Dan Sharp Mysteries 4-Book Bundle (66 page)

Unhappy Endings

Jags dropped by. He wore a linen suit and casual slacks. White cotton. Deliberately disobeying the fall fashion injunctive: no whites after Labour Day. Perhaps he thought the seasons stood still for him too.

Dan listened as he explained how he wanted to take him on permanently. Thanks to the interest stirred by his book, Jags had a new recording contract in the works. That meant studio time and eventually a tour. It could be worldwide if the response was big enough.

“But what would I do for you?” Dan asked. “You don't need me to keep you safe any more.”

“Maybe I just like having you around. I still need someone to tell me what's what.”

Dan leaned back in his chair, thought briefly of touring with a rock band, backstage passes, visas, vetting the press. “It's not for me,” he said.

Jags reacted predictably, offering him more money.

“Nah,” Dan said. “Besides, I don't like feeling that I can be bought. I'm still a puritan about some things. A little struggle is good for the soul. Money can't buy happiness.”

“No, but it can get you a really nice Porsche Carrera.”

Dan waited.

“I'll tell you a secret,” Jags said. “I'm sick of my life, Dan. I just don't know what else to be.”

“Why not go away for a while? Somewhere they don't know who you are.”

“Hey! There's no such place. I'll break your bones if you say there is.”

Dan laughed.

“You know what they say: tough guys don't dance. I ain't moving anywhere. Besides, I have to finish the recording. I've got at least one more great one inside me. I can feel it.”

“I hope that gives you reason to stay sober,” Dan said. “If you do, you could be back on top in no time.”

Jags snorted. “Yeah, for a year or two. You know what these entertainment industry assholes are like. When you're up they offer you the moon, but when you're down they can't remember your name or whether you ever existed.”

“I don't see you being that low on the totem pole.”

“Don't fool yourself. It's money we're talking about, not fame or artistic reputation. If I can't make someone a buck, I'm as good as dead.”

They hadn't really discussed the events of the previous few weeks. Dan thought they weren't going to when Jags suddenly mentioned Pfeiffer.

“It was that thing about making him take the host that really got me, you know? I can't say I've never been inside a church, but I can guarantee you I've never taken the host with anybody. I'm a devout Jew, for god's sakes.”

Dan thought for a moment. “That's not what your book said.”

Jags laughed. “Of course not. You think my rock-and-roll readers want to hear I'm a man of spirit?”

“So that story about growing up in smalltown Ontario wasn't true?”

“I was born on a kibbutz in Israel. Both my parents lived and died there. I have no family in Canada. The only part of my past I still have is a picture of them at their wedding.”

Dan pondered this. “Maybe you should tell the truth next time. That's far more colourful than saying you were raised in a middle-class home in Belleville.”

“Colour I don't need at this point in my life.”

The house was finished. Dan stood by the window in the newly completed sunroom. The place was amazingly still and quiet. It almost seemed like a dream home. But then that was what it was intended to be.

Two coffee mugs sat on the table. Dan's was empty, Trevor's half-full. They'd been up all night. Dan felt the fatigue.

He glanced at Trevor over the horizon of the tabletop, as though it represented the border of a possible but unimagined world, something beyond the ordinary, everyday world that confined and defined. He felt as if he were standing at the edge of the sea, trying to imagine what lay over the horizon, away from this place where everything ended.

He'd sent Ked off to his mother's again. Weekends were convenient for serious discussions like this. Ked would be heartbroken, he knew. There was nothing he could do about that. It was his own heart he should have been guarding.

Dan shook his head. “I'm not trying to make you feel guilty, if that's what you think.”

Trevor's brow furrowed. “I'd never think you would resort to emotional blackmail.” He paused. “I just wish you'd give it a chance. Live here for a while and see how it feels.”

“This was supposed to be our home. I can't live here without you.”

“You could try it for a while.”

Dan looked down the length of the house then back at Trevor. He shrugged. “My heart won't be in it. Besides, I can't afford the mortgage. I just realized I'm not cut out to be anybody's bodyguard. I've got to go back to my routine of finding deadbeat dads and other scum.”

“You'll make money. You're good at what you do.”

Dan looked off again. “I know.”

Trevor searched for the words that would inevitably cut the cord between them. “I don't want to be the one to drag everyone down. You and Ked have a great life here in the city. It suits you both far more than you know.”

“We could live apart. I'd fly out to see you on the weekends.”

Trevor smiled sadly. “I can't have you part-time, Dan. I couldn't do that. And it wouldn't solve anything. I don't belong here. You have to let me go.”

Dan saw it now, how Trevor was like a caged bird beating its wings against the bars, trying to remain tranquil, but all the while terrified and wanting to be free.

“I need to go back to my forest, my trees. Joe's ashes.”

“When?”

“Soon. But if you want me to leave right away …”

“I wouldn't dream of it.”

Trevor inclined his head. “It's got to be soon. No use dragging it out. This will be hard on both of us. Not to mention Ked. Your son and I have grown very fond of one another.”

“Ked's pretty adaptable. And I'll get along. The one I worry about is Ralph. He doesn't understand these things.”

He thought back to his meeting with Domingo at the restaurant, how she'd squeezed his hands and looked into his eyes.
You don't need me to tell you
, she'd said.
You already know how it will go
. Was it pathetic or amazing to think that he had known all along and still denied it? He'd been too dependent on the dream, the illusion that he and Trevor had a chance at making it work. Because he saw now they never had. Not really. Not because the love wasn't real or the need couldn't bind them together, but because other currents held sway. Some seed planted in both of them had been destined to sprout at this moment and drive them apart. Not the love that conquers, but the fear that divides. Dan felt all the security and serenity he'd been nurturing over the past year ebbing away. It would never return.

“In any case, the market is pretty good right now. My agent said she won't have trouble selling a ‘beautiful, newly renovated home in fabulous, trendy Corktown.' I'll make sure you get some of the proceeds, of course.”

Trevor shook his head. “I won't take a cent from you.”

“But I want you to have it.”

“I can't take it.”

“You could always give it away to the animal rescue shelter.”

Trevor smiled. “You can do that, if you like. I won't take your money.”

Dan watched him, wondering what he'd miss most: the gentle smile, the eyes that crinkled softly around the edges, or the deep, confident voice that hid so many fears and insecurities.

“So that's it then? Is there nothing I can say to make you change your mind?”

“I wish there was. I'm just too fragile to fit into your life. You won't be content till you've solved everyone's problems and put everything in its place. I would just worry us all to death and end up making you hate me. I'll still worry about you, for that matter. I'm sorry.”

Dan shook his head. “Don't be sorry. It had to happen, sooner or later. Better to happen before any more damage is done.”

“Yes.”

Rule Number Ten: The hero can never go home again.

Silence took hold for a moment.

This is it
, Dan thought. The ending. Finality. Everything stops here, like the last notes of a composer of genius squeezing out a few more drops of greatness on his deathbed, but one who has revealed himself mortal after all. He walked over to the table, cautious, not trusting things around him to remain intact, including the table and chairs. He sat and reality asserted itself, the laws of physics resuming their normal functioning, barely noticed by anyone. He looked over at Trevor, who somehow had never looked more beautiful, so glowingly right, despite the early hour and their mutual fatigue.

Dan recalled the first time they slept together, in Trevor's villa on his island sanctuary. He remembered the shape of those early tentative feelings: hesitant and wistful. It had felt as though something was beginning to fill in what had till then only been an outline. Miraculously, of course, because he hadn't known it was only an outline, like a cartoon figure breathed into life, or a kiss that awakens the sleeping lover, rising to meet the future with optimism; not knowing it had already eluded them, that it already lay in ruins behind them like the shape of what could never be.

A shadow fell across the table, dividing it into dark and light, as though everything was once again retreating to a mere outline.
The elusive mystery of life
, Dan thought.
We walk away from the edge, no longer daring to look at what might have been
. He sensed that he would carry this moment with him wherever he went, into every love affair, never finding what he was looking for: a life that does not grow old, a love that does not grow cold.

No one is dying here
, he told himself.
Life will continue
.

Perhaps that was the problem. He would stay here, in Toronto, and Trevor would return to his island. They would live apart, each knowing the other existed elsewhere, at the same time, but out of reach. Only just. He saw himself walking down a tree-lined street one day years from now, his feet scuffing the leaves and imagining for a moment that he was not alone, that Trevor was there beside him. Maybe he would recall a bit of conversation, speak a few words until he remembered and stopped himself before carrying on with a shrug.

“More coffee?” Dan asked.

Trevor looked over at him. “Sure. I'm going to need it.”

Dan picked up his cup and started to pour. Something stopped him. He looked out the window at his new backyard. Daylight was beginning to show at the edge of the sky. Here was one more day to get through, he thought. It sounded like a simple enough task, but then there would be all the others to follow after that.

It was time to start thinking about what he was going to do with them.

Thanks to Mark Round and Lyn Nottingham for patiently explaining to me the elusive whys and wherefores of police protocol and then some. I also extend my gratitude to the kind folks at Dundurn who make me smile and give me reason to write, as well as to David Tronetti for being a good and careful listener. Cheers to David Bowie for the late-night vibes that kept me going.

For all the courageous hearts.

“I only ask to be free. The butterflies are free.”

— Charles Dickens

L
eah
Sampson couldn't wait for the day to end. Twelve straight hours on the phone talking students through school jitters, boyfriend troubles, and suicidal thoughts was enough to make anyone go mad. Whoever said this generation had their shit together was dreaming in Technicolor. The problems she'd worked this lot through today had left her drained. A glass of Pinot, bowl of chocolate ice cream, and soak in a hot tub were long past due.

She turned her head as Wolf skirted past her desk to flop onto the couch positioned under a line of grimy windows. Darkness pressed against the glass and she glanced at her watch.
Ten to nine.
Ten more minutes and she'd be on her way home.

She tuned back into the girl's voice droning into her ear and waited for her to take a breath. “If he threatens to hit you again, call me back,” Leah said. “We'll talk further about your options. It'll be time to decide whether you want to make a change. Yes, call anytime. We're always here to help you through.”

She wearily hung up and looked across at Wolf, his long legs stretched out on the floor in front of him. His eyes were closed.

“What have you got on for tonight?” he asked.

A question inside of a question. He was really asking if she'd ended the affair. Had she stopped slinking around behind his back?

She couldn't risk him finding out what she'd done. Not yet.

“I'm going home,
alone
, and putting my feet up,” she said, using both hands to refasten the clip that held her long hair away from her face. “And I'll be in the library writing a paper tomorrow, so no chance of getting into trouble.”

Wolf's eyes flashed open; expressive green orbs flecked with gold. They were half of the reason why he'd been nicknamed a member of the animal kingdom. The other half lay in his mane of brown hair and full beard. She could have added his animal fierceness in bed, but that was an observation she'd attempted to seal away in her memory bank. Some days with more success than others.

He nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. “I'll walk you out if you're ready.”

She glanced at her watch again. Four minutes after nine. “Where the hell is Gail? She's taking over the line from me and late as usual.”

“Getting a coffee. She'll be back in a few.”

“I can't leave until she gets here.”

“I'll wait.”

With blessed kindness, the phone remained silent until Gail traipsed in at a quarter past. Leah grimaced in her direction, but Gail ignored the rebuke just as she ignored most subtleties in life. Spiky red hair, round face, and rounder body littered with cartoon character tattoos and piercings, her style was as unapologetic as her character. Yet, Leah had to admit that Gail had a way with the callers; an empathy one couldn't fake.

Gail balanced a coffee cup in one hand and a biology text and iPad under her arm. “How're our loonies doing today?” she asked. “I hope they had the grace to call you and didn't save up their anxieties for my shift.”

“Nice,” said Wolf, rubbing a hand through his beard. “If callers knew the sensitive face of Queen's University at the other end of the help line, they might think twice about sharing their secrets with you.”

“I'm just talking about the repeat loonies who wallow in messes of their own making.” Gail dropped into the swivel chair newly vacated by Leah and scattered her possessions across the desk. “Thank God for the rule never to meet any of them. Can you imagine?”

“The regulars have all phoned in this afternoon, I think,” Leah said. “Some more than once.” She grabbed her cellphone from the desk. “We're off then.” She turned her head so that Wolf didn't see her face. He'd know she was hiding something. He had a sixth sense when it came to her and lying.

They exited their office in the limestone house sandwiched next to the student centre on University Avenue. A cool breeze had come up from the direction of Lake Ontario and the air smelled of rain, dank, fecund vegetation, and earth worms. The fall semester had only begun four weeks ago, but the student problems never took a break. Summer, fall, winter, spring — each season had its own emotional issues. Leah noticed the asphalt was wet in the circle of light under a streetlamp. She shivered in her light T-shirt and denim skirt. Late September had brought in a welcome Indian summer. It had been a hot day when she left for work that morning. She hadn't thought to bring a jacket.

Wolf walked on the road side. He told her one night in bed that they'd been taught how to treat a girl in gym class: walk closest to the oncoming traffic, hold the door open, wear a condom. He'd taken it all to heart.

She'd been hurt at first when he ended their relationship. Hurt that he'd doubted her, then anger that finally resolved itself into acceptance. She'd been shocked when he told her the month before that he knew she was having an affair. It was exactly the wrong time for him to accuse her. He'd pressed for a name and she'd refused. Predictably, he'd made the leap that she was protecting a married man. She hadn't denied it, not even when Wolf told her they had to take a break from each other. It still made her chest constrict and her eyes burn to think he didn't want her anymore, that he could doubt her so easily. They reached a truce after a few weeks of not speaking. Now she was grateful for his brotherly presence in her life. It meant he might still come around and become something more. She just needed a bit more time.

“I've handed in my notice to Mark,” he said.

She stopped walking. “I hope it wasn't because of my …”

“No,” he interrupted quickly. “Our breakup had nothing to do with my decision. I just think it's time I got into the field. I've accepted a job with the Kingston Public School Board that starts next semester. I'm heading out west for a few weeks first.”

She caught up to him. “Then you'll come back to Kingston.” For a moment, she'd feared losing him altogether.

“For now.” He turned his head sideways and grinned at her. “I'll have an office, but will travel to different schools to work with the kids.”

“You'll be terrific. I'm jealous.”

“When you finish next year, I can put a word in for you too.”

“I'm not sure this kind of work is for me. I've had doubts lately.”

“It's the first you've said.”

“It's just all the pain, you know? People and their problems that never get resolved. I think they've finally worn me out.”

Wolf reached an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a hug. She let herself relax against him for a moment before pushing him away.

“I'm just thinking about it, okay? No decision yet.”

“Don't do anything rash. You're good at helping people, even if the results aren't always obvious. You have empathy.”

“I just can't distance myself.” Some of their troubles hit too close to home. She wanted to tell him about what she'd done, but couldn't bring herself to yet. She'd crossed lines, but wouldn't drag in anybody else. Still, her actions proved she wasn't professional enough for this field of work.

Wolf looked down Sydenham Street toward the house where she had an apartment. It was dark along the road, a street lamp burned out near her driveway. “I could walk you to your door if you'd like.”

“I thought you were meeting someone at the pub.”

“Yeah, but they can wait.”

“I'm fine, Wolf. You go.”

“You sure?”

“I'll see you in a couple of days.”

“Get some rest, then.” He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. She held onto his arm for a moment before he turned away. She would have liked to wrap her whole body around him and make things right. From the look in his eyes, she believed he wanted the same.

Leah walked briskly down Sydenham toward Johnson, chilled in her light clothing. At the walkway to the front door of the two-storey red brick house where she'd lived for the past two years, she stopped and looked back toward the corner. Wolf still stood in the shadows where the streets intersected, watching until she made it safely inside. Another gym class lesson well learned.

She smiled and waved at the same time he looked down to check his phone. She slowly lowered her hand. A feeling of sadness welled up unexpectedly. One day Wolf would find somebody else and this fragile friendship would slip away. Some things could never go back to what they were. It always went like that with the people who meant the most to her.
Sometimes you don't know what you've got till it's gone.

She started up the short walkway toward the house and surveyed the apartment windows. Lights on the main floor were off, but Becky appeared to be home on the second. Leah's spirits rose a bit. It looked like there'd be some company around for the weekend.

The house was built in the 1930s when front porches and bay windows were in vogue. Leah liked the old style elegance of the structure, even if time had worn the brick and peeled the paint on the wood detailing above the windows. Her one-bedroom apartment in the basement was cozy but definitely student digs. She'd filled it with IKEA furniture and her parents' cast offs. As soon as she finished her thesis, she planned to move into a nicer place and have a yard sale. The Queen's Help Line had promised her more hours whenever she had more time to give them. It would do until she made up her mind about the future.

The front door creaked open and she entered the hallway. An envelope lay at the base of the stairs, stark white against the grey carpet. She walked over and stooped to pick it up, flipping the envelope over to read the name as she straightened. Becky must have dropped it on her way upstairs.

Leah walked up the creaky stairs to the second floor landing and knocked on Becky's door. She could hear music and Becky talking on the phone when she leaned her ear against the wood. She listened for a while to see if Becky would hang up. After a minute or so, Leah knocked a second time before bending to slip the letter under the door. She would have liked to share a glass of wine and a chat, so she lingered a while longer before giving up and heading downstairs. For some reason she didn't feel like being alone this evening.

She flicked on the light switch at the head of the basement stairs and cursed as the light remained off. It was the second time the bulb had burned out within three weeks. She'd phone the landlord as soon as she got inside and get him to check the wiring. She should have insisted last time.

She stepped carefully down the steep stairwell, the light from the landing just enough to make out the outline of the steps. A mustiness seeped up from the basement concrete floor that no amount of air freshener could disguise. She'd bought a dehumidifier that helped slightly and lit a lot of incense, but it was time to start looking at apartment ads in the
Whig Standard
. Hopefully she'd find a better place not already rented for fall term.

At the bottom of the stairs, she felt in her pocket for her keys, then slid her hand down the door to the lock. She stopped with her hand on the knob and turned her head toward the laundry room. Was that a noise she'd heard or was fatigue making her jumpy? She listened for a moment more, her heart pounding like a jackhammer. Silence filled the space and she exhaled slowly. A braver person would have gone to look, but that would not be her. She had no desire to face a rat or other vermin in the dark.

It took three fumbling tries before she unlocked the door and opened it into her apartment. She stepped inside and felt along the wall to the light switch. She smiled when the room burst into brightness. At least the wiring problem hadn't entered her inner sanctum as she'd feared it might.

She reached back with her foot to shove the door closed. Instead of clicking shut, it swung back toward her. Her first thought was that dampness had warped the wood and the lock didn't catch as it should. “Dammit,” she said aloud.

She turned and took a step toward the door before her legs stopped working. Her eyes widened as her brain scrambled to make sense of what she was seeing. A person dressed entirely in black filled the opening like a character out of a slasher movie. Her first thought was how absurd they looked, but horror quickly followed. The hand she'd extended toward the door handle found her mouth. She let out a shriek.

The figure stepped inside her apartment and pushed the door shut. Their eyes stayed on hers. “Did you think this was a game?”

She shook her head but comprehension dawned. Her mind was scrambling, searching frantically for toeholds. The chance of Becky hearing her scream two floors above was remote. There was no chance of pushing past the person in the narrow hallway and even less chance to make it out the closed door without being grabbed.

“I have no idea what you want,” she heard herself beg. “Please just leave.” She stumbled backward, her leg banging against the wall.

The person took a step closer, leather-gloved hands reaching toward her. Leah turned to run into the living room, knowing she was trapped with no way out.

Knowing she was in very big trouble.