The Bone Seeker (27 page)

‘I think he's found something.'

Oolik was repeating the Inuktitut word for ‘trailer'.

Edie strode over to the door. At the bottom of the steps leading from the detachment was Joe's ATV. A soaked and crumpled tarp lay over the trailer, strapped on with elastic bungees. Edie took one look back then ran down the steps. Joe was shouting at her now, but she couldn't hear the words above the thick pulse of her own heart. She reached the base of the steps, rushed over to the trailer and pushed the tarp aside.

Rashid Alfasi's eyes stared blankly up at her.

In any normal circumstances it would have seemed beyond doubt that the death of Rashid Alfasi was a suicide. When Joe Oolik found him, face up in shallow water, Alfasi was wearing a backpack weighted with rocks. A thick notebook serving as a diary lay on the table inside his cabin. On top of the notebook he'd left a photograph of Martha Salliaq at the bird cliffs matching the one Edie had found in her bedroom just after her death.

It would have been usual procedure to take the body to the morgue, inform the next of kin and get started on the necessary administration in the morning. A sad fact of High Arctic life was that young men killed themselves at an alarming rate. But Rashid Alfasi was both a suspect in Martha Salliaq's murder and on secondment to the military and Derek was concerned that, if he didn't act quickly, the Defence Department would find some excuse to remove his jurisdiction.

And so over the next few hours he busied himself with transporting the body into the morgue and making the necessary phone calls to the medical examiner and the police in Vancouver and filling in incident reports and other paperwork. While he worked Edie scanned the pages of the notebook, trying to put together the pieces of Alfasi's life that might tell the story of his death.

What was immediately clear was that Rashid Alfasi had been a hopelessly conflicted young man, torn between his identity as a Muslim and the paths he had taken. From Edie's reading of the notebook, it looked as if two incidents had come together in the same day which, in Alfasi's view, had made his life unendurable.

From what Edie could piece together, it seemed that Rashid Alfasi had been seeing Martha in secret for about five months. They met mostly at the bird cliffs and sometimes, when the weather was bad, in one of the abandoned buildings at Glacier Ridge. The meetings were marked in the diary, along with the occasional annotation ‘left flowers', presumably to mark those times that Martha couldn't get away but Alfasi wanted her to know he had waited for her. The diary entry on the Friday before Martha died was of particular interest. Long and anguished, the writing by turns compressed and scrawling, it narrated a series of momentous events in Alfasi's life.

Alfasi had been working at the weather station. In the afternoon, he had called his parents in Vancouver from the satphone there. It was his mother's birthday and he'd wanted to wish her a happy day. But the conversation drifted into more painful territory. Evidently, Alfasi hadn't told his parents about his secondment to the military. But they had found out from Alfasi's brother. They disagreed with the deployment of Canadian troops in Afghanistan and saw their son's secondment as a betrayal. Alfasi's mother had threatened never to speak to her son again.

This must have been echoing in his head as Alfasi went to meet Martha that Friday after school. According to the notebook, he didn't tell Martha about the row with his parents. Instead, they talked about Martha's desire to move to Vancouver and study there. She wanted Alfasi to move with her. They could be married. ‘I imagined what my mom would say to that and panicked,' he wrote in the notebook. He told Martha to forget the move because he didn't want to be with her any more.

Alfasi had told them the rest of the story when they'd interviewed him. He ran because he knew that his relationship with Martha would be discovered eventually and he supposed that he would get the blame for her death.

By the time Derek had finished with the papers and Edie had been through the notebook it was early morning. There was no point in trying to get some sleep. Anna Mackie was due to arrive before too long
and Derek needed to stay awake in order to make arrangements with the Vancouver Police family liaison. Alfasi's parents had already decided that they wanted to fly to Ellesmere to pick up their son's body.

Derek made coffee for himself and tea for Edie and they sat in the office and talked about Edie's findings.

‘You think he could have killed her?' Derek asked after Edie had outlined Alfasi's version of events.

‘Unlikely, I'd say. His story adds up. It explains why Martha was upset on Friday night and why she took the Killer Whales to the Shoreline Bar, knowing Alfasi would be working in the Shack at the back. Wanted to make him jealous.' It also explained what it was she was trying to tell Willa, Edie thought, though she kept this to herself. ‘Namagoose said Martha had told him she'd had a fight with her boyfriend. Turns out he was telling the truth.'

‘Any firm evidence as to why Alfasi killed himself?'

‘Nothing you can take directly from the notebook. There's no suicide note,' Edie said. ‘I had to guess, it was a combination of things. Family disgrace for one. Then the sense that he was about to be accused and bring more shame on his family. Guilt, maybe. If he hadn't finished it with Martha she wouldn't have hooked up with Namagoose and Saxby.'

She watched Derek pour himself another cup of coffee and suppress a yawn.

‘That damned notebook tells us a whole lot about Martha Salliaq except for the one thing we most need to know. Who killed her?'

A few hours later Anna Mackie's plane touched down in Kuujuaq. Edie and Derek were at the landing strip to meet her.

‘I hope you got some strong coffee brewing,' Mackie said. ‘It was kind of an early start.' She registered the state of Edie's nose. ‘That looks sore.'

‘It's how we're wearing them up here this summer,' Edie said.

‘Funny,' Mackie said. She didn't seem to be in the mood for humour.

Derek cut in. ‘You didn't return my call the other day.'

Mackie touched the palm of her right hand to her forehead in an unconvincing gesture intended to convey ditziness. No one less ditzy than Mackie.

The pilot had opened up the hold and was passing out the forensic bags. Derek grabbed a couple and heaved them onto the trailer.

He suggested Edie drive Mackie and the baggage trailer out into the parking lot then strode off after the pilot to complete some paperwork and speak with Alice and Lizzie Salliaq who had accompanied Charlie on the same flight.

‘It's such a tragedy, the region losing its young men in this way,' Mackie said. ‘Derek told me he left a note?' Neither Ransom nor Mackie knew about Rashid Alfasi's connection to Martha Salliaq yet. Derek hadn't wanted to give them any excuse to stall.

‘More of a diary.' They reached Derek's vehicle. Mackie ran her eyes over the bags, mentally ticking them off, and the two women began to transfer them onto the police trailer.

‘So there's nothing I should be looking out for outside a suicide by
drowning.' Mackie voiced this as a statement, not a question. She caught Edie's eye and held her gaze, eager for affirmation.

‘No,' Edie said. ‘Nothing at all.'

Relief came over the ME's face.

•   •   •

Derek reappeared and took the key Edie handed him. She told him to go ahead with Mackie. Being at the airstrip had reminded her to check and see if Sonia Gutierrez's vehicle was somewhere in the vicinity. Edie hadn't seen her around for a couple of days and the last time they'd spoken the lawyer had seemed anxious about her safety. In all the tumult of the events of the past couple of days Edie had forgotten about her. Now she remembered her saying she was thinking about going to Iqaluit. Edie hoped that was where she was now. After a quick check of the parking lot and the administrative building, she finally spotted the lawyer's vehicle hiding behind a bank of rotten snow at the end of the landing strip, parked up and empty. It struck her as a strange place to leave it. She went back inside the terminal building, intending to check the passenger manifest, and ran into Markoosie Pitoq, who was standing in the corridor, smoking.

‘How's your brother-in-law?' Lizzie and Alice had been told the news about Alfasi. They'd decided to keep it from Charlie until he was stronger. Edie didn't know whether or not Markoosie knew.

‘We're waiting for the gurney trailer. You can see for yourself, he's in there.' Markoosie flipped his head to indicate a side room off the main terminal building. He followed her in.

A
qalunaat
nurse was standing beside the old man's bed, checking his IV. She said she'd accompanied the patient from Iqaluit. Kind eyes. Something dry in the smile. Edie introduced herself and went over to the old man.

‘
Avasirngulik
, it's me.' Charlie's eyes opened and a half-grin appeared on his face.

‘The Lemming Police's girl.' He chuckled weakly then blinked. His face wrinkled with concern. ‘What happened to your nose?'

‘Nothing important.' What she saw lying in the bed was a dying man. ‘How are you?' she said.

He raised his eyebrows and beckoned to the nurse with his hand. ‘Tell the girl what the doctor said. I can't remember all the names.'

‘Dr Applebaum's diagnosis is acute myoblastic leukaemia. It's sometimes called “white blood”. Unfortunately Mr Salliaq has refused any further treatment, so the doctor had no choice but to let him come back home.'

Salliaq chuckled. ‘I'm non-compliant, apparently.'

‘Among other things,' the nurse said, with feeling.

The old man sighed. ‘These people are crazy. They think they can cure “white blood” by pumping me full of white blood. But I said to them, the only blood that's going to run in these veins is Inuit blood.' He gave a little snort. ‘The doctor says that's racist, but he doesn't understand our traditions.'

‘I see,' Edie said. Her inclination was to agree with the doctor but there wasn't much point in saying so. ‘Did you talk to Sonia Gutierrez about this?' Edie wondered if there was some legal loophole which might keep everyone happy.

‘I haven't seen her or spoken to her,' Charlie said.

Odd, Edie thought. Worryingly so. If Gutierrez really was in Iqaluit, wouldn't she have visited the old man in hospital? The two were close. She made her excuses and went to the door, promising to come and see Charlie at the nursing station. Markoosie followed her out and laid a hand on her elbow to indicate that he had something to say to her.

‘I wanted to ask you about the amulet, the one I made for Martha. I'd like it returned. It still has power. I would like my brother-in-law to have it.'

His face told her that he was serious. For some reason she thought about the
tupilaq
she'd found outside his house.

‘I'll see what I can do,' she said.

She left him in the corridor and made her way to the office to check the passenger manifests for the last week.

Sonia Gutierrez's name was nowhere on any of them.

•   •   •

She sensed that the hotel was empty the moment she walked in. She strode up the stairs two by two. When she got to the top she turned
down the corridor and saw immediately that something was very wrong. The door to room number 7 was open and the room itself was completely empty. The sun beating through the window exposed a thin layer of newly gathered dust. She went back down to the kitchenette, opened the cupboards. A few packets of dry goods, a half-can of rancid-smelling tuna in the refrigerator, as though Gutierrez had left in a hurry. The phone log in which guests were supposed to record the destination and length of their calls had a couple of recent entries in Gutierrez's handwriting. These suggested she'd made a call to a number in Ottawa then another to Iqaluit.

The Ottawa number was answered by an RCMP officer who claimed to have no knowledge of Gutierrez's call. The Iqaluit number rang directly through to Chris Tetlow at the
Arctic Circular
. The journalist said he hadn't had any contact with Sonia Gutierrez since they'd spoken briefly a few days back. He said she'd usually call him when she came through Iqaluit and they'd have a drink together. He gave Edie the lawyer's office and home number in Ottawa. If she wasn't there he didn't know any other place she'd be likely to have gone.

‘She's kind of a workaholic,' he explained. ‘She doesn't really have much of a private life.'

Edie asked Tetlow to phone the detachment if he heard from the lawyer then finished the call. Both the numbers Tetlow had given her went straight through to voicemail. She left messages but didn't hold out much hope.

From the downstairs hallway, she went back up to the rooms, beginning with number 7 then working her way through the rest, checking shelves, closets, peering under beds and lifting mattresses. Outside, the sun had disappeared and been replaced by wet sleet. The wind had picked up. From the windows she could see the birds on the overhead cables bobbing up and down, their feathers opened like fading flowers.

She was about to give up when from the corner of her eye she saw something moving in the room at the end of the corridor. Her hunter's instinct told her to crouch low and listen. From behind a door, past Sonia Gutierrez's room, was coming a not quite regular slapping sound.
She began to inch along the wall. At the door she stopped and listened. The sound continued unabated. The wet, rhythmic thwack of something swinging. She laid an ear up against the wood. The noise was definitely coming from inside. She thought about Alfasi and a sudden sickening fear came over her that Gutierrez had taken her life and was hanging in the bathroom. Fumbling for the handle, she threw open the door, which swung back then bounced a little off the weight of something lying behind it. The slapping sound continued. She felt a breeze, looked towards the window and saw the gap where it had come open; a piece of the vertical blinds had become detached and, now exposed to the rain, was swinging sodden against the window frame. Her body relaxed.

Behind the door was a black daypack with a dark-blue trim. Inside there were a few papers annotated in what she recognized as Sonia Gutierrez's handwriting. Either the lawyer had forgotten the bag when she'd moved the rest of her things or she'd left it there deliberately. Shouldering the bag, Edie padded down into the communal room, took a chair and emptied the papers out onto the low coffee table. There was a series of plans of Glacier Ridge, dated 1960 and 1974, what appeared to be an order for construction materials and a memorandum about the clean-up with a faint annotation reading ‘IRG categorically forbids' ringed in pen at what looked like some later date. Pushing the papers back inside, Edie zipped up the bag, went back outside and made her way towards the nursing station.

•   •   •

The body of Rashid Alfasi lay part-covered on a gurney. Evidently, he hadn't been long in the water when Joseph Oolik found him. There were patches of lividity on his face and his lips were set in the grimace of rigor mortis, though from the slackening around the eyes it seemed that the rigor was already beginning to leave him.

Anna Mackie stood beside the gurney outlining her plan for the autopsy to Derek. As Edie came in she fell silent, her eyes first narrowing then slaloming between the police sergeant and his VPSO.

‘Now wait a minute, guys . . .' Her arms wrapped around each other defensively. ‘What is this, an ambush?'

As Derek explained that Rashid Alfasi's death and Martha Salliaq's were most likely connected, little darts of anger shot across Mackie's face.

‘You should have told me. Dammit, I can't believe you're putting me in this situation. I told you the department made me sign a gagging order. I even mention the Salliaq case I could lose my job.' The ME left the examination table and went over to the sink. She flipped her face mask down and leaned back against the metal, thinking.

‘You listen to the dead, Anna,' Edie said. ‘That's your job.'

The ME let out a snort of annoyance but she knew there was no answering this. Her body softened. ‘OK, OK, I get it. You're still on the Salliaq case.' Her head turned, checking the room. ‘Is it safe to talk here?'

Derek went over to an old radio sitting on the windowsill and turned it up high. The odd hoot of throat-singing filled the room.

‘It is now.'

They huddled beside the radio. ‘The Defence Department sent two of its men round. Todd Ransom seemed to know all about it. They carried out a bunch of tests on Martha Salliaq's body. Bone samples.'

‘Bone samples?' Edie asked. She recalled the memorandum among Charlie Salliaq's papers. A theme seemed to be emerging.

‘I wouldn't consider that to be standard procedure in this case. Bone samples would usually only be of importance if the body was skeletonized, or if there had been sharp or blunt force injuries which might have caused fracturing or breakage.' She glanced at the body on the gurney. ‘Were they lovers?'

At Derek's nod she looked away. The thought obviously pained her. Then she gathered herself and went on. ‘Bone fragmentation analysis is often used where there are gunshot wounds and in a number of other situations, none of which apply in the Martha Salliaq case. You'd biopsy bone marrow for toxicology purposes, especially if blood wasn't available.'

She pulled off her glasses and tried to wipe the tiredness from her face. Derek turned off the radio and the room fell silent once more.

‘What should I do now?' Mackie said.

‘Your job, Anna.' Derek laid a reassuring hand on the ME's shoulder. ‘We'll get to the bottom of this, I promise.'

Mackie let out a bitter laugh. ‘That's exactly what I'm afraid of.'

•   •   •

As they walked back out into the waiting room Edie updated Derek on her visit to the hotel.

‘I think Gutierrez left those papers somewhere they'd be found,' Edie said. ‘She was afraid for her safety.' She told him about the memorandum on animal bones. They looked at one another and smiled. They were getting somewhere.

As if on cue, Luc appeared carrying a set of files. Derek beckoned him over and asked him what he knew about bone marrow. The nurse paused a moment. ‘You're talking about Charlie.'

‘Should we be?' Derek said. He had that look of intense focus Edie had seen on him once or twice before. It was the look he only pulled out of the bag on special occasions, the look which transformed him from the Boonies policeman who spent his days rounding up stray dogs to the investigator capable of cracking cases that might well have confounded entire departments of big city cops.

‘Charlie's leukaemia. It's a disease of the bone marrow.'

Derek's eyes were sharp enough to cut water from the beach. ‘How do you get that, Luc?'

‘A variety of ways. Exposure to toxins, radiation.'

‘Contamination.'

‘Could be,' Luc said.

Derek turned to Edie but she was already one step ahead of him.

‘I'll go see the old man, tell him we need to look at his papers.'

•   •   •

Charlie Salliaq was propped up on a pillow, IVs leading from both arms to a frame from which several bags hung. Beside the bed a heart monitor peeped like a hungry fledgling. As they went in, he turned his head
very slowly, a thin smile on his lips. His face looked as broken as frost heave, the skin pale as winter.