Dark blossoming, p.6
Dark Blossoming, page 6
The forensic techs emerged from the open door. Bernie and Neil moved up to speak to them.
“Never mind,” Glory said. “Under the circumstances, I cancelled the council meeting. After Bert’s funeral, we’ll hold a memorial meeting and introduce his replacement. I guess at his age, this isn’t unexpected. The town council must continue to function.”
Wow, empathy much? “It might not be as simple or as quick as that.”
“What do you mean?” Her pompom bounced as her head pivoted away from Bert’s house. Her red-hot glare fastened on my face.
Through the encroaching darkness, four men — two techs, Bernie, and my husband — stared in our direction.
“Bert’s passing is not an act of God.”
CHAPTER 13
Neil
Neil parked under a spindly tree to give Bean some shade and left the back windows opened half way. On second thought, he opened the windows all the way. He didn’t want to come back to shattered glass from well-meaning pet rescuers or, worse, a photo of his license plate splattered over social media for animal cruelty. “Back in a few minutes, girl.”
Even the die-hard beach tourists disappeared after Thanksgiving, leaving Heidi’s lakeside condo building deserted. A cement patio ran the length of the bottom floor, while the top units shared a long balcony. The setup allowed each resident a view of the sunsets over Lake Huron.
By the time Neil reached the top landing, pin pricks of light floated at the edges of his vision, and he gasped for oxygen. Damn. He planned on heading to the gym this afternoon for a light workout. Maybe not.
He waited until the spots disappeared and his heartrate slowed. Heidi rented Unit 206 at the end. He knocked and waited.
Her Kia sat in the parking lot behind the building. He knocked again.
The door opened and Heidi glanced up at him, her expression unreadable. When he met her the first time, the lack of emotion she exhibited surprised Neil. Her expression never matched her vigorous speech pattern. Her eyes didn’t sparkle or flash like Bliss’s. He couldn’t put his finger on it. He’d honed his people-reading skills, but the real Heidi had yet to reveal herself to him, even after the weeks they’d spent together.
“Neil. What a nice surprise. Should you be up and around so soon?” Her focus never left the worn folder tucked under his arm.
“You haven’t returned our calls or texts in the past few days. I stopped by to have a chat. Are you feeling unwell?”
She reached up to tidy her already perfectly-styled white hair. “I have a bridge tournament at the rec centre downtown in an hour, but I can spare a few minutes. Come in.”
Neil dropped onto a low-to the-floor couch that matched Heidi’s easy chair. He was thankful to sit down, but getting up could be a problem. Heidi watched him place the folder on the coffee table between them.
He studied her, not sure how to approach the contents of the folder with a woman over 80 years old, as well as his grandmother-in-law. He couldn’t imagine having a conversation with his own grandmother to demand answers on her connection to a disappearance in 1958.
Sweat formed on his hairline, and he brushed at the moisture before it trickled down his face. The first questions that came out of his mouth were not what he planned. “Heidi, why did you leave Lockport 20 years ago? Why come back now?”
She didn’t answer right away. He plowed ahead. “Both your children were here, and three grandchildren. Yet, you didn’t return when your daughter died, or your grandchildren needed you. Dougal had emotional issues which are ongoing. Blyth married and has two little boys. Bliss suffered through an unhappy marriage and a worse divorce. Did she tell you she lived in a run-down trailer for two years while she worked at a host of part-time, minimum-wage jobs, doing her best to save up for a lawyer to help get her half of the assets? Did she tell you she finally resorted to blackmailing her ex? With Bliss’s parents camping under redwoods on the west coast, she really could have used your support.”
Neil finally ran out of words. He leaned back as a wave of fatigue swept him. Heidi hadn’t moved, nor had her expression changed from one of mild interest. He itched to recall his questions and keep his comments on a professional level, but the husband in him demanded the answers. Would she tell him what she thought he wanted to hear? Would there be blanks she didn’t fill in? Did his questions and her answers have anything to do with the meagre contents of the folder?
Heidi’s faded eyes gave nothing away. Neil turned his head, so she wouldn’t feel pressured. Bliss would be furious if she found out he questioned her grandmother this way, but Heidi wasn’t likely to repeat their conversation to her.
Heidi rose and stared out the window overlooking the lake. “When Joe died, I realized I had lived only for him. My children, my grandchildren — they weren’t enough to keep me grounded here. I sold up and left. Didn’t care where I ended up, but finally stopped on the west coast, in Squamish, British Columbia. I ran into one of my sisters there and decided to stay. So, Squamish is where I spent the past 20 years. My daughter, Celia, died along with her husband in a boating accident. They were gone instantly, nothing I could do. When Bliss’s father, Randall, and her mother came through B.C. in their RV, we visited for a short while. We didn’t have much in common — my fault entirely. None of the grandchildren told me about their troubles. Blyth notified me when her boys were born. I knew Bliss got married, then divorced, but she never asked for help or mentioned any difficulties. I must confess I wouldn’t have come back if I did know, but I would’ve sent Bliss money to help her out. If I’d known.”
Neil flicked the edges of the folder. “Are you planning on staying?”
“I’m not sure.” Heidi folded her hands in her lap. “Is there anything else I can tell you?”
Stunned by Heidi’s lack of emotional attachment to her family, Neil decided she could withstand his most crucial question. “Who is Jean-Paul Tremblay?”
Not a muscle in her face twitched, but her fingers curved into fists and she looked down at them for a moment. When she glanced back up, her eyes were again blank slates.
She had expected the question, perhaps as soon as he came in. Heidi touched the folder with a finger that trembled slightly. “Is this Joe’s record?”
“It is. Can you tell me about Everdale?”
“You want to know about Everdale as well?”
Neil nodded.
She sat down and Neil noticed the fragility of the bones in her neck and shoulders. She had once been a strong woman, but time was running out for her.
She said, “I expect you haven’t mentioned the folder to Bliss yet. If you’re up for it, I’ll be at your house after Bliss leaves for work Monday morning. Say, nine o’clock? Dress warm. I’ll tell you about Jean Paul Tremblay. I’ll take you to Everdale.
CHAPTER 14
Neil
On the way to his Jeep, Neil checked his messages. Ed Reiner had an hour before he was due back at the hospital, and asked if he could meet for coffee? That is, if Neil was in town and not at home resting as he had been told.
Neil replied he’d be there in five minutes. He left the windows down so Bean could have a good sniff, and drove up Harbour to Main Street. With the bypass road closed for minor construction, the semis hauling goods north drove through Main Street, forced to slow their speed to 30 km/h from the south end of town to its northern limits.
It took a few minutes for the traffic to break and allow him to slip in-between a Ford pickup and a dusty tractor trailer. The Mason Jar Café was a block down, beside the municipal building that housed the police station on the first floor, with town offices occupying the second. He signaled and made a hard right into the short alley leading to the back of the station where staff and officers parked their personal vehicles. “I’ll leave the windows down for you, but do not jump out and beg at the back door to be let in. Got it?” He took the shortcut to the café — a narrow alley between the buildings.
Ed sat at the window booth, the weak sun reflecting off the shine on his bald head. His phone and neatly-folded glasses lay beside a topped-up coffee cup. His back was to the door, allowing Neil to sit opposite him with a clear view of people coming in or leaving.
“Thanks, Ed.” Neil’s skin tightened if he had a door or open space at his back. He nodded at a few of his officers but avoided eye contact. He didn’t want more questions about his health.
“You could have a grilled cheese sandwich,” Ed suggested.
“What about coffee?” He sure as fuck wouldn’t order tea in here.
“One cup a day for a while.”
The coffee Neil had before he drove Bliss to her bike parked in front of Glory’s house didn’t count.
He caught Carol’s attention and put in his order. Ed had half a doughnut in front of him that he quickly disposed of, before casting a guilty look at Neil.
Neil grunted. “Don’t worry about it. For some reason, anything sugary doesn’t appeal right now.”
“That’ll wear off. If you’re having any problems, now is the time to tell me. Your colour is good. Any questions?”
“Not at the moment.” Not the place to ask when he could have sex with his wife again. “Maybe one. When can I go back to the gym? A light workout ...”
“Back up there. Another three weeks for any kind of weights. Walking is fine to build up your stamina. Nothing more.”
Neil’s order arrived. Taking a ravenous bite that nearly engulfed half the triangular-cut sandwich, he swallowed before asking, “Got anything on Bert Thiesson’s body?”
“A few things. I already sent a message to Bernie and told him I’d meet up with you and fill you in. He’s trying to track down any family or anyone seen going in or out of Bert’s house Tuesday to Wednesday morning.”
“Is that when he died? Three days ago?”
“I’m a coroner, not a pathologist. The body is ready to be picked up for autopsy by the Regional Coroner’s Office in London. The sooner, the better, considering its condition. London should be able to narrow it down, but I’d say, by the state of decomposition, he died anywhere from Tuesday noon to early Wednesday morning, say 6 a.m. That’s an 18-hour window.”
“I don’t like it when the time of death is so imprecise,” Neil said. “Makes things a whole lot more difficult.”
“Hang onto your hat,” Ed responded. “There’s more.”
Carol stood beside the table with a steaming coffee pot. She tilted a brow questioningly at Neil but Ed answered for him. “No, thanks, Carol. We’re done here.” Neil gaze followed her to the next table where she refilled the cups of an elderly couple.
“Are you ready to hear what Bert’s examination revealed?”
“Right. Of course.” Neil studied the bottom of his cup. He was a caffeine addict, no question.
“I noticed two abrasions, small ones, on the shoulder blades of the body. There’s no sign of healing or scabbing, so I’m pretty sure they occurred perimortem.”
“Somebody hit him with a blunt object?”
“I lean towards a hard push from behind. The skin of a frail, 87-year-old individual is extremely thin. It wouldn’t take much to break it. The side of the head where he impacted the foyer floor is a mess, but there are no signs of a prior blow.”
Neil ate the pickle on his plate. If pickles were a no-go, too late for Ed to speak up. “Homicide?”
“The pathologist will make that determination after autopsy. If possible. For now, I rule it a suspicious death. I would advise Bernie to continue the death investigation on that premise.”
“Do you believe he died immediately?”
“I expect the pathologist to find that impact with the floor killed him instantly.”
“What about alcohol?”
Ed rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Inconclusive. High blood alcohol levels develop during putrefaction. I doubt autopsy will determine if drinking was a factor in Bert Thiesson’s fall one way or the other.”
Ed’s phone chimed from the table. At the same time, a motorcycle engine sounded from his own phone. He opened Bliss’s text:
BS BDY GN FRM HSPTL MRG!!!
Neil squinted at the message. Bliss knew he had trouble reading words with missing vowels so, naturally, she never used them when texting him.
Ed tucked his phone in the pocket of his jacket. “That’s the hospital. The transport from London came for the body. It’s missing from the morgue.”
Neil checked Bliss’s code again. “Do you recall specifically when the body was last seen in the morgue?”
Ed stopped halfway out of the booth and sank back onto the bench. “I finished with him last night around 10 p.m. There were no deaths in the hospital yesterday or this morning, so I doubt a staff member would step foot in the morgue. Even zipped in heavy plastic, Bert made his presence known.”
“Who locks up?”
Ed turned tired eyes on Neil. “No lock on the morgue doors. The back exit is supposed to remain secured until a funeral home or other transport picks up a body. The night security guard inspects it on his rounds.”
He checked his phone. “Got to get back to the hospital.” He reached for the cheque, but Neil picked it up.
“I’ll take care of this and inform Bernie about the body.”
Leaning against his Jeep, ruffling Bean’s ears through the open window, Neil came to a decision. He called Bernie to tell him about the missing body. “Can you send someone over to the hospital to inspect the exit door in the hall outside the morgue? See if it’s been tampered with. Also, interview the night guard. Does he recall checking it. If so, what time?”
Neil waited for Bernie’s agreement, then said, “One more thing. Ed can’t confirm homicide but, with the body disappearing, ramp up efforts to locate visitors to Bert’s house Tuesday or early Wednesday.”
CHAPTER 15
Bliss
One of my part-time cleaning staff picked up a few shifts a week at the hospital cafeteria. Word of a body missing from the morgue spread through the hospital in minutes and Lucy texted me immediately. I instructed her to contact the rest of the team. I’d alert the proper authorities.
What’s the point, you say? Sounds like a bunch of kids playing secret agent? I’d lived in Lockport all my life, as had my parents and grandparents. I was attuned to the heartbeat of the town. Nothing happened in Lockport without one of my street team learning about it and notifying me. We added another layer of protection for the residents of Lockport.
I advised the team to keep news of The Groper’s disappearance to themselves for now. The proper authorities had been notified.
I informed Neil by text, then consulted Friday’s list. Four names. Not too bad. That should take me one hour, tops, unless I was forced to pummel the deadbeats with my winning personality.
Ivy paid me for three hours whether it took half an hour or four hours. After that, I stayed in my cubicle and ran schedules or payroll for Bliss This House before presenting myself to Glory and whatever really stupid errands she’d thought up in the last 24 hours. My shift schedule and payroll weren’t due for a few days.
I should slip home and spend more time with my man. The dream bathroom wasn’t yet within my grasp.
I thought of Heidi, and worried about her a little but, unless she wanted my company, she deserved her space. She’d been a godsend and saved me from sitting around the house watching Neil’s beard and toenails grow, and losing money. Now that he didn’t need a 24/7 babysitter, she deserved time for her own pursuits.
The first three customers gave me no trouble, offering up a fresh credit card number, expiry date, and security code without argument. I enjoyed a good fight, and deadbeat number four gave it to me.
Desiree referred to herself as the administrative clerk in a member of parliament’s office in Ottawa. She adamantly assured me the credit information she gave Belcourt Nurseries in June had been accurate. Her boss currently sat in caucus, very much valued by the Prime Minister. Not impressed. I told her to check her facts. The card had been declined. Next, she launched into a story designed to make me forget the $688.04 in white orchids sent to the Japanese Embassy. I didn’t care. Belcourt Nurseries wasn’t in the diplomatic or charity business. There may have been some suggestion on my part that the media might be interested in a possible case of international sucking up. I lacked fluency in political terminology, and wouldn’t use it anyway, not on a tapped line, but Desiree got the message. You wouldn’t believe how fast she offered up new credit information. If declined, I assured her I’d be talking to her soon. Possibly tomorrow. I gave my name as Sophie Mulroney.
Four for four. I loved this job.
I sent an email to Ivy advising her that all overdue accounts were paid in full. I checked the time, eager to leave before Glory found me and sent me on one of her fool’s errands, me being the fool.
The thought conjured up the Dark Diva herself. Her gold hoops swung against red-gold hair, and her sea-blue eyes stared fixedly at my clothes which never met with her approval.
“There’s a butterfly on your lab coat,” I told her. It’s always wise to get in a pre-emptive strike when dealing with Glory. It didn’t deflect her for long but sometimes long enough for me to make it to the door. This time, with her crowding me behind my desk, I had no place to go.
She brushed off the tiny, black and red butterfly without appearing to notice it. The stunned insect landed on the edge of my desk, its tiny wings in the closed position. That was one of the problems with the tropical garden — you never emerged without something clinging to you. Another butterfly, this one yellow and black, crawled along the top of her head. I didn’t mention that one. I’m considerate that way.
“I have a job for you this afternoon.” She brushed the sides of her hair, dislodging the yellow butterfly which backpedaled down the crown of her head and disappeared.
