Stonechild and Rouleau Mysteries 5-Book Bundle. Brenda Chapman

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СКАЧАТЬ Tommy, and she was home with him in the mornings. Other than that, she takes a couple of university courses in the afternoons when Tom’s in kindergarten. Brian works at the Sunshine Bakery on Brock.”

      “Would you say Brian and Della were happy together?”

      “I thought so at first, but Della said Brian had to be into the bakery at four a.m. so it meant he was in bed by eight most nights. It was putting a strain on their relationship. Also, I don’t think they had a lot of income. She complained a few times about being stuck without a car. Brian thought the courses she was taking were a waste of time and she told me he didn’t want to pay for her to continue in the fall. She’s working on an undergrad degree in English lit with a psych minor.”

      Rouleau accepted a race car that the child placed on his knee. “Any signs of violence, or did she ever say she was scared of him?”

      Celia bit her lip. “Actually, she went out of her way to say everything was good at home. You know that saying: methinks she doth protest too much? One time she had bruises on her arm. When I asked about them, she laughed and told me she’d walked into the door. She said that she knew how that sounded, but Brian would never hurt her. She kept insisting. The last time I saw her, her left eye was black. She didn’t say how it happened, and I didn’t ask.”

      “Why not?”

      “I didn’t need to. Della finally admitted that things weren’t going so well at home, but she was going to try harder to make it work. That meant stopping our coffee hour and spending more time cleaning the house. She really wasn’t very good at running a house from what I saw.” Celia looked around her kitchen and laughed. “Luckily, my husband doesn’t care what our place looks like.”

      “How well did you know Brian?”

      “I met him a few times, but he worked a lot. Maybe their different backgrounds put another strain on them. Della implied that race was the reason her parents disowned her.”

      Rouleau wasn’t convinced that skin colour was a factor in the Munroes’ current marital problems but filed the comment in his possibility file. “And did you form any impression about him?”

      “He was quiet, an introvert, I’d say. Della’s the opposite … or used to be. I wasn’t sure why they ever hooked up, well, except for their obvious good looks. Brian’s gorgeous, like a football player, and Della’s that outgoing cheerleader type. They were living in Toronto when they met. She was in her last year of high school and he was a few years older. She told me that he was a cook in a fast food restaurant and they saved enough to open this bakery. Della never said too much about it except that she was the one that did all the scrimping and saving; otherwise they’d still be living in some slum high rise. She got pregnant with Tommy right after they hooked up and said it was bad timing but she was always blessed to have him.” Celia shifted the baby onto her shoulder and began patting on its back. “Sex doesn’t carry you as far once the babies arrive if that’s all that’s holding your relationship together.”

      “The long hours Brian had to put into his business must have been difficult.”

      Celia nodded. “Especially with her mother dying and her father shutting her out. I just hope Della’s okay. She deserves someone better than Brian. From what I saw, he needs to control and she went along with it. He never should have made her leave Toronto. She wasn’t cut out to be a housewife in a town the size of Kingston. She was made for a bigger life.”

      The afternoon sun was fading when Rouleau sat across the desk from his new Chief of Police, Malcolm T. Heath. Heath was forty, younger than Rouleau by ten years, but well connected according to Gundersund. He’d used his influence to rise quickly through the force to rank of chief at an age when most were a few levels lower. It hadn’t taken Rouleau long to figure out that Heath wasn’t particularly involved in the day-to-day and didn’t care for detailed reporting. He preferred to be told the big picture and relied on a solid media relations team with himself as spokesperson to keep the force well positioned in the community. Heath’s Achilles heel was scandal. Any whiff of a negative news story and he whipped his communications machine into a frenzy. Rouleau wondered how tenuous Heath’s appointment was and who he owed. He could live with Heath’s PR obsession, however, because it didn’t involve micromanaging cases. Heath left the heavy lifting to the detectives.

      Heath ran a ringed hand through his greying curls and leaned back in his chair to look out the window. On their first meeting, Rouleau had been reminded of a cherub — plump cheeks and rosy complexion with curly hair that women spent serious dollars to achieve in the salon. His round, blue eyes usually focused on a point just beyond Rouleau’s right shoulder. Heath would appear to have drifted off, and then surprise Rouleau with an astute observation. Rouleau was curious to know whether the Columbo routine was for real or a carefully tuned act. He’d buy it, though, if it meant the hands-off approach continued.

      Heath swung his eyes toward Rouleau. “Any movement on the new hire?”

      “I have someone in mind but am having trouble reaching them.”

      One eyebrow lifted. “Odd. Are they working now?”

      Rouleau shook his head. “Kala Stonechild is on a canoe trip and out of range. I’d like to give her a few more days.”

      “I want to be staffed up by the end of the month.” Heath glanced at his computer screen. “Any luck finding a place to live?”

      “I’m still at my father’s apartment. He had foot surgery four weeks ago.”

      “There might be vacant student housing but you won’t want any part of that. I’ll send your email address to a friend of mine in real estate. She should be able to come up with something suitable.”

      “Thanks.”

      “This Munroe case. You think it’ll get any media play?”

      “Depends if it goes to court. The Munroes could battle it out in the press.”

      “Keep me informed.”

      “Will do.” Rouleau stood.

      “I’ll be taking a holiday next week. If something urgent comes up, let Vera know. She has my coordinates.”

      “You’re heading out of town?”

      “Fishing trip in Northern Quebec. Rainbow and lake trout, pristine lakes, and blue sky that goes on forever. It’s my yearly pilgrimage to commune with nature.”

      Rouleau looked closer at Heath. Heath’s eyes were guileless behind wire-framed reading glasses. Rouleau could picture him on a cruise or stretched out next to a pool with a martini in his hand, but definitely not tromping around the woods or sitting patiently in a boat waiting for fish to bite.

      Rouleau stood to leave. Heath scribbled something on a writing pad and ripped off the top sheet. He handed it to Rouleau.

      “Tell Laney Masterson that I sent you. You should have a place to call home by next weekend.”

      “Thanks, I’ll give her a ring.” Rouleau glanced down at the paper. Heath had written Laney Masterson’s phone number from memory.

      He stopped at Vera’s desk on the way to his own office. She lifted her unusual almond-shaped eyes from the computer screen and met his. They were the warm amber colour of his ex-wife Frances’s tabby cat.

      “Question, СКАЧАТЬ