Purple Palette for Murder

by R. J. Harlick

  “Teht’aa, open your eyes if you can hear me?” the doctor said.

  Nothing.

  He tried again, and again no response.

  Turning to us, he said, “If she hasn’t regained consciousness by tomorrow morning, I’m considering medevacing her to Edmonton, where they have neurosurgeons on staff. While all her vitals look good and the CT scan is showing no further intracranial hypertension, I’m concerned that she isn’t yet showing signs of coming out of the coma. It’s been over twelve hours since I stopped the pentobarbital. Usually by this time we start to see signs of consciousness.”

  “Why not transfer her today?” I asked. “It looks like she needs a neurosurgeon to check her out now, not tomorrow.”

  “Like I said, her vitals are good and there is no longer any swelling in the brain, so I am optimistic that she will come out of the coma soon.”

  “How certain?”

  “Every patient is unique. Some people take longer to heal than others, and so it is with the brain. As you know, it’s the most complex organ in the body. While the medical field has learned much about the workings of the brain, there are still aspects that we don’t understand. I wish I could tell you exactly when she will regain consciousness, but I can’t.”

  “All the more reason for her to see a specialist as soon as possible. I would like her flown to Edmonton today.”

  “To make this happen, she needs a fully equipped air ambulance. I’m afraid none are available for today, but staff have reserved one for tomorrow.” He glanced at the curtain separating us from the young heart patient next door.

  “Have they been able to find one for her?”

  “I don’t know. She’s not my patient. But I think you appreciate that her need is more pressing.”

  “I do and wouldn’t want Teht’aa to take her place. But maybe my stepdaughter could share the plane if they’re going to the same hospital.”

  “Sorry, that’s not possible.”

  “Is there a privately owned plane I could charter?

  “It would be a significant cost.”

  “I can handle it. I love Teht’aa as much as my husband does and would hate to see her suffer serious brain damage. If getting her to a neurosurgeon one day sooner lessens the risk, then I’m more than willing to cash in some bonds.”

  “I pay too,” Uncle Joe piped up. “I have savings.”

  “Good,” replied Dr. Yausie. “I’ll let Rita know. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to attend to another patient.”

  “That’s very kind of you, Uncle Joe,” I said, resuming my seat beside the bed. “But it’s not necessary.”

  “We see. I want to help.”

  “Perhaps you can help another way. Since I don’t want to leave Eric, I am hoping you can go with Teht’aa to Edmonton.”

  “My granddaughter is going to have baby. Is why I come to Yellowknife. But for Teht’aa, I go. Your husband need you.” He pushed himself out of the chair. “Nothing more we can do here. I need a bowl of noodle soup. You do too.”

  SIXTEEN

  I braced myself and waited for the crunch when Teht’aa’s Bimmer came within inches of striking a left-turning car. When it didn’t, I readied myself for the next near miss. You’d have thought I’d be used to Uncle Joe’s kamikaze driving by now.

  We were racing to the airport after our lunch at the noodle place, which, by the way, Uncle Joe had to pay for, because in my rush to leave this morning I’d forgotten my wallet. While I was slurping the last of my vermicelli soup, Sally had called to tell me that Eric’s plane would be landing momentarily. She would be consulting with her client at the detachment and would also try to arrange a visiting time for me, though she wasn’t hopeful. Visitors weren’t normally allowed before the court appearance. She insisted that there was no point in my going to the airport. He’d be taken straight from the plane to the RCMP van, giving me no opportunity to speak to him. The most I could hope for would be a glimpse, which was better than nothing, so off Uncle Joe and I sped.

  We arrived at the airport in time to see a white twin-engine plane marked with the red, yellow, white, and blue stripes of the RCMP about to set its wheels down on the runway. Instead of driving straight to the terminal, Uncle Joe veered past.

  “Where are you going?” I kept my eyes on the plane until it disappeared behind the terminal.

  “The RCMP hangar. They take him there.”

  “How do you know?”

  “RCMP bring my nephew there every time he arrested.”

  “Every time?”

  “Thirty, forty. I lost count. Mostly for assault. He get drunk and beat up whoever handy. Mostly girlfriends.”

  “Sounds like he spends most of his time in jail.”

  “He get off a lot. He got fetal alcohol syndrome. Can’t control his temper, so judge easy on him.”

  “His poor mother. She must feel guilty for drinking during her pregnancy.”

  “She didn’t want him. Took off and left his grandmother, my wife’s sister, to look after him. The kid not a bad guy, just can’t stay away from booze. They got him on a healing program. He stopped drinking. Hasn’t been in trouble for a good year.”

  We were driving along a road that paralleled the runway and had already passed several low industrial buildings and Quonsets, some sporting the names of airlines.

  “But he’s always going to have anger issues and other problems related to the syndrome. It’s not going away.”

  “He good hunter. Spend much time on the land away from people, hunting for elders. See the SUV in front of us? It’s the RCMP coming to get Eric.”

  I noticed for the first time that the white SUV we’d been following bore the RCMP markings, complete with the Mountie on the horse. The vehicle slowed to turn in to a side road next to a low-rise building with blue metal siding. As we turned onto the road, I saw a sign that read “Yellowknife Air section, RCMP ‘G’ Division.” The SUV pulled to a halt in front of a gate in a chain-link fence. Beyond I could see the tarmac. Uncle Joe jerked the car to a stop within inches of the cops’ bumper.

  I heard the engines before I saw the police aircraft emerge from behind a government jet parked on the tarmac. It taxied past us. I stuck my hand out the window and waved in case Eric could see me. But the hope of watching him leave the plane was quashed the second it disappeared behind the RCMP building. Only the tail remained in view.

  Soon my love, soon.

  An angry Sergeant Ryan hopped out of the passenger side and motioned for us to leave.

  “It’s me, Meg Harris,” I hollered as I walked around the back of Teht’aa’s car. “I’ve come to see my husband.”

  “Sorry, no can do, it’s against regs. Gus, I’ll get the gate.”

  She strode to where a padlock dangled from a thick chain.

  “Please, I really want to see him.”

  “Not allowed.” She slapped her pockets as if searching for something. “Fuck. Gus, did you bring the key?”

  We both whirled around at the sharp squeal of tires behind us. A CBC van swerved around the corner and lurched to a halt behind Teht’aa’s car. The male reporter I’d met at the hospital jumped out of the driver’s side and sauntered toward us, while the same camerawoman hefted her heavy equipment onto her shoulder and started filming.

  “Sergeant Ryan, are you—”

  “Josh, you know you have to go through media relations.”

  He flashed a set of pearly whites, doubtless his ticket onto the TV screen. “Come on, El, you know me. Hell, we were drinking at the same bar last night.”

  “Along with fifty other people. Now, I’d appreciate if you could back your van out onto the road.”

  “I just have a few questions which you can answer quicker than Yves. After all, the Digadeh murder is your case.”

  “Christ, Josh, what planet do you live on? Yo
u know I can’t discuss a case. Now, please return to your vehicle.” Ignoring the camera trained on her, she strode toward him, stopping centimetres from the microphone.

  He held his ground. “Is there a connection between the Frank Chocolate murder and the sexual assault on Teht’aa Bluegoose?”

  I held my breath for the answer.

  “Josh, are you going to leave nicely on your own, or do we have to escort you off RCMP property?”

  Gus sauntered up beside her, crossed his arms over his Kevlar vest, and stared down at the much shorter man. Josh looked as if he were about to speak, then, thinking better of it, waved at his camerawoman to stop filming and strode back to the van.

  The two officers kept their eyes trained on the vehicle as it reversed onto the main road. But it didn’t drive away; instead, Josh parked it on the shoulder within full view of the cops and the gate.

  “I am going to have to ask you to leave too, Ms. Harris.”

  “Can’t I let my husband know I’m here?”

  “You’ll get your chance later. Now go.”

  I watched the constable slide the gate open and for one crazy second thought of running through it. Maybe I could help Eric escape. Maybe we could race across the runway to the distant line of trees and flee this nightmare. But as if reading my thoughts, the sergeant rested her hand on her gun holster. I shoved the ludicrous idea aside and retreated to the car.

  “You wave to him from here,” Uncle Joe said, parking the BMW in front of the CBC van.

  I watched the RCMP SUV disappear around the corner of the building in the direction of the plane.

  Poor Eric. How humiliating. To arrive so ignominiously in one of his favourite towns. I was very glad Ryan had ordered Josh away. He wouldn’t be able to capture Eric climbing, manacled, out of the plane and broadcast the video for the world to see.

  In what seemed less time than it took to blink, the white RCMP SUV was speeding through the gate and swerving onto the main road. By the time it streaked past us, I was standing by the car, waving. It drove by too quickly for me to pick out Eric. But I thought I saw a shadowy figure in the back seat nod in my direction. It was only as I watched the back of the cop vehicle disappearing around the corner that I realized a nod would have been all Eric could manage. His hands would be cuffed.

  I felt the coolness of tears tickling down my cheeks at the same time as I sensed someone’s eyes on me. I looked up into a camera lens and a microphone ready to capture my words.

  “Fuck.”

  SEVENTEEN

  I didn’t care if my mother would be turning in her grave at my less than ladylike response. I was ticked and told the reporter so. With visions of my tear-stained face filling up the TV screen, I stopped short of saying exactly what I thought of his privates.

  The old man’s infectious laugh had me joining in as we zoomed away from the pointed camera.

  When I finally stopped giggling, I said, “God, I needed that.”

  “That guy no good. People don’t like him. Teht’aa taking over his job.”

  “Let’s hope she can. But I hadn’t realized she’d be going after the news in addition to reading it.”

  “Teht’aa says CBC office pretty small in Yellowknife after many budget cuts. The news announcer do the big stories.”

  “The arrest of the Grand Chief of GCFN for murder is certainly a big story. It would also get Josh’s face splashed on TV screens across the country. Maybe he wants to use it to find another job.”

  Uncle Joe turned into the hospital parking lot.

  “Do you mind if I take the car?” I asked. “I need to get my wallet at the apartment, and I want to see Eric.”

  Although I’d heard nothing yet from Sally, I decided to go to the detachment and camp out on their doorstep, if that was what it took to persuade them to let me visit my husband.

  “But first Teht’aa. I want to see how she’s doing and find out if they’ve found a plane.”

  Eric’s daughter seemed as deathly still as this morning and the morning before. However, when I told her that her father had returned to Yellowknife, I thought I saw her eyelids flutter.

  “Flutter your eyes again if you can hear me.”

  I wasn’t certain, but they might’ve moved.

  “Did you see that, Uncle Joe?”

  “See what?”

  “Her eyelids move.”

  “Nope.

  Nonetheless, I felt more optimistic that Teht’aa would soon be joining us.

  The news on the medevac front was less promising. All private air ambulances in the Territories and Alberta were in use. The only possibility was a plane that was currently evacuating someone from northern Saskatchewan to Regina. If the province had no other priority requirements, the airline would send the airplane to Yellowknife. But they wouldn’t know until late afternoon, and given the distance it would be late evening before the plane arrived. Meanwhile, the hospital had booked an air ambulance for tomorrow at noon.

  My initial reaction was to cancel the charter and go with the hospital’s booking. But though the medical staff assured me that Teht’aa’s condition was stable, they couldn’t assure me that it wouldn’t take an unexpected change for the worse. So I gave them my credit card information for the deposit and left Teht’aa — my stepdaughter, my sister, my best friend — under her great-uncle’s watchful eye.

  Before setting off for her apartment, I tried Sally’s number but was routed to voicemail. I hoped this meant she was sitting across a table from Eric, plotting his release.

  I had assumed the way to the apartment was straightforward. But I hadn’t paid enough attention to Uncle Joe’s route and found myself driving around in circles in a neighbourhood of crescents that seemed more befitting of a city suburb than a town surrounded by hundreds of kilometres of wilderness. Even if I’d known her address, I didn’t have the foggiest idea how to plug it into the fancy navigation system. Driving a fifteen-year-old pickup with wind-up windows didn’t exactly equip me with the required know-how.

  I would’ve stopped and asked, but the sidewalks were as empty of people as the road was of cars. A search of the glove compartment and door pockets only turned up a map of Edmonton and an unpaid parking ticket.

  I was stopped at a junction agonizing over whether to turn left or right or continue straight ahead when I finally saw a vehicle. It was backing out of the driveway of one of the largest houses on the street, about a half block behind me. I swerved around in a U-turn. You gotta love the turning ratio of these Bimmers. With my hand on the horn, I managed to stop the SUV before it turned onto another street.

  “What do you want?” the blonde woman yelled, powering down the window of a Grand Cherokee I could’ve sworn was Eric’s, complete with the metallic champagne colour, except his Jeep was parked at the Ottawa airport.

  A curly-haired child peered at me from the back seat. The child seemed familiar, as did the woman.

  While I tried to place them, she beat me to it. “You’re Eric’s wife, aren’t you? We’ve met before.”

  “Of course, Reggie Mantla’s wife. I was chatting with your husband this morning at the airport. Is this where you live?”

  “Yeah, we bought it about six months ago. We used to spend more time in Digadeh, but since Reggie’s work frequently brings him to Yellowknife, as does my job, we decided to move here full-time, which has turned out to be a good decision now that Reggie is taking over the top spot at GCFN.” She stopped to soothe the child, who’d started whimpering. “By the way, I’m sorry to hear about your husband.”

  “That’s quick. Eric has only been arrested for a couple of days. Doesn’t your husband need the endorsement of the assembly to take over?”

  “He came in second in the election, so it’s natural that he assumes control.”

  “Tell him not to get too settled. Eric will be free in no time.”r />
  “Not from what I hear. It’s pretty obvious he killed poor Frank.”

  Not bothering to wait for my reply, she rolled up her window and drove away.

  “No, he didn’t, and I’m going to prove it,” I yelled after her.

  I hopped back into the car, slammed the door with more force than needed, rammed it into drive, and took off after her. I figured she knew where she was going. Though I was making her nervous, I hugged her bumper until we reached an intersection that finally looked familiar. We parted company without a goodbye wave on either part. She drove straight through, while I turned right onto the main road, which I knew would take me through the downtown core, down the big hill, and into Old Town.

  Instead of police cruisers parked outside Teht’aa’s building, there was another unwanted vehicle. The CBC van. I debated driving past but decided that I wasn’t going to let Josh keep me from doing what I had every right to do. Unfortunately, the only free parking was in front of the van, forcing me to walk past him to reach the stairs. Avoiding eye contact, I walked along the opposite side of his vehicle to where he was standing.

  “Mrs. Odjik, do you have a moment?” he shouted.

  I hastened my pace. He ran behind the back of the van to block my passage. I swerved onto Teht’aa’s neighbour’s driveway and made a beeline for her stairs.

  “Please, I just want to talk. I promise I won’t record it.”

  He was alone, without his camerawoman. Regardless, I continued walking.

  “Look, I’m really sorry about Teht’aa. It’s a terrible thing to happen to her. I want to help.”

  “Why? If she doesn’t survive, you get to keep your job.” I started up the stairs.

  “I’m leaving anyway. I have a new job in Regina,” he called out from the bottom step. “I have something that belongs to Teht’aa. It could relate to the assault.”