Purple Palette for Murder

by R. J. Harlick

  “There’s that word ‘purple’ again. Did Hans identify the person?”

  “I was, ah … looking for something else when I came across the messages. He was showering at the time. When he saw me on his computer, he freaked. I pretended I was checking my own email, but he didn’t believe me. We ended up in a shouting match. I haven’t seen him since.”

  “I thought he wasn’t your boyfriend.”

  “He’s not. We … ah … just … you know….” She smiled sheepishly. “He’s not bad in bed.”

  “Did you come across Malcolm’s name in your investigation?”

  “No, why do you ask?”

  “He and his father were arguing rather heatedly over mining. Malcolm is very pro-mine. It sounded as if he had a specific project in mind. Maybe it’s the same one.”

  “He’s never mentioned anything to me, but he does work for Nord Diamond, so it could be related to one of their claims. In this case the officials were with an international mining company that has no working mine in the Territories. Although a lot of gold, silver, and diamonds, even tungsten have been dug up over the years, people could make millions with the amount still buried under all that rock.”

  She reached for her water glass on her bedside table with the ease of a patient who was well on the road to recovery. I hoped by the time Eric finally saw her, she would be walking.

  “We need to talk about your father. I think he’s protecting someone. That’s why he insists on pleading guilty. He probably thinks he can handle jail better than they can.”

  “The stupid idiot. Isn’t it just like him. Do you know who it is?”

  “If I did, Eric would already be free. I was hoping you might know.”

  “Well, we’re his only family, and it’s not us. He can be such a bleeding-heart. It could be anyone. Like someone he feels is worth redeeming. Or someone he doesn’t want to see ruin their life any further by going to jail. You know how he is.”

  Didn’t I. It was what I loved about him. But never had his compassion gone so far as to jeopardize all he held dear. “Does anyone come to mind?”

  “No, but I’ll give it plenty of thought.”

  “Could you also do what you can to convince him to change his mind?”

  “I’ll try.”

  “I thought I might do some of my own snooping,” I continued. “His lawyer gave me names of people who might have seen something. I want to fly to Digadeh to talk to them. Maybe they’ll point me in the direction of the real killer.”

  “Be careful. He’s killed once. He won’t hesitate to do it again.”

  “Don’t worry. You know me, I’m not the bravest. I’m also hiring an investigator. But don’t tell your dad. He’d kill me.”

  It took a second for the irony to sink in before we both broke into giggles. We sputtered and gasped like a couple of silly girls until it finally spent itself.

  “Oh, that felt good,” I said, wiping the tears from my cheeks. “I needed it.

  Teht’aa, trying to suppress one last giggle, nodded in agreement.

  “On to more serious things. I want to talk about the purple embroidery. I know you don’t want to, but it seems to be connected to everything that’s happening at the moment. I’ve heard bits and pieces about it from various people. Your uncle even called it a map.”

  “Fuck,” was her only response.

  I persisted. “At this very moment, Gloria is travelling to your grandmother’s camp with the two men you’ve just identified as being involved in some underhanded mining dealings. Both men wanted your family’s purple embroidery enough to steal it. I have no idea what is going on, but I don’t think it’s good. So please tell me what’s so damn important about this embroidery.”

  She glanced over at her roommates. “Okay. But let’s go elsewhere.”

  At that moment, Teht’aa’s neighbour arrived in a wheelchair pushed by an orderly. I claimed the wheelchair and with the aid of the orderly settled Teht’aa into it. Wanting to make some calls, she brought her cellphone, and off we went in search of privacy, as if it were possible in a hospital.

  forty-five

  Teht’aa and I found an empty corner in the cafeteria away from the tables of gossiping nurses and doctors. Figuring hospital coffee would be worse than my own, I bought two teas and a couple of donuts and sat down beside Teht’aa.

  She bit into the donut. “Chocolate. Love it.” She took another bite. “You know that my great-great-grandmother made the embroidery as a reminder of her son’s death.”

  I nodded, sinking my teeth into my own donut.

  “Mamàcho Teht’aa—” She saw my raised eyebrows. “Yeah, I’m named after her. Anyway, Mamàcho Teht’aa wanted it to serve another purpose, too, and she did it through a story. We Tlicho are great storytellers.”

  “Explains your terrific broadcasting skills. It’s in your DNA.”

  She laughed. “Storytelling keeps our traditions and history alive. We even use stories to identify good hunting and fishing locations and the routes taken to reach them.”

  “Like an oral map.”

  “Exactly. When my grandmother gave me my piece of the embroidery, she recounted Mamàcho Teht’aa’s story. It’s in Tlicho and too long to recount now.”

  “I didn’t know you spoke Tlicho.”

  “Not much anymore, but amazingly, I remember every word of the story. Most importantly, not only does the story recount the history of the embroidery, but it’s also an oral map.”

  “The map Uncle Joe was talking about.”

  “Exactly. It describes a trail through various lakes and rivers with identifiable markers, like rock outcrops, types of vegetation, beaches, and so on.”

  “Is the destination an island, like Gloria mentioned?”

  “Yes, with purple flowers.”

  “But both Lucy and Uncle Joe called it Blueberry Island.”

  “Did they use the word Dzièwàdi?”

  “Sounds right.”

  “In our language dzièwà means both blueberry and purple. Mamàcho said it was called Purple Island because of the purple flowers growing on it.”

  “Gloria said they sparkled.”

  “Mamàcho used the Tlicho word that means ‘sparks from a fire.’ A curious way to describe a flower, don’t you think? I’m starting to wonder if the flowers aren’t something else. Rocks can sparkle. Maybe they are purple rocks.”

  Remembering the quartz with the glimmering fragments of gold I once found on an island back home, I said, “You could be right.”

  “It would explain Hans’s interest. Apart from sex, all he’s interested in is geology and making his millions on a major discovery, like gold.”

  “Amethysts are the only purple rocks I know of, but I don’t think their value would be great enough to generate millions, unlike gold or diamonds. Maybe these sparkly purple flowers are diamonds. But have you ever heard of purple diamonds?”

  “Nope. The diamonds that are currently mined in the Territories are known for their pure white clarity.” She paused to sip her tea. “Did Gloria tell you how she learned about the embroidery?”

  “Lucy told her.”

  “She wasn’t supposed to. Mamàcho made us vow never to tell anyone. Threatened us with the Dene equivalent of the boogeyman.”

  “Why would your grandmother entrust Lucy with such a secret and not Gloria? The Lucy I met couldn’t even remember what day it was, let alone a lengthy story.”

  “Gloria was too young. When Lucy was younger, she had a very good memory. She could remember conversations word for word. It didn’t matter if the words were in Tlicho or English. Sadly, the booze pretty much destroyed her memory.”

  “Besides you, Lucy, and Frank, who else has a piece? I think there are four of them.”

  “Frank wasn’t supposed to have it. The embroidery and its story belong t
o the Bluegoose women. He should’ve given it back to Mamàcho after he found it in Aunt Connie’s belongings. Aunt Connie’s piece is identified by the red bird. I have my mother’s piece, the one with the yellow bird, and Lucy her mother’s, which has the blue bird.”

  “I thought the red one was yours. That was the piece you gave your father.”

  “No, it was Frank’s. I took it from him when he came to me wanting to know more. Gloria had told him some of the story, but he knew there was more to it, particularly the part about Dzièwàdi. He also wanted my piece. I started to worry he was going to do something with them, so I told him he would be betraying our family if he did. I also invoked the anger of Mamàcho, a key figure in his life, as she has been for all of us. I thought I was getting to him until he took off in a snit. But by then I’d already snuck his out of his pocket.” She chuckled.

  “What did he do when he found out?”

  “Left me some angry messages. I was afraid he’d go after Lucy. That’s why I was in the alley the night of the attack. I was going to ask her to give me hers for safekeeping.”

  “Good, your memory’s coming back.”

  “Only parts. I still don’t remember who attacked me.”

  “It sounds like it was Frank after all?”

  “I don’t know. But wait, I haven’t told you about my purse. Someone turned it in. When Sergeant Ryan was here yesterday, she returned it to me. Amazingly, my phone was still inside, along with my wallet. Only the cash was missing. When I checked for messages, I found one from Frank. Here, listen to it.”

  She withdrew her iPhone from her sweater pocket and clicked on the message.

  “Hi, Teht’aa. It’s Frank.” His voice was deeper than I expected. “I’m sorry I got mad at you. You’ve got a point about family, so I wanted to let you know that I’m not going through with it.”

  “When did he leave it?”

  “The day before he was killed.”

  “You don’t know what the ‘it’ is?”

  “Like I told El, he only talked about the embroidery.”

  “El?”

  “Sergeant Ryan. We jog together.”

  “Do you think he guessed that the sparkling purple flowers could be more than simple flowers?”

  “It depends on how much Gloria told him.”

  “Do you think she knows everything?”

  “If she does, I worry that Reggie and Hans will use her to take them to the island. If it does turn out to be a big diamond deposit, she could be in real trouble. A big find is something most prospectors want to keep quiet until the claim is fully staked and registered.”

  “Don’t forget about Florence. They could use her too.”

  “Oh God, I’ve got to call her.” She fumbled for her phone.

  “You can’t reach her. She’s at the summer camp. Uncle Joe’s convinced that’s where Reggie and the others are also headed.”

  “Oh, hell. You’ve got to warn them.”

  She glanced at the time on her phone. “You have to leave now to catch the flight.”

  I started to wheel her out of the café. “Stop,” she cried out. “There’s no time. I’ll get myself back to the room.”

  “Okay, but call your friend El first. You should have better success convincing her to send someone to Florence’s camp than I did.”

  After confirming that neither Malcolm nor his father were home, I drove straight to the airport. I had fifteen minutes before the Digadeh flight left.

  forty-six

  “The boarding gate is closed,” the agent said when I arrived gasping at the check-in counter. Through a nearby window, I could see a small turboprop plane taxiing toward the runway. With a sinking feeling, I watched it lift off into the deep blue and turn north toward Digadeh.

  Citing privacy regulations, the agent refused to acknowledge that Uncle Joe and his son were on the passenger list. But a middle-aged woman checking in for her own flight overheard my shrill demand. She confirmed that he had boarded the plane with his son. Thank goodness for small towns, where everyone knows everyone.

  I’d already left three messages on Uncle Joe’s voicemail. It was pointless to leave another, particularly when he was in the air. Yesterday the phone service was down in Digadeh. Would I trust two people’s lives on it working today? No. I had no choice but to fly to Digadeh.

  Finding another flight proved a bigger hurdle. The next scheduled flight wasn’t until tomorrow, same time, same gate. But tomorrow was too late. Besides, tomorrow was the day Eric would be released, and I needed and wanted to be with him.

  The woman offered the name of a couple of charter services. When I inquired on my cell, the fee was astronomical, considerably more than I wanted to pay. But I decided it would be worth it if it saved two lives. While the one airline had a plane available this evening, the other wouldn’t have one free until tomorrow morning. I nixed the next-day option and kept the evening one open in case I couldn’t find another way to Digadeh.

  An elderly man wearing an embroidered moosehide vest and an Oilers baseball cap suggested I could travel the way they did in the old days, by canoe. But that was a three-week trip, if the winds on the lakes behaved.

  Driving was out. There were no roads. Flying was the only option, but that looked as if it wasn’t going to happen in time to be of any help to Gloria or Florence.

  Maybe I should stay put, which would likely please Uncle Joe. He could’ve mentioned the trip over breakfast but he hadn’t. He had also tried to put me off by pretending he was no longer concerned about the safety of his grandniece. Yet as far as I knew, he had only one reason for rushing off to Digadeh, and that was to save Gloria. Keeping the trip a secret made little sense, unless he wanted it to remain within the family.

  I didn’t know why I felt compelled to help Gloria. She was no relation to me. While I liked her feisty spirit, I barely knew her. Yet with her sister murdered, her mother dead, and her father a man no one mentioned, she seemed such a lonely soul, with only her cousin and her great-uncle looking out for her. I discounted Malcolm. Judging by the disparaging remarks made at dinner, he and his family had little respect for a woman who hadn’t followed the straight and narrow path they’d taken.

  My purse suddenly vibrated with the insistent drumming of Eric’s phone.

  “Fuck, you’re still in Yellowknife,” was Teht’aa’s greeting.

  “I missed the flight, but Uncle Joe and Malcolm caught it.”

  “Double fuck. You have to find a way to get to Digadeh and warn Uncle Joe. I’ve just learned that Malcolm is in on it.”

  “In on what?”

  “He’s working with Reggie and Hans.”

  Now it was my turn to curse.

  “He told Reggie about the embroidery. I just finished talking to Shelagh. She asked me what I knew about the purple flowers, because Malcolm had brought them up with her. Said they were going to make them rich.”

  “It still doesn’t mean that he has joined forces with Reggie and Hans.”

  “Shelagh said the flowers had to do with some deal Malcolm was involved in with Reggie. She wanted to know why they were so important. You have to get to Digadeh as fast as you can.”

  “I found a plane I could charter, but it’s not available until tonight.”

  “Too late. See if there are other flights going there today. I’ll call a couple of airlines I know that deliver supplies and get back to you.”

  “Before you hang up, did you have any success with Sergeant Ryan?”

  “Couldn’t reach her. She’s off on a call somewhere. Damn, I wish I could leave this goddamn hospital.”

  She hung up without a goodbye.

  I walked over to the security clearance line to the woman who’d been so helpful. “You wouldn’t happen to know if there are other flights going to Digadeh today? Like those that deliver supplies or mail
.”

  “Most times the mail and supplies go in the same plane as the passengers,” she replied. “I suppose one of the mining companies could be sending a plane up there. But I don’t know how you find out about them. Sorry.” She glanced around at the other passengers waiting in line. “Anyone else know?

  Most shook their heads, but a young man clothed in Gore-Tex with a backpack propped against his knee spoke up. “You might be able to hitch a ride with Plummers.”

  I followed up with the arctic lodge company and bingo, I lucked out. They had a flight leaving for their fishing camp on Great Bear Lake and would be making a stop in Digadeh to pick up an employee. The only catch was I had ten minutes to get to their hangar, or the plane would leave without me. I had to pay them double the scheduled flight amount.

  With the cellphone clutched to my ear, I gave her my credit card information while I raced out of the terminal to the parking lot. I braked to a halt in front of the hangar. One of the pilots was waiting at the door as I scrambled up the rickety metal stairs and into the small plane. With little more than a perfunctory nod, he closed and locked it before returning to the cockpit. I squeezed past the five male passengers dressed in rugged outdoor wear to the only empty seat. Before I had completely buckled myself in, the plane was rumbling down the runway.

  I was on my way, not knowing what awaited me.

  forty-seven

  We flew over a jigsaw puzzle of equal parts water and bare rock broken up by intermittent stretches of dark-green forest and sand. Unlike the canoe routes to the south, which followed identifiable water courses, the maze of rivers and lakes below offered no discernable route. Yet the Dene had travelled these bewildering waters for thousands of years without benefit of GPS or printed maps. But as I had discovered, they had their oral maps. I realized a guide was imperative if I were to venture out on my own to Florence’s camp.