s parents, particularly her mom, have wanted to meet with you. They asked about the sketch, and at the time, all we told them was a psychic had produced it. They have no idea of the extent of your sighting the night of the murder, and I don’t think that’s something you’d ever want to tell them, frankly. But they do want to meet you.”
Tess appeared deep in thought as she shifted uncomfortably on her feet. Finally, she spoke – “I can see why you didn’t talk to me earlier about this.” As she continued, she sighed wearily and her voice took on a pleading quality. “Please understand. It’s not that I don’t want to meet them…” At this point, she took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Look, I have to be honest with you. I’ve never been able to have sightings when I get…emotionally involved. It’s like there’s this…this mental block or something. I’m afraid that’s what’s happening in this case.” Looking up, she tried to gauge if he was following her. “And besides that, I just don’t think I could handle their disappointment on top of everything else, you know? I already feel like a failure with you guys, and that’s bad enough, but what if I fail them?” Although she had only confessed a half-truth, she was desperately afraid he would now be able to put two and two together and deduce the real reason for her failure to channel with the ring. This thought made her blush furiously, forcing her to hang her head.
If he did suspect anything, he gave no indication; instead, he moved to stand in front of her, taking her gently by the shoulders and waited for her to tilt her head up to his. “I understand, Tess. I know you want to help. Believe me, I know that. And I know you feel bad about not picking up on anything from the ring. But even if you don’t have a sighting after meeting her parents, they’re really no worse off. They have nothing to lose at this point. Yes, they’re looking for answers, but if you can’t provide them with any, they’re not going to hold that against you.”