“If it was a male teacher and a female student, they’d lock the teacher away and pitch the key into Lake Ontario,” said Woodhouse as he stood up. “Appears to be a double standard for pedophiles based on your particular gender.”
“You’re actually right about that,” said Gundersund. “Male teachers are dealt with much more harshly in the courts, both in Canada and the U.S.”
“And in public opinion,” said Bennett.
“Wasn’t there a woman teacher in the U.S. who kept getting caught with her student every time she got out of the pen? I think she had his baby in prison. Whatever happened to her and the student?” Woodhouse asked.
Gundersund took out his cellphone. “They got married. She got seven years after she was caught with him after serving her first six-month sentence. When he turned eighteen, they got married. He was twelve years old and she was married with four kids when they hooked up the first time.”
Woodhouse shook his head as he got to his feet. “Man, I just don’t get it. Saddling yourself with a sad old lady when you’re still a kid. He missed out on all the firm young flesh at his randy disposal.”
Gundersund tried to signal Bennett with his eyes to let it rest but he was too late to stop Bennett from taking the bait. “Christ, Woodhouse. You really are a disgusting excuse of a man.” Bennett pushed past his partner, who dropped back into his seat clutching his stomach. Woodhouse’s laughter followed Gundersund and Bennett like a cackling crow all the way back to their desks.
Kala hung up the desk phone and reached for her jacket slung across the back of her chair. “I spoke with the secretary at Sophie’s school. Sophie didn’t make it in today and hasn’t been in class all week. We can take a run to the Etons’ and hopefully get a chance to speak with her.”
“I’ll be right with you,” Gundersund said, covering his cellphone with his hand. He switched the phone to his other ear and said, “I’ve got to go. Yeah, I’ll meet you for supper at The Keg. I’ll be there but I don’t have time to talk right now.”
Kala could have sworn Gundersund’s eyes were sheepish when he looked her way. “Fiona?” she asked.
“Yeah.” His jaw tightened. He stood and motioned with his hand for her to lead the way. “Let’s get going.”
And that’ll be the end of searching for a family lawyer, Kala thought. Fiona wins another round.
Gundersund drove. He didn’t say anything as they headed down Division to Union, turning west and winding through the university campus until they reached Beverley Street. Kala used the time to run the facts of the case through her mind. She was comfortable with Gundersund’s silence, yet something about the closed-off look on his face made her think he had worries beyond the case. She took quick peeks at him as he drove, trying to guess what was eating at him. It couldn’t be his marriage, which appeared to be improving if he was having supper with Fiona. She was glad now that she hadn’t asked him over for dinner as she’d planned that morning when she pulled a couple of steaks from the freezer.
He pulled into a parking spot across the street from the Eton house. The day was an autumn jewel with clear blue sky and vibrant red, orange, and yellow foliage. Kala stepped out of the car and crunched leaves with her boots as she followed Gundersund across the street. An ancient oak had shed its leaves like rain overnight and stood dark and barren amongst its counterparts. The tree was dying and would have to be cut down before long.
“You should take the lead with Sophie,” Gundersund said, waiting for her to catch up.
“If you like. I don’t see any cars in the driveway.”
The house had an empty feel to it and she wasn’t surprised when their knocks on the front door went unanswered.
“Let’s swing by Mitchell Eton’s workplace and see if he knows where they are,” Gundersund said as he clumped down the steps behind her. “If we have to come back later, Charlie Hanson might be home from school and we can kill two birds with one stone. You okay working a bit of overtime?”
“Sure. We could pay a visit to Jane Thompson. She should be at work. What about your dinner with Fiona?”
“She’ll understand if I’m running late. Woodhouse and Bennett are doing more background work on Jane. Maybe we should wait until they’ve finished before we approach her again.”
Kala sighed. She wanted to get something going on this case but every lead had been a dead end and now they were playing hurry up and wait. “Fine,” she said, “although it sure would be nice if we could stop chasing our tails and figure out what Devon Eton was doing Monday night after school that got him killed.”
“I’m with you on that,” said Gundersund. “We’re almost a week into this case and no closer to solving it.”
Kala looked both ways before starting across the street. She glanced back at him and smiled as she stepped off the sidewalk. “Well, we might be frustrated with the pace, but nobody on the team can say that they’re bored anymore.”
“I’ll give you that,” he said. “This beats the long summer of twiddling our thumbs. Too bad it’s at the expense of a dead seventeen-year-old boy.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Fiday morning, Naomi woke with stomach cramps. Rolling spasms in her lower belly that were uncomfortable but manageable on the pain scale. The cramps were a monthly occurrence that she tolerated stoically since she could do little about them. She reached a hand across the bed to feel for Adam before remembering that he’d gone in early to help with preparations for a track meet. He’d been running with the students every morning before school started, beginning in late September. Naomi lay for a moment collecting her thoughts. She’d promised him the night before that she’d get the kids off to school and already could hear them stirring in their bedrooms. Adam would be displeased if he found out she hadn’t followed through.
Slowly, she rolled onto her side and swung her legs over the bed frame. A phone call to the school dispatcher and then she was in the shower, which helped to relieve the ache but not enough to change her decision to take a day off. She wasn’t well enough to face a classroom full of boisterous fourth graders. It wasn’t as if she ever used up her quota of sick leave. She’d earned a day to herself.
She chanced Adam’s cold anger and told Ben and Olivia that she wasn’t feeling well, and they’d have to get their own breakfast and see themselves off to school. God knows, it wouldn’t kill them to fend for themselves for once. Their father coddled them outrageously and expected her to do the same when he wasn’t around. His strict devotion to them was beginning to wear on her patience.
She could hear them clumping around in the kitchen, talking and laughing like they did when they didn’t know that she was in the house. Her stomach had stopped hurting since her period started but she felt lethargic and snuggled under the covers. Yes, a day off was what she needed. Life had been stressful since Jane got out of prison. Adam had always been hard to read — one of the things she liked about him, truth be told — but since Devon’s murder, he’d been downright un-
approachable. More brooding than Heathcliff.
Some running up and down stairs and finally the front door slammed as the kids raced out to catch their school bus that would take them to Calvin Park Public. Silence filled the house like a thick blanket. Naomi turned and looked over at the clock. Quarter to nine. She sat up and stretched. An entire day ahead with no obligations and nobody to bother her. She threw off the covers and wriggled out of her silk nightgown. No matter that she’d had a shower. A soak in a bubble bath would make her feel better and then … well, then she’d do whatever she damn well pleased.
By eleven o’clock, she’d read a magazine in the tub for half an hour, drunk a pot of tea, read the paper, and watched Mike Holmes fix someone’s disaster of a house on the Home and Garden channel. Four trips to the kitchen for something to eat, and twenty minutes into watching Whoopi on The View, and she was officially out-of-her-mind bored. How did peopl
e stay home all day and not go crazy?
She looked around the living room from where she sat slouched on the couch. Jane had decorated the house and Adam hadn’t wanted to change anything. “The kids don’t need to go through any more trauma” was how he’d put it when she’d brought out a furniture brochure from Urban Barn. Jane’s taste had run to clunky traditional pieces — browns and beiges with splashes of garish red. Naomi would have chosen a grey palette for this space with modern, sleek lines. Maybe some nice sapphire blue cushions and modern prints for the walls. Update this Silver Street seventies infill.
She knew that she should have warmed to Ben and Olivia more than she had. Their features and colouring, so like Jane’s, put her off every time she looked at them. They watched her with defiant, untrusting eyes and never hesitated to undermine her with Adam whenever they saw an opening. The problem wasn’t whether or not she liked kids — which she did. It was that in particular she didn’t like these two kids. They took up too much of Adam’s focus and were always underfoot. They were ungrateful, trailing their messes all over the house for her to clean up after them.
The door to Adam’s den on the other side of the kitchen was shut as usual. Adam locked it whenever he was finished working on his computer, which he liked to do some evenings and on the weekends. He said that he needed a private space that he knew wasn’t being invaded by the kids. She had an uneasy feeling that he sometimes put her into the same category, but then she’d remember his touch when they were alone in his big bed. He didn’t treat her like a child when her tongue flicked across his chest, that was for sure. Adam kept student files in his den and said that he had to ensure student privacy was not breached. Naomi stared at the door, willing it to open. The idea of breaching student privacy was a bit of a stretch. Who was going to make off with the information? Her? Ben and Olivia?
She crossed the kitchen floor and paused in front of the office door, nervous enough to check behind her to make certain that nobody had entered the house unnoticed. If one of the kids saw her, they’d report her to Adam in a heartbeat. The tap was dripping in the kitchen sink, but other than that, the house was silent. She raised her hand to try the doorknob. A mix of surprise, delight, and finally, uneasiness coursed through her when the handle turned and the door opened. She checked over her shoulder again and stepped inside.
This was the only space in the house where Jane’s old-fashioned taste wasn’t staring you in the face because Adam had decorated this room himself. A toffee-coloured leather chair with a footstool sat in front of the window with an antique walnut desk taking up the other half of the room. Framed photographs of Ben and Olivia were on the walls as well as two taken with Jane when they were one big happy family. In the blown-up photo, Jane’s smile was wide and open, her arms wrapped around Olivia with Ben next to her, his skinny arms twined around her neck. Their three blond heads and clone-blue eyes must have been focused on Adam, who would have been behind the camera urging them to smile. Naomi would have preferred if he’d taken that picture down. She felt jealous at the possible reason why he hadn’t.
Adam had positioned the desk so that he looked out the window into the back garden when he sat typing on his computer. Her eyes jumped to the screen saver. Balloons in primary colours were drifting skyward at regular intervals. Had Adam forgotten to log off? He must have been called away quickly to leave the door unlocked, and he’d forgotten to return and shut things down. She stood still for a moment, thinking about the wisdom of what she was about to do.
“Well, if he has nothing to hide …” she said aloud before crossing to his desk. She didn’t dare move anything in case Adam noticed such things about his space. She clicked the keyboard and the screen saver disappeared, replaced by a lesson plan he’d been working on. She leaned closer. He’d been making notes on a history game he was going to use later in the week. She hit the icon on the top of the page to minimize it and the main page appeared in its place. She clicked on the photo icon, curious to see what he kept on file after seeing Jane’s face still hanging on the wall.
The photos were arranged in subfolders by date. The most recent was two days before. She opened the yellow file folder and tried to comprehend what she was seeing. A string of snapshots taken with a telephoto lens of … she enlarged one and squinted … a woman with short blond hair. Her face turned toward the camera in the next photo and Naomi held a hand to her mouth. Jane. He’d been taking pictures secretly of his ex-wife as she waited for a bus. Naomi checked the date and time stamps. He’d taken them after work when he said he’d had a meeting. She moved the arrow and clicked on each photo in sequence. Jane was skinny as a rail in a grey T-shirt and black track pants, her eyes hidden behind oversized black sunglasses. Her hair was short and messy, making her almost unrecognizable … but still gorgeous in her ethereal, waif-like way. Naomi thought she might very well hate her. A second folder dated two weeks earlier contained a series of photos of Jane walking downtown. He must have been positioned in his car on the side of the street by the angle of the photos. She moved the arrow over to the file marked Monday and hesitated. Monday was the day that boy was killed. Adam said he’d been at the gym all evening. Had he lied about that too?
She closed her eyes and clicked. Before she could look at the screen, the sound of the deadbolt shooting open in the next room made her jump like a scared rabbit. Her thigh banged hard against the desk. She stifled a scream with her hand and searched the room for somewhere to hide. The only place was under the desk, but that would be crazy. If Adam came into the house and found her there, she’d look guilty as hell. Her next thought was to start running. Run out of the room, out of the kitchen, and out of this house. Leave lying Adam and his coddled kids and never come back. She looked toward the open office door while her fingers hit the keys to shut down the photo album. She even remembered to enlarge the lesson plan that Adam had been working on before she skittered across the floor and slipped out of the room.
A heavy-set woman was standing in the doorway with her back to the kitchen. She was bent over, placing her shoes on the mat. She straightened, lifting a pail as she did so and turning. Her eyes swept the kitchen and found Naomi standing frozen against the wall. The woman let out a yelp. She grabbed her chest and dropped the bucket of cleaning supplies that she was holding in front of her. The bucket rolled and its contents scattered. “You gave me a fright,” she said in Naomi’s direction as the fear left her face. She knelt to start picking up bottles. “Nobody’s ever here when I come.”
Naomi rushed over and picked up a container of Vim that had reached the dishwasher. “I’m so sorry. You must be Myrna. I forgot that you came on Fridays to clean.” She handed over the bottle. “I have a day off.” She was angry that her voice was so apologetic.
“Mr. Thompson told me about you,” Myrna said. Her rheumy eyes settled on a point over Naomi’s right shoulder. “I wasn’t sure you were still holding Jane’s place now that she’s out of jail.” She dropped Mr. Clean into the pail with a thud and motioned toward the door. “Well, I have my system. I’ll be starting in the kitchen and I’ll do your bedroom last so you might want to make yourself scarce.”
“Thanks,” Naomi heard herself say. “I’ll be in my room until you tell me to move.”
Kala and Gundersund returned to the station after
they tracked down Mitchell at his office and he told them that Hilary had taken Sophie to visit her grandparents in Coburg until Sunday morning.
“Not a great move when we have a murder investigation going on,” Gundersund said to him.
“Neither of them is coping so I wanted them to have a break before Devon’s funeral,” Mitchell said. “I could answer your questions if you like.”
“We’ll come by on Sunday.” Kala signalled to Gundersund to let it rest and they’d left without further comment.
They spent the afternoon working on a court case at which they had to appear the following week, and got i
nto their separate vehicles at four thirty to rendezvous at the Hansons’. They’d need both vehicles so that Gundersund could make his dinner date with Fiona while Kala would head directly home to let Taiku outside.
She followed him through the downtown and along the side streets until he slowed and turned onto Macdonnell. He found a space halfway down the street and she parked her truck a few vehicle lengths in front of him, between a van and a motorcycle. They got out at the same time and met in the middle of the road. She looked at the Hanson house and waited for the bad feeling to return, but it didn’t.
“The hedge looks like it’s grown half a foot since we were here last,” Gundersund said. They crossed to the sidewalk. “I saw a curtain move in the living room.”
“So much for our sneak attack.”
“Mom’s working,” said Tiffany when she opened the door. She was wearing tight ripped jeans and a crop top that showed off a pierced belly button. Her curiously coloured eyes were surrounded in thick liner and dark shadows that gave her a raccoon-like stare. She started to close the door before Gundersund’s foot intervened.
“We’re here to speak with your brother, Charlie. Is he home from school?”
“Yeah, I guess. My mother might not like you talking to him without her here, but she’ll get over it. He is eighteen after all.”
Kala asked, “Mind if we step inside? We can talk to him in the hallway. We only have a few follow-up questions.”
Tiffany shrugged. “Sure, why not?” She left them in the narrow corridor and walked to the bottom of the stairs. “Charlie!” she called. “Cops here to see you.” She turned and smiled at them, and for the eeriest of moments, Kala felt like she was looking at one of the girls she’d known in foster care. “Go up if he doesn’t come down,” she said before she disappeared into the back of the house.
“Do you think her mother approves of that makeup?” Gundersund asked. “I’d take a face cloth to her if I were her dad.”
Shallow End Page 11