Shallow End

by Brenda Chapman

  Naomi gave Ben a little shove and moved to block Adam’s view. “Nothing. Ben is just washing up for supper.” She pasted a smile on her face and bounded down the stairs into his arms. “How was the track meet? Did we win the trophy?”

  “Hey, take it easy.” But he was laughing and dropped the gym bag and grabbed her around the waist. “We placed third overall but got a few firsts in the hundred-yard dash and long jump. A good showing for my first time as a coach.”

  “Bravo!”

  His hand slipped lower over her rear end and she jumped. The last thing she wanted to do at this moment was replace the memory of Liam’s hands on her body with Adam’s. She slipped out from under his arm and ran her fingertips across his cheek as she stepped back. “I have supper to prepare. The kids are hungry.”

  “Haven’t they eaten yet?” He followed her down the hall into the kitchen.

  “They wanted to wait for you.” She picked up a spatula. “You’re awfully late by the way. What time was the track meet over?”

  He picked up some grated cheese and popped it into his mouth. He avoided her eyes. “Close to five, but I went to the gym on my way home.” He started walking toward the family room. “If we’re having omelettes, I’ll have a four-egger. I missed lunch.”

  “Coming right up,” she said, relieved that he wasn’t suspicious of her or the kids. He likely had his own sins to hide.

  She opened the freezer and took out the hash browns, her thoughts escaping this drudgery and back with Liam in his bachelor apartment, lying naked in the crook of his arm on his double bed while they checked their cellphones. She was already counting the hours until morning when she’d see him at school again.

  Jane stumbled up the stairs to her apartment, light-headed with fatigue and overcome by an overwhelming sense of loss. She knew that she was lucky Officer Stonechild hadn’t arrested her or reported her to anyone … yet. She’d taken the passports and car keys and told Jane that she’d be checking on her first thing in the morning and she’d better be available. Jane knew she wouldn’t be offered any more lifelines. Officer Stonechild could lose her job for letting her off with a warning, although she hadn’t seemed terribly concerned about any repercussions. She was like no other cop Jane had ever met.

  At the top of the stairs, Jane stopped, unable to take in what she was seeing. An enormous dread filled her. Spray-painted in red block letters across the door to her apartment was a single word: WHORE. The shock made her stagger back and lose her footing. She caught herself by grabbing on to the banister and clinging suspended over the stairs until she could pull herself back onto the step. Straightening, she leaned heavily on the railing and pulled herself to the landing. She approached the door slowly, as if walking toward living, breathing evil. She reached out trembling fingers to touch the paint. The lock to her apartment had been jimmied and the door swung open under her touch. Her fingers came away smeared in red. Whoever had done this had been here recently.

  She stood still, senses on alert and ready to flee. When she didn’t hear any noises from inside, she entered and surveyed what she could see from the doorway. She walked through the rooms, exhaustion replacing horror by the time she reached her bedroom. The intruder had been inventive, choosing from a list of nasty words that they’d spray-painted across the walls and mirrors in the bedroom and bathroom. Above her bed was spray-painted in cap-

  ital block letters: REPENT BITCH OR DIE.

  Jane lowered herself slowly onto the bed and curled up into a ball, clutching her knees and rolling onto her side. She pushed her face into the bedspread and tried to imagine herself in the car cutting across upstate New York with Ben and Olivia on their way to a new life. She tried to relive the feeling of them in her arms when she’d hugged and kissed them goodbye a block away from their home. But already the sensation was fading. The warmth of their arms around her neck wasn’t strong enough to erase the hatred in this room.

  She was too tired to even think about cleaning up the mess tonight. She wasn’t even sure what would take the words off the walls. They’d have to be repainted and she didn’t want to use her precious money on paint and rollers. She got up and shut the door to her apartment, turned off all the lights, and crawled back onto the bed. Her whole body was shaking as if she had a fever, but she was cold. So cold, she felt as if she’d never be warm again. She wrapped the blanket around herself and closed her eyes.

  When the rain started less than an hour later, she was still awake. She listened to large drops pattering on the roof and blowing against the bedroom window and wondered when the universe would reveal what terrible thing she’d done in her life to deserve all this heartache. Whether whatever god was calling the shots would ever stop punishing her and let her have some peace.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Kala felt guiltier about leaving Taiku alone as long as she had than she did about not arresting Jane Thompson. She arrived home at eight and expected to find him at the back door needing to get outside; instead, he was sleeping soundly on the couch when she stepped inside and took his time getting onto the floor and ambling over to greet her. She reached down and felt his nose but it was cool and wet. She crouched next to him and rested her head on his. “What is going on with you, boy?” Her guilt at having left him alone all day increased. She never had gotten him to the vet.

  She took Taiku outside and he disappeared into the darkness while she sat on the steps and waited. She pulled her phone out of her jacket pocket and saw the red light flashing. She accessed the voice message system and listened. Tiffany Hanson had called two hours earlier and wanted to talk … tonight. Tonight or never.

  Kala checked the incoming number and punched it in. Tiffany answered almost immediately, slightly out of breath. She said that she could meet Kala even though it was late, and Kala let her pick the location, which Tiffany insisted would not be her house. Ten minutes later, Kala and Taiku were on their way to meet her at a coffee shop on Princess Street.

  Luckily, a car pulled out of a parking spot close to the café and Kala pulled in before someone else snapped it up. She left Taiku lying on the passenger seat with the window open a crack. It was a cool, windy night and rain had started falling, but Taiku would be fine for half an hour. He seemed unusually sleepy tonight and his eyes were closed when she looked into the truck from the sidewalk.

  She’d arrived ahead of Tiffany and took the opportunity to order a chicken salad sandwich and carton of milk. She selected a table away from the windows and began eating. Tiffany walked in a few minutes later, shaking the rain out of her hair, a vision in black: leggings, army boots, pleated skirt, and jacket. The only colour breaking up the bleakness was her bright red lipstick. She ordered a tea from the counter and took the seat next to Kala, who was taking the last bite of her sandwich.

  “Your Mom okay with you being out this late on a school night?” Kala asked, wiping her mouth with a napkin.

  “She’s at bingo. Said she needed a distraction after today.”

  Kala thought back. The morning seemed like a lifetime ago. “That’s right. Charlie was interviewed.”

  “And held in a cell.” Tiffany spoke with right-

  eous indignation. “They can’t think he killed Devon. Never mind they were best friends.”

  Kala looked at Tiffany’s outraged face and thought about how to play this. “Charlie’s a suspect, but not the only suspect,” she said in a voice meant to convey hidden knowledge. She relaxed against the back of the chair and waited.

  “What about that teacher? Jane Thompson? It had to be her. Everyone says so.”

  “Not everyone. We have evidence …” She let her voice trail off.

  “Then, it’s wrong! Charlie never killed Devon.” Tiffany’s eyes narrowed as she studied Kala. She looked to be weighing what Kala said and assessing her next move. “What if I told you the truth about Devon? Would you lay off Charlie?”

  “De
pends on what you tell me.”

  Tiffany was quiet but her face was going through contortions as a battle raged within. Kala knew exactly what was going on inside Tiffany’s head because she’d thought the same way back in the day. Cops were the enemy, not to be trusted, but the trouble Tiffany’s brother was in meant giving over to the lesser threat. Kala sat silently and her patience was rewarded.

  “You have to promise me you’ll look out for Charlie.”

  “I’ll do what I can.”

  “Devon Eton was nothing like what he showed on the surface.”

  “No? In what way?”

  Tiffany squirmed in her chair. She bit off a hangnail. “Charlie was scared of him … hell, I was scared of him. He had no conscience, you know? Like he did things, sneaky, evil things, and he had a way of making everyone look guilty for things he’d done. Charlie told me that Devon would figure out what meant the most to somebody and then he’d hurt them.”

  “You’re going to have to give me some examples.”

  “You have to understand, Charlie was just a kid when he met Devon, and he didn’t have any idea how he was being manipulated. At first, he was so happy to have this upper-class, good-looking boy even want to be his friend that he was like a little puppy, all tail-wagging and doing whatever Devon wanted. It was innocent boy stuff at first. Shoplift a candy bar from Mac’s Milk. Upend a garbage can in somebody’s driveway. Things like that. Then, it started getting uglier.”

  “Were you aware this was going on?”

  Tiffany shook her head. “Not really. I’m three years younger than Charlie, remember? Charlie is quiet, anyhow, like really introverted. I began to know everything wasn’t as it seemed around that teacher’s trial. Charlie was thirteen and I was ten, but he started acting weird. Guilty of something and really withdrawn.”

  A coldness spread through Kala as if a blast of ice water was suddenly pumped through her veins. They were heading into territory she’d considered but discarded. Maybe, a part of her had always suspected. She asked in a flat voice, “Did Devon make up the story about Mrs. Thompson and force Charlie to go along with it?”

  Tiffany’s eyes were pleading for Kala to understand. “Charlie didn’t want to do it, but he had no choice. He only told me this year because of other stuff. That teacher was getting out anyhow so … well, it didn’t seem worth saying anything now. You can’t do anything to him, you know, for lying, can you? I mean, he should have stood up to Devon, but at the time, he didn’t think he had a choice. He was scared.”

  Let Charlie off scot-free after lying and putting an innocent woman away for four years? For ruining her life? Kala closed her eyes and breathed deeply to calm her anger. Jane Thompson’s release from prison didn’t end her punishment even if Tiffany wanted to believe it did to ease her conscience. She opened her eyes and stared at Tiffany, who was staring back with a look of defiance. Kala calmly asked, “What other stuff?”

  “Charlie wouldn’t tell me. He said Devon was capable of anything and wanted to get away from him. They weren’t friends like I told you before. It was an act.”

  Kala detected a subtle change in Tiffany’s eyes and her body language and could tell that she was lying. The question was, lying about which part of her story? She asked, “Where’s Charlie now?”

  “Home getting stoned and listening to head-banger music.” She gave a lopsided half-grin. “I guess I shouldn’t be telling you that.”

  “Probably the least of his worries. Did he give any reason for Devon setting up Mrs. Thompson?”

  “She gave him a bad mark.”

  “That was it?”

  “That was it.”

  “Wow.” Kala thought she was beyond being surprised by the depravity of human behaviour but obviously not. If true, Devon Eton had been seriously twisted at a young age.

  Tiffany bit off another nail. She looked at Kala with her raccoon eyes. “Devon had this thing about being superior to everyone and he’d go ballistic about the stupidest shit. The first time I saw that side of him was last summer when Charlie, Devon, and I were hanging out one Friday night. He said this girl in one of his classes had been rude to him so we went over to her house and Devon slashed all the tires on her car and her parents’ car. I was freaked out but Charlie said to let it go. He said she’d gotten off light.”

  “I don’t understand why Charlie kept up the facade that they were friends. Do you have any insight?”

  “I already told you. He was scared. To bits. So now you know why that teacher killed Devon. She was getting even.”

  “That’s definitely one possibility. This information turns the investigation on its head, Tiffany. We’ll have to reassess.” Kala didn’t want to point out that it gave Charlie a compelling reason to kill Devon, as well. “Will you repeat what you told me to the other investigators?”

  “I guess, yeah.”

  “I’m also going to need to speak with Charlie again. Does he know you’re here?”

  “He doesn’t know. I can try to convince him to talk to you.” She paused. “He won’t be in good shape tonight, though.”

  “As you said. Let him know that my partner and I will be by in the morning. Hopefully, you’ll be able to impress upon your brother the need to be truthful by the time we get there.” She paused and tried to put her finger on what was bothering her about Tiffany’s confession. She asked, “Why now?”

  “You mean, why tell you this now?”

  “Yeah, why now?”

  “Because Charlie’s going to be nailed with this murder and I don’t want to see that happen. It’ll destroy Mom. Charlie isn’t innocent of a lot of things, but he’s not a killer.” She flattened her empty cup with the palm of her hand. “Although if you ask me, whoever rid the world of Devon Eton deserves a gold medal.”

  Kala called Gundersund and Rouleau as soon as she dropped Tiffany off at home. Tiffany’s revelation weighed heavily and needed to be shared before morning. Both agreed to meet her at the Merchant without asking for details. She guessed they’d heard something in her voice.

  The rain was coming down in torrents as she backtracked to Princess Street and the pub near the waterfront. Hardly anybody was on the road and the streetlights were ghostly pale in the mist and rain. She could see the light reflecting off the slick black roads, the puddles looking like pooled oil. Sodden leaves filled the gutters and sidewalks. Taiku nuzzled up next to her, his big head resting warmly against her thigh. She was glad for his presence on this dark autumn night that had her feeling alone and on edge.

  She parked as close to the Merchant as she could to get a view of the front door and slumped in the front seat, waiting for either Rouleau or Gundersund to arrive. She spoke soothing words to Taiku, telling him what a good boy he was as she rubbed his head. When she spotted Rouleau in his black trench coat, she ran her hand through Taiku’s fur one last time and told him she’d be back soon. Rouleau had already disappeared inside by the time she climbed out of the truck into the driving rain.

  She entered the Merchant and stood shaking the rainwater out of her hair as she walked down the short hallway. Rouleau had chosen their usual table in the bar to the right of the entrance. The bar was nearly empty but she would have been surprised to see many patrons. This weather was bad for business. Kala joined Rouleau, and Gundersund arrived a few minutes later. He’d been on his way home from downtown when Kala called and the trip to the Merchant was quicker than it would have been otherwise.

  “Well, what have you got?” Rouleau asked once the waitress brought their drinks.

  Kala outlined what Tiffany had told her and could see the impact of her confession in their faces. They took a moment to think over the implications while Rouleau and Gundersund each took a long drink of beer.

  Rouleau said, “Jane Thompson was sentenced to three years in prison for something she didn’t do. Why did she confess?”

  �
��She kept saying she was innocent and only confessed after she was in prison. Adam divorced her after her confession but she got out a year earlier than she would have,” said Gundersund. He rubbed the scar on his cheek as he thought out loud.

  “She must have given up hope of being believed and confessed to lessen her sentence. The judge gave her such a harsh punishment because he said she didn’t own what she did and showed no remorse,” Kala added. “Should we be going over to tell her tonight that we know Charlie and Devon were lying? I hate thinking that she has to believe we think she’s guilty for one minute more than necessary.” She chose to keep Jane’s run to the border with her kids to herself. Nothing could be gained from sharing the story, or that’s what she told herself.

  Rouleau tore the label from his beer bottle. “If Devon was the monster Tiffany now tells us he was, he appears to have been good at hiding it from his classmates, teachers, and family. Do you both buy that?”

  “You’re asking if Tiffany and Charlie concocted this story for some reason?” Kala asked. When Rouleau nodded, she said, “But why? Tiffany was willing to tell me that Charlie had lied about Devon and his teacher even though it could get Charlie into a lot of trouble.”

  Rouleau continued playing devil’s advocate. “We had Charlie in a cell to shake him up but maybe it shook Tiffany more. She thought Charlie was going to be charged with Devon’s murder. Maybe, she’s using this as a diversion. She must have thought her confession would help Charlie in some way.”

  “Tiffany told me that this proved Jane was taking revenge out on Devon for ruining her life,” Kala conceded. She tried to picture Tiffany’s face when she’d said it. Kala had had the feeling Tiffany was holding something back, trading this bit of a confession for … what? Perhaps Rouleau was right in his questions. Tiffany was trying to get them heading down a track away from something she didn’t want them to know.

  “I’ll send someone to pick up Charlie and Tiffany first thing tomorrow and want you both to interview them. You’ll need to also speak with Devon’s parents again to find out if there could be any truth to this. Hold off on speaking to Jane until we have some formal confessions from the two of them. No point giving Jane false hope if they decide not to co-operate tomorrow.”