Tumbled Graves (19 page)

“We could meet at the Merchant this evening.” The words were out before Kala gave them much thought.

Marci Stokes tilted her head and appeared to think the offer over. “I could do that. How's seven?”

“Yeah. Seven works.”

Kala kept walking, not sure what she was going to do but knowing that she was going to have to come up with something fast. She still had to manoeuvre her way through the meeting with Tamara Jones and Mrs. Zelasko at four o'clock with no idea why they'd called her in. Before Gundersund had broken the news of Delaney's suicide she'd left a message with Dawn to call her back in the hopes that she could get a heads up on the school situation. She pulled out her phone and checked for messages. Nothing.

When she reached her truck, she looked back at the Delaney house. Catherine Lockhart had nailed the tragedy on the head when she'd said how quickly this family's lives had changed. All three dead within a week — and barely anyone left to mourn them. She'd seen evidence of a good family in the photos and cozy lived-in rooms when she'd first entered their home. The house had had an aura of happiness, even with Adele and Violet gone. Their essences had felt alive to her that first visit, but not anymore. This time the house felt sad and empty, any lingering traces of the Delaney family driven out by Ivo's horrific end.

As she stood on the road, letting the grief she felt for this lost family ride over her, a gust of wind lifted her hair and cooled the heat on her face. She tilted her head way back and stared at the blue sky, the sun stronger than it had been all month.
Are you circling out there, Ivo? Are you with Adele and Violet and finally at peace?

The wind buffeted the pine and balsam branches in the thicket of trees not far from the property line and rattled the wind chimes left hanging from one of the lower limbs. Kala squinted in the direction of the sound. She caught sight of silver chimes hanging from a hook with the wires attached to a top that looked purple from a distance. She jumped down the culvert and up the muddy knoll, skirting past a boggy patch until she reached the spot where she'd seen the swaying metal tubes. She reached up and lifted the chimes from the pine branch and held them up for a closer inspection. The ceramic top was handmade and the blur of purple up close was a mass of violets, each one meticulously hand painted. Inside the top, she found the words
for my Violet
painted in cursive gold lettering.

There had been love.

Very gently, Kala returned the wind chimes to the exact spot on the branch. The wind caught the chimes and their music began again. Somewhere up above in the pine tree, a cardinal trilled its throaty call. Compost and earth and damp leaves filled her senses. In the shelter of the trees she felt distanced from the activity going on just up the driveway. This place felt sacred. She bowed her head and said a silent prayer for Adele, Violet, and Ivo. She wished them safe journey to the other plane and rest for their tortured souls. When she finished her prayer, she closed her eyes and let the peace of the spot calm her.

When she opened them again and looked toward the house, Gundersund was standing on the front steps, looking toward the road, searching in the direction of her truck. As she watched, he lowered his hand from where he'd cupped it over his eyes to cut the sun's glare. He leaped down the steps and started down the driveway. He still hadn't seen her standing in the shadow of the tree. She turned and cut across the grassy incline toward her truck where she'd wait for him to make his way to her.

M
rs
. Zelasko was dressed in a shapeless lime-green shift sprinkled with watering cans and dahlias, striped yellow and blue tights, and sturdy black clogs. Kala didn't normally notice someone's fashion choices except for identification purposes, but Mrs. Zelasko's wardrobe intrigued her. Surely, the offbeat clothes were deliberately chosen to give her some sort of psychological advantage over her pre-adolescent charges? The woman didn't strike Kala as daft, but these clothes made her appear kooky and untrendy. If not for the intelligence in her eyes and her no-nonsense manner, Kala might have been fooled by her appearance.

They'd been sitting looking at each other for five minutes, Kala at one of the student's desks and Mrs. Zelasko behind her own, when Tamara Jones finally came flying into the room, her brown hair spilling out of an elastic on top of her head.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry. I had to remove a child from a home and it took most of my day.” She dropped a file folder onto the desk and squeezed into the seat across the aisle from Kala. The smile she beamed at them felt out of place after what she'd just revealed.

Mrs. Zelasko shuffled some papers on her desk. “Well, let's get started, shall we?” She looked directly at Kala. “Ms. Jones and I thought it would be a good idea to touch base on how things are progressing with Dawn. Getting right to it, has she admitted to stealing the iPhone, Officer Stonechild?”

Kala met her eyes without wavering. “She has not. I am of the opinion that Dawn didn't steal the iPhone and wonder if we should investigate other scenarios.”

Mrs. Zelasko looked far from happy with this suggestion. “Giving in to a false version of events is not going to help your …” she glanced down. “I suppose we could call Dawn your niece as she's begun referring to you as aunt. Anyhow, perpetuating an untruth will not help in the long run. I was hoping we could have Dawn apologize to the girl in a private meeting, which I would supervise of course. That way, Dawn would take responsibility and the girls could start afresh.”

Kala looked across at Tamara. Her head was bobbing up and down in agreement and Kala knew that the two had discussed this beforehand and arrived at a plan to force Dawn to make restitution. They'd already made up their minds about her guilt.

Tamara's entire demeanor was one of earnest, well-intentioned concern. She asked, “Have you been to counselling with Dawn yet?”

“We have an appointment.” Kala knew that she had to give them something. She hadn't set one up yet, but not because she hadn't meant to. She ventured on. “Perhaps we should wait until Dr. Lyman has a word with Dawn. We wouldn't want to impede any progress that she's been making by jumping the gun on this thing.”

Tamara's face scrunched up into a frown. Mrs. Zelasko appeared to be thinking. When the teacher finally spoke, her words were measured. “I, that is
we
, were hoping to have this problem settled as quickly as possible. When are you meeting with Dr. Lyman?”

“She only has time for us later in the week. I could update you right away after our session.”

“What do you think, Ms. Jones? Can this wait a few more days?”

Tamara tilted her head from side to side, her ears nearly touching her shoulders each time. “I guess we'll have to see if Dr. Lyman can get through to Dawn. Yes, I think this would be the best way to go. Have you noticed any change in her behaviour in the classroom, Mrs. Zelasko?”

“She's still keeping to herself, although I understand that she's been playing baseball at recess.”

Tamara's face brightened. “Well, that is something to build on! How is she at home, Kala?”

“Good. Everything is going well.”

Kala was tiring of this game of cat and mouse. They held most of the cards, but she also had a working knowledge of the social services system. She'd spent her entire childhood in it, learning how to survive.

“Well, let's plan to meet this time next week.” Mrs. Zelasko looked at Tamara. “Can I keep you for a minute after this meeting?”

“Of course, Mrs. Zelasko.”

Kala wormed her way out of the desk and stood. “I'll be on my way then.” She would leave them to it to plot their next moves.

Dawn was waiting for her in the library. She was reading a book at the long table facing the door. She jumped up and grabbed her knapsack when she saw Kala. “I was getting tired of waiting.” They were in the parking lot before Dawn asked, “So? Am I being suspended?”

“Nope, but we're going to have to come up with a plan to keep Mrs. Zelasko and Ms. Jones happy. We can talk about it tomorrow. I'm going to pick up some submarine sandwiches for supper and then I have to head out for a meeting at seven. Will you be okay for a few hours on your own?”

“I'll be fine. Besides, I'm not alone. Taiku keeps me company.”

They got into the truck. Kala leaned on the steering wheel and looked sideways at Dawn. “Do you like living with me? It's okay if you say no. I need to be reassured that you are where you want to be.”

Dawn didn't look away. “I like living with you, Aunt Kala.”

“Then we're good?”

“We're good.”

Kala reached over and turned on the engine. “Well then, we'll just have to figure out what we have to do to keep you with me.”

Perhaps it was a coincidence that Marci Stokes was sitting at the same table that she, Gundersund, and Rouleau had claimed on their previous visits to the Merchant, but the sight of her there gave Kala pause. What were the odds that the reporter would pick their regular table in a place this size? Marci had her back turned, typing away at something on a laptop. Her copper hair was pulled back with a couple of clips but looked untidy, as if she didn't care about her appearance. Kala watched her for several seconds from the doorway before crossing the floor and taking the seat across from her. Marci looked at her over reading glasses resting on the edge of her nose.

“Good, you made it. Drink?” She raised her glass and rattled the ice cubes to attract the waitress. “I'm having a vodka soda.”

“Coffee would be fine.”

“Coffee and another one of these.” Marci slid her glass onto the waitress's tray. She closed her laptop and took off her reading glasses, setting them on top of the case. “You've managed to remain
anonymous
on the Internet aside from the one
Sudbury Star
article and some publicity around a couple of recent cases.”

“What do you need to know?” Kala still wasn't sure which way to play this.

“Your childhood. We could start there.” Marci pulled a small tape recorder out of her pocket. “Do you mind?”

“Can we talk off the record first?”

“If you like.” Marci tucked the recorder back into her pocket. She sat back in the chair as the waitress set their drinks onto the table. When the girl left, Marci took a sip from her glass and watched while Kala added cream to her coffee. “So, what did you want to talk about, off the record?”

“I was wondering how you came across that article. It's not like it was recent or earth-shattering news.”

“Just a regular scan on all the officers. We do them now and then to look for any … issues.”

Kala wasn't convinced this was how she'd found the article but would let it go. The fact was that Stokes had the story and it was time to do some damage control. She'd try some honesty mixed with pleading. “I might have had a rougher past than many, but I'm at a point in my life that talking about it to the public could harm me personally. You see, my niece is living with me and I'm trying to keep her from being moved into foster care. If this story about my past comes out, I'll likely lose her.”

“Surely not. Yours is a story of triumph over terrible odds. We can emphasize the positive. You'll be an inspiration and role model.”

“Not if my niece's social worker hears about this. She only let me have Dawn temporarily because she believes I've led a spotless life.”

“The social worker can't be that naive.”

“Fresh out of university and eager to save the world, one sad kid at a time. She's already put me on notice in several conversations, making it clear that my exemplary life is the only reason she let Dawn live with me. I'm attempting to make this a more permanent living arrangement, but I need the social worker to sign the papers.”

“Why is your niece placed with you? How old is she?”

Kala's normal aversion to speaking about herself and her family conflicted with her need to win this woman over. “Dawn is thirteen. Her parents are both doing time for robberies. I'm all that's standing between her and life in foster care, not a system that I'd recommend to anybody.”

Marci took another drink from her glass, never taking her eyes from Kala. She didn't say anything but Kala could tell that she was thinking things over. Kala took a drink of coffee while she waited. Her hand trembled and she wrapped both hands around the mug as she set it back on the table.

“How about I put the story on the backburner for now? If your situation with your niece changes, we can agree to meet again and you can give me more background.”

A deal with the devil.
Did she have a choice? “Yeah. Thanks for understanding.”

“I'm not in this business to ruin a kid's life.”

Kala took another drink from the coffee mug and thought about leaving. She reached around for her purse hanging on the back of her chair. “I should be going.” She started feeling inside the bag for her wallet.

Marci waved a hand. “This is on me. I dragged you out. One more thing before you leave. We heard Ivo Delaney hanged himself today. Did he confess to killing his family?”

“I can't really say anything that's not been released publicly. I believe there's another press conference in the morning.”

Marci smiled. “You really are a closed off person, aren't you? I guess I'll have to wait to question Rouleau tomorrow.”

Kala stood and slung her purse over her shoulder. “He's in Ottawa but Captain Heath will be available.”

“What's Rouleau doing in Ottawa?”

“A personal matter. Well, thanks again for the coffee and for hearing me out.”

“I'll admit that I'm a bulldog with a good story, so don't think this is the last you'll see of me.” Marci smiled again and opened her laptop. She was typing with her head down when Kala walked away.