Deadly Fall (32 page)

“Novak's on sick leave. Doctor's ordered him to rest his leg and do physio. I wouldn't count on him doing either of those things.”

“It puts more burden on you when you're short-staffed.”

“That's chronic in all police departments, but don't think we're rushing the case. We'd do a proper job if we were down to a single person. Still, you notice it with three missing; including Novak, who's by far the most experienced, and the staff sergeant, out with cancer.”

“I'm sorry about your staff sergeant,” she said. “Who's replacing him?”

“Thinking of going over my head?” His lip twitched.

It had crossed her mind, but his supervisor would watch the video and all she could do was repeat that Sam had told her that Callie and Felix were merely friends. Close as he was to Felix, Sam might welcome a murder-suicide verdict that would lift suspicion from his son. A quick conclusion to the case could even keep Dimitri's affair with Callie out of the media and salvage his political career.

The Beltline merged into Mission, which was even more bustling with people.

Vincelli turned east on 25th Avenue. “The acting staff sergeant is the detective who rubs you the wrong way.”

Not Coyote-face. “When he questioned me, all he did was pester me for details. He struck me as someone who'd miss the forest for the trees.”

“He's competent.”

They reached Felix's street. Vincelli parked behind her car. The crime scene van and one patrol car remained. The yellow tape was still up.

“Felix's body has been removed,” Vincelli said. “We must have just missed it.”

“I wish someone who knew him had been here to watch. It seems appropriate.”

His eyes flickered in sympathy. “I'll phone you when the autopsy results are in.”

“When will that be?”

“Probably tomorrow afternoon.”

Walter rocked and
smoked on his porch. For once Paula wanted to talk to him. She grabbed her purse from the front passenger seat. He mashed his cigarette on the railing. They met on his sidewalk. Despite today's relatively cool weather, his parka seemed overkill.

“Have your relatives from Europe gone?” he said. “I saw their car drive away this morning.”

“At what time?”

“Just before you left. Didn't you see them off?”

“Did you notice their car leave earlier in the morning, before 8:00
AM
, and return?”

“I wasn't up 'til eight thirty.”

“That late? I thought people your age got up with the birds.”

“Why should I do that when I'm retired?”

Trust him not to oblige the one time his snooping would have helped. She would question her other neighbors. Some, she knew, slept late on Sunday mornings. If Sam had driven to Felix's house and back, probably no one had seen him. It was unlikely he'd done that and she didn't want Callie's murderer to be Sam. She didn't want it to be Dimitri, either. For everyone, her included, settling on Felix as the killer would be easiest.

The 6:00
PM
news blared from the
TV
set. Isabelle sprawled on the chair, one leg draped over a chair arm.

She looked up from filing her nails. “You just missed the report. They showed Felix's house and people hanging around the street. I couldn't see you or me or Mike. They didn't say Felix knew Callie or that he murdered her or even that he offed himself.”

“That isn't proven yet,” Paula said.

“What did the cops ask you?” Isabelle said. “They kept you forever.”

“I'll tell you over dinner,” Paula said. “I need a break first.”

“I'm eating out.” Isabelle followed her into the kitchen. “A lot of people phoned this afternoon.”

“Who?” Paula took out a bottle of wine from the fridge, a chilled Riesling for a change.

“Your boss. He said it wasn't important and he'd see you at work tomorrow morning.”

Paula uncorked the wine. “Do you want a glass?”

Isabelle shook her head. “I'll probably be drinking enough tonight.”

“Where are you going?”

“We aren't sure. Dimitri said we'd decide in the car.”

Paula froze. “You're going out with Dimitri?”

“He was another one who called, looking for Sam. He already knew about Felix. He said he'd canceled his trip to Ottawa and felt like going out and I wasn't doing anything.”

Pouring wine into her glass, Paula said, “I don't think you should go.”

“Why not?” Isabelle picked up some scraps of paper from the telephone table. “Also, your mother called. She was wondering where you were, since you usually phone her on Sunday. I said you were at the police station being questioned about Felix's death.”

“That should reassure her.”

“Erin called, wondering why the cops came by her house to alibi me for last night. Isn't that exciting? I called Leah, your other daughter, to tell her about Felix, but didn't say Sam stayed over here last night. I figured you'd want to tell her yourself. The last one was Hayden. I told him about Felix and about the cops questioning us.”

”But not about me and Sam?”

“I wasn't sure you'd want me to, since he's your boyfriend. I've got to get dressed. Can I borrow the flowery skirt in your closet? The purple blouse, too. I don't have anything fancy enough.”

“Call Dimitri and say you've changed your mind.”

“I won't stay out late or drink too much since I've got a job interview in the morning.”

“Where? Did one of the restaurants you applied to call back?”

Isabelle was already dashing down the hall. At least the blouse and skirt would be less skimpy than her usual clothes. Outdoors, a pink glow illuminated the crabapple tree, now almost bare of leaves. When Dimitri arrived, Paula would suggest the three of them order pizza and talk about Felix here. She owed it to Isabelle's parents not to let her go out with him until his part, or non-part, in the murders was settled. She glanced at the clock. It was after 8:00
PM
in Montreal; she would return her mother's call first.

The doorbell rang. “Can you get it?” Isabelle yelled from the den.

“Sure I can, since it's my house.” Which she couldn't wait to claim back for herself.

She crossed through the living room, preparing her comments for Dimitri, and opened the door. It was Hayden.

“Isabelle told me about you and her finding the body,” he said. “That must have been a shock.”

Isabelle reappeared, looking gorgeous in the flower skirt, mauve blouse, and pendant Paula had worn on many dates with Hayden. He didn't seem to recognize the outfit. After introductions, she poured him a glass of Riesling. He wore his best casual clothes: a yellow golf shirt and freshly pressed corduroy pants. He ironed way more than she did. Isabelle launched into her story of their discovery of Felix's body.

“It was lucky I had a key,” she said. “We can use it tomorrow when we get my things.”

“Didn't you give the key to the cops?” Paula said.

“No one asked me for it.” Isabelle jumped up. “Is that a car?”

She and Paula went to the door. Dimitri looked sharp in a long-sleeved navy shirt and white Dockers pants. “I'm sorry and stunned by Felix's death,” he said. “I can't imagine him committing suicide.”

They shook hands. His fingers felt eerily like Sam's.

“Can you imagine him in love with Callie?” she said.

He jerked his hand away. “I'm sure the interest was entirely on his side. She must have been aware of it, but didn't tell me to spare my feelings.” He looked over Paula's shoulder. “I didn't realize you had company.”

Paula introduced him to Hayden. The men shook hands firmly. Dimitri had certainly composed himself since her visit on Friday night.

She glanced out the window. “I see you brought your car, rather than your motorbike.”

“Isabelle can't drive the bike, but she can drive the car if I drink too much, which I have no intention of doing,” Dimitri said. “I've learned my lesson, the hard way, several lessons, in fact.”

She liked him better when he was falling apart. What was his interest in Isabelle? It would be hard to convince Isabelle to stay home without Dimitri; sharing pizza with Hayden and Dimitri would not be fun. On balance, Paula had to let Isabelle go. She suggested they be back by eleven o'clock so Isabelle would be fresh for her interview.

“What kind of job are you getting?” Dimitri asked with apparent interest as Paula closed the door behind them.

“What a phony,” Hayden said, returning to the sofa.

Paula took the armchair. “I can't help feeling responsible for her.”

“He'll fly off to Ottawa soon and chase after some classier woman. Why isn't he in Ottawa already? Aren't federal
MP
s required to attend parliamentary sessions, on occasion?”

“Dimitri told me Friday he would resign his seat. I wonder if he's changed his mind.”

They sipped the sweet Riesling. Hayden was obviously waiting for the Sam report and she was too tired to circle around it. She set her glass on the end table, on the spot where Sam had lit the last candle before they tumbled to the floor. Not so many hours ago her evening dress was draped on this chair. Now, it hung in the front closet waiting to be dry-cleaned. Hayden's brown eyes looked hopeful.

“I owe you the truth.” She took a breath. “The hike was okay. When we got back to Calgary, we dropped Felix off at his house and Isabelle at Erin's, where she was spending the night. Sam and I went to dinner. He drove me home and stayed over.”

Hayden went pale. “You slept with him?”

“Feel free to say ‘I told you so'.”

“There are times I'd prefer to be wrong.” He placed his wine glass on the ottoman. “What was it like?”

“I'm not answering that.”

“This is the end.”

“I'm sorry.”

“And the beginning of you and Sam.”

“I don't know about that. Felix's death changes things.”

“In what way? I expect Sam will be looking for comfort after his friend's suicide.”

“I'm not sure it was suicide.”

“An accident? When I called, Isabelle said Felix had been drinking.”

“I think it might have been murder.”

A pickup truck lumbered down the street. An airplane roared overhead.

“It wasn't likely Sam,” she said. “I can give him an alibi for the probable time of death, aside from an hour when he disappeared.”

“Disappeared?” Hayden said. “Was that some kind of kinky sex thing?”

She studied his self-deprecating smile. “You seem calmer about this than I had expected.”

“I've had all weekend to prepare. I knew I was finished the moment you decided to go on that hike.”

“I didn't know we were finished then. I don't even know it now.”

Hayden stood and marched to the wall unit, his nostrils twitching in anger—or at the acrid odor that lingered from last night.

“I still care about you,” Paula said.

“If you say let's be friends, I'll puke.” His hand brushed over the feather cap Isabelle had placed on the shelf. He picked up the monkey candle. “Is this new?”

“I bought it on impulse earlier this week.”

He stared at the startled monkey face and mumbled something that sounded like “monkey in the middle.”

“It's not your fault you're stuck in the middle of this,” she said. “Don't be hard on yourself.”

“See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil,” he said. His hands shook. This breakup was bothering him more than he let on. She edged toward him and touched his arm.

“Do the cops really suspect Felix was murdered?” he asked.

“They lean strongly toward thinking he killed Callie and committed suicide from remorse. I'm the one who's more skeptical.”

“Why?”

“A hunch?” She shrugged. “Yesterday, Felix went on and on about a great column he was going to write that was so vitally important the newspaper would splash it on the front page. Suddenly, he's dead. If it wasn't suicide, someone wanted desperately to shut him up.”

Hayden plunked the candle on the shelf.

“They might find more of his column in his wastebasket or on his computer. If they don't . . . I feel so helpless. I wish I could do something.”

“No.” He walked to the sofa, his legs steady, the shaking gone. “You've done your bit. The cops can take it from here. If they rule it suicide, you agree, whether you believe it or not.”

“But—”

“Keep your eyes, ears, and mouth shut.”

See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil. “Why did that candle upset you so much?”

“Keep your doubts to yourself. Don't tell anyone.”

“Not even Sam?”

“Especially Sam.”

“I don't know if I can.”

“Then stay away from him and his bunch.”

“You would like that.”

Hayden crossed one leg over the other. “It isn't jealousy this time, I swear. I don't want the cops barging into my office demanding my alibi because you've turned up as the next probable suicide.”

Paula shivered. “I wish you would lay off these warnings.”

“I wish you'd lay off Sam, rather than lay him.”

“There's no need to be crude.”

He bolted up. “I should leave before we end on an even uglier note.”

“You always avoid arguments.” Did he? She was too tired to remember. “I'd like us to talk when things are more settled.”

“We'll see.”

After he left, the house felt strangely silent. She returned her mother's and daughters' phone calls. Everyone was out. Where would her mother go at 9:00
PM
? Paula left them both messages saying she was fine and would call when she had a chance. Not in the mood for
TV
, she paced from the living room to the den, to the kitchen and bedroom. She wouldn't rest until Isabelle was back safe from her dinner with Dimitri, who was probably pumping her for information relating to their findings at Felix's house. Paula felt herself wear a track in the hardwood floor. Her house shrank to the size of the interview room and was almost as stark: no pictures or plants, minimal knickknacks. She would go nuts if she didn't get out, but didn't dare walk through her neighborhood at night. The murder had ruined the place for her. Would she ever feel safe here again? She grabbed her car keys and purse, double-checked the locks on her front and side doors. In the car, she drove, not knowing which way she would turn until she reached 8th Street.