Not taking the time to greet me, he bounded past to the nearest object, a mum-filled planter guarding the bottom of the wood stairs of a refurbished nineteenth-century triplex. It took several minutes for him to drain his bladder. Finally he turned back to me and clung to my side for reassurance, moaning. I guiltily showered him with hugs and pats as I filled a bowl with water and one with kibble. But other than a quick slurp, he was too upset to eat, so we snuggled until he calmed down. Meanwhile, Teht’aa was getting impatient.
“Come on, Meg,“ she persisted. “Get him in the car, and let’s get the hell out of here.”
“But it’s one in the morning. Don’t you think we should find a motel somewhere and get some sleep before driving back to Migiskan?”
“No way. I’ve gotta get out of here. I can’t stand another minute in this fuckin’ town. You stay if you want.”
This was hardly an option, since she had the car, but I wasn’t about to let her drive a hundred and fifty kilometres on her own in the dark, particularly given her mood. In her present state, she would speed faster than usual and end up wrapping Eric’s SUV around a tree. So after Sergei drank more water and ate a handful of kibble, I persuaded Teht’aa to let me drive while she kept Sergei company in the back seat. I was hoping his need for comfort might help settle her down.
And it did work, for she fell asleep, something I was doing my damnedest to avoid. But finally the dead silence of the car became too much for me, and after catching my eyes shutting one time too many, I tuned the radio to a station guaranteed to be playing loud rock and blasted it. So deep was Teht’aa’s sleep that she promptly returned to it, after muttering “Where are we?”
She did fully awaken when I stopped at the twenty-four-hour Tim Hortons on the highway before the turnoff to Somerset. I’d reached the point where a stiff jolt of caffeine was the only thing that would keep me awake for the last fifty kilometres. While Sergei continued to sleep in the back seat of the Jeep, Teht’aa came in with me to use the washroom and get a couple of Timbits to go with her tea. I’d ordered two cream-filled chocolate donuts along with a splash of French vanilla in my coffee.
For the next several kilometres we maintained our separate reveries as we munched our sugary treats and quaffed the caffeine.
Finally Teht’aa spoke up. “I’m sorry, Meg, if I got a little carried away back there, but those cops made me so angry. They were accusing me of being a prostitute and kept insisting that J.P. was my pimp.”
“Why on earth would they think that?” I asked. There’d been no similar accusation against me during my interrogation. I didn’t know whether to feel shocked or insulted.
“Only one reason. They think all squaws are whores.”
“I hope you threatened to go to the Human Rights Commission.”
“Yeah, I guess you know me, don’t you?” she chortled. “They kept saying that if I told them what I knew about the Black Devils, they wouldn’t charge me with prostitution.”
“Does this mean they think J.P.’s murder is linked to prostitution?”
“I don’t know. But they certainly gave me the impression that the Black Devils are heavily involved in the sex trade. Apparently, they’re linked to a couple of escort services in Ottawa and a massage parlour in Gatineau.”
“Did they think J.P.’s death was related?”
“Didn’t say. But, you know, Meg, I can’t help thinking that J.P.’s murder is linked to his inquiries about Fleur.”
“I know. I’ve been having the same thought. He must’ve learned something he wasn’t supposed to. I sure hope it doesn’t mean that Fleur has been coerced into being a prostitute.”
“I hope not either, but better that than being dead,” she replied succinctly.
“Yes, but if she’s still alive, how much longer will she be, now that they’ve killed her uncle?”
Unable to provide an answer, she lapsed into silence as the dark miles passed in a blur of illuminated foliage and yawning black holes. A pair of tiny headlights flared and disappeared into the underbrush.
Finally she voiced what I’d been wondering myself. “Do you think we could be in danger?”
“I suppose. It depends on whether J.P. mentioned us to anyone.”
I glanced out the rear window to double check for following headlights, something I’d been doing frequently since fleeing Ottawa. But since we’d turned off the main road onto the dirt road to Migiskan, only vacuous blackness filled the rearview mirror.
“Teht’aa, does oiseau vert or green bird mean anything to you?”
“No, it doesn’t. Why?”
“They were the last words J.P. said, plus another word I couldn’t quite make out. I’m convinced he was trying to tell me something.”
“If he’s referring to a real bird, I don’t know of any green birds that live around here, but you’re the bird expert.”
“I only know of the ruby-throated hummingbird, which is a luminescent green, and I suppose you could call some of the warblers green, although their feathers tend to be more a yellowy olive colour than a true green.”
At that point, my headlights lit up the fluorescent numbers on my mailbox. I slowed to turn into my road. “Do you want to go home or stay at my place?”
“I think I’d better get home in case there’s any news or messages from Dad. Why don’t you spend the night with me?”
Neither of us wanted to be alone.
Exhausted, I slept the sleep of the dead in Eric’s guest bedroom with Sergei hunkered down beside me, which brought back a host of memories, except it wasn’t Sergei who was sleeping beside me. Guns could’ve blazed around me, and I wouldn’t have heard them. In the morning I awoke to Teht’aa shaking me.
“Wake up, Meg. You’ve got to see this. I found it in Dad’s suitcase.” She held what looked to be a small box of wooden matches in front of my face. There appeared to be something green on the cover. I pushed her hand back to get a better view.
A saucy-eyed parrot stared back at me. He was a magnificent metallic green, and beside him were printed the words, also in metallic green, “Le Bar de l’Oiseau vert.”
Chapter
Thirty—Seven
Although the matchbox had no contact information for Le Bar de l’Oiseau vert printed on its cover, Teht’aa and I figured it could be readily found in the online phone directory. So without bothering with breakfast or even our morning coffee, we headed off to use the computer at the Migiskan Library, it being considerably closer than mine at Three Deer Point. But we were wrong. After failing to find the bar in Gatineau or even the province of Quebec, we tried Ottawa, then spread the search wider to Ontario. We even searched for “Green Bird Bar,” but without success. So we googled it and again came up empty, although we did come across The Green Parrot Bar in Dubai and another in Kuala Lumpur. We figured they were too far away to be linked to J.P. and Eric.
Since the library was in the same block as the police station, we decided to head over and bring Will Decontie into the loop in the hope that he could bring more sophisticated resources into play. Unfortunately, he was away for the day, but Sarah Smith, the young cop who’d brought the unwelcome news about Becky’s death to the Grandmother Moon ceremony, was sitting at the duty desk pounding away on the keyboard.
Patrolman Smith jumped as Teht’aa approached her. “Whoops, sorry. I didn’t hear you.” She scrambled up. “Gosh, Teht’aa, I’m so sorry about your dad. The Chief’s in Ottawa right now talking to the cops there about the case.”
Teht’aa tensed with hope. “Have they found something?”
“I think they have a witness who might’ve seen your dad.” Sarah bit her lower lip. “I … ah … I’m not sure if I’m supposed to tell you this.”
“Do you know who it is or where they saw him?”
Sarah shook her head. “I don’t really know anything other than the Chief drove to the Ottawa early this morning to talk to the guy.”
“Do you know where in Ottawa?”
“I’m sorry, Teht’aa, I wish I could help you, but I know as much as you do right now.”
As if she hadn’t heard the entreaty in Sarah’s voice, Teht’aa persisted. “Do you at least know if the guy saw him recently?”
The young cop glanced at me helplessly.
I interjected, “Teht’aa, I know you’re as anxious as I am to find your father alive and safe, but we’ll have to wait for Will before we can learn more. Meanwhile, maybe Sarah can help us in locating this bar.”
I told the young policewoman about J.P.’s dying words and the matchbox found in Eric’s suitcase. “Although I’ve suspected there was a link between Fleur’s disappearance and Eric’s, I think this common reference to the Green Bird proves it. I’m hoping if we follow this lead, we’ll find both of them.”
Sarah shrugged. “Makes sense to me. But what do you want me to do? The Chief wants me to follow up on the outstanding fines file today.”
“We’ve had no luck searching the Internet, but maybe you have other resources you can check?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure.”
“Teht’aa, did you bring the matchbox with you? Maybe someone will recognize the parrot logo.”
Sarah scanned the small box carefully. “He’s kinda cute, isn’t he? I suppose I could fax a copy of this to other police stations.” Then she peered at the box cover again. “You know, sometimes bars in hotels aren’t listed separately in the telephone directory. Maybe this bar is in a hotel?”
Teht’aa and I exchanged hopeful glances.
“I think you might be onto something, Sarah,” I replied. “It could also be in a private club or other type of social establishment. I would think the local police in any town would pretty well know the names of all the bars and lounges in their area. So why don’t you send it out?”
She walked over to the copier and placed the box cover-down on the glass. As the machine whirred, she said, “I’ll check the online police files for any reference to Le Bar de l’Oiseau vert. Could be it figured in another case.”
“Sounds good to me. Do whatever you can to locate this bar. I’m convinced it’s tied into Eric and Fleur’s disappearance.”
As Sarah passed the matchbox back to Teht’aa, she studied the copy. “You know, I could swear I’ve seen that bird before.”
“Where?” Teht’aa snapped.
“That’s what I’m trying to remember. I don’t know whether it was tied into another case or not. But he sure looks familiar. Except I don’t think he was on a matchbox. It was something else, larger … and I think it was from around here.” She tugged at her Kevlar vest. “Sorry.”
“Maybe you could ask around the community to see if anyone recognizes it?”
“Yeah, I suppose … after I send this out.” She glanced at the outstanding fines file she’d been working on.
“Please, Sarah, the information could save a life, two lives. Please give it your top priority.”
“Yeah, sure, of course. I want Chief Eric and Fleur to be found as much as you do.”
“Great, thanks. And I’m sure the Chief will forgive you for not working on the outstanding fines.”
She smiled. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s just tough knowing where to put your effort. I’ll let you know if anyone gets back to me. But this might take awhile, so please don’t expect an answer today, okay?”
We left her writing out a message for the other police forces and headed back onto the main street of Migiskan. A brisk wind was pushing low clouds across the sky, promising rain at any moment. Neither Teht’aa nor I were wearing rain jackets, but that didn’t prevent us from asking anyone we passed on our walk back to Eric’s bungalow if they recognized the saucy green parrot on the matchbox. All commiserated with Teht’aa on the disappearance of her father, but none recognized the bird or the name of the bar.
Drops began to fall. We continued asking but to no avail, until we ran into a neighbour of Eric’s. By then we were drenched.
“Yeah, sure I remember that crazy bird,” Al said between puffs on the cigarette dangling out of the corner of his mouth. Although not dressed for rain either, he didn’t seem to mind being soaked. “I seen it on a beer glass.”
“Where? Was it here on the rez?” Teht’aa asked.
“Yeah, it was. I’m pretty sure it was in your daddy’s house.” He blew out a stream of smoke.
Chapter
Thirty—Eight
"How stupid can I be.” Teht’aa stomped up the wooden stairs of her father’s house, shaking her head. “Of course, he has those damn beer glasses with the stupid parrot on them. I’ve drunk out of them a hundred times.”
She flung open the ochre door, almost tearing it off the hinges, and squelched through the living room to the kitchen, leaving a trail of muddy tracks behind her. Even though Eric wasn’t exactly a paragon of neatness, I knew he valued his pine flooring, so I left my wet shoes at the door.
I was trying to remember the glasses but couldn’t. He must’ve obtained them after we’d gone our separate ways.
She slapped four tall, slender glasses onto the counter, followed by two more. Each had a perfect rendition of the matchbox parrot painted in emerald green at the top of the glass. It was bordered on either side by a thin line encircling the rim of the glass. But that was all. The words Le Bar de l’Oiseau vert or even Green Bird or Parrot Bar didn’t appear anywhere on the glass.
“I don’t think I’ve seen these before,” I said. “Where did he get them?”
“That’s just it. I don’t remember.”
Damn. “Do you know how long he’s had them?”
“Sometime last fall. I think he brought them back from a fishing trip.”
She brushed a soggy strand of hair from her face. I could feel my own drenched curls plastered against my head, and drops dribbling down my face. I grabbed a dishtowel.
“Do you now where he went?”
“Nope. I don’t think I ever knew the name. It was some stupid fishing camp way the hell up north that he’d gone to for a week’s fishing.” She paced back and forth over the tiled kitchen floor, while I dried myself as best I could. “Damn, I should’ve asked him, but I was so ticked off that he’d taken off without telling me, I ignored him.”
“Do you know if anyone went with him? We could ask them.”
“I don’t know. If so, it wasn’t anyone from the rez.”
“Maybe his office will know.”
Her onyx eyes gleamed with hope. “I’ll call Jill at the band office.”
However, after a brief conversation, she slammed the phone back down. “Nope, she doesn’t know. She just remembers him being away fishing. Apparently, he brought her back a nice lake trout, which was more than he did for us. I guess he felt we needed the glasses more than we needed fish.”
“He might’ve told Will. We’ll get Sarah to have him call us from Ottawa. I don’t think we should wait until he gets home.”
“I agree. I’ll call her after I get out of these wet clothes. You should change too. I have some old sweats that should fit you.”
Yeah, ones that had probably bagged well beyond their original slim shape. No thanks. “I’m fine. These pants are synthetic, so they’ll dry quickly.”
I removed my wet fleece jacket and hung it over the back of a kitchen chair. Underneath, my light wool top was barely damp.
“Help yourself to coffee and toast or whatever you want for breakfast,” she called from the back of the house.
I glanced at Eric’s espresso machine and thought a latte would be just the thing to warm us both up. While I waited for the machine to power up, I decided to call Sarah myself. There was no point in waiting for Teht’aa to finish changing.
“I’m glad you called,” Sarah answered breathlessly, as if she’d been running to get the phone. “I was about to call you. I’ve remembered where I’ve seen that parrot. It was on some glasses.”
“We know about the glasses. They belong to Eric. Unfortunately, Teht’aa doesn’t know
where he got them from. That’s why I’m calling. We’re hoping Will might know.”
“But I didn’t see the parrot glasses at Chief Eric’s house.”
“Oh, there’s another set? Where?”
“I saw them a couple of months ago, when I was over at Wendy’s place for one of her Mary Kay evenings. You know, she’s become one of their sales reps.”
Yes, I knew. I had several pink tubes of anti-aging moisturizer and the like sitting unopened in my bathroom cabinet. “Great. Do you know where she got them from?”
“Not yet. Her phone’s on the fritz, so I was going to drive over there shortly.”
Forget the latte. “Teht’aa and I will meet you there.”
I hung up before she had a chance to say we couldn’t.
000
We splashed into the Whiteducks’ puddle-filled driveway just as the Migiskan First Nations Police Department SUV was turning onto their road. Teht’aa parked Eric’s Jeep beside a snowmobile with the track missing. Rain slithered over a couple of overturned canoes and drummed a staccato on the aluminum motorboat sitting on a trailer.
Wendy bounced out of her side door, a broad smile creasing her pudgy cheeks. “Hi. Great to see you guys. What brings you here?”
The smile vanished when she saw the police vehicle coming to a stop behind us. “Oh, no. Has something happened to George?”
“No, no,” I hastily interjected. “It’s a completely different matter. I’ll let Sarah tell you about it.”
The smile returned, but not showing the confidence with which she had welcomed us. “Why don’t you come in for some coffee then? I have some freshly made bannock.”
We traipsed into Wendy’s storey-and-half house, still a work in progress. While the front of the building was completely covered in dove-grey aluminum siding, the sidewall facing the drive had only been partially finished. Above the metre or so of siding, weathered plywood peeked through gaps in the protective covering.
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