The Hard Fall (3 page)

Shaw dropped into his desk chair and looked me up and down like a murder suspect. I was leaning against the filing cabinet, pretending not to notice. I was trying not to think of how much I disliked him.

“Didn’t figure I’d be seeing you back here,” he said. “How’s it going, Sweet?”

“Oh, you know. It’s going.”

This was about as good as it got between Shaw and me. He’d led the grilling I faced after I shot and killed a fourteen-year-old kid high on drugs. It was the event that made me end my short career on the force. I was cleared but would never forget how much Shaw enjoyed making me squirm. He was built like a bear with hulking shoulders and hands the size of baseball gloves. He rarely smiled. His nickname was “Ice Cube” because he was about as cold as one.

“You looked into the Laura Flint murder,” I said.

“Yeah. Married boyfriend did it.”

“His lawyer has hired me to give the case another look.”

“Good luck with that. Paul Taylor’s going to get life. He might be a smart business man and big deal city councillor, but he’s stupid as killers go. Crimes of passion never work in the killer’s favour. Too messy.” Shaw scowled. “Taking this case isn’t going to make you look too smart either, Sweet.”

I decided to ignore the jab, since the same thought had crossed my mind more than once. “Have you got a file on Laura Flint that you can share?”

“What, now you’re going to make it look like she deserved what she got?”

“No. I want to speak with her family and friends. She might have had other enemies.”

Shaw’s top lip lifted. For him, this was as good as a belly laugh. “Yeah, right. Somebody else got her naked in Taylor’s bed and held a pillow over her face. She lay there and took it. Keep chasing down
that
lead. You’re going to look like a genius.”

“Doesn’t it seem strange to you that if Taylor killed her, he just left her in his bed? Don’t you think he’d at least try to cover up his crime?”

Something shifted in Shaw’s eyes. I could tell that I’d hit on a loose end that still bothered him. We both knew Taylor wasn’t a stupid man. Leaving Laura in his bed in his locked house didn’t make sense.

Shaw let out his breath, long and slow. “Who knows why people act like they do after a murder? All I know is that Taylor’s the only one with both motive and opportunity.” He typed on his keyboard for a minute. Then he stood and looked down at me. “I’m going on break for half an hour. If you want to stick around and wait, that’s up to you.” He swung his screen around so that I could read Laura Flint’s file.

“Thanks, Shaw,” I said. “I owe you one.”

“No, now I figure we’re even.” His pale blue eyes met mine. I almost thought I saw regret in their depths. I didn’t know whether it was for the grilling five years ago or the thankless job I was doing now. Either way, I would take what he was offering. I had nothing else.

J
ada was sound asleep on the couch in our office. A newspaper covered her face. Her hands were crossed on her chest as if she’d been praying. I nudged her arm. The paper fell to the floor when she sat up. She gave me a sleepy grin.

“What a case I’m on. I spent the night chasing after Dick—he would be the husband—and his buddies. They must have hit every strip club between here and hell.”

“Did Dick the husband do anything that would make his wife leave him?”

“Two lap dances but nothing else. Not enough to end his marriage. I’m going to have to keep following.”

“Maybe this will be one of those cases that renews your faith in husbands and wives.”

Jada shook her short black locks and held out her hand. I took it and pulled her to standing position. “Next you’re going to tell me you still believe in the tooth fairy. Your trust in people is refreshing, Anna Sweet. Misplaced, but refreshing.”

She crossed to our little fridge and took out two beers. We put the desk chairs side by side and popped the caps. Before taking a swallow, we both leaned back and put our feet on the desk.

“So, any progress on the Taylor file?” she asked.

“Not really. I’ve got the name of Laura Flint’s cousin to follow up on tomorrow. Means a drive to Perth in the morning. Taylor also has two vice presidents in his company who turned on him pretty quickly. If nothing pans out with them, I’m afraid Paul Taylor looks guilty as sin. Even his lovely wife believes he did it, from what I read in her eyes.”

“You’re focusing on the victim?”

“I’m going to look at her life as well as Taylor’s. If he didn’t kill her, then somebody in her life had a reason.”

“Well, drag it out. Every day makes us that much richer.” Jada took a long drink from her bottle. “What do you think about hiring an office manager?”

I looked around. We had a used desk, three chairs, a couch, and a beer fridge. The other room was still empty. We weren’t exactly on easy street. “Do you think we need one?”

“We could try someone out to drum up business.”

“So we would need someone with people, marketing, and accounting skills who works well alone. Also, they should have another income because this one won’t be enough to cover their rent.”

“I’m just saying, if we want to make money, we’ve got to spend some. The right person could get us cases by promoting our services. They could run this office while you and I are working cases.”

I thought it over. Jada had been an Ottawa cop, too. She’d gotten tired of being the token black female handing out parking tickets. This business meant more to her than it did to me. I was hanging around for the year until my father was feeling better. At least, that’s what I told myself. I knew I should care more than I did about making our business grow. It might also make it easier for me to leave if Jada wasn’t alone.

“Okay,” I said. “Let’s get someone.” I drank the last of my beer and patted her knee. “Time to go home and make my dad’s supper.”

Jada’s wide smile was enough to make me feel guilty. “I’m going to catch a bit more sleep before I’m back on Dick the husband watch. I sure hope he stays home tonight. The guy loves to party.”

“You’re getting old, Jada Price. Was a time you liked to party, too.”

“I still like a good time. Just not in strip clubs, biker bars, and pool halls.”

“Where is his wife when he’s out playing with his buddies?”

“Working night shift in a seniors home. He works nine to five selling cars and has his evenings free.”

“Great way to keep the love alive.”

“Isn’t it just? This job is going to make me swear off men.”

I put my feet on the floor and stood up. “I’m way ahead of you there. I swore off them years ago.”

* * *

I’d parked my car on a side street some distance from our office. I set out with my head down, thinking about the pictures of Laura Flint’s body. She’d looked as if she was sleeping, not dead. Like she would wake up at any moment. Her photos brought home the tragedy more than anything else.

I reached the corner and heard footsteps running behind me. I stopped to wait for a couple of cars to pass. I turned my head to glance over my shoulder at the person jogging by. I briefly saw a man in black sweatpants and a black hoodie bearing down on me. I had no time to react; no time to be afraid. His hand shoved hard into my back on his way past. I stumbled off the curb. My arms reached out wildly as I fell onto my knees on the road. The driver of a white Mazda leaned on his horn. The car swerved into the oncoming lane, tires squealing, just missing me by inches. The driver sped off without waiting to see if I was okay.

I rolled back toward the curb, trying to flatten myself against it. I heard the next car getting closer. It came very near but screeched to a stop. I heard doors slamming and then saw the driver and his passenger race over. Two pairs of hands lifted me onto the sidewalk. They helped me to stand. My knees and hands throbbed from the impact of striking the pavement. I put weight on my legs. Nothing was broken.

“You could have been killed,” the woman said. She didn’t release her hold around my waist. She sounded terrified.

“Should we call an ambulance?” the man asked. He was white haired and had shocked grey eyes.

“No. No. I’m fine,” I said. I looked down the street. The jogger was gone. “Did you see the man who pushed me?” I asked.

“Somebody pushed you?” the woman said. She looked in the same direction that I was looking. Then, she turned to the man. “I didn’t see him. Did you, George?”

He shook his head. “You should report this to the police.”

“What is this world coming to?” the woman asked. “We’re not safe in the middle of the day in our own city.”

“I’m okay,” I said. “He must not have seen me. I’m sure it was an accident.”

“Well, he could have stopped after you fell. He couldn’t have missed the horn honking and the car tires squealing.”

The couple left me after they were certain I was all right. I limped back to my car where I checked the scrapes on my hands and knees. I was going to have bruises. I sat for a while in the driver’s seat until the pain lessened. The attack had left me shaken, but also angry. It had felt personal. Was somebody trying to keep me from digging into the Flint murder? Had I scared somebody enough to want me dead?

* * *

Cheri’s new black BMW was sitting in Dad’s driveway when I arrived home at seven. I found a place to park on the street four houses down. It would have been nice to keep driving around until my sister left, but Dad might need saving. My knees also needed some attention.

Evan opened the front door as I climbed the steps. “Aunt Anna! You were so late that Mom made spaghetti for supper. I set the table.”

I ruffled his blond hair and bent down for a hug. I whispered in his ear, “Did she remember to boil the water before putting in the pasta?”

“I made sure this time,” he whispered back.

“How many days before you turn six?”

“Three days until my party!”

“If you’re this smart at five, look out six. Your dad on evening shift?”

“Yup.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. It had been nearly six years since Jimmy and I were a couple. I’d been gone from Ottawa for five of those years. I still felt awkward whenever I saw him. It was hard to see my sister married to the man I’d planned to spend my life with.

Evan and I walked into the kitchen. Dad was sitting at the table typing on his laptop. I went to the freezer and got a couple of ice packs.

“What happened to you?” Dad asked.

“Just had a tumble on the sidewalk,” I said. I sat down at the table next to Dad and held the packs on my knees. They felt cool on my sore hands.

Cheri began scooping tomato sauce onto plates of spaghetti. “A little sticky,” she said, “but we won’t be hungry later. Here, Evan. Serve your grandpa.” She handed him a plate.

Cheri brought over the other three plates of spaghetti, and she and Evan took their places at the table. Dad was the first to brave a forkful of pasta. His eyes got wider as he started chewing.

“What did you add to the canned sauce, Cheri?” he gasped with his mouth full.

“A few spices from your cupboard and some leftovers from the fridge. Do you like it?”

“Um hum.” He kept chewing the same mouthful while he tried to drink from his water glass.

I stood. “Why don’t I open that red wine we were saving, Dad? We also have some buns and peanut butter around here somewhere.”

Dad and Evan nodded. Cheri glared at me. Then she tasted the sauce and pushed away her plate. She reached for Dad’s plate. “Okay, this is disgusting. I’ll order pizza.”

Evan giggled.

* * *

Evan started yawning at nine o’clock. Cheri told him it was time to head home and she hugged us goodbye. I returned to the kitchen after walking them to the front door.

“I thought they’d never leave,” Dad said. He was already back to hitting keys on his laptop.

I set a cup of tea next to him on the kitchen table and sat down. I’d left the tea steeping while I saw Cheri and Evan out. “Find anything interesting?”

“It seems the person who shot Roger Flint while hunting in the bush outside Calgary was never found. The police tested the guns of the two people hunting with him. Both came up clean.”

“Wow. If it was an accident, why didn’t somebody come forward?”

“My thought exactly. That’s why I phoned an army buddy who is now retired in Calgary. He had an interest in the case because Laura Flint and his daughter went to school together.”

“Did he give you any information about Laura and her family?”

Dad smiled. “Laura was adopted by the Hills when she was three years old. She was a wild teenager and married Roger Flint when she was seventeen, right out of high school. Roger was older and owned a home and a restaurant. She’d been one of his part-time waitresses.”

“Marrying the owner is one way to get out of waiting tables,” I said.

“Three years later, he wound up dead. Laura sold up and left town. Word was she moved around a lot, living the high life.”

“Did she have a new man in her life?”

“No way of knowing, although rumour was that she did. She was cleared of shooting Roger, by the way. She was nowhere near the woods.”

“I wonder how she landed in Ottawa.” It seemed like an odd choice for a woman who’d had her pick of cities.

“Her cousin Maddie Ringer and Maddie’s husband Allan live in Perth, an hour from the city.”

“And I’ll be paying them a visit tomorrow,” I said. “A cop friend gave me the address. Sorry, Dad, but I have to go to bed. It’s been a long day.”

“I’ll just finish up a few more leads. Go ahead and get some shut eye.”

I stopped at the door leading into the hallway. Dad’s face was lit up by the computer screen. His eyes had regained their sharp blue intensity. His lips moved as he silently read whatever he’d pulled up on the screen. He reached over to jot down something on a notepad he kept nearby.

Sometimes, like right now, I allowed myself to believe that everything was going to work out okay. Dad was going to recover and get back to his old, crusty self. I’d finish out my year with Jada as promised. Then I’d leave this city and everyone in it far behind. I’d continue my life on the road right where I left off.