Bleeding Darkness

by Brenda Chapman

  She walked partway down the snowy path but people seemed to be avoiding being outdoors. She took the boardwalk around the Delta Hotel toward Ontario Street and looked to her right, seeing the Lone Star Restaurant where she’d had supper with Kala and Gundersund several months before. After they’d finished eating, they’d walked to an art gallery and the owner had invited her back whenever she liked. She thought that she remembered where it was and turned in that direction. Halfway down the block, she reached the entrance and stepped inside. A woman with black dreadlocks and the biggest gold hoop earrings Dawn had ever seen invited her to look around. The next hour was a blur as Dawn studied every painting on the walls of the two rooms. She never wanted to leave.

  “Do you paint?” the woman at the desk asked as Dawn started toward the door.

  “I used to take lessons at a community centre.”

  “We have classes in charcoal and watercolour on Saturday mornings if you’re interested. Here’s a brochure.”

  Dawn took it and looked at the front page. Four hundred dollars for an eight-week course. She couldn’t ask Kala for anything so extravagant. “Thanks,” she said. “I’ll think about it.” She tucked the brochure into her jeans pocket.

  “My name is Simone and I’m here weekdays if your mom has any questions.”

  “I’ll let her know.”

  Dawn left the gallery and pulled out her phone to check the arrival time of the next bus. She wondered if Kala would be back from Montreal yet and not long after she reached the stop, the phone rang and Kala was telling her to take something out of the freezer. That was when she told the fib about seeing her bus coming up the street.

  The snow had started falling while she was inside the art gallery and she was soaked by the time she trudged up the road after the bus dropped her off at the end of Old Front Road. She took Taiku outside after she changed into dry clothes but they didn’t linger. She’d only just put a lasagna into the oven and sat down at the kitchen table to begin her homework when Kala arrived home.

  “That storm is getting bad,” Kala said as she wiped snow from her hair and hung up her parka. “It’s so good to be home.” She kicked off her boots and bent to greet Taiku before joining Dawn in the kitchen. Dawn had a pot of tea steeping on the table with two mugs set out and Kala sat across from her and poured a cup. “You’re wonderful,” she said, taking a sip and leaning back with a sigh. “Good day?”

  “Fine.” Dawn set her pen down. “I saw your note. How was Montreal?”

  “We learned some interesting history about a suspect but when we got back to Kingston found out he’d killed himself and his sister. They were elderly but still, very sad.”

  “That’s why you’re so late.”

  “I had to go to the scene and interview the woman who found them and then we went back to HQ. When I called you, we were debriefing at the Merchant. I hadn’t realized quite how late it was.” Kala took another sip of tea. “Were you with friends after school?”

  “No. I helped Emily with her math in the library and then went for a walk.” Dawn opened her iPad and typed in a search on Google. “I’ve been reading about one of our Yankton ancestors and have a surprise for you.” She turned the screen to show Kala.

  “Goodness.” Kala pulled the screen closer. She was momentarily speechless.

  “I know, right?” said Dawn. “She looks so much like you that I almost fell off my chair when I saw her. She even wears her hair the same as you.”

  Kala read her name aloud. “Kitkla-Sa. She lived from 1876 to 1938.”

  “Her name means Red Bird. She was a writer, musician, and political activist in the U.S. and she’s the spitting image of you.”

  Kala stared at the black-and-white photo and the dreamy, haunted eyes of her ancestor and for the first time felt an overwhelming connection to her past and her Dakota lineage.

  “She’s so beautiful,” said Dawn. “And she was strong and talented, like you.”

  “You humble me. I’d like to know more about her and read some of her writings.”

  “The past is important, Aunt Kala.” Dawn met her eyes. “I was thinking that I’d like to visit my mother.”

  Kala kept her response casual, not wanting Dawn to hear in her voice the surprise and relief that she was feeling. “I should have time to take you now that this case is wrapping up. We’ll have to clear it with the prison authorities but I don’t think there’ll be a problem. Your mother needs to agree as well. May I ask what changed your mind?”

  “I miss her and reading up on our history helped me to put what happened with my mom into perspective.”

  “She’s embarrassed for you to see her in prison. We might need to convince her.”

  “Tell her that I have to see her to get better. She won’t be able to say no.”

  chapter thirty-seven

  The storm raged overnight and by morning freezing rain mixed in with the snow. The windows were coated in ice while snow had drifted against the panes, accumulating in soft drifts on the ledges. The wind rattled the glass and gusts buffeted the house with less strength than a few hours before but it was still enough to make Lauren want to stay snuggled under the blankets for an extra half hour. Evelyn was in bed when Mona, Adam, Tristan, and Lauren gathered around the island in the kitchen to discuss their 9:00 exit strategy.

  “The storm is cutting a swath across the GTA and hit Ottawa and Montreal overnight,” said Adam. Flights are cancelled and not expected to resume until nightfall. “Much as I’d like to get out of here, I think we’ll need to aim for tomorrow.”

  “Your mom has suffered another shock,” said Mona. “We should stay with her today anyway.”

  “I’m not convinced she’s all that broken up,” said Lauren. “Dad was friends with Boris, but Mother appeared to tolerate Antonia, and now that we know she killed Zoe and Vivian, even if she was crazy, Mother’s shallow well of mercy will have pretty much dried up.”

  “Do I detect a note of bitterness?” asked Tristan.

  “Perhaps a titch.” Lauren sent him a sideways smile.

  “Have the police decided Antonia killed Zoe and Vivian?” asked Adam and they all fixed their eyes on him.

  “I told them that Antonia and Boris both said she’d killed them,” said Lauren and then a stab of confusion momentarily stopped her. The entire exchange with the Orlovs had been shrouded in fear and an unreal quality and details were only beginning to come back. Boris had believed Antonia killed both, but hadn’t Antonia said she’d seen Vivian walking far ahead with somebody else? Antonia had only admitted to killing Zoe — or had she?

  Mona said, “It’s turned out as best as we could hope for then. We can go back to our lives without suspicion hanging over any of us.”

  “I wonder if the media will be printing an apology for all the years of hell they put me through,” said Tristan. “At least I won’t have to go through it a second time.”

  Mona put her hand on his back and rubbed in a circular motion. “We knew you’d never hurt Vivian. Now the world knows it, too.”

  Lauren was watching Adam when Mona defended Tristan and the curious expression on his face startled her.

  He knows something, she thought and followed his gaze, which was focused on Mona and Tristan. What is going on in his head?

  Tristan saw Adam staring at him. “What is it?” he asked. “You’re looking at me as if I got away with something.”

  “Nothing like that. It’s just …”

  “What, Adam?” asked Mona, lowering her arm from Tristan’s back.

  Adam raised both hands. “I’m just glad this insanity is over. We can get back to our lives.”

  “I have no life to go back to,” said Tristan. “Not that you’ll lose any sleep over it.”

  “That’s not fair,” said Mona, moving away from Tristan. “We love you, Tristan, and only want what’s best for you. Sometimes going through pain now can prevent worse pain later.”

  “That’s okay, Mona,” said Adam. “A figh
ting Tristan is preferable to the one wallowing in self-pity.”

  “What the hell is wrong with you, Adam?” asked Lauren. “Tristan lost his wife and baby and his girlfriend fourteen years ago to a crazy woman and you act as if he shouldn’t grieve. When did you get so sanctimonious and hard-hearted?”

  “I know he’s lost a lot but that doesn’t give him the right to lash out at his family. I should have known you’d fight his battles for him.”

  “Stop it,” said Mona. “Stop it! All of you! We’ve been under stress for so long. Now is not the time to fall apart.”

  “Mona’s right,” said Adam. “I’m sorry, Tristan.” He moved sideways and put an arm around Mona’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I need to relax.”

  “I hate it when we fight.” She swiped at a tear before it rolled down her cheek. “I just want to get home to Simon and back to how things were.”

  “Yeah,” agreed Tristan but he remained stone-faced, his eyes angry.

  “I feel like we’re stuck in this bloody house. When will the damn storm let up?” asked Lauren, walking over to the counter and staring up at the sky through the window. She said, more quietly, “I need to get out of here.”

  Her phone beeped a message and she pulled it out of her pocket.

  I’m outside. Need to see you.

  A message from the gods. She texted back and rejoined her brothers and Mona. “I’m going for a walk.”

  “Are you crazy?” asked Adam. “It’s a blizzard out there.”

  “I won’t be long. I need some air.”

  She bundled up in her borrowed parka and found Matt waiting for her two houses over. She climbed into his car and he drove to the end of the street where the road curved around the median of conifer trees. He parked but left the engine running. Snow sifted onto the windshield and hail rattled against the roof and windows.

  “The police were by the house and told us that Antonia Orlov killed Zoe. They also believe she killed Vivian. Dad and I are relieved the truth has come out but gobsmacked. Had you any idea?”

  “No. In fact, since I’ve been home, I’d begun to suspect Boris.”

  “The police said that you were in their house before Boris killed her and himself and that they confessed to you.”

  “That’s right.”

  Matt was silent, staring at her as if searching for the truth on her face.

  “What is it?” she asked, uncomfortable under his scrutiny.

  “Dad isn’t buying it and told the police that you’re an unreliable witness since you’d do anything to get Tristan off.”

  “Wow, that came out of nowhere.”

  “He’s pressuring the police to keep the investigation into Zoe’s death open.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “I want you to know that I believe you. Before this gets any uglier.”

  “And why should you believe me?”

  “Because even after all this time, with all that’s gone down in our lives, you’re the same person that I remembered. I want to see more of you.”

  The well of anger and grief threatened to boil over and her eyes filled with tears of rage. “I’m so tired of my family and all this pain.” She thumped against the headrest, staring straight ahead and trying not to cry. “I have no idea why you want to see me again after all this time. I’m not the same girl you knew before Zoe died. Before I moved to Toronto and tried to forget. How could I be?” She turned her head sideways to look at him. “Look at me, Matt. Really look at me. I’m a mess and you can’t even be certain that I’m not lying. God, I could use a cigarette.”

  “I see you, Lauren. I’m going to have Sundays and Mondays off and I can come to you in Toronto. We can take it slow if you’re willing to give me a chance. No long-term promises or regrets if we don’t work out. I’d only have regret if we didn’t try.”

  He looked so earnest that she laughed out loud. “You never could take no for an answer, could you, Delgado?”

  “I’ve waited a long time to see you again.”

  “And got married to help pass the time.”

  “I settled for a while.”

  Lauren could fall back in time when she looked at Matt but that was the path to insanity. She tried not to be seduced by memories. He was still damn attractive with an elusive quality she’d never found in any of the many men she’d been with, but she was scared to start up with him. When he’d dumped her, and with Zoe gone too, she’d been broken. She’d been slowly killing herself in a futile attempt to fill the holes they had left in her heart ever since.

  She took her time answering. “If you have even an iota of feeling left for me, Matt, you’ll stop this game you’re playing and leave me alone because I can’t take anymore. Not from you too.” She opened the car door and stepped outside into the storm without waiting for his response. She ran through the wind and hail to her mother’s front door without once turning around.

  Kala left Dawn and Taiku sleeping and picked up Gundersund on her way to work. His Mustang wouldn’t do well on the unplowed streets, while her truck was reliable no matter the weather. They stopped for coffee and bagel sandwiches near HQ. Most people were staying home and barely anybody was on the roads, making a difficult drive somewhat easier.

  “I’m thinking we’ll be able to call it an early day,” said Gundersund when he left her at her desk to enter Rouleau’s office. “Should be quiet now that we know the identity of Vivian McKenna’s killer except for a press conference at nine at which I’ll be backup singer for Woodhouse and Rouleau.”

  “I’ll update the file. Did you ever receive the report on her from Forensics?”

  “I’ll get Vera to check on it.”

  “Thanks.”

  Kala ate the bagel while she opened emails. Woodhouse and Bennett came into the office at the same time but neither spoke to the other. Bennett detoured for coffee before coming over to say good morning. Woodhouse dropped his jacket on his chair and kept walking toward Gundersund’s office.

  Tanya Morrison stopped by Kala’s desk as she was taking the last bite of sandwich. “Hard to believe the neighbour killed both women. Were you as surprised as I was?”

  “She wasn’t my first choice.”

  “Coffee later?”

  “Sure.”

  Kala pulled her cellphone from her parka, which she’d slung over the back of her chair. She scrolled through the contacts until she came to Rose’s support worker’s number at the Joliette prison. She had to clear Dawn’s visit and needed to go about this carefully. Rose had been adamant that she didn’t want Dawn to see her in Joliette but Kala was prepared to do whatever it took to make the reunion happen. They needed each other.

  She left a message for Linda to call her back while simultaneously clicking on a new email from Julie Gaudette, the cop who’d escorted her around Edmonton. Kala had asked her to follow up on some avenues she’d been pursuing, but that was before the murder cases were solved. She’d been vague with Gaudette about the thinking behind her queries, preferring to wait until all the pieces came together, including a call to Adam’s supervisor. She reminded herself to reply with an update to let Gaudette know to close the file. She clicked on her message.

  I’ve gone through Tristan’s electronic calendar and copied the dates that he was away on tour, cross-checking them against the black dots in Vivian’s Day-Timer. The dots are all on the days he was away and in a couple of cases, she notes a time and location: Murphy’s Pub on 50th Avenue in Leduc. I’ve included the times and dates in the attached file. Good luck with your hunch.

  Kala opened the file and printed a copy out of curiosity more than a need to know now that Vivian’s murder was solved. She skipped over the unopened email from Air Canada but scrolled back to find it and printed that attachment as well. While she waited, she brought up a map of Edmonton and located Murphy’s Pub on the map. Her heartbeat began to quicken. She looked up to find Woodhouse standing next to her desk.

  “What’re you working on?
” he asked.

  “Putting the murder file to bed,” she said, even though she was doing the exact opposite.

  “Gundersund said to tell you that Vivian McKenna’s autopsy report is in the system.”

  “Great. Thanks.”

  He raised his voice. “I’m leaving now for the media briefing and will be back after lunch if anyone’s looking for me.”

  She met Bennett’s eyes smiling at her from across the room and quickly looked away. Woodhouse wanted everyone to know that he was important enough to be included in the briefing. Like a rooster strutting around the henhouse. “Sounds good,” she said, because he seemed to need validation and it didn’t hurt her to give it.

  After he and Gundersund were gone, she spread out the printed attachments and started highlighting dates. The pattern could not be a coincidence. She pondered the significance before opening Vivian’s autopsy. She’d been strangled with her own scarf and died where she was found. Kala knew the forensics team hadn’t been able to confirm where Zoe had died and were being extra careful with Vivian. She thought the location combined with the use of Vivian’s own scarf showed a crime of opportunity. Likely one of passion or anger, which could realistically fit with Antonia Orlov’s state of mind. Vivian had died close to 2:00 p.m. Her unborn baby was also analyzed and found to be male and twenty-three weeks or five and three-quarter months along.

  That can’t be right.

  Kala opened Vivian’s police file and began sifting through the interviews until she reached Tristan’s statement, the one he’d given to her the first time when Vivian was missing but hadn’t yet been found dead. She hadn’t misremembered and realized the lie that Vivian had fed Tristan. Counting back, she must have become pregnant in August, in the summer when they’d been having trouble in their marriage. Tristan had been on a three-week book tour in the southern U.S. through most of August and they’d patched up their marriage in September. Vivian had told him she was pregnant in October.

  Her colleague had said she was having an affair. The neighbour saw a man leaving Vivian in a red negligee early one morning when Tristan was on tour.