Smoked Page 12
Alexandra said, “It’s okay. Every time my dad had a fling and mom found out, she’d max out one of his credit cards. He’d always deny the fact that he was fooling around, then he would always pay the credit card bill without saying a word. It was understood. A family thing.”
“This family works differently.” Arthur turned to Christine. “No more running up the credit card bill.”
×
Maddy looked at the lock on her bedroom door. She looked at Andrea sleeping on the bed.
Maddy stood and walked from the desk to her sister. Her skin is so soft, she thought. Maddy brushed Andrea’s cheek with the back of her hand.
Andrea pushed away the hand at her cheek. Her eyes opened.
“Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you up later,” Maddy said.
Andrea stuck a thumb in her mouth and nodded once.
×
Lane looked at the luminous dial on his watch. It was after one o’clock. He looked up the alley until he spotted the silhouette of Harper, who waved once.
Lane withdrew to the shadow running from the wall to the dumpster, where the streetlights weren’t able to penetrate the night.
He sniffed the air, listened to a car driving along Kensington. Its tires hummed while its body slipped through the air. Across the river and downtown, he could hear a siren. It grew stronger, then weaker when it passed behind a building.
“Can we go home now? I’m tired.”
It’s the voice of a child, Lane thought.
“We’re almost home.”
A female. Definitely older than the first, Lane thought.
“Carry me.”
Lane stepped from the shadow and into the muted light of the streetlight. He glanced sideways and coughed. Harper waved, then disappeared as he moved into a recessed doorway.
“Kind of late for a little one.” Lane watched the older of the two. She was dressed in black. A piece of jewellery on one pierced ear glittered. She stopped. One hand held the little girl’s and the other a black over-the-shoulder bag. She’s about as tall as I am and looks to be seventeen or eighteen, Lane thought.
The little girl looked up at the older girl. “Who’s he?”
“Don’t know.” The older girl put her hand inside her shoulder bag.
Lane reached for his id. “I’m a detective with the city police.”
“My little sister was at a sleepover. She started crying, so she phoned, and asked me to come and get her.”
“I’m Detective Lane. The detective behind you is Harper.” Lane watched as the little one looked up at her older sister with a puzzled expression.
The older girl looked behind her as Harper moved into the middle of the alley about twenty metres away. She turned back to Lane. “So what?”
“So, we were hoping you’d introduce yourselves,” Lane said.
“I don’t think so.” The older girl moved forward.
Lane heard the fear in her voice and noticed that the knee tremors affected the way she walked.
“What’s the matter, Maddy?” the little girl said.
“Shh!” the older one said as she walked past Lane.
He turned to watch. They turned right and disappeared down Oxford Street.
Lane followed as far as the sidewalk, where he was able to observe their progress up the street.
Harper said, “Get a name?”
“The older one goes by Maddy.”
They watched the pair cross the street, walk to the end of the block, and turn left.
“Hey, look at what’s coming our way,” Harper said.
Lane looked east. The man on the bicycle was coasting toward them. He braked at the corner and turned toward Kensington Road. At the side of the brick building, he stopped. Then the rider leaned on his left leg and used his right hand to lift his right leg over the seat. With two practised tugs on a bungee cord, he released the crutch attached to the bike’s frame. He leaned over and reached into the saddlebag.
Lane thought, You can’t miss Leo. That’s what Harry said.Of course, this has to be him. Hiding right under our noses! He smiled.
Harper followed Lane, staying within the shadows.
They came upon Leo as he pulled out a can of spray paint and a Toblerone-sized marker from his saddlebag.
“Leo?” Lane asked.
Leo straightened, turned first to Lane, and then to Harper. “Good evening, officers.”
Lane watched Leo. The man was sinew and bone. His clothes hung loose on his frame. His eyes were bright with intelligence. Leo’s nose looked like it belonged to a bird. He was balancing on one foot because the withered right leg was several centimetres shorter than the left. The crutch was a couple of centimetres off the ground so that he could balance on his good leg.
He’s ready for a fight if it comes to that, Lane thought.
“We’re here for information, not to make an arrest,” Harper said.
Leo smiled, “I take it that if I tell you what you want to know, then I go free. If I don’t, I get arrested. Have I read the subtext correctly?” He turned his back to the wall so that he could watch both detectives at the same time.
Lane moved closer to Harper. This way we’re less of a threat because he has an avenue for escape.
A puzzled expression appeared on Leo’s face, then disappeared.
Harper leaned against the wall. The sound of tires on pavement passed, then hummed west along Kensington Road.
“Someone tagged a dumpster just down the alley. The tag identified the body of the person inside. We’re trying to find the artist.” Lane leaned against a transformer.
Leo studied the concrete at his feet. “What does that have to do with me?”
“We’ve checked around. You’re known to be the resident artist. We thought you might know some of the others who work this area,” Harper said.
“People do stuff for their own reasons. I don’t know why that dumpster was painted the way it was. And that’s all I can tell you.” Leo leaned on his crutch.
“We’re trying to catch a murderer. The victim was in her mid-twenties,” Harper said.
“Are you accusing me?” Leo asked.
“Are you guilty?” Lane thought, Don’t play games with me!
Leo smiled. “Not of murder, but I am guilty of graffiti.”
×
Maddy doubled back down the alley, turned left at their garage, and approached the back door.
She noted the pale blue light from the tv. Maddy reached into her pocket after putting her index finger to her lips. Andrea mimed the warning. The key slid easily into the lock. Maddy kept the lock lubricated with graphite just for nights like this. Maddy held her breath and opened the door. The muted sound of voices on the tv reached down the hall. In the living room, light flickered and faded on the wall.
Her mother lay on the floor in a puddle of bloody vomit. It looked to Maddy as if her mother’s hair had stuck to the drying mess.
“Mom?” Andrea said.
Maddy leaned over to check for a pulse at her mother’s neck. She held her breath and thought, There’s something there!
“Mom!” Andrea said.
Maddy’s mind raced. Get Andrea out of here! “Andrea. Go to the kitchen and run a cloth under the tap. I’ll come and get it! You stay there.”
Andrea scampered down the hall and turned on the light in the kitchen.
Maddy looked around her, reached for the phone, and dialed 911.
TUESDAY, MAY 13
chapter 15
“We’ve got another message.” Harper’s phone voice sounded rough at ten o’clock in the morning.
Lane opened one eye to see the shaft of light peeking between the curtains. “How’d we miss it? What’s it say?”
“It was across the street from where we were. It says, ‘Jennifer wasn’t the first. She won’t be the last’.”
Lane sat up in bed. “Is Fibre on it?”
“There already. There’s something else.”
Lane’s feet touched
the floor. He rubbed his face with his free hand. Think!
“That ambulance we saw last night. I checked the address. The house belongs to a Dr. Joseph Jones. His wife was taken to the hospital. I made some calls, and she’s in detox for at least a week.”
“The same Dr. Jones?”
“That’s right, and he has two daughters. One is seventeen. The other is five.”
“Is one of them named Maddy?” Lane asked.
“Madeline is the oldest and Andrea the youngest.”
Lane thought, This is way too close to home to be one big coincidence!
×
“Detective Lane?”
Lane adjusted the cell phone against his ear. “That’s right.”
“Chief Smoke here. Any updates?”
Lane hesitated. “We’re in the process of checking out several promising leads.”
“Good! Your work in the past has been exemplary. So many high-profile cases solved. You’re an asset to our police force and the community.”
“Thank you, sir.” It sounds like he’s slurring his words. He can’t be drunk before lunch, Lane thought.
The chief cleared his throat. “There’s a promotion in the works, and your name is at the top of my list when this case is wrapped up.”
I wonder what you’ll say when you find out a drinking buddy of yours is a suspect, Lane thought.
“Just remember, this case is your priority. Get back to me with any new developments.” The chief hung up.
That’s one order I don’t think I’ll be able to follow, Lane thought.
×
“Is Mom okay? Can we go visit her?” Andrea wore a pink jacket, pink shoes, pink pants, and matching backpack. She’d insisted on the outfit. She held tightly to Maddy’s hand.
“Not for a while.” Maddy looked across the open field as they approached Andrea’s elementary school, which was situated next to Maddy’s high school.
“Why?” Andrea looked up at her big sister.
“She’s sick.”
“Booze and pills. Booze and pills.” Andrea sang it.
Maddy stopped, crouched down, and looked her little sister in the eye. “Please don’t sing that at school.” All we need is another rumour going around.
Andrea shook her head, looking very adult for an instant. “Okay.”
After getting Andrea to school, Maddy entered her school through the door near the parking lot under the library. She walked down an empty hallway and past the office, looking neither right as she hatched an excuse for being late for English class.
“Madeline?”
She continued on, cursing under her breath, hoping to make it to the stairs. I should have been listening to music! she thought.
“Madeline?”
She turned as a hand tapped her on the shoulder. “Yes?”
Ms. McMurphy, who was a head shorter than Maddy, smiled beneath her mustache. “Got a minute?”
“Actually, I’m late for English.” Maddy cocked a thumb over her shoulder.
Ms. McMurphy gestured for Maddy to follow. “Don’t worry. I’ll give you a note for being late.”
Maddy followed her into the main office and into McMurphy’s office. The assistant principal waited for Maddy to sit down at a round table before shutting the door.
McMurphy smiled and sat down across from Maddy.
Half the west wall was windows. Maddy closed her eyes, feeling the sunlight on her face.
“I pulled your file. Very impressive. Honours average. Your teachers rave about your work.”
Maddy yawned and looked out the window.
“Still, I’m worried,” McMurphy said.
Maddy shrugged. It’s best not to say anything. If you say anything, it’s like opening a door. Once she’s in there, who knows what she’ll find out. Maddy felt sweat gathering along her hairline and under her arms. She crossed her legs.
“You do very well. And yes, I heard about what happened in guidance. I also heard about the ambulance.”
Maddy felt rage shake her. “That’s none of your damned business! Just like it was none of his damned business! How can you have someone like him working in a school? How do you think he found out about those pictures?”
McMurphy’s face was a mask. She waited.
Maddy sat back. There, you did it. You opened the door! Fool!
“I’ve heard about the pictures, too. Can we talk about them?”
Maddy closed her mouth and her mind, to allow her to go where she always went at times like these. To the beach in Mexico where her mother played with her in the waves. Where they were safe. Where they laughed. Where her mother was sober.
“And you take care of your little sister. She’s devoted to you and you to her, but…”
Don’t complete her sentence for her! Maddy thought.
McMurphy smiled.
Don’t open your mouth!
McMurphy crossed her legs.
It’s a trap!
McMurphy looked at her fingernails.
What if I can’t stop what’s planned for Friday? “My mom is in detox for at least a week. My dad never came home last night. Who else is there to take care of Andrea?”
McMurphy didn’t blink, didn’t look away, and waited.
Maddy thought, Didn’t you hear what I just said? Keep your mouth shut! Rage curled up and swelled inside of her. It rolled over top of her defenses to crash over every other thought, every other emotion. She held her hand over her mouth, stood, opened the door to McMurphy’s office, stepped through the door and slammed it. Glass rattled up and down the corridor. The secretaries looked up, startled, and, Maddy realized, a bit afraid.
×
“Detective Lane?”
Lane didn’t recognize the voice on his cell phone. He glanced at Harper who was negotiating the car through road construction. “That’s correct.”
“It’s Leo. Remember?”
Lane took the phone away from his ear, looked at call display, memorized the number, and said, “I remember.”
“I thought about what you said.”
“And?”
Harper slowed the car and stopped behind a cement truck.
Leo said, “Be on the lookout for two sisters.”
“Could you give me just a bit more to go on? The quicker we can finish this, the less chance there is that someone else will be hurt.”
There was quiet for a full thirty seconds. “One is in high school, and the other in kindergarten. They live close by. Things aren’t as perfect as they seem.”
The connection ended.
×
“How’s your wife?” Lane sat across from Doctor Joseph Jones in his back-room office. Lane sensed Harper was waiting to ask a few questions of his own.
“My wife?” Dr. Jones looked only slightly more puzzled than he’d been when they walked through the empty waiting room past a dozing Ramona and into his office.
“Yes, your wife,” Harper said.
Lane thought, Harper’s angry, and when he’s angry his questions often tip the suspect off balance. Let’s see how it will work this time.
“She’s at home.” The doctor leaned back and smiled as if he’d just got the joke.
Harper’s anger cut its way into the pauses between the words. “It’s our understanding that she’s in detox after an ambulance rushed her to emergency late last night.”
“That’s impossible,” Dr. Jones said.
“Impossible or not, she’s been admitted.” Harper leaned his hands on Jones’ desk. “Where were you last night, then?”
Jones’ cheeks and ears flushed red. He looked over Lane’s shoulder at the door, then out the window as if measuring the distance.
“It’s a simple question, Mr. Jones,” Lane said.
The door opened. Lane and Harper turned. Dr. Paul Stephen stood in the doorway.
Lane watched as Stephen made eye contact with Jones. Both dentists wore neatly trimmed goatees and designer labels. But there was something different in Stephen�
��s blue eyes. Lane felt he was in the company of a salesman about to begin working the room, putting a spin on the facts.
“Did you want me to join the meeting?” Dr. Stephen asked.
“Not at this time,” Harper said.
“Yes!” Jones began to stand up but was stopped by a glare from Stephen. “The detectives are trying to find out what happened to Ms. Towers.”
“You’re still looking for the murderer?” Dr. Stephen asked.
Lane heard the sarcasm in Stephen’s voice, but ignored the implied superiority, the suggestion that the detectives could be doing a better job. “That’s correct.”
“We had nothing to do with that. Her boyfriend, however, was quite unpredictable. It is in our best interests for you to quickly bring the person responsible to justice.” Stephen crossed his arms and leaned against the door jam.
Harper shifted in his seat to get a better look at the second dentist. “Jennifer’s boyfriend has an alibi.”
“There must be some mistake!” Jones looked at Harper and worked at keeping his composure. “Jennifer was often fearful of her boyfriend. And, in confidence, she said as much to both of us.” The dentist looked at his partner.
Dr. Stephen nodded. “Yes, she was quite fearful of him.”
How come Stephen’s tone of voice and posture have shifted? Lane thought.
“There’s no mistake about the alibi. The witness is quite certain. That’s why we’re back here talking with you two.” Harper smiled at Stephen.
Lane thought, It’s remarkable how alike the doctors look. I wonder who imitates who? Then he looked at the family portrait on the shelf to one side of Jones’ desk. He hid his recognition of the daughters in the photo.
Jones’ voice allowed condescension to creep into his voice. “We all know that witnesses are notoriously unreliable. Might I suggest that you also check the credentials of this witness who provided such a questionable alibi?”
×
Lane’s phone rang as they drove east along Crowchild Trail.
“Hello.”
“Dr. Weaver here.”
Lane glanced at Harper and mouthed, “Fibre.” Harper nodded.
“Good morning,” Lane said.
“I am still unable to determine the exact cause of death, which continues to be an indicator in and of itself.” Fibre spoke with his patented toneless delivery.