“The probability is high that she will regain consciousness. The damage to her brain was minimal. But I have to caution you that there is always a risk that she might not.”
“Do you think she will have any long-term effects?”
“Until she fully wakes up, it is hard to say. The human brain is a finely tuned instrument. Some patients fully recover after more severe damage than your daughter’s, while others with less damage have long-term effects.”
“Teht’aa gonna be okay,” Uncle Joe declared. “She Tlicho. I smudge for the Creator. He make sure she wake up.” Trembling fingers struggled to extract a small leather pouch from his jacket pocket.
“Sorry, sir,” the nurse interjected. “I’ve already told you that you can’t burn anything in here.”
“Yah, yah, I know.” He waved his hand again in dismissal, but the jut of his jaw told me that he was going to ignore her.
“Uncle Joe, with all the oxygen tanks in this room, lighting a match could make us go up in flames. You can hold the ceremony outside and capture the smudge in a bag and cleanse Teht’aa with it.”
“Sorry, not allowed,” the nurse persisted. “The smoke will bother the other patients. You can hold your smudging ceremony in the healing room and keep the smudge within its walls.”
Though he merely grunted, I could tell that he had decided to accept the rules.
“What about Teht’aa’s other injuries?” I asked Dr. Chan.
“You should speak to Dr. Finkelstein about those. Dr. Yausie and I only operated on the cranial injury.”
He must’ve seen the look of exasperation on my face, for he continued, “Reading her chart, I would say that the only injury that could have a long-term effect is the compound fracture in her arm. I see Dr. Finkelstein put a metal plate on the ulna. But I suggest you talk directly with him. He can give you a better prognosis.”
“Thanks, I will. Do you have any idea what caused these injuries?”
“I understand she was beaten.”
“But with what? Surely a fist couldn’t have done such damage.”
“Sorry, I can’t help you. I haven’t watched enough CSI.” He grinned but stopped when he noticed neither Uncle Joe nor I was smiling. “I suggest you talk to the RCMP.”
“Do you know who’s looking after her case?”
He shook his head. “Wilma should be able to help you.” He nodded in the direction of the nurse behind the counter. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have another patient to attend to.”
“I have a name here. Sergeant Ryan.” Wilma held up a business card. “We’re to call her when Teht’aa wakes up.” She wrote down the information and passed it over. Noticing the phone in my hand, she continued, “You can’t use your phone in here.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.”
Uncle Joe was breathing heavily beside me. I didn’t think he was up to doing the smudge but felt I should ask. Once again we were hit with the rules. I was beginning to think regulations were all this hospital cared about.
“You have to follow the schedule posted outside the healing room,” the nurse said. “Besides, there isn’t enough time. Visiting hours end in ten minutes.”
I glanced at my watch. “Wow, almost eight o’clock, later than I thought. No wonder I’m so hungry. It’s well past dinner time for me. But first I have to find a hotel room. Maybe you could recommend one?”
“You stay at Teht’aa’s,” Uncle Joe said.
“I don’t know where it is. Do you?”
“I take you.”
“What about a key?”
He opened his palm to reveal a silver ring crammed with assorted keys and a BMW key fob.
“Does that belong to Teht’aa’s car?”
The old man’s dark-brown eyes twinkled. “Nice, very nice.”
Great. Exactly what I needed, some wheels. “I suggest we spend the remaining time with Teht’aa and then call a cab.”
“No, I drive. BMW is in parking lot. It fun to drive.” A huge grin with more gaps than teeth spread across his furrowed face.
EIGHT
If I questioned Uncle Joe’s ability to get us to Teht’aa’s apartment intact, I was answered by the ease with which he manoeuvred the metallic blue M3 out of the hospital parking lot. He might be a tottery old man on foot, but behind the wheel he was a confident young one with a penchant for speed. A couple of times I squeezed my eyes shut, gripped the dash, and waited for the jolt of the bump that never came when he swerved around a corner a little too sharply.
While he drove, I called the lawyer my sister recommended and the policeman in charge of Teht’aa’s case. Since it was well past business hours, neither answered. But within seconds of leaving a message for Sally McLeod, she was returning my call. Within another second I was hiring her as Eric’s defence attorney and promising to transfer ten thousand dollars to her office bank account. Not having anywhere close to that amount in my account, I made a mental note to call my broker to redeem one of the bonds I’d inherited from Aunt Aggie. I also agreed to meet Sally at the airport coming off the first flight tomorrow morning from Edmonton, where she’d just finished a trial with a not-guilty verdict, she added.
If I didn’t hear from Sergeant Ryan tonight, I wouldn’t wait for her call in the morning. Instead, I would be at the detachment at 6:30 a.m., the time her voice greeting said she’d be in the office. In addition to an update on Teht’aa’s case, I was hoping she would provide information on Eric’s case.
With little traffic on the main road, we sped through the downtown core of Yellowknife, past the two or three blocks of drab government buildings varying from a few stories to about ten. The sidewalks were mostly empty but for a clutch of people milling about in front of the post office and across the street at an A&W. We came to a screeching halt in front of a sign proclaiming we’d arrived at the Vietnamese Noodle House.
Uncle Joe smacked his lips and declared that whenever he was in town he treated himself to a Vietnamese meal.
He patted his stomach and grinned. “Good for waistline.”
As if he had to worry. His bony hands suggested he didn’t have an ounce of fat to spare. But if he was on the thin side, it wasn’t related to his food intake. He gorged as much as I did on the shrimp rolls, chicken satay, vermicelli soup, and other tasty Vietnamese dishes all ordered by him, except for the chicken satay. I had a hankering for the peanut sauce of satay and persuaded him to order it. I could see he had set dishes he always ordered and didn’t like to stray from these. But he tucked into the satay as heartily as I did, so perhaps he would add it to his list.
We continued along the main road, down a long decline lined with gaily painted clapboard houses and a motel or two crammed into the few building spots the rocky terrain would allow. To the right I could see the blue expanse of Great Slave Lake, dotted with the odd island and what looked to be a straggle of houseboats. At the bottom of the hill, where the road flattened, we passed several gift shops, one sporting a sign that read “Ragged Ass Lane,” which had me wondering about the northern tale behind its naming. Though the buildings declared that civilization had taken over this shore of the lake, the ever-present mounds of impenetrable Precambrian granite reminded me that the vast, empty wilderness was only a few blocks away.
We came to a halt beside a pale-blue three-storey building clinging to the side of a rocky outcrop with a steep wooden staircase zigzagging up the side.
“Here the key,” Uncle Joe said. “Teht’aa live on top floor.”
“No elevator?” I asked, angling my head back to see the narrow landing at the top of the stairs. “Aren’t you staying here too?”
“My old legs don’t do stairs. I stay with my son in N’dilo.”
“Where’s that?”
“Island at the end of this road. N’dilo is Yellowknives, like we’re Tlicho or Dogrib people.”
“But you’re all part of the Dene, right?”
“Yup, guess Eric learned you a thing or two.”
“Is it far? Because I am hoping to be at the police station by six thirty tomorrow morning.”
“No problem. I get up with sun. I go fishing with my grandson. I bring you some. Plenty whitefish in the lake.”
“Sounds good as long as you aren’t late. Do you have a phone number I can reach you at?”
He rhymed off his cell number. I was finding this old guy more amazing with every minute. No lying back and waiting to die for him. He was going to enjoy life to the fullest until his time came. No wonder he meant so much to Eric.
He left me in a squeal of dust and gravel with my bulging suitcase planted beside the bottom stair. Another glance up the three flights to Teht’aa’s landing had me wondering whether I was up to the challenge. But I made it with only a modest amount of puffing along with strategic stops at each landing to admire the view. And what a view it was overlooking the deep blue of what I took to be an arm of Great Slave Lake extending toward the haze of the distant horizon. A canoe was setting out from a dock for one of the houseboats hugging the rock islands. Beyond, I could make out the spiralling cloud of smoke from the forest fire we’d flown over.
At a shade past nine thirty, I was surprised by the amount of daylight until I remembered that in this part of the world it was the time of year for endless days, when the sun only briefly dipped beneath the horizon.
I inserted the key into the lock of the landing’s sole door. It sprang open before I had a chance to turn the key.
Did Teht’aa have a roommate?
“Hi, anyone there?”
I pushed the metal door farther open and called out again. Silence was the only answer, apart from a motorcycle whining full throttle along the road below me. Maybe in the Great White North people didn’t lock their doors.
I hesitated. Every jangling nerve in my body was telling me to call the police. But I was afraid of making myself look a fool. A wimpy southerner who couldn’t handle the North’s idiosyncrasies.
“I’m coming in,” I shouted and gingerly stepped into a small vestibule and waited until I was convinced I was alone. I kept my cell in my hand, ready to dial 911, which I later discovered would have been futile because Yellowknife hadn’t yet implemented the service.
I picked my way through the boots and running shoes scattered over the tile floor and entered a large living area with two picture windows focused on the lake view. Eric’s daughter wasn’t known for her tidiness. Magazines and books were strewn over the glass coffee table beside a mug half-filled with old coffee.
I smiled at the sight of the dark-green soapstone carving of a polar bear rising on its hind legs from its place on the table. I’d bought it during my trip to the Arctic and had given it to Teht’aa when we finally decided we actually liked each other.
Several articles of clothing, including the jacket of the blue suede suit she’d bought in Ottawa, were scattered over the sofa. It seemed like yesterday that she was bragging about the purchase of this chocolate-brown leather chesterfield with matching armchair. She’d bought it at the Edmonton Mall at the kind of discount price one couldn’t turn down and had borrowed a friend’s truck and trailer to transport it the thousand or more kilometres to Yellowknife.
The kitchen was the usual mess I had come to expect from Eric’s daughter, who only believed in washing dishes when she ran out of clean ones. Mind you, until Eric moved in, I had been no different. In addition to the stacked dirty dishes, she hadn’t bothered to close several drawers or pick up the items that had tumbled onto the floor.
Though I hated cleaning as much as she did, my threshold for dirt was lower. If I was going to stay here for any length of time, I would have to clean it up, but I’d worry about that tomorrow. Right now, all I wanted to do was sleep. By Quebec time it was well past my bedtime. I headed down the hall.
I peeked into the bedroom on the non-view side of the apartment and saw a single bed with an IKEA desk and set of drawers. It was too neat to be Teht’aa’s bedroom. The room across the hall was more in keeping with her style. The duvet on the queen bed was half on, half off, with pillows bunched on the broadloom. Most of the dresser drawers were open, with clothes spilling out. One drawer lay upside down on the floor. But I was too exhausted to do anything about it. After ensuring the front door was securely locked, I crawled into her bed.
Only as my eyes were drifting shut did I wonder if her apartment wasn’t too untidy. My thoughts wandered back to the partially opened front door. But I was asleep before I could connect the dots.
NINE
One second I was deep asleep, and the next I was on high alert. A sudden bang had invaded my dream, forcing me to claw my way to the surface. I strained my ears to hear more than the looming silence. A truck rumbled on the street below. Of course, a backfire. I allowed myself to relax until I caught the sound of footsteps in the apartment.
Not again! Panic consumed me. I flung the covers over my head and tried to pretend I was elsewhere. I stopped breathing and listened to the footfalls echoing down the hall toward me. The person hummed as they drew closer. Please, God, transport me somewhere else.
“Hey, Tee, whatcha doin’?” shrieked a female voice. “I gotta bottle of Johnny. Let’s party.”
Not a man. Thank God.
I poked my head above the covers.
“You sure ain’t Tee. Who the fuck are you?”
The woman was leaning against the door jamb, or should I say clinging, since she seemed to be having difficulty staying upright.
“I’m Teht’aa’s father’s wife. Who the fuck are you?” I might as well throw it back at her. I felt the fear slowly draining away.
In the twilight of dawn, I could only see a mass of black hair and the outline of a slim, almost elfin figure with a large bag slung over her shoulder and the shadow of a bottle hanging from her hand.
“Ya don’t say. I heard about you. Where the hell ya come from?”
“I arrived from Ottawa this afternoon.”
“Where’s Tee?”
“She’s in the hospital.”
“Fuck, I forgot. That motherfucker of a boyfriend beat her up. She gonna be okay?”
“I hope so. So who are you? I didn’t know Teht’aa had a roommate.”
“Not ’xactly a roommate. She lets me sleep here when things ain’t goin’ too good. I’m Gloria.” She lifted the bottle up and drained a hefty amount. “Want some?”
“No,” I shot back to drown out the yes.
“Sorry I woke ya up. Guess I’d better get to bed.” She turned a little unsteadily and headed across the hall to the other room.
I lay back and tried to sleep before my bladder convinced me it was full. On my way to the washroom, I noticed Gloria’s door was open. I poked my head in and asked, “You didn’t happen to leave the front door unlocked last time you were here?”
The glow of a cigarette marked where she lay in the bed. “Not me. I ain’t been here in a while. Look, don’t tell Tee you seen me smoking, eh? She hates the smell.”
“Keep the door closed and open your window.” I wasn’t fussy about the smell either. “When were you last here?”
“About a week ago. I was visiting my kid. Why you ask?”
“The door was open when I arrived tonight, but I expect Teht’aa doesn’t lock it.”
“No way. She’s real careful. Always locks it up tighter than a virgin’s cunt. Whoops, sorry. Better talk like a lady, eh?” She broke into a raucous laugh that turned into a fit of coughing. When she finally stopped, she asked, “How long she gonna be in the hospital?”
“Too soon to tell. We don’t even know if she’s going to wake up from the coma.”
“Fuck. I didn’t know she was that bad.”
“You said her boyfriend beat her up.”
“Yah, that’s what I heard.”
“What’s his name?”
“Frank. I could never figure out why such a nice lady like Tee would go out with such a jerk.” She lifted the bottle to her mouth and took another long draught. “Sure ya don’t want any?”
I shook my head. “I met a man today who insisted he was her boyfriend. Hans Walther was his name.”
“He did?” Her cigarette glowed. “Where d’ya see him?”
“At the hospital.”
“What was he doing there? He hurt or something?”
“He wanted to see Teht’aa.”
Another glow of her cigarette. “Nah, he’s not her boyfriend. Frank was.”
“Why did he insist that he was?”
“He’s got the hots for her. But she don’t like him.”
“Do you know about the murder at Digadeh?”
“Yah, I heard. That’s where I’m from. Tee too. And Frank.”
“I thought she came from a town called Wolf River.”
“We call it Digadeh now.… it’s Tlicho. Means the same thing …” Her voice petered out into a whisper followed shortly by soft snoring.
I retrieved the burning cigarette before it set us both on fire, ignored the uncapped bottle on the night table, opened the window to let the smoke escape, and shut the door behind her.
Though the amount of daylight made it seem like six in the morning, my watch said it was only a few minutes past three. Not sure I could go back to sleep, I was tempted to join Uncle Joe on his fishing expedition, but couldn’t muster up the energy, so I returned to bed.
The loud drumming of the phone woke me up. It was Uncle Joe saying he didn’t mind waiting, but the cop might be gone by the time I got to the station. It was shortly after seven thirty. I threw on clothes, grabbed my purse, and down the stairs I fled.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, buckling up the seatbelt. “Have you really been waiting for an hour? You should’ve called earlier.”
Purple Palette for Murder Page 4