Bad Medicine (10 page)

He finally came up with a plan that called for working from home the next day. He spent the morning working, getting some phone calls out of the way and updating his reports. For lunch, he threw a burrito into the microwave and ate while he finished his notes.

Finally, he put the paperwork away and headed down
Commercial Drive
, stopping at every flower vendor he passed and gathering paper cones filled with flowers. Next, he went to the Pottery Barn and selected a dozen vases. His last stop was the Gift Emporium, where he chose a dozen "I'm Sorry" cards. Back at his condo, he filled the vases with flower and taped a card to each one. Getting out his master key, Jesse carried them all over to Martine's and arranged the vases on every shelf and table in sight.

Finished, Jesse went home to wait.

He'd almost given up on getting a response in time to carry out the rest of his plan, when a sharp knock sounded on his door.

Wish me luck, he addressed the Ojibway medicine man hanging on his wall, then he opened the door and had to smother his laughter.

Martine stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips and fire in her eyes.

"I suppose there's an explanation for someone entering my place when I wasn't home."

"I thought I smelled smoke." Jesse kept his expression poker straight. "As your landlord it was my duty to make sure you were safe."

"And the flowers? I suppose you put them there to cover the smell." Martine couldn't keep the laughter out of her voice or the twinkle out of her eyes.

"Guilty." Jesse wrapped her in his arms and pulled her into a crushing embrace. "I'm so sorry. Can you forgive me for being an idiot?"

"Well…"

"Please. I can't stand having you mad at me. Besides, I've got a bribe."

“What?” Her eyes turned dark with suspicion.”

Jesse smiled and opened the door wide, so she could see the table beautifully set for two with a chafing dish set in the middle. “Jambalaya.”

“You’re kidding. You made this.” Martine approached the table and sniffed the air.

“A Creole friend taught me. Wait till you taste it with the bannock.”

“Bannock too. Okay, she pulled out a chair. You’re forgiven.”

They’d eaten their fill and then discussed various aspects of the case. When Martine brought up the protest meeting, Jesse cautiously suggested that they should have a code that either one of them could text very quickly if they were in trouble. Martine gave him a funny grin, but agreed that it was good idea and they settled on
Spirit Water
as their
SOS
.

Chapter Eleven

Martine finished applying the last coat of dark red lipstick and stepped back to survey herself in the full-length mirror. Black hair hung to her waist, with a few wisps that had been twisted and sprayed into spikes at her temples. A thick layer of white pancake covered her face, and she'd lined her eyes with the kohl black favored by her new contemporaries.
 

Should be good. Martine smoothed the purple miniskirt and checked the tops of the purple suede thigh highs that completed her new age costume. Satisfied, she grabbed her black suede bag and hustled out the door and down the steps to
Commercial Drive
.

The house behind Britannia opened into a large workroom and Diana greeted Martine as soon as she stepped through the door.
 
Les wasn't there and Diana explained that he was on some kind of special assignment.

For the most part, the workers consisted of young college students, intent on making a difference to the environment. They were a lively group, excited about their cause and dedicated to equal justice for man and animal alike.

There were mailers to be stamped, posters to be fastened onto stakes for delivery to the neighborhood and leaflets to be folded. Martine worked steadily for a couple of hours when she noticed several volunteers gathering their jackets.

Guthrie, who had ignored Martine up to this point, appeared at her elbow.

"The others got here a couple of hours before you and I did." He leaned in close and Martine forced herself not to shudder.

"If you could finish up this last stack of mailers, I would be a great help." He rested his hand on her shoulder. "What do you say? Are you game to help me?"

Warning bells sounded in her head, but anxious to find out if he knew anything about
Shannon
, Martine shut them down. After all, there were a dozen others listening to Guthrie's request.

"I guess I could stay for another hour to help you finish the mailers." Martine raised her voice to make certain the others heard her agree to stay behind with Guthrie.

"That's a good girl." He squeezed her shoulder and walked away.

For the next hour, Martine worked steadily, folding and sealing the mailers and then packing them in a box for delivery to the post office.

Gradually she relaxed and forgot about being alone with Guthrie. Across the room, he worked on a box of posters, fastening them to stakes as stacking them into a crate.

Finally, finished with the last of the mailers, Martine, picked up her bag and walked over to say goodnight to Guthrie.

 
"Finished?" Guthrie closed the crate he'd been working on. "I certainly appreciate the work you've done today." He smiled and once again Martine controlled the urge to shudder.

"I can't let you go without at least offering some refreshments."

"Thank you, but I really don't need anything. I should be getting home.” Martine held up her cell phone, typed a few strokes and pushed the send button. “My room mate’s expecting me."

"Nonsense, I insist you at least have a glass of milk and a cookie. It'll only take a minute." Guthrie grabbed her arm and as they talked he led her toward a door at the back of the room.

"I have everything we need right back here." He pushed the door so it swung inward and, in the same instant, gave Martine's arm a powerful yank and dragged her through the open doorway.

A monstrous brass bed spread with a bright green comforter dominated the room, and the meaning of the rabbit with the glowing green fur flashed into Martine's brain. Desperate to get away she lunged at Guthrie, but he only spun her around and flung her down on the bed.

"No you don't my pretty." He pulled her arms behind her back and tied her with what felt like a leather belt.

"Help," Martine screamed at the top of her lungs.

"We can't have that now, can we?" Guthrie crooned in a high-pitched singsong voice. He flipped her over and slapped a strip of electrical tape across her mouth.

"There. Now we won't be disturbed."

Martine bucked against the mattress, using her legs to propel herself across the bed.

Guthrie pounced on top of her, flattening her beneath him and knocking the wind out of her lungs.

"Feisty little thing, aren't we." He grabbed her legs and spread them apart. We'll have to fix that, but first, let's get these things off you." While Martine threshed and bucked, Guthrie yanked her pants and panties down her legs and tossed them aside.

Martine bucked forward on the bed, flinging her bound arms, trying to smash them against Guthrie's skull.

He laughed and forced her body back down on the mattress. Then he took a leather thong out of his pocket, and tied one of her legs to the bottom bedpost.

Martine continued to thresh and buck, but to no avail. The more she struggled the more Guthrie laughed. He tied her other leg, then grabbed her arms and yanked them over her head.

Gripping both arms with one hand, he released the tie binding them together.
 
Then, mindless of Martine's struggles to free herself, he grabbed her shirt, pulled it over her head, pulled it off one arm, then switched hands and pulled the shirt off her other arm and tossed it aside. Next he unfastened her bra and threw it after the shirt. Straddling her and pinning her arms, he removed first one and then the other arm from under his legs and tied her hands to the bedposts.

"There, now isn't that nice." He leaned back and clapped his hands. "We're going to have such a good time."

Martine's eyes widened in terror as Guthrie got up from the bed, crossed the room and brought a chair back to her bedside.

"First I want to tell you a story." He reached inside the drawer of the bedside table and took out a deck of Medicine Cards.

"I imagine, you being an Indian, you know how to read these." Guthrie removed a card and laid it on the bed. "The Snake," he said, then shook his head. "No. I've already used that one." He leered at Martine. "But, you know that don't you, my dear."

Martine held her breath.

"I think this one is for you." He took out the fox card and laid it beside the snake. "You didn't think I fell for your little teenager routine did you?" He stood up and leaned over Martine.

"I know all about you and that pretend-a-cop boyfriend of yours." He smiled his creepy smile and stepped back from the bed. "I need to lock the front door,” he said, “and then we'll have all night to get to know each other better."

Chapter Twelve

"I must be nuts letting you drag me away from my dinner table and out into this godforsaken rain on nothing more than one of your gut feelings." Mark Hanson grumbled as he and Jesse sped across the city in Jesse's jeep.

"You don't wish that any more than I do." Jesse spoke through gritted teeth. "I'll take a dressing down from you any day if we just find Martine safe and sound and this turns into a wild goose chase."

"I suppose you know that this Guthrie is regarded as something of a 'pillar' of the community. Not to mention the fact that he's a lawyer. The son-of-a-bitch, and I'm going to look like a damn fool going in there and questioning him about some girl he has every right to claim he's never laid eyes on."

"I'll take the heat, if it comes to that." Jesse led the way up the steps of the small square house almost hidden behind the main Britannia buildings.
 

"I didn't even know there was a house back here." Hanson puffed his way up the steps.

"Apparently Guthrie had it built. His Clayoquot Sound Project has the right of use for five years and then it reverts to Britannia."

"Nice. Free land, free use, tax deduction and the bastard gets to be a hero on top of it all."

"Won't be so nice if he knows what's happened to those girls and hasn't come forward."

"I'll do the knocking." Hanson stepped in front of Jesse and rapped sharply on the door. The guard up front said he hadn't come out, so he's got to be in there." Hanson pounded his fists against the door.
 
"This is the police. Open up or we'll have to bust the door down."

There were several moments of silence, then footsteps sounded against the hardwood floor.

"Open up in there, Hanson yelled again, and they heard a lock being turned and then a chain being removed.

"What is the meaning of this outrageous behavior." Guthrie poked his head around the door and glared at Jesse. Then he turned to Hanson.

"I presume you have some identification."

Mark pulled his badge out of his breast pocket and held it out for Guthrie to study.

"What can I do for you Detective?" Guthrie continued to stand in the doorway blocking their entrance.

"You can open the Goddam door and let us inside so we don't have to wonder what the hell you're hiding in there." Mark's loud bark appeared to shake Guthrie. He stepped back and pulled the door open, with what Jesse figured was a lot of reluctance, and let the two men inside.

"I understood you had a group of young people here," Mark scanned the large room. "I don't see anyone. Do you know where they've gone?"

"Home I expect, or wherever young people go when they finish work. Everyone left an hour ago. I was finishing some paperwork and then I'll be leaving myself."

"We're looking for one particular girl. She'd be new to your organization, about five feet five inches, slim build, long black hair, made up like what they call Goth."