When the Flood Falls

by J. E. Barnard

  “I didn’t know.” So, the judgmental ex-Mountie has a weakness after all. Trying not to be glad of that, Jan went on, “I was thinking of her being able to get to the hospital.”

  “Off to your lounger while I shave,” said Terry. “Sing out if you see Lacey moving. I don’t want to phone while she’s still asleep.”

  When Dee’s dogs sent up howls from their kennel, Jan looked down the hill to see Lacey on Dee’s porch. She called out to let Terry know and heard him on the phone. But Lacey had no news to share and was soon away in Dee’s Lexus. Back to the hospital, surely.

  Jake passed with the setters an hour later. Jan knew Terry had already updated him on Dee so it wasn’t a surprise that he merely waved and rode on. His guests, if they knew about the possible bridge closure, weren’t making a mass exodus. Jake could get supplies in by helicopter. His west lawn was big enough for a whole flock of whirlybirds.

  Rob arrived before supper, bearing food and news. “The Mounties still have the stable road blocked. They’re going door-to-door seeking witnesses, too. Poor Dee. What’s the latest?” Jan filled him in while he chopped, stirred, and seared dinner. All fresh foods, no preservatives or colourings to trigger her food sensitivities. Dear Rob. He said, “I hate to seem selfish by worrying about my job, but do you think they’ll extend me without Dee to push for it?”

  “That lot? Until they’ve got another party planned, you’ll be lucky if anyone shows up to countersign the checks. Just keep on keeping on as long as you can. How’s the place look after the big bash, anyway?”

  “It looks fine, but I think that high river is pushing back on the sewer system. There’s an intermittently foul odour wafting up the elevator shaft. I might have to get the plumbers in.” He dragged out another pot and slapped in a slab of butter. “At least the vault temperature controls are settling. Today’s facilities readout shows them almost back to normal range. One less thing for that vault guy to complain about when he finally gets back here to fix the racks.”

  As supper ended, a Mountie’s arrival shook them all out of their exhausted silence. Terry brought him to the kitchen. “He wants to know if any of us saw any red vehicles in the vicinity yesterday.”

  Jan thought. “Eddie Beal’s old truck is reddish, though that’s mostly rust. There’s a couple of dark-red SUVs around in town. As for cars, the only one I can think of is Jarrad’s Corvette.”

  “He’s not here,” said Terry. “He went south on the Stanley Cup golf junket. His car is probably still sitting at the museum.”

  “No, he missed the plane. Someone phoned the party looking for him. And his car wasn’t in the parking lot when I got up yesterday.”

  Terry shook his head. “I saw it on my run yesterday. It’s impossible to mistake a classic Stingray.”

  The Mountie was taking notes. “A red Corvette Stingray? And the owner’s name? What time did you notice it gone, ma’am?”

  “Sunday morning.”

  Terry shook his head. “The car was still in the parking lot at four.”

  Jan shrugged. “Maybe he went back, took a walk along the river, or looked for his picture in the hockey paintings.”

  “Jarrad looking at art. That’ll be the day.”

  “Guys,” said Rob. “The nice man is waiting. If this particular car is important, its movements will be on the museum’s security footage. Anyone else with a red car?”

  Jan bit her lip. “Dee’s ex has one. But he lives in Calgary now.”

  “He used to drive a red Grand Am,” said Terry, giving her a sideways glance that wasn’t altogether friendly. After showing the Mountie out, he came back and glared at his wife. “Why’d you bring up Neil? Have you seen him out here lately?”

  “Not for months. But he has a red car.”

  “Did. He may be a greedy prick, but he wouldn’t hurt Dee.”

  “He’s an asshole. Even if he didn’t do it, he can sweat for a bit.”

  “You sent the cops after him for proxy revenge? Dee won’t thank you.”

  Rob’s head was flipping between them like a tennis spectator’s. “You two suffering from adrenalin poisoning? Uncle Rob recommends you both go pick a nice escapist movie, and I’ll make tea.”

  When he brought a tray to the living room ten minutes later, he went right back to his chief interest: gossip. “Divine Dee has a nasty ex? What on earth did he do?”

  “Didn’t like it that Dee made more money than him,” said Terry. “So the slimeball took up with her secretary and let everybody in the company know it. When she found out and tossed him, he sued for spousal support. No-fault divorce rules mean he’s living high off the woman he cheated on. The no-class bastard.”

  “No shame,” Rob agreed. “Dee’s too good for that. She was showing me around her house the other night. Her office has maps of battlefields, model ships with all sails flying, even a bust of Admiral Nelson. Or was it his stuff?”

  “It’s hers,” said Jan. “She’s the only woman I know who has every line of Master and Commander memorized. The dogs’ names are a clue, too. Boney, for Napoleon — blue collar, like his uniform. Beau, as in Beau Douro — did you know that was one of the Duke of Wellington’s nicknames? I didn’t — has the red collar. And Duke, also as in Wellington, the poor old beastie.”

  “I must have missed Duke. There were only two dogs the other night.”

  “Duke died last winter,” said Jan. “Jarrad’s fault. He nearly creamed them all and didn’t even stop, the punk. Hid his old car to avoid charges. Then Mick bought him the Corvette. Talk about rewarding bad behaviour. Scary, Dee getting hit again so close to the site of the first accident. I hope she’ll be okay.”

  Scary didn’t begin to cover it, but Jan knew if she let herself go, she would cry and rage until she was too exhausted to move again. She was barely able to get her feet under her as it was.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The bridge over the Elbow River was still open on Tuesday after lunch, when Lacey returned from Calgary. She white-knuckled over it, trying not to look at the churning brown water so close to the bridge deck, then drove up to the house and sat, too tired to get out of the car. The night nurses had turned a blind eye to her snoozing at Dee’s bedside, but this morning’s guy said Dee would not be waking today. Lacey was free, he added, to go home for a shower.

  What would she find in the house this time? Monday morning she’d found all the drawers in Dee’s bedroom open, their contents tumbled about. Lacey hadn’t looked in the room since Friday, so she couldn’t say if Dee normally left it like that. The napkin drawer on Sunday still nagged at her, as did Dee’s purse. Had it been moved, or had she imagined it on the stool because that was where it usually hung? Dee wasn’t awake to ask and probably wouldn’t remember how she’d left things, anyway. This was all too reminiscent of the weeks Lacey had spent after Dan moved out, walking from room to room to look for evidence he’d been snooping around while she was at work. She couldn’t afford to install security to watch this house while she hung out at the hospital watching Dee. Maybe Wayne would lend her alarms temporarily.

  She got out of the car and almost fell right back in as Boney headbutted her in the stomach. “Oof! What are you doing out?” She reached for his collar without much hope, sure he’d run off. Instead, he abruptly sat down beside her, tongue lolling and head cocked. Jake Wyman and another man rode up the drive on glossy brownish-red horses, with Beau strolling sedately alongside. Jake threw his reins to his younger companion and dismounted, tucking a silver whistle into his sleeve as he landed.

  “G’day, Miss. I hear Dee-Dee isn’t awake yet?”

  “No. They’ll start easing off her sedation tonight, so maybe tomorrow.”

  “How come they tell you so much, and give me nothing but ‘stable condition’?”

  “I said I was her sister.” She hadn’t hesitated to lie, not with Dee’s next of kin being he
r sick mother in St. John’s and her only local semi-kin being that skunk, Neil.

  “Smart. You’ll keep Terry in the loop, right?”

  Taking her agreement for granted, Jake snapped his fingers and went off around the porch, the dogs following.

  After some silent fidgeting with the loose end of his reins, the young man said, “I’m real sorry about this. None of us thought Jarrad would go this far. He said he was coming home to do a dance on somebody, but we never guessed it was Ms. Phillips. I mean, it was only a windshield.”

  “What windshield?” When he chewed his lip instead of answering, Lacey fixed him with her best cold cop’s eyeball. “Tell me the about the windshield. From the beginning.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Jarrad killed Ms. Phillips’s dog last winter — an accident, honest, but still, he should have owned up right away and said sorry. Next time he came home, she was at the golf course parking lot when he drove in. I don’t know what was said, but she put a five iron through the windshield of the Stingray. That car was like his brand-new baby. She paid for the repair, though. So it shoulda been over, right?”

  Calm, collected Dee had put a golf club through Jarrad’s windshield? Talk about handing his defence lawyers ammunition. “You think he ran over Dee to get back at her?”

  “You didn’t hear? Oh, shit. Sorry, ma’am. The cops came up looking for his car last night. I just assumed …” The hockey player looked beyond her and closed his mouth.

  “You assumed too much.”

  How Jake had come so quietly across the planks in cowboy boots was anybody’s guess. “Ma’am, I’m sorry if this young fella upset you. It was police routine, checking up on red cars, and someone told them about Jarrad’s. I’ll make sure he talks to the police as soon as he surfaces. But he won’t have anything useful to say.” He touched his hat brim and remounted his horse. “I’ll be down in the morning for the dogs. Good day to you, ma’am.”

  Lacey stared at the horses’ rumps as they receded. The investigators should hear about the windshield. Her money was still on Neil, but the odds had changed. She found the card for the officer in charge on Dee’s hit and run, left a message about Jarrad, and asked if they had checked the whereabouts of Dee’s ex-husband. Then she called Tom.

  “Got anything for me from Cochrane yet?”

  “Nice to hear your voice, too,” said Tom. “Got some prints — left and right thumbs, index and middle — but they’re not on record. That penlight print is blurry. Drummond needs clean prints to compare.”

  “Don’t real estate agents have to be printed for security purposes or something?”

  “Not that I know of. Get those prints and we’ll help you nail this guy.”

  “I’ll figure out a way and get back to you.” She’d be taking Neil’s fingerprints post-mortem if she had to speak to him right now. No, she wouldn’t. Asshole or not, dangerous or not, he was innocent until proven guilty. She would have to see him face to face and hope he touched something that would take a print. She opened Dee’s cellphone to get his number, which went to voice mail.

  “Neil, it’s Lacey McCrae. Long time. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Dee’s in hospital. Give me a call for the details.”

  Her phone rang three minutes later. Neil was all charm and apology. He hadn’t realized she was visiting. How badly hurt was Dee? Which hospital? Sure, the nurses would let him in. He was sort of still family. And could he interest Lacey in a spacious condo in Marda Loop? Priced in the low fours, a steal for that part of town. No? Okay, tonight at the hospital, then. Bye.

  Fucking creep. Trying to sell real estate in a crisis.

  Lacey stopped walking. If he was after Dee, he had a half-hour’s head start to the hospital. She had to get there before he talked his way past the nurses.

  RM sheriffs’ cars and Highways Department trucks sat by each end of the bridge, keeping traffic to one lane. She had too long to watch workers take soundings while the muddy brown water swirled past, carrying branches and, occasionally, whole trees. The Fraser River had been the same murky colour on that dank February day, but this one was running twice as fast. Would they close the bridge today? Should she go back to the house for more clothes? No time. A sheriff waved her forward. After the traffic circle, another delay as a crane lowered cement dividers into a ditch to divert runoff that was already pouring down the hillside. Should she send Tom to the hospital? She should have gone up to Highway 1 instead. Or not phoned Neil yet. Stupid. The traffic moved again. Speeding might buy her three minutes, but if a sheriff pulled her over, she’d lose five times that.

  Twenty minutes later, she hurried into the hospital, up the familiar stairs, turned left at the nursing station, and skidded to a halt outside Dee’s observation room. Someone was in there now, wide shoulders bending over the bed. From the back, in the dim lighting, all she could see was pale clothing that might be a nursing uniform. The man straightened as she entered, his linen jacket sliding easily over his six-foot body. His beefy good looks and tousled blond hair were all too familiar. Neil had beaten her to Dee.

  Swallowing her fear and fury, Lacey looked at the bed. Dee seemed just as she had been that morning, head swathed in a white gauze cap, oxygen tube beneath her nose, heart monitor clipped to her finger. The scrapes on her face shone with invisible Band-Aid solution. The monitors all gave their regular, irritating beeps. The IV tube dripped undisturbed. She was okay, or at least as okay as she could be.

  “I thought you weren’t coming until tonight.”

  “I had a cancellation. Poor little Dee. Driving too fast, was she?”

  “The police haven’t talked to you?”

  “No reason why they would, but anyway, we were in Radium for the weekend.”

  Radium was four hours away. He could have come back.

  “We?”

  “My girlfriend, Dani. Her father owns a resort down there. We spend most weekends with him.”

  Dani? The name would fit right in with Camille Hardy’s posse. Maybe she deserved Neil. Now, to get his fingerprints.

  “Tell me about this resort.”

  His enthusiastic description was typical Neil, all about appearances. He’d always had a good line of patter for a guy not quite as deep as a dollar bill. Hopefully he would touch something besides the bed rail. She couldn’t very well walk out with that. “So,” she said when his self-centred babble slowed. “What are you driving these days?”

  “A Hummer. It belongs to Dani’s dad’s company.”

  “Isn’t that hard on gas? Don’t you have a smaller car for getting around town?”

  “I’m making serious deals these days. Can’t drive up to a five-mil Mount Royal property in an old Grand Am.”

  Lacey cranked up her calm friendliness. “Oh, you still have that? Red, wasn’t it?”

  “Sitting in my garage. Well, Dani’s garage. The housekeeper uses it.” He chatted — bragged, really — for a while more, looking harmless and touching nothing. Eventually he said, “So, what happened to Dee? She’s sure sleeping sound.”

  About bloody time he noticed.

  “She was hit by a car. Broken leg, broken ribs, skull fracture. She’s being kept sedated, but they’ll let her wake up gradually.” Nearly too late, she realized that Dee’s waking up, being able to give a statement, could precipitate another attack. “Maybe by the weekend.”

  “Oh.” Neil sat in the only chair, his hands dangling between his knees. “Tough luck. You looking after the dogs?”

  “No. Jake Wyman is.”

  “Oh, sure. Hero Jake. Always riding to the rescue.”

  “He seems nice enough to me.”

  “Yeah, well, he didn’t badmouth you to your boss, did he? Just because I sold his ex-wife a couple of properties to invest part of her settlement. Dee’s managing them for her, but you don’t see him dissing her. Oh no. He’s all over her, inviting her to his
parties, introducing her to everybody. I’d make a fortune with those contacts.”

  What a charmer. It had probably never crossed his mind that Jake would side with anyone else whose sleazy spouse had cheated on them. Was this all that lay behind the bugging — trying to mine her telephone conversations for business leads?

  “Look,” Neil was saying, “Here’s my card. Call me if there’s anything I can do. And I’ll give you my home number.” He whipped out a card and scribbled on the back with one of his fingerprint pens. “Just do me a favour. If Dani answers, say you’re calling about a property. She’s not cool with me seeing my ex.”

  “Even when she’s in a coma?”

  “I doubt she’d believe that.”

  So Dani had his number already. Still, his fingerprints were on the card, and that was what mattered. She accepted it by a corner he hadn’t touched. Paper didn’t always yield the way it should. What else could she get? “Got a spare pen? I could do crossword puzzles while I’m hanging around here.”

  “Good idea.” He put a couple more pens beside it and flashed his charmer smile. “Give one to the doctor for me. See you later, Lacey.”

  See you in handcuffs, asshole.

  She waited until he was in the elevator before she folded a paper towel loosely around the pens and the card. Then she followed him to the lobby, saw the Hummer pass the parking gate, and pulled out her cellphone.

  “Tom? I’ve got Neil’s prints. Can you come by the hospital and pick them up? I can’t leave Dee now that he knows where she is.”

  Tom came after supper, bringing his wife, an ex-Emergency nurse who took in the equipment with a practiced eye. Marie offered to sit with Dee while Tom took Lacey downstairs for a meal. When they were sitting in the cafeteria with Tom’s coffee and Lacey’s soup, he said, “Okay, gimme what you’ve got.” Lacey unfolded the paper towel. “Pens again? I told you that fingerprint isn’t good enough. It’s not going to be clearer on a different pen.”

  “He took these pens out of his pocket and put them on Dee’s bedside table. No gloves. His perfectly fresh finger­prints — the real ones — are on all three pens and the business card.”