Scare the Light Away (21 page)

“Do you know how Jennifer came to be in possession of this necklace?” I asked.

“Yes, I do. Jennifer was a great girl. And I mean that. She wanted to be a carpenter, she loved to work with wood, really loved it. Her hands were born to it. Her brothers help me out for the money, but they have no heart for the work. Jennifer does… did. Her father was staunchly against it. I can’t stand the man, a supercilious asshole of the first degree. You didn’t know I can say words like supercilious, did you, Becky?”

“I’ve never underestimated you, Jimmy.”

“Perhaps you should have. Anyway, Mr. Taylor didn’t approve of her working for me, but he permitted it as long as there was money to be made. There aren’t a lot of jobs for a school kid around here that last any longer than July and August. But he wouldn’t hear of her taking up carpentry as a career. Jennifer told me many times that he thinks it not a suitable occupation for a woman. Fellow is living in the nineteenth century.”

“Sounds like the Dennis Taylor I went to school with, all right.”

“Anyway she was a great assistant. Far better than those lazy brothers of hers. I would have sacked the both of them in a flash, if anyone any better came to hand. She showed up on time, early more often than not, and worked like her heart and soul were in it. Course she is… was… still going to school, so she only helped out on holidays and on the weekends when I was busy.” His voice changed, and he turned his head to stare into the fire. “Dead. Do you know, I haven’t really even thought of her that way. I knew she hadn’t run away. As tough as her old man is on her, she isn’t the type to up and run. When Reynolds told me they’d found the body, it didn’t come as much of a surprise. But dead. She was so young, she had real promise.” He got up to toss more pieces of kindling onto the fire. The flames reared up hungrily. We all watched the wood be consumed. Muddy Waters sang about love.

“But…”

“No flies on you, are there baby sister? But she was interested in more than just the carpentry. Christ. Only because I’m probably the only man she’d ever met who told her to follow her heart and her talent. She and her brothers worked for me last summer. Remember, babe, we had that big job on that place with the gazebo and the guest house?”

Aileen nodded.

“We were finishing it up, putting the last touches on the gazebo. You should see it; it’s absolutely fantastic. The lady of the house saw one in a garden in England and had to have one just like it. One day, the last week of work, Ryan is off sick and Kyle has a dentist appointment. Me and Jennifer are having a perfectly great day. It was real hot, sweltering, so when we took our lunch break I stripped off my shirt and dove into the lake. And Jennifer did the same. I tried not to notice, really I did, babe. But she swam up to me and started rubbing herself against me and saying things I didn’t want to hear.”

Aileen blew her nose.

“I told her that lunch was over and it was time to get dressed and back to work. She was embarrassed, but she put her shirt and bra back on, and we finished the gazebo. Her brothers were back the next day; we moved on to the guest house and I thought it all ended then.”

“But it didn’t?”

“I got a few odd jobs in the fall, and the twins and Jennifer helped out on weekends. She didn’t say anything about what happened and everything between us settled back to normal. Over the winter I do work indoors, making furniture and the like. No need for help, so I hardly saw the kids. Last month I started back to work up at Lake Ramsey, and I called them. Their dad had been sick over the winter, so Ryan was working at Fawcett’s Hardware. But Kyle and Jennifer were available.”

He stopped talking and poured out another round of drinks. Good thing I only had a few hundred yards to drive home. The brandy was excellent. Ray loved good brandy and he taught me to appreciate it as well. It was one of his few extravagances. Would my husband and my brother have gotten along? Would they have found something in common?

“First day of work, Kyle hit his thumb with a hammer. I don’t like the kid, take your eye off him for a second and he’s slacking off, but I had to admit that his thumb was a real mess. His mom came to collect him. They were scarcely out of sight before Jennifer turned it all on. Told me that she missed me all winter and she was so glad to be working close to me again. I told her that I’m a married man and I don’t believe in fooling around on the job. If she wanted to learn to be a carpenter she would have to act a pro and not mess up the best chance she was going to get. She said she understood.”

“But she didn’t?” Aileen croaked. She had shrunk so far into herself that she was in danger of disappearing altogether if something didn’t pull her out of it. I didn’t know what could.

“I wear that necklace every day. I want to be buried in it, you know that Aileen. Don’t you?”

She didn’t respond.

“But I have to take it off at a work site. No jewelry on the job. That’s asking for trouble. So every day, soon as we arrive, I put my wedding ring and the necklace into my lunch box. That day Jennifer’s mom came for her early. They didn’t approve of their precious daughter alone with the likes of me all day. Christ if only they knew.”

“Parents worry,” said I who had no experience whatsoever. My mother worried. But never of anything that lay outside of our own family.

“Yeah. With cause, eh? I don’t like them, the Taylors, they’re both a piece of work. They both remind me of Grandpa. All piss and wind and not an ounce of human kindness in their shriveled up bodies.”

I swallowed and focused on the flames dancing in the grate. “I always thought you got on great with Grandpa.”

He looked at me with those lovely eyes the color of the lake on a summer’s morning. At the present storm clouds were moving in. “I never believed in Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny, you know. Grandpa told me straight out that stuff was for girls and babies. And he told me that I wasn’t a baby and I was certainly not a girl. But I was a kid, little sister. I needed to believe in something.”

“I don’t give a goddamn right now about Santa Claus,” Aileen whispered, her voice struggling to regain its normal pitch. “Tell us what happened. Please.”

“The necklace was gone from my lunch box when I finished up for the day and got ready to go home. My ring was there, in the pouch where I always left it. But the necklace was gone.

“I didn’t ask her the next day, I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t accuse her of being a thief. Particularly as Kyle was back. I didn’t want to say anything in front of her brother. I should have said something, Aileen, I should have told you I’d lost it. But I suppose I hoped that she would have a change of heart and give it back to me and we would laugh about it. Because I still like her. She is…” His voice broke on a choked sob. “…was a nice girl, and she would have made a great carpenter.”

Aileen reached down from her rocking chair and held him close.

I looked at my empty glass, the firelight shining through it, catching the few remaining drops of brandy in a shimmer of spun gold.

“You need a lawyer, Jimmy. Do you have one?”

“There’s Kowalski, who I’ve used before. Don’t know if he’s still in North Bay, though. Last I heard he was up on some charges. Might even be disbarred.”

Lovely. “My company has a whole stable of lawyers in Toronto. First thing tomorrow morning, I’ll call someone.”

“I can’t afford…”

“It’s on me. Let’s say it’s thirty years of Christmas and birthday presents all rolled into one.”

A touch of color crept back into Aileen’s face. “That’s not fair. Then we’ll owe you thirty years’ worth.”

“A tapestry similar to that one.” I pointed to a huge delight, a northern forest scene, each stitch picked out in shades of gold and crimson with a touch of icy blue. “It would look wonderful in my cottage in B.C. And a promise that you’ll both deliver it, of course. I can’t be bothered to wrap it up myself.”

“Done,” Jimmy said.

“Agreed,” Aileen said.

I wouldn’t know a criminal lawyer if one leapt out of the woodwork and waved his checkbook at me. But my company keeps plenty of corporate lawyers on hand. They would be in contact with colleagues who did criminal work. Wouldn’t they?

“They’ve taken the truck,” Jimmy said. “I gave them the keys so they could check it out.”

“Check it out?” Aileen said. “What for?”

“Just routine,” my brother said. “I told them that Jennifer’s been in the truck plenty of times; a few days before she disappeared she used it to pick up a load of lumber. They’ll return it in a couple of days. And as this is now officially a murder investigation, a homicide inspector will be arriving from the big city tomorrow. I’m sure I’ll be hearing from him.”

“Let him know that you won’t speak to him without your lawyer present,” I said. “Tell them he has to travel up from Toronto, so it may be a while.”

Jimmy and Aileen nodded. From different sides of the fence, they both had plenty of experience with the criminal justice system.

I drained my glass, resisted the urge to throw it into the fireplace, and staggered out to my car. The night air had a definite chill. A full moon hung low over the lake, a perfect white ball against the black sky. It shone so brightly that only the brightest stars could be seen.

Aileen hugged me closely, her fragile bones quivering under her shawl. Jimmy slipped his arm around her waist, and they waved in unison as I pulled away.

I stood at the back door waiting for Sampson to sniff out the residue of every creature that had ventured onto our property in the hours since she’d last made her rounds. Finally satisfied, she settled down to do her business.

No point in trying to phone anyone at this time of night. I set the alarm to wake me at first light, so I could get on to the business of finding a lawyer.

Chapter 36

The Diary of Janet McKenzie. March 2, 1958

Of all the things. The Reverend and Mrs. Burwell drove over today and she got out of the car grinning from ear to ear and acting like she had some great secret. And then Mr. Burwell pulled her sewing machine out of the boot and she said it was for me.

I could have fainted dead away. I insisted that I couldn’t accept it. And they insisted that I must. So eventually I relented and Mr. Burwell carried it through to my sewing room—which is unfortunately now the kitchen table, since Rebecca grew out of her cot and moved into the children’s room and Jim needed to have a room of his own. But someday I’ll have a real sewing room again.

The men were at work. Mrs. M. was napping; Shirley and Jim were at school, and Rebecca (for once) was playing quietly with her doll. Mr. Burwell admired the almost finished quilt spread out on the table and then they both stood there, looking at me. I offered tea, and they accepted. I cleared the sewing, brought out the best pot and cups (meaning the ones not chipped) and some biscuits I baked the day before. Mr. Burwell asked me if I was managing. I told him that we are doing fine, thank you. What else could I say? Could I tell him that my father-in-law is a monster and that I fear that he’s trying to turn my ten-year-old son into the image of him? That my husband goes on drinking binges and at the best of times is as weak as water and lets his father yell profanities and insults at his wife and grandchildren and daughter-in-law all the day long, and that he sometimes even takes blows from that father? That I fear that, stuck in this town, in this family, my thirteen-year-old daughter (already failing school) will decide there is nothing more to life than making me a grandmother before she finishes high school?

I said we’re fine, thank you very much. Now that Bob has that job at the new butcher in North Ridge.

He said, “Good, good” and concentrated on selecting another biscuit. She was about to say something. I could see it in her face. But right then Rebecca pulled out the kitchen drawer and all the knives and forks clattered to the cracked old linoleum floor.

Chapter 37

I dug through the company directory on my computer, searching for a lawyer with whom I’d done business recently. Found him! I dialed the Toronto number. A flat, emotionless voice asked me to leave a message and I did so: my name, my position, my reason for calling, the number of my cell phone as well as the house.

I then went in search of breakfast. Once again, yogurt and granola didn’t quite seem to be up to the task. A package of fat sausages smiled up at me seductively. Giving in without any trace of a fight, I pulled out the frying pan and threw them in. Eggs soon followed.

I carried my plate into the living room and hooked up my computer to read the morning papers, although my mind was hardly on it. Government budget crisis, war in some dry forgotten country, bombings in the Middle East. It never changes. Murder in small-town Ontario. Jennifer made the Toronto papers. It will be a sad day when murder is so commonplace in this part of the world as not to be reported. I soaked up the last of runny egg yolk with a slice of sausage and held it up to my mouth. If Ray could see me eating like this, he would have a fit. Probably snatch the plate right out of my hand. God, I miss him. Even in this situation, Ray would know exactly what to do. He would have Jimmy’s name cleared, his necklace returned, and the murderer behind bars before dinnertime. I tossed the egg-coated sausage to the dog and buried my head in my hands. Sampson nuzzled me lovingly, after scarfing down the treat.

Then her attention shifted and she barked once and ran to the door. A car pulled up outside.

Perfect. Visitors.

Shirley and Jackie, both of them dressed for work. My sister marched through the door without a word. Jackie mumbled “Hello” with an embarrassed grin.

“I’m not even out of bed before the phone is ringing off the hook. It seems that the police arrested our dear brother last night for killing Jennifer Taylor. When were you planning on informing me, and where is Dad?”

Another reminder, not that I needed one, of why I hated this town. “I wasn’t planning on informing you at all, Shirley, considering that Jimmy wasn’t arrested for anything and certainly not for murder. And I suppose that Dad is still sleeping, unless you’ve woken him up, which is entirely possible.”

“I’m awake, girls.” Dad walked into the living room, still in his pajamas. They were old and worn to tatters, exactly like him. His steps were slow and heavy. “Is someone going to tell me what’s going on here?”

“Mom phoned me all in an uproar,” Jackie explained. “So I decided that she shouldn’t be driving. Dave hadn’t left for work yet, so I left him to take Jason to school and went over.”

“Why don’t I put on a fresh pot of coffee?” I offered, as if I were accustomed to entertaining visitors at this time of the morning.

“That would be lovely,” Jackie said, brimming with false enthusiasm.

“Who’s been arrested?” Dad asked.

“Your son,” Shirley said.

“No one,” I said.

“Little Jim?” Dad’s face collapsed and for a moment I thought his body might follow, but Jackie took his arm and steered him to the kitchen. “Coffee first,” she said.

“Jimmy was not arrested,” I repeated, following them. “The police asked him some questions yesterday. That’s not so unusual. She worked for him; they came into contact regularly, so the cops had some questions. That’s all.”

“Well, I hear that they found evidence, real evidence, that he killed her, right on her body.”

“Please, Mom,” Jackie hissed, settling her grandfather into a kitchen chair.

“You hear rumor and innuendo, Shirley,” I said. “Don’t blow it all out of proportion, please.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised, not at all surprised.”

“Mom!” Jackie gasped in horror. Fortunately Dad didn’t appear to hear. I put the coffee on, for something to do, not because I wanted to encourage our visitors to stay.

“What happened, Aunt Rebecca?” Jackie asked. “They’re saying that you found the body?”

“That, at least, is true. Or rather Sampson found it.” In the living room my cell phone shrilled. I dove for it.

“Ms. McKenzie, this is Brian Blanchard. Your message said that you’re looking for a criminal lawyer?”

“Thank you for returning my call, Mr. Blanchard.” I took the phone into my bedroom and firmly shut the door. “I know you specialize in corporate law, but I’m hoping you could recommend a good criminal lawyer for a friend of mine. It’s a murder case. No charges have been laid as of yet, but we’re expecting that they may be.”

“Good idea to be ready. My wife has been friends since law school with Laura Rabinovich. Laura came over for dinner a while ago. She’s top in the field these days. Here’s the number. Mention my wife’s name, it’s Darlene Smith.”

We chatted for a few minutes about mutual acquaintances and work he did for my company, while I chafed at the bit to get the conversation over and done with.

“Thanks for the name, Brian. I owe you one. Next time I’m in the Big Smoke I’ll take you out for lunch.”

“Something to look forward to,” he said. “Good luck with your friend.”

I broke the connection and dialed Laura Rabinovich’s office. Her secretary told me that she was scheduled to be in court all morning. Once again, I left my numbers and my reason for calling. As well as Brian and Darlene’s names. I tucked the phone into the pocket of my sweat pants and reluctantly dragged myself back to the kitchen and our cozy family gathering.

“Well,” Shirley said, “I hope that was an important call. We’re only discussing your brother’s life here.”

I picked up the conversation as if there had been no interruption. “Shirley, you’re spreading idle gossip and speculation like manure.”

“Now, girls,” Dad said. “Don’t argue.” Like we were kids again and Shirley was mad at me because I used her makeup to get my dolls ready for a big party they were having. (I’d thought that the dolls looked better in Shirley’s makeup than she did.)

Jackie stood at the stove, frying sausages and eggs for Dad’s breakfast.

I sat down. “The police took Jimmy in to ask him some questions last night. He worked with her a lot, some of their stuff got mixed up, and they wanted to sort it all out. That’s it.”

“Are you sure?” Shirley asked, her voice actually sounding a touch hopeful.

“I went to the police station with Aileen. I’m sure.”

“Aileen,” Jackie said. “Poor Aileen, she must be so upset. Do you think I should go and see how she’s doing, Aunt Rebecca?”

“I’ll come with you,” Shirley said.

That idea needed to be nipped in the bud. “They had a late night, she’s probably still in bed. Shouldn’t you be at work?”

Shirley looked at her watch. “Family emergency, they’ll understand.” But she drained her cup and stood up. “Jackie?”

“Ready, Mom. Are you okay, grandpa?”

Dad smiled at her. “Of course I am. You run along now and get your mother to work. Your grandma will finish cooking the breakfast. She’s probably down at the road fetching the newspaper. She’ll be back in a minute.”

My sister and I looked at each other, all animosity forgotten.

“I’ll look after the breakfast,” I said.

“If you need me to stay…” Shirley said.

Dad waved his hand. “Get yourself off to work, girl. They won’t pay you for being late. Now where is that paper? Didn’t Janet bring it up?”

“Let’s go, Mom. I’m late for work, too.” Jackie shooed her mother out of the kitchen. I followed.

“That’s only the second time he’s said that Mom is around. The rest of the time he seems to know she’s gone.”

“It’s to be expected, I suppose,” Shirley said. “For fifty years every time he turned around she was standing right behind him. Hard to get used to the fact that she’s not there, I suppose.”

“And never will be again,” Jackie said.

Shirley and I looked at each other. She held out her arms stiffly as if they weren’t quite a part of her body. I stepped forward to return the embrace. Deep in my pants’ pocket my cell phone rang. I grabbed for it.

Shirley sniffed. “Time to go, Jackie.”

The phone caught in the baggy fabric of my pants. I disentangled it, fumbled for the right button, shouted “Hello” into the phone and looked up to catch Shirley’s eye. Too late. She was marching down the path, her shoulders set, her gait stiff with offended pride.

“Ms. McKenzie? Are you there?” The phone shouted, distant and tinny.

“Sorry. I’m here.”

“This is Laura Rabinovich returning your call.”

“Sorry, Ms. Rabinovich. I dropped the phone.”

The voice was deep and authoritative. It chuckled. “Occupational hazard, I’ve found. But no danger, unless you drop the dratted thing onto your foot. I’m back from court early. I understand you have a potential murder case on your hands?”

“That’s right. I’m in Hope River, that’s near North Ridge, and I’m worried that a friend of mine is about to be charged, and he needs a good lawyer. Is that you?”

“I’m afraid not, Ms. McKenzie. My calendar is booked solid.”

“Oh.” I sighed my disappointment into the receiver.

“But I do have a contact for you. Man by the name of Alex Singh. He was a top-flight criminal lawyer in Toronto until about two years ago, when he decided to move to North Bay. Supposedly for the fishing, can you imagine?”

The phone vibrated with the shudder of well-draped shoulders considering the very idea.

“Don’t get me wrong, Alex is still practicing. He merely relocated. You might want someone closer anyway. Let me give you the number.”

More thanks, sincerely felt, and another offer of a future lunch.

Dad stood in the kitchen door, watching me, his forehead furrowed in an attempt to follow the drift of the conversation. I excused myself and went to my room.

Alex Singh was actually in when I called, and his secretary put me through. An expensive leather chair squeaked as he listened to the details. Singh didn’t have many questions, but he promised to contact Jimmy straight away.

“It is my understanding that if I take the case, you will be settling the account, Ms. McKenzie. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“Your brother will be my client. You understand that my responsibility is therefore to him rather than to yourself?”

“Perfectly. I plan to be going home to Vancouver on Saturday. Send me the bills.”

Lawyer found, my job done, I resisted the temptation to hustle up the hill to hear Jimmy’s end of the conversation.

“Any plans for today, Dad?” I asked, returning to the kitchen.

“Thought I’d spend some time in the shed.” He glanced outside. The landscape was gray, nothing but gray. Land, forest, and sky, all as gray as a battleship on the North Atlantic in mid-winter. “Get caught up on a bit of work. Some rocking horses to finish. Kids love those rocking horses.”

“Good idea.”

“Not a day to go into town. Too wet.”

“Right.”

“The boys at the Legion will be full of gossip today. Worse than a pack of old women at a church picnic, that lot are.”

“Right.”

The kitchen phone rang. A double ring, thank goodness, meaning long distance. No one local had called us yet, bursting to catch up on the news of yesterday’s events. That was a good sign. Some people still had some respect for my father’s dignity. I imagined the phone lines of Hope River and environs bursting into flames through overuse.

“Rebecca, is that you? At last. I have been calling and calling and you don’t call back. Is everything all right over there?”

Jenny. How wonderful. A link to my real world.

“I’m sorry for not calling back. My dad did give me your messages. I’m fine, but things aren’t good with my family right now, so I’m a bit distracted.”

“Oh,” she cooed, “your poor father. When my grandpa died, my grandma wanted to die right along with him. But next month she took a cruise around the Caribbean and do you know, she met a man. And they were married a month after that.”

I laughed. “I’ll suggest that to my dad. What have you got for me, Jenny?”

Dad poured the last of the coffee into a thermos and set off out the back door, heading for his shed. Sampson went with him.

Jenny talked and I made notes. Nothing momentous, nothing requiring my immediate attention. She was merely keeping me up to date.

“Andrew wants a meeting when he gets back on Friday,” she said. “Can he conference-call you?”

I asked the time and marked it onto my computer’s calendar. “I’ll get that on my cell phone. My family is in and out of the house all day; you never know when someone is on the phone. I’ll have it on all the time, and if by chance the battery’s run out you can call the house next.

“I’ll be back on Monday, Jen. Hold the fort until then, can you?”

“It’ll be hard, but I’ll try.”

“Thanks.”

I attached the computer to the phone line one more time.

An old pickup truck drove up the laneway, moving much too fast, tossing mud from beneath its well-traveled wheels. It could only be heading for Jimmy and Aileen’s place and, now that the Hope River grapevine was in control of the story, it was unlikely anyone was making a social call.

I ran out the door, not even bothering to disconnect the computer. Rain continued to fall, leaving the morning air fresh and clean, the moisture as light on my face as any expensive moisturizer. There was no need for a coat, but as I ran, I realized that I should have stopped long enough to put boots on in place of my slippers.

When I saw the small group gathered on Jimmy’s deck, I realized that I also should have brought Sampson. It was Dennis Taylor, Jennifer’s dad. His twin sons stood on either side of him. They all bristled with hostility—fists clenched, feet apart, chests thrust forward.

Jimmy stood in the front door, waving his hands and talking. Aileen’s face peered over his shoulder, white and pinched tight with fear.

Jimmy continued to talk as I ran up. His pose was relaxed, comfortable, but he balanced on the balls of his feet, ready for anything. “I can assure you, Mr. Taylor, Ryan, Kyle, I had nothing to do with Jennifer’s murder. I am as upset as anyone in this town about what happened to her, she was a wonderful girl.”

“You liar, the cops know it’s you what did it, why else would they have arrested you?”