Tumbled Graves (12 page)

“Was?”

“The Delaneys owned a cottage north of Kingston on one of the many lakes. The family used to spend their summers there. The father was a bit of an oddball scientist and taught at the university. The mom stayed home and raised Ivo and Olive. Actually, Ivo's name used to be Egor, and the last name was spelled Dellaney, with two Ls. Anyhow, when Ivo was fourteen and Olive thirteen, they went out boating on the lake one evening after supper. Ivo came back alone after dark. Olive's body was found washed up on shore two days later.”

Rouleau took a second to take in her blunt revelation. “I have to tell you that none of this came to light when we did our background search.”

“I'm not surprised. This was twenty years ago and the story didn't make much of a ripple beyond the people at the lake, if you excuse my pun. I happened to find a source who was one of their neighbours.” She held up a hand as if stopping traffic. “Don't ask me how. He said that after the drowning, the family moved to Toronto. Ivo must have moved back as an adult, and that must have been when he changed his name.”

“Was Ivo ever investigated for killing his sister?”

“Nope. It was ruled an accident. His story was that they moored the boat and she went for a swim. He fell asleep and when he woke up, she hadn't returned. He searched around for her until it got dark and then returned to the cottage.”

“He's been treated for depression since he was a teenager.”

“I would say there's a direct link to his sister's death.”

Rouleau drank from his glass and thought over Marci's story. “Where are the parents now?”

“His father died of cancer last year. His mother sold up and moved out west somewhere. Nobody seems to know how to get hold of her.”

“I can get somebody on that. Do you have her first name?”

“Helen. Her last name still has two Ls.”

Rouleau raised a hand to signal the waitress. “Let me return the favour before we head out.” Marci had drained her drink and he gulped down the last of his beer.

“I wouldn't say no.”

Replenished, Marci leaned back and studied him. “Are your eyes really that peculiar jade green colour or are you wearing contacts?”

“Real.”

“Damn. What I wouldn't give. I used to think if I had something like piercing green eyes, I'd be happier. My boyfriend would have left his wife for my green eyes. You ever been married, Rouleau?”

“Once. My green eyes didn't keep her from leaving me.”

“Sorry.”

“Me too. So are you planning to return to New York and take that job your old boyfriend is offering?”

“Thinking about it. Also thinking that returning to my old situation might be the stupidest thing I could do to myself. I'm starting to like Canada. The people are friendly and the killers are a different breed than I'm used to.”

“How so?”

“Less obvious.” She lifted her glass and drained half of it in one go. “Well, time to go file my story about the rise in vandalism on university campus. I'll bide my time a while longer on the Delaney story until you get me a few more facts.”

“I'll be in touch when I have something. Thanks for keeping this information quiet for now.”

“My pleasure.”

He stayed to finish his drink after she left. The bar was getting busier and he had no wish to be alone. His father had left two messages over the course of the afternoon. Time was running out if he was going to see Frances while she could still recognize him. His dad said nobody knew what was keeping her hanging on.

Rouleau finished his beer. He'd pick up some takeout food on his way back to the condo, although he didn't feel like eating. He paid the tab and exited the bar. Night had fallen while they were inside and a breeze had come up off the lake. He pulled up the collar of his jacket and started walking slowly back to his car, parked two streets over. He'd have to call his father back and make excuses for another day's grace. The Delaney case needed his full attention at least until then.

And he needed one more day before telling Frances goodbye.

Kala opened the back door and tiptoed into the kitchen. The clock on the stove read ten-thirty so Dawn would be long asleep. She heard the click of a dog's toenails on the hardwood floor in the living room and Taiku was soon at her side. She rubbed his ears and spoke quietly to him before lifting her eyes and looking into the living room. A light was on and Gundersund was stretched out the length of the couch, Minny lying on his legs.

Kala smiled as the guilt at having left Dawn alone so long lifted a bit. She'd checked her phone messages after dropping Bennett off at the station and a new worry kept her from being completely at ease. Dawn's teacher and social worker had called a meeting for the following day at four o'clock at the school. They might just want to check in to see how things were going, but likely the intent behind the meeting was something more serious. The doubt would be enough to keep her on edge until she knew for sure.

She walked into the living room and over to the couch. Gundersund would have made a fine Viking warrior back in the day, with his too-long blond hair and high cheekbones. The scar on his left cheek added to the illusion. She stood over him for a moment, debating whether to get a blanket to cover him or to wake him up. She took a step back to get a blanket from the chair when his eyes snapped open. He had himself in a sitting position with an arm raised before she had time to say anything. Minny went flying off the end of the couch but landed unhurt.

Kala jumped back. Taiku whined and turned heel into the kitchen with Minny right behind him.

“Glad I wasn't a burglar.” Kala plopped herself down beside him and began to laugh. “Your face … I wish you could have seen it.” She clutched her stomach and doubled over with laughter.

“Very funny,” Gundersund grumbled, but he was smiling. “I had it covered. I was ready to defend the fort if necessary.” He lowered his arm and checked his watch. “You're later than I expected.”

She straightened up and wiped tears from her eyes with the back of one hand. She didn't know if they were from laughing or being over tired. “Traffic was bad getting out of Montreal. An accident tied up a couple of lanes. Dawn asleep?”

“Yeah. I fed her some of that lasagna you had in the freezer and helped her with her math homework. She headed up around nine.”

“Thanks for looking out for her. I sent her a text when I was stuck in traffic but she didn't say you were here.”

“It was my pleasure. I like hanging out with her.”

“Do you think she's settling in okay here, with me?”

“It's going to take time. I guess you know that, but I think she's happy enough. Any particular reason you're asking?”

Kala chewed on her bottom lip. “I'm meeting with her social worker and teacher tomorrow. I only got notice of it late this afternoon. Dawn didn't say anything happened at school today?”

“Nothing. I'd tell you if she had.”

“I guess I'll just have to wait until tomorrow then.”

Gundersund stretched and yawned. He got slowly to his feet and looked down at her. “I'll be heading out. Have you checked in with Rouleau?”

“Not yet. Any news here?”

“He and Woodhouse interviewed Ivo Delaney, who is now back home. We have a nine o'clock team meeting tomorrow morning.”

“I didn't get much information in Montreal but a few things to share. They can wait until tomorrow.”

“Good enough. There's some lasagna left in the fridge if you're hungry.”

After Gundersund's footsteps had receded from the back deck and she knew that she was alone, Kala stretched out on the couch in the exact place where he'd lain. She rested for a moment and breathed in his scent, a mix of soap and the outdoors. He was a comforting man. A good man. She closed her eyes. She knew better than to depend on Gundersund's friendship forever, but she would allow herself to feel happy that he was here for her and Dawn now. For the first time, she realized that she didn't mind having a partner. She could even admit that she looked forward to seeing him. She just had to make sure that she didn't come to rely on him. She knew that if she did, she could expect the inevitable let down. Trusting someone to be there when push came to shove was a fool's game.

She sat up and swung her feet onto the floor. If the social worker wanted to take Dawn away, would that be such a bad thing? Already Kala was getting used to having her around, even looking forward to seeing her at the end of the day. If Dawn left now, she'd get over her leaving without much trouble. That might be for the best for both of them. She could go back to fending only for herself and Dawn would be in a home with somebody better suited to looking after her.

Kala reached over and turned off the lamp on the coffee table, then stood and called for Taiku to come. She made the rounds, checking that the doors were locked before they started up the stairs to bed. As Kala passed by Dawn's room, she stopped at the doorway and looked in. The blind was up and Dawn's bed was bathed in pale moonlight. She was sleeping on her back, her hair fanned out across the pillow, one arm bent over her head. She'd kicked off the covers, which lay half on the bed and half on the floor. Kala tiptoed across the room and bent to retrieve the blankets and tucked them around her. Dawn stirred in her sleep and her eyes fluttered, but her breathing remained deep and regular. Kala stood for a moment looking down at the sleeping girl. She looked so young and beautiful in the silvery light, almost like a princess waiting to be awakened from a dream. Kala reached out and touched the smooth warmth of Dawn's cheek with her fingertips. Then she turned and silently walked back to where Taiku waited for her just outside the bedroom door.

M
an
, I hope that coffee's strong.” Woodhouse grabbed a mug from the selection on the shelf and lined up behind Bennett. “When will I learn not to stay up half the night watching MMA fighting?”

“Are they still showing that garbage?” Bennett handed Woodhouse the coffee pot.

“Mixed martial arts is an art form. Pure poetry in motion. Two men in peak physical condition taking each other on with no holds barred.”

“Not from where I sit. Two people kicking the shit out of each other is not poetic in any sense.”

“All you wusses say the same thing.”

Bennett shook his head and stepped around Woodhouse to take a seat next to Kala's desk. She looked up at him from her computer and smiled. “Getting a cultural lesson from Woodhouse, were you?”

“You might say that.”

They were still smiling at each other when Rouleau and Gundersund walked into the office. Kala looked across the room and saw that Gundersund's eyes were going from Bennett to her and back again. Then he turned to Rouleau and continued talking as they headed over to where Woodhouse stood sampling from his coffee mug. They also poured cups and emptied the pot before walking together toward Rouleau's office. Rouleau called everyone to join them as he passed.

Kala followed Bennett into Rouleau's office and took one of the seats facing his desk. Bennett and Gundersund stood while Woodhouse slid into the seat next to her. Rouleau welcomed everyone to another workday before he reported on the interview with Ivo Delaney. He concluded with, “Bennett, I need you to locate the mother. We have to find out more about her son's mental state and the death of his sister. Her drowning is bearing a striking similarity to Violet's.”

“Will do.”

“Wouldn't he have drowned his wife too?” Kala asked. “I mean, why kill his daughter that way but not Adele?”

Rouleau thought for a moment. “Maybe she put up a fight. Maybe he wanted her to suffer.”

Kala could see the logic, but did this fit with what she'd seen in Ivo Delaney? She wasn't altogether convinced but admitted that the news of his sister's drowning could be the game changer. He might very well be a cold-blooded killer when angry or threatened.

“If you don't agree,” Woodhouse said, “is it because you found some other suspect in Montreal?”

Kala knew his question was meant to make her look incompetent. Rouleau nodded at her to tell them what she'd uncovered.

“When Adele lived in Montreal, she waitressed in a dive bar and stripped on Saturday evenings at that same bar or another one down the street. Nobody knows why she quit suddenly or where she got Violet. I plan to do some more research today. I'm going to start checking adoption agencies, although it was probably a private adoption, which will be more difficult to track down.”

“I think Ivo lost it when he found out she hadn't given birth to the kid.” Woodhouse looked directly at her. “He didn't like being lied to for nearly four years. Nothing more than that.”

Gundersund said, “Still, it would be nice to tie up the loose ends.”

“I'd like someone to head back out to the Delaneys' and interview him today,” Rouleau said. “Are you done at the courthouse, Gundersund?”

“I'm on standby in case I'm recalled, but hopefully they won't need me again.”

“Can you take this on? Stonechild can go with you.”

Kala nodded. She could do the research anytime, at home later today if necessary. Seeing Ivo again would help her to get a better perspective on his state of mind. Adele might even have shared something with him about Violet's parentage that he'd share with them if asked the right questions.

Rouleau picked up a file on his desk. “Good. Well, looks like everyone has some work to do, so report in as you go. Have a good day everyone.”

This time Stonechild agreed to drive together with Gundersund to the Delaneys'. He supposed it was because it was early in the day and they'd be heading back to the station when the interview finished. She seemed on edge whenever she didn't have her own wheels, almost as if her escape plan was compromised.

“Nice spring day,” he commented as he turned onto Division Street. The sky was blue with a filament of wispy white clouds off to the west. “No rain in the forecast for a few days.”

“We could use the break. It felt like the monsoon season was never going to end.” She slumped back against the headrest. “I didn't sleep well last night. I'm tired today.”

“Yeah, I didn't sleep that great either.” He didn't tell her that Fiona was waiting for him when he left her the night before and arrived home. Fiona upstairs in his bedroom with a bottle of red wine and wanting to talk about their separation. It was almost one in the morning before he convinced her to leave. Her parting words were that she was going to fight him on the divorce because she knew it was a mistake.

“How do you want to approach this?”

“Sorry?” he tuned back into Stonechild's voice.

She was looking at him with a quizzical expression on her face. “I said, how do you want to handle our interview with Ivo?”

“I think you should do the questioning. I'll stay in the background. He seemed to trust you last time and we can only hope that he'll feel comfortable enough to start spilling his guts. If he is as ill as we believe, he could be ready to get things off his conscience.”

“Okay.”

They settled back into silence, more companionable than awkward. This past week they'd become friends again. He knew it was because he was helping her with Dawn, but getting on Stonechild's good side had been the furthest thing from his mind when he spent the last few evenings kid-sitting. He felt for Dawn and he liked her. While Stonechild struggled with her new responsibilities, he felt good helping the two of them out at home. Stonechild and Dawn would find their way given time. Right now he wanted to talk to Stonechild about his issues with Fiona. She might have advice on how to deal with a wife who wouldn't take no for an answer. She also might open up to him more if she knew he wanted a divorce. On the other hand, knowing that he was free might make Stonechild run in the other direction.

He took Princess Street through downtown and turned left at the harbour. The water level remained high under the bridge heading out of the city. He thought of Violet and the odds of finding her body with the swelled creeks and rivers. He hoped the rain would hold off for a while and give them a chance to locate her. He didn't like thinking of her out there alone, even if her soul had long left this earth. She needed to be brought home.

They passed ten minutes of silence and a steady stream of oncoming traffic before they turned into the Delaney driveway. He rolled halfway up the drive and parked behind two cars parallel to each other taking up the width of paved space. A ginger-haired boy about four years old sat on the front steps, watching them get out of the car.

“There's the neighbour's son,” Stonechild said. “Sammy Lockhart. Catherine must be inside with Ivo.”

“Did you find out if she's married?”

“No. She's a single mom.”

Gundersund thought for a moment. “It could be another avenue to explore.”

Stonechild paused. “An affair, you mean?”

“Has anyone checked her out?”

“Just the basics. We can add a background search to the list, but I have to say that in appearance, Catherine is no match for Ivo's wife, although she's a freelance writer and seems intelligent.”

“She might be better suited to him. One never knows what's going on behind closed doors.”

“We can do some probing today.”

The boy had scampered inside the house by the time they made it to the front door. Gundersund studied Catherine Lockhart when she answered their knock. Her face was wide browed and pleasant; creamy white skin with red cheeks like a milkmaid in a British movie. The stress of the week appeared to be wearing her out by the dark circles under her eyes. She nodded to Gundersund but spoke to Stonechild. “We came by to check on him. I've had such a time trying to convince Sammy that Violet isn't here anymore.”

Stonechild kept her voice warm and low. “It's good of you to be here. We know how difficult this has been for you and Sammy and Ivo. We have a few questions for Ivo today so having you here is a huge help.”

Gundersund was learning to appreciate how adeptly Stonechild managed the line between empathy and police work. She never said anything without a reason. Woodhouse could take a lesson. He followed a bit behind her as Catherine led them into the kitchen at the back of the house. Sammy was already sitting at the table with his back to them. Ivo looked up from where he sat, holding with both hands onto a cup of coffee that rested on the table in front of him. Sunlight streamed into the room from a large window over the sink, surrounding Ivo in a golden glow. The word demented popped into Gundersund's mind when he studied Ivo's dishevelled appearance and red-rimmed eyes. He looked like a man skirting on the edge of sanity.

Stonechild took a seat kitty corner to Ivo. Catherine put her hands on Sammy's shoulders. “Time for us to go to the grocery store, Son. We'll be back within the hour, Ivo.”

Sammy shrugged off her hands and got out of the chair. “Can I get some ice cream this time?” His voice was petulant and demanding at the same time.

“If you behave as you can. We'll see.”

“I'll be-be-have-have.” He jumped past her and shot down the hallway.

Catherine sighed heavily. “We won't be long. Ivo's out of bread and milk and I thought I'd get something to make a meal for him.” She spoke as if he wasn't in the room.

“We'll wait until you return,” Stonechild said. She met Gundersund's eyes briefly and he could see that she was biding her time and would question Catherine later. He signalled that he was going to slip into the background as they'd agreed and crossed over to the counter out of Ivo's line of vision. From his vantage point, he could see Ivo's face and Stonechild in profile.

Stonechild sat silently beside Ivo for several minutes until Gundersund felt his legs cramping from holding himself in one position. He wondered at her tactics, but in the end her patience paid off. Ivo tipped his head toward her.

“I didn't kill my wife. I sure as hell didn't kill our daughter. Violet was my daughter no matter who …” His voice broke and Gundersund watched Stonechild place a hand on his forearm resting on the table.

“Did Adele ever speak of anyone from her past who might have worried her or done something to her that made her frightened?”

Ivo thought. “No. She always said that the past didn't matter, only the future. It was just this last week that I thought something was wrong. She didn't want to talk about it, that is until she told me that Violet didn't have a birth certificate and couldn't register for school. She admitted that she hadn't gotten Violet by the regular channels.”

“How did she get Violet?”

“A private adoption, she told me. I asked her about paperwork and she said that there wasn't any.”

“Did she say whether Violet was born in Montreal?”

“No. She didn't want to talk about it.”

Stonechild was silent again. Gundersund shifted positions and waited. When she resumed speaking, he too felt himself being lulled by the calm spell she was weaving around Ivo Delaney. “We've learned of your sister's drowning when you were teenagers. Can you tell me about that?”

“Olive?” Gundersund could hear genuine surprise in Ivo's voice. “She drowned but it was an accident. We were out in the boat and she went for a swim. I dozed off and when I woke up, she was gone. Why are you asking me about this? Adele and Violet didn't even know her.” He seemed to see something in Stonechild's eyes. His voice rose. “You can't believe there's a connection.” He half stood from his chair, but lowered himself when Stonechild reached out again and gripped his arm.

“We have to look at all the pieces and put them together as best we can. You've said that you've had difficulty with depression since you were a teenager. You didn't tell us about Olive.” She spoke mildly, without judgment. Ivo responded by sinking back into the chair and blinking, once, twice, three times until his eyes closed.

“My parents blamed me. I blamed myself, not for killing her, but for not saving her. Her death marked every waking minute of my life until I met Adele. She didn't care about my miserable past. She made me happy. Do you know what it's like, officer, not to have any hope left that you'll ever be happy again?”

“I've known my own despair, Ivo.” She spoke so quietly that Gundersund almost missed what she said. “We both know that words don't help, but believe that you will be happy again. We'll find what happened to Adele and Violet and knowing will help you to accept. Remember what you said. You have to go on for both of them. They wouldn't want you to give up. Are you in contact with your mother?”

“No. She wants it that way. She moved to the Okanogan Valley when my father died. I know because she called me to tell me about his death and to say that she was moving out there. He didn't want any contact with me when he was alive and she said she had to respect that. I'm still hoping she'll change her mind.”

“I hope that for you too. For both of you.” Stonechild turned in her chair. “Gundersund, would you make some hot coffee? Ivo's has gone cold and I think we could all use a cup while we wait for Catherine and Sammy to come back.”

“Coming right up.”

He got busy filling the pot with water from the tap and measuring coffee grounds from the canister next to the machine while Stonechild kept up her conversation with Ivo. She didn't find out anything else useful, although Ivo looked slightly more together by the time Catherine and Sammy tromped into the kitchen with three bags of groceries. Stonechild rose from the table and left it to Gundersund to speak with Catherine while she helped Sammy unpack the food. She'd already convinced Ivo to go upstairs to have a shower.