Purple Palette for Murder

by R. J. Harlick

  “Yup, nine of them. It was one of the largest murder investigations in RCMP history. A mine employee was later convicted. When the mine finally closed, it left over two hundred million tonnes of arsenic buried underground, enough to kill everyone on Earth several times over. After nearly twenty years of mostly talk, the government has yet to come up with a solution for dealing with it. In the meantime, we Yellowknifers have to trust that none of it is leeching into Back Bay and ultimately our drinking water. Gold mining is dirty business.”

  “Is that you, Gus?” The sergeant’s blonde head appeared around the door. “I hope you brought your kit. Looks like we have a b and e here.”

  “Left it in the truck.” The black crown and yellow band of his police cap was the last I saw of him as he tripped down the stairs.

  She turned to me. “Mrs. Odjik, you can come in now. Don’t touch anything. I want you to tell me if it looks any different from what you saw last night.”

  “What about Gloria? Did you arrest her?”

  “She isn’t here.”

  “Amazing. Given the condition she was in early this morning, I didn’t think she would surface until midafternoon.”

  I followed the police officer into the cluttered living room.

  “Is this how you found it?” she asked.

  “Yeah. I guess it wasn’t like this when you were here.”

  “Nope. Since you’ve been in the apartment, we need to get a set of your fingerprints.”

  Gus tramped into the room carrying a black suitcase-like container. “I’ll do it on the kitchen counter.”

  Within minutes he had captured all ten fingers and two thumbs on an electronic fingerprint machine, along with my photo, and had sent them off into the big black cloud without setting off alarm bells.

  While Gus snapped photos of the living room, the sergeant led me into Teht’aa’s bedroom. I felt somewhat embarrassed at the sight of my unmade bed, particularly when I noticed that Gloria had made hers before leaving. I wondered if her cop antenna had warned her about their pending arrival.

  “Do you think it was the man who assaulted Teht’aa?” I asked.

  “Too early to tell. I don’t suppose you can tell us if anything was taken.”

  “Sorry, this is the first time I’ve been in the apartment.”

  “Look around anyway. No matter where we live, we all have personal items that move around with us. See if you can tell if any of Teht’aa’s are missing.”

  I chuckled at the photo of her father and me lying face up on her dresser. We were standing on a sandy shore, looking drenched beside an overturned canoe. It was taken during a canoe trip that was more memorable for what I found than for the whitewater paddling.

  I was about to reach for Teht’aa’s jewellery box lying on the floor when Ryan brushed me aside. “Don’t touch anything.” She lifted up the delicate birch bark box with an intricate floral design made from dyed porcupine quills. It had been a gift from an elder on the Migiskan Reserve as a thank you for the time Teht’aa had spent driving the woman to and from Ottawa for doctors’ appointments.

  The policewoman opened up the box. It was filled with jewellery.

  “Can you tell if anything is missing?” she asked.

  “I’m afraid I’m not very familiar with her jewellery, but since I see a couple of pairs of gold earrings, including a pair with diamonds and a gold bracelet, I’d say it’s likely nothing was taken.”

  Her flat-screen TV, Blu-ray player, and satellite receiver were where one would expect them to be, in the living room. Then I realized her desktop looked decidedly empty.

  “Did she have her laptop with her when she was found?”

  “No, it was on her desk when we checked out her apartment after she was finally identified. Gus,” Sergeant Ryan hollered, “did Johnny pick up the computer?”

  “Not yet,” came the shout from the back of the apartment.

  “Damn him. There goes our chance to check her email and Facebook for possible leads.”

  “You can get that info from her cellphone, can’t you?”

  “No cell. Her purse is missing, along with her wallet. Main reason for the delay in identification, that and her facial injuries. We figure the cell was with the purse, since we didn’t find it here.”

  “So her assailant stole her purse.”

  “Possibly, but she was found in an area where homeless people hang out. So could be one of them took the purse.”

  I glanced at the empty desktop. “Don’t you think it strange that the only item taken from here is her computer?”

  “If there is one thing I’ve learned after fifteen years of policing, it’s that the people who commit crimes often do it for the craziest of reasons. I’ve investigated B and E’s where the only items taken were everyday household things you could buy at Walmart. Do you notice anything else missing?”

  While I studied the living room, Ryan jotted in her notebook. Last night I’d noticed a coat hanger hanging empty from a hook in the middle of the wall over the sofa. At the time I hadn’t thought much about it, other than it was a strange place to leave a hanger. But today in the light of day I realized I’d seen this unique coat hanger before. Covered with red and orange braided ribbon, it was used for hanging only one item.

  “I don’t see her deerskin dress. It’s a very old dress that was once worn by her Algonquin great-grandmother. It’s very valuable.”

  “Do you have any photos of it?”

  “I know we have one at our home in Quebec of her wearing it at a powwow. It’s likely she has the same photo here.”

  “If you could search for it later, that would be good. If you don’t see anything else, I’m going to have to ask you to leave, while we process the apartment. Do you have some place to go?”

  “As mentioned I’m meeting someone up at the airport.” I glanced at my watch. “I should be leaving now. How long do you think you’ll be?”

  “It’s hard to tell. Give me a call when you plan on returning. But on second thought, you might want to consider checking into a hotel. Since the perp didn’t force entry into the apartment, it suggests he or she has a key.”

  TWELVE

  While I accepted the sergeant’s offer for Constable Teresko call-me-Gus to drive me to the airport, I turned down his offer to take me and my friend to wherever we were going afterward. I thought Eric’s defence attorney might not fancy riding with the police who’d arrested her client.

  But I needn’t have hurried. Sally McLeod’s flight from Edmonton was delayed by thirty minutes, so I settled into one of the hardback seats in the arrivals area under the hungry eye of the polar bear guarding the baggage carousel.

  I took the opportunity to make some calls, the first to Janet, but was only able to leave a message for her to call me.

  I reached Uncle Joe buying himself a coffee in the hospital cafeteria. Despite the sedation having been completely stopped, he hadn’t noticed any signs of Teht’aa waking up. After drinking his coffee, he planned to head to the Healing Room to smudge the Creator into nudging his grandniece awake. I took a moment to say my own silent prayer to whichever gods would listen.

  I also called Derrick, something I’d been putting off. He surprised me when I told him about hiring a new lawyer.

  “Good,” was his immediate reaction. “Your husband is a nice man, and I’d hate to see him go to jail. He’s going to need bigger guns than I can muster. I’m not really a defence attorney. But I’m happy to help out in whatever capacity I can. I know a lot of the players in this town. I’ve done wills and real estate deals for most of them.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll run it by Sally and get back to you.”

  “You talking about Sally McLeod, the lawyer who won the Bedford case?”

  “I don’t know about the Bedford case, but yes, Sally McLeod is her name.”

  �
��Wow. You definitely got yourself one of the top defence attorneys in Canada.”

  “Any further word on Eric?”

  “The RCMP are sending a plane to bring him back to Yellowknife later today. I’ll let you know when he arrives.”

  “Where will they take him?”

  “He’ll likely be detained at the detachment.”

  “Will I be able to see him?”

  “Sorry, no visitors until after the show cause.”

  “Show cause?”

  “That’s the bail hearing. It’ll likely be tomorrow or the next day. I guess you won’t be needing me for that, eh?”

  “It’s Sally McLeod’s call. She’s arriving in another twenty minutes. I’ll have her call you, okay?”

  “Yah, sure, thanks. By the way, your husband says hi. He’s glad you’re in Yellowknife, but he doesn’t want you wasting time on him. He said he can get himself out of this mess. He wants you to do what you can to ensure his daughter is receiving the best care.”

  “Tell him I’m on it. You can also let him know that she’s doing well with Uncle Joe by her side.” I decided not to mention the lingering coma. My husband had enough to worry about. “Tell him I love him and I’ll see him soon, and I know damn well he didn’t do it.”

  I hung up feeling the tears trickle down my cheeks. Was I ever going to be able to hug the only man I’d ever loved, or were we going to face years looking at each other through bars?

  Someone jerked the seat behind me, tearing me away from my morbid thoughts. New arrivals were spilling through a gate and crowding around the baggage carousel. But the flight from Edmonton was another ten minutes away. A man standing against the wall kept glancing at me as if he knew me. While he looked vaguely familiar, I couldn’t place him, so I didn’t feel compelled to smile back. Besides, I was in no mood to talk to anyone.

  Eric had me wondering if Teht’aa was getting the optimal care her injuries demanded, especially the brain injury. Though I was certain the medical care was good, Yellowknife wasn’t likely large enough to attract specialized medical talent. Dr. Yausie had been introduced as a surgeon, not a neurosurgeon. I suspected the hospital didn’t have one. I would have to do what I could to ensure a neurosurgeon became involved in her care.

  “Sorry to bother you, but are you married to Eric Odjik?”

  I looked up into light-brown eyes partially hidden by a fringe of coal-black hair. The man who had been staring at me brushed the hair from his eyes.

  “You likely don’t remember me, but we met during one of your husband’s visits to Yellowknife when he was campaigning for the GCFN Grand Chief. I’m Reginald Mantla, Grand Chief of the Tlicho.”

  I tried to recall the visit. “Sorry, you’ve caught me at a bad moment. We must’ve met at the feast that was held in honour of Eric’s visit.”

  “You’ve got a good memory. It was held at Behchoko, about an hour’s drive from Yellowknife. As I recall, you were a pretty mean drum dancer.”

  “I remember now. You enticed me to join the circle. It made the evening extra special for me. Thank you. Do you live in Behchoko?”

  “These days I’m spending most of my time in Yellowknife, but normally I live in Digadeh, another Tlicho community.”

  “Oh,” was all I could think to say, not wanting to bring up the murder.

  But he did it for me. “Let me tell you how sorry I am to hear about your husband. But I imagine everything will be straightened out.”

  “It had better be.”

  “I greatly admire your husband and look forward to working with him in his new role as GCFN Grand Chief.”

  A pregnant pause. Neither of us wanted to voice what was uppermost in our minds, that it might never happen.

  He glanced over at another set of new arrivals filing through the gate. “I see my wife and son. It was good meeting you again, and please let Eric know that I am more than willing to offer any support he needs. I feel badly that it happened in my community.”

  He greeted a plump blonde woman with a young boy shyly clinging to her side. I remembered chatting with her at the feast. We’d carried on a heated discussion about the merits of huskies versus poodles. Neither of us was willing to budge.

  As I watched him tousle his son’s curly hair and lift the child, shrieking, into the air, I remembered something else about the man. He’d wanted the job of GCFN Grand Chief and had come a close second to Eric.

  I then noticed a slim, unsmiling woman in no-nonsense business attire striding through the gate on foot-crunching high heels. She pulled out her cellphone. A second later my phone rang.

  THIRTEEN

  It was Sally McLeod on the phone, but she wasn’t the woman I’d thought. She, too, was wearing the de rigueur business suit, but her pale-blue Chanel suit and off-white silk blouse were considerably less formidable. With her well-rounded figure, soft grey hair, and twinkling blue-grey eyes, she presented more of a grand­motherly image than that of the foremost defence attorney in Canada. But maybe that was her secret.

  “My dear, I know you’re terribly worried, but we are going to get your husband off, you hear? So put a smile on those lips.” She squeezed my hand. “Now let’s go to the car rental counter. I hate having to rely on cabs.”

  If I’d thought she was going to rent the fanciest car in Yellowknife, I was wrong. We climbed into a discreet white Yaris, the cheapest economy to be had. Which, when I thought about it, was fine by me. I was probably paying for it.

  “I’m dying for a decent cup of coffee. The slop they served on the plane didn’t come close to being drinkable.” She deftly manoeuvred the car around a stopped vehicle and onto the main road. “I’m sure you want one too.”

  “I’d love one, along with a muffin. But I’m afraid I haven’t been in Yellowknife long enough to discover the best place for coffee.”

  “No problem. I know the town as if it were my own. My daughter and the grandkids live here. Your choice. Tim Hortons or McDonald’s? Too small a town for Starbucks.” She whomped on the gas to pass a slow-moving car and almost hit bottom at a sudden dip in the road. “Sorry about that. I always forget about these dips, a northern specialty. They’re caused by the permafrost melting under the roadbed.”

  After picking up our coffees, a chocolate donut for her, and a fruit explosion muffin for me at the drive-thru window, we drove back onto the main road.

  “We could’ve drunk our coffee at Tims, but Yellowknife’s a small town with the usual big ears. Since your husband is well known, I thought it best we talk in private. We’ll go to one of my favourite spots.”

  I was wiping the last crumbs from my mouth by the time we came to a stop in a parking area overlooking a park next to the lake. While most of the opposite shore was wilderness, directly across stood an impressive stone building with a couple of black Quonset-style roofs rising above the flat roofline.

  “The Prince of Wales Northern Heritage Centre,” she said. “Worth a visit.”

  “I’m sure it is, but I won’t have time. I don’t plan on sticking around once Eric is freed.”

  She fixed me with a chilling blue stare. “As much as we’d like to hurry it up, the court system has its own schedule. It can sometimes take up to two years to go to trial.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding. Are you saying that Eric will be in jail all that time?” I shuddered at the thought.

  “That’s why we’re going to push for release, but more on that shortly. Follow me.”

  She opened the car door and climbed out clutching her purse, the coffee cup, and the bag with the donut. Carrying my own cup, I traipsed behind her down a set of concrete steps to a bench overlooking the water. A metal sculpture of stylized dancers cavorted beside it.

  “The sculpture is by T-Bo,” she said, sinking onto the bench. “He was actually a Thibault, but since no one up here could spell the French-Canadian name, he s
hortened it.”

  “Have you talked to my husband yet?” I sat down beside her.

  “I will today when he arrives in Yellowknife. I’ll want to talk to his current lawyer. Have you had a chance to let Derrick know of my involvement?”

  “This morning, and he was fine with the change.”

  “Good. If you don’t mind the cost, it’ll be useful to keep him on retainer. I could use eyes on the ground for when I’m not here.”

  I’d happily have paid for a hundred lawyers if they were needed to free Eric.

  “As I said, my first job is to get him released. I imagine the show cause will be tomorrow or the next day. How high are you prepared to go with bail?”

  “As much as it takes. Don’t worry about the money. I have investments I can tap into. And if need be, I can sell some land.”

  “There’ll be no need to sell any land. Normally, bail is very low in this court, but since Eric is out-of-province and an important man, the Crown might ask for more, but likely not more than five thousand, ten at the most. We don’t go in for high bail amounts like they do in the States.”

  “Do you really think they will release him?”

  “With a murder charge, it’s less certain. Unlike other charges, the onus is on the defence to prove why he should be released. But he’s an upstanding citizen with no priors. His only criminal conviction was for assault in ’85, plus a few traffic violations, nothing to cause the court concern.” She munched on her donut. “Ah, I see you didn’t know about the conviction.”

  No, I didn’t. “Do you mean he spent time in jail?”

  “He was probated for time served plus community work. I imagine it was youthful hijinks. He was twenty and no doubt feeling his testosterone. It was either a bar brawl or a fight over a girl. I wouldn’t take him to task on it. The important point is that it is his only criminal charge … until now. Right now the charge is first-degree murder, but I’m going to get it reduced to manslaughter.”

  “How likely is that?”