The K Handshape (10 page)

“Were any of these men at university with you?”

“No,” said Jessica.

“I’ll just jot down any others from Gallaudet that you can think of then … or you know what, maybe you could each do that for me. Do you have more paper?”

The amount of suspicion my request engendered was more fitting for the McCarthy enquiry.

“Nobody from there would have harmed Deidre,” said Jessica.

“That’s not what I’m asking. I’d simply like the names of any male friends she may have hung out with.”

Reluctantly, they went over to the table, got a piece of paper from a drawer, and sat down.

I took one of the empty chairs and waited.

Hannah handed me her paper first. She had written down five names.

“Were any of these guys from Canada?”

She didn’t wait to have that interpreted. “No, all from the States.”

Jessica had got six names. I pointed to the additional name and asked Hannah, “Do you remember him now?”

She pursed her lips then shook her head. “No, I don’t. If he was there he wasn’t our particular friend.” Jessica saw which name I was pointing to and she looked as if she was going to contradict. She made some quick signs and Hannah answered in kind. Emphatically.

“My mistake,” said Jessica and she crossed out what she had written. “He wasn’t in our year. I was acquainted with him but Deidre wouldn’t have known him.”

I had registered the name. Zachary Taylor. It might not be significant but I had seen a flash of intense anger between the two young women when Hannah had seen his name. I’d have given anything to understand what they were signing to each other.

I put the papers in my briefcase and returned to the locker. The girls came over with me.

“Do you know what’s on the DVD?” I asked.

Hannah took the novel off the shelf and showed it to Jessica.

She talked, for my benefit, I presumed. “Why on earth was Dee reading this crap? It’s so yesterday. Poor little deaf and dumb guy. How pathetic.”

Well, that dismissed an acclaimed book with one swoop but I didn’t feel like discussing its literary merits right now. I’d actually been very affected by it.

I picked up the DVD and waved it in front of her. It was unlabelled. “Any idea what’s on this?”

Jessica and Hannah were continuing to have an intense exchange, presumably still focused on
The Heart is a Lonely Hunter
. I got their attention and they both indicated they didn’t know what the DVD was.

“It’s probably for the class,” said Jessica.

We’d have to find out who was in Deidre’s class sooner or later but I plumped for later. Ed Chaffey could get a list from Mrs. Scott. However, DVDs had proven integral to many cases and I wasn’t going to take the risk of leaving this one unexamined.

“Can I have a look at it?”

Jessica pursed her lips. For a pretty girl she could manage some sour expressions.

“Are you planning to learn sign language? You can’t master it in a day, you know. We don’t want to be the latest fad.” She shrilled her voice and fluttered her hands wildly. “‘Oh look at me I’m doing sign language!’ Whoopee.”

I don’t like rude even though I was giving both of them a lot of slack considering the circumstances.

I turned and faced them, making sure Hannah could read my lips. “Your friend has been killed and I’m very sorry about that. Her father is my friend. I am here to find out who killed her. There will be other police officers here and they will ask you similar questions. We have no interest in patronizing you or demeaning Deaf Culture.”

I waited for that to sink in and to make sure they had understood what I’d said. They obviously did. Jessica flushed.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just that … some people don’t understand how long it takes to become fluent in our language.”

“Tell me about it. Everybody and their uncle has a Ph.D. in Forensic Science after watching
CSI
for one season.” I mimicked her voice elevation. “‘Oh officer, have you tried checking the teeth for DNA? You can learn a lot from that, you know.’”

That brought a small smile to her lips. She signed to Hannah, who also brought up a bit of a grin.

What I’d said was in fact true. The
CSI
franchise was the bane of our lives. Most jurors were familiar with the show and expected miracles from us, demanding, “Why is this test result taking so long to get?” or journalists, who should know better, asking the
same question a week after a crime had been discovered. Because there is a three-month backlog of other equally serious cases, and besides, we do not, contrary to popular opinion, have to solve our cases within a forty-five-minute time span. On the other hand, the shows had brought a new interest in the science itself, which was a good thing. I’m told you can get a lot of dates if you fess up to being a profiler. Male, that is, not female. The opposite is true for us women.

“We can look at it on the computer,” said Jessica, her tone conciliatory.

She cleared away some filing trays that had strayed to one of the chairs, inserted the disk, and switched it on for me. The computer screen came up an ominous black with a strip of light at the bottom. Didn’t look good.

“Oh no. It still hasn’t been fixed.”

She pressed some keys to no avail, turned it off then on again, but nothing made a difference.

“I’m sorry. We desperately need a new computer but it isn’t in the budget for this year.”

Being computer savvy wasn’t my strong suit so I couldn’t offer much help. All three of us stared at the black screen for a few moments, as if it were a sullen animal who might change its mind and come to life. Nothing doing.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take the disc with me and watch it at the office,” I said.

Jessica removed the disc while I wrote another receipt.

“Is there anything else you need to take?” she asked.

“Not right now. The other officers might decide differently.”

“I’d like her instruction book then. We can’t just drop her classes and I’d like to know where she’d got to.”

I removed the book myself and leafed through it quickly. You never know, Deidre might have written something important in the margins. People do, sometimes unconsciously. The book was pristine. There was nothing except a slip of paper with a note, “Homework, cover units 9–12 by next class.”

I handed it over to Jessica, who hugged it to her chest. Both girls started to cry again. I sat it out until finally they subsided.

“I’m so sorry. We’re going to catch the person responsible.”

I shouldn’t have said it like that. I should have couched my words in a vaguer way. We’re not encouraged to make statements that sound like promises because it’s not always possible to find killers. Some of them do get away with it, unfortunately.

CHAPTER TWELVE

I left the two girls to the cold comfort of their memories and headed out of the building. The jackhammers were back to full blast and the air outside the door was filled with dust particles. One of the workers, a young square-faced guy, sort of attractive if you like macho, glanced up at me as I walked past but lost interest as he gauged my particulars with one swift look.
On the edge of forty, doesn’t really care about being smart and sexy. Cross her off
. I was annoyed with myself that it even bothered me.

I climbed into the car and turned on the ignition, warming up the car while I made my calls. I phoned Leo first but got his voice mail.

“Leo, it’s Chris. I’m on my way over.”

I hoped he was asleep but I needed to talk to him. I checked my own phone for messages. Katherine’s voice.

“Chris. Give me a call if you’re still out or come by when you get back to the office.”

The second message was from a man and at first I didn’t realize who it was. He spoke hesitantly and quietly as if he was standing away from the receiver.

“Miss Morris. Sorry to bother you, it’s Sylvio here. I’m the man who was in the park this morning, Sylvio Torres, like the baseball coach but with an ‘s.’ I was calling because I wondered if I could have my coat and gloves back. I know you have a lot on your plate at the moment but I would appreciate it.” A little deprecating laugh.
“It’s my warmest jacket and Lily needs her usual walk tonight. I think winter has come early this year. I gave you my address but here it is again in case you lost it. 72 Mississauga Street West. I’m just around the corner from the young lady who died … have you found out any more about what happened yet? Thank you so much. Er. That’s Sylvio Torres.” He repeated his phone number and hung up.

Damn. I’d forgotten all about his jacket. I’d better get it to him before Lily lost out on more walks. I keyed in the number of the Centre and Katherine’s extension. She answered promptly.

“Katherine, it’s Chris.”

“Is Leo all right? You’ve been a long time.”

I wasn’t sure how Katherine would feel about my detour over to the OHHA. She could be a stickler for following protocol. On the other hand, she had to know what I’d found in Deidre’s locker. I filled her in and I had anticipated correctly. Her frown came right through the phone at my ear.

“We mustn’t trespass on Ed’s turf, Chris. We’ve got to wait to be invited.”

“I know but if I hadn’t gone over there Leo would have and that would probably have been a disaster. This has sped things up a bit.”

“Let’s be careful.”

I heard Janice’s voice in the background come over the intercom.

“Oops, I’ve got to go, Chris. A managers’ meeting. More goddamn shift and shuffle.”

Katherine almost never swore.

“I hope that doesn’t affect you.”

She chuckled. “They know I’d go kicking and screaming and it isn’t worth it to them. I’m here till I’m carried out quietly.”

“Good.”

I meant it. Our department was clicking along nicely now. Even though I’d only been there for two years, I felt really at home. I liked everybody, yes, even Alternative David, and I thought our respective skills and strengths balanced very well.

We hung up and I set off for Leo’s apartment.

Orillia is a pretty town in an old-fashioned, country way. Stephen Leacock didn’t call it the Sunshine Town for nothing, but
today you wouldn’t think that. The miserable weather had emptied the streets and dulled the colourful gables and storefronts. It was quieter at this time of year anyway but at the moment, the streets were virtually empty, only a few diehards, clutching umbrellas, scurrying along the rain-slicked sidewalks. Sometimes I think I suffer from seasonal affective disorder, or in layman’s language, “winter blues.” Grey chill wet Novembers days make me want to pull the covers over my head and not stir until spring. This was, although I hadn’t really admitted it to Gill, one reason why I wasn’t keen on relocating to the Hebrides. Only seven hours of daylight for five months a year did not appeal to me. I wrenched my thoughts away from that particular dismal path.

Leo lived at the end of Elgin Street, near the lake in a brand new condominium building. The land surrounding it was barren, landscaping not yet completed, but the building was elegant and inviting. A discreet sign out front said “The Elgin Bay.”

As I turned into the parking lot, I heard the familiar rumble of a skateboard. There was a skate park adjoining the building, and unbelievably, a dedicated young lad was ignoring the rain and was out practising his flips and twists. I watched him for a moment as he caught air, twisted, and landed solidly again on the board. He was good. I hoped he made it to the Olympics.

I parked the car and called Leo’s number again. This time he answered.

“Hi, it’s Chris, I’m outside.”

His greeting had sounded grim but his voice livened. “Come right up. Entrance code is 235. I’m on the fourth floor, first door on the right.”

I walked into a foyer that was so spacious and airy I felt like moving into
it
, never mind one of the condos. The décor was a novel blend of North American Indian and Regency, taking the warm earth tones from one and the elegance of line from the other. I particularly liked the light fixtures of leaded glass. Everything said good taste but not in a pretentious way.

Leo was waiting outside his door. Rather to my surprise, he pulled me into his arms and gave me a hard and painfully awkward hug.

“Thanks, Chris. You’ve been a brick.”

One of the doors in the hall opened and an elderly woman,
dressed for the outdoors, stepped out. She beamed at him, rather coyly, I thought.

“Good afternoon, Dr. Forgach. No work today? Lucky for you.”

He let go of me at once. “Quite so, Mrs. Pagel.”

Grabbing my arm, he hustled me past her and into his own apartment.

“Let me take your coat … I’ve just made some fresh coffee, can I get you some?”

“Thanks, Leo. That would be great. Just black, please.”

He stowed my coat in the hall closet.

“I mustn’t forget to give that fellow his jacket back. Do you think it would be appropriate if I bought him a bottle of wine?”

“He’d probably appreciate that.”

Leo disappeared into the galley kitchen. The apartment was spacious, the furnishings very contemporary, very masculine, in shiny chromes and dark brown leather. I walked over to the windows, which were floor to ceiling. He had a stunning view of the lake and even on this dreary day it was impressive. No civilizing boats or swimmers or Sea-Doos, just an expanse of slate grey water whipped into white caps by the wind which was soughing at the windows.

He came back into the living room carrying a tray with two mugs and a plate of cookies. He placed the tray on a white wooden cube of a coffee table.

“I hope the cookies aren’t stale. I don’t eat them really and I haven’t had visitors since I don’t know when.”

I sipped the coffee; the best that could be said of it was that it was scalding hot. The cookie was so bad I almost spat it out. I put the remainder on the plate.

“So did you get to meet with her friends at the OHHA?” he asked.

“Yes, I did.” I picked up my briefcase. “I got the letters and emails that were sent to Deidre after the news broke in the media about Joy. She’d kept them in her locker. Are you up to taking a look?”