Purple Palette for Murder

by R. J. Harlick

  “I suspect he was dead by the time this place was robbed. Anyone else who might have a key?”

  She shook her head and glanced at the rain beginning to splatter against the window. “Good. We need it. It’s been too fucking dry. Already started some forest fires.” She turned her brown gaze back to me. “I ran into Frank the day before he got killed.”

  “Here?”

  “No, at Digadeh. We were at a party. He was acting nervous, like, smoking one cigarette after another and getting real drunk like something was really bothering him.” She started rubbing her upper arm as if it bothered her.

  “Did he say what it was?”

  “Nah.”

  “You know some people think he was the one who put Teht’aa in the hospital. Do you think it’s possible?”

  “Yah. He used to hit her, you know, like men do when they want to show you they’re the boss.”

  Didn’t I know it, but it was something I learned when I was a good deal older and not in my twenties like she was. “How did he take the breakup?”

  “He was mad.”

  “Mad enough to hurt her?”

  “Maybe. You sure you don’t got a smoke?”

  “Why don’t you stop?”

  “Fuck off. I don’t need no mother.”

  I should’ve kept my mouth shut, but she looked so young and so in need of a mother.

  She turned her attention back to the rain while she rubbed her arm again. “You know, I saw Tee’s dad in Digadeh?”

  “When?”

  “Day Frank was killed. He was walking from the airport. Wanted me to show him where Frank lived.”

  “Was that where Frank’s body was found?”

  “Yup.”

  TWENTY

  “Shit, shit, shit,” I muttered as I retraced the route to the hospital, this time without the detour. Exactly the kind of evidence the RCMP would use to solidify the case against Eric. Though I was tempted to send Gloria off on a holiday to Mongolia or some other place equally off the beaten track, I felt confident it wasn’t necessary. She wasn’t about to call the cops, and I sure wasn’t going to mention it.

  The wipers flicked the rain back and forth off the windshield. They’d come on automatically while I was searching for the right gizmo to turn them on. I could get used to these modern gadgets. Maybe it was time to finally trade in my poor old rattletrap, if it would let me, for something jazzy like this Bimmer.

  The rain was fleeting and not enough to soak the land. By the time I drove into the hospital parking lot, the sun was drying the puddles.

  As I skirted the nurses’ station, a new nurse, one I’d not seen before, stopped me to tell me that the air ambulance couldn’t make it to Yellowknife this evening. It was needed for a priority emergency medevac in Saskatchewan. But she assured me that Ms. Bluegoose was confirmed for tomorrow’s transport.

  “I should also let you know that she had a neurosurgeon consult this afternoon.”

  “How’s that possible? I thought there wasn’t one in Yellowknife.”

  “About an hour ago Dr. Yausie consulted with Dr. Steeves via the Internet. He’s the neurosurgeon who will be looking after your daughter in Edmonton. It’s so amazing what can be done with technology today, all that sharing of the CT scans and other diagnostic images. Not like when I started out in nursing, when everything had to be couriered. It could take days, especially when it got lost in the mail room.” She twittered as she tucked a silvery curl behind her ear.

  “What was the conclusion? Is she going to come out of the coma?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t answer that, but I can page Dr. Yausie, if you like.”

  I gave her the go-ahead and continued walking to Teht’aa’s bed, where I found Uncle Joe nodding to sleep in his chair with his hand resting on the arm of his grandniece. I tiptoed around to the other side of the bed and took up my station. Any hopes I had of seeing signs of her awakening were quashed by her immobility. Maybe her hand was in a different position, but the nurse would’ve lifted it to check on the IV connection. The rest of her body lay as firmly fixed as it was this morning. The only positive sign was the regular humming of her machinery.

  The young heart patient had been replaced by a much older and heavier woman whose two equally beefy daughters hovered on either side of her bed, wringing their hands. She too was in a coma, although the readings on her machines didn’t appear as normal as Teht’aa’s.

  I must’ve nodded off too, for I started at a sudden tap on my shoulder. I opened my eyes to see the grey-haired nurse peering down at me.

  “A man by the name of Hans Walther is waiting outside and would like to talk to you,” she whispered before placing a vase of long-stem red roses on Teht’aa’s eating table.

  I started to tell her that I wanted nothing to do with the man, but I changed my mind, thinking it wouldn’t hurt to talk to him. He might have something useful to say.

  The dishevelled prospector was cleaned up today in a pair of crisp blue jeans, if jeans could be called crisp. A brown leather jacket was slung casually over his Oxford-shirted shoulder. His scraggly beard was gone, revealing a cleft chin of the Dudley Do-Right variety. His dirty blond shag had been transformed into a respectable businessman’s haircut.

  “Frau Odjik, I am sorry to bother you again. Is it possible you will permit me see Teht’aa?”

  “Sorry, it’s not my call. The hospital only allows relatives. But you already know that.”

  “Ja, but perhaps you could convince them.”

  “If you were her boyfriend, it could be argued that you were family. But I gather you’re not.”

  “Who told you this?”

  “I’d rather not say.”

  “It was Gloria, wasn’t it? She is much trouble. She lies and causes Teht’aa many problems. She steals her things. I don’t know why Teht’aa allows her to stay in the apartment.”

  “Because she’s family, and Teht’aa wants to help her.” Though as I said this, I was mentally going through the items in my suitcase, wondering if there was anything of value that Gloria could use to trade for a bottle of alcohol or a package of cigarettes.

  “I am very worried. I fear my Teht’aa is in danger of dying.”

  “Not any longer. The doctor’s optimistic about her recovery.”

  “I am glad that the man who injured her is dead. I never liked him.”

  “So you knew Frank.”

  A porter pushing a bed with an old man hooked up to an IV squeaked past us too closely, forcing me to brush up against the German. Without thinking, I shoved myself away with a force I didn’t know I had.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, moving closer.

  My hands burned where they had touched him. I backed farther away. “Sorry. It’s nothing. I’m fine. You were saying something about Frank.”

  “Ja. I met him a few times. He didn’t treat Teht’aa the way a man should treat such a precious jewel.”

  When you’re in love, I suppose anything goes. “The police haven’t yet determined that he was the man who assaulted Teht’aa.”

  “Of course he did. He was very angry when she turned him down.”

  “That sounds like a marriage proposal.”

  “Ja, and she said no, as she should.”

  Shit. More ammunition in the case against Eric. Something else to let the police find out on their own.

  “You’re blocking the door. Get out of the way,” ordered a male voice behind me.

  Before I had a chance to move, I found myself being grabbed by Hans. Reason snapped into panic. I had to flee the monster. I pushed and scratched. When I felt resistance, more panic set in.

  “Let me go,” I screamed.

  I stopped when I felt cool air against my face. I scurried away and didn’t stop until there was a hallway separating me from the man.

 
“Are you okay?”

  A nurse stood anxiously beside me. Only then did I notice others, equally concerned, staring at me.

  “Did he hurt you?” she asked.

  I took another gulp of air and tried to calm my clanging nerves. “No, no he didn’t. Please, it’s okay, really.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I sucked in more air. “Yes. Please, it’s just me. Go on with your business.” I waved them away as I felt the blush of embarrassment flood my face. How could I be so stupid?

  “I’m so sorry.” Hans stepped toward me.

  I backed up until I felt the wall. “Please, stay there. It’s nothing to do with you. I’m sorry. It’s me.”

  “I didn’t mean to scare you. The bed was coming straight toward you. I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

  He made another step toward me.

  I slid along the wall. “Just go, okay. I’ll be fine.”

  I usually was after these panic attacks. But it would take time for my nerves to settle and my breathing to return to normal.

  “I would like you to keep me informed on Teht’aa’s progress. Here is my card.” He hesitated with the card in his hand, unsure of what to do with it.

  “Leave it on the floor, okay?”

  He placed it next to the wall. With a brusque goodbye, he disappeared into the stairwell.

  I continued leaning against the wall, willing myself to calm down while people passed, eyeing me suspiciously. This was so ridiculous. I was acting like he’d tried to attack me, when all he’d done was push me out of harm’s way. Come on, Meg, it’s time to get over it.

  Finally I felt settled enough to retrieve the card.

  As I bent down to pick it up, the nurse emerged from behind the ICU door. “Good, there you are. Dr. Yausie is available to speak with you.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  “You worry too much.” Uncle Joe rubbed his trembling fingers along the piece of rat root lying on his palm. “Teht’aa gonna be okay. She be in Behchoko for her five bucks.”

  “Five bucks?”

  “Treaty money.”

  “Sorry, you got me.”

  “It’s in our treaty. Canada must give every Tlicho five bucks every year. Not much now, but buy many bullets, tea, flour, and other stuff at Fort Rae in early days.”

  “Seems rather paternalistic, if you don’t mind my saying.”

  “It’s very important to my people. Is obligation Canada must respect. Also good excuse for a feast.” His black eyes twinkled. “We have very big feast, lots of drum dancing and handball games on Treaty Day. People come from all Tlicho communities.”

  “When is it?”

  “In July, what we call Soòmba Nàzhèe Zaà, Treaty Month.”

  “Let’s hope Teht’aa can join the celebration. From the way the neurosurgeon in Edmonton was talking, it might be possible.” I smoothed out a wrinkle in her pale-blue bedcover. “He doesn’t see anything in the CT scan that would suggest permanent damage. He’s convinced it’s a matter of time before she wakes up. But you heard him say that only an MRI would confirm his diagnosis. I think we should have it done.”

  “But the fancy machine is in Edmonton,” he said. “Much better she stay here with her own people. The Creator look after her here.”

  “She’d be with you. You could make sure the Creator was watching over her, keeping her safe.”

  He dropped his gaze to the rat root in his hand, then shifted it onto his grandniece. He remained quiet for so long, I began to think he hadn’t heard me.

  I was about to repeat the suggestion when he turned his deeply lined face back to me. “She gonna be okay. Edmonton too far away. She stay here.”

  We shall see, I thought to myself. If there was no improvement in the morning, I would insist that they medevac her.

  I focused my attention back on the still figure lying on the bed. A hollow wisp of her once-vibrant self, she created barely a ripple above the flatness of the bedcover.

  “Come on, Teht’aa, move. Give us a sign that you’re coming back to us. Do it for your dad. He’ll be here tomorrow … I hope.”

  As if on cue, an eyelid fluttered. I waited for another flutter. And it did. “Look, look, she’s moving.”

  “Where?” the old man asked.

  “Her left eyelid. See, there it goes again. Teht’aa, can you hear me? It’s me, Meg.”

  “She doing that lots this afternoon. Her arm twitch too.”

  “Teht’aa, move your eyelid if you can hear me.”

  Both of us leaned over and watched. But this time there was no answering flutter, not even a twitch.

  I tried not to feel disheartened. Eyelid movement, no matter how involuntary, was a step in the right direction.

  I removed my jacket and draped it over the back of the chair. “Uncle Joe, how can you keep your jacket on? Aren’t you hot?”

  “Hot, cold. It make no difference to an old man like me. This special jacket.” He ran his hand over the dark navy nylon fabric. “Shelagh, my son’s wife, give it to me. I don’t want her to think I don’t like it.” He did, though, unzip the fleece-lined windbreaker and shook it open to reveal his heavy red plaid flannel shirt.

  “Are you sure Hans Walther isn’t her boyfriend? He certainly thinks he is.”

  “Crazy guy. Spend too much time on the land.”

  “But your people have lived on the land for eons, and I don’t think they’re crazy, apart from you, that is.”

  “Me an old coot, eh?” He snickered, showing a gap-filled smile. “It’s different for white people. You not use to being all by yourself with only trees, water, and rocks to talk to. You got to have buildings, cellphones, cars, all that fancy stuff.”

  “If that’s the case, I’ll take over Teht’aa’s car and let you walk.”

  He snorted.

  I noticed a scrap of white paper on the floor near the bed’s front wheel. Retrieving it, I recognized it as the business card Hans had given me. It must’ve slipped out of my pocket. It identified him as the president of Walther Aerial Exploration International, with offices in Yellowknife, Canada and Munich, Germany. I assumed this meant he searched for mineral deposits by plane and not by tramping endless miles through the bush.

  “I see that Hans is a pilot.”

  “Yah, he bring Teht’aa to Digadeh when Florence sick. I seen him getting supplies at the Northern. Think he was prospecting nearby.”

  “So he owns a plane.”

  “He was showing it off the time he bring Teht’aa, taking folks up for a ride. Lots of fancy equipment. But it was no big deal. We fly in planes all the time. Only way we get in and out of Digadeh, except in winter when we got the ice road.”

  “You know what this means.”

  “He fly plane? I don’t know.” He shrugged.

  “It punches a hole in his alibi. He told me he was in the bush when Teht’aa was attacked. But with his own plane, he could’ve easily flown into Yellowknife from wherever he was prospecting. Do you think he could’ve done it?”

  “Like I tell you, I don’t like the man, but she never say he beat her.”

  Regardless, this was one piece of information I was going to pass on to Sergeant Ryan. Weakening the case against Frank would weaken the case against Eric.

  “Teht’aa’s popular today.” The grey-haired nurse placed a vase containing a large arrangement of yellow lilies, white carnations, and purple daisies next to Han’s red roses. Curious, I pulled out the card and was surprised to read, Wishing you a speedy recovery. Reggie and Tony.

  “Tony?” I asked Uncle Joe.

  “His wife. Real name Antoinette. She only use it when she talking to bigwigs.”

  “I guess we’re not bigwigs. Why would they send Teht’aa flowers?”

  “Reggie’s her chief. Just making sure she vote for him next time.” He
chuckled.

  “I had a run-in with her on the street this morning. She sure treated me like dirt.”

  “She wanted Reggie to be Grand Chief more than he did. She was real mad at Eric when he won. Said he cheated.”

  “From what I hear, it’s more likely Reggie was the one cheating. Did you know that he has appointed himself acting Grand Chief? Rather quick, don’t you think?”

  “Eric set him to rights. Hey, look at that. Her arm moving.” So were the fingers of the other hand, the one belonging to the broken arm. “Come on, Teht’aa, you can do it. Wake up.”

  The part of her face that wasn’t covered in bandages grimaced as if in pain.

  “Good,” the nurse said, padding up beside me. “She’s starting to feel pain, which means she’s coming out of it. Could you please move to one side?”

  I stood at the bottom of the bed and watched her test the IV needle to ensure it was firmly in place before she replaced the empty IV container.

  “How long has Reggie been Grand Chief of the Tlicho?”

  “About five years. Before that he was chief of Digadeh for many years. Took over from his dad. His granddad was chief before that.”

  “So he essentially inherited the position, even though it’s an elected office.”

  “Folk like to respect tradition. They say his ancestor was one of the great medicine men of the Dene. Reggie wasn’t a bad chief. He got things done, most of the time. I liked his dad better. Had more respect for Tlicho ways.”

  “How did he get to be Grand Chief?”

  “Tlicho got self-government now. Grand Chief very important job. Much responsibility. Need to know much and work good with white people. He got good education. He promise big things and say he know many important people. Lots of people vote for him. They also like the free cigarettes and gas he give out.” He laughed.

  “So he paid for votes.”

  “He didn’t. Mining company did.”

  “Amounts to the same thing, doesn’t it?”

  “Don’t matter if he do a good job.”

  “So he’s done a good job.”