Purple Palette for Murder

by R. J. Harlick

  “Do you have a headache?”

  “Nope.” But the rigid way she held her head made me suspect that it was hurting.

  “How about vomiting?”

  She grimaced.

  I took that for a no, which was a good sign.

  Though I didn’t like the damage she’d done to my husband, I didn’t want her to die. “You should lie down. It will help the healing process.”

  “I had a good sleep after we got here. Feel better now.”

  The little girl ran up to her mother to show her a sparkling white stone. Gloria gently kissed her on the forehead and admired the stone.

  “You have a lovely daughter.”

  “Thanks. I don’t see her much. It’s good to be here.” She brushed wayward curls from her daughter’s eyes. Her child’s light-brown hair was a sharp contrast to her own inky blackness.

  “Is this why you left the hospital? To see your daughter?”

  She appeared startled, then she murmured, “Yah. That’s right, eh, Little Bird?”

  “Uncle Joe calls her his butterfly.”

  The old man snickered beside me.

  “Yah, she’s that. Never keeps still, eh, Little Bird?” The child, suddenly quiet from the unlooked-for attention, settled into her mother’s lap and cast her shy grey eyes back at me. Gloria smoothed her hair and kissed the top of her head.

  Watching them, I could understand Eric’s reason for wanting to keep this young mother out of jail. It wouldn’t be one life destroyed, but two. It left me in a difficult quandary: accept Eric’s decision or get her to admit she killed Frank. But it might not be such a difficult choice. If Gloria killed the man because of his abuse, she could plead self-defence and spend no time in jail. Not so with Eric.

  I was about to query her on her relationship with Frank when a man I’d completely forgotten about shambled toward the fire.

  “Hello, Mrs. Odjik, I didn’t know you were coming.” Father Harris groaned as he lowered himself into the other lawn chair. “These old bones sure can’t take it anymore. Used to be I could travel for days in a canoe without feeling an ache.”

  I watched the reaction of Uncle Joe and his grandniece to the priest’s arrival. Uncle Joe clamped his lips shut and glared, much the way he had done at the hospital. Gloria pulled her child closer, while pushing herself with her feet farther away from the man, surprising considering they’d travelled in close quarters for more than a day.

  He appeared unfazed by their contempt.

  “I’m surprised, Father Harris, to find you here, sharing the fire with people who don’t hold you in much regard.”

  “I was invited.”

  “By whom?”

  “Florence, a lady whom I highly respect. Do you know that nearly fifty years ago I sat in front of this same fire and recorded the births of her children. I later came to know them at Saint Anne’s. As you know, I look out for her grandchildren.” He paused to flick a piece of ash from his jacket sleeve. “I’m sorry about Lucy. One of God’s special people.”

  “Why did Florence invite you?”

  “You will have to ask the lady yourself.”

  His smugness only made me want to delve deeper.

  “As you know, the Truth and Reconciliation Commission has finally revealed the terrible abuse, much of it sexual, that was inflicted on native children at the various residential schools. I know that not all the teachers were involved, but I am wondering about you?”

  I sensed Uncle Joe’s sudden alertness and saw Gloria sit up straighter.

  “These good people know that since retiring I have been trying to atone for the terrible things done at Saint Anne’s. I look out for my students and the others who have gone astray. It is God’s calling.”

  “Did you teach Florence’s three girls?”

  “Not—” He stopped talking, then continued. “I taught her children, as I did other Tlicho children.”

  “Did you abuse them?”

  He jerked his head back as if I’d punched him, which I was sorely tempted to do.

  Gloria answered for him, “You hurt my Mamà. When I was little Mamà would have nightmares. She’d wake up screaming, ‘Don’t, please don’t.’ My friend’s mother had the same bad dreams. She said it was because the priest had hurt her mother at school.”

  “I’m so sorry, Gloria, for everything that my church has done to your people. We meant well. We thought we were saving you for Christ.”

  “Shut up, you stupid old man,” Uncle Joe growled. “Always same excuse. Tell her. Did you destroy her mother?”

  The two men stared at each other across the flames, one with hate in his eyes, the other imploring.

  Father Harris dropped his gaze. “Such pretty little girls. Their dancing skirts, flying braids. So pure and innocent….” His voice faded into nothing.

  fifty-five

  I waited for the shouts and accusations. Instead the old man and his grandniece remained silent. Tears trickled down Gloria’s cheeks as she hugged her daughter closer. Even rock-solid Uncle Joe was brushing tears from his eyes, almost as if he were reliving his own school memories.

  Behind him stood Reggie, his rifle gripped tightly at his side.

  I could feel the hatred pouring out of him. Of course. He would’ve gone to Saint Anne’s too. He raised the gun and with his finger on the trigger pointed it straight at the priest. Father Harris raised his head. He made no attempt to duck or back out of the way. He merely stared back at his former pupil and waited.

  But it was not to be.

  After several tense minutes, Reggie lowered the rifle.

  “Not worth it,” he muttered. Turning his back on his abuser, he walked away from the fire.

  Uncle Joe hobbled after him. Reggie stopped short of the trees. The old man placed a hand on his shoulder. The younger man stared silently into the woods before turning around and gripping the old man in a tight hug. I wasn’t certain who was comforting whom. Likely they were both consoling each other.

  “Dear God, forgive me …” mumbled Father Harris.

  He pushed himself out of the chair and limped away. Gloria spat at his retreating back as he disappeared behind the tent.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “Yah. I always knew he abused my mother. She used to say she was worthless shit, not good for nothing. I guess that’s why she drank. It killed her, you know. Grandma brought me up, just like she’s doing with Anita.” She ruffled her daughter’s hair. “Maybe I should move back to Digadeh. Little Bird, you want Mummy to come live with you and Mamàcho?”

  Anita nodded vigorously. “We play with Bèbi.” She held up her doll, a soft Raggedy Ann kind of doll made from moosehide and wearing traditional Dene clothing that looked as if it had been treasured by more than one owner. “Mamàcho showed me finger pull and snowsnake. We play, okay?”

  “You bet.” Gloria tickled her daughter and soon had her giggling.

  Then she looked up at me. “I couldn’t do it. It scares me. I don’t know how to be a mother.”

  Such sad lonely words. “Most new mothers feel the same way. Besides, you’ll have your grandmother to help you.”

  “Yah, I guess.”

  I could see she was already backing away from the idea.

  “Uncle Joe told me about Frank. Is Anita his child?”

  “Nope.”

  “I gather Frank used to beat you.”

  “Yah. Happens a lot around here.”

  “Did he hurt you recently?”

  “Whaddya mean?”

  “Someone saw you leaving the place where Frank was killed. Did he—”

  “Who?” she cut in.

  “I’d rather not say. I’m wondering if Frank hurt you that day.”

  “Why would he? We didn’t live together no more.”

  She rubbed he
r arm where I’d seen her rubbing it before. It reminded me of the rubbing I would do whenever I thought of my ex-husband, on the exact spot where my arm broke when he threw me against the kitchen counter.

  “Maybe for old time’s sake,” I said.

  She firmed her lips.

  “You know you can plead self-defence.”

  She scowled. “Hunh?”

  Without another word, she grabbed her daughter’s hand and strode off in the opposite direction to the one the priest had taken, leaving me discouraged. At least she hadn’t denied leaving the crime scene, but she was far from admitting she’d killed her one-time lover. I hoped she would reconsider once she digested the import of a self-defence plea. Surely when she realized she would be acquitted, she wouldn’t let Eric go to jail.

  Everyone had scattered. Through the shimmering heat of the fire, I could see the priest standing on a rocky knoll at the edge of the point with the wind buffeting his clothes. He faced outward, away from the camp and his accusers. I wondered what he would do now, for I suspected this was the first time anyone had confronted him about his abuse.

  Beyond the motionless figure, I could see the smoke billowing over the hills at the end of the lake. It looked no worse than when I had first seen it. Since no one in the camp seemed worried by it, I wasn’t either.

  In her rush to escape, Gloria had sped through the trees behind the tents before veering down the slope to where her grandmother was fishing. Out of the corner of my eye, I’d seen Reggie break free of Uncle Joe and disappear into the woods. Since Hans wasn’t within sight, I assumed they were together. Malcolm had joined his father with a consoling pat, and together they’d wandered down the hill to the boats. I was alone.

  My dried socks felt snuggly warm as I pulled them over my feet. I shifted my still-damp shoes to a sunnier spot, careful to keep them within heating distance of the fire. I stretched out on the ground in the warmth of the noonday sun and closed my eyes.

  A voice jerked me awake.

  “What are we going to do about the old woman?” came Hans’s guttural tone.

  “Don’t talk about her that way,” Reggie replied. “She’s a respected elder.”

  It sounded like their voices were coming from the other side of the tents.

  “How long is it going to take to get her to tell us? I don’t have all day. I have a business to run.”

  “You’re on Tlicho time now. It’ll happen when it happens.”

  “You’re sure she’s going to tell us where the diamonds are?”

  “Shut up! The trees have ears.”

  I froze.

  “Remember, we don’t know if they really are diamonds.” He dropped his voice so low, I barely heard the last word.

  “Are you changing your mind? We have a partnership for only one reason, to find these fucking diamonds.”

  “Shshhhh…. Remember, Frank wasn’t certain. He just suspected they were from the things Gloria said.”

  “You realize if it really is a purple diamond deposit, we could make millions.”

  “Shshhhh…. I know, I know. Come on, let’s get Florence. She’s caught enough fish for today.”

  I continued lying in stunned silence, barely daring to breathe while I listened to their retreating footsteps.

  So Teht’aa and I had been on the right track. Purple diamonds really did exist.

  I waited a good five minutes after hearing the last rustle before standing up.

  I had to warn Uncle Joe.

  fifty-six

  I found Uncle Joe resting against the bow of his boat. His son stood a short distance away at the edge of the water. Both were silently watching the billowing clouds of smoke. A gust of wind brought its warning smell.

  “Do you think the fire will reach us?” I asked.

  “Hard to say,” Malcolm replied. “It’s a good five or six kilometres away, but with this strong north wind, it could quickly move our way.”

  “Thank goodness our return trip is in the opposite direction.”

  I remembered the blistering heat of another forest fire and knew I didn’t want to race through this one.

  “Okay, guys, no more pretending you don’t know. It’s time you told me about the purple diamonds.” I braced myself for the denials.

  Malcolm wheeled around to face me. “How did you find out?”

  “I overheard Hans and Reggie talking. Besides, Teht’aa and I had already guessed. I want to know how involved you are with Hans and Reggie.”

  Malcolm looked over at his father, who nodded. “Tell her. She family.”

  “Okay.” Malcolm walked over to the boat and leaned against it beside his father. “The diamonds have to do with a story that has passed down through the Bluegoose women.”

  “I know. Teht’aa told me.”

  “That surprises me. But I guess she thought the time for secrecy was over. Anyway, a few months ago Dad caught wind of something going on when Frank starting asking him questions about the purple flowers. Like me, he wasn’t supposed to know anything about them.”

  “Yeah,” Uncle Joe chimed in. “I only find out about the purple flowers when I ask Florence. She say they are Bluegoose secret for women only. Men get greedy and kill people for them.”

  “Did she know they were diamonds?”

  A strong gust blew the cap off his head, but he ignored it. “She only know they valuable. She tell me story about Mamàcho Teht’aa. She grandmother of Florence and me. She found the island with the purple flowers, Dzièwàdi.”

  “I know.”

  “When Mamàcho Teht’aa leave Dzièwàdi, she took some purple flowers. Her husband, my babàcho, took them to the Hudson’s Bay Company trading post in Fort Rae. The trader got real excited. Wanted to know where they come from. But Babàcho ran away. The trader sent men after them. Babàcho and his brother got killed. But Mamàcho Teht’aa escape with our mother. Her little boy died at Dzièwàdi. She realized flowers were valuable. Something men want and kill for. But she thought they might someday be important to Bluegoose family, so she made embroidery to remember them and to use like a map to find them.”

  Malcolm took over. “After both Frank and Reggie started asking about them, Dad wanted me to see what they were up to. That’s when I learned about the possibility of a purple diamond deposit. I inserted myself into their partnership and have been working with them since.”

  “I’m surprised by the secrecy. Wouldn’t a deposit this valuable bring a lot of money to the Tlicho?”

  “Dzièwàdi a sacred place,” Uncle Joe answered. “Little boy buried there. We don’t disturb where our people buried. It Tlicho tradition.”

  “Now Dad, let’s not go there again.” Malcolm couldn’t hide the exasperation in his voice. Turning to me, he said, “We’ve been keeping it secret because Hans and Reggie are playing it that way. I want to see how far Reggie will take this. We suspect he’s more interested in filling his own pockets than those of his people.”

  “But he’s your grand chief.”

  “He told me he intends to resign. He even had the nerve to ask if I wanted to take over from him.” He shook his head. “He now spends more time in Yellowknife than Digadeh, probably as a way of cutting his ties to the community.”

  “I saw his fancy new house.”

  “Exactly. There’s another reason for keeping this quiet. We weren’t certain if the island lay within the Tlicho boundaries agreed upon during the self-government negotiations. The Tlicho would have no rights to a share of the mining income beyond these borders, even though much of this land is also considered traditional. It’s what Reggie is hoping for.”

  “What about Hans? How did he get involved?”

  “After Frank told him about the diamonds, Reggie approached Hans to see if he could find the deposit with his aeronautical exploration equipment. Hans has ties to our community, so
I imagine Reggie thought he could be trusted.”

  “I gather he has a child living at Digadeh.”

  Uncle Joe, who’d been focusing on the smoke, shifted his eyes back to me but remained silent.

  “That’s right,” Malcolm answered. “But the territory is so large that despite many months of searching, Hans still hasn’t located it. After Frank told them that the embroidery was a map, they figured by putting the pieces back together they would find the diamonds.”

  “Hence the thefts. Do you know if they have located the fourth piece?”

  “They think Florence has it. I know they have the two stolen pieces because Hans showed them to me before you guys arrived. I brought Lucy’s piece with me, the one you left on the kitchen table, but I’ve kept that from them.”

  “Sorry, I forgot all about it. Do you think they know about the story?”

  “I’m not sure what they know. They keep saying Florence will tell them where the diamonds are.”

  “Will she?”

  “No,” Uncle Joe bellowed.

  “But you suspect they’ll force her.”

  “Those guys will do anything to get at those diamonds. I’m hoping Dad can talk some sense into them.”

  “Greedy buggers,” Uncle Joe said, taking me by surprise. This was the first time I’d heard him swear. “I no let them hurt my sister.”

  “Teht’aa told me something interesting about Frank. The day before he died, he left a message on her cell saying that he had told the guys he was no longer in. I bet the guys were Hans and Reggie. Do you think it possible that one of them killed Frank in a fit of anger?” But if they had, where did Gloria fit in?

  “I’ve wondered that myself,” Malcolm replied. “I know they both flew to Digadeh last Saturday.”

  When he mentioned Saturday, I realized with a jolt that less than a week had passed since that disastrous phone call. It seemed more like a lifetime.

  “A friend of mine is a mechanic at the airport,” Malcolm continued. “He complained to me about an argument he got into with Hans last Saturday morning over a rush job on his plane. He later saw Reggie board the plane with Hans. An air traffic control buddy told him that it had flown to Digadeh.”