Twilight Is Not Good for Maidens

by Lou Allin

  Ashley complied with a shrug, moving her lips silently in mimicry. “Jesus H. You got more mysteries around here. Leave me to think the worst if you want. Sounds like you’re protecting him, though. Are we talking denial? You’re both nervous. I can tell. Psychology was one of my best subjects.”

  Holly and Ann made visceral eye contact, for once in total agreement. It felt good to be on the same side, but they were stuck with this idiot until Chipper returned. Instead of looking forward to coming to work, she’d want to head the other way. “If you came here to do a job you’re paid for, get to it. Our constable’s personal belongings are cleared out. There’s a closet for gear.”

  “You must get lots of sleep around here. Don’t pretend anything much happens in Lalaland. Myself, I’d prefer the big city. I’m a woman of action.” She mimed a sparring bout, ending with an uppercut and a “Pow!”

  The tendons in Ann’s neck tightened as Holly said, “Come into my office, constable, and I’ll give you a brief orientation. We’re not as busy here as in the summer, but we got a sexual assault last week.”

  From a small leather backpack, Ashley pulled a giant-sized energy drink in a neon can and swilled it in seconds. “An assault, eh? That sounds interesting. Maybe things aren’t as dull as I thought.”

  In Holly’s office, Ashley took a chair, pulling the back in front of her and straddling it cowboy style. She cocked one plucked eyebrow. “So what’s the story on the crip out there?” To her credit, she had lowered her voice.

  Holly felt her blood heading for a quick boil. She got up to shut the door, before biting off the words. “Corporal Troy is a hero. She tackled a gunman on a crime spree a few years ago and sustained a serious back injury. She saved a clerk’s life. Instead of taking a disability, she decided to pitch in where she could.”

  “Sure.” Ashley’s bone structure would serve her until seventy, but without a smile, what did it matter? “Tell me another one. She’s too out of shape for anything but answering the phone and filing. Standing in the way of the younger generation, ask me. The force isn’t a nursing home.”

  “Nobody asked you. You have one giant Douglas fir tree on your shoulder or maybe in some darker place. Were you sent here to fill for some kind of punishment? We can ask questions, too, and you might not like to have to answer them.” Confrontation wasn’t Holly’s strong point, but Ashley was asking for it.

  Ashley blew out a breath, taking her time. “I’m waiting for something to come up on the mainland. They’re cool with promoting women faster now, and I’m heading straight for the top. So get to it. Or are we going to stand here all day chatting like second graders?”

  That’s the last time I rise to your bait, Holly thought. She and Ann were going to have to discuss tactics for this live one. “Fine. I assume you’ve had experience with traffic duty. We have a radar gun, and usually spend two hours a day on patrol in one of four hot spots.” The gun was ancient. Was she going to have to apologize for every sub-standard part of the detachment? Fossil Bay was like the Sargasso Sea. Old and used equipment floated in on the tide.

  “Does that junker cruiser even run? Or do the wheels fall off at fifty kph?” Ashley inspected her fire-engine-red fingernails.

  “You’re not getting into high speed chases here. Not unless you want to go home in a body bag. The roads aren’t made for it. They’re narrow and winding. Not to mention wet. Our monsoons are overdue. Tactics trump speed.” She added, “There’s an older Suburban for our work in the bush. We use it more in winter when there’s snow up …”

  “You mean you operate in winter? I figured you closed up and went to Phoenix.”

  Let her spout off for now. It was obviously a defence mechanism. For what, though? Holly spent half an hour explaining the routines and making sure that Ashley knew where all the forms were kept. Then she went to the foyer closet for her coat as Ashley followed, scribbling notes on a pad. “If there’s nothing else, I’m nearly due for patrol. One more thing about our communications. Our radios are better than they used to be, but they’re not totally reliable. In other words, expect to be out of contact from time to time, especially west of here.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” Ashley rolled her eyes, heavy with mascara and perhaps a little too bright. “God, am I thirsty. Road dust.” She opened another can from her duffle and finished half.

  How many of those energy bombs did she inhale every day? Enough to give her a permanent caffeine jag. Now that Holly could focus on Ashley’s face, she noticed an application of foundation on the windburn, and her eyes were enlarged with mascara and eye shadow. An impervious light coral outlined her mouth. Neither Holly nor Ann had the time nor inclination for more than a touch of powder and the odd kiss of lipstick. Holly’s nostrils flared at a musky perfume that might have been deodorant or even a men’s cologne. Heavy scents were becoming an anomaly noticed only in close places like an elevator or small office.

  “Ann can answer your questions. She’ll also show you where the stationery is and set you up with supplies if you need something that’s not on Chipper’s desk,” Holly said.

  “I get you.” Ashley flopped back onto her chair and did an easy twirl. Then she reached into her duffle for a bag of chips.

  “And by the way, this is a public place, and times have changed. Whatever that perfume is, save it for date nights.”

  “Sheesh.” Ashley crunched, her mouth working. “When do you break for lunch?”

  Back in her office, Holly tried to relax by taking a few deep breaths and thinking of the Queen, whose picture in her riding uniform, circa 1960, looked down from the wall. This was going to be brutal if it lasted long. Circles of hell opened before her. That big mouth. One of the most important characteristics of a good officer was tact, especially speaking with the public. This woman had all the sensitivity of a raging bull like the one on the cans. There was no question they needed a third person, but at what price? And what she’d said about Chipper. Was she really a bigot or just careless with her language? Her own Coastal Salish background made her even more sensitive about loaded words.

  With a raised eyebrow, Ann brought Holly the fax that had arrived a few moments before Ashley. The woman was twenty-eight, same as Chipper, same point in her career. She’d been born in Kirkland Lake, a down-and-dead Ontario mining town, and taken a law and security diploma at the local college. Instead of getting a degree, she’d worked for a year in Sudbury as a night guard at Costco, then passed the RCMP exam with high marks, being posted to Moose Jaw. It made sense to leave Ontario, since the OPP ran the show only outside of city police departments and a few remote postings.

  Holly paused and tallied up the evidence. So the girl wasn’t stupid. She read on, interested in how that combative personality had informed her work. After a year outside Regina, she had been moved to Golden, B.C., on the other side of the mountains from Banff. Then, after six months, which struck Holly as odd, she had been sent to the island, filling in for a woman on maternity leave up in Cowichan, where many of Holly’s relatives lived. That post had ten officers.

  Now here she was down on the coast. Four detachments in as many years. Something smelled very bad, and it wasn’t what had rolled in at high tide. Holly consulted her set of provincial maps. Each of the posts had been on the border of a reserve. Curious. If there had been serious trouble, how she had managed to stay in the force? Was someone protecting her?

  So much for Day One. What about the next few weeks? If Holly couldn’t rope her in, she’d face a rebuke about her own leadership role even though it was more than possible that other posts were passing on the problems by transferring Ashley. What might Great Aunt Stella Rice in Cowichan know? The tribal leader had a finger on the community pulse. Holly sat back. For now, she’d let the obnoxious newbie prove herself. Or hang herself. Odds were equal.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Against her better judgement, a few days later Holly sent Ashley on her first assignment, patrol duty east of French Beach, where
speeders loved to flex their muscles. A dense thicket of blackberry bushes and a convenient curve camouflaged the car. Ashley was still laughing about the antique radar gun, brandishing it like an Uzi, yelling, “Chucka chucka chucka” and jumping from the “recoil.”

  Holly frowned at the woman’s Yamaha 125 motorscooter outside. It barely did eighty kph, which made it marginally legal. Going that fast was tantamount to sitting on a skateboard and rolling down the Malahat. It wasn’t inconceivable that a fatal accident would remove her from the roster well before Chipper’s case was resolved.

  “Soon as I save some money, I’m getting me a Virago 250 to run with the big dogs,” Ashley said. As for her residence, she was living in a jacked-up truck camper with tarps parked in a friend’s yard off Anderson Road, where zoning was casual. She had to go inside to a trailer to use the bathroom, and the heating was minimal. Holly gave her points for enduring that discomfort. With some of the highest rents and house prices in the nation, choices for constables, even corporals, were few. She tried to remember the hardships she endured as a rookie on the bottom of the salary grid. A basement apartment with a leaky oil heater in Port McNeil. The flea-ridden back bedroom of an old rooming house in La Pas.

  Ann watched her leave, the door slamming. She put her palms on each side of her head and made the la-la-la sound. “That one makes me feel twenty years older. Why didn’t she stick to video games instead of joining the police? It’s like seeing your delinquent kid rush out and knowing he’s going to be arrested by nightfall and maybe get his girlfriend pregnant in the process.”

  “Maybe two girlfriends. Let’s hope she doesn’t wreck the car, Mom. With the cutbacks, we’ll be on used bicycles.” Holly took a seat in Chipper’s chair and shook her head at the new landfill. A package of Cheetos had spilled, and a pool of milky pink liquid had formed beside a bottle of Lizard Fuel. Perfect for Ms. Forked Tongue. Three Red Bull cans had made it by accident into the wastebasket. A small handheld game Ashley called Patapon was in one corner, and on her coffee break she had been punching its button with maniacal delight. A pack of DuMauriers was open. At the high cost these days, Ashley kept the half-finished butts. Holly put the smokes into a drawer in case anyone came in. She’d told the woman three times to conceal her habit back of the detachment out of sight of kids.

  “It’s more than time to call Chipper, even though I don’t want him to know how worried we are,” Holly said. “What did your contact at West Shore say?” Ann had dated a sergeant a few years ago and still kept in touch. Neither was the marrying kind.

  Ann gave a shrug. “They’re not allowed to give out any information. He says that the all the cards are being kept close to the vest. I’m not surprised. Our buddy’s being railroaded and no mistake. It’s damn insulting that they didn’t let you do the first stage of the investigation. Protocol goes out the window when management pulls the strings.”

  Holly swept her hand in disgust. “Look at this. What a pig. Wish we could move her desk into the lunchroom out of sight.”

  Ann shook her soft brown curls. Her haircuts were getting shorter. “She reminds me of a young guy we had in a single-man detachment forty miles outside Wawa. Unlike the rest of us, he seemed okay with being alone way up in the bush. Then we found out that he had a Facebook page where he was trolling for women, calling himself ‘Hot Cop.’ He was bragging about using the patrol car for his dates. They were driving up from all over the province. Some ladies have a real thing for lawmen.”

  Holly let a slow smile wind over her face. “The back seat, I take it. Manoeuvring around the computer and shotgun would be painful.”

  Ann nodded. “He was turfed. One good reason those single-officer posts are history. Pros and cons to that because now it takes much longer to answer calls in isolated areas. Look at the murder last year on one of the Gulf Islands. It’s lucky that the killer was so obvious.”

  Holly reached for a copy of the Times Colonist on Ann’s desk. “Speaking of our own isolated area, I’ve been afraid to look in the paper.”

  “Front page,” Ann said, the corners of her mouth turning down.

  “UVic Student Claims Sexual Assault” went the story, not the lead but next best. Under eighteen, the girl wasn’t named. Holly turned to the continuation on page three, flapping with a vengeance. With this kind of exposure, Chipper was being condemned before even a perfunctory investigation. How would his parents feel with his name in the paper? Mentions were made of the scandals of the last four years, including an officer’s answering a 911 call about gunshots being fired. He was laughing on the tape. When he arrived at the location, he never entered the house. Inside were victims of gunshot wounds. By the time they were found, one person was dead, the other dying. Worst of all, he had even been promoted.

  “Bastards,” Holly said. “What the hell’s wrong with the screening process, letting these guys through?” Complaints about women seemed to be rare, but maybe it was a question of numbers. In the RCMP, B.C. led the nation with only 21.4 percent women. For the rest of the country, it was 18 percent. Parity would be out of reach for decades.

  Holly hit the bathroom to freshen up as Ann’s phone rang. When she returned, Ann motioned her over. “Interesting news about Reid.” She punched speakerphone.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  With all the recent chaos, the name didn’t register and Holly gave Ann a questioning look. “You’re too young to be losing your memory.”

  “Right. Paul Reid.” Holly tapped her forehead. “French Beach.”

  Reg’s gravelly voice could grate hard cheese. Even under the new paint, the wall still held traces of the noxious Cuban cigar he had been puffing when he took his final leave of his Fort Zinderneuf. “Everything ship shape down there in my old stomping grounds?” he asked. For the first few months, he’d dropped in on a regular basis. His new apartment was a couple of hours away, so his excuse that he had friends in the neighbourhood seemed like a stretch.

  “The building is still standing, both vehicles are rolling, and we’re all on the right side of the grass,” Holly said. “What’s the story on Paul?”

  “I ran into him every now and then when I cruised the park around four each day in the summer to show the colours. When they got rid of the full-time ranger in a cost-cutting move, his presence was welcomed.”

  In turning over the post to Holly, Reg had been friendly and helpful, but the fact that he had remained a corporal after thirty years on the force spoke volumes. Had he tried for the sergeant’s exam and failed? Or did he prefer his comfortable sinecure? Ann had implied that he had been on the easygoing side and never missed a half-hour afternoon nap. But with nothing more to deal with than speeders or the occasional and unsolvable minor theft in park lots, he knew he had it good.

  “Ann said that you had some information on his background. I guess she told you about our assault at French. Paul seemed on the nervous side.” Shy and reclusive could mean suspicious. Had she misjudged the man?

  Reg cleared his throat. “I’m not saying anything that’s a secret. Paul went through AA about five years ago. He was a real hell raiser before that. Had him in more than once for fighting with his wife. They had a little hobby farm in Shirley. Couple of acres and a few alpacas. It had belonged to his father. Gone back to grass by the seventies. I guess the wife wasn’t real keen on living so far from town, and the old tumbledown house didn’t please her. She liked to get into the sauce, too. Double trouble.”

  Ann gave a slight cough, and Holly said, “I see.”

  “Paul got the worst of it sometimes. They traded restraining orders.”

  Women could be guilty of spousal abuse, too, though it was a rare man who wouldn’t hit back. “I didn’t see or smell any alcohol at his place.” Hadn’t he rescued Maddie? Or had he gotten more than he bargained for in an attack and then turned around the situation to play hero? Stranger things had happened. How many times had a murderer called 911, confident that in reporting a body, he would avoid suspicion? “How did
he end up out on Seaside?”

  “They didn’t seem to need an excuse to go at each other like a couple of starving Rottweilers. He purely went off women after that. They got divorced and sold the acreage. He bought that little cabin. She went back to the mainland. No kids, and he got the dog.”

  “Boy, has he changed. Seems like a pussycat to me. What’s his means of support? He doesn’t get anything from the park authority.”

  “Small navy pension. He doesn’t need much.”

  “Do you think there’s any chance that he could have attacked the girl?” He’d seemed so harmless, and here was this aggressive background filling in the blanks. She almost mentioned the Bible verses, but that seemed to say more about her than him.

  Reg paused for a moment. “For his own good, he tends to stay away from women. Being a hermit suits him. Drives around and makes sure the paths are clear after storms. He’s alerted us about small boats in trouble in the bay. Go ask the park authority if you want.”

  “What about when Ann caught him urinating in public?”

  She drew back from the guffaw over the speaker.

  “Hell, I told her to forget it. If he wanted to go expose himself, there’d be places he could get more bang for the buck, if you get my meaning. Ann was a little too eager as a rookie. One of these days, I’ll tell you about her first week on the job.”

  Ann gave the speakerphone a dirty look and spoke up loudly. “I’ll remember that, Reg, next time you want a favour.”

  Holly gave the evening a fast re-roll. Other than being eccentric … “He was very kind and considerate of the girl.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to say. I don’t peg him for this. I’m assuming you made the rounds for witnesses.”

  “Hardly anyone was there. I’ve cleared the two parties camping nearby and a car that was seen the night before. Paul is the only witness. Everything happened in total darkness. How the guy got away without bumping into something or falling into a fire pit baffles me. It’s like he vanished into thin air.”