“With all due respect, get your head out of your ass, your honor. Sodium hydroxide is a caustic substance better known as lye. Sodium chloride is indeed salt, sodium nitrate, often called Chile or Peru saltpeter is a highly flammable, air-sensitive, yellow powder, and ammonia hydroxide is a deadly poison. All of these things are present in your lake water. They weren’t there when I took preliminary samples last spring. They weren’t there a month and a half ago when we started this project. They weren’t there two weeks ago. Someone has opened a meth lab on your island, and unless you do something fast, people are going to die.”
“Bull shit!” The mayor’s hands were clenched at his side, and Tony knew Ron would like nothing better than to hit him. How had things degenerated so quickly?
“Have you got independent collaboration of your so-called findings? Where are these samples? Why haven’t they been sent to the police department’s forensic lab? I’ll tell you why—because they don’t exist! I don’t know why you’re making up these stories, why you’re trying to discredit our island, but I want these crazy rumors of yours to stop. Meth lab, my ass. You probably added the chemicals to the water yourself.”
Tony stared at the man and clenched his own fists at his side. He’d love to wipe the smug look off the man’s face, but getting arrested for assault wouldn’t be a smart move. He couldn’t let this fool bait him into doing something stupid.
“What’s the matter, professor? Did your research tell you what we’ve known for years? You bloody scientists have to try and explain everything, don’t you? Some things are meant to remain a mystery. The lake has defied geographical and geological theories for centuries. What makes you think it’ll give up its secrets to you? It’s like Buddha’s magic bowl. No one knows where the water comes from, and no one really cares as long as it’s there. Some of us have respect for the beliefs of our ancestors.”
Tony spoke through clenched teeth. The animosity he felt for the mayor was overwhelming. He’d never been this angry in his life.
“If everyone thought the way you do, we’d still believe the world was flat. Mysteries are meant to be solved. That’s what science does. It finds answers. We don’t live in the dark ages. Fresh water is at a premium on this planet, and we need to know where this poison is coming from before it’s too late.”
“There is no poison circulating in our lake!” Ron’s shout echoed in the room.
The man’s red face reminded Tony of an enraged bull. All he needed was steam to come out of his ears. He paced as he spoke, and Tony found it harder and harder to keep his own temper in check.
“I know what’s really going on here,” Ron shouted. “There’s no poison. There never was. You didn’t find what you were looking for in the water, and those two kids knew it. Were they going to expose you as a fraud? Tell the whole world their professor was off his rocker? After all, you’ve been seeing things, and everyone knows it.”
“What the hell are you talking about Davies?”
“The maiden, of course. Did you or did you not ask Steve about a woman with long dark hair wrapped in a blanket walking along the beach?”
“Yeah. I wondered about her. She’s out there a lot, in lousy weather too. I thought she might know something about the break-in we had a few weeks ago. It might not be safe for her to be alone like that.”
Ron laughed, a bitter sound grating on Tony’s nerves. “Believe me, she’s safer than you are. She’s been dead over two hundred years. You’ve described the Mohawk maiden the way those who’ve seen her have.”
“You’re full of it.” Tony refused to believe the thoughts he’d had himself earlier were true.
“The woman I’ve seen is real, not a ghost. Are you trying to discredit me? Is that how you plan to deal with this when people start dying?”
Ron turned and slammed his fist on the desk.
“Start dying? Two people are dead and whatever is or is not supposed to be poisoning the lake isn’t to blame—you are. Someone sent those kids out on the lake last night. Where were you? I’ve spoken with the investigating officers. You told them your students had come into town, but no one saw them—not at the grocery store nor the drug mart, the two places where you said they’d been. Their car’s in the resort’s parking lot. I’d work on my alibi if I were you. When that forensic pathologist gets here, I’m sure he’ll have questions for you.”
Tony seethed. Since when did the police share their findings on a case with the mayor’s office? Lindsay and Aaron could have gone into Belleville instead of Picton although she’d mentioned picking up a prescription. He took several deep breaths in an effort to control his rage. He’d like to wrap his hands around the mayor’s skinny neck and squeeze until the man’s damn black eyes popped.
The vicious thought calmed him. He’d never resorted to physical force to win an argument. Hell, he didn’t even watch hockey because he couldn’t stand the fighting. Where were these murderous thoughts coming from? They weren’t his. He needed to calm down and think things through. The mayor wasn’t his enemy. It was as if there was someone else inside of him trying to claw his way out. The headache intensified.
“I’ll answer whatever questions the pathologist has. Maybe he’ll be more interested in the test results than you are. Someone needs to find that lab. If you won’t help me, maybe he will.
The mayor threw back his head and laughed.
“Good luck with that. No one’s going to help you prove something that’s all in your imagination. Go home, professor. Accept what we all know. There’s no real mystery as to why there’s water in our lake. It’s the water cycle every kid learns about in science. There’s an extensive swamp, and two streams all flowing into the lake. They’re your water sources. If the water has the same mineral properties as a lake a thousand miles away, so what? This is the Canadian Shield. The rocks are all the same. Your students are dead because they knew the truth, and you wanted to shut them up. As far as I’m concerned, you killed them as surely as if you’d held their faces underwater.”
“Look, your honor,” Tony fought to keep his voice level. “I did not send them out to test the water last night. I would never send anyone out in a canoe on a stormy night like that, and my students wouldn’t have gone even if I’d told them to. They were found bundled together inside one coat. That makes no sense to me. Does it make sense to you? They were experienced canoeists and swimmers. Neither of them would have done something as stupid as tie themselves together like that. That’s what I told the family. That’s what doesn’t make sense. Lindsay and Aaron were colleagues and friends, but they weren’t a couple, and they had no reason to be out on that water.”
“What do you really know about your students? Maybe they were in love, and it was some kind of suicide pact. Hell, for all I know they could be the ones with the meth, and they were afraid you’d find their lab. Who better to cook up that little chemistry project than university science students? They could have been high or drunk and thought they’d go after your mysterious maiden. Some woman who’d had way too much of the local wine claimed to have seen her ghost paddling away from shore just last month. Maybe your students ‘saw’ her too. Or maybe the little girlfriend found her boyfriend diddling the competition and took care of them. It doesn’t matter. It’s not germane to the situation. Your students, your responsibility. You explain why they’re dead.”
“We’ve had problems from year to year—poor weather, poor economy—but this time, even I don’t think I can spin this in our favor. It’s okay for people to believe we have a plesiosaur in the lake, but if they start thinking it’s tipping canoes, then we’re all in trouble. This island survives on tourist dollars. Some tourists will come out of ghoulish curiosity, most will stay away. If they think our ghostly lovers have turned into malevolent ghosts going around murdering people, it won’t help. In the meantime, I’m trying to get your research permit revoked. I suggest you pack up. You’re out of here as soon as I can manage it.”
“I’m not leavi
ng until I’m good and ready. I want answers to why my students are dead, but I also want to know where those chemicals are coming from. Someone’s poisoning the lake, and I want to know who. But something else is bothering me right now. I want to know why you don’t care.”
Ron laughed again, the sound as unpleasant as the man himself.
“I don’t care because as far as I can see, this is all a crock of bull. There are no poisonous chemicals in our water. Get out of my office, professor, and don’t come back. I’ll be sure to send the provincial coroner your way. Don’t worry. He’ll know all about you and your nonsense before he meets you.”
* * * *
Michelle unlocked her apartment door, and walked into the foyer. The converted warehouse complex hosted eight lofts. Hers was a second story corner unit with windows on two sides. She loved the red brick walls, high ceilings, and cedar plank floors. Huge Douglas fir pillars held up the roof. Her plants thrived thanks to all the natural light. The walls were painted a soft moss green and anything upholstered was covered in deeper shades of that color. She’d furnished it primarily with antiques and reproductions. On the far wall of the dining area, her collection of carnival glass reflected the overhead lights.
Lynn came in every week to clean, dust, and water the plants. Tasha brought up the mail for her and put it in a basket on the hall table. Since her bills and bank statements were all e-posts, there wasn’t anything critical waiting for her. She noted most of what was in the basket consisted of brochures for tropical vacations and cruises. She shuddered at the thought of ten days at sea—all that water.
Michelle carried her suitcase into the spare room and placed it on the sleigh bed. Most of what was in it wouldn’t be suitable for Prince Edward County, but she’d bought a couple of sweaters when the weather had turned cold. She opened the case, removed the items she’d need and carried them into the apartment’s small laundry room. She’d wash what she could now and do the rest later tonight.
She kicked off her heels and padded into the washroom. What she wanted was a shower. What she’d settle for would be a nice hot bath. She looked at the clock. It was almost four. She had to meet Tasha at six. Lots of time to soak and try to make sense of all this.
She put the plug in the drain and started the water. The scent of her favorite herbal bubble bath perfumed the air, and she removed her clothing. The mirror above the sink beckoned, and she relaxed when her own image stared back at her. I’ve got myself all worked up over nothing.
She sank into the warm water, letting the fragrance and the heat relax her. It would be interesting to meet two hot and alive men, and doing it on the company’s dime wouldn’t hurt anyone. She’d solve the case and see where it left her and the two hotties afterward.
She closed her eyes and let her thoughts drift back to the unpleasant scene with Tasha in the deli. She hated arguing with her best friend, but Tasha was right about one thing. This fear of water had to end.
* * * *
Tony stared at the road through the rain trying to keep his mind on his driving instead of letting it go back to that meeting with the mayor. He white-knuckled the steering wheel as the wind battered the SUV. The rain came down faster than the wipers could clear it from the windshield, and because of the storm, dusk had fallen earlier than usual. Visibility worsened by the minute. He should have waited until tomorrow to get his answers, but violent, angry outbursts weren’t him, any more than pining over some woman was. The scene in the kitchen haunted him. He had to know the truth—one way or another.
A particularly strong gust of wind slammed rain and debris into the windshield momentarily blinding him. Tony shivered. He should turn back and go straight to the inn, but his gut told him he needed to see Joseph. The rain eased up slightly as he pulled into Mohawk Territory.
Was that jackass mayor right? Would the parents blame him for what had happened? They were young adults not children under his care twenty-four-seven, but he felt responsible. A career and research grants seemed like pittance when compared to the lives of two of the brightest students he’d ever had. He’d gladly trade places with them if he could.
He took his left hand off the steering wheel and pushed his hair off his face, back behind his ear. He should have tied it back, but his head had been pounding when he’d left Ron’s office and he thought letting it loose would help. Not likely with the stress he was under. He’d get it cut first thing tomorrow. Enough was enough. God! How had things become so chaotic?
Tony frowned. He’d never considered needing an alibi. If you hadn’t done anything wrong, why would you need one? How many people who lived alone spent their time wondering if they had alibis in case they needed them? More often than not—on television anyway—the good guy, erroneously accused on circumstantial evidence, ended up in jail because he had no alibi. Well, he might have one, but if he did, he wasn’t sure it was going to be much help.
He’d seen the light go out in Jackson’s window, but he hadn’t seen Jackson, and he didn’t know whether or not Jackson had seen him. If he had, he’d seen him on the beach around two o’clock in the morning, alone, in the middle of the storm, bare-chested, looking like a madman. If that wasn’t suspicious, he didn’t know what was. Hell, he’d consider himself guilty based on the circumstantial evidence.
People would be looking to pin this on someone, and he was probably the number one choice. If Tony mentioned he’d gone after the woman, then they’d think he was crazy, and anything he said would be discredited. Guilty by reason of insanity? What a mess! Just how much store would the coroner and the police put in Jackson’s statement if he had one? He might be in big trouble here, and he was one hundred percent innocent.
The lights of Tyendinaga shone up ahead, and he made a right turn onto the road that led to Joseph Smoke’s two-story limestone house, one of the oldest houses on the reserve. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the welcoming lights in the windows. Thank God someone was home. He’d hate to have made the trip out here for nothing. He should have called. He looked at his watch. Well, four-thirty was a little early for supper. He’d be gone long before it was time to eat.
He parked the vehicle and ran up onto the covered porch. The door held an intricately designed doorknocker, and he used it. The sound reverberated. The door opened and a young blonde, several months pregnant by the looks of her, stood in the doorway. Did he have the wrong house? Smoke was almost eighty years old.
“Whatever brought you here in this weather must be important.” The woman’s words were friendly, her smile inviting.
“I’m not sure I’m at the right place. I’m looking for Joseph Smoke.”
She laughed and nodded. “You’ve got the right house. Come on in. Papa’s bow hunting in the den.”
The words made no sense. Who bow hunts in the house? Tony followed the woman down the hall.
“I’m Maggie, by the way, Joseph’s son Mike’s wife. They’re competing.”
She opened the door and the two men stood there facing the forty-six inch television currently be used to showcase the electronic game they we’re playing. The young man’s shot went wide, and Joseph laughed.
“Your family would go hungry if you had to feed them with your hunting skills.”
“Yeah well, the province pays me well, and Maggie can get lots of food for us all at the store. Sorry Pops, I’m a game warden, remember? I don’t believe in killing for sport. If I had to, I would, but I can get my steak from the butcher faster than off the hoof.”
“Papa, you have a guest,” Maggie interrupted probably in time to prevent an argument on traditions.
Joseph looked up, and his weather-worn face split into a grin. “Professor Steele, I wasn’t expecting you.” He sobered. “I heard about the drownings. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know the girl, but I’ve met her uncle, and he’s a man of honor. Mayor Ron,” he said the word as if it left a bad taste in his mouth, “says I have to speak to a coroner from Toronto for permission to purify the lake.”
/> “Thanks, Joseph. We’re all still in shock. Could I speak with you in private? I’d like your help with a personal matter.”
The old man looked at him with so much concentration Tony felt as if he was looking inside him. After a few minutes, he nodded.
“Come with me. Maggie, can you bring some willow bark tea.”
“Aren’t you feeling well?”
“No, daughter. It isn’t for me. The professor’s head hurts.”
“How did you know I had a headache?” Tony asked as soon as they were alone the private audience chamber, reminiscent of a long house. The walls were decorated in Mohawk motifs with the Peace Tree, symbol of the Mohawk Confederacy, easily recognizable. There were animal symbols for the various clans, with a large thunderbird dominating the others. Joseph’s family belonged to the bear clan. Hanging on the far wall was Joseph’s formal eagle feather headdress. Beside it hung his buckskins, and next to that his ceremonial ribbon shirt. This place must be an office or counselling chamber of some sort. Although Joseph wasn’t the tribe’s shaman, as an elder he commanded respect, and his opinion was often sought by others.
“Would you believe me if I told you the spirits told me?”
“I don’t know what I believe anymore.”
The old man sat in one of the two recliners and indicated the other. Joseph had an air of peace about him unlike so many of the people his age Tony knew at the university. Instead of being in a rush all the time, striving to prove he was still effective, still worthy of his title, Joseph was calm, satisfied with life. He wore jeans and a cowboy-styled chambray shirt in dark green. His hair was long and white, braided the way the woman’s had been in his dream. His face was as dark and wrinkled as old leather, testifying to his years at work in the sun. In his younger days, Joseph had been a sky walker, one of the Mohawks who worked on the New York City skyscrapers. He’d worked on the World Trade Center and, like many others, despite his age, he’d gone to New York to help in the aftermath of nine-eleven.
Echoes of the Past Page 5