A Striking Death (25 page)

seventy-four

It was after ten before Drumm left his house. It had been a while since he had been this late leaving for the station and he was feeling a little guilty about it. Nuts to that, he thought. He got into the Miata and drove away.

He was listening to his favourite radio station when he realized he hadn’t thought about Emily for a long time. Days, maybe. He tried to remember when was the last time she had been on his mind. He gave up. He just couldn’t remember and it didn’t matter anyway.

Drumm wheeled the Miata around a corner, enjoying the way the car hugged the road. He accelerated quickly, feeling the power of the engine but then slowed just as abruptly. He had just passed a familiar car parked on a driveway.

More slowly, Drumm went around the block, completing a circuit that left him back where he had seen Emily’s vehicle. He pulled over to the side and stopped where he could observe without being noticed. Emily’s bright green Fiesta was gleaming in the morning sunshine. There was a sign on the lawn: Emily Graham Real Estate. The home was an expensive one, he saw, likely in the million dollar range.

The front door of the house opened and Emily came out, carrying her familiar briefcase. She was laughing and talking over her shoulder to someone, presumably the homeowner. A man followed Emily out and he carefully locked the door.

Drumm looked at the man more carefully. Even though he was sure he hadn’t seen him before, there was something familiar about him. What the hell was it? Why did he know this guy?

Emily and the stranger who wasn’t a stranger were chatting on the porch. Emily’s face was lit up and she was smiling. She reached out and touched the man’s shoulder. The man turned his head and Drumm suddenly realized who he was looking at. No wonder he looked familiar. His face was on half the real estate signs in York. What was his name? Randy something. Richards, that was it. Randy Richards. The agent that Emily was thinking of recruiting. Drumm looked more closely at the sign. Emily Graham Real Estate, it said, but the face on it was Richards’. Looks like Emily had succeeded in her quest to attract one of the city’s most successful agents.

Richards said something and then leaned forward and kissed Emily on the lips. She kissed him back and moved up closer to him. Drumm saw Richards’ hand slide familiarly down Emily’s back and grasp her rear end. Emily didn’t seem to mind.

In his car, Drumm laughed. Maybe he should feel jealous but in reality, he just felt relieved. Emily was really and truly out of his life.

Good luck to her, he thought, as he put the car into gear and drove away. And good luck to Randy Richards. He would need it.

Author’s Note

The city of York, as many readers will of course know, does not exist. It is a fictional place, containing parts of the cities of Newmarket and Aurora, and the Town of New Tecumseth.

When Drumm is on the airplane, reminiscing about being trapped in a dump in Timmins, he is reliving an experience that my wife and I endured. We did indeed, upon the advice of a waitress, drive south quite a distance and enter the city landfill site late in the evening, in hopes of spotting a bear. We
were
locked in, as nightfall approached, and only managed to get out because of the kindness of a stranger. All I can say is, it seemed like a good idea at the time!

Arthur Billinger is not a real person, nor are any of the other characters, but he is based on a teacher with whom I once worked.

I have several times had the misfortune to be on strike, and a more boring, painful experience I have rarely encountered. Hours of pacing back and forth on hard concrete plays havoc with the legs, and it’s not a lot of fun to be honked at and cursed by passing motorists. One tends to walk with different partners at first and then settle into a routine with the same person, much as described in the novel.