Bad Medicine (9 page)

Lisa's deep brown eyes, heavily outlined in black kohl, fixed on Jesse's face as if memorizing his look. "I'm sure Les didn't know anything about
Shannon
," she said. "He came in here yesterday morning, all excited. He said he'd come into some money and was taking off on a mission."

Jesse lifted his brows and frowned. "Any idea what kind of a mission?"

Lisa shook her head. "He wouldn't say. Les liked to act mysterious. Most of us figured Mr. Guthrie had given him a special assignment."

"Mr. Guthrie?"

"Eugene Guthrie. He's our leader." Lisa's eyes lit up when she spoke. "If it wasn't for Mr. Guthrie,
Vancouver Island
's rainforest would already have been destroyed by the corporate pirates."

"Sounds like an impressive leader. I bet Mr. Guthrie could help me with my investigation. Do you happen to know where I might find him?"

Lisa frowned. "He's a lawyer. Maybe you could call at his office. His number's in the phone book. I'll get it." She ran down the bar to a stack of books on the end, grabbed a ragged looking phone book and laid it down on the counter in front of Jesse. "His office is downtown somewhere." She thumbed through pages.

"Thanks. I appreciate that." Jesse took a card out of his pocket. "My contact numbers are on this card. If you see Les or think of anything else, I'd appreciate a call."

"Okay." She pushed the phone book in front of Jesse. "Here's the number." She held her finger over the name Guthrie & Associates.

"You've been very helpful." Jesse made a note of the address. "Thank you."

* * *

Outside, Jesse flagged a taxi and requested the Pacific Centre on
Georgia
. Settling back on the seat, he considered his approach to the lawyer.

Probably won't see me without an appointment but at least I can scope out his office and schedule a time for later.

The Pacific Centre's soaring glass entrance opened into a lobby with access to several multi-storied office towers and an underground shopping center. The complex, in the center of
Vancouver
's financial district, consisted of ten banks of elevators with individual offices identified by an electronic directory. Jesse skimmed the alpha list of names, found Guthrie & Associates on the 12th floor of the south tower and proceeded to the first bank left. On the 12th floor he followed a black and white tiled hallway until a double glass door displaying the name Guthrie & Associates in heavy black script identified his quarry.

"Hi, I'd like to see Eugene Guthrie," he said to the tall thin, redhead who peered at him through a pair of gold-rimmed glasses.

"Do you have an appointment?"

"No, and I suppose that's a cardinal sin." He flashed his best version of a good ol' boy grin.

Unaffected, the redhead shook her head.

"If you'll have a seat I'll summon Mr. Guthrie's assistant. Perhaps she can arrange an appointment."

"Thank you." Jesse strolled over to a row of chairs and took a seat. Moments later a plump brunette with a bright, round face trotted across the room.

"I understand you'd like to make an appointment with Mr. Guthrie." She stopped in front of Jesse and smiled.

"Hello," Jesse said, removing a card from his pocket and holding it out.

"It's a personal matter—concerning the death of a young woman working on one of the community service projects Mr. Guthrie is involved with. I realize this is an unorthodox call, but I represent the young woman's brother and I was hoping if you gave him my card and explained the situation he might give me a few moments."

The woman studied the card for a moment and then nodded at Jesse. "I can't promise," she said, "Mr. Guthrie is awfully busy, but I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks." Jesse smiled his gratitude and sat down to wait.

Ten minutes later the assistant returned, motioned Jesse to follow her down the hallway to a large corner office, where she opened the door and stepped aside for Jesse to enter.

Behind the desk, a thin faced man in his late forties or early fifties focused sharp brown eyes on Jesse's face and waited for him to speak.

"Thank you for seeing me." Jesse approached the desk and stuck out his hand.

"I'm pressed for time this morning." The man gave Jesse a limp handshake. His high-pitched voice went well with his gray hair and military moustache.

"Yes sir, I appreciate that." Jesse settled into one of the leather chairs facing Guthrie's over-sized desk. "I'm here on behalf of Alex Perrault. I believe you knew his sister?"

Jesse kept his eyes trained on Guthrie's face. Sure enough, just for a second, something flashed, and then disappeared. Recognition? Guilt? Knowledge? Jesse didn't know, but he damn sure intended to find out.

"I come across a lot of people in the course of my business and other activities. Is there some particular reason you believe I know this man's sister?"

"She's been working as a volunteer on an environmental project I understand you spearheaded. The Clayoquot Sound Group."

"There are a lot of young people working on my projects. I value them and admire their dedication, but naturally with so many, I don't know all their names."

"I understand. But
Shannon
—that's her name—might stand out for you because her name's been in the papers. She was murdered last week."

"That poor girl they found in the park. I didn't realize she was one of ours." Guthrie's mustache twitched and his expression softened. "What can I do to help?"

That was more like it. At least this stiff-necked lawyer was finally showing some emotion. "Perhaps this picture will refresh your memory," Jesse pulled out one of the snapshots and handed it across the desk.

"Yes. I remember now. Young girl—in fact I questioned her at our Tuesday meeting as to whether her parents knew where she was—most of our volunteers are older and I wanted to make certain she had parental approval."

Jesse perked up. So, Shannon had attended the meeting Tuesday night, he needed to question those volunteers, find out if anyone knew where
Shannon
went after the meeting.

Jesse held out his hand for the photo. "Do you have any objections to my attending one of your meetings and questioning the other volunteers?" He rose to his feet and placed
Shannon
's photo back in his pocket.

Guthrie studied Jesse for several moments and then shrugged.

"The meetings are open, but as far as giving you permission to question anyone, I'm afraid that's not up to me. All of those kids are volunteers, so any questions they want to answer would be up to them."

"That's fair. I'm trying to help Alex find out what happened to his sister. I'm sure most of them will be sympathetic."

"I meant no offense," Guthrie came around his desk and offered his hand again. "I'm just being careful not to make commitments that aren't mine to make. We meet Tuesdays and Thursdays in the little house back of
Britannia
Recreation
Center
."

"Thanks," Jesse accepted Guthrie's limp hand.

Chapter Nine

The wind howled across the deserted beach whirling sand into dirt devils and pushing them out into the churning waters. A boy and girl, college students from the University of British Columbia, walked side by side, hands clasped, enjoying the secluded stretch of Wreck Beach where clothing optional still ruled.

"I feel so free," the girl said, turning toward the boy and pressing her breasts against his chest.

"Wowsa." He pulled her closer, his hands sliding down her back and gripping her butt cheeks.

"Not here," she whispered. "Someone might come along. Let's climb that hill. The weeds are thick up there, they'll hide us."

"Let's go." He grabbed her hand and started running, pulling her with him. Laughing and stumbling they reached the bank and scrambled into the undergrowth. When they entered a patch of cat tails the boy grabbed his girl around the waist and they tumbled to the ground mouths locked, arms and legs entwined, rolling together in a tangle of limbs until they lodged —girl atop boy—against an old log.

"That was awesome." Sarah laughed into the wind. Raising her head she glanced over the fallen log. Abruptly her laughter turned into a horrified cry and she clung to the boy like a limpet. "Oh my God," she whispered.

"What's the matter?" The boy wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted himself into a sitting position. "I can't see anything." He strained his neck to peer over her shoulder and see behind the log. "Oh shit." He cursed, finally getting a good look. "She's dead."

"How do you know?"

"Look at her face. No live person ever looked like that."

"Shouldn't we make sure?"

"Okay. But I'm telling you, she's dead." He clambered over the log and pressed his fingers against her throat. "She's cold." He shuddered at the touch and yanked his hand away. "Like I said, she's dead."

"What should we do?"

"We're getting the hell out of here. If she was murdered the killer could still be around."

"Oh my God. What if he's watching us?"

"Be quiet.
 
I'm calling 911 right now."

The boy spoke into the phone giving their location and describing the body.

"Come on." He pulled the girl to her feet. "There's a driveway a couple hundred yards up the beach. The cops are going to meet us there. Let's go." He grabbed the girl's hand and they ran as fast as their legs would carry them down the beach and away from the horror they'd just seen.

* * *

"You were right," Jesse said, hanging up the phone and turning to Martine. "That was Hanson. The girl they found on
Wreak
Beach
last night was Amy."

"Poor kid. She didn't deserve that."

"They found another medicine card. The crow this time."

"Do you know what it means?"

"I think it's Law or Justice, something like that. Maybe the killer's trying to tell us he's above the law."

"Arrogant bastard. Is Lyle still in custody?"

"He's being released this morning. The cops found a witness that remembered seeing Lyle in the theatre Tuesday night. The witness swears that he sat two seats over from Lyle, who was alone, and neither of them left their seats during the film. The man remembered Lyle particularly because he was wearing a bear claw necklace. He asked about the necklace and Lyle told him it was a polar bear. The movie started at 8:30 and ended at 10:40. According to the Medical Examiner Shannon died around nine so Lyle's no longer a suspect."

Martine shuddered. "I'm glad it wasn't Lyle, and I sure hope you're right about it being a white man. If the killer is Native our people are going to be the ones to suffer."

"The fact that Amy's white will turn this into a witch hunt. Hanson's going to be under so much pressure to make an arrest that nobody who knew
Shannon
or Amy is going to be safe."

Chapter Ten

Martine accepted Jesse’s invitation to share a pizza while they brainstormed their next moves in the investigation. Things went great and Jesse was beginning to hope they might even move their relationship up a notch, when Martine told him that she intended on going to the Clayoquot sound meeting the next night. Without thinking, Jesse told her it wasn't safe and he should go in her place. That, of course, had been stupid. Martine told him in no uncertain terms that just because his mind was set on getting into her pants, didn’t give him the right to go all macho protective on her, and in the future there would be no more shared pizza or anything else between them. She had stormed out the door and gone home and Jesse spent the night trying to figure out how he could get back in her good graces.