Purple Palette for Murder

by R. J. Harlick

  “I couldn’t let it happen. I needed those goddamn diamonds. Hans flew me in so I could convince him not to. But he wouldn’t listen, and as the saying goes, one thing led to another and he was lying on the ground bleeding. It was Hans who came up with the idea of framing Eric. He knew how much I hated the guy.”

  If looks could kill, mine would. I didn’t think I had ever hated someone so much.

  “We hid the body in Frank’s tipi. Trick was getting Eric to come to Digadeh. Hans had heard about the attack on Teht’aa, so he called Eric and told him Frank had done it.”

  “Did Frank really do it?” I blurted out.

  “How should I know? But it worked. Eric nabbed a ride with Plummers and was in Digadeh before I had a chance to figure out how I was going to do it. It was Gloria who came up with the idea of using Special K, that right, babe?”

  She crossed her arms over her breast and scowled at him.

  “She got it off one of her johns, one of those date-rape drugs that makes you forget.”

  “Yah, he tried to slip it into my drink,” she finally admitted. “Wanted free sex. Jeez, did I make him pay. Made him give me all his drugs and money or I report him to the cops. Look Meg, I’m really sorry. I know I shouldna given your man that stuff, but I was in a crazy space….”

  “You know he was about to go to jail for you because he thought you had killed Frank.”

  “Fuck, I didn’t know. Oh, I feel awful. I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”

  “At least you’re doing the right thing now.”

  “Yah, I shoulda never done it.”

  Though I wanted to throttle her, I merely mumbled, “Yup.”

  Once he finally admitted to the murder, Reggie couldn’t wait to spew it all out. “I couldn’t believe how fast it worked. He was stumbling about within minutes of finishing the Pepsi Gloria gave him. She steered him to Frank’s tipi, where Hans and I waited with the body. After he passed out, I took his knife and stuck it into the wounds on Frank’s body and put it in his hand. Then we got the hell out of there. Hans dropped me off in Yellowknife then headed back into the bush. Gloria left later on the daily flight.”

  “You know someone saw you, Gloria,” I said.

  “Yah, you said, but there was no one around when I went back. I made sure.”

  “You went back?” Reggie exclaimed in disbelief. “Why, for god’s sake?”

  “I lost my earring. I had to go back to find it. And I did. Right next to Eric.” She shook her head to ensure we noticed the two dangling beaded earrings.

  “How could you betray your cousin like this?” I said. “Teht’aa has done so much for you.”

  For the first time she looked truly chastened. “Sorry,” she said in a small voice. “Eric was a good guy. I liked him, but Hans told me I had to do it … for him … and our daughter. Besides, Teht’aa didn’t love him, I did.”

  She whirled around to Hans and yelled, “You bastard! You’re never getting near Anita again.”

  She ran over to her daughter, picked her up, and retreated sobbing to the tent.

  sixty-two

  Gloria might not have done the actual killing, but she had helped frame my husband and had been willing to let him go to jail for a murder he didn’t commit. Any sympathy I might’ve had for her was gone.

  Hans attempted to run after her, but Malcolm stopped him with his rifle and forced him to sit on the ground beside Reggie. He wanted to tie up both men, but his aunt wouldn’t allow it, reminding us, as her brother had, that there was no place for them to flee.

  I expected people to jump up and start loading the two men and Gloria into a boat. The sooner we handed Frank’s killer and his accomplices over to the RCMP, the sooner Eric would be set free. Even so, it would still take a full day to reach Digadeh. If only we’d brought a satellite phone.

  But no one made an effort to leave.

  “Why aren’t we going?” I asked Uncle Joe.

  “Too soon,” he replied. “Better for Eric we stay. He want to know who hurt his daughter too.”

  He clamped his mouth shut and refused to explain further.

  I was awfully tired of the old man’s obstinance. Wanting relief from the craziness, I jumped up and stomped into the woods behind the tents. There appeared to be a path, so I followed it, thinking it would lead me to the fishing beach. It didn’t. After I didn’t know how many minutes, I slowed as my anger slowed and I realized the path was no more.

  I heard rustling.

  Remembering the bear from the previous night, I froze. I debated calling out but feared it would betray my city foibles, particularly if it ended up being a small, defenceless animal like a squirrel or rabbit or whatever could survive a subarctic winter. Besides, if it was a bear, I didn’t want to upset it.

  I scanned the bushes around me and tried to peer around the slender tree trunks. Nothing. I waited. Nothing but empty shrubbery, burgeoning with new green leaves. And then a branch twitched. At first I made out two grey, upright ears. Then I spied two unblinking yellow eyes staring back at me.

  Not a bear — too small and the wrong colour. But too large for a fox, so it had to be a wolf. I could almost sense him licking his chops at the sight of me. But I didn’t sense a threat; more like curiosity. Still, I was reluctant to move, so I stared back. An eye-blink later, the eyes disappeared, along with the ears. I waited several more minutes until I was satisfied he’d gone.

  I returned as nonchalantly as I could to the fire and casually mentioned the wolf.

  “That’s Nodi.” Angus laughed. “He’s a big puppy, about a year old. Likes to play with Anita’s ball. He’s been hanging around since we arrived. No need to worry about him.”

  I felt a tad foolish. But I couldn’t forget that he was a wild animal that wouldn’t hesitate to kill. On the other hand, there was a man sitting across from me who hadn’t hesitated to kill. I decided if I had the choice of being alone in these wilds with one of them, I would take the wolf.

  Angus was passing another pot of tea around, while Malcolm continued to guard Hans and Reggie. Florence returned from the tent where Gloria had fled and was settling herself back into her chair.

  The air had become smokier. Stray bits of ash floated on the wind. I could see flames leaping at the edge of the distant shore and fanning out to the shoreline on either side.

  “Guys, the fire’s coming our way. We should go.” If getting these men into custody wasn’t going to get them to leave, maybe the fire would.

  “Plenty time,” Uncle Joe replied. “We not finished.”

  He spoke to his sister for several long minutes, then leaned back into his chair and took a long slurp of tea before beginning. “Florence want me to tell you about Carol, her daughter.”

  If all eyes weren’t focused on the old man before, they were now.

  “No one know about Carol. I think I only person. She was pretty, like her mother.”

  Embarrassed, Florence hid her smile behind her hand.

  “Carol was born in the bush. She was first baby for Florence and George. She good girl, help look after her baby sisters. Florence didn’t want her to go to school, so they stay in the bush. But the RCMP find them and take Carol away when she eight years old. The other girls too small, still babies. When she leave, Florence give Carol purple embroidery.”

  Florence interrupted.

  After another short exchange, Uncle Joe continued. “Like Florence say, this purple embroidery very important to us Bluegoose. I remember seeing it when little, but never knew it was about diamonds. The secret was for women, not men, because men greedy.”

  He gave both Hans and Reggie a long hard stare before continuing, “Mamàcho Teht’aa give it to our mother. She was oldest girl. Our mother give it to Florence, the only girl. Like I said, Florence had four girls, so she take an axe and cut the embroidery into four pieces. When RCMP ta
ke Carol, she give her purple flowers with green bird to take with her. But Carol never come back from school, and Florence never see Carol’s purple flowers again.

  “Florence try to find out what happen to her daughter, but no one tell her. She don’t know if she alive or dead. Her other girls don’t know. They only know that one day Carol was at school, the next day she gone. Many, many years later, Father Harris come to Digadeh and tell her that Carol is dead, but he don’t tell her how. He also don’t tell her where Carol is buried. Florence pretty sure he knows. So she waits. She believes in God. She believes God is looking after Carol in Heaven. She was a good Catholic girl. She believe one day before she die, God will tell her about her daughter.”

  He swivelled around in his chair to face the priest, who, with his eyes still downcast, continued to remain disconnected from the people around him. He thumbed his bible.

  “That day is here,” Uncle Joe spat out.

  Florence leaned forward and jabbed a finger at Father Harris. “Why my Carol die?”

  We waited.

  I heard a rustle from the tent behind me and looked around to see Gloria clutching her daughter, tiptoeing toward us. I pushed myself along the dirt to give them enough room.

  Father Harris raised his eyes heavenward and crossed himself. He muttered something, likely a prayer, before directing his gaze fully on Florence. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve told you many years ago. But I worried it would upset you.” He paused and looked heavenward again before continuing, “She died in childbirth. Please, I’m so sorry.”

  I could see Florence was confused by his English. I waited for Gloria or Uncle Joe to explain in Tlicho, but both seem too dazed, so I said, “Ohndah Florence, I’m so sorry, your daughter died having a baby.”

  “Baby?” she said.

  “Yes, a baby. She died—”

  Uncle Joe took over in Tlicho.

  “Baby, where baby?” Florence asked, her eyes brimming in tears.

  The priest hesitated and crossed himself before saying, “I’m sorry, he died too.”

  He’s lying was my immediate thought, but before I could challenge him, Florence whispered, “Boy? Girl?”

  “Boy. He lived for only a few hours. He was too small to live.”

  “Name?”

  “I baptized him Edward….” His voice trailed off to such a low murmur that I wasn’t certain anyone other than myself caught the rest. “After my brother, who died when he was a boy.” He raised his eyes once more to heaven.

  “I don’t believe the baby died,” I interjected. “I think you did something with him, like put him up for adoption.”

  Hope filled Florence’s eyes until he replied, “I buried him beside his mother.”

  “Where?” Florence shot back.

  “At the Grey Nuns mission, where I sent your daughter when I knew she was with child.”

  I could see her searching for the English words. Once again neither Gloria nor Uncle Joe came to her aid, so I asked the most obvious question. “Who was the father? One of the other students?”

  He moved his mouth up and down, but no sound came out.

  “Or you?” I hissed.

  “She was so beautiful,” he whispered, followed by another heavenward plea. “Father, forgive me, for I have sinned.” Crossing himself, he murmured his confession.

  Only then did I notice the scratches on his face where there had been a bandage. It was as if someone had scraped their fingernails down his cheek.

  sixty-three

  “Priests.” Uncle Joe spat onto the dirt. “You make me sick. You say God protect us. But he sure as hell don’t protect us from the likes of you.”

  Tears seeped from under Florence’s closed lids as she crossed herself in prayer.

  “I’m so sorry, Mamàcho.” Gloria embraced her grandmother. The two of them wept entwined in each other’s arms, each alone in their own grief.

  “Get out of here,” Uncle Joe rasped. “You destroy my sister’s family. You don’t deserve to live.”

  The priest struggled to rise from the ground, but the old woman intervened.

  “Stay. Teht’aa? What you do?”

  Teht’aa? What did the priest have to do with Eric’s daughter? Unless … but how would Florence know?

  With a deep, painful groan, the priest dropped back down. He sighed, brushed the sweat from his brow, though the day was more cool than warm, and touched his scratched cheek.

  No longer bothering to pretend otherwise, he spewed out another sordid confession. “Teht’aa wanted Carol’s embroidery. Florence, you must’ve told her I had it. She said it belonged to her family, that I had no right to it. But I couldn’t let her have it. It was my only memory of Carol … and my son. I never dreamed I would have a child….” Another deep sigh.

  “Florence, I know it was against God and the Church, but your daughter was the only woman I ever loved. She may have been only sixteen, but she was my angel with the innocent purity of the Virgin Mary. After she died I never touched another girl. It was God’s retribution.”

  “Did you rape my daughter?” I hissed.

  “Teht’aa, a lovely name. Beautiful like her mother and just as headstrong. Charmaine bit me the first time I loved her. I smacked her and she screamed and brought the nuns running. So I smacked her daughter. She threatened to tell the police if I didn’t give her Carol’s purple flowers.” He glanced at the woman whose daughters he had ruined. “You’ve known all along about Carol, haven’t you, Florence?”

  With considerable reluctance and distaste, Gloria returned to her job as translator.

  When she finished, Florence replied, “When you told me Carol was dead, you didn’t look me in the eye like an innocent man. Answer Meg’s question. Did you rape my granddaughter too?”

  “So beautiful, lying on the ground after I smacked her. It had been many years since I sinned with your daughter. Too old, she didn’t have the virgin purity I liked, but I thought, one last time before I die. She fought like a she-cat, just like her mother.” He touched his cheek again. “It only made me want her more. I remember little. A car horn brought me to my senses.”

  “You left her to die,” I said. “Like a piece of roadkill.”

  “People use that back alley all the time. I assumed someone would come by soon enough.”

  “When she lost all memory of the rape, I bet you thought God was still on your side. I sure hope your reason for wanting to visit her in the hospital wasn’t to kill her. But you killed Lucy, didn’t you? She saw you attack her cousin.”

  “I’d already sinned enough. I thought one more wouldn’t matter. I didn’t know she had seen me until she said something in her confused way that told me she had. I doubt the police would’ve believed her, but I wasn’t going to chance it.”

  “Why did you come here? You were safe. No one was looking at you for the crimes.”

  “Because Ohndah Florence asked me to. I have always had a deep respect for her.”

  “Just not for her girls.” I so wanted to slug the smirk off his face.

  “She also asked me to bring Gloria.”

  “I’m surprised she trusted you with her.”

  “God told me it was time to make my confession.”

  He raised himself carefully from the ground and limped over to Florence.

  He lowered himself painfully to his knees. “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. My last confession was …”

  Thus began his lengthy confession to the woman he so horribly wronged.

  sixty-four

  It turned out Malcolm had had the smarts to bring a satellite phone. Unbeknownst to the rest of us, apart from his father, he had called in the RCMP. I heard the drone of their plane long before it buzzed over us and landed on the lake.

  The priest had finished his confession to Florence and was bowing his
head, seeking forgiveness. Amazingly, she gave it. After crossing herself, she placed her hand on his wispy grey hair as if she were blessing him.

  I found it incredible that she wasn’t filled with hate. I couldn’t say that about myself. I knew I didn’t have it in me to forgive the man for his vicious rape of Teht’aa. The same way I would never be able to forgive the monster who raped me.

  There. I said it. Finally. In our talks at the hospital, Teht’aa wouldn’t leave me alone until I admitted it. She kept insisting that the healing wouldn’t begin until I said the words out loud. I was raped.

  After the police loaded the four prisoners into their plane, there was no room for me, despite my desperate entreaties, particularly when I learned they were flying straight to Yellowknife. But they left with a promise to arrange a flight for me from Digadeh. Uncle Joe, Malcolm, and I left within minutes of the plane’s departure, leaving Florence to the solitude of her camp.

  Her brother had tried to convince her to come, but she wanted no part of the fuss and bother of Digadeh. She was perfectly content to remain in her solitary, if somewhat smoky, world with Malcolm’s son, her great-granddaughter, and their friendly wolf, who watched as we puttered away from the camp. At least she agreed to leave if the fire came too close.

  The police were good on their promise. Within an hour of our arrival at Digadeh, the RCMP plane was whisking me off to Yellowknife. After leaving a message on Sally’s phone to expedite Eric’s release, I reserved a rental car, intending to head straight to the prison. It proved unnecessary.

  My husband was waiting for me on the tarmac. Looking thin in the clothes I’d finally delivered to the prison and forlorn after his ordeal, he stood uncertainly beside the police car that had brought him. My heart wrenched. When his face creased into his much-loved dimpled smile, I ran without hesitation into his arms and we hugged and kissed several lifetimes away.

  Close to a month later and the hugging and kissing hadn’t stopped. We waited until Teht’aa was strong enough to make the trip. Once our plans were firmed up, we arranged for Jid to fly out to join us but had to leave poor Shoni behind in the care of Janet. We chartered a plane to fly us into Florence’s camp, along with three canoes. Eric felt it only fitting that we make this momentous trip into the past the traditional way, the way Mamàcho Teht’aa would’ve travelled more than a century ago. We brought both Gloria and Uncle Joe with us.