by Gail Bowen
“So it’s a three-cushion shot,” Warren said. “The Donnellys put an end to speculation that someone from their camp killed Lee’s birds; they throw suspicion on my son; and they lift a middle finger to me.”
“Slater Doyle’s heading up their campaign against the new bylaws,” I said. “This attack on Simon has Slater’s fingerprints all over it.”
“I’ll call Mansell and pressure him to get Doyle fired,” Warren said.
“At the moment, Zack’s on the phone with Mansell attempting to do that very thing,” I said. “But from what he said at the wedding, I think Mansell’s policy on Slater Doyle is ‘hands off.’ ”
“A policy guaranteed to please his wife.” Warren’s voice dripped with disgust. “Quinn’s the one with the balls in that family,” he said. “I apologize, Joanne. There’s no need for me to be crude, but Graham Meighen taught Quinn everything she knows, and she learned her lessons well. She runs Lancaster the way he did: she never forgets a perceived betrayal, and she’s vindictive. And of course, there’s bad blood between her and Lee Crawford.”
Remembering the relish with which Quinn tore apart Lee’s reputation in the video of Lancaster’s anniversary party, I felt a chill. “Warren, where did you hear about the hostility between Quinn and Lee?”
“From Quinn herself. When she heard that I’d donated to Citizens for Planned Growth, she called to ream me out. She started saying ugly things about Lee. I told her to stop and when she didn’t, I hung up. She hasn’t spoken to me since.”
“So you think yellowcanoeman is payback.”
“I know it is.”
“I’ll have Zack call you. Warren, where’s Simon now?”
“He’s staying in the flat over the boathouse. We’ve used it for guests when the house was full. It’s comfortable. Simon will have his privacy, and Annie and I will be able to keep close tabs on him.” Warren paused. “Joanne, I lost Simon’s mother. I’m not going to lose our son.”
When he was angry, Zack never raised his voice; he lowered it. He was still on the phone when I came back to our bedroom, and his voice was barely audible. Clearly, he was furious.
“Just to make certain I have this straight, Mansell: you’re offering to publicly denounce the yellowcanoeman operation if I get Lee Crawford to take down the video of the dead birds. That’s not acceptable. Nothing links Simon Weber to the slaughter of Lee’s birds.” Zack cast a glance at me and shrugged. We both knew the note left for Lee could incriminate Simon, but Zack soldiered on. “The yellowcanoeman campaign is vicious, baseless innuendo and it’s libellous. Slater Doyle may have been disbarred, but he must still have a vague recollection of the fact that libel is actionable.
“Lee Crawford posted a video of something that actually happened. She raised heritage birds and someone slaughtered them. Lee has every right to leave that video up. Now here’s a piece of friendly advice, Mansell. Rein in your wife, and suggest that she lock Slater Doyle up somewhere and throw away the key. You and Quinn have plans for this city. They’re not my plans; they’re not the current city council’s plans; but we all know that gutter politics comes at a price. You and I can debate the bylaws rationally and nobody else will get hurt.”
When Zack’s call was over, I went to him and rubbed his shoulders. “There’s smoke coming out of your ears,” I said. “I take it that did not go well.”
“Nope. Mansell’s decided to flex his muscles. His parting words were curious. He said that if we don’t get Lee to take down the video, someone else will.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” I said.
Zack transferred his body from his chair to the bed. “Neither do I,” he said. “Neither do I.”
CHAPTER
5
When we talked the next morning, Angus sounded more in control. The RCMP had given permission to remove the birds’ bodies, and Lee had stood dry-eyed and alone in a field of wildflowers as Bobby and Angus buried them. As soon as she came back to the house, Lee began drawing up lists of what she needed to restart her heritage bird breeding program.
Her fortitude impressed Angus. “Lee is really something else, Mum.”
“I agree,” I said. “Are you staying at the farm for the day?”
“Bobby will be here all morning. He has a late-afternoon meeting in Saskatoon so I’m going in to work, but I’m cutting out early to come back here to make supper.”
“I’m really glad you’re pitching in.”
“It’s no big deal. Bobby and Lee are good people, and they’re jumping right back into the fray. Lee’s having an emergency CPG meeting here this morning to strategize about how to respond to what happened to the birds.”
“She’ll have to tread lightly,” I said. “There’s a lot of anger out there. The slaughter of those birds was an atrocity, but no one should respond in kind. Retaliation will just up the ante.”
“That’s what Lee feels too,” Angus said. “Mum, could you possibly stop by the farm? Bobby will be here, but Lee could use more support.”
“She’s got it,” I said. “What time is the meeting?”
“Ten this morning, and bring a lawn chair.”
When the groups that came together to form Citizens for Planned Growth met for the first time, they made one key decision. Since CPG was an ad hoc coalition formed for the purpose of making certain the Yes side won the referendum, the individual member groups would retain their autonomy. Each group would decide the time and place of its meetings, maintain social media contacts with current members, and seek out new members from its natural constituency. Realizing that matters such as advertising and public statements for CPG had to be unified, each group would designate a liaison for more formal meetings of the larger coalition to reach decisions.
My guess was that many of the twenty or so people sitting on lawn chairs in a ragged circle in front of the Brokenshire house were activists who had been allies in earlier political battles. As soon as she spotted me, Lee and her bouviers came over. After I’d fussed over the dogs, Lee held out her hand to show me her engagement ring. It was delicate and lovely: two identical diamonds in a simple silver setting. “It belonged to Bobby’s maternal grandmother,” Lee said. “She told Bobby’s grandfather she wanted a ring that showed their marriage would be the union of two equal partners.”
“A woman ahead of her time,” I said.
Lee laughed. “Bobby said she was a lot like me. And her initials were the same as mine, LKC.”
“Sometimes all the pieces just slide into the place where they belong,” I said.
“It feels that way, doesn’t it?” Lee’s eyes, so like her sister’s, met mine. “This will be a good marriage. Bobby deserves the best.” She took my arm and we joined the others. “Joanne’s going to sit in for a while at our meeting,” she said. “Jo, I think you know everybody.”
I looked around. Bobby was there, flanked by Bette and Piper Edwards. Apparently, ring or no ring, Piper wasn’t giving up. Somehow I wasn’t surprised.
A smart, savvy petite redhead with a snub nose, a small but determined mouth, and big brown eyes, Piper had just turned thirty when the Writ was dropped, but she already owned Wascana Realty, a company that had mushroomed during our city’s housing boom and continued to flourish.
That morning when I extended my hand to her, I anticipated that Piper would welcome me as a sister progressive. However, her handshake was perfunctory, and after a desultory exchange about the weather, she strolled away.
Bemused, I greeted Bette and Bobby, and then I picked up my lawn chair and joined Elder Ernest Beauvais and my old friend Peggy Kreviazuk. Peggy had tinted her dandelion-fluff hair a pale mauve for Peter and Maisie’s wedding, and her complexion glowed with the tan of a passionate gardener. She was wearing a T-shirt with the message TOGETHER WE ARE BETTER. “Great shirt,” I said. “Can we buy those by the gross?”
Peggy smiled. “I’ll look into it. Lee has asked Ernest to say a prayer before the meeting,” she said.
“T
hat’s a wise beginning,” I said.
Since Zack and I had committed ourselves to bringing the Racette-Hunter Centre into being, Ernest Beauvais had been a part of our lives. The opposition to building a community centre in our city’s poorest neighbourhood had been fierce, but those who believed that Racette-Hunter could be the lifeline to our marginalized citizens were determined. Ernest was part of the R-H working team, and later when Zack ran for mayor, Ernest put in long hours organizing voters in North Central. Those were tumultuous times, but Ernest always offered a still point in the storm.
He was a retired ironworker, the grandson of one of the Mohawks from Kahnawake who helped frame New York City’s skyscrapers and bridges. His grandfather had married a Cree woman, and Ernest, like his own father, had married a Cree. Although, as Ernest said, his own children were more Cree than Mohawk, all six of them, including the women, were ironworkers who took pride in “walking iron.” A big man in every way, Ernest always created an atmosphere of shared strength and hope when he began our meetings with a prayer, first in Cree and then in English.
That morning when Ernest stood, we all followed suit. His prayer was heartfelt.
Nohtawenan saweyiminan oma Ka Kesikak
Our father, bless us this day
Ayis Kiyehewini pimatisiwin
For your breath is life
Sayweyiminan mena ota mamawai Kayayahk
and Bless us here together
Meyinan, muskawisewin mena ayinesewin
Give us – strength and wisdom
Ta natohtamahk menata nahehtamahk
To listen and to hear
Namoya ayiwakeyimowin ta pimitsahamahk
Not to follow enviousness
Meyinan asumena ta wapahatamahk
Give us again to see
Sakastewini mena ka nanskomitinan
Sunrise and sunset
Hiy hiy ki anaskomitinan
Thank you, we are all most thankful
Pitane ekosi teyihki
Hoping that will happen
It was customary to spend a few moments reflecting on an elder’s prayer, but Piper Edwards was clearly not in a contemplative mood. Ernest had barely finished when she stepped forward. Piper was known for her eye-catching clothing choices. That day she wore a very short grey cotton shift with a split neckline, diamond-patterned tights in black and grey, and pink suede ankle boots with four-inch heels.
As her eyes swept the circle, they were hard with anger. “It’s all well and good to ask for blessings and sunsets,” she said. “But let’s face facts. We’re all sorry about Lee Crawford’s birds, but whoever killed them did us a favour. For weeks, Lancaster has been blanketing the media with ads. We don’t have the funds to match that kind of blitz, but thanks to the bird slaughter, social media can’t get enough of Lee Crawford. Keeping her and the tragic loss of her heritage birds front and centre is top priority.”
Piper was a skilled public speaker, and I watched with interest as she turned slowly so she could make eye contact with people in the circle as she spoke.
“Very smooth,” I whispered to Peggy.
“Very,” Peggy said. “Did you notice that Piper didn’t look at Lee?”
“I did, and I know why,” I said. “Piper and Bobby Stevens have been seeing each other on and off for a while. As my grandmother would say, Piper ‘set her cap’ for Bobby, but Bobby has always loved Lee. After the ceremony on Saturday, he proposed to Lee and she accepted. Lee showed me her engagement ring when I arrived.”
“So Piper is wounded,” Peggy said. “I understand, but we can’t afford to be divided.” She touched the motto on her shirt. “The only way we’ll win the referendum is through solidarity.”
“Agreed,” I said. But as soon as Lee Crawford spoke, it was clear that this group was going to need more than T-shirts to remain united.
After she’d thanked Ernest Beauvais, Lee turned to the others. “Elder Beauvais prayed for the right things. We all need the strength and the wisdom to listen and to hear. Yesterday when I posted the video of my birds on YouTube, I made it harder for all of us to do just that. This issue has already caused too much anger. I don’t want to fan the flames. I’m taking my video down.”
Piper stood so abruptly she knocked her chair over. A young man wearing a U OF R Cougars sweatshirt righted the chair, but she ignored him. Piper’s hands were balled into fists and her face was a thundercloud. “Lee, you can’t do that. For once in your life, you have to think about somebody other than yourself.”
When Lee rose again to speak, she was pale. Bobby moved to stand behind her. “I am thinking of someone other than myself, Piper,” Lee said softly. “I’m putting CPG first. We’re a collective, a group of people with a shared belief. Our strength is in each other. People have come to see me as CPG’S leader, but that changes what we are, and it makes us vulnerable.”
Piper’s voice was cool. “You owe the people here today an explanation, Lee. Tell us why you being the leader would make CPG vulnerable. Your public image is that of a person of honour who fights for what she believes in. How can that image make CPG vulnerable?”
“Because I’m not an image. I’m a person, and I’ve made my share of mistakes. I don’t want to give our opponents a chance to shift the focus from the issues about development to my feet of clay.”
Lee’s tone had been conciliatory, but her words ignited Piper. Her gaze moved furiously around the circle. “A collective uses the strength of each member,” she said. “I support Citizens for Planned Growth because I’m the councillor for Ward 4 and the majority of my constituents believe that our city’s future development should be rooted in thoughtful planning and respect for our environment. My strength comes from the people who live and vote in Ward 4.
“Lee Crawford’s strength as a member of this collective derives solely from the fact that she is a media magnet. No one has ever voted for her. She went on NationTV. She made herself a public personality online. Now it’s time for her to get past her ego and push forward our agenda.”
There was no mistaking the rancour in Piper’s voice. Peggy nudged me. “We have a problem,” she said.
“I’d heard Piper could be mean,” I said.
When George Sawchuk pushed himself out of his lawn chair, I relaxed. George and his father, Kostya, had been heroes of mine for years. One of the first farmers to recognize the dangers of pesticides and go organic, Kostya Sawchuk had fought the multinationals to keep them from spraying their crops because the spray drifts. Time and time again, he took the multinationals to court. No matter how many times the multinationals’ teams of high-priced lawyers beat him, Kostya kept the faith. When he died, George picked up the torch and carried on.
George bore a striking resemblance to his late father. Compact and powerfully built, both men were sharp-featured with wavy iron-grey hair, high foreheads, and deeply set blue eyes. The resemblance was not simply physical. Like Kostya, George believed that some day, somehow, human beings would get it right, and as he began to speak I knew that, once again, he would appeal to our best selves.
“I’m not a religious man,” he said, “but my father was. Every night after supper, he’d read the Bible to us. There are some great stories in there, and there’s some solid advice. Over the years, I’ve been a part of many groups devoted to important causes who let pride or pigheadedness tear them apart.” He gestured towards me. “Joanne here calls it ‘the granolier than thou syndrome.’ Anyway, whatever you call it, the loser is always the cause the group believes in. There’s a passage from Isaiah that we need to remember today. ‘Come now and let us reason together.’ ”
A scruffy young man with a ponytail and attitude had been standing throughout the meeting. He took a few steps towards George. “You’re out of touch, buddy,” he said. “We’re not living in Bible times any more. This is the twenty-first century and it’s all about social media. Your generation fucked up everything. Why don’t you sit back down and let my generation clean up the mess you lef
t us.”
George stood his ground. “It’s clear we have differences about how to proceed,” he said mildly. “Fine. That means it’s time to talk. We have a goal. On June 17, we’re going to win the referendum. We can’t allow anything to get in our way. As soon as we publicly acknowledge one person as leader, we expose that person to brutal scrutiny by our opponents. We all have feet of clay. Through no fault of her own, Lee has achieved a certain notoriety. The reason why she doesn’t welcome that notoriety is her business. As our friend and our colleague, she has the right to take down the video.”
Beside me, Peggy breathed, “Amen.”
Her body taut with rage, Piper took to her feet again, but Bette Stevens intervened. She touched Piper’s arm. “Time for us all to take a deep breath,” she said. Bette cast a piercing look back at Lee and then led Piper from the circle, the younger woman following wordlessly.
“Bette’s right,” Lee said. “Let’s take a break. There are glasses on the kitchen table and lemonade in the fridge. My one and only bathroom is on the second floor. Please make yourselves at home.”
I went to Lee. “Zack and I have a busy afternoon scheduled, and there’s something I should take care of before then. If you need me, I’ll stay …”
Lee shook her head. “I’ll be all right, but let me walk with you. I need to get away for a minute.”
“Do you think cooler heads will prevail?” I said.
“I don’t know,” Lee said. “At the moment, I’m just clinging to the last line of Ernest’s prayer.”
“ ‘Hoping that will happen’?” I said.
“Yes,” she said. “I really do hope Piper and I will be able to work together.” Her smile was rueful. “Is that too much to ask?”