Smoked Page 8

  “What’s so funny?” Kuldeep’s voice hissed with indignation.

  “Look at us!” Harper pointed at himself and Lane. “Two big cops are no match for Kuldeep!”

  Lane looked at each of them.

  Kuldeep smiled. “You enjoyed my performance?”

  Later, when the shop was empty again, Kuldeep joined them near the back of the shop at a table next to the washrooms. Harper sipped his coffee, pretending to read the newspaper while entering information on his computer.

  Lane sat across from Harper and watched the customers as they came in, waiting to see if he recognized anyone from the dentists’ office.

  Each time Kuldeep sat down to talk, she revealed a bit more. “It began with my children.”

  “How’s that?” Lane asked.

  Harper kept one eye on his computer and another on the front door.

  “You’ll laugh at me.” Kuldeep wrapped her fingers around her teacup.

  Lane shrugged. “Try us.”

  “It’s the way Jones looks at my children.”

  Lane waited.

  “When I first moved in here, he would come in to buy juice or tea. He wouldn’t talk with me. Grunt maybe, but never talk. Then one day I brought my son with me. He’s eight. Jones was really friendly with him, and asked him to come in for a checkup. Then my daughter came in.” Kuldeep looked over her shoulder. To make sure the shop was empty.

  “What happened?” Lane asked.

  “Jones wanted her to come over right away. He told me he would give her a free exam. I said Manpreet was afraid of dentists, he said that was no problem. He would sedate her. All the time he was watching my daughter.” Kuldeep looked at the wall as she recalled the experience.

  Lane thought, It’s time to bring her back. “Watching?”

  Kuldeep looked directly at him. “The way a man looks at a woman when he wants something.”

  Harper looked up, his forehead creased.

  “Can you be more specific?” Lane asked.

  Kuldeep stood up. “Are you stupid?”

  “We need to know exactly what you mean, that’s all,” Lane said.

  “Manpreet was like food for a dog.”

  “I’m not sure I understand,” Harper said.

  “I don’t always have the right words in English.” Kuldeep thought for a minute. “Prey? My five-year-old daughter was prey. The dentist kept moving closer. He touched Manpreet’s hair in a bad way. Only Manpreet’s hair, not my son’s. I never bring my youngest daughter here anymore. And my oldest daughter, I never leave her alone in the shop. Sometimes patients come in before an appointment. When they come back afterward, the children are different. Quieter. That was what it was like at first. Now, fewer and fewer people bring their children to the dentist. Still, Dr. Jones and Dr. Stephen, they buy new Mercedes. I work fourteen hours a day. I don’t buy a new car. Their office is always empty, and they buy new cars every six months.”

  ”But they’re dentists,” Harper said.

  “Do you have any idea how much I make on each cup of coffee?” Kuldeep looked at Harper and shook her head. “You don’t know much about running a business.”

  ×

  They stepped through the revolving door. tv screens the size of pool tables featured a variety of sporting events displayed two metres above the floor. Straight ahead, a car skidded, tires smoked, and cars piled into one another. Lane watched the screen as vehicles shed body panels and wheels at over 300 kilometres per hour.

  Lane inhaled. You can just smell the hormones in this place.

  “Used to hang out in places like this when I was nineteen and twenty.” Harper looked past the bar at people playing mini-golf.

  Lane looked back at the screen. Tire marks etched the track, smoke poured from engines, and rescue workers peeled back twisted body panels to get at drivers. Lane looked down at the photographs of James Sanders. “We’d better get to work.” He headed for the bar, noted the bartender’s ample cleavage, bleached-blond hair, and tanning-bed skin, then focused on her brown eyes. “We’re looking for the manager, please.”

  The bartender lifted the phone, pressed four numbers and said, “Couple of cops here to see you, Andy.”

  In less than three minutes, Andy was pumping their hands, offering a table, handing them gift certificates for dinner, and checking out the photos of James Sanders.

  Harper pointed at a photo. “We’re trying to find out if anyone saw him last Monday. More than a week ago.”

  Andy tapped his forehead with a forefinger, careful not to touch his artfully unkempt hair. “Same crew that was on that night is on tonight. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

  “We bad for business?” Harper asked as they followed in Andy’s wake.

  Andy stopped, turned, and smiled, then turned around again and began a series of introductions.

  They met Julianne twenty minutes later. She wore a red T-shirt that set off her blue eyes. Harper and Lane sat down at a nearby table so they could talk with her at eye level.

  Andy’s phone rang. He answered it. “I’ll be right there.” He looked at Lane. “Be right back.”

  Julianne sat, pushed her blonde shoulder-length hair behind her ears, and studied the photographs. She looked over her shoulder to see if Andy was anywhere nearby. “I work here Monday and Thursday evenings.”

  “Only two shifts?” Harper asked.

  “Money’s good. Time goes fast, and my daughter wants to go to Disneyland.” Julianne looked them both in the eye.

  She’s no pushover, be careful, Lane thought.

  “Do you remember him at all?” Harper pointed at the picture of James on the table.

  She looked at the photo. “He got here around the beginning of my shift. I start at four.” Julianne pointed at a table near the front that provided a clear view of the revolving door. “Had his motorcycle helmet on the chair across from him. Kept looking around. Ordered Pepsi. Waited for someone. She never showed.”

  “She?” Harper pulled out his pocket computer.

  Lane watched Julianne’s face.

  She sensed his attention and turned to study him. “You’re not saying much.”

  “I’m listening.” Lane smiled.

  Julianne smiled back. “He was waiting for his girlfriend. They’ve been in here before. She never showed. He was here, waiting, ’til nine or ten that night.”

  “Is there any way you could confirm the exact time?” Harper tapped the keys on his computer.

  “If he paid with a card, there’d be a record of it. I can’t remember if he did or not.” Julianne looked around. Andy was headed their way. Julianne put her finger on the photo. “He loved her.” She stood up.

  “How could you tell?” Lane stood.

  Julianne shrugged. “He was different around her. Softer. No rough edges. And he never looked at any other women when she was with him.”

  “Can we get your address and phone number?” Lane asked.

  She considered the question, then wrote both on the back of Lane’s business card when he slid it across the table.

  Andy put his hand on Lane’s shoulder. “How’s it goin’, guys?”

  Harper smiled. “We’d better be going.”

  Lane’s phone rang. He waved Andy away. “Hello?”

  “Detective Lane?”

  Lane recognized the monotone and was instantly angry. “Yes?”

  “Dr. Colin Weaver here. We need to meet.”

  ×

  “He said right away.” Lane exited the elevator and waited for Harper.

  Lane knocked on Dr. Weaver’s office door. The opaque glass rattled in its frame.

  “Yes?”

  Lane looked at Harper. Weaver, or Dr. Fibre as they called him, had always used the same bland tone of voice. But this time there was something uneasy in Fibre’s tone.

  “It’s Lane and Harper.” Harper opened the door.

  Fibre sat behind the desk, its top shining and reflecting his Hollywood features. He looked at them, before
looking away. “Shut the door,” he said, and as an afterthought, “please.”

  Lane still wasn’t sure he would be able to control his anger after what Fibre had said to Christine.

  Sensing this, Harper said, “You asked to see us.”

  Fibre looked at Lane, looked at the floor, then looked at his computer screen. “I have results from the autopsy and tests completed on the remains of Jennifer Towers.”

  Lane waited.

  Harper said, “And?”

  “There is one major anomaly. At first I believed Ms. Towers died of asphyxiation, but the bruising was minor and there were no other signs of a struggle. This is very unusual. Victims almost always fight to breathe. In this case, it appears she did not.” Fibre played with the computer. Lines appeared across his forehead.

  “What do you think now?” Harper asked.

  “I’m not sure.” Fibre shook his head and frowned. “Because she worked in a dental office there is one likely possibility.”

  Harper waited a minute before asking, “Well?’

  “Nitrous oxide. It is difficult to trace. Because there is no obvious evidence of the cause of death in this case, it is the most likely solution.” Fibre shifted his weight in his chair and avoided eye contact.

  “Could we get a copy of the report?” Harper asked.

  Fibre looked at Harper as if he’d just appeared in the room. “Of course.” He turned back to the computer, and the printer began to whir. Paper stuck its tongue out of the printer.

  Lane watched Fibre. There was sweat running down the side of his face. Fibre never sweats. Especially not in here; it must be fifteen degrees, Lane thought.

  Harper picked up the paper from the printer. He turned to leave.

  Lane began to stand.

  “There’s something else.” Fibre said, and waited until they sat back down.

  What else could there be? Lane thought.

  Fibre lifted his eyes, made contact with Lane’s, then looked back at the floor. “What I said to your niece was unconscionable. I had no reason for saying that to her. I pride myself in being fair-minded. But what I said was…”

  “Way out of line?” Harper asked.

  Fibre looked up. Rage flared in his eyes, but was instantly extinguished. “It’s not easy for me. This is very difficult. I’m good with analysis. Living, breathing people are incomprehensible to me. Women are unfathomable.”

  “My niece came from a religious compound where the men treated her like she was less than human. Her mother let them do that to her daughter. We’re trying to build my niece’s confidence back up again. Trying to help her feel good about herself.” Lane stopped. I would never have imagined having this kind of conversation with Fibre.

  The doctor sat back, shrinking in the chair. “There are no words.”

  Harper stood up. Lane did the same.

  Fibre watched them with eyes that appeared more childlike than adult.

  “Thanks for the information,” Harper said.

  “One other thing. We may have dna evidence. A hair sample was found between layers of the plastic wrap. The hair did not belong to Ms. Towers. The plastic was the kind of product used to wrap and preserve food.” Weaver looked at the floor.

  Lane closed the door behind them. Neither spoke until they got into the car. Lane said, “That was an unusual experience.”

  “I’ve never seen him like that. He was so,” Harper searched for the right word, “human.”

  Lane lifted his head, staring at nothing in particular, struck by the truth of Harper’s observation and the mixed feelings he had about Fibre.

  ×

  “How did it start?” Lane asked.

  “I don’t know. She called him Quasimodo, and he called her a Barbie.”

  Both listened to the unusual quiet in the house. Christine and Matt had barricaded themselves in their rooms. Roz lay on the floor between Arthur and Lane. She snored. The men looked at her.

  Arthur rubbed Roz’s ears. “How are we going to handle this thing on Saturday?”

  “Thing?”

  Arthur glared at Lane. “You know, Christine meeting her dad.”

  “Maybe it’ll handle itself?” Did I really say that? Lane thought.

  Arthur looked at Lane like he’d just farted in the mayor’s office. “Her father hasn’t ever seen her. As far as we know, he’s never tried to find her. Her mother has rejected her. Do I have to paint you a picture of how devastating this entire experience could be for her?”

  Lane thought before answering. “No, you’ve already managed to paint a pretty clear picture.”

  “So, what are we going to do?”

  A number of possibilities ran through Lane’s mind. “We all have to be there.”

  “In his present state of mind, Matt will probably refuse.”

  “And we have to go out for dinner first.” Lane smiled when he thought of where they would be eating.

  ×

  Maddy carried Andrea in her arms. Andrea whimpered and sucked her thumb.

  “I’m sorry Andrea. I’m tired too. I shouldn’t have said that.” Maddy felt an overwhelming sense of guilt after her outburst.

  Andrea put her head on Maddy’s shoulder.

  “You’re getting to be such a big girl.” And heavy, Maddy thought. She tried to concentrate on something else to take her mind off of the weight of her sister. The spray cans and oversized pens rattled up against one another in her backpack. She listened to the sounds they made as she walked across the school field. When she stepped onto the teachers’ paved parking lot, she checked for lights in her house at the end of the cul-de-sac. The light from the tv illuminated the window in the living room.

  “Shit.” A cloud of frosty breath followed the words. She put her cheek against Andrea’s to warm them both.

  Maddy made her way around the back of the house, wondering if it would be possible to get upstairs without alerting whoever was still up.

  She managed to open the back door, pull the key from her pocket, and balance Andrea. Down the hall, the polished floor reflected the drama playing out on the tv in the living room. Maddy kicked off her shoes and slipped down the hall until she could see her mother on the couch. Her feet stuck out from the blanket she’d pulled down from the back of the couch. Maddy moved closer. Andrea sucked her thumb furiously. Maddy caught the sour smell of alcohol seeping from her mother’s pores.

  Maddy took Andrea in her arms and went upstairs to bed.

  FRIDAY, MAY 9

  chapter 11

  “Detectives Lane and Harper to see James Sanders.” Harper spoke into the intercom on the third floor of the Foothills Medical Centre. They stood outside the locked grey metal door and waited.

  A buzzer sounded, and Lane pulled the door open. They walked past the nursing station. Four pairs of eyes followed them as they walked down to the end of the hall and into the last room on the right.

  She’s the last person I expected to find here, Lane thought. “Mrs. Towers?” He took in the room. James was in the bed next to the window. His broken leg was propped up on a pillow. James was caught in the motion of changing the channel on the overhead television. At the foot of the bed, MaryAnne looked up from the mystery novel she was reading. To Lane it looked as if she’d dropped twenty pounds on a diet of grief.

  MaryAnne said, “He’s resting.”

  “It’s okay.” James propped himself on an elbow so he could see the detectives a bit better. He used a ruler to scratch his multicoloured leg.

  Harper moved to Lane’s left. “One of the waitresses at the sports bar told us that she saw you there the night Jennifer disappeared. We’re here to go over what you remember about that day.”

  MaryAnne put her book down.

  She almost smiled, Lane thought.

  James looked from one detective to the other.

  “I think they’re saying they believe you, James.” MaryAnne got up and stood next to the window.

  “Please, take us through that day.” Lane s
tood at the foot of the bed so he could gauge James’ reactions.

  Harper moved so that he could observe MaryAnne.

  “I called her at lunchtime to say we should meet at the bar so I could apologize and buy her dinner.” James looked at MaryAnne.

  “Apologize?” Lane studied James’ eyes.

  “I called her father an asshole.” James glanced at Mary-Anne.

  Harper and Lane waited.

  “Jenn was going to meet me around three-thirty or four o’clock. She wasn’t sure how long her last appointment would take.” James put his head back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling.

  “What time did you arrive?” Harper asked.

  “Got let off of work early. Got there about three-fifteen. I waited ’til ten o’clock and drove by the office. Her car was still there, but the place was closed. I went home.”

  “Did you have any contact with her after that?” Lane looked at MaryAnne.

  She looked directly back at Lane without blinking.

  “I tried her cell and home phone but there was no answer.” James shrugged.

  MaryAnne said, “We were out for dinner. She always lets us know when she’s going somewhere. Usually, she phones after work and leaves a message. When she wasn’t home the next morning, we dropped by her work. The car was covered with frost.”

  “What about her attitude toward her job?” Lane asked, thinking, Maybe this will get us closer to what happened.

  “She was looking for another one. Jennifer had some feelers out with friends she’d graduated with.” MaryAnne looked out the window and wiped at her eyes.

  Lane watched her reflection in the window. She lifted her head and looked back at him through the shadow of her reflected body.

  MaryAnne sniffed. “Things started off quite well at Jones’ practice. Then she started to complain about little things. She wondered why there were so few patients. The receptionist, Ramona, didn’t talk much and made Jenn feel like she wasn’t welcome. And she couldn’t figure out why Dr. Stephen was away so often. At least four days out of five, he’d be gone. It just didn’t feel right, and she started to think she’d better look for another job.”

  “Any specifics?” Harper sat down on the empty bed next to James and pulled out his pocket computer.