Murder At Lake Ontario Page 13

  “Good lunch.” His tone dispassionate.

  “We should fly. I’ll just pop into the ladies’ room.” Eckhart examined her manicured nails and flipped him a droll smirk. Gibson rose promptly and drew out her chair. He headed for the cashier and settled the bill, ready to get moving. She returned, swinging her handbag as she walked through the din, making heads turn at her beauty. They rode the crowded elevator down in silence, their hands converging briefly. He pressed into the wall. The pavement was hot enough to fry just about anything. His skin glistened with the insufferable temperature, every piece of his clothing getting damp instantly. Eckhart seemed unaffected. A spray from the falls cooled him as he hustled to the truck.

  “What next?” She fired up the engine and set the air conditioning to full blast.

  “Well.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s early, but—”

  “Are you leaving tomorrow?”

  “No. Red-eye Sunday.”

  “Oh.”

  “We should have a final run to Lawsons Lane in the morning,” Gibson said. Was the answer there? He had a suspicion it was somehow. He had had that feeling all along. If he could only find it. “Last chance for me to look around.”

  “Okay. I guess it can’t hurt,” Eckhart replied. She felt they had exhausted all leads, and her case was sunk.

  The ride to town was brisk, the growl of the engine pumping out five hundred horsepower with efficiency. Gibson viewed the scenery passing by, not altering much. A long black road rolled out in front, waves of roasted air distorting the perspective. The Expedition didn’t falter when they reached the gradient of the high-level bridge—the Garden City Skyway. Six lanes of traffic zoomed over the canal. Gibson glanced in both directions. The waterway stretched for miles. He settled into the leather seat and thought of his family.

  * * *

  The concrete and wood building accented with a stone facade stood ominously in the offensively bright and cheery sunlight. Jackie and Savannah linked arms as they mounted the steps toward a massive oak door. The wrought iron handle and strapping were as dark as their mood. Savannah leaned into her friend, body quivering and her legs willing to buckle. They crept down the aisle slowly. The aroma of church myrrh incensed the air, wafting over and through the throng of people sitting in metal folding chairs, all lined up in tight formation. Most of them looked uncomfortable, but was it the hard chairs or the fact that Elsie had been murdered that made their waxy faces dour? Their black attire and stilted whispers filled the capacious room.

  A mahogany coffin, front and centre, loomed as a dark mass below a wooden crucifix nailed to the wall. Dramatic tributes of gladioli, lilies, chrysanthemums and carnations fought for territory at the front. The abundance of flowers should have been a comfort to Todd, knowing that his wife was well-loved, but he didn’t notice anything except the narrow box cloaked in dusty pink roses. He sat in the front row, his gaze flitting from the coffin to the scarred floors and back. His shallow breathing rasped at each intake and stuttered at each exhale. Jackie ushered her friend forward, to the section reserved for family and close acquaintances. When they got there, Savannah looked briefly at the still figure in the mahogany box and wilted into the chair next to her brother-in-law.

  “Are you okay?” Jackie asked. She struggled not to cough into the quietude of the cathedral as her voice stuck somewhere halfway down her throat.

  Savannah answered with a slight nod and a sharp snort of breath. Jackie sat restlessly beside her friend, adjusting the pleats of her skirt and pressing on her thighs with damp palms. Gregory came into the church on his own and sat behind them.

  The preacher delivered a Dylan Thomas poem. Motionlessness embraced Elsie’s friends. A shaft of sunlight bore through the stained glass from the arched windows above, attempting to dispel the grief. Burning candles set upon gold-threaded silk cloth on the altar flickered in response. But it was darkness that held the mourners. The preacher’s remarks shifted into a lullaby finally allowing the throng to relax. The sorrow scattered, leaving behind only affection for the departed. Jackie seized her companion’s hand, shedding her warmth onto the frigid fingers. Jackie closed her eyes and envisioned her existence. Sadness washed over her like frothy waves on a storm-battered coast. A sultry breeze fluttered in through the open door, abating the hotness on her face, offering a fragrance of promise. An angelic hymn floated from the wooden beams to conclude the service. Todd shed no tears. He rose and approached the coffin, stroking the smooth wood as if he sensed Elsie’s skin beneath his caress. Savannah wept, the lines on her cheeks testimony to her loss. The whoosh of clothing rarely worn and the shuffling of stiff shoes aroused Jackie from her reverie as people got up from their chairs.

  The chatter began. The jangle of wine filled glasses and crystal whiskey tumblers announced the real ceremony. The line-up at the bar snaked around the corner and down the hallway. Men loosened ties that smothered their moist necks, and women pulled at cotton fabric adhering to their sticky legs. Children ran outside and played.

  Jackie remained next to Savannah while a chain of condolences bombarded her friend’s already faltering resolve. Gregory stood close by, to be there for her but not to impede. The loud exhalation of breath and an occasional moan from Todd was noticed by most. A cursory glance toward Todd confirmed his despair was increasing. A vibration in Jackie’s handbag caught her attention. The pulsations throbbed in her palm as she retrieved her cell. She glanced at the text from her mother. ‘Dad is home’. Things were moving in a desirable direction. Reggie came over and stood beside Gregory—more support. Not a bead of perspiration spoiled his smooth and dry skin. His suit had a sheen of expensive, a red pinstripe subtly cutting through the black. Jackie smiled and strode outside. She had the airline website in her favourites and booked a flight for that night. Then she called her mom who answered after several rings.

  “Sorry, dear. Just getting dad settled.” Her tone sounded lighter, freer.

  “Dad will be okay now, right?” Jackie asked.

  “Yes. The procedure worked. He’ll be fine,” she answered.

  “Mom. That’s a relief.”

  “Yes, it is. How was the funeral? I didn’t want to miss it, but I...”

  “It was good,” Jackie said. “But I’m flying home tonight. I have my own family to take care of. After what Savannah and Todd are going through, I feel like I shouldn’t waste a moment. I love you guys.”

  “I know you do. We love you too,” her mom replied.

  “I’m on my way now. I’ll be there shortly.”

  “Okay, dear.”

  Jackie pushed the hang-up button with purpose before she glanced up.

  “You’re leaving?”

  “Yes.”

  “Take care.” Reggie locked onto her emerald eyes and sighed. The one that got away.

  Jackie skipped into the hubbub and dragged Savannah into a corner.

  “I’m going home now.”

  “To Victoria?”

  “Yes.”

  The friends hugged, hanging on for several minutes. Jackie climbed into the Lincoln and with a squeal of tires left the parking lot to her parents’ house. She rushed inside to see her dad nestled in his favourite spot, a glass clutched in his hand. Jackie froze. Dad chuckled.

  “It’s tomato juice, honey,” he said.

  “You bum.” Her laughter was a gurgling stream.

  “How are you getting to the airport?” her mom shouted down the stairs.

  “Shuttle bus.”

  Soon after, Jackie was leaning back in her seat, headed to the airport. She texted David.

  “On my way home. Love you.”

  Two seconds later, her cell vibrated.

  “Same.”

  * * *

  Gibson remained on the balcony watching the last rays of the day slip below the skyline and the shadows steal the night. Dusk brought a refreshing coolness. He looked at the screen on his cell for the hundredth time. No reply. All his calls home had gone to voicemail.
>
  Gibson dropped onto the bed, sinking into its promise of slumber. He was overwrought by the weight of his behaviour. Memories flooded his psyche as his heart thumped with a yearning. He brushed his fingers along the edges of the duvet. The pillow captured his throbbing head. He lay unmoving and caved in to the invitation. After only a couple of fitful hours, he was awakened by a horn honking in the distance and the slamming of a door. The time trickled by, his mind a whirlwind of relentless images until he tumbled back to his nightmare.

  Chapter 18

  He’s racing for the bus and topples; a wisp of black smoke smothers his face. Someone is shaking him.

  The shuddering of his cell still clasped in his fist awakened him. Startled, Gibson sat up promptly, slinging out his arm. The phone eluded his grasp and thudded along the floor in a spiral. He heard a bang as it deflected off some object, maybe the desk. Gibson vaulted off the bed, presuming it had come to rest somewhere between the bathroom and an armchair. His foot caught the edge and kicked it across the suite toward the glass door. He just about knocked the lamp off the bedside table fumbling with the switch. Finally, he snatched it and answered, “Gibson,” uncertain who was on the other end; not confident it was even functioning after its gymnastic workout.

  “Honey. Is that you?”

  Light surged into the room.

  “Katherine. Where have you been?”

  “Oh, silly. Didn’t you get my text?”

  Gibson gawked at the symbol on the shattered screen indicating incoming text. “I guess I must have fallen asleep. Miss you.”

  “I miss you, too,” Katherine replied. “I have some bad news.”

  Gibson sucked in his breath.

  “And a marvelous announcement.”

  “Okay.” His heart stopped and restarted.

  “The awful news is that I had my fingerprints taken.”

  “What?” It skittered another beat.

  “For my new position,” Katherine squealed, oblivious to her husband’s heartbeat. “At a bank. Actually, several branches. As a relief assistant manager—”

  “That’s the bad story?”

  “Don’t fret, my prints won’t be run. They’re put on file for reference. Not that it matters. I haven’t killed anyone lately.” She giggled.

  Gibson thought life was so bizarre.

  “Do you require the good news?”

  “Yes.” Gibson detected a note of enormity in her tone. The twitter of her zebra finches played in the background.

  “We’re going to have a baby,” Katherine said. After a protracted hesitation, she asked, “Are you still there?”

  “Oh, my god,” Gibson answered. Blinking lashes heavy with dampness unleashed. Tears rolled from his smoky eyes, down his cheeks and stuck onto his trembling chin. A sobbing escaped from his throat and reached down the line to his wife. He fingered the screen. “I love you Katherine. I can hardly wait to see you.”

  “Me, too. Tomorrow then,” Katherine said and hung up.

  Gibson’s heart crashed into a rib. He held the phone to his chest. There’s no place like home. He stepped into the shower and spun the dial to its hottest. He pressed his forehead against the frigid tiles, letting the steamy rivulets trickle down his back. The water ran chilly as he stood in a daze. He let the spray pummel his muscles as his mind whirled and clicked. Craving to get the day done, he dressed hurriedly and left the motel. He skipped down the sidewalk. A sparrow soared by his nose and docked on the same hanging basket as the days before. The peeping of chicks caught his awareness. He watched three tiny mouths stretch high to capture food from mom’s beak. Or maybe it was dad? He produced a two-step on the pavement and floated to the café, his loose-fitting shirt already clinging to his back from the heat. Gibson glanced at his watch. It was just seven. The sun would hammer down with unforgiving devilry today. The Expedition came to a halt across the street. He hopped in and sent Eckhart a quirky smile. All was perfect in his world.

  She gave him a sidelong glare, her pale lips dipped into a sulky pout. “Lawsons Lane here we come. You never know.” She was totally annoyed with the investigation going in circles.

  “Work the case until nothing is left behind,” he replied.

  Gibson leaned back to relish the final ride to the crime scene. He looked out the window as they whizzed by sports fields, two high schools, blocks of houses and apartments. The tires crossed silently over a railway track. As they neared the canal, a sequence of siren blasts sounded.

  “Oh, shit,” Eckhart said. She slowed and halted in front of the striped barriers that had dropped down to block access to the bridge. Red lights blinked across the hood in a hypnotic cadence. “About an hour,” she acknowledged the unasked question.

  “I see.” A blue labyrinth of metal rose skyward, the counterweight bearing down on them.

  “Don’t worry, it won’t strike us,” she said.

  The gears wound slowly until the deck stood vertically in the air. A siren blared. The lock swung open wide. The ship passed by, rust stains running down the empty hull standing tall in the water. Gibson wanted to reach out and touch the foreign entity. Another outburst of the signal and the gates locked behind the stern. The bridge made its plunge earthbound, hitting the ground with a thunk that jolted the truck. Whoa.

  “Haven’t witnessed that in a while,” Gibson said.

  Eckhart drove faster than usual to make up for the squandered time. As she shifted into the lane, a Range Rover sped toward the beach ahead of them, dust drifting in vast arcs around the vehicle. Gibson squinted after it. Was that Reggie? Eckhart pulled into Jacobs Landing with a crunching of tires and flung the gears into park. “Okay. Made it.”

  Gibson frowned at the increasing amount of graffiti on the store walls. Across the weathered boards of the porch, someone had callously painted, ‘Fattie.’ The red lettering stood out on the dark wood. He was perturbed not only at the damage but by the poor taste of words. He stepped out of the vehicle and relished the gentle breeze from the lake. Although it beat the temperature back a few degrees, it wasn’t enough to check the sweat rolling down his neck and soaking his collar. They walked along the pathway, sensing the emptiness of the house. He knocked on the door, but there was no answer.

  “Should we try Grandma’s house?” she asked.

  “Yup. We might be offered a frosty drink even if she has nothing more to tell us,” Gibson answered as he wiped the glisten from his forehead.

  Sparrows, finches and towhees darted across the road as Eckhart crept down Lawsons Lane. Their offbeat clatter warned of further warmth to develop. In the meadow between the two houses, a hawk sat stationary in a towering maple. With a sudden swoop, the raptor plummeted through the pasture and pounced on an unsuspecting prey. He flew back to the tree with a mouse in his large beak. Eckhart steered into Grandma’s yard. She was on the veranda relaxing in the shade.

  “Wasn’t expecting to see you again,” Grandma said. She waved a palm to the wicker armchairs. “Looks like you could use a lemonade.” She scuttled inside without waiting for a response.

  Eckhart slumped onto a bench, stretching her bare legs over the cushion. The rattling of glasses and banging of doors drifted from the kitchen. Grandma pushed on the screen door with her shoulder, her hands engaged with a tray of drinks and biscuits. She deposited it on the side table and plopped back into her rocker. Her skin had a reddish hue from working in the sunlight—a farmer’s face marked with sharp creases. She fastened her untamed hair into a messy bun. Her laughter captivated, so generous of personality. Gibson transferred his chair over to Grandma and settled in for a chitchat.

  “Gregory is a decent lad,” Grandma said out of the blue.

  “He’s fortunate to have your loyalty,” Gibson replied.

  “He wanted to be a schoolteacher like his dad.”

  “Felton was a teacher? I assumed he retired from farming.”

  “Oh, no. He taught for twenty-five years,” she replied. “Gregory planned to follow in his footst
eps until the rape thing.”

  “What grade did Felton teach?”

  “College. He adored it. When he first started, they took his fingerprints. Boy, he was livid. He said it made him feel like a common criminal,” she answered. Her soft, stooped shoulders jerked with amusement.

  “What school was that?” Gibson shifted his chair in tighter and leaned forward.

  “Niagara Peninsula.”

  Gibson pushed back in his seat. What had Katherine said? They would hold her prints on file. He let his mind flit to the probabilities as he quaffed the refreshing drink.

  “We should get moving. Thanks for the snacks. Take care,” Gibson said as he squeezed Grandma’s arm. Her eyes twinkled as if she knew his secret.

  They hopped into the truck. Eckhart fired it up and carried out a three-point turn.

  “We should find Felton’s prints. It’s a lead. What do you think?”

  “Sure. As you once said, leave no rock unturned.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Well, it was something like that,” she replied.

  * * *

  Reggie glanced in his rear-view mirror. He was positive that was the Expedition pulling into the store. No matter. He peered at Savannah and gave her a lopsided grin.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” She grew rigid, the truck bouncing down the lane.

  Reggie swung right and lined up next to Gregory’s Honda. He vaulted out of the Rover. Savannah remained suspended in her seat. He bent back down at the window and stared at her.

  “Aren’t you joining me?”

  “Felton and Margaret don’t like me.”

  “They will after they find out what I have to say.”

  Savannah wet her lips and made a jerky bob of acknowledgment. She gripped the handle and thrust the door open after a moment’s doubt. Her hand passed along the fender as she rounded the vehicle, booting up dust with her canvas sneakers. Reggie turned and signaled her up the stairs.