Indiana Pulcinella Page 10

  He smiled, winking, putting his finger to his lips. She nodded, looking away. He hefted a green backpack he’d borrowed from Matt. Inside was an iPad borrowed from Dan, and a notebook and pencil he’d grabbed from his desk at work.

  Lane saw a pair of young women open the door to the lecture theatre and followed them inside. He found himself at the top of steps leading to a stage and lectern. The room was brightly lit. The pair ahead of him stepped down to a middle row, sidling left to sit dead centre in the room. They’re going to be right at Dr. Pierce’s eye level. He moved left, choosing a seat in the back row behind a guy wearing a football jacket and built like Lane’s stainless-steel fridge.

  More people arrived and began to fill up the theatre. Lane took off his jacket, hung it on the back of his chair, and reached into the backpack for the iPad and notebook. He opened the notebook, propped up the iPad, and used the pencil to doodle ideas. From time to time he’d glance up at the clock as the theatre gradually filled. He began to shift in his seat. I don’t know if I can sit here for ninety minutes.

  On his right, a woman of Christine’s age with long black hair took off her full-length black wool coat, smiling at him, then pointing at the chair between them. “Mind if I put my coat there?”

  Lane nodded, smiling back. “Of course not.”

  “Thanks.”

  A tall, lanky blond-haired man of about thirty-five entered from a door at stage right. He wore a green-and-white checked shirt, tight-fitting dark-grey slacks, and brown leather shoes. He stood behind the lectern, opened a textbook, leaned to one side to turn on the microphone, tapped it, and began to speak. “Today I’ll begin with a personal story, and then we’ll get to work on the characteristics of bullying.

  “When I was nineteen, I went into a bar in Macklin, Saskatchewan. Half an hour later a woman picked me up off the gravel in the parking lot, took me home in her Buick, and cleaned up the cuts on my face and knuckles. I remember she put a butterfly bandage here —” he pointed at his forehead “— as she told me, ‘You did a dance with those two guys. A dance that meant the moment you walked in the door I knew you would end up in the parking lot with a face like this.’ She was doing her doctoral research on aggressive human behaviours. I —” he pointed at his chest “— became a chapter in her dissertation.”

  He pressed a button. The screen behind him lit up. The cover of a book appeared. The title Unraveling the Human Puzzle was set above a picture of a group of human silhouettes with drinks in their hands. The black silhouettes were overlaid with white puzzle piece designs. Across the bottom of the page ran Dr. Andrew Pierce, PhD.

  “Bullies and their prey do a kind of dance.”

  From the right, a hand went up. Lane spotted the back and shoulders of a man of about forty whose black hair was thin on top and grey at the sides. Lane watched Pierce, who smirked as he acknowledged the man by holding out his hand for him to speak.

  The man pointed his finger at the screen. “I read the chapter, and in it you say the victim only has to realize he or she can stop the behaviours triggering the bully’s actions. Isn’t that a bit like blaming the victim?”

  Pierce looked at the pair of young women sitting at his eye level in the centre of the room. A brief smile appeared and disappeared. He lifted his eyebrows. “All the victim need do is recognize the signs, as I needed to do before I went into the bar in Macklin and as you —” He turned to face the man who’d asked the question.

  Through the microphone, Lane could hear every nuance in the professor’s voice. It’s filled with contempt.

  “— need to learn. There is a dance humans do to establish a hierarchy, and you need to learn your place within the hierarchy.”

  One of the young women sitting in front of the professor began to laugh, covering her mouth with her hand and leaning closer to her friend. She talked behind her hand.

  A broad smile profiled Pierce’s whitened teeth. “Even Darwin knew that natural selection favours those at the top of the food chain rather than those at the bottom.”

  The ears of the man who’d asked the question turned red. Then his scalp did the same.

  Lane watched the professor through narrowing eyes. He felt an inexplicable rage building. Tears formed in his eyes. He wiped at them with the index and fore fingers of his right hand. What the hell is my problem?

  The young woman sitting next to him handed him a tissue. She leaned in close. “Pierce is such a douche.”

  An hour later, when Lane left the theatre, he checked his phone for messages and found one from Arthur.

  “What?” Nigel sat across from Lane in their downtown office. The door was closed, and Lane was staring at his computer screen.

  Lane shook his head. “When will your contact have the information?”

  “When she’s done.”

  Lane turned to his partner. The aftermath of rage was still in his eyes. He’d been unable to walk it off after the twenty-minute trek to where he’d parked the car. Even the minus twenty temperature and a brisk wind out of the north had failed to cool his anger to the point where he could think clearly.

  Nigel’s eyes opened wider. He held his hands up in mock surrender. “That’s just the way she works. She’s done when she’s done. She lives in the basement suite of her house. Her parents live upstairs. Her mom likes to keep an eye on her.”

  “Her house! How does she make a living?” Don’t take it out on Nigel. He’s done nothing wrong.

  “Look.” Nigel leaned forward in his chair, still holding his hands up. “I don’t know. She always has the latest computer, cell phone, and iPad. She’s a Mac user. Won’t use anything else. She always looks well groomed. She never appears interested in the opposite sex — or the same sex, for that matter. She’s totally self-contained and has this compulsion to make the world a better place. I knew her when I went to junior high, but we became friends after my mom was killed. She didn’t ask any questions and didn’t feel sorry for me. Then she got suspended for a week. When she came back, I treated her the same way I always had. We just became friends. We hung out together. She helped me out with some stuff. What’s got you so pissed off anyway?”

  “Pierce.” Lane looked at the big screen and grabbed the mouse, highlighting the professor’s name, then enlarging his driver’s licence photo. “And my sister.”

  “What did Pierce do?”

  Lane took a long slow breath. “He was giving a lecture on the dynamics of bullying. This guy asked a question Pierce didn’t like, so Pierce belittled the guy in front of the class.”

  “That’s all?” Nigel looked sideways at Lane.

  Lane looked at Nigel, and his partner paled. “It was the way he did it. I can’t explain it. He’s giving a lecture to young people who will be teachers, and at the same time he’s bullying one of his students. It was the voice he used. The way he did it to impress a couple of the young women in class. The way some of them laughed. It was . . .”

  “Fucked up.”

  Lane almost laughed. “What’s a douche?”

  “What?”

  “Douche. The young woman next to me called Pierce a douche. What is it?”

  “Someone who comes across being all cool and tailor made, but is a real self-centred asshole underneath.”

  “Tailor made. That’s it. All of his clothes were tailor made. Even his shoes. How could he afford all of that? I mean, professors aren’t paid that well.” Lane looked at his partner.

  “And what about your sister?”

  “She’s back, and now she’s got some money behind her. Some organization called the Canadian Celestial Institute. I know she’ll use any means possible to punish Christine. She’ll do
whatever she thinks is necessary to take Indiana away.” Lane looked back at the screen, shaking his head. “And I can’t do a damn thing about it because Alison thinks she has God on her side.”

  But I can stop her. Nigel stood up. “It’s quittin’ time.”

  Lane nodded. “Okay.”

  Nigel handed Lane his jacket. Lane took it, walking out the door. Nigel hung back. “See you tomorrow.” He waited until Lane was out of sight, then took out his phone and typed a text message. “We need another meet.”

  Anna was waiting for him at eight thirty. She sat in the same chair at the Nose Hill Public Library. She was tapping the screen of her iPad with the forefinger of her right hand. Beside her, the pink tablet cover had VENEER & PLASTIC, PLASTIC & VENEER written across it.

  Nigel stood beside her.

  Without looking up, she said, “I planned on doing the job later tonight.”

  “I have another job for you. Remember how you got twenty percent for finding and transferring the funds my dad hid?” Nigel asked.

  Anna nodded.

  “I need you to transfer some money. This time, you do what you want with it. Just get it out of the hands of the people who have it.”

  “I need a reason.”

  “They’re trying to take a baby away from his mother.”

  “What’s the mother like?” Anna asked.

  “She’s the niece of a friend. She’s African Canadian. The people who want the baby think my friend’s a bad influence because he’s gay.”

  “Is he?”

  “Is he what?”

  “A bad influence?”

  “Just the opposite.”

  Anna nodded. “Got the information?”

  Nigel handed her a sheet of paper. Anna took it, reading the details. “I’ll work on it.” She slid the iPad in its cover.

  He pointed at the words written across the pink. “What’s that mean?”

  She smiled. “You’ll figure it out.” Anna pulled on her jacket, wrapped a scarf around her neck, and walked toward the door.

  Lane sat in the family room in one of the easy chairs. Dan sat next to Christine on the couch while she fed Indiana. Alex sat on the hearth with her back to the gas fireplace. Matt sat nearby. Arthur nestled in another easy chair. He was trying to watch celebrities dance, but Christine insisted the sound be muted. Alex pointed at the screen, putting her hand over her mouth. A blonde-haired celebrity dancer had a blacked-out breast. It had popped out of her low-cut sequined costume.

  Dan said, “I hope her partner doesn’t get hit by that thing. It could be a career ender.”

  Christine elbowed him.

  “Ouch.” Dan rubbed his ribs.

  “Why don’t you two go out now, and we’ll watch Indiana?” Alex had her hands tucked around her elbows.

  Christine shook her head. “I’m not leaving him alone.”

  Lane looked at Arthur, who was watching Christine intently.

  Matt asked, “You think we won’t take good care of him?”

  Dan looked at Christine, who was staring at Indiana. “That’s not it at all. We got news today. Alison is getting financial support from some organization so she can hire a lawyer and try to take Indy.”

  Lane watched Christine holding her son. Damn it, Alison. Don’t you know you’re pushing her away rather than bringing her closer?

  WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 29

  chapter 10

  Institute Promises to Pay Legal Fees for Trio Accused of Abduction

  A representative of the Canadian Celestial Institute says his organization stands behind the actions of three people charged with attempted child abduction.

  At a news conference on Tuesday, Orson Nelson announced the Institute will be funding legal defence costs for Efram Milton, Alison Milton, and Lyle Pratt, all currently in custody for an alleged abduction attempt earlier this month.

  “These folks were clearly acting in the best interests of the child when they entered the Foothills Medical Centre,” says Nelson, the self-declared president of the CCI.

  According to a statement on its website, the CCI “defends the right to religious freedom as set out in the Canadian Charter of Rights and the Constitution of the United States.”

  Story continues page B3

  “Would you be willing to give Donna a call this morning?” Lane sat to one side of Lori’s desk. He leaned forward, setting a cup of tea next to her phone.

  Lori took the tea and sipped, looking over Lane’s shoulder. “Nigel will be angry with me.”

  “And me.” Lane took the last sip from his coffee, tossing the paper cup in the trash.

  “She’s not a suspect?” Lori sat up, crossing one leg over the other. She wore a pair of tan leather boots reaching just below the knee of her black slacks.

  “What do you think?” Lane stuck his hands under his armpits. His fingers were still cold from the walk from the LRT station.

  “I’m not in your line of work, but —” Lori looked directly at Lane “— she doesn’t seem like she’s hiding anything or even capable of subterfuge. The impression I get of Donna is what you see is what you get.”

  “Then the next step is for me to talk with her, but it would help if I had you along to smooth the way.”

  Lori frowned. “I hadn’t realized you could be so calculating.”

  “It’s called catching a killer before more people are hurt.” Lane wondered about the defensive tone in his voice.

  “Just don’t be going over to the dark side. There’s been enough of that around here already.” She reached into her purse, pulled out a business card, held it up, and waved him away with her free hand. “Haven’t you got work to do?”

  Lane sprang up, stepping into his office. He sat down, started up his computer, and looked over the ever-expanding map of details connected to the Randall case. He began separate maps for Peggy Carr, Cori and Andrew Pierce, David and Melissa Randall, and Megan and Doug Newsome. Right now, Cori and Andrew are persons of interest. This needs to be ready if Nigel comes up with some evidence proving I’m wrong. My gut is telling me I’m right about the Pierces.

  Lori stuck her head in the door twenty minutes later. She wore a red wool coat with its lapels stuck up under her ears. The hem of the coat reached to the tops of her tan boots. “Nigel’s still at the doctor. Donna is at her house. She’s waiting to talk with a contractor. She says she’ll be there for an hour, maybe two. We need to go now.”

  Lori began doing up her buttons, then taking black leather mitts out of a voluminous black leather purse.

  Lane logged off, got up, and grabbed his winter coat.

  They shivered as the Chev’s heater blasted the windshield with cold air. Lane tried to breathe out of the corners of his mouth. Otherwise, his breath would fog up the inside of the glass, and they’d have to wait longer for the car to warm up. He looked right, seeing Lori’s passenger window fogging up. Why does the woman’s side of a vehicle always turn opaque?

  The tires rolled like squares until the corners warmed up. He watched the engine temperature as they drove along 6th Avenue. It nudged up above cold, beginning a slow climb as they drove west, then up the hill along Bow Trail beside the LRT tracks. By the time they reached Shaganappi Golf Course, the inside of the car was comfortably lukewarm, and they were able to open their coats.

  “So, if you can stop talking, maybe I can get a word in.” Lori pointed at a coyote running across the snow-covered fairway. “Looks like he’s not feeling the cold.”

  “Sorry. I’m trying to figure out what to do about my sister and her gang.” Lane glanced
at the coyote as it ran with its nose out front and the tip of its tail out back.

  “Doesn’t she have fifteen other kids to raise?”

  “I don’t know how many kids Alison has. But I wish she would leave Christine alone. She had the kid excommunicated and washed her hands of her. I don’t get why she has to keep punishing her daughter when she’s cut her off.” Lane passed a fourteen-storey high-rise, following the curve of the road when they began a gentle climb toward Coach Hill.

  “Because Christine was supposed to be learn her lesson. Instead Christine is going to school, she has a son, she’s doing just fine, and Alison can’t stand it because Christine was supposed to come crawling back. Alison wants control over Christine. But you and I both know that isn’t going to happen, so Alison has to punish her and you —” she poked Lane in the arm “— by trying to take Indiana away.”

  “You think that’s what it is?” Lane looked right at Lori.

  She nodded. “And because Alison is afraid.”

  “That too?”

  “Sure. She’s afraid of anything that doesn’t fit into her narrow little view of life, and you, my friend, definitely don’t fit into her idea of what she would call God’s plan.”

  “What does she think should happen?”

  Lori laughed. “You should be damned for your lifestyle, and Christine should be living a miserable life as punishment for her defiance. The opposite is happening, and it drives Alison crazy.”

  Lane shook his head as they climbed the steep grade up to the top of Coach Hill, then turned right into a residential area. “What makes you so sure that’s what she’s doing?”

  “My mother was the same way.” Lori turned to watch the numbers on the houses. “Donna said it was a brown two-storey with a couple of big evergreens out front.”