by J. S. Marlo
An officer had already taken her statement, still Liliane couldn’t bring herself to leave the scene. The people she worked with were vanishing at an alarming rate, some more permanently than others. Once again, her thoughts traveled to Ethan and the boys camping somewhere, unaware their world was shattered forever.
The invisible cloud weighing her down grew darker by the minute. She needed to call Damien, but she didn’t feel like talking, so she texted him.
More problems: Sophie RS is dead and Jasmin TO quit. Amanda is new TO.
Problems might not have been the right word to describe the situation, but at the moment she lacked a better one. The vacancy of Sophie’s position was easy to solve—Liliane would promote the best revising agent to the position of revision supervisor—but her death harder to explain. She couldn’t wrap her mind around the possibility Sophie committed suicide.
Another police cruiser weaved through the emergency vehicles and parked between the firetruck and the coroner’s van. Jasper exited then paused without closing his door. Dark sunglasses concealed his eyes, but from the movement of his head, he appeared to scan the surroundings. As he looked in her direction, he stilled. She could feel his heated gaze settling on her. In his place, she wouldn’t be impressed to see one of her suspects had stumbled on a second body. Regardless of that suspect’s guilt or innocence, two dead in two days defied the odds.
Her iPhone rang. She glanced at the number then silenced the chime. Talking to Damien could and would wait. Right now, she needed a hug, not an interrogation.
From the corner of her eye, she caught Jasper’s approach.
He sat beside her on the higher step. “Officer Austin read me your statement over the phone. How are you?”
Of all the things he could have asked her, he chose the one that burst the dam. Tears she didn’t try to hide flowed down her cheeks. “I feel like an angel of death.”
With his thigh pressed against her knee, he placed a comforting hand on her forearm. “For an angel, of any kind, you’re endowed with a better sense of smell than our cadaver sniffing dog.”
Not amused, she growled at him. “That was not funny.”
He smiled, a kindhearted smile that slowed her leaky tear ducts. “Whatever you think you did, or didn’t do, or could have done, or should or shouldn’t have done, this was not your fault, Liliane.”
A silent sigh expanded her chest. “Why would she kill herself? I saw her earlier this morning, Jasper, very much alive.”
Sophie had been on a mission to find the compromising picture, not kill herself.
“Guilt? Shame?” The detective squeezed her arm. “Maybe she feared we would unearth some evidence suggesting inappropriate behavior.”
As she read between the lines, she searched his face. His mask of professional detachment cloaked his expression but not the intonation in his voice.
“You found the compromising photo?” It was the only explanation that made sense, the only one that could have driven Sophie to commit such a desperate act. “Where was it?”
He stared at her with undisguised interest. “On Thomas’ personal phone. I was on my way to talk to her when I received the emergency call. How did you know about the photo?”
“I caught her searching for it in Thomas’ office before the cleaning crew arrived this morning. Truth be told, I’m surprised Thomas kept it on his phone. I didn’t think he’d risk his wife or daughter-in-law seeing it.” The dead man’s bizarre behavior never ceased to stun her. “Jasper, is there a chance you could...not mention that photo to Ethan? Sophie might not have been the perfect wife, but deep down, she loved her husband and her boys. They don’t need any more pain.”
“If the photo turns out to be irrelevant to the investigation, I’ll do my best to keep it under wraps.” He punctuated his promise with a gentle pat before removing his hand. “Why don’t you go paint for a few hours? It will help clear your head.”
Beautiful flowerbeds framed the cobbled path between the asphalt driveway and the porch. Liliane loved the pocket of bright orange and deep purple pansies growing closest to her. It would make a lovely painting. As much as she loved his suggestion, she couldn’t afford the indulgence.
Maybe tonight. Once she closed the office, she might escape to her studio instead of going home alone. “I have to get back to work, call Damien back, and reorganize the revision room hierarchy.”
“I may not agree, but I understand.” The detective stood at the same time she did. “I stopped by your office to talk to Jasmin, but your receptionist told me she didn’t show up today. You wouldn’t happen to know her address or where her yoga studio is located, would you?”
“Her studio was in her home, but she skipped town last night with all her belongings.” The timing of his request didn’t sound like a coincidence, not when she didn’t believe in coincidence of that magnitude. “You know why she disappeared in a hurry, don’t you?”
“No, but I have an idea.” The hope he would share that idea with her died when he pulled out his phone. “What’s her address, Liliane?”
Chapter Eleven
~There’s something wrong with your character if opportunity controls your loyalty.~
When Liliane entered the election office, the lobby was deserted. “Anyone here?”
Hurried steps resonated from the corridor, culminating with Gloria’s arrival.
“You’re back. How was lunch?” The receptionist returned behind her desk, looking oblivious to the latest development. “Mr. Greg dropped by with an envelope for you. Something about endorsement papers? He’s such a nice man. If only they could all be like him. Anyway, I placed it on your desk.” With twinkling in her eyes and a sweep of her hand, she ushered Liliane toward her office. “It sounded urgent. You should go look at it now.”
Until Jasper informed Sophie’s immediate family, it didn’t feel right to share the news of her death, so Liliane kept silent. “Thank you.”
She ventured into the corridor, but didn’t branch into The Catacombs. Instead, she entered the revision center. While no one manned Sophie’s desk, two revising agents worked at their stations. Liliane recognized both of them.
“Colleen? May I see you in my office, please?” Before the revising agent asked her why, Liliane turned on her heels and marched away.
No footsteps thumped on the ceramic floor behind her. When she reached The Catacombs and looked over her shoulder, Liliane was pleased to see Colleen had silently followed her.
She peeked inside Nathalie’s office. Seated at her desk, the technology officer frowned at her computer screen.
“Stupid machine.” With her glasses perched on the tip of nose, her friend lifted her head in Liliane’s direction. “Can you believe the system is down and no one at Headquarters is available to reset it? They have one election in progress. Not four hundred. One. And they can’t keep up.”
“Yeah, I can believe it.” After this week, not much would ever surprise her. “Could you spare a moment? I need you in my office.”
“Sure.” The wheels of her chair screeched when Nathalie rolled away from her desk. “But it may not stop me from throwing that piece of junk out the window.”
Even if her friend could throw the heavy computer above her head, it wouldn’t fit through the window frame. The machine was safe from its operator’s wrath.
Liliane invited both women to step inside her office. Of her own initiative, Nathalie closed the door, then leaned against it, her arms crossed over her chest.
“Have a seat, Colleen.” Liliane indicated a chair before sitting on the corner of her desk, near an envelope labeled Endorsement Papers. “How would you like to become acting revision supervisor?”
Eyes wide open, the woman plucked into the chair. “What? Why?”
“Sophie is incapacitated at the moment. Would you take over until her return?” The lie burned Liliane’s tongue, but the truth would scald deeper.
From the corner of her eye, Liliane caught Nathalie’s reaction.
Her friend raised a brow but remained silent. Once Sophie’s death became public, Liliane would either offer the permanent position to Colleen, or find someone else if she declined.
Her hands clasped together over her lap, Colleen eyed her with a mixture of awe and disbelief. “I’m...I’m flattered. I would love the job, and I sure could use the higher pay, but I’m not sure I’m qualified.”
The woman might not possess the full qualifications, but she displayed good judgment when she sought help with the villages along Snake River. In Liliane’s book, that counted for something.
An honest assessment of her own abilities was another quality Liliane admired. “If you weren’t good, I wouldn’t offer you the job, Colleen. Nathalie and I will be your mentors. If you’re not sure of something, don’t guess. Bad guesses are a pain to fix. Just come see one of us, we’ll help you. Right, Nathalie?”
Her friend advanced toward the filling cabinet from where Colleen could see her without twisting her neck. “Right. Lily and I know everything about revision. And what we don’t know, we invent. Just kidding.”
“Well...” The revising agent glanced back and forth between Nathalie and her. “The instruction manual for the position is in Sophie’s desk. First drawer on her left. She often consults it. If I have your permission to read it, and if you don’t mind me bugging you with questions, I would be happy to fill Sophie’s shoes until she returns.”
“Sounds good. Starting today and until further notice, write down revision supervisor on your timesheet.” Liliane gestured toward the technology officer. “Nathalie will adjust your authorization level to supervisor.”
Nathalie opened the door. “I’ll be with you in a moment, Colleen. In the meantime, you can sit in Sophie’s chair and start reading the handbook.”
The new supervisor sprang to her feet as if the last ten minutes had shaved a decade off her life. Her enthusiasm delighted Liliane.
After she closed the door, Nathalie resumed her pose against it. “What are you not telling me about Sophie?”
The two of them made a pact. For better or for worse, they swam through this mess together.
Liliane picked up Greg’s letter and thumped her opposite hand with it, the rhythm matching the beating of her heart. “You can’t tell anyone yet, but Sophie is dead.”
Nathalie’s jaw dropped as an eerie silence fell over her office. The devastation on her face spoke volumes.
“It’s a long story and I would rather not discuss it here. Want to meet after work tonight?” Spending time with Nathalie often ended up as beneficial as painting alone in her studio. “Or at the gym tomorrow morning?”
Her friend bobbed her head up and down. “I have a bucket of chocolate ice cream in the freezer. We can eat it together tonight. If anyone asks, I know nothing. I guess I should go set Colleen up.”
Ignorance was bliss.
“Before you go, can I pick your brain?” Liliane sought the assistance of someone working in a bank, but she drew a blank at who she could trust in the industry. “I need someone to tell me if a check is a forgery. Do you know anyone we could trust?”
“Susan could probably tell you.” Her friend withdrew her election phone from her pocket. “Want me to call her? She’ll be discreet.”
She’d forgotten that Nathalie’s daughter worked as a mortgage specialist at the credit union. “Yes, please.”
To give her friend a semblance of privacy, Liliane pulled the check from the envelope to examine it.
Nathalie hung up. “Her next client isn’t due to arrive for another twenty minutes. She’s waiting for you, so shoo.”
As she rushed to the credit union, Liliane promised herself that she would phone Damien upon her return.
~ * ~
Though the disappearance of Jasmin Couture strengthened Jasper’s suspicion she was indeed the yoga guru behind Thomas’ naked picture, her role in his death remained to be determined. An APB for her arrest had been issued across Manitoba and its two neighboring provinces, Ontario and Saskatchewan.
The neighbor who spotted the moving van couldn’t recall the name of the company, so Jasper assigned the task of identifying who emptied the house to a rookie officer by the name of Gambone. Through his open door at the station, Jasper could see the female officer browsing through her computer while talking on the phone.
Jasper had visited Jasmin’s house, but since the landlord had already cleaned the place, he didn’t uncover anything.
The crime scene unit processed the garage of his second victim Sophie Mink, but he hadn’t received their preliminary report yet. While the picture on Thomas’ phone gave Sophie a motive to kill him and then kill herself, the timing confounded Jasper. According to Liliane, the latest victim sneaked into Thomas’ election office to search for that photo, except she had no way of knowing the phone had been found and the technician had retrieved it from the deleted folder.
In his mind, it didn’t add up that she committed suicide before someone confronted her with the evidence. Jasper understood desperation, but she shouldn’t have become desperate until the proof of her betrayal surfaced.
What am I going to tell her husband? Ethan and the kids were camping somewhere in the forest. Jasper had enlisted the help of the wildlife officers to locate them, but their search hadn’t yielded any results yet.
An email from the lab appeared on the screen of his phone.
The unidentified partial on Thomas Finch’s personal phone is not a match to Sophie Mink’s prints.
The result didn’t enlighten Jasper one way or another. Another inconsistent detail—the bed on which she lay in the yellow negligee—gnawed at his guts. While the negligee she wore appeared identical to the one from under the bed in the motel room, the sheets looked different.
He called the motel and waited to be transferred to the owner.
“Yvan speaking.” The owner’s accent sounded more pronounced over the phone than in person.
“It’s Detective Jasper. I have a quick question for you.” As his son Dillon would vouch for, small talk had never been his forte. “Do you use the same sheets in all your rooms?”
“Huh...” An awkward pause filled the line. “Yes, but we wash them after each new guest.”
Silent laughter tickled Jasper’s throat. He never meant to insinuate the sheets were reused between clients, but it appeared the meaning of his question got lost in the translation. “Sorry, I wasn’t implying you don’t wash the sheets. I just want to verify if you have any white sheets or pillowcases with lace or fancy designs around the edges.”
In the compromising picture, Sophie lounged on white sheets and pillowcases embroidered with threads of the same color, the pattern only visible in the close-up.
“Oh...no...no lace.” Understanding seemed to dawn on Chartrand. “I only buy plain cotton white sheets. That way no one can complain about itchy sheets or pillows.”
Jasper appreciated business owners who cared about customers’ satisfaction. “That’s useful to know. Thank you.”
As he pondered the discrepancy, his phone rang. The name on the screen galvanized him. She wouldn’t have called him unless she unearthed something of value.
Hoping he would need one, he picked up a pen. “Tori, what do you have for me?”
“Hello, Jasper. Hello, Tori. How are you? I’m fine. Thank you. And you?” Her friendly banter dissipated some of the tension tightening his body. “Someone needs to teach you good manners, you know.”
His mother had tried, but failed. “In my next life. So? What’s up?”
“I fingerprinted your latest victim, Sophie Mink, and ran a tox screen.” A beep resounded in the background. “It showed the presence of two different sedatives, one of them only available by prescription. The amount in her system was sufficient to knock down a horse for hours. She would have passed out within minutes of ingesting the cocktail. It’s worth noting I didn’t find any puncture marks anywhere on her body or any wounds, offensive or defensive.”
&nb
sp; Tori’s job consisted of presenting him with the facts, not drawing conclusions, but he could read between the lines. These few minutes didn’t give Sophie much time to kill herself. “If someone slipped the sedatives in her drink, could she have tasted it?”
“In plain water, probably. In a sugary drink, probably not.” Someone called her name. “I need to go, Jasper. I’ll send you my preliminary report shortly.”
“Sounds good, but could you text me the names of the two sedatives now, please?”
~ * ~
After a long conversation with Damien, Liliane hung up.
He promised to board the first available flight as soon as his divorce lawyer dismissed him. What he aimed to accomplish by rushing back when she’d already briefed him on Sophie’s death puzzled Liliane, but she knew better than trying to dissuade him. The man could be more tenacious than a dog chasing a cooked slice of bacon. She preferred to save her energy for the one battle she intended to win.
The candidate’s nomination papers contained the private phone number she needed. Using her iPhone, she dialed it. She heard a click after the first ring.
“Stuart Reiter speaking.” His unmistakable nasal voice grated on her nerves.
“Hi, Stuart. This is Liliane Irwin, finance officer at the election office. I’m calling on behalf of the returning officer.” The answers she sought were buried inside the thick skull of the insufferable manager. If she had to perform a craniotomy to peek inside, she would. “The postal code on the nomination papers is illegible. I need you to come in to my office to correct it.”
“I’m a busy man, Ms. Irwin.” His aggravation rang through loud and clear. “Can I give it to you over the phone?”
In spite of her irritation, she forced herself to remain calm and professional. “Unfortunately, you cannot. No one in my office is allowed to make any changes, as small as they might be, to the nomination papers. I need you to come now, rewrite the postal code, and initial it. I’ll see you in ten minutes.”