Hungry Ghosts (33 page)

“Please don't do this,” she begged. “You are making a terrible mistake.”

“You stupid bitch,” Labelle said and pushed Maria down. She put her full weight on Maria's back, then wrapped her arm tightly around her throat.

64

“But Ricardo,” said Apiro, hopping off
his chair. “Denise. That is the name of Maria's friend, the Canadian woman who is going to the zoo with her today.”

“Are you sure?”

Apiro's eyes widened. “She's been giving Maria presents all week.”

“Hector, Maria could be in real danger. Does she have a cell phone?”

“An illegal one, yes, of course.” Apiro dialed the number. “There's no answer. Ricardo, those two women who were murdered were found not far from the zoo.”

“Then let's get going.”

Apiro ran behind Ramirez down the stairs, his short legs pumping as they headed to the parking lot. Ramirez jumped in his car and started the ignition. Apiro strapped himself in. “Please, drive quickly, Ricardo. As fast as you can.”

They raced down Airport Road, dodging cars, bikes, stray dogs. Ramirez swerved to avoid hitting a man pushing a cart full of watermelons across the highway.

“Will she take Maria back to the same place?” asked Apiro.

“I hope so,” said Ramirez. “If she doesn't, they could be anywhere.”

“There's the Peugeot,” Apiro said, pointing to a red car parked on the shoulder. “Look at the plate.” The maroon plate had a “T” for
turista
. “Quick, stop the car.”

Ramirez skidded to a halt. He and Apiro jumped out and cautiously approached the rental car. Ramirez removed his gun from his shoulder holster. He peered inside, but the vehicle was empty.

“That's Maria's tote bag on the back seat,” Apiro said, his voice tight with stress.

“They must be in the woods. Wait here, Hector. We have no idea what kind of weapon this woman may have, but we know she's extremely dangerous.”

“Believe me, so am I right now,” said Apiro. “I'm going with you.”

They entered the woods slowly. Ramirez held his gun out as they approached the yellow caution tape, steadying it with both hands. What happened next ended in seconds, but Ramirez would replay it later in his mind like the museum surveillance tape, rewinding the images over and over.

Maria lay on her stomach beneath the blue mahoe trees. A woman straddled her body, her forearm pulled tight around Maria's throat. A metal cane rested beside Maria's limp body.

Apiro ran forward and lunged for the cane. He grabbed it just as the woman looked up, before Ramirez could stop him. He swung
the cane in an arc. It made a sickening thud as it connected with the side of the woman's head.

“Hector, you'll kill her! Don't hit her again,” Ramirez shouted, jamming his gun in his holster and running forward. It took all his strength to pry the cane from Apiro's fingers. But afterwards he wondered if he should have stopped him at all.

65

They sat in the dingy hallway
of the emergency room at the hospital. The fluorescent lights flickered. Apiro looked deflated, even smaller than unusual. “First, do no harm. That's the oath I took, Ricardo.” He held his large head in his hands, tears in his eyes. “I was so angry. I wanted to kill her. I fractured her skull.”

“I would have done the same thing if it was Francesca lying on the ground, my friend, believe me,” said Ramirez.

“If I had hit her again, she would have died.”

“But you didn't, and she didn't. And Maria's alive. That's all that matters.”

“I suppose you'll have to charge me with aggravated assault or attempted murder. How long will I spend in jail?”

“For what?” said Ramirez. He put his hand on Apiro's shoulder. “The prisoner is unsteady on her feet. She needs a cane. She fell as she was getting into my car to accompany us to headquarters for questioning. She hit her head on the road. It happens.”

“I can't falsify a medical report, Ricardo. You know that.”

“You don't have to, Hector.” Ramirez smiled. “I can. Besides, that's the story I've already told the emergency physician. I should at least be consistent. Believe me, no one will contradict it, not when it comes to a cold-blooded killer like this one.”

Ramirez gave his friend's shoulder a squeeze. “Detective Espinoza radioed me a few minutes ago. They found nothing incriminating in the rental car, but Señora Labelle had a digital camera in her purse with photographs of LaNeva Otero. They're searching her hotel room right now. Espinoza says they've found another purse there as well. He is going to see if Juan Otero recognizes it. I think Denise Labelle gave each of her victims a new purse and took theirs as souvenirs. You were right. It wasn't only what she left behind at the crime scenes that was important, but also what she removed.”

The emergency physician approached them. Apiro leaped to his feet. “How is Maria? Is she all right?”

“She's awake.” He smiled. “Go ahead, Dr. Apiro. You can see her now.”

Apiro rushed down the corridor.

The physician turned to Ramirez. “She'll have a sore throat for a few days. She'll have to sip liquids through a straw. And suck on chips of ice, if she can find any. But she'll be fine.” He lowered his voice. “Inspector Ramirez, are you aware that this victim is transgendered? Her hyoid bone is much larger than that of a woman. That may have helped her survive this attack. Was this the reason for the assault?”

“No. I don't think her attacker had any idea about her gender. Most people wouldn't,” said Ramirez. “There's no need to say anything about this to Dr. Apiro. And if you can avoid putting any reference to it in your report, I'd appreciate it. As you can see”—he inclined his head down the hall—“they're emotionally involved.”

“Dr. Apiro doesn't know?”

“I'm sure he does, but he doesn't need to know that I do. Besides,
I'll have to file a copy of your report with the Canadian authorities. Maria's assailant won't be going to trial in Cuba, but she faces serious charges in Canada. The Minister of the Interior has instructed that she be returned there immediately. He wants her own people to deal with her. I'd like to see Maria's private medical information kept out of those reports.”

The minister had no more interest in a nearly dead
jinetera
than he had in a dead one—he wanted the problem gone, particularly when a Cuban trial for the murder of two
jineteras
and the attempted murder of another would publicly expose Manuel Flores's treason. But Ramirez didn't want to give him another ground for blackmail.

The physician shrugged. “I don't have to mention it. It's not relevant.”

Ramirez thanked him and walked down the dingy hallway. He poked his head into Maria's room. She was propped up on the bed, looking pale and vulnerable. Her neck was badly bruised. Apiro was standing beside her, holding her slender hand in his large one.

“Will you be all right if I leave you here with Maria, Hector? I have to go to the train station to pick up my family this evening. Detective Espinoza will be over shortly, if you need anything. I really should get going. There are a few things I need to do before Francesca and the children get home.”

“Of course,
asere
,” said Apiro. “Ricardo, I'm so grateful. I can't tell you how much I owe you. How much we both owe you.”

Maria tried to speak, but the only sound she made was a croak. She put a hand to her throat and shrugged helplessly.

Ramirez smiled. “I'm glad it all worked out. You're a lucky man, Hector, to have found a woman like Maria. Most men I know would envy you.”

66

The elder held
Pagidaendijigewin,
the ritual
of the dead. He placed a small pile of tobacco in a clamshell and lit it with a match. He smudged everyone present at Freda Wabigoon's wake, cleansing the air, their spirits. He waved an eagle feather above the clamshell, sending smoke over each person's face and chest. The smoke would carry their words and prayers skyward to
Gitche Manitou
, the great unknown.

Outside the gymnasium, the sky was a cold, bright, clear blue. There were no storm clouds to be seen. The sky gods had settled down.

“The souls of the dead, on their journey to the great meadow, must walk a narrow path across a river,” the elder said in English. “Those who are hurtful to others always fall.” His voice softened as he switched to Ojibway.

“
Mam'oon o'w, giwii-wiidooka.
We say goodbye today to a beloved wife, mother, and daughter. She followed the path of life.
She honoured our brothers: the wolf, the snail, the bear, the whitefish, the eagle, and the trout. She understood that nature is our teacher.”

He put the pipe down and reached for his small drum. He sang travelling songs as he thumped it with his hand.

When the prayers and songs were over, the elder spoke directly to the spirit of Freda Wabigoon. He told her what to expect in her travels, and how to behave when she reached the lands of souls. “I know your spirit hears me, Freda. Be careful as you walk. Watch for the blue light, and listen for running water. Those are your guides. In four days, my sister, you will leave us.
K'd'ninguzhimim, ­wauwkweeng k'd'izhau
.” To the land of souls, you are bound.

When the elder was finished, he handed Bill Wabigoon a small piece of folded birch bark that contained a braid of Freda's hair.

As people mingled, Charlie Pike solemnly shook Pauley Oshig's thin hand. Someone had smeared charcoal on the boy's forehead to keep Freda's spirit from taking him with her if she got lonely.

Pike gave Molly Oshig a hug. He walked over to Chief Wabigoon to say goodbye. “I'm sorry for your loss, Bill.”

Wabigoon nodded and wiped away tears. “I'm going to miss her, Charlie. She was a good woman. Your auntie was a lot of help, getting things ready. She gave us some little birch baskets that we put inside the casket. Freda don't need much food where she's going, but you know how it is. She's wearing her moccasins.”

Pike nodded. The Anishnabe believed that spirits needed to be fed on their journey to
Gaagige Minawaanigoziwining
, the land of everlasting happiness. The tiny baskets were filled with food. The dead wore moccasins so that their footprints melded with those of their ancestors on the path. Not shoe prints, thought Pike. Footprints.

“She was proud of you, Bill. She told me so.”

Wabigoon took a deep breath and nodded gratefully. “Will you stay for the feast? Moose stew. Macaroni and corn soup, and some whitefish they pulled from the bay today. Freda would have liked
that. Pretty much everyone will be there to send her on her way. We'll be burning tobacco all week to light up her journey.”

“No, I can't, Bill, much as I'd like to,” Pike said. As soon as he said it, he realized he was genuinely sorry he couldn't stay. “I have a plane to catch in a few hours. But it was good to see you again.” He was surprised to discover he meant that too.

Bill Wabigoon smiled as if he'd read Charlie's mind. “You call me when you get back to Ottawa. I'm going to need your help with that police force we're planning. We have lots to talk about, you and me. And Sheldon too.”

“I'll do that,” said Pike. He walked over to where Sheldon Waubasking was standing. He clapped his friend on the back. “Came to say goodbye, Sheldon. I got to get going.”

“Hey, it's not goodbye, Charlie. You'll be back,” Sheldon said, grinning. “You can't stay for the feast? You know what they call a wake in Ojibway, eh? Tim Hortons.”

Pike laughed. He saw the elder packing up his belongings and remembered the pouch of tobacco in his pocket. He pulled it out and walked over to the elder. He handed him the tobacco.

“
Miigwetch
,” the elder said, and Pike realized it was the elder from the sweat lodge.

“Can I ask you something? You mentioned a blue light in the service. What did you mean?”

“The traditional people believe that on the journey to the land of souls, the spirit has two guides. There's a blue light that glows to show the way, and there's the sound of the river. You're supposed to keep the blue light in front of you and the river to your left, so you can stay on a straight path and not get tempted to go astray.”

Maybe it wasn't Luminol that Pauley saw, thought Pike. Maybe whatever it was that made the boy different let him see things that others couldn't, the same way it let him speak with birds.

“Do you really think she'll go to a better place?” he asked.

“Not all of them do,” the elder said. “Some of them decide to
stay in this world, so they can help their friends and family. You can see them sometimes in the northern lights when they're dancing.”

Pike thanked the elder. He walked over to where his auntie Alma waited. She was bundled up in her warm hat and mittens. A blanket covered her ruined legs. Outside, he pushed her wheelchair through the snow. The wheels carved parallel tracks as they made their way up the hill to the graveyard to pay their respects to his father.

Hundreds of glossy black crows followed them as Alma directed him to the spot. The birds settled silently into the pine trees above them.

Pike ran his fingers around the beaded cuff bracelet on his wrist. “Go back to your people,” the old man had told him in Ottawa. “That's where you belong. Mine are
Anaandeg
, on my mother's side. We have big families.”

Anaandeg
, Pike thought. Yes, it was a big family, crows, and getting bigger all the time. The trees were getting crowded. Maybe that was the reason the crows had started walking. Or maybe they were turning back into people.

Pike made sure his auntie was tucked comfortably under her blanket, then left her alone for a few minutes while he looked out at Manomin Bay. The steel-blue water glinted gold where patches of ice captured the light. The way the dark water gleamed, it almost looked like mercury.

His auntie was right. They had buried his father in a beautiful spot, overlooking that part of the bay where his grandfather had drowned. Pike stood for a long time, thinking about his mother and his father. He let his anger slowly release, easing the tightness in his chest he'd carried for so long. He finally returned to his auntie's wheelchair. As he pushed her down the hill to the elders' lodge, the crows flew off, one by one.