Windfall

by Byron TD Smith

  Henry spoke to the man’s back.

  “I said that I was taking care of something. Something personal.”

  Khatri turned slowly. The heel of his boot squeaked on the hard wood.

  “This is what you said. Is this what you did, Henry?”

  Henry blinked questions at dark eyes that probed back.

  “What?”

  “I’ve read about you in the papers, Henry. You went rogue and turned against your employer, didn’t you? You got yourself quite a bit of attention.”

  Khatri took a seat at the far side of the table and leaned forward on his elbows. He looked more at home here than Henry.

  Henry wiped his hands on his lap.

  “Would you like to tell me about the bank, Henry?”

  “That has nothing to do with this.”

  “But they are accusing you of being a thief, are they not?”

  “There’s no thief in that picture,” Henry said, pulling out a chair opposite Khatri. “Maybe you and yours should be looking into the information that we gave you.”

  “Specifically?”

  “Have you looked into the online conversation, the one we gave to Constable Stubbing? To see who he was speaking to, and why?”

  “Who is ‘he’?”

  “Well, whoever did this,” Henry waved his arm up and down. “To Mr. Benham and Tess.”

  “How do you know it was the same person from the messages?”

  Henry took a deep breath. “It’s not for me to investigate this. That’s your job.”

  “Right,” Khatri said, leaning back. “I’m curious, Henry, about your niece. You seem quite certain that she is safe here.”

  “Do I?”

  He nodded. “I don’t hear that you’re worried about what might have happened if our villain had come into your apartment instead of Tess’s. I don’t hear that you’ve even thought about taking the girl to stay with her aunt instead.”

  “Who said anything about her aunt?”

  As though in answer, the front door opened. Tess walked in without knocking, slowing down as she neared the men at the table.

  “Hey,” she said, “we’re done upstairs.”

  “Did you tell the police that I should take Fred to Sarah?”

  “No,” she said, clearly having expected a different question. “Yes. But not to hijack your visit.”

  Henry bristled at her choice of words. Had she said something so that he would continue with this ridiculous Cooper thing?

  “I couldn’t tell them anything else and I’m leaving them with the run of my place,” she continued. “So, I thought that I would pull the chute and hang out with you guys until they’re done.”

  Angry though he was at Tess having mentioned Sarah, her signals were getting through.

  I’m slow, but not that slow.

  “I think she’s right, Sergeant. As you yourself have pointed out, I should probably spend some time with my niece. Make sure she’s alright. It’s time for you to go.”

  Both men rose.

  “Mr. Lysyk, would you be willing to come downtown to continue our conversation?”

  Tess let out a small gasp.

  Henry had heard this question once before. Only then it was a plain-clothes officer, and he was in one of the bank’s boardrooms. He responded just how Alex had instructed him to that first time.

  “Am I being detained or arrested?”

  “No. I’m asking you to meet voluntarily, so we can speak at length. You may remember something else.”

  “Then I will pass, thank you.”

  Khatri’s stoic composure masked any annoyance. He nodded and walked past Tess to the front door.

  He looked back over his shoulder and spoke, holding the door by its knob. “If we find out that you are the one terrorizing your neighbors, or if you are this ‘thief’ and we find out you are messing about in our investigation, this will not end well for you."

  “Thank you. Bye.”

  “And, Mr. Lysyk, if you aren’t involved, and you care at all for your niece, you will take her to stay with her aunt.”

  “Thank you. Bye.”

  As Sergeant Khatri closed the door behind him, he offered one last piece of advice.

  “Get a lock on the front door.”

  Henry and Tess both spoke at once.

  “What was that about?” “You told them about Sarah?”

  Tess waved his question away. “They asked how long Fred was staying with you and whether there were any other family members. They said Bernadette had already mentioned an aunt. What was I supposed to say?”

  “Bernadette?”

  “She’s the property manager’s contact, right?”

  Henry scowled.

  Tess continued. “They think this is because of you, Hen. They asked if I knew about you and the bank.”

  Henry picked up on the question in her tone, and the conspicuous absence of her typical directness. He was acutely aware of Frieda behind him, listening from the doorway to the bedroom.

  “It’s nothing to do with me. I’m not a thief. What was with the Cooper references?”

  “They’ve not looked into the Net-Tectives at all. Constable Tipton was here again. She told me they’ve only investigated as far as finding out that it was from a forum for amateurs investigating cold cases. They’re monitoring the site for further messages, but other than that they’ve stopped there.”

  “Well, the fact that they’re monitoring means they aren’t completely buying Benham’s story about not being attacked.”

  “Sure. But other than that, they just turned their nose up at it. There’s no love lost between the pros and the amateurs it seems.”

  “So, no one is looking for DB Cooper?” Frieda spoke from the doorway of the bedroom. Shima’s dark eyes reflected out from her cloak, bundled in her arms.

  “No one except us,” Tess said.

  “And whoever broke in,” Henry corrected.

  “What does this mean? Are you still up for the pawnshop?” Tess asked, her voice skeptical.

  “Are you?”

  “I’m not stopping,” she said.

  Henry pressed his lips together and stuck a hand in his hair.

  “As long as they think you’re the person they’re looking for, Hen, I think they’re on the wrong track.”

  He opened his mouth to speak and closed it again.

  “If you’re worried about Fred, then you guys should stay.”

  “But you could use our help,” Frieda said.

  “I could.”

  “The way I see it,” Henry said, “our best bet all around is to get the police on the right track. We know that our villain is the American that was meeting Julian at the pawnshop. Therefore, Julian cannot be our guy. But, if we play our cards right, maybe we can at least find out what our guy is looking for.”

  “Agreed,” Tess said. “But what about…”

  Henry and Tess looked at Frieda. She looked especially small right now, as panicky tears welled in her eyes.

  “No, Hen,” Frieda said.

  Henry took in a deep breath.

  There was nothing Henry could do about getting a lock on the front door tonight. Taking Frieda to Sarah’s, though, was in his power. Even if the thought made him sick.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Tess sat at the kitchen table as Henry put away the rest of the takeout Thai food; their working dinner. Laptops were still on the table, making the place look like an improvised command center. Frieda’s laptop was a notable absence, though, having taken it with her to Sarah’s. Henry imagined Frieda would still be up, likely poring through the Net-Tectives site in bed. Probably cursing him, too.

  “Jeez, 1971 was a gong show,” Tess said. “Vietnam, the Pentagon papers, massive layoffs. There was even a riot in Gastown.”

  “Hmm.” Henry watched Shima’s chest rise and fall on the chair next to his own.

  “And Godzilla burned Disneyland to the ground.”

  “Hmm.”

 
Henry flinched in surprise as Tess poked his arm.

  “Sorry. I was thinking about Fred,” he said. “I hope she doesn’t have nightmares.”

  Tess brushed his arm before taking her hand back.

  “She’s tough. In fact, I’ll bet if she has any trouble sleeping it’s because she’s excited.”

  “No. She’s disappointed and angry.”

  The discussion with Frieda about going to Sarah’s had gone as poorly as Henry expected. Tears were followed by the silent treatment. It was cold comfort that she didn’t want to go any more than he wanted to get rid of her. There was just no way, as far as Henry could see, that he could look after her. The police saw the break-in to Tess’s apartment as a one-off. Henry wasn’t as confident this would be the case.

  He tipped his head back and emptied the last of his glass of wine. “She doesn’t want us to go to the pawnshop without her.” He poured some more.

  “Can you blame her? In her mind, we’re solving a mystery and we’ve cut her out.”

  “Is that what we’re doing? Solving a mystery?”

  “Whatever. There’s an element of excitement.”

  “It’s dangerous.”

  “And she trusts you to keep her safe and, to be honest, I think she has fun with you.”

  “Whose side are you on?” Henry closed his laptop. He scrubbed the sides of his head with his fingers in frustration. His fine hair became fluffy over his ears. “She’s still holding something back, though.”

  Tess dipped a middle finger into her glass, just breaking the surface of the wine. “What makes you say that?” she asked, putting the tip of her finger to her lips.

  “Do you believe that she forgot about the car? Or that she had those papers on her and forgot to mention it?” Henry instinctively looked to make sure the bedroom door was closed. “No way. The Fred I know would’ve run upstairs with the crossword the minute she found it. She’d have been dancing around with it.”

  “Because she solved your mystery of the missing crossword?”

  “Because then you couldn’t call me crazy. Furthermore, it would prove that it had nothing to do with Sarah and her boyfriend.”

  “You think she’s hiding something.”

  “Something. Yes.”

  Henry studied his glass. The wine was dark, more burgundy than red. But we still call it red.

  “Is she so bad, your ex?”

  “To be honest, I don’t know. She wasn’t always. But it makes me wonder whether you can ever really know someone.”

  Tess started to speak, but Henry picked his glass of wine up from the table and gestured with it at the half-full bottle and then the living room.

  She closed her laptop in agreement and picked up both her own glass and the bottle. She flicked off the light in the kitchen with her elbow. Her bare feet padded after him to the couch.

  Henry scooped Shima up with his free hand and dropped the old cat onto his lap. Shima made a groaning sound, turned in circles and appeared to decide for himself to settle down right where Henry had placed him.

  “Speaking to the police this afternoon, her re-telling of the car was different.”

  “Was it?”

  “Maybe,” Henry said, with less certainty. “At first she said the car was parked right next to the diner. Then, she tells Constable Tipton that she didn’t see the man’s face as he got in. If the car was right in front of the diner, the car would be facing us; the man would have to face the house in order to get in the driver’s side. If she didn’t see his face, then he was parked on the other side of the street.”

  Tess poured more wine. “Wow, Sherlock. How did you just let her get away with that? You’ve busted her wide open.”

  “I know, I…”

  Henry caught the look of sarcasm on Tess’s face, the mischief of wide eyes and the beginning curl of a smirk.

  “Good one,” he said. “I’m serious. Why would she lie?”

  Tess shrugged. “Maybe that’s why. Because you’re so serious. I’m not saying it doesn’t matter. But maybe what she needs from you, though, is just to feel safe.” She turned her back to him and curled her feet onto the couch, leaning against his arm.

  “Safe, eh? I’m trying.”

  Henry looked at the cat curled up in his lap, the tip of its tail beating a quiet tattoo against Tess’s back. Henry settled his own body against hers.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” Tess said. “She’s exceptional, and I know she means a lot to you. Well, take the good with the . . . teenager. Just hang out with her when this is all over.”

  “It’s not that simple. She will not let this go.”

  “Sure, she’s got her teeth in this as much as we do and she’s going to want to know what’s going on.” Tess sipped and took air in through her lips before swallowing. “Did you want to get rid of her?”

  The dread that had come over him in the restaurant, when he first learned of Frieda’s visit was now so unfamiliar. “Of course not.”

  “But you did.”

  “I had no choice.”

  “Didn’t you? What do you want?”

  Henry rested his lips against the rim of his glass. The wine smelled old, like earth and vines. It tasted of refinement and time spent learning about vintages and varietals. The ones he chose always smacked of fruits and berries.

  “It’s too late,” he said.

  “Is it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know what you want? Or you’re afraid to say?”

  He sighed and tried to explain his loan repayment scheme, getting fired, and the bank’s aggressive claims against him. “So, I don’t know where I’m going to be in a year. I might be here. I might be in Toronto. If that’s the case, I may not see her again for a long time.”

  “That’s rather sly, Mr. Goody Two Shoes.” She patted him on the knee.

  Henry swelled a little at her approval.

  “All but the Toronto bit,” Tess said. “Doesn’t that feel like running away?”

  “Or I’ve got nothing left to run away from.”

  “Does Fred know?”

  Henry bit the side of his cheek. After a moment, he answered, “No.”

  “Ah. You’ll miss her.”

  “I think I would miss a few people.”

  Those last words hung in the air as they sat quietly. Henry managed sips of his wine, navigating the glass over Tess and the cat. As the trickles of wine passed through his throat and into his chest, so did Tess’s observations.

  She broke the silence. “I’ll drive tomorrow.”

  “I didn’t even know you had a car.”

  “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, Mr. Lysyk.” Henry could hear the grin in her voice. “I’m an artist, sure, but I’m not starving.”

  Henry looked over at the door to the empty bedroom. “So, you think we should take her tomorrow? To the pawnshop?”

  “No,” Tess said after a pause. “I don’t think so, but it’s your call. We don’t know this Julian guy and we’re coloring outside the lines here. We gave the police the chat sessions, but we held back the index card. Then again, Fred’s as much a part of this as we are. Sure, it’s not the week of movies and Kool-Aid that you guys had planned, but maybe it’s the time together that you have.”

  “Escape room,” Henry said.

  “Pardon me?”

  “We had a reservation for one of those escape rooms today. You know, like the games?” He mimed playing on a phone with his hands. “You get locked in a room for an hour and have to find a hidden key and let yourself out.”

  “That sounds awful,” she said, laughing.

  “Probably.”

  Shima jumped down and headed to the bedroom. He nudged the door open with his nose and slipped inside.

  “I guess we were too loud.” Henry’s arm lay on top of Tess’s and he felt her intertwine their fingers. She gave his hand a squeeze.

  Although they knew they were the only two people in the house, they spoke i
n hushed tones. The one light, a cheap paper column floor lamp, seemed to dim as their eyelids grew heavy.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Henry woke on his couch with the pasty grogginess that comes only with having slept fully dressed from the day before. He pushed away the small, wool blanket.

  Too hot. What is this?

  He opened his eyes and saw that it was Frieda’s cloak. Next to him on the couch, Tess was curled up with a proper bedsheet. She made a light snoring noise, not unlike Shima. He sat up and craned his neck to see into the kitchen. Frieda knelt perched on a chair at the table, pen in hand, looking deep in thought.

  She noticed him and waved with the pen. “G’morning, Hen.”

  He rolled off the couch, careful not to disturb Tess, and whispered, “What are you doing here?”

  “I want to come today.” She put the pen down and faced him.

  As confused as he was, Henry felt pleased to see her. “Did Sarah drop you off?” He looked in the cupboard for a tin of cat food.

  “I fed Shima and there’s coffee.”

  “Have I told you you’re the perfect house guest?” Henry joined her at the table where she had been working on the crossword. “Wow, I haven’t seen one of these in a while.”

  “I got up early and I saw the paper guy come. It wasn’t a paperboy. It was a grown man.”

  He sipped at the coffee, swirling steam from the mug with his breath. “Thanks,” he said, perhaps for the coffee, the cloak, or something else altogether. She had filled in the odd word here and there in the crossword. One answer was crossed out and written over more than once. “You made a good dent in it,” he said, ruffling what was left of her blue brown hair with his fingers.

  “Did Sarah drop you off?” he asked again.

  “Don’t be mad, Hen.”

  He tried to erase any look of concern from his face. Tess’s words from the night before echoed in his brain.

  “After you dropped me off, I didn’t go inside.”

  “What do you mean you didn’t go inside?” he asked, covering his reaction by bringing his mug to his lips.

  “I knocked and no one was there. I went around back, but it was locked. You drove away and I came back here.”