Dan Sharp Mysteries 4-Book Bundle. Jeffrey Round

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СКАЧАТЬ I never wanted this!” Sebastiano moaned, as though denial could change the outcome. “I never wanted her to come to this terrible place!”

      “Look — pull yourself together. I’m sorry, but you have to pull yourself together.”

      Pulling himself together looked to be the last thing he would be able to do, Dan thought. Fury, exhaustion, rage — these seemed more reasonable responses to expect. His own father had been practically catatonic in the years following his mother’s death, till he liberated himself by drinking himself to an early grave. Why was it so hard for some people to express their grief and so hard for others not to?

      “My god!” Sebastiano wailed. “Why did we have to come here? Why?” He switched to Portuguese, rocking and moaning.

      With Bill’s help, Thom lifted him to his feet and guided him to the door, arms linked like any married couple going for a stroll. Dan held the door to let them pass.

      When Sebastiano came out again, he seemed to have undergone a profound change. His posture was erect, stiff, where before he’d been a rag doll. His eyes were hard, his expression tight. Thom came up and held him in his arms, though it seemed to be Thom who needed reassurance.

      The door opened and Saylor emerged. He approached Sebastiano and said gently, “Sir, thank you for coming in to identify your sister. I know how difficult it was for you to do.”

      For a moment, Sebastiano appeared not to have heard. A look of silent menace spread over his face as Thom put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

      Sebastiano shook off the hand in a fury. “No!” he cried. “She is not my sister. She is my wife!”

      The others looked around in confusion. “He said she was his sister,” Thom insisted forlornly.

      “Sir?” Saylor said. “Are you telling us this woman was married to you?”

      Sebastiano nodded, head in his hands. “In Brazil, yes. She is my wife for two years!”

      Thirteen

      Circumstantial Evidence

      The drizzle that had begun the eve of the wedding returned by afternoon and seemed to follow them home. The two-plus hours it took to return to Toronto was endured mostly in silence. Dan dropped Bill off at his townhouse and cabbed it back to Leslieville. He was at his desk Monday morning. Donny had called three times before Dan got there to say he’d heard about the drowning on the news. The event had been made to sound even more lurid and colourful when magnified by the immigration angle and the novelty of a gay wedding. Dan spoke with him briefly then pleaded work commitments.

      It wasn’t till the following day that he heard anything further. Just before noon he looked up to see his office assistant standing in his doorway.

      “Hello, Sally.”

      “They’re calling it suspicious,” she said, waving a file in front of her. “I thought you’d want to see it immediately.”

      Sally normally had no compunction about barging in unannounced; today, she hovered in the doorway decked out in an orange blouse and burgundy skirt. She seemed dressed for some occasion Dan wouldn’t be privy to: a U2 concert or the arrival of the Dalai Lama. Or possibly a protest at the American Embassy, though that would have required different colours, say, just the right shade of black on black — somewhere between polished charcoal and Death — with militant-looking armbands.

      Dan knew little about her personal life. She was one of the restless MTV tribe that crowded shopping malls and dance clubs, sporting their quirky fashions, celebrity obsessions, and shortened attention spans, and who took time to record their innermost thoughts at Speakers’ Corners and graduated from mid-size universities with vague degrees, hoping for careers in anything arts-related before settling for something less spectacular but more lucrative.

      “Come in, Sally.”

      She took a tentative step forward and stopped, looking around as though she’d never been there before. “Thank god somebody’s got a design sense,” she said, noting the reproductions of abstract art on the walls. “Everybody else’s office is just ...”

      Dan waved her forward abruptly. Startled, she nearly dropped the file.

      “Everybody else’s office is just what?” he said, smiling to show he wasn’t being unfriendly.

      Her eyes went around the room again, comparing what Dan’s office was with what the others weren’t. “It’s like they’re colourless or something. Nothing but beige and grey.” She shook her head over the incomprehensibility of it all.

      “Thank you. You’re the only other one who’s noticed.”

      Sally nodded. “That’s because you and I come from the same planet,” she said conspiratorially.

      Dan leaned forward. “And to what do you attribute all this colourlessness? Our alien nature?”

      Sally cocked her head. “I think it comes from being Canadian,” she said. “We’re raised to be bland and agreeable. Even the immigrants who come here eventually fade into some sort of creeping beigeness. There’s something wrong with that.”

      Dan nodded at the file in her hand. “You said they were calling it suspicious?”

      Sally nodded vigorously as she handed it over. “Big bump on her head. They think someone bashed her and dumped her overboard. You saw the body. What do you think?”

      Dan looked down at the report, thumbed open the cover. “I noticed the bump,” he said. She waited. Dan looked up. “I’ll need some time to look this over,” he said, smiling patiently again.

      “Oh right — of course! It’s all yours.” She turned to leave then stopped and turned back. “One other thing. You probably already knew this too. She was pregnant.”

      Dan looked up in surprise.

      Sally smiled. “Well, you do now.”

      The pregnancy wasn’t the only item of interest in the report. Daniella’s blood-alcohol level showed she hadn’t been drinking. Not a drop. Dan recalled the martini glass he’d watched her empty and how pale she’d looked. And, later, how she stumbled as though she’d been drunk. But she hadn’t. Obviously she’d known she was pregnant.

      He’d just finished the report when the phone buzzed. The display identified the call as coming from the Prince Edward Country OPP. Dan picked up.

      “Hi, Dan, Pete Saylor here.”

      “Pete! How are you?” Dan pictured the neatly dressed officer from Picton, wondering to what he owed the call.

      “Have you got a minute?” Saylor asked.

      “For you, I do — shoot.”

      “I guess you’ve heard we’re calling it a suspicious death.”

      “I just finished the report.”

      “So what do you think?” Saylor asked, launching in without preamble. “You were there. Would anybody СКАЧАТЬ