Название: Stonechild and Rouleau Mysteries 5-Book Bundle
Автор: Brenda Chapman
Издательство: Ingram
Жанр: Полицейские детективы
Серия: A Stonechild and Rouleau Mystery
isbn: 9781459743205
isbn:
“Yeah, but we could do that without all this food.”
Kala took off her coat and sat down. She looked Rose over carefully. “You do seem better today. Are they holding your waitressing job for you?”
Rose shook her head. “Nah, but I’ll find another.”
Dawn entered with two coffees and Kala jumped up to help. Dawn’s black eyes widened when she saw the cake box on the table.
“Cake, Mom! We haven’t had cake in forever.”
“I hope you like chocolate fudge,” said Kala, smiling. The sight of the girl in ripped jeans and a moth-eaten sweater tugged at her heart. She looked back at Rose who was staring at her with an odd expression on her face. A childhood memory flashed through Kala’s mind. Lily looking down at her hiding in the tall grass, getting ready to lay a trail for the man who was chasing them. Lily’s black eyes hardening at Kala’s pleas not to leave her. Kala shivered and looked back at Dawn as she sat and served up a large slices of cake. She tried to shake off the feeling of foreboding.
They took their time eating the cake, listening to Dawn talk nonstop about school and how much she liked her teacher Mrs. Johnson and all the art projects they did in class. They were going on a field trip to the art gallery on Monday and she couldn’t wait. Rose let her talk without interrupting, glancing at Kala every now and then with pride in her eyes and something else Kala couldn’t read.
It wasn’t long before Kala could see that Rose was getting tired. She’d eaten all of the cake though, so that was a good sign. When Dawn took a drink of milk and was momentarily quiet, Kala said, “Why don’t I take Dawn for a walk and you can have a nap? We’ll come back by four o’clock and make supper.”
“That’d be good. I think I need to sleep for a bit because I did the laundry this morning. Annie should be back by then too.”
Dawn and Kala scooped up the dirty dishes and remainder of the cake and brought everything into the kitchen. Kala hadn’t been in this room before and took her time looking around. The floor was yellowing linoleum, curling at the edges, and the cupboards were fifties-style plywood painted apple green. The stained counter and ancient appliances were spotlessly clean. A small table and wooden chairs filled the spare space. Her eyes travelled to the art gallery on the wall and she stepped closer.
“Dawn, are these your paintings?”
“Yes, all except for this one. My last teacher at the community centre gave it to me for Christmas.” Dawn danced in front of her and pointed to a framed watercolour of daisies in a vase. “She said I was her best student ever. See how pretty? I want to paint like that some day.”
Kala looked from the painting to Dawn and then back at the painting. Her heart quickened. She leaned closer and squinted. “What was the name of your teacher?”
“Pauline. She was nice. See, her name is on the bottom corner.”
It was exactly as Kala had thought. Pauline Underwood. “You said that she quit before Christmas? Can you remember when exactly?”
“Two weeks before. She said that she was going away to get married. She had to get things ready because it was a big surprise.”
“Pauline, your teacher, said that?”
“Uh huh. We used to talk because I stayed late to work on my art projects. She knew my dad was away and said that her husband left her and her kids too for a while, so she knew how hard it was. She was happy we were both going to have them back soon.”
Kala stood still. Something cold and dark travelled up her spine. The curtain had blown back for the briefest of instants, but it was enough. She never doubted the silent, mysterious workings of the universe. Signs were fleeting and intangible. You had to be open to them when they appeared.
She knew that murder could happen when people were pushed too far — when a loved one betrayed a person beyond what they could endure. Betrayal could throw someone who was off-balanced to begin with into a tailspin. She ran the facts of Tom Underwood’s and Benny Goldstone’s deaths and Susan’s near-death in the Gatineau Hills through her mind, and all that she remembered about Pauline Underwood. Comments that family members had made about her inability to cope with Tom’s desertion slotted into place like puzzle pieces. The clues had been there all along, but Pauline had kept herself a quiet presence in the background, hiding her rage behind a facade of normalcy. Pauline had fooled them all and might have still, but for the secret she’d confided in this innocent girl whom she’d had no reason to believe would ever tell anyone of importance. Pauline had shared her fantasy world with Dawn before she learned of Tom’s final betrayal with her best friend.
Kala knew she would have to go carefully and methodically if she was to trip Pauline up. A theory wasn’t enough. She was going to have to find hard proof that Pauline was a cold-blooded killer.
She looked at Dawn standing so quietly beside her. They’d go shopping for new boots and then she’d return to the station to start sifting through the evidence one more time. The night ahead would be a long one, but it felt good to be back on the trail.
36
Sunday, February 26, 7:10 a.m.
Susan waited by the back door, getting overheated in her down winter coat. She could hear Clinton upstairs walking from the bathroom to their bedroom and back again. He must be almost done packing his toiletries and the last of his clothes. A few more minutes and he’d be on his way downstairs.
She waited until she heard him leave the bedroom to cross to the landing at the head of the stairs before opening the front door. She stepped outside into the dark, cold morning, which was all the more painful after two weeks of above seasonal temperatures. Her nightgown under the knee-length coat clung to her legs as she darted down the steps and the icy walk to Clinton’s Toyota. Her breath was a cloud of frosty mist in front of her. She fumbled with the electronic opener and hoisted herself into the front seat, leaving one leg to dangle outside the open door. The engine took some coaxing but turned over on the third try. Clinton had forgotten to plug in the block heater the night before, and it was the coldest morning they’d had in quite a while. She adjusted the dial to turn the heater on full before stepping down to scoot back inside the house.
A white paper fluttering under the windshield wiper on the driver’s side of the frosted window of her van caught her attention. She smiled and carefully removed the paper, tucking it into her pocket.
At last.
Clinton met her just inside the door, putting on his green coat. He’d already laced up his black army boots.
“Cold out there?”
“Very,” she shivered and decided to keep her coat on a while longer.
“A few minutes earlier next time, aye? It won’t have warmed up before I hit the 417.”
“Sorry.” She forced herself to frown as if she really was.
“That’s okay. I’ll call tonight at the usual time.”
“I’ll be waiting. Drive safe,” she said as an afterthought.
He grabbed the sleeve of her coat and pulled her to him. Panic fluttered in her chest for the briefest of moments before СКАЧАТЬ