“Who is it? Who are you trying to protect?”
“Meg, please don’t.” His eyes pleaded. “If you keep at it, I’m going to ask the guard to return me to my cell.”
I took a deep breath and willed myself to calm down. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. But you’re the most important person in my life, and I can’t bear to see you suffer for something you didn’t do.”
His only answer was to raise my hands to his lips, kiss them, and whisper, “I love you.”
But if he thought I was going to lie down and accept his guilty plea, he had learned nothing about me over the past seven years. No way was I going to stop trying to find the person who killed Frank.
It was my turn to lean back into the chair. “I’m trying to settle in my own mind some of the events surrounding Frank’s death. Sally has told me pretty much everything that you told her, but I still have some questions. May I ask them?”
“I suppose.”
“It’s about the phone call you received identifying Frank as the man who assaulted Teht’aa. I’m curious about who it was.”
He sighed. “I don’t know.”
“You didn’t ask?”
“They left a message on my voicemail. And no, I didn’t recognize the voice. It sounded like a male, but I’m not entirely certain. There was too much background noise.”
“An anonymous call. Sounds suspicious to me. Your phone didn’t identify the caller?”
“Not a name, just a phone number, one I didn’t recognize. But to tell you the truth, I didn’t care. I was so angry at the damage that had been done to Teht’aa, I wasn’t thinking straight.”
“Did the police trace the call?”
“My cell is missing. I know I took it to Digadeh, but according to Derrick, it wasn’t on me when I was found.”
“What did the message say?”
“It was short. Frank assaulted Teht’aa and had fled to Digadeh. That’s how I knew where to find him. But enough, let’s talk about Jid.”
He reached across the table for my hands. This time I gripped them firmly.
“He’s incorrigible, isn’t he?” Eric said, chuckling after I recounted the episode with the fawn. “That’s what I love about the boy. It will be wonderful to finally bring him officially into our small family. I don’t imagine you’ve heard anything more on the adoption.”
“No. But have you thought about the impact a guilty plea could have on our chances? A convicted murderer might not be the kind of father the authorities have in mind.”
His shoulders slumped. “No, I hadn’t.”
“Not only will you hurt us, but you’ll also hurt Jid. You’ll shatter him, you know? You’re his idol. He believes totally in you. He’s had a difficult enough time trying to come to terms with the tragedy of his real father without having to deal with your betrayal.”
“Please, don’t say anymore,” he whispered. “I know you’re right. Forgive me.”
I moved my chair beside his, wrapped my arm around his shoulders, and held him tightly. “No matter what happens, I will always love you, Eric. But, please, think your decision through very carefully.”
“I will.”
With renewed hope, I kissed him gently on the cheek and leaned my head against his. And so we sat until I noticed Derrick glancing at his watch. Our time was coming to a close, and there was one more very important topic I needed to discuss.
“Eric, what can you tell me about the purple embroidery I found in your hotel room?”
He eyed me warily. “You’d better ask Teht’aa about it.”
“I was hoping you could tell me something about it. I think it could be connected to the attacks on her cousins and possibly her.”
“Are you talking about Gloria and her sister?”
“Yes.”
He sat up. “Don’t tell me they’re dead.”
“Unfortunately, Lucy is, but not Gloria. Why would you think they were dead?”
“Their lifestyles. Plain and simple. Although Teht’aa had little success in trying to get Lucy to change, she felt she was having marginal success with Gloria. Was Gloria badly hurt?”
“Fortunately not. Despite being attacked with the stone carving I gave Teht’aa, she got away with only a bump on her head.”
“I’m sorry to hear about her sister. They’ve both had a tough life, through no fault of their own.” He sighed. “I’m so sick of the damage caused by these fucking residential schools. How many more generations are going to suffer because of the blind arrogance of the fucking whites?”
He spat these last words out with such force, I thought he was going to turn his anger on me. Instead, he unclasped our hands and turned away from me.
Though our love had overcome our differences, they would occasionally raise their ugly head. But never before had I felt such venom against my people. Mind you, it wasn’t as if we didn’t deserve it.
I held my hands open on the table, ready to receive his, and waited. Though his eyes were staring out the window, I sensed they were directed at nothing other than his own internal turmoil.
The sound of a chair scraping along the floor brought him back to me. “I’m so sorry, Meg.” He reached for my hands. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“It’s me that should be saying sorry.” As if I could simply apologize for all the wrongs my people had done to his.
“Tell me, have you met Uncle Joe yet?”
“We’ve become the best of buddies. He’s even taken me to his favourite noodle place.”
“Know it well. You have definitely made it. He doesn’t share noodles with just anybody, you know.” His face relaxed as he broke into his familiar chuckle, which warmed my heart.
“I also met his son and family.”
“Good guy, Malcolm, but I gather the two of them have had their differences lately. Something to do with a mining venture, which Malcolm is for and Uncle Joe against.”
“They seemed on good terms last night.”
“Maybe they’ve sorted it out. But when I talked to Uncle Joe a couple of months ago, he was hopping mad at his son. He refused to go into details other than to say Malcolm was set on destroying traditional lands, lands that are particularly sacred to his family. It was in some way tied into this purple flower embroidery, which Uncle Joe referred to as dzièwà.”
“The same word Teht’aa and Lucy used. I gather it means blueberry. Did he say how it was connected?”
“He didn’t know. Apparently, only Bluegoose women know the story behind the embroidery. But he did say that his sister Florence admitted it was a map.”
“A map? To what?”
“Dzièwàdi.”
“Blueberry Island. Gloria told me that the embroidery was made in memory of a young boy who died on an island covered in blueberries. I imagine it’s the same island. But I’ve no idea how a design of flowers could be used as a map.”
“He didn’t know either.”
“Who gave you the embroidery?” I asked.
“Teht’aa, last week, a few days before the attack. She wanted me to keep it safe. Said she’d be giving me other pieces, but … well, you know….”
“I know of at least three pieces. Do you know if there are others?”
“She never said. I’m not sure how pertinent this is, but Reggie Mantla asked me about the embroidery a couple of months ago.”
“He’s taken over your job, you know.”
“Figures. He did all he could to win the election, including buying votes, but that’s a story for another day.”
I thought of the video Josh had tried to blackmail me with and decided to leave it for another day too.
“What did Reggie want to know?”
“If Teht’aa had such a piece. He took me completely by surprise. I thought no one but members of her family knew
about it.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Nothing, of course.
“Time’s up,” the guard announced, striding toward us, rattling his keys against his leg.
Eric’s eyes glazed over. His face hardened. The spark that was my Eric vanished. He pushed himself away from the table.
The spark returned as we kissed with a passion I hadn’t felt in a long time. But then it was gone.
I gave him one last hug and whispered in his ear. “Don’t give up. I’ll find a way.”
Hope flashed through his eyes before he turned away and walked toward the door with the prison guard on his heels.
Thirty-eight
I waited until Derrick and I passed through the final door of the prison before tackling him about the missing phone.
“Do you know if the police have found Eric’s cell?”
“They haven’t said. Why do you ask?”
“We need to know who called Eric about Frank.”
“The police don’t need the phone. It’s a simple matter of requesting the caller information from the service provider. But they need a warrant.” He started walking toward the parking lot. “I’ve got to run.”
“Do you know if they’ve asked for one?” I stuck close beside him.
“I imagine they have, since they’ll want a statement from the caller to solidify their case against Eric. Like I’ve been telling you, it is an open-and-shut case. Pleading guilty to manslaughter is his only option. Sally thinks so too.”
“How do you explain the missing phone?”
“He misplaced it.”
“What if it was stolen?”
“I’ve already told you the police don’t need the phone.”
“Maybe the guy didn’t know that, like me. So he stole the phone to keep the cops from identifying him. He could’ve grabbed it when Eric was lying unconscious beside the body.”
“So?”
“Maybe the guy was smart enough not to use his own phone.”
“That’s for the police to establish.”
“What kind of a defence lawyer are you?” I felt like I was ramming my head against a brick wall. “I thought you were supposed to find the holes in the case against your client and look for the real culprit, like Perry Mason.”
“It’s Sally’s call, and she hasn’t suggested hiring a private investigator.” He lengthened his stride as if trying to put distance between us, but I kept up.
“Maybe you should. There is another reason why this guy wouldn’t want the cops having the phone. Did you know that Eric never talked to him directly? Rather, the message was left on his voicemail. Another way to identify the caller and another good reason for stealing it.”
He stopped so suddenly that I almost collided with him. “Where are you going with this?”
“I think Eric was set up. Someone lured him to Digadeh. And that someone is likely the guy who killed Frank and framed Eric for it.”
“The evidence doesn’t point in this direction.”
“Of course it does, starting with the anonymous call. And don’t forget Eric’s convenient memory loss. Have you discovered its cause yet?”
“He’s being taken to the hospital tomorrow for a more thorough examination.”
“Are they going to check for drugs, like those date-rape drugs that make the victim forget?”
“Mrs. Odjik, please give us some credit. We’ve asked that an extensive blood analysis be done. But keep in mind, many of these so called date-rape drugs disappear from the bloodstream within hours. You should also know that he only agreed to do this at Sally’s insistence. She threatened to withdraw from the case if he didn’t.”
“Good for her.”
“You have to keep in mind that he is our client, and when a client doesn’t want us to establish a defence, there isn’t much we can do.”
“What if I become your client? After all, it’s my money that’s paying your bills.”
“That may be, but he is nonetheless our client.” He paused. “If you really are serious in helping your husband’s defence, there is one avenue you could pursue.”
“Tell me.”
“Hire a private investigator yourself. If he finds anything of value, you might be able to convince your husband that there is enough evidence to mount a defence.” He opened the door to his car, which I realized was also a BMW, but a much larger SUV. Business must be good.
“They actually exist in Yellowknife?”
“Not the kind of investigator you need. Sally can refer you to the firm she uses for her Vancouver cases.”
“Maybe he’ll discover who Eric is trying to protect.”
“Protect? What do you mean?”
“I think Eric knows who killed Frank, but for some reason he doesn’t want them getting caught. I think it’s behind his guilty plea.”
He threw his briefcase onto the passenger seat. “Interesting that you bring this up. Sally said the same thing to me. Do you have any idea who it could be?”
“If I did, I wouldn’t be standing here talking to you. I’d be giving the name to Sergeant Ryan. Does Sally plan to do anything about it?”
“Nothing without her client’s consent. I do have one issue with your theory. If your husband was framed by the person who killed Frank, why would he want to protect them, if Frank is the man who assaulted his daughter?”
“Maybe Frank didn’t do it.”
“Doesn’t matter. It wouldn’t help his case. What is important is his mental state at the time of the murder. And as the police can prove, he believed Frank was the perpetrator.”
“By the way, who found Eric?”
“I believe a neighbour of Frank’s.”
“Have you talked to them? Maybe they saw something that could help Eric.”
“Like I keep telling you, our hands are tied.” He paused while he watched a woman struggle to climb out of her car after wedging it into too narrow a parking space. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I will. Neither Sally nor I believe he’s guilty.”
Thank God.
“We have tried to talk him out of this guilty plea, but he won’t budge. If you hire an investigator, we’ll provide you with the information you need, like the name of this witness. But you need to act quickly. We intend to start discussions with the Crown next week about having the charge reduced to manslaughter. After that it is a matter of scheduling a court appearance to register his plea.”
“Okay. I’ll call Sally now.”
“I’ll text you the name of the witness when I get back to my office.” He climbed into the driver seat. “Sorry to cut this short, but I’m already late. I wish you luck.”
Feeling considerably more upbeat, I was leaving a voice message for Sally for the name of the investigator by the time Derrick’s car left the parking lot.
Thirty-nine
After trying unsuccessfully to find a room at Eric’s hotel, I tried three others without success. Apparently a conference had snapped up all the rooms at the better hotels. When the clerk at the last one suggested the Gold Range Motel would likely have availability, I decided it was time to take Uncle Joe up on his offer.
With an invitation for dinner thrown in, I arrived to find Malcolm outside on the spacious deck barbequing moose steaks in the brightness of a northern evening. Uncle Joe was in the kitchen heating up a vegetable concoction — his words, not mine — that Shelagh had made before she went off to her meeting. The three kids still living at home had likewise dispersed, one to a friend’s house and the other two to an indoor soccer game. My conversation skills wouldn’t be in demand after all.
Under Uncle Joe’s watchful eye, I fried up the bannock and placed it on the table, along with the vegetable concoction and three super-large baked potatoes.
“Never like baked potatoes until your husband show me spec
ial secret.” The old man smacked his lips. “Sour cream. Lots of it.” He placed a bowl brimming with the thick white cream next to the potatoes.
Between mouthfuls of food, the two men yakked about whatever father and son yak about. I wasn’t listening. Instead I focused on trying to identify people for whom Eric would sacrifice three years of his life and his reputation. The first person who came to mind was his daughter. But she was in the hospital close to death when Frank was killed a few hundred kilometres away.
Raised voices brought Uncle Joe into my ruminations. I could see Eric making the same sacrifice for the kind-hearted gentleman sitting across from me, who at the moment was riled enough to jab his finger into his son’s chest as he endeavoured to make a point. He had brought a lost young man under his wing and steered him along a course that the no-longer-young man was about to ruin. Would Eric do all he could to protect his mentor, who’d been more of a father than his adopted one had ever been? Yes, he would.
But Uncle Joe had been in Yellowknife, staying in this very house, at the time of the killing. Even if he had been in Digadeh and had for some reason killed his nephew, I doubt Uncle Joe would let Eric destroy his own life in order to protect him, an old man at the end of his.
I searched for other possibilities and came up empty except for Jid, and, I liked to think, me, and for obvious reasons we were out of the running.
Maybe I was wrong in thinking Eric wanted to keep the real killer from being caught. But what other reason would he have for pleading guilty to a crime he didn’t commit?
I perked up at the word diamonds and turned my attention to the argument unfolding across the table from me.
“I no let you do it.” The old man jabbed his son again.
“It’s time to move out of the ice age, old man, and into this century.”
This prompted another angry jab, this time harder. “You no ‘old man’ me. I do more in my life than you ever will.”
“You need to get with the program. This mine will bring more money than our people have ever seen.”
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