Final Act (11 page)

“Come on Kate, you know
w
e’ll have the reports whenever George is good and ready and not before.  Our esteemed pathologist has only been married for three months so I
’m guessing
he’s more interested in working on live bodies
.”

“
Funny
. 
I’m off to interview Catherine.  Good luck with
Henry
Ward.”

The two partners
checked into the precinct car pool t
ogether
then went their separate ways
.

Chapter 3

Kate’s friend,
the Reverend
Hanya George
,
Anglican Priest and part-time University lecturer,
leaned back in her chair,
propped
her
legs on the desk, and
scowled at the picture of
the 2008
Class of
Theological
students hanging
on the wall.
Darn
trouble with office sharing
, you can’t
pick and choose the decor
, she thought
.
  
 

Her scowl turned to a deep frown as
her thoughts
moved
on
to her
meeting with Chris, her supervisor.  She rehearsed varied conversations to use in her pitch for support for her student’s proposed outing
. 

Easing her numb legs down from the desk, s
he stood, stretched and walked to the window, hoisted it high and breathed in the fall air. 
The crimson and orange colours of the oak leaves were breathtaking.
 
Nothing but s
how offs
, shamelessly
flaunting
their
colours at the lone
pine
.

The cool air began to turn her less than warm office
colder so
she closed the window and put on the kettle
.  Ten minutes later, she was seated again in the chair, sipping her tea,
legs under the desk.  Tea always helped to calm her.  She had so many memories of her grandmother putting the kettle on whenever there was an upset. 
 

The ring of the phone interrupted her musings. 

“Hello
S
tone
, how’s it going?”

Only one person calls me by the Aboriginal meaning of my name
.

“It goes
, Camira
.  What’s up?
”

“I need to
talk to
you.
”

“
Are you okay?
”

“
I saw something
I wished I hadn’t and it’s got me spooked.”

“What did you see?”

“I can’t
talk
about it
over the phone.  Can you
come over?”

“I’m meeting with Chris,
followed by
two lectures
back-to-back, one at the University Library and the other at the Reserve – brainstorming with ways the women’s group to organize the next election for a new Chief
,
female, I hope. T
hen
it’s
off to the council meeting
in the city
a
t
7:00pm.  If it’s really important, I’ll
cancel
the council meeting.”

“No, don’t cancel, it can wait until later.  What time do you think you’d be here?”

“By
10
:00 at the latest.”

“
Hanya, please make sure you come.  I don’t care how late it is.”

“No
worries
, put the
kettle
on, I’ll be there.
”

Hanya was puzzled
.  It wasn’t
typical
of her cousin’s
behaviour
.
 
They were close but both of them were
both guarded their
independen
ce.
  She couldn’t remember the last time Camira sounded
needy
but she will always remember the first time
she
met
her
.

She was standing on
their grandmother’s
doorstep clutching a
torn
, dirty
,
yellow Snow White b
ackpack
.  Her parents
had dropped her off
and it was the last anyone saw
of
them
– they never came back. 
At six years of age, the skinny, stringing hair kid with a bruised heart, moved into
Hanya’s room
and
into
her
heart. 

Two cousins, whose grief over lost parents
bonded
them
tighter than blood sisters
. 
  Hanya
’s father had died when she was eight years old in a prison fight.  Her mother died a month later
of
an overdose
. 
At
least I knew what happened to my parents.  Camira never did.  It was as if
her parents
had been
wiped off the face of the earth
.
 

Their
alliance
born from pain never failed.  It held throughout their shared
home life
with their grandmother
,
on
the school yard, and
the
drug saturated reserve
.
Maybe I should cancel
tonight’s meeting.  No,
Camira said it could wait until after the meeting. 

She answered the
knock
at
the door
.
John
, one of her students,
stood there, a goofy smile on his face, books in hand.  She
forgot
she had
penciled him in for 15 minutes. 

***

Roger sat behind the wheel of the unmarked car, pulled out his cell and punched in Randy’s number.

“Yeah
.”

“Caught you napping didn’t I?”

“For Christ sake’s Roger, what do you expect? 
The sun
’s not
even up yet.
”

“
Oh
yes it is, heading
for mid-day as we speak. 
Wouldn’t think of disturbing you but
I
can’t make the race
this afternoon
.  You
know
the one where my
Mustang su
cks your wreck up my tailpipe.”

“Shit.  We need the trial run to get ready for the
big race.
  Don’t go backing out on me now.”

“
Aren’t you the
princess
this
morning
!
  I’m on a case.”

“Yeah
, well, that sucks, couldn’t happen at a better time
. 
I don’t suppose someone can fill in for you?”

“Are you kidding?
 
Loan my baby
to one of your seedy friends, not on a bet. 
No one sits behind that wheel except me.
”

“
Okay. 
I’ll see if that useless brother-in-law of mine will drive the spare.
Take it easy man, watch your back.”

“Always.”

One more call
to make
. 
He reached v
oice mail
.  Of course,
she’s
working the 7 am shift
, morning rounds
. 
He left a message.
 
“
Hey, Sara,
listen,
t
onight’s n
ot going to work.  Sorry babe, w
e’ve got a hot, high profile
case
.
Watch the evening news; you’ll see what I mean. 
Call when I can.” 

A disturbing
realization hit him on the drive to the theatre.  Cancelling his date with Sara was disappointing; cancelling the car race was devastating.
 
No contest.
The
growl
of the engines, screaming tires, lightning speed pit stops,
crashes, near misses,
the roar of the crowd,
spiked an overwhelming, exhilarating, exhausting and glorious passion
in his soul
.
A
infatuation
that was as strong today as it was back then
when he was 15 years old and his father took him to Nascar
.

When he got back home,
h
e
beg
g
ed,
pleaded,
grovelled before his parents, offering to
mow lawns, wash car
s
,
clean bathrooms,
weed flower bed
s
,
give up Christmas gifts
,
if
they
would spring for
the 64 Chevy
one of buddies had for sale. 

N
agg
ing
day and night until t
hey folded and for the next two years he spent his free time
breaking down and rebuilding the car in
the family garage. 
P
assion for girls
came second
and
,
still does.

P
ull
ing
into the empty parking spot across the street from the theatre
, he
walked towards the glass door entrance, saw two men, toe to toe,
their yells reaching his ears.
He moved fast and in seconds was inside the building
.
 

“Hey
, you two,
cool it before someone gets hurt.”

Henry and Andrew each took a step back, both breathing hard.

“What the hell is going on?”

Andrew spoke first.  Henry still hadn’t caught his breath.

“Everything’s cool.  We got heated over nothing.  Isn’t that right
,
Henry?”

Henry nodded
.
 
“
A dispute over the next production, that’s all.”

“Yeah”, Andrew said.  “I’m out of here.  We’ll talk later
,
Henry.” 

Roger watched Andrew cross the street and get into his car.  Henry locked the door and motioned for Roger to follow him. 

“Sorry about that.  Arguments are par for the course in this business.  Nothing serious, it’ll blow over.” 

Would hate to see a serious one, Roger thought, but he
said nothing, filed it away for now
. 
Ward unlocked the
door of
the Director’s office
, seated himself behind the desk and pointed to the chair facing him.
 

Roger recognized a power move when he saw one.
 
He
put the tape recorder on the desk
,
stepped back, leaned against the filing cabinet,
his
legs crossed at the ankles, hands in his pockets.

“I’
ll stand if you don’t mind.”

Ward’s face said he minded
.

“
I assume you know why I’m here
,
Mr. Ward.”

“Yes, of course.  You guys couldn’t get to question me yesterday because you chose to go in alphabetical order and ran out of time. 
So, a
sk away.”

“
Apparently, you and the deceased
worked closely together over the past few years.  Like to fill me in on your impressions?”

“Yes.  I met Jeffrey
when he was appointed Director of the rep group two or three years ago. 
I
was already established – I
come from a long line of actors
and
producers
, m
y mother rehearsed her lines while breast feeding me. 
I’ve been Production manager slash producer for the past nine years.  Earned my reputation and kudos at the Neptune Theatre but always like the underdog so came to this one five years ago.