by Alex Barclay
‘It’s important to understand that,’ said Lone.
He sat back, his head tilted.
Shit. What?
‘To really take it on board,’ said Lone.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. ‘I know,’ said Ren. ‘Keep taking the meds.’
‘I’m hoping that some of these points will stay with you and help you when you’re alone and faced with certain choices,’ said Dr Lone.
‘Yes,’ said Ren. ‘Thank you.’ She stood up to leave. ‘Just one thing … if triggers bypass meds …’ Then what’s the point of taking meds?
Dr Lone waited.
‘Aw, nothing,’ said Ren.
‘Nothing …’ said Dr Lone.
Ren walked to the door. ‘Triggers are much easier to handle when they’re part of a weapon – not when they’re the weapon itself.’
When she turned back, she could see a stillness in Dr Lone’s face. He just knew. They both did.
The previous hour had been a waste of time for both of them.
Eleanor Jensen welcomed Ren into the abbey library. Ren took out two photos and set them on the table in front of her: the first was Conor Gorman, the second was Jesse Coombes.
‘Ooh,’ said Eleanor.
Define that reaction …
‘What do you want to know?’ said Eleanor.
‘Well, anything you might know about either of these boys,’ said Ren.
Eleanor pointed to Jesse. ‘He’s done some work in the library, just in the last couple of weeks, seems like a nice, respectful young man.’
I bet he does.
‘And I’m not familiar with the other young man,’ said Eleanor.
‘OK,’ said Ren.
Eleanor waited a while before she spoke. ‘There’s something else. Something small. Well, I guess that’s for you to decide …’
Ren nodded.
‘There was a girl who came here from the ranch,’ said Eleanor. ‘She’s gone now, this happened back before Christmas – she said that one of the boys over there was very dark, he read dark books, wore skull rings …’
So far, sounds like my boyfriend …
‘I know lots of teenagers are like that,’ said Eleanor, ‘and I think this girl was a little princess type, so it probably seemed more dramatic to her. She said he showed her a bone one night and told her it was a real finger bone, that kind of thing. He gave her the creeps, but nothing more came of it.’ Eleanor looked at the photos again. ‘It may have been one of these boys, it may not, but I thought I’d let you know. There could be twenty more boys like that over there, it wouldn’t be a great leap.’
‘A bone?’ said Ren. ‘Could that have had anything to do with the cemetery?’
‘No,’ said Eleanor. ‘I asked Detective Kohler had any of the ground been disturbed and he said no, thank God. You heard the cemetery was tidied …’
‘Yes,’ said Ren. ‘Do you have any idea who did that?’
‘No – certainly it wasn’t any of the ladies of the abbey. And we really tried to keep that cemetery a secret from the kids. I don’t know why graves are such a draw to them. They’re the ones with their whole lives ahead of them – death should be the furthest thing from their minds. Not that we expected tidying to be part of what they might do there …’
‘I’d like to get a copy of the map of the abbey, if that’s OK,’ said Ren.
‘That’s not a problem,’ said Eleanor. She got up and went to a drawer underneath a table by the window.
Ren looked down at the photo of Jesse Coombes and thought about his journal, the fixations, the inability to bury his past.
Is that what happens when you’re bombarded with religion from such an early age?
Jesse Coombes’ first obsession was The Lord, so when his parents plucked him out of that world, it must have been a shock, he must have felt alone. And as soon as he went into the real world of high school, he had a new fixation – Dominic Fisher, an outcast, like himself. And maybe, when he was plucked out of his life again and sent to The Darned Heart, he found in Conor Gorman a similar soul.
Could he have developed a fixation on him? Could he have been desperate for Conor not to leave?
46
Eleanor spread out the map of the abbey on a glass-topped table by the window.
‘Here you are,’ she said. ‘Do you want to take a look?’
Ren got up and joined her. It was the same map Kohler had. She looked at the building outlines on it again: chapel, school, schoolmaster’s lodgings, theater, guest house for visitors. There was something familiar about the theater, about its design. She looked out the library window where she could see the outline of the theater being built on the grounds of the ranch.
‘Is that the same design as the one here on the map?’ said Ren.
Eleanor compared the two. ‘Looks like it is,’ she said. ‘Well, how about that?’
‘Did you give them the plans?’ said Ren.
‘No,’ said Eleanor.
‘Are they online anywhere?’ said Ren.
‘Not that I’m aware of,’ said Eleanor.
‘It’s a little coincidental,’ said Ren.
Eleanor looked like she was waiting for Ren to elaborate.
I have nothing.
‘Anyway, I digress,’ said Ren. ‘There’s another reason I’m here. Did you know that Burt Kendall didn’t, in fact, pay for the bus that was donated to you?’
‘Pardon me?’ said Eleanor.
‘I spoke with Detective Hooks from the Sheriff’s Office … Burt Kendall was sent a cashier’s check from an anonymous donor and asked to pretend the donation was from him.’
‘That’s bizarre,’ said Eleanor. ‘I had no idea. Why would he do that?’
‘Publicity, goodwill,’ said Ren. ‘It was from a bank in Butte and it was postmarked Cheyenne. Do you know anyone in either place who might want to support the abbey?’
‘No,’ said Eleanor. ‘I mean, Lord knows all the connections our residents have, but feel free to talk to everyone. I can send an email around. You just don’t know if someone had a relative who was in poor health and wanted to pass on funds before inheritance tax became an issue … but, it’s the Burt Kendall involvement that makes no sense.’
‘I know,’ said Ren.
‘What date was on the check?’ said Eleanor.
‘March 31st.’
‘And when was it sent?’ said Eleanor.
‘More than likely on April 6th,’ said Ren.
‘April 6th,’ said Eleanor. ‘Why is that date in my head?’ She paused. ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘because Delores Ward organized some protest and that was the day they were coming back.’
‘Where was the protest?’ said Ren.
‘Williston, North Dakota,’ said Eleanor.
‘Williston?’ said Ren. WTF? Where Robert Prince owns land? ‘Was it an anti-fracking thing?’
Eleanor laughed. ‘No – it was an anti-sins-of-the-flesh thing. There are two new strip clubs there to cater to all the oil workers with not a lot else to do with their money. She was joining a group of protesters outside.’
‘But why those particular strip clubs?’ said Ren. ‘When we have some perfectly bad ones here. Is Delores from North Dakota?’
Eleanor paused. ‘I have no idea where she’s from. It’s not something we talk about. People are free to be who they want to be here,’ said Eleanor. ‘We have a Clean Slate Rule. We even have a clean slate hanging in our hallway. It’s our subtle way …’
Don’t you get curious? ‘Williston … that’s a long drive,’ said Ren.
‘Yes – about eleven hours,’ said Eleanor. ‘And in the old bus, that can’t have been pleasant.’ She laughed. ‘Some billionaire oil man could have spotted the bus and sent us a pity gift.’
Ren laughed. ‘Do you mind if I just check my phone?’ she said, taking it out. She opened Google Maps and put in Denver, Butte and Williston. If a bus was traveling from the abbey to Williston, the route went right through Cheyenne. Could it be possible tha
t one of the ladies of the abbey mailed the check to Burt Kendall that day?
‘Eleanor,’ said Ren. ‘Is Betty Locke here – did she drive the bus that day?’
‘Yes,’ said Eleanor. ‘Let me call her in.’ She reached over to an old-style phone on the table. ‘Cute, isn’t it?’ she said.
‘I think I’d like to move in here,’ said Ren.
‘The detective with the phone in the library …’ said Eleanor.
Ren laughed. I like you, Eleanor Jensen.
Betty sat down on the armchair beside Ren, her eyes bright with curiosity.
‘I believe you and some of the other residents made a trip to Williston in April,’ said Ren. ‘Do you remember … did you stop off in Cheyenne on the way?’
Betty paused. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes, we did. Why do you ask?’
‘Just clearing up a few details,’ said Ren. ‘What happened in Williston?’
‘I’m sorry – meaning what?’ said Betty.
‘I heard you were protesting against strip clubs,’ said Ren.
‘I have never seen anything like that place,’ said Betty. ‘There is this vast man camp outside the town and it holds – it must be – a thousand men working for the mining companies. There is nothing for them to do other than drink and fornicate. Honestly, we looked ridiculous. We did our best, but we looked ridiculous. We weren’t even treated with any kind of respect by people walking past. Poor Delores took to her bed.’
‘Wasn’t it her suggestion that you go there?’ said Ren.
‘Oh, yes,’ said Betty, ‘we should have known better. She doesn’t get out much these days, and I guess we were so happy to see her getting involved that we went along with it.’
‘And when you stopped in Cheyenne, did everyone stay together or did people go their separate ways?’ said Ren.
‘We all pretty much stayed together,’ said Betty.
‘Did Delores manage to make it out and about at all?’ said Ren. Trying to act casual …
‘Yes, I think so, but … I can’t be sure,’ said Betty.
‘OK, thank you,’ said Ren.
‘Do you think Delores has done something?’ said Betty.
‘No,’ said Ren. ‘Not at all. Like I said – just clearing up a few things.’
All I’m hearing is Butte, Montana, Williston, North Dakota. And Robert Prince. And Delores Ward.
Have Robert Prince and Delores Ward got some kind of connection?
47
Delores Ward opened the door to the cabin and welcomed Ren in.
‘Can I get you coffee?’ said Delores.
‘No, thank you,’ said Ren. ‘But water would be great.’
Delores went to her little refrigerator and brought Ren a bottle of Poland Spring.
‘What can I do for you?’ said Delores.
‘I’d like to ask you about your trip to Williston in April,’ said Ren.
‘Oh,’ said Delores.
‘You stopped off in Cheyenne,’ said Ren.
‘Yes,’ said Delores. ‘I was feeling unwell. And I wanted to mail a check to Burt Kendall.’
‘Oh,’ said Ren. Wind out of sails. Damn.
‘Why did you want to send Burt Kendall a check?’ said Ren.
‘We needed a new bus,’ said Delores. She smiled. ‘That journey was particularly bad, so it was quite ironic that I had planned to send the check during that trip.’
‘But why anonymously?’ said Ren. And where did you get the money?
‘I didn’t want to embarrass him, I didn’t want the ladies of the abbey to know, and I wanted to help him because I was aware he was in financial difficulties. I wander around the grounds and I’ve spoken to him and some of his workers. I wanted to do a good deed and have him get some benefit too. I’ve always preferred to give quietly. I have family money. I can afford it.’
‘The cashier’s check came from Butte, Montana,’ said Ren. ‘Are you from Butte?’
She smiled. ‘I’m from here.’
Why would you say otherwise?
‘Why did you go all the way to Williston for your protest?’ said Ren.
‘Prostitution is wrong,’ said Delores. ‘The camps there are filled with men who traveled there to make their fortune, just like during the Gold Rush. It perpetuates the notion that women can be bought, and treated like dirt, and disease can be spread, and they put these women’s lives and health at risk. It’s an injustice and it’s like a step back in time. I wanted to stop that terrible, damaging cycle.’
‘What brought you to Evergreen Abbey?’ said Ren. Fleeing a life of prostitution?
‘It’s an old and sorry tale,’ said Delores. ‘A man broke my heart …’
See, love is a nightmare.
‘Not before he had taken my family away from me,’ said Delores. ‘Christmas Day. So I was left with no one.’
Yikes.
‘You don’t have to talk about this,’ said Ren.
But, please, carry on.
She didn’t.
‘Sit down,’ said Ren. ‘Let me get you some water.’
‘Thank you,’ said Delores.
They sat in silence.
‘Delores, do you know a man called Robert Prince?’ said Ren.
Delores frowned. ‘No. I can’t say that I do. Who is he?’
‘He’s a very successful businessman,’ said Ren. ‘He’s based in New York, he’s got businesses here in Colorado, but his family are originally from Butte, Montana.’
‘I have no family connections there,’ said Delores.
Damn you! Little old lady …
‘OK,’ said Ren. ‘Laura Flynn, the victim of the shooting … she was his housekeeper.’
Something flashed across Delores’ face.
What was that?
‘Would you know anything about that?’ said Ren.
Delores shook her head. ‘No.’
Silence descended once more.
‘Are you OK?’ said Ren, eventually.
‘Yes,’ said Delores. ‘Yes.’ She paused. ‘If you need to be somewhere, you go ahead.’
‘Are you sure you’re OK?’
Delores nodded. She moved to stand up.
‘Stay where you are,’ said Ren.
‘No, no,’ said Delores. ‘I can at least walk you to the door.’
Ren gave her a hug before she left. Delores flinched.
Ooh … I didn’t think that through. Poor impulse control.
But Delores smiled. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’
Ren sat in the Jeep and started the engine. Her phone rang. It was Janine.
Ren picked up. ‘Hey, girl.’
Silence from Janine.
‘Are you OK?’ said Ren.
‘Yes … I’m sorry,’ said Janine. ‘I’m …
Crying …
‘What is it?’ said Ren.
‘I was right,’ said Janine. ‘About the unit … they’re cutting the unit.’
‘What?’
‘They’re cutting the cold case unit.’
‘Oh my God, no,’ said Ren. ‘No way. How can they do that?’
‘They can and they have and …’
‘But, I don’t get it,’ said Ren. ‘When did they say that? Have they given you notice?’
‘They haven’t said it officially,’ said Janine. ‘Logan, the sweetheart, had heard, and tipped me off.’
‘Aw, bless his heart,’ said Ren. ‘But fuck …’
‘I knew there was something up when they moved me from my office …’
‘So, what’s their plan?’ said Ren.
‘I don’t know, I’ll have to wait and see what the sarge says. Logan didn’t know, but he figures I’ll just be joining the other investigators.’
‘Well, as scenarios go, there could be worse outcomes …’
‘I know,’ said Janine, ‘but I don’t want to lose my unit.’
‘Of course you don’t,’ said Ren. ‘It’s just … well, thank God they’re not throwing you out on the street.’<
br />
Silence. ‘I … just can’t believe it,’ said Janine, eventually. ‘I’m not saying I’m amazing or anything—’
‘You are amazing,’ said Ren. ‘What are you talking about? Fuck this. Where are you now?’
‘Where all the best cries happen …’
‘Ryan Gosling’s arms?’
Janine laughed and cried. ‘I wish. I’m in the ladies’ room …’
‘What time are you finished up?’
‘Five.’
‘I’ll be there,’ said Ren.
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Janine. ‘I’m fine.’
‘Please,’ said Ren. ‘In my mind, I’m already gone. See you in Woody’s at five forty-five p.m. Be there or be …’
‘Fired.’
‘Stop.’
Ren put down the phone.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. This will work out. She is Janine Hooks. She is kick-ass. She is the best. And I have to do something to help. Rader and Hooks! Um … Bryce and Hooks! Oh my God. Where the hell did that come from?
48
Ren and Janine sat in Woody’s. There had been no real food, just snacks and beer. Ren checked her watch. It was close to midnight.
‘I have to call Ben, just give me two minutes.’
‘Say hi from me,’ said Janine.
‘I will,’ said Ren.
I am lucky to have a man like Ben. I am so lucky.
Ren went outside onto the sidewalk and dialed Ben’s number.
‘I will preface this by saying I have not been drinking at all,’ said Ren.
‘So, you’re hammered,’ said Ben.
‘Exactly,’ said Ren. ‘Janine and I are drowning our sorrows.’
‘What sorrows?’ said Ben.
‘Well, poor Janine has been tipped off that the cold case unit is about to be cut.’
‘Not Janine, no way,’ said Ben. ‘Tell her I’m sorry, send her my love. Idiots.’
‘I know,’ said Ren. ‘I will. And my sorrow is about becoming homeless. Annie Lowell’s trip around Europe has come to an end. I have to hand my, slash, her home back …’
‘What?’ said Ben. ‘No. When?’
‘She’ll be back in Denver next month,’ said Ren. ‘It’ll be so lovely to see her, but I can’t bear the idea of leaving the house.’