Foxed Read online

  Foxed

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  FOR MORE ON THESE AND OTHER TITLES, VISIT NEWESTPRESS.COM

  Garry Ryan

  FOXED

  A Detective Lane Mystery

  NEWEST PRESS

  COPYRIGHT © GARRY RYAN 2013

  All rights reserved. The use of any part of this publication reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, or stored in a retrieval system, without the prior consent of the publisher is an infringement of the copyright law. In the case of photocopying or other reprographic copying of the material, a licence must be obtained from Access Copyright before proceeding.

  LIBRARY AND ARCHIVES CANADA CATALOGUING IN PUBLICATION

  Ryan, Garry, 1953–

  Foxed : a Detective Lane mystery / Garry Ryan.

  Issued also in an electronic format. ISBN 978-1-927063-40-8

  I. Title.

  PS 8635.Y35 4F69 2013 C813’.6 C2013-901572-8

  Editor for the Board: Leslie Vermeer

  Cover and interior design: Natalie Olsen, Kisscut Design

  Cover photo: (Footprints) © Fancy Photography/Veer (Fox) © Johner Photography/Veer

  Author photo: Luke Towers

  NeWest Press acknowledges the support of the Canada Council for the Arts, the Alberta Foundation for the Arts, and the Edmonton Arts Council for our publishing program. We acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund for our publishing activities.

  #201, 8540–109 Street

  Edmonton, Alberta T6G 1E6

  780.432.9427

  www.newestpress.com

  No bison were harmed in the making of this book.

  printed and bound in Canada

  for

  INDY,

  ELLA

  and

  ISAAC

  Contents

  chapter 1

  chapter 2

  chapter 3

  chapter 4

  chapter 5

  chapter 6

  chapter 7

  chapter 8

  chapter 9

  chapter 10

  chapter 11

  chapter 12

  chapter 13

  chapter 14

  chapter 15

  chapter 16

  chapter 17

  chapter 18

  Acknowledgments

  MONDAY, AUGUST 1

  chapter 1

  Lane sat on a bench, inhaled fresh Rocky Mountain air and smiled at the painting of reflected peaks on the surface of Lac Beauvert. He rubbed his right hand over his short brown hair and stretched his lean six-foot frame. A goose flapped its wings, accelerated, began to step lightly on the water and then rose into the air. He watched the bird’s image and its wake ripple across the mountains reflected on the water. The evening sun made the lake’s surface into sparkling diamonds and emeralds.

  The food, the coffee, the mountain air. I haven’t felt this relaxed in a long time, he thought. He wiggled his toes in his sandals and wiped at a speck of lint on his grey slacks.

  “Shit!”

  Lane turned.

  Christine put one hand on the back of the bench, lifted her right running shoe and looked at the sole from over her shoulder. His six-foot-tall niece was wearing a white sleeveless blouse, baggy white shorts and cream-in-your-coffee skin.

  Lane looked around. Every male and every other female within shouting distance were looking their way. He could read their minds.

  Christine dragged her shoe over the grass. “There’s goose shit everywhere! How could geese have that much crap in them?” She looked out over the water at a Canada goose being followed by five goslings and cooed, “Awww. Do you see that? Aren’t they cute?” Christine pointed at the family. She handed Lane his cell phone.

  He stuffed it in his shirt pocket.

  The invasive rumble of unmuffled exhaust pipes made them look left.

  A pair of low-slung motorcycles approached along the road leading to the lodge entrance. Both riders wore black leather, ample bellies, sunglasses, tattoos and black helmets. The lead rider eased off on the throttle. The second rider spotted Christine.

  The second rider promptly forgot about his front-running riding partner. There was a scream of metal. One engine raced, the other stalled and both bikes fell over. A second engine died.

  The riders got to their feet in the sudden quiet. One looked hopefully in Christine’s direction.

  Christine looked at the wreckage. “What were they looking at?”

  Lane smiled. “You.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? You think it’s my fault?” Christine frowned.

  Lane thought, Quick, change the subject. “Where are Matt and Dan?”

  “Swimming.” Christine looked over her shoulder at the pool. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  Lane stood up. “No, I don’t think it was your fault! You’re drop-dead gorgeous and oblivious to the fact. Arthur’s having a nap. If you get him, I’ll get the other two and we’ll go get something to eat.”

  The five of them met for dinner. The table overlooked the lake and the surrounding mountains tipped with white.

  Matt had lost weight, was shaving every day and wore his black hair cut short. He said, “It would be nice to stay for a few more days.”

  Christine said, “You know, this is the first time I’ve been to Jasper. And the first time I’ve seen a grizzly.”

  Daniel, her brown-haired boyfriend, was taller than Christine, slender and introverted. He was finally beginning to feel relaxed enough around Lane to open up. “The grizzly was incredible.”

  Lane nodded. “It was a thing of beauty. A hunter.” It’s good to be talking about bears instead of cancer, surgery, scarring, fatigue and what the last doctor had to say.

  “Okay, tell us what you’re thinking.” Arthur looked out over the water. His new exercise program was beginning to pay off. His belt had two old cinch lines in the leather to prove it. It hadn’t, however, helped him grow back the hair atop his tanned head.

  “I was thinking how it’s good for all of us to be here. I was thinking I’m glad you don’t have to have chemo. And I was thinking we should go to California next. Maybe San Diego.” Lane looked around the table, gauging the reactions of four people.

  “Can Daniel come?” Christine asked.

  “Can we stay close to the beach?” Matt asked.

  Lane’s phone began to vibrate in his shirt pocket.

  Arthur smiled. “That’s not what I asked you. That’s not what you were thinking. You just changed the subject again.”

  “You really want to know what I think of grizzlies?” Lane asked.

  He felt their curiosity pique and the resultant attention shift in his direction.

  Lane ignored
his phone. “The bear was afraid of us, yet we fear it. It’s a hunter. It’s very good at what it does. And it makes us feel like prey. Still, we’re not the endangered species.”

  “Like you,” Matt said. “You’re a hunter.”

  “And people fear you,” Daniel said.

  Lane picked the phone out of his pocket and flipped it open.

  Christine grabbed it from him and put it to her ear. “Hello?” She slapped Lane’s hand away as he reached to take the phone back. “Hi, Keely. How are you? Yes, we’ll be back tomorrow. Probably in the afternoon.” She listened for a minute, then said, “I’ll pass the message along. He’s right here, but we were in the middle of a good conversation, and he was using your call as an excuse to avoid answering a tough question. You know how he avoids answering the questions he doesn’t want to answer? I’ll get him to call you right back.”

  “What’s up?” Lane asked.

  “I’ll tell you when we finish this conversation.” Christine curled her fingers around the phone.

  “Could I have my phone back, please?” Lane motioned with his open right hand.

  “No.” She put the phone on the table, covered it with a napkin and put her hands over top.

  Lane looked at Arthur, who was getting his spark back after a double mastectomy. It had been a long haul. There was the shock of the diagnosis, the operation and recovery from surgery, then the chemo and all of those lovely side effects.

  Arthur said, “She wants some answers. You expect the same from us. Remember your big speech about us being honest with one another?”

  “Okay. What do you want to know?” Lane refilled his coffee from the carafe at the centre of the table.

  “Do you admire the grizzly because it’s a hunter like you?” Matt asked.

  “Or because it’s feared and misunderstood?” Arthur asked.

  “What about the fact that it’s nearly extinct?” Christine asked.

  Lane joined in on the laughter.

  Daniel said, “Of course it’s not because male grizzlies sometimes kill male cubs.”

  Christine glared at Daniel. “How did you know that was what the call was about?”

  Christine will forever be leaping to conclusions after the way she was mistreated in Paradise, Lane thought, then asked, “About what?”

  “Keely said they found the body of a missing boy. She thinks it may be related to one of your unsolved cases.” Christine lifted the napkin and handed him the phone.

  TUESDAY, AUGUST 2

  chapter 2

  After breakfast, Matt and Christine insisted on sharing the driving duties for the five-hour trip home. Christine drove the first leg along the mountain valley parkway south to Lake Louise. For the most part, the two-lane highway ran between two mountain ranges. At one point, the road climbed up to the Columbia Icefield. Fresh snow on the mountaintops reminded them that even summer in the Rockies is temperamental. They reached Lake Louise, stopped for gas and then drove east, descending into the foothills. Matt drove the second leg.

  Daniel and Christine snored with a wide-awake Arthur sitting next to Christine and the window. He listened to music with his eyes closed.

  Lane closed his eyes and remembered the picture of Zander Rowe. The boy was eleven when he disappeared. He left school one day and never made it home. His older brother, Robert, was in jail at the time. Lane wondered if Robert was still inside. Lane closed his eyes and could see the faces of the father and the mother. Mrs. Rowe sat there quietly, numb with shock. The father went on and on about problems with the justice system. He kept saying, “Fuckin’ cops,” over and over.

  “So, it was as you thought. Zander was dead before you even began to work on the case,” Arthur said.

  Lane nodded. “Looks that way. I wish you would stop your annoying habit of reading my mind.” He turned in his seat so that he could see Arthur.

  Matt checked the rear-view mirror.

  “It’s not all that difficult. Ever since you talked with Keely, you’ve had that look in your eyes.” Arthur looked at Matt’s eyes in the mirror and asked, “Are you sure you want to hear this?”

  Matt shrugged. “I can drive and think at the same time.”

  Arthur chuckled. “That’s not what I meant. Zander was eleven years old, and Lane couldn’t find any trace of the boy. A couple of months after the boy disappeared, his older brother killed someone in prison. We both thought the disappearance and the murder were connected. It was suspected that the older brother had been involved in at least two drive-by shootings and two killings. Lane thought the younger brother was killed out of revenge for one of those gang killings.”

  “It’s beginning to look like I was right,” Lane said.

  “Then where will you start?” Matt asked.

  “First we have to be sure that the body is Zander’s. Then we’ll see if any of the original suspects are in some way connected to the location of the body.” Lane looked out the window. They dropped into the valley. His ears popped, and he swallowed to equalize the pressure.

  “The trail is ten years old,” Arthur said.

  “A body can change all of that with the evidence it provides,” Lane said.

  An hour later, they neared home. Matt turned off the main street. On their right, a sandstone retaining wall stepped up three levels — a stairway to the houses looking down on the rest of the neighbourhood. The stuccoed houses with red-tiled roofs were situated along the edges of a private eighteen-hole golf course.

  “What’s going on?” Christine asked, having woken up.

  Four men pointed long-lens cameras at the rock wall. A row of cars was parked along the far side. Spectators faced the wall.

  Matt slowed and stopped.

  “What are they doing?” Lane asked.

  Arthur tapped Lane on the shoulder. “Over there.”

  Lane saw a red fox approaching the rough of the golf course. It looked thinner than it should be at the height of the season.

  The fox leapt up to the first level of the retaining wall.

  “What’s that in its mouth?” Christine asked.

  “Looks like a gopher,” Matt said.

  Four kits appeared from crevices in the wall. While their mother looked emaciated, they looked plump with thick and fluffy red coats. Her coat was thinning to black on her haunches.

  The mother dropped the gopher. There was a snapping of camera shutters. The kits went for the carcass and proceeded to rip it apart.

  “How will the kits be able to survive here?” Lane asked.

  Daniel said, “We’re missing the obvious. The kits look like they’re doing just fine. It’s the parent who looks unlikely to make it to the end of the summer.”

  WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 3

  chapter 3

  “Mochaccino?” Keely asked.

  Lane took the cup, passed it under his nose and savoured the aromatic blend of coffee and chocolate. “Thanks. My turn next.” He looked at the chain-link fence that surrounded the various police vehicles in the downtown lot.

  Keely had her chestnut hair cut short and wore a navy jacket and slacks. She held out the car keys. “You wanna drive?”

  “You drive. You’ve already been there.” Lane walked around the rear of the Chev and got in the passenger side. “I like the new hairstyle.”

  Keely sat behind the wheel, flicked her fingers over the top of her close-cropped head and said, “I’m getting used to it.” She started the car.

  “Thinking of joining the Marines?” Lane put his seat belt on.

  “Nothing like that.” She put her seat belt on, put the car into drive and eased out of the lot, ignoring his attempt at humour.

  Lane sipped his coffee and waited.

  “Look, I’ll explain the hair later. Right now I need to get you up to speed about Zander Rowe.” Keely headed for Memorial Drive and away from the downtown core.

  “Okay.”

  “The guy who found the room — where the body was found — moved into the building two weeks ago.
He and his wife are starting up a brake and alignment shop.” Keely shoulder checked before accelerating onto Memorial Drive and following it along the northern bank of the Bow River.

  “What’s his name?”

  “Gordon.”

  Lane looked toward the river. Cyclists, joggers and walkers shared the paved paths on either side — well, shared it most of the time. When they didn’t, an altercation would break out, and that thin layer of civility would peel away like plastic wrap covering spoiled food. “Can I work from this point on, then compare notes and impressions afterwards? That way I begin with fewer preconceptions.”

  “Sure.” Keely pantomimed zipping her lips.

  Lane met Gordon fifteen minutes later. Three thousand kilograms balanced over his head. He was working on a rusted pickup on a hoist. All four tires leaned against the wall.

  Lane inhaled a mixture of grease, oil, brake fluid, gasoline and road dust. Better than what I was expecting, Lane thought.

  Keely stepped through the office door on the upper level. She said, “Hello, I’m Detective Saliba,” and closed the door behind her.

  “Gordon?” Lane asked.

  Gordon was working on a front rotor of the pickup. He turned, spotted the detective and said, “That’s right.”

  “I’m Detective Lane.” He studied Gordon’s round features and the smile lines around his eyes. He was six foot four and more than two hundred pounds. He’s got arms like a weightlifter.

  Gordon turned and wiped his hands down the front of his blue coveralls. He wore a red ball cap with a Boston Red Sox logo.

  Let’s get this party started, Lane thought. “How did you find the room?” The detective glanced to his left in the direction of the stairs leading down to the lower level. The opening was taped off. He could see Dr. Weaver in his white bunny suit stepping out of a doorway. The doctor had a paper bag in his hand.

  “An old friend came by a couple of days ago. He told me not to park any vehicles in the corner.” Gordon pointed to a triangle of cement void of equipment.