Deadly Fall (24 page)

They veered around a toddler riding a tricycle. The bike clanged over the sidewalk joints behind them. The child sped up, passed them on the grass, and pedaled up his driveway.

“If I hadn't had Dimitri,” Anne said, “I might not have had children at all. Doug was wary of having kids of his own. His father and uncles all died in their forties and fifties from heart disease and diabetes, which Doug inherited. It sounds calculating, but Dimitri benefited from getting Sam's genetics and Doug's parenting.”

The dead-end street led to a sidewalk. They climbed up the stairs to the pedestrian overpass. Even Anne was puffing by the top. Traffic roared beneath them down the Crowchild Trail. Clouds covered the sky. They removed their sunglasses. The hospital jutted like a castle behind the trees. If Paula didn't raise the issue now, there might not be another chance. No one else had rushed to be the first to tell Anne.

Paula stared at Anne's profile: pointed nose, small round chin. “Kenneth told me something else last night.”

“What?” Anne turned toward her, heart-shaped face alert.

“It's about Dimitri.”

Worry clouded Anne's hazel eyes.

“Callie and Sam were never involved. Their marriage was a cover for her affair with Dimitri. It began over two years ago and ended last spring.”

Anne's mouth opened. She didn't speak.

“I still hardly believe it myself,” Paula said.

“Dimitri,” Anne croaked. “Callie.”

“I know.”

Anne coughed to clear her throat. “She's twice his age. She's my age.”

But looked and acted much younger than Anne, whose stunned face was more wrinkled than Paula had noticed before.

Anne rocked from foot to foot, trying to steady herself. “Kenneth told you this?”

“He was in on it from the start. Sam convinced him to go along.”

“I see Kenneth at least once a month. He's never said anything. It can't be true. Someone would have told me.”

“Kenneth thinks the only other person who knows is Felix.”

“Felix?” Anne shrieked above the traffic din. “He kept this from me, too?”

“They probably figured why worry you, since it was bound to end, which it did about five months ago, when Callie broke it off.”

Anne gripped the railing and stared down. She looked ready to somersault onto the cars. No wonder the others had hidden the affair from her. She hadn't yet grasped the worst: her son was now a prime suspect for murder.

“Here I was afraid Dimitri had something going on with Callie's niece,” Anne said.

“Isabelle? I know they're friendly—”

“Felix had a barbecue Labor Day weekend, a bon voyage party for Dimitri.”

Anne had told Paula about the barbecue; she hadn't mentioned Isabelle.

“You should have seen Dimitri and Isabelle together. I worried he was throwing his career away for that silly girl. Callie was a married woman, twenty years older than him. It would have been disastrous.”

“That was the reason for the cover.”

“Whose idea was that? Sam's, I bet. It explains so many things. Dimitri always stayed at Sam's house when he was in town.” Anne's jaw went slack. Her face turned white. “Did you say Callie broke it off? When? Do the police know about this?”

Paula touched Anne's hand. “They do now.” How would Paula feel if one of her daughters was in this kind of trouble? Anne's fingers were cold and shaking.

“Have they arrested him?” Anne's voice was barely audible above the cars.

“Not that I'm aware. This is only circumstantial evidence against him. Maybe he has an alibi.”

Anne's eyes lit up with hope, but if Dimitri had one, Sam wouldn't be so worried.

“Dimitri's in Ottawa now,” Anne said. “Will the cops there talk to him?”

“Probably.”

“I'm sure he's innocent.”

Paula ran her hand through her hair, avoiding the expected agreement.

“You don't believe he is?” Anne looked panicked. “Did Callie tell you something? Did you hide it from me, too? What did she say?”

“Nothing.”

“Tell me.”

“I swear.” Paula backed into the railing.

Anne raised her arms as though to grab Paula by the shirt. Paula moved sideways. It was a twenty foot drop to the freeway and she didn't want Anne pushing her over the railing by accident.

“Callie told me nothing,” Paula insisted. “It bugs me she didn't. We were supposed to be friends. Didn't she trust me?”

Anne took deep, heaving breaths. The white left her face. She looked calmer, almost normal. Still, it would be wise to get off the overpass.

“I suppose,” Anne said, “Callie was afraid if you knew, you'd let something slip during our workouts.”

“That might be part of it.”

“A sham marriage,” Anne said. “Trust Sam to come up with a scheme like that.”

“Kenneth says Sam, Callie, Felix, and Dimitri planned it together.”

“It was Sam. He's the worst drama queen. Why solve a problem with a simple approach when there's a convoluted, complicated way.”

“Drama queen?”

“Why didn't Sam tell the cops about this . . . arrangement?”

“He knew it would make Dimitri a suspect.”

“Didn't he realize keeping it secret makes it worse when it finally comes out?”

“Sam was hoping the murder would be settled before it did.”

“Why didn't Kenneth come out with it, then?”

“That's a good question.”

“Felix goes along with whatever Sam says. Kenneth . . . I can't understand him. Yes, I do. He loves Callie. He must be furious at Dimitri for stealing her. He's also smart enough to see that holding it back would put the screws on his rival.”

“I don't think Kenneth would be so cruel.” Although he could be ruthless in business; Anne's theory made sense.

Anne rolled her hands into fists. “I hate him.”

“Kenneth?”

The anger drifted from Anne's face as she struggled to regain control. “I don't really mean that. He's a good friend, my husband's best friend and, in a way, I admire his devotion to Callie. I just feel so . . .”

“Helpless?”

Anne thrust her chin forward. “Dimitri didn't kill her. I'm his mother. I know.”

“I'm going to try Dimitri's assistant.” Anne flipped open her cell phone.

“He didn't answer the last two times,” Paula said. Nor had Dimitri answered Anne's calls to his cell phone and Ottawa residence.

They continued through St. Andrew's Heights. While house hunting, Paula had considered a bungalow here. Its location near the hospital might have been useful for her old age, but the house hadn't grabbed her. Anne punched her cell phone keys. To Paula's surprise, this time Dimitri's assistant picked up.

“He did?” Anne spoke into cell. “Why? . . . When? . . . If he contacts you, tell him I'd like to talk to him tonight . . .” Anne closed her cell. “Dimitri is flying home for the weekend. His plane arrives around four thirty.”

“He just left for Ottawa on Monday.”

“He told the assistant he had to see his father.”

“Sam?”

“Doug, in hospital.” Anne's lips narrowed. “That's an excuse. Dimitri and I specifically agreed he didn't need to be here.”

They reached the ledge overlooking the Bow River. Across the river, evergreens rose up to homes sparkling white in the afternoon sun.

“Do you think the police contacted him?” Paula said.

“Or someone did.”

“Sam—”

“Dimitri's assistant overheard him call the woman who takes care of his condo while he's away. He asked her to air the place out for his arrival.” Anne opened her cell. “I'll try him again.”

“Won't he be on the plane?”

“Something's happened. I know it. I'd go meet him at the house if it weren't for Doug . . . and the maintenance man. I don't trust him to fix those machines.”

“That can wait until tomorrow.”

“I can't let my customers down. They've been complaining about the elliptical.”

“Phone him when the plane gets in.”

“He won't answer.” Anne shook her head. “If this were a normal visit, he'd go to Sam's house. When Dimitri's deeply in trouble, he retreats. It isn't healthy for him to brood.”

“You could ask Sam to go see him.”

“No.” Anne's eyes slit. “He's caused enough problems already.”

“I could go.” Where had that come from?

Anne's face brightened. “Would you?”

“I've cleared my workload for the rest of the day,” Paula said. “I don't know what I can do.”

“You'd ease my mind that he's all right.”

“Where is his condo?”

“Over there.” Anne motioned across the river. “I really appreciate this, Paula. You're a good friend.”

Or a curious one.

Since it wasn't
much past two o'clock, Paula could walk back to the fitness center, pick up her car, drive home, then go see Dimitri. But her former home wasn't far from here. She decided to kill the remaining afternoon hours by hopping a bus to check out the damage Erin's tenants had caused to the bedroom.

The bus dropped her off on familiar streets shaded by poplars and willows. When she and Gary moved to Calgary, they had chosen a renovated bungalow over the larger, newer homes farther from the city center. The girls' bedrooms and
TV
space were in the basement. She and Gary had a master suite on the main floor. The house had served them well, but, while there, had she ever been content? She had spent the first few years settling in and the rest dealing with Gary's betrayal. He was the last man she would have picked to have an affair. Maybe not the very last, but he was fundamentally decent. He couldn't pass a street person without tossing him a dollar and treated some of them regularly to coffee and lunch. Who would have thought a scheming bitch would take advantage of his kindness, sucking him in with feigned helplessness?

She crunched over dry, fallen leaves. The bitch part was true, but the woman couldn't have schemed her way into a vital relationship. After his confession, in the midst of Paula's rants Gary had lobbed his share of barbs. “You know, Paula,” he said, “you left the marriage first.” And she had, involving herself in work, children, friends, extended family responsibilities to the point where all she talked about with him was work, kids, friends, family. Never them, as a couple. Could she and Gary have worked through the affair and possibly made the marriage stronger? Callie had urged her to give it a try. Anne agreed with Paula to boot Gary out. Gary said, “I knew we'd be finished the minute you found out. You don't cut people slack.” Callie didn't understand why that barb had hurt. “Paula, you admit, yourself, you're judgmental.” Well, shouldn't there be standards? Most important was she happy now with the end result? Before Hayden, there had been lonely nights when she'd wished she'd cut Gary slack, worked through their problems. But, even then, what she'd missed was companionship, not Gary in particular. Gary was right; she had left the marriage first.

Finding herself on her porch, she pressed the doorbell. No answer. She rang it again. Erin and her renters must be off at university. Paula let herself into the usual jumble of shoes piled in the entranceway and closet jammed with jackets, more shoes, and soccer balls. A smell of rotten eggs made her nose twitch. Newspapers and clothes littered the living room coffee table and sofa. Dirty dishes covered the kitchen counter. More of them filled the sink, where they were rinsed by a dripping faucet that could easily be fixed if one of them bothered to buy a washer.

She followed the odor to the small bedroom in the front. Whew. Why hadn't they thought to open the window? The room was empty, the couple having taken their furnishings. They had bashed in the wall next to the closet with what might have been a baseball bat. Felt marker sketches covered the walls. Some were cartoons. Superman flew above the window. The Road Runner chased Bugs Bunny to the light switch. Other drawings looked like illustrations from the Kama Sutra. One showed a couple doing it doggy-style. She cocked her head, unable to determine either participant's gender. The artwork was actually pretty good. It was almost a shame to paint over it. She and Hayden could easily patch the bashed hole this weekend. The illustrations might inspire them. The truth was she would rather go to Kananaskis with Sam, and that would be pushing Hayden too far. She and Hayden were compatible. It was a little boring, but why break off a reasonably satisfying six-month relationship for a man who preferred drama to commitment? Callie would ask, “Is ‘reasonably satisfying' enough? Why are you staying with Hayden?”

Because he can't hurt me, not to the core as Gary had. So could Sam, if I let him.

Dimitri squinted
at her. Even after Paula introduced herself, it took him a few seconds to remember who she was. “Did Sam send you?”

He looked angry enough to slam the door in her face. Instead, he motioned her into the condo with his bottle of beer. An L-shaped counter separated the kitchen from the dining area and living room, which was at the back. No lights were on. Closed blinds made the main floor even darker. Folk music wafted from the
CD
player. Dimitri's feet were bare. His black muscle shirt clung to his arms and pecs; blue jeans hugged his hips. His tousled hair framed a handsome young face, with Sam's strong bones. Paula could see his appeal to Callie.

His breath reeked of beer. Spidery red veins crawled through the whites of his hazel eyes. Four empty Corona bottles sat on the countertop. She accepted his offer of a beer. He led her into the living room, flicked off the
CD
and settled on the white love seat facing the fireplace. She took the matching one that lined the back wall. A Bible lay on the glass coffee table. A bookmark stuck out of it, near the beginning of the book.