“Give it to the police.”
“Like you saw, I don’t have the best relationship with them. It’d be better coming from you.”
“Okay, what have you got?” I shouted back from the height of the first landing.
He glanced over at the couple walking on the opposite side of the street. “I’ll come up there.”
“No!” I was never going to let a strange man into my apartment, my house, whatever … not ever again. I ran back down the stairs.
EIGHTEEN
I thought it would be something substantial, a solid lead to the man who attacked Teht’aa, but all Josh gave me was a purple flower. Not the kind that grew out of the ground, but one that had been crafted from a soft, bristly material.
“It’s moosehair,” he said.
He slid his fingers over the tightly packed tufts that had been clipped short, dyed purple, and sewn onto a piece of suede that had the golden colour and suppleness of moosehide. There was one complete flower with a couple of green, tufted leaves and three petals of another one that looked as if it had been ripped apart.
“It’s Dene. They decorate vests, moccasins, and purses with these flowers.”
“Where did you get it?” I held out my hand.
He dropped the flowers onto my open palm. The hide felt as soft and silky as deerskin.
“I found it in the parking lot across from where Teht’aa was attacked.”
“Why do you think it belongs to her?”
“We were out drinking together a couple of weeks ago. She was picking my brains about the job. This fell out of her purse. When I picked it off the floor, she snatched it out of my hand.” He stopped talking as an elderly woman walked behind us. She was struggling with a young boy intent on extricating his hand from her grasp.
His eyes followed the pair. “The terrible twos. My kid’s going through those too.” He watched them for another few seconds before turning back to me. “As I was saying, Teht’aa acted as if she didn’t want me to see it.”
“How do you know this is the same piece?”
“I remember the purple colour and the unusual tufts. Moosehair isn’t used much anymore. Today, most Dene embroidery is done with coloured beads.”
“Like the centre of this flower.” I fingered the clear beads and watched them catch the afternoon sun’s rays. “How lovely. They sparkle.”
“I also noticed this mark.” He pointed to what looked to be a tiny bird made from yellow thread that had been embroidered into one of the corners of the hide.
“Why do you think it’s related to her attack?”
“I found it when I was reporting on the incident. It was lying on the ground near where I’d parked my car. This morning I noticed these spots.”
I could barely make out the faint reddish brown colour soaked into the tufts of two petals. But the spots on the hide were more pronounced. “It looks like blood.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“Why didn’t you hand it over to the police?”
“I didn’t think it important until I saw the blood this morning.”
“So why give it to me?”
“I don’t want to get involved. Me and my family are moving to Regina next week, and I don’t want anything to delay it.” He stopped to answer his phone. After a short conversation of no’s and yes’s, he hung up. “I’ve got to go. You do whatever you want with it, just keep my name out of it.”
“It might not be possible.”
“You’ll figure out something, because if you do mention my name, I’ll release a video of your husband offering a GCFN member a bribe to vote for him in the election.”
The van began to move while I was trying to absorb his blatant attempt at blackmail. Before I could question him about the video, he peeled off in a squeal of rubber, a whisker-length from hitting the BMW. But he braked to a stop beside the grandmother and the boy, who was now sitting on the ground, shrieking his refusal to walk any farther. Josh hopped out of the van, lifted the suddenly quiet child into the passenger side, helped the grandmother climb in, and drove off. So he wasn’t all bad. But he was still a bastard to me.
I thrust the petals into my pocket, muttering, “What in the world am I supposed to do with this?”
I knew I should give it to Sergeant Ryan. But she would want to know how it came into my possession. Once I gave her the journalist’s name, I had little doubt that he would carry out his threat. The national coverage would be too tempting and the last thing Eric needed.
But I found it hard to believe that the video was of Eric. He was the most honest man I knew. He became band chief for the Migiskan Anishinabeg Reserve on a platform of cleaning up corruption. He refused to pass out the usual bottles of free booze for votes, and it worked. They elected him six times.
If anyone had bought votes, it was that man Reggie. During the campaign Eric had caught wind of some underhanded dealings related to his main opponent, but he was unable to obtain sufficient information to report it. To be on the safe side, though, I would wait until I had a chance to talk to him before doing anything about these bloody petals.
I lumbered up the three flights of stairs, cursing the journalist with each stomp on the wooden steps. With my heart pounding, I was gulping in mouthfuls of air by the time I reached the top landing. Maybe doing this several times a day would get me in the kind of shape Eric kept telling me I should be in.
Remembering Sergeant Ryan’s caution, I pulled the doorknob to ensure it was firmly locked. I also rang the doorbell and called out that I was coming in, which, let’s face it, was not the brightest move. If an intruder really were inside, all this noise would only serve to warn him to hide. I waited a few minutes in the vestibule for the silence to continue before gathering up enough nerve to walk into the living room.
The police had not only left the mess the way I’d found it, but they’d also added to it. Liberal amounts of dark-grey powder were sprinkled over a variety of surfaces.
I checked the spare bedroom to see if Gloria had returned and was startled to discover her softly snoring, lying fully clothed on the bed with a blanket half on, half off her. A strong odour of alcohol permeated the room.
A tad early in the day, I thought, shaking my head. If she kept this up, what kind of state would she be in when she reached my age — that is, if she survived that long. I pulled the blanket up to fully cover her and closed the door behind me, though why, I couldn’t guess. If the doorbell and my shouts hadn’t woken her, my padding around the apartment certainly wouldn’t.
After retrieving my wallet from Teht’aa’s bedroom, I returned to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. Nothing calmed twanging nerves like a soothing cup of hot black tea. I moved Teht’aa’s clothes off the couch, took a long, slow, warming sip of coffee, then placed the mug on the coffee table beside the stone bear before pulling out Eric’s cell. I’d try Sally again in case she hadn’t seen my earlier message. But before I could click on her number, she was calling me. Except when I answered, it wasn’t her.
I heard a long, lingering sigh before the words, “Hi, my love. It’s me.”
“Oh, Eric. It’s you. It’s really you. How are you?” Banal words, but my emotions were in such a swirl that I didn’t know what else to say.
“Miskowàbigonens, my little red flower. It’s so wonderful to hear your voice.”
My heart twisted at the sadness in his. “When am I going to see you? I want to hug you.”
“I’m so sorry to cause all this trouble, to make you come all this way when you’re not ready. I hope it wasn’t too stressful.”
“Oh, Eric. Forget about me. I’m fine. It’s you I’m worried about. Are you okay?” I tried to shake the vision of him sitting shackled in a cold, inhospitable room.
“I’ll survive. I want to know how Teht’aa’s doing. Is she going to make it?”
“She’s still in the coma, but the doctor’s optimistic that she has no brain damage. I’ve chartered an air ambulance to transfer her to Edmonton tonight. If that doesn’t work out, the hospital has one booked for tomorrow noon. Either way, she’ll get the proper neurosurgeon care she needs.”
“You’ll go with her,” he said more as a fact than a hope.
“But I want to be with you.”
“Don’t worry about me. She needs you more than I do.”
“Okay,” I said, not wanting to argue. But as far as I was concerned, Uncle Joe would be the family member going with her. “Can I come visit you?”
“No,” he replied a little too quickly, as if he were ashamed to have me see him in jail. “I appreciate you hiring Sally. She’s obviously a top lawyer. But you could’ve saved your money. Derrick would’ve been fine.”
“No way,” I replied with horror. “He doesn’t have the experience or the smarts to keep you out of jail.”
He sighed and remained quiet for few seconds before saying, “Sally says if all goes well tomorrow, I should be free to walk out the door.”
“I assume she means after the bail hearing. Does she know the time yet? I want to be there.”
“Please, I’d rather you didn’t come. It’s likely to be a circus with all the media. I don’t want you exposed to it. Besides, you should be on your way to Edmonton. Tell me, how bad is her face?”
“It’s hard to tell because of the bandages. But I have a good feeling she’s going to be okay, and her beautiful smile will be gracing the TV screens in a few short months.”
“I love your optimism.” Another deep sigh. “Christ, what a mess I’ve made of things.”
“Shhh … don’t think that way. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Look, Eric, I’m going to the bail hearing. Uncle Joe can go with Teht’aa. I want to be the one friendly face in the crowd.”
“I don’t want you to. I’ll come to you afterward — that is, if they release me. Where are you staying? At the hotel or at her apartment?”
At least he no longer wanted me going with his daughter. “The apartment. Eric, everything’s going to be okay, you hear? The police will find the real culprit.”
“The Mounties think they already have their man.”
Neither of us laughed at the famous words. Eric called me an optimist. But I wasn’t the true optimist — he was. No matter how bleak things appeared, he would be the one giving it a positive twist. Not this time. I’d never heard him sound so low, so defeated.
“If they won’t search for the killer, I will.”
I could hear Sally saying something to him in the background.
“I guess we should cut this short. I’ll see you at the bail hearing.” I paused. “Eric, I love you.”
NINETEEN
I felt emotionally drained. The pall of black clouds advancing over the lake made my spirits fall further, while the steaming hot tea was failing miserably.
Teht’aa so badly injured, she might not be able to take up the dream job she’d fought for. Eric charged with murder, his cherished goal of being a fair and equitable spokesman for his people a tattered ruin. He was right. It was a mess.
Yet less than a week ago, life was on the upswing.
Teht’aa, ecstatic about her new job, had beat out two other candidates, both white, both male, to become the first native female announcer for the CBC. Eric was getting into his stride as Grand Chief after an arduous year-long campaign in which not every candidate played by the rules. And I was making progress, albeit slowly. I’d managed to quell the jitters so that the horror of that godawful night no longer ruled my dreams.
We had thought the bad times were behind us, if not the memories.
So what had we done wrong to make the gods angry?
I swallowed another mouthful of tea. Outside, the blackness had spread over the lake, turning its blue brilliance into dull, light-sucking grey. Rain was on the way. I knew I should go back to the hospital, but I didn’t think I could watch Teht’aa’s corpse-like body without succumbing completely to despair.
I threw the rest of the tea down the drain and surveyed the dark confines of the narrow kitchen, wondering in which cupboard my stepdaughter kept her booze. A bracing slug of vodka would sure lift my spirits. I’d even accept Scotch, rye, any liquor as long as it contained sufficient alcohol to dull the pain. I checked two cupboards without success and was about to open a third when I heard the drum-roll ring of Eric’s cell.
“Auntie, it’s me,” came Jid’s breathless voice through the airwaves.
I’d expected it to be Eric and I felt a tinge of relief that it wasn’t. As much as I wanted to hear his voice again, I didn’t think I could summon up the optimistic support that would be needed right now.
“Hi, how’s it going?”
Bubbling over with excitement, Jid told me about the latest happenings in his life. He’d been invited to play the striker position for the Migiskan Ravens, the senior boys soccer team, a level up from what he’d played last year.
“How’s Shoni doing?” I asked, and off he went without taking the time to catch his breath. The puppy and the fawn had become the best of buddies, with Shoni sneaking into the stall to play with her. Janet let him give the bottle of milk to Kidi, which she slurped up while Shoni lapped up the dribbles falling onto the straw.
As I listened to him prattle on, bursting with the joie de vivre that only the young can feel, I felt my spirits rise. Everyone needs a child in their life to put their own into perspective. I was pondering the best way to bring up his hero without deflating this exuberance when I realized I was listening to silence.
“Jid, you still there?”
I could hear his breathing and the puppy whimpering, followed by rustling.
“Shoni, woof, it’s your momma,” the boy said in the background.
“Hi, Shoni, it’s me.” I felt a little silly yelling through the phone at a dog.
More rustling as he returned to the phone, but the silence continued.
“Jid, you okay?”
More silence and then, “The TV says Shome is a murderer.”
“He’s not. You and I both know Eric would never kill anyone.”
“Yah, that’s what I told the boys at school. I even got into a fight.”
“Did you win?”
He laughed softly. “Yah, but I got a black eye.”
“Good. Because we’re going to win, even if we get a couple of black eyes, maybe some scrapes and bruises. We know Eric didn’t do it, and we’re going to make sure the police prove it, okay?”
“I guess.”
“Jid, I know it’s hard, but it’s important we don’t give in, for his sake as much as ours. We have to keep smiling for him. We have to keep fighting, okay?” I felt I was saying this as much for myself as for the boy.
“Yah, I’m good. How’s Auntie Teht’aa? She gonna be okay?”
“She’s going to be fine. Shome and I will be bringing her home soon, and we’ll have one big family reunion, okay?” I prayed the gods were listening.
“Are Shoni and Kidi invited too?”
“Of course, it wouldn’t be a family reunion without them.”
I set the phone down, feeling more upbeat and more ready to do what I could to save Eric. I even felt I could manage a return to the hospital. And then Gloria padded back into my life.
One could never say that she entered it silently. Her shrill curses bouncing off the hall walls provided sufficient warning. She stumbled into the living room almost as if she didn’t know it was there.
Night had been kind to her. In the harsh reality of daylight, she looked like she’d risen from the dead. Her skimpy rayon dress, two sizes too large for her, was twisted around her tiny skeletal frame. Its faded yellow colour did nothing for her sallow complexion. What might have been a beehive of cascading
ringlets at the start of last night was a tangled mat of purple and dark-brown hair. Under the streaks of mascara I could see that her features were striking, almost those of a classic beauty, but the sneering twist of her smile did nothing to bring that beauty out. The biggest surprise and the saddest was her age; she was barely into her twenties. Last night I’d assumed she was well past her youth.
“Tee never keeps any booze in this shithole. You got any?”
And a good day to you, too. “Nope.”
She shoved a hank of purple hair behind her ear. “Can you loan me a twenty? I’ll pay you back.”
I eyed her with suspicion. “Would Teht’aa loan you the money?”
Her eyes flashed annoyance as she flopped onto the other end of the sofa.
“You got a cigarette? I’m all out.”
“I don’t smoke. Nor should you.”
She jerked off the sofa, stomped over the bare wood floors to the hall closet, and searched the pockets of a puffy pink jacket. “Fuck,” she snarled when she came up empty. She returned to the couch.
“I was surprised you weren’t here when the police came this morning.”
“Police? Fuck. Were they looking for me?”
“Not really, but I gather they have an arrest warrant out for you.”
She brushed that off with an indifferent shrug. “How’s Tee? She gonna be okay?”
“We don’t know yet. She’s still unconscious. Would you like to visit her?”
She shivered. “No, I’m good. I don’t do so good in hospitals. What did the cops want?”
“I was worried that someone had broken into this place.”
“Yah, maybe. Tee ain’t the neatest, but it ain’t usually this bad.”
“The RCMP suspect the thief got in using a key. Do you know who has keys?”
“Her dad’s got one.”
“I doubt he’d be robbing his own daughter.”
“Yah, I guess. I’m pretty sure Frank had one, ’cause he was here without Tee one time when I came in.”
Purple Palette for Murder Page 9