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  Harper put his beer down and looked at his watch. “What’s up?”

  “It looks like there’s a leak. I ran into the premier at a restaurant the other day and she recognized me. We interviewed the solicitor general today and he was ready for us.” Lane took a sip of tea, then refilled his cup.

  Harper nodded and looked at the ceiling. “There is something going on. But I haven’t got a handle on it yet. I mentioned our conversation to Simpson and no one else.”

  “What about Rogerson?” Lane glanced at the jade elephant near the cash register and smiled as he recalled its secret.

  Harper shook his head. “No idea. Unless of course he is in contact with Brett Mara and the other so-called investors who want to bring Mi Casa Su Casa into the province.”

  “Nigel’s done some research and discovered that private companies like MCSC have been major contributors to the ruling party.”

  “Doesn’t surprise me, and it’s probably all legal.”

  Lane raised his eyebrows.

  “I know, it stinks.” Harper leaned back as his bowl of noodles topped with chicken and egg rolls arrived. “But it’s legal.”

  Lane’s satay beef noodle soup arrived and he inhaled the sharp sweet scents of satay, green onions, coconut milk and chili peppers. He grabbed his chopsticks and picked up a slice of beef and some noodles.

  Harper picked at his food. “Lately, all the actions I should be taking seem to take a back seat to politics.”

  Lane leaned on his elbows. “How are the kids?”

  “Growing like crazy. When I get home, I’m just Dad.” Harper smiled. “How is your brood? I’ve been wondering what Indiana will call you.” He picked up a slice of chicken with his chopsticks and popped it in his mouth.

  “He’ll come up with something.” Lane picked up the spoon and scooped up some broth.

  “Maybe he’ll call you Lane as well.”

  Lane shrugged as he savoured the spices in the broth. “He gives great hugs and he doesn’t throw up as much as he used to.”

  “More fun is yet to come.” Harper pointed his chopsticks at his old partner. “I’ll find out what I can from my end. The leak has me worried. I’d really like to plug that first.”

  Lane nodded. “Lori knows all of the secretaries. I’ll check with her and see what she can find out. They usually know more about what’s going on than anyone else.”

  Walter pressed the button on the slot machine. He sat next to his daughter, who turned to smile at him. Her black hair was greying. Her brown eyes were bright. She nudged him with her elbow.

  He turned back to his machine just in time to see the last bar fall into line. His arms shot up in the air and he almost fell off his stool. Linda’s hand was on his shoulder and it steadied him. “Cash out, Dad.”

  Walter pressed another button and a piece of paper rolled out of an opening. “Five thousand. We won five thousand dollars!”

  He opened his eyes and looked around the room. The empty bed beside him. The flat-screen TV in front. The pictures of Linda and his wife on the table next to the bed. He looked down at his hand and the permanent purple-bruised colour of its flesh. There was no slip of paper between his fingers. What was worse was remembering that Linda was gone — dead for more than a year.

  SATURDAY, JUNE 29

  chapter 13

  Lane woke up to the sun shining along the vertical gap in the burgundy curtains of their bedroom. He looked at the clock. It was after nine and he could hear activity in the kitchen. Coffee sputtered from the espresso machine. Indiana pounded a fist on the table of his high chair. A dish clattered and the dishwasher door shut.

  “Indiana!” Christine said.

  Lane looked up at the ceiling, threw back the covers and headed for the bathroom.

  Fifteen minutes later he went downstairs wearing a T-shirt and shorts.

  Indiana smiled despite wearing puréed carrots on his cheeks and chin and in his eyebrows. Christine wore a white top and red fleece pajama bottoms. She snuck up on her son with a washcloth. His head twisted from side to side as he attempted to avoid the clean-up.

  “Where is everyone?” Lane asked.

  Christine grabbed the catches on either side of the high chair, pulled the table away, undid the seat belt and lifted Indiana out. “Arthur went shopping. Matt and Dan are at work. Want a coffee?”

  Lane lifted his eyebrows and reached for Indiana.

  Christine smiled. “I know, stupid question.” She turned to the espresso machine, reached for the portafilter, turned on the coffee grinder, filled the basket, then locked it in place. Steam erupted, milk was heated until it frothed, coffee spluttered and the ingredients were carefully mixed. One cup was handed to Lane. Christine sipped from the other. She’d left a leaf design on top of his latte. “How about we go for a walk after I get him ready?”

  “Okay.” This is perfect. I love having one of these at home. Lane sipped his coffee and popped a couple of slices of bread into the toaster. Twenty minutes later they had Sam on a leash, Indy in the stroller and the sun on their faces. They walked down the paved pathway across the street from the separate school where a sign announced that non-Catholics could inquire about registering. Indy’s eyelids began to droop as Sam tugged at the leash. It was tied to the handle of the three-wheeled stroller. The leaves of mature poplar trees shaded the pathway and the temperature hovered around twenty-five.

  A tan-and-white boxer approached. It stared down Sam, who began to jump and howl. The boxer hit the end of its leash and began to bark. Christine grabbed Sam’s leash, then rolled him on his back and held her hand on his chest until he calmed. The boxer’s owner tapped his walking stick on the concrete as he passed without saying a word or making eye contact. Sam stopped wriggling and whimpering after the man and his boxer disappeared around a corner. “You done?” Christine asked Sam as she let him up. He shook the dust off his back and sat.

  “Where did you learn that trick?” Lane leaned over to see how Indy was doing. The baby had the end of a nylon strap in his mouth. There was drool on his chin.

  “Paradise. One of the women there really knew how to handle dogs and she showed me how to grab a leg and roll them on their backs to calm things down.” She walked ahead. Sam began to pull. Christine tugged the leash sideways and he slowed. “How are you doing?”

  Lane shrugged. “All right.”

  “Everyone keeps asking how you are after what happened with Pierce. I don’t know what to tell them.” Christine looked at her uncle and waited.

  She asked so just tell her the truth. “More and more I’m beginning to understand that I did my job. For the first few weeks I kept thinking about what I could have done to prevent what happened, but —” he saw she was holding her lips tight, and he shook his head “— I dealt with what was in front of me. He was going to shoot one of the boys and he had to be stopped.”

  “Matt says he shot at you first and missed.”

  Lane nodded and shrugged. “He got one shot off and it hit the wall next to me. The next three shots were from my weapon.”

  “Three?”

  “Even after being shot, a person can keep going if there’s enough adrenalin in his system.” He shuddered with a flashback. Pierce lifted his gun. Lane put a round in the professor’s eye, life left the body and it collapsed.

  “Sorry. You just turned white.”

  Lane took a long slow breath. “It’s okay. I don’t mind talking with you. You listen. There are still flashbacks. Now they come less frequently.”

  Christine waited for him to say more as they took another half dozen steps forward.

  Lane said, “Part of my problem was how easy it was to take a life. For a while I wondered what made me any different from the people I hunt down. Then there was this nagging doubt about how I might react if a similar situation came along.”

  “React?”

  “It might be easier if there’s a next time. That worries me.”

  “Or more difficult. What else?
”

  Lane looked at his niece thoughtfully. When did our roles reverse? How long have you been taking care of me? Maybe now we just take care of each other. “When I know what it is that’s bothering me, I’ll tell you, okay? Right now I’m not exactly sure what it is.”

  Walter sat next to the birdcage in the atrium and watched the expressions on the faces of people walking by. Laura and Shauday walked by with lunches in hand. They wore peach tops and bottoms today. Both still had black hair extensions. They looked left at the birds. They must be pretty loud today. Glad I can’t hear the noisy buggers. Walter looked at the budgies and watched their beaks.

  Brett and his spring-loaded clogs passed by. Walter used the palm of his left hand to push the tire of his left wheel. He finally managed to swing the chair so he could see Brett approach Cora, who smiled in recognition. She sat in one of the green wingback chairs. That’s one good thing about the wheelchair, Walter thought. With all of the incontinence — what’s wrong with saying shit and piss anyway? — going on around here, sitting in one of those fabric-covered chairs is never a good idea.

  Brett grabbed a nearby rattan chair by the arms and moved it so he sat across from Cora. He reached into the pocket of his shirt and pulled out a piece of paper. Walter watched Cora’s smile fade to be replaced by wide-eyed horror. She mimicked Brett when he mimed zipping his lips. Brett folded the paper and put it back in his pocket. He leaned forward and took Cora’s hands. She nodded as he spoke. Then Brett got up, nodded at her and walked away. Cora put her hands in her lap and looked at Walter without seeing him.

  Walter tapped his belly with the palm of his right hand and felt the plastic wrapped patch under his shirt and wondered if one fentanyl patch would be strong enough to finish Brett.

  Anna wore a fitted red T-shirt with black slacks and had her blonde hair tied at the back. Nigel had first met her at high school. Now they were dating. She was also Nigel’s go-to cyber source. She sat across from Nigel, who wore a mauve shirt and grey shorts, beside the window of the Holy Grill, a restaurant across the street from Mountain Equipment Co-op. They were just south of downtown and its gold-and-blue towers.

  It was after one and the lunch crowd had thinned. All three nearby tables were empty.

  Anna leaned closer. “I did some checking into Mi Casa Su Casa. Just nibbling around the edges. Nothing serious.”

  Nigel frowned and looked around to see if anyone was listening in. A couple with a toddler was busy trying to feed a moving target. A retired couple sat across from each other. He read the paper; she read the front page. Nigel said, “I was told not to involve you.”

  “I was very careful. Their financial statements to shareholders just do not add up. I used their own numbers and it looks like they are making them up. They must be operating some kind of Ponzi scheme because the money they’re paying back to shareholders is not sustainable. It looks like the CEO is trying to hook new investors with promises of returns in the neighbourhood of twenty percent. I looked into the CEO’s investments, and she just purchased a property in the Caymans.” Anna leaned back, waiting for Nigel’s reaction.

  He nodded. “No extradition treaty.”

  “One of the guys who scammed gold investors in Calgary still lives in the Caymans.”

  “Nigel!” The chef behind the chrome-and-glass counter set up three plates.

  Anna got up and Nigel followed. They returned with a blackened chicken burger for her, Thai chicken soup for him and a bowl of fries to share.

  Anna took a bite of her burger and waited for Nigel to try his soup before covering her mouth. She said, “You’ve been really quiet this last month. What’s the problem?”

  Nigel savoured the mixture of spices, chicken and squash, then swallowed. “I’m just trying to be a bit less of a big mouth.” He smiled. “I’m trying to think before saying something.”

  “It sounds to me like you’re trying to avoid talking about what’s really bothering you.”

  Nigel shrugged. “It’s no big deal.” He frowned and stared at the opposite wall.

  “Then why are you acting so different?”

  Nigel put down his spoon. “I don’t know.”

  Anna set her burger down. Her voice dropped to a whisper and she pointed her finger at him. “Bullshit! Let me know what’s going on in there!” She pressed her forefinger against his forehead. “You are becoming more and more distant. You were like this after what happened to your mom. It must have been two years before you emerged from that dark place.”

  Nigel’s eyes focused and he made eye contact with her. “I keep having flashbacks of Lane shooting that guy.”

  Anna leaned back. The blush of anger disappeared from her cheeks and forehead.

  “Pierce was going to shoot the kid, and then he shot at Lane. And Lane just aimed and fired twice. Pierce kind of stood there. His gun dropped a bit, then he brought it back up. Lane put a round in Pierce’s eye and he collapsed. All of his muscles just turned into jelly. The kids were crying and screaming. I keep seeing and hearing it over and over again.” Nigel stared at the oranges and reds in the Thai soup.

  “You think Lane was wrong?”

  Nigel shook his head. “That’s not it at all. I think I froze. Lane says I did what my training taught me. That the mother and father were in my line of fire.”

  “Were they?”

  Nigel nodded. “They were. But I froze.”

  “You’re forgetting the outcome.”

  “What?”

  “The killer would have shot the kid. No one but Pierce was injured. Remember that shooting in New York where nine bystanders were hit when the police fired on a shooter?”

  “No.”

  “All of the bystanders were wounded by police bullets or bullet fragments. In your case only the shooter was hit. You’re allowing the bullshit to mess with your mind. The family was saved. The killers are no longer a threat. That is all you really need to think about. All of the other stuff is bullshit.” She picked up her burger and pointed at the soup. “Eat your lunch. You’re not very sexy when your ribs start to show.”

  How much weight have I lost? He picked up the spoon and ate his soup.

  Lori said, “Lane, it’s me. You know I don’t usually work on the weekends so you’re gonna owe me for this one.”

  “Just a moment, please.” Lane covered his left ear with his hand, held the phone closer to his ear, got up from the leather recliner to get away from the TV and went upstairs to the bedroom. He closed the door. “What’s up?”

  “Something. Jean’s just not sure. Lots of calls coming into the chief’s office from Edmonton. More than normal. She recognized one voice. It was Simpson’s MLA.”

  “She is going to keep you informed?”

  Lori chuckled. “You understand that none of this can be repeated to anyone?”

  “Yes.”

  “She’s got the feeling that something big is in the works. She’s just not sure exactly what it is. Nothing definite but her hunches have a tendency to be right. I hope that helps you.”

  “It does. Thank you.”

  “I like flowers. Big bouquets with lots of red, pink and yellow roses.” Lori hung up.

  Lane pushed the stroller. Indiana slept with his head leaning up against the side of the fabric. Sam’s leash was tied to the handle on the left side. Lane felt himself getting into the rhythm of the walk as they passed in and out of the shade from the poplar trees lining the paved pathway.

  His phone vibrated. He unbuttoned his shirt pocket, pulled out his phone, checked the number and pressed the green button. “Hello, Carlo.”

  “Detective Lane?”

  “Yes. Have a good day with the truck?”

  “Busy day. Just got it all scrubbed down and ready for tomorrow. Had an interesting conversation today.”

  Lane stopped under the shade and next to a parked pickup. He looked around to make sure no one was within earshot. Sam gave Lane a puzzled look, harrumphed, then sat. “Go ahead.”


  “A girl I used to go to school with dropped by for a calzone and told me that Mara used to hang out with a couple of guys named Rogerson and Bertoulli. Apparently another of their friends was killed in a fight. Someone hit the guy up the side of the head with a toilet seat. A month after that, the toilet seat killer was murdered in a drive-by. My friend told me there were three guys in the car. The story going around was that Mara was the shooter, Rogerson did the driving and Bertoulli handled the phone.”

  “How come she told you this?”

  “She was a friend of Camille Desjardin at the time. I mentioned what happened to my grandmother and Camille, and she told me the drive-by story. It was like she wanted to help out.”

  Lane looked ahead as a woman driving a minivan sped through the playground zone. She talked, held a phone with her left hand and drove with her right.

  “That helps. Thanks.”

  “Remember our bargain?”

  “I remember.”

  “Good.” Carlo hung up.

  SUNDAY, JUNE 30

  chapter 14

  What’s he doing here on his day off? Walter wondered. He watched Brett stroke Cora’s hand.

  The garden room was filled with family and inmates — at least, that’s how Walter liked to refer to them. Lois, the crazy one in the wheelchair who was quite capable of walking, talked into a portable phone that everyone knew didn’t work. She talked so loud that even Walter could hear her when she said, “She has a Mennonite boyfriend!” The young woman who came to visit Lois every Sunday looked at Walter, raised her eyebrows and smiled.

  Penny sat next to him and tended to his nails. The manicure tingled the ends of his nerves, and he liked the warmth of her hand on his. He said, “I was thinking about Linda the other day.”

  Penny stopped buffing, turned to face him so he could see her lips, and asked, “Were you in Las Vegas?”

  Walter nodded. “I’d just won big. She liked to gamble, you know.”