by Gail Bowen
Taylor’s expression was tender. “I remember. You were always there.”
“I still am,” I said.
“I know,” Taylor said. “And that means a lot, but I’m not lost, Jo. I’ve found a place where I’m very happy.” Taylor’s smile was poignantly self-mocking. “It seems I belonged with the ladies all along.”
“With women or just with Vale?” I said.
“I don’t know,” Taylor said. “Neither does she. This relationship is a first for both of us, and we’re just at the beginning. Bringing two lives together in the right way will be a lot of work.”
“You have all the time in the world,” I said, “and if you and Vale are meant to be together, it will be worth the effort.”
“We think that too,” Taylor said. “And look, there’s Lizzie just waiting to be found.”
* * *
—
A journalist friend once told me that if you ask the right question, everybody has a story they want to tell. With Lizzie the right question was simple. “What happened the night Gabe Vickers died?”
On the drive back from the mall, Taylor sat in the back seat with her. It was a good decision. Lizzie was nervous about telling her story, and Taylor was able to convince her that if she shared her concerns with us, we could deal with them.
Lizzie’s requests were easily met. She wanted to talk in a place where she felt comfortable, so we met at Vale’s condo. She was adamant about wanting Vale and Zack there, and equally adamant about not wanting Debbie present. Taylor texted Vale and she said she’d wait for us at the main entrance to the production studios. It was all very low-key. Vale made us herbal tea while we waited at the condo for Zack to arrive, and we began as soon as he joined us.
He asked Lizzie if he could make a video of the interview on his phone and send it to Inspector Haczkewicz. He explained that getting Debbie involved immediately would let her know that we were all on the same side and that talking to us would give Lizzie a chance to get used to the questions Debbie would later ask.
Lizzie agreed, and so we began. Zack was skilled at questioning witnesses, and his voice was deep and encouraging as he led Lizzie through her story.
She was fuzzy on questions of time and on the exact wording of the conversations she overheard, but Lizzie’s story had the ring of truth, and I could tell by looking at Zack, Taylor, and Vale that, like me, they believed what Lizzie was saying.
From the outset, it was clear that Lizzie’s actions that night were rooted in her gratitude to Vale for caring about her. When Vale asked her to leave the sound stage with her, Lizzie was proud that Vale had chosen her to be the person to take care of her. Lizzie hadn’t been hurt or angry when Vale bristled at her hovering and suggested she get herself something to eat and go into the other room to watch television. She understood how much people need to be alone sometimes.
Lizzie had heard Gabe come into the condo, and believing that Vale might need her, she had opened the bedroom door a little so she could be there if Vale called. Lizzie said she’d always hated it when her mother and her mother’s boyfriend began yelling because things got broken and people hurt and the police would come and make everything worse. When Gabe and Vale raised their voices at each other, she felt sick to her stomach, so she hid in the bedroom’s walk-in closet.
After Gabe left, Lizzie opened the closet door a crack, but she stayed inside. When Vale called her name, Lizzie didn’t answer. She still felt scared, and when she heard Vale crying in bed, she curled up on the closet floor and covered herself in one of Vale’s robes and fell asleep. She didn’t know what time it was when she woke up. Vale was sleeping, and everything was very quiet, and Lizzie wanted to be somewhere far away where nobody was crying or angry.
She crept out of the closet, picked up her phone and the keycard Vale had given her, and tried to leave. She got into the elevator and swiped the keycard, but when the elevator doors opened, she wasn’t in the lobby. She was in a penthouse and she knew right away that something had happened. The lights were still on, and the room was very cold. Lamps and chairs had been knocked over and there was broken glass on the floor. Then she noticed the doors to the balcony were open and she went to shut them.
That’s when she saw Gabe. She called to him, but he didn’t answer. It was freezing and he wasn’t wearing a coat. She thought he would die if he didn’t come inside, so she stepped out onto the balcony and called his name again, very loudly. When he still didn’t answer, Lizzie thought he must have passed out. He was leaning over the railing of the balcony with his head down, as if he was throwing up. It seemed like most of his body was over the railing. She thought the best way to get him down would be to pull him by the legs. She tried, but he didn’t budge, so she pulled harder. The floor of the balcony was icy. Lizzie lost her balance, slipped, and fell into Gabe. Then he tipped over, and all of a sudden, he was gone. She looked down. The security lights were bright, and she could see him on the sidewalk beside the building.
She knew she should get help, but she didn’t want to get in trouble and so didn’t call 911. Instead, she got into the elevator, and this time made sure she pressed the button marked L for lobby. There was nobody in the lobby, so she ran outside to see how badly hurt Gabe was. She knelt beside him and called his name, but no matter how many times she called his name, he didn’t answer. That’s when she knew he must have died. Her story finished, Lizzie leaned towards Zack. “Is that enough?”
Zack smiled and took her hands in his. “Yes,” he said. “That’s enough, at least for now. Lizzie, after Inspector Haczkewicz sees the video we just made she’ll want to talk to you again.”
“Right now?”
“No, later, but I’ll talk to her first.”
“Am I in trouble?”
“No, I think Debbie and I will be able to work this out.”
“And nothing’s going to happen to Vale?”
“No, Vale will be fine. Lizzie, I wonder if you and Taylor could go to the bedroom for a minute and let me talk to Joanne and Vale.”
Vale had clearly been shaken by Lizzie’s account, but she was composed. “Zack, how can you possibly work this out?”
“I can’t do it alone, but I think we have logic and science on our side. As far as I can tell, three separate factors contributed to Gabe Vickers’s death. After he and Nick Kovacs fought, Gabe was badly hurt, but Nick was also badly hurt. If Gabe had gone to Emergency the way Nick did, the medical people would have given him the treatment he needed. I’m guessing Gabe didn’t go that route, because he knew that as soon as he walked into a hospital, he’d be confronted by questions he didn’t want to answer.
“We’re already aware of the fact that Gabe used prescription drugs and alcohol to deal with the pain from his injuries, and that given the lethal mix of drugs and booze sluicing through his veins, the medical examiner was amazed that Gabe made it to the balcony at all. There was vomit on the ground in the area near where he landed, so Lizzie’s guess that Gabe had leaned over to throw up and passed out was right.
“The third factor is that he went over the balcony railing and plunged head first onto a concrete walk from a considerable height.”
“And he went over the railing because Lizzie slipped and fell against him,” Vale said, and the fear in her voice was palpable. “Zack, the only reason she was in this building tonight was to care for me. Do you believe that what happened was an accident?”
Zack’s voice was steely. “Yes, that’s what I believe, because that’s what Lizzie says happened. And the truth is that if she had never set foot in the penthouse, the outcome would have been the same. Gabe Vickers would have died of exposure.
“Coroners have a phrase they use on death certificates to describe the cause of a death like Gabe Vickers’s. They call it ‘death by misadventure,’ which is primarily due to an accident caused by a dangerous risk taken voluntarily. Knowing the risk, Gabe Vickers voluntarily attacked Chloe Kovacs. Knowing the risk, Gabe Vickers chose to self-medica
te rather than seek professional help when he was injured after his fight with Chloe’s father. Knowing the risk, he chose to go to the balcony for a cigarette. What happened next was an accident that occurred because of a series of dangerous risks that Gabe Vickers undertook voluntarily. A textbook case of death by misadventure.”
Vale leaned forward and put her head in her hands. For close to a minute, she stayed that way, absolutely still. Finally, she straightened. “It’s almost over,” she said. She turned to Zack and then to me. “You’ve both been so steadfast through all this. I don’t know how to thank you.”
Zack smiled. “Hey, no need for thanks,” he said. “It’s all in the family.”
CHAPTER
17
Having Gabe Vickers’s death declared “a death by misadventure” involved a meeting with Linda Fritz, Zack’s favourite Crown prosecutor. Linda was smart and sensible and when she and Zack met for lunch, she was quick to agree that, given the evidence, death by misadventure was a sensible conclusion. Zack spent the rest of their lunch trying to convince Linda to join him on the dark side and become a trial lawyer at Falconer Shreve. I was keeping my fingers crossed. I liked Linda, and Zack’s determination to add her to the firm’s trial law division was proof that he was serious about cutting back on his hours.
The news that Gabe’s death would not be the subject of a lengthy and publicity-generating trial lifted a burden from Ainsley Blair’s shoulders. There would be whispers about the underbelly of Gabe’s life, but by the time The Happiest Girl hit theatres, the rumours would be forgotten. As the new head of Living Skies, Ainsley was busy arranging financing and sending out feelers about casting and film crew positions for Flying Blue Horses. She was doing that, in addition to putting in twelve-hour days directing the movie. I recognized the signs. There were times when the only antidote to guilt and pain was exhaustion, and Ainsley was running on empty.
Roy was clearly concerned about his longtime collaborator and friend. He spent most if not all of his free time by her side, and his relationship with Brock suffered. In the immediate aftermath of Gabe’s death, Roy had been dismissive of its effect upon him. Although he claimed that he was not “diminished” by Gabe’s death, as a man whose nerves were perilously close to the surface, Roy was haunted by his memories of the horror surrounding Gabe’s final hours. He had forgiven me for my fumbled caution about how he spoke about Gabe, and we continued to work together on ideas for the series, but the gusto he had brought to the project was gone.
Nick Kovacs was recovering well from the physical injuries he’d suffered during his fight with Gabe, but he blamed himself for Gabe’s death. No matter how often Zack or Henry Chan took him through the sequence of events that led to Gabe’s fall from the balcony, Nick was convinced that if he had “handled the situation better,” Gabe would still be alive.
When Zack finally laid it down for Nick, I was in the next room, but I had heard his words. “So let’s run through this again,” he said. “Instead of going to the penthouse, you stay in your garage pounding the shit out of your punching bag. Not much changes for you. When you wake up the next morning, you’re probably a little stiff from all that punching, but you’re still sick with rage at what happened to Chloe. Gabe, on the other hand, wakes up feeling like a million dollars because he’s free to walk out of the condo, lure the next innocent child he finds down an alley, and make her watch as he jerks off and blows his wad all over her young body. Nick, next time you start beating yourself up, think of that child.”
When Nick and Chloe came out to stay with us at the lake for a few days between Christmas and New Year’s, Nick’s cast was off his arm and he seemed at peace.
Zephyr, on the other hand, remained Zephyr. Plans for the day set aside to celebrate the renaming of the Saskatchewan Film Production Studios were in full swing, and Zephyr was in her glory. We learned from Debbie that on the day of Gabe’s death, the police had interviewed Shawn O’Day. On the snowy morning that Chloe erupted, O’Day had been at the film studios as an emissary for Zephyr—a role that forced Gabe to extend a cordial welcome to him. Shawn admitted to making the phone call to Nick Kovacs that was the impetus to the tragedy. O’Day told the police that his intent was simply to get the powerful producer with deviant sexual interests off the streets with minimal publicity.
After she confessed what had happened in the minutes leading up to Gabe’s death, Lizzie had frightened us all by disappearing for close to a week. When the police found her, we learned she had joined a large evangelical church on the outskirts of the city, and she’d been born again. She told Vale, “My church will take anyone and everyone and they wash us all clean. I feel clean, and they’ve found me a place to live. Right now, I’m working in their cafeteria, but they’re going to get me on a life-affirming path. I’m filled with joy. Praise Jesus.” Indeed.
Vale checked out the mega-church. The principal tenet of its theology appeared to be that God rewards those who believe by showering them with riches, but the church itself was legitimate. Lizzie was safe and happy on her life-affirming path, and all of us who had grown to care for her were grateful.
* * *
—
The shooting schedule of a movie takes precedence over everything else, so because we wanted Rosamond and Vale to be part of our Christmas, we made our plans accordingly.
The cast and crew of The Happiest Girl had been working punishing hours, five days a week for eight weeks. Christmas Eve fell on a Sunday, what would ordinarily be a day off. Since Christmas was Monday, the cast and crew worked Christmas Eve day from seven in the morning until two in the afternoon and were free until the morning of Wednesday, December 27, at seven. It was a work schedule worthy of Scrooge before his epiphany, but no one complained.
Our family has always been traditional about Christmas. We opened one present Christmas Eve, and shook out stockings and opened the rest of the gifts on Christmas morning. Christmas Eve dinner had always been roast beef and Yorkshire pudding with Zack’s partners and their families, but this year there were changes. Noah Wainberg and his daughter, Isobel, and his grandson, Jacob, were spending Christmas in Vancouver, and Gracie Falconer and Rose Lavalee, the woman who had raised Gracie, were joining them.
Rosamond Burke was also a Christmas traditionalist, but her traditions were definitely Dickensian. As soon as she signed the contract to play the grandmother in The Happiest Girl, Rosamond had her assistant search out the best venue in Regina to host a dinner on Christmas Eve. Our family always attended the 5:30 children’s service at St. Paul’s on the twenty-fourth, and Rosamond was Church of England, so the cathedral was fine with her. After church, Rosamond, Vale, and our family, except for Peter, Maisie, and the twins, who were busy establishing their own traditions at the farm, gathered together at the Scarth Club, an old and handsome establishment that knew how to do Christmas well: holly, ivy, a fat goose, plum pudding, and after dinner a group of carolers.
Vale stayed with us overnight, so when Zack, Taylor, and I made our Christmas morning rounds to see what Santa left the grandkids, Vale was with us. Being with young children on Christmas morning and tromping through the snow on a Saskatchewan farm to feed animals were new experiences for her, and she drank them in. After dinner at our house, all the family, including the twins, gathered in front of the tree and, at Rosamond’s request, we read out loud Dickens’s A Christmas Carol.
Rosamond began, and from the moment she read the opening lines of stave 1—“Marley was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that”—she had her audience in the palm of her hand. The book Rosamond brought to read from was an old one—large, bound in maroon leather, and heavy—and we passed it around with care and reverence.
As Rosamond described the visitation of Marley’s ghost in her powerful, melodious voice, Charlie and Colin were mesmerized. They drifted off as their father read about how the Ghost of Christmas Past transported Scrooge through time to see his own miserable Christmas as a child. The twins c
ontinued to doze through staves 3 and 4, but they awoke with a start as Zack boomed out Scrooge’s joy at discovering the meaning of Christmas in stave 5. As he read how it was always said of Scrooge “that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that truly be said of us, and all of us!” Charlie and Colin looked at their grandfather with new eyes. This was the man who ate their mushy broccoli with gusto. We lived in a world of wonders.
* * *
—
Our family had decided to limit gift-giving that Christmas and donate what we would have spent on each other to April’s Place. The grandkids received gifts and the rest of us exchanged stocking stuffers.
There were, of course, gifts for Rosamond and Vale. During her time on set, Taylor had been sketching portraits of the cast and crew. She was working in conte, a kind of pastel/crayon hybrid that combined the softness of pastels with the vibrancy of crayons. Ultimately, there would be contes of each person who contributed to the making of The Happiest Girl. But Taylor had completed two pieces as surprises for Vale and Rosamond. Each captured the two actors during a pivotal moment for her character. Vale’s was of Ursula picking snowberries on the tundra with her grandmother. Rosamond’s was of the grandmother and Ursula just before the grandmother’s final transformation from human life to something beyond human understanding. Predictably, both Rosamond and Vale were thrilled.
My gift to Vale, a boldly illustrated version of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, proved to be an unexpected hit. The book featured hundreds of collages by Andrea D’Aquino that fascinated Vale. After everyone left, Vale took me aside and pointed to some of the images that she found most arresting. “Look how D’Aquino tears up pieces of discarded paper and reconfigures them to produce these amazing effects,” she said. “Her art is a perfect representation of the text.”