Indiana Pulcinella

MONDAY, JANUARY 27
chapter 8

Child Abductors to Appear in Court

Efram Milton, his wife Alison Milton, and Lyle Pratt appear in court in Calgary tomorrow to answer charges of attempted child abduction.

The three were arrested last Wednesday night at the Foothills Medical Centre. They allegedly attempted to abduct a newborn boy with the intent of transporting him to an undisclosed location in Utah. All three are members of Paradise, a polygamist community approximately 150 kilometres south of the city.

Crown Prosecutor Lilian Choi said, “These three plotted to kidnap an infant and hide him from his mother. The accused pose a considerable flight risk. I will ask that they be remanded in custody until a trial date can be set.”

A fourteen-year-old female accompanying the trio was released into the custody of her uncle.

Lori stood up from behind her computer screen. She held up the newspaper, pointing at an article. Lane could see she wore a blue knit sweater, a white scarf, and blue wool slacks. “You still have a way to go before you’re back in my good books.”

Lane set down the cardboard tray of drinks he’d brought with him. He lifted a cup of tea out of the tray, setting it next to Lori’s keyboard.

“Really?” Lori folded the paper into quarters, setting it down next to the tray. She pointed at the headline. “Just what gives them the right to come after Indiana?” Lori’s complexion moved into the red zone.

Lane nodded. He took off his winter jacket, put it over his arm, and lifted the tray with two coffees. The detective cocked his head to the right. Lori followed him into his office. He hung his jacket over the back of his chair, set a coffee down on Nigel’s desk, then pulled out the last cup, took a sip, and closed the door. “Sarah, my sister’s daughter, said they were planning to take Indiana to some compound near St. George, Utah.”

“In the desert north of Vegas?” Lori pulled the tea bag from her cup, swinging it with a wet thunk into the garbage can.

Lane nodded. “Apparently there are polygamist communities near there. Indiana is home now.”

“And you think I’ve forgiven you for keeping this to yourself?” Lori set her tea down so she could cross her arms.

Lane opened his mouth, then closed it again.

“Your entire family must still be on edge after what happened to Matt.”

Lane shrugged. “They are.”

Lori gave him a look, the Lori look that said Don’t bullshit me.

“I need your help. I want you to go and get your hair done.”

Lori laughed. “You need my help? You think you can change the subject by telling me to get my hair done? That’s pretty pathetic.”

“Four of the women killed have the same hairdresser.”

“Four? I thought it was two.”

“Four.”

Lori laughed again. “You want me to get my hair done so I can be number five?”

“I just want to send you to the salon. You get your hair done and tell me what you see while you’re there.” Lane took a sip of coffee. “Nigel and I will be right next door.”

“What’s next door?”

“A bicycle shop.” Lane felt his face heat up.

“You don’t think hanging around in a bicycle shop in the middle of January will look a bit suspicious?” She shook her head and picked up her tea, watching Lane.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“You betcha. Next time you let me know what’s goin’ on. That’s how I stay so well connected. And that’s how I keep your ass out of the flames. So, you think if I get out of the office to get my hair done, all will be forgiven? This is a funny way of saying you’re sorry.”

“The woman’s name is Donna Liu, and she works at Platinum.”

“Is she the killer?” Lori looked left at Lane’s extra-wide computer screen.

Lane shook his head. “I don’t think so. It’s Cori I want you to watch.”

Lori nodded. “Will I use my real name?”

“No. Use a fake name. I’ll get you a cell phone with a new number you will use to contact Donna. That way you won’t be traceable. If you see any sign of trouble, I want you out of there.” Lane set his coffee down. “You can say no for any number of reasons, including the fact this is outside your job description and outside of normal procedure.”

“Then why are you asking me?”

Lane smiled. “Because I trust your judgement, and you know people.”

“I do know people.” She pointed a finger at Lane. “You got a phone number?”

Lane handed her a compact pink phone. She took it gingerly. “Where’d you get this?”

Lane raised his eyebrows.

Lori dropped her chin, lifted her eyebrows, and rolled her eyes.

“Okay. I’ve got some phones left over from when Matt and Jessica were kidnapped. That’s one of them.”

“Was that so hard? Now, what was Platinum’s number again?”

Lane read out the number, and Lori dialed. She gave him the thumbs up when the phone began to ring. “Hello, I’d like to make an appointment for a cut and trim with Donna.” She raised her eyebrows. “A cancellation? This afternoon?” Lori looked at Lane, who nodded. “I’ll take it. Two o’clock? My name? Ute. That’s right. New client. See you this afternoon.” Lori looked at the phone, pressing the end button. “We’re on.”

Lane smiled. “Ute?”

Lori rolled her eyes. “Ute was my grandmother’s name.”

Lane and Nigel sat in a Vietnamese restaurant within a snowball’s throw of Macleod Trail. Lane looked at the traffic easing along the six-lane roadway leading either to the centre of town or south toward the US border. Hoods and windshields glinted in the sunlight. Exhaust swirled from tail pipes. On either side of the road, pedestrians wore mitts, toques, and winter jackets to hold out the cold. Inside the restaurant, a man at a nearby table slurped spicy noodle soup. Nigel frowned at the noise. “I still can’t believe you did this.”

Lane reached for his water. The waitress, who looked to be seventeen, had rouge on her cheeks, blue makeup around her brown eyes, a ponytail, and graceful fingers. “Ready to order?” She adjusted her white blouse to reveal the top of a blue camisole.

“What’s your best soup?” Nigel asked.

“You like spicy?” There was a husky edge to her voice.

Nigel nodded.

“The satay beef will warm you up on a day like this.” She looked at Lane.

Nigel said, “I’ll go with that.”

“Me too. And thank you.” Lane handed her his menu and smiled.

The waitress smiled back, taking both menus and walking to the counter outside the kitchen. A middle-aged man with a round face and body to match watched from behind the counter, smiling at Lane.

“Male or female?” Nigel asked.

Lane looked back at Nigel. “Does it make a difference?”

“Just wondering. She looks like a she, but her hands and her voice lead me to believe otherwise.” Nigel reached for his water.

Lane shrugged. “She is who she is, and she is very nice to us.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Lane shook his head. “You hit a nerve.”

Lori thumbed through a magazine on hairstyles. Perfect faces, perfect teeth, perfect makeup appeared on every airbrushed page. She thought, I hope Donna is good at what she does. If she fucks up my hair, Lane is going to get an earful.

“Ute?” a voice called.

Lori continued to look at the styles and faces in the magazine.

“Ute?”

That’s me! Lori stood up, grabbing her purse and looking at a woman with shoulder-length black hair wearing a yellow shirt reaching mid thigh. Donna wore black tights under the shirt and a pair of tan high-heeled boots reaching her knees.

“Come on over. I’m Donna.” She led the way to a chair in the middle of three, facing a counter and a mirror the size of a coffee table.

Lori sat down, tucking the heels of her boots over the bar at the bottom of the chair. Donna took out a black cape to cover Lori, attaching it snugly around her neck. Lori watched in the mirror as Donna touched her hair.

Donna said, “What are you looking for?”

A killer. “A trim, and touch up the grey. And… make me look twenty years younger.”

“If I knew how to do that, I would have a big office, a chef, and a personal trainer for hot yoga.”

Lori laughed, then saw a white cell phone dancing on the counter.

Donna hesitated.

“Go ahead.”

Donna reached for the phone. “My mom is on her way to China. I asked my brother to call when they get there.” She pressed a button on the phone. “You made it okay?” Donna listened.

Lori tried not to be obvious while listening in.

“So, Mom’s feeling okay? She’s hungry? That’s a good sign. Thanks for calling.” Donna put the phone back on the counter.

“You’re close to your mom?”

“Yes. She’s back in China for the first time since we left over thirty years ago. It’s a big deal for her.”

“You’re lucky to be close to your mom.”

“Very.” Donna lifted a strand of Lori’s hair, making eye contact in the mirror. “Short? Long?”

“I like it longer.” If this turns out to be a mistake, Lane will owe me ’til the day he retires!

“How about the colour? You want it a shade darker or lighter?” Donna studied her client’s reaction.

Lori saw the intensity in those eyes, recognizing the intelligence behind them. “What do you think?”

Donna looked at Lori in the mirror. “I’d go just a shade darker.”

“Okay.”

A woman of approximately forty-five in yoga pants and a tight-fitting top pushed open the swinging half doors leading to a smallish lunchroom with a fridge, sink, and hand-me-down chrome kitchen table. Lori spotted the blonde woman with the short hair and felt the tension in Donna’s fingers.

The woman said, “Here, I’ve got these for you. Give them a try.” She walked over to a woman with tin foil in her hair, handing her a black wrist strap. The customer sat on a black faux-leather couch, reading a magazine.

“Who’s that?” Lori used a volume and a tone only Donna would be able to hear.

“Cori. A stylist. She sells magnetic bracelets and anklets on the side.”

Lori heard the dismissal in Donna’s tone. “What’s your mom like?”

“Cool.”

“You’re lucky. Mine was a manipulative, psychotic, self-centred narcissist.” Lori watched Donna looking across the salon where Cori watched herself in the mirror as she styled the client’s hair.

Donna began adding layers of silver paper to Lori’s hair. Donna said, “There’s a lot of that going around.”

That began a fifteen-minute discussion of mothers. They laughed at a few of Lori’s funny stories and more of Donna’s.

Donna finished up with the colour. The chemical stink of it caught at the back of Lori’s throat. Donna reached for a timer and set it. “You want coffee or tea while we wait for the colour?”

“Tea, please.” Lori sat down on the black couch where she had a good view of Cori’s chair.

“How do you take it?” Donna asked.

“Just tea, please.” Lori picked up a magazine, sitting back, pretending to flip through it while observing Cori.

A boy of fifteen or sixteen with black hair, tight jeans, and a blue smock set three folded towels down on the countertop. Cori looked at the towels, reaching over and patting him on the cheek. “Thank you, Robert. You’re a doll.”

Robert’s face turned red. He retreated to a back room.

Cori turned to her client. “You should try that sometime. Young bucks like Robert have endurance.” She smiled, beginning to take the silver paper out of her client’s hair.

Robert’s younger than my son! Lori thought.

Cori’s client was a woman between fifty-five and sixty with blonde hair, weighing maybe one hundred thirty pounds. She asked, “What does Andrew have to say about that?”

Cori stopped, smiling at the woman in the mirror. “We have an agreement. I go along with his excursions, and he allows me my diversions.”

Donna’s timer began to ding. She hustled over, took the silver paper from Lori’s hair, then guided her to the sink. Lori sat back. Donna used warm water to wash her hair. Donna’s fingers worked their way around Lori’s scalp. She began to relax as the scalp massage did its magic. When Donna finished, Lori opened her eyes. “Would you teach my husband how to do that? He thinks that foreplay is something hockey players do at the other end of the rink.”

Donna laughed while wrapping Lori’s hair in a towel. “Let’s get you trimmed. And after I get you looking your best, maybe you’ll get some.”

Lori saw Cori was moving to the front of the salon. “Sounds like she’s looking to get some from Robert. That kid is younger than my son.”

“And two years older than my eldest boy. I brought my son here once. Never again.” Donna sat Lori down in the chair, removing the towel. She began to trim Lori’s hair. “That chick is always after something.”

“On the prowl?” Lori watched as Donna’s scissors snipped here and there.

“Let’s just say I wouldn’t want her around my boys. There’s something really twisted about her.” Donna looked at Lori in the mirror. “Her husband is a professor at the university. She manages to mention he’s a PhD in almost every conversation, that he went to Queen’s, was a student in her dance class, and he’s almost ten years younger than she is.”

“How old is she?” Lori watched Cori as she talked with Robert at the front of the store.

“Mid-forties. Travels to all of the hot spots. Has a loyal troop of customers who like to hear about her exploits. Most of them are women whose husbands have done well.” Donna reached for the hairdryer.

Lori watched as Cori walked back through the salon, making her way to the washroom.

Donna finished with the dryer and brush, removing the black cape. “Happy?”

Lori looked at the way Donna had framed her face. John had better notice the new style if he knows what’s good for him. She nodded. “I like it.”

Donna smiled, handing Lori a card. “I’m opening my own shop in about six weeks. Call me if you want to set up another appointment.”

Lori took the card, stashing it in her purse. She stood up. “Moving on?”

“Something like that.” Donna looked at Lori, dropping her volume. “Four months here convinced me to have a shop built in my house. It’s more than halfway done.”

Go for it. Lori nodded in Cori’s direction. “Can’t stomach that one going after boys the same age as your son?” She reached into her purse for her wallet.

“Pretty much.”

Nigel drove them north along Macleod Trail. Traffic was gathering itself, building up to rush-hour intensity. Lori sat in the back seat of the Chev. “So, I would say Cori is a suspect and Donna is not. She senses something is wrong in the salon, sees Cori as the source of it, and is getting out of there.” She leaned over to check herself in Nigel’s rear-view mirror. “John better notice the new hair or he’ll be sleeping on the floor with the dog.”

Lane asked, “You’re happy with it?” If Donna made a mess of Lori’s hair, I’ll never hear the end of it.

“She’s very good. I’ve been looking for a new hairdresser, and I think I’ve found her.” Lori looked up at the driver of the pickup next to them. “You know what they say about big twucks?”

“What do they say?” Nigel took his foot off the brake as the light turned green.

“Teeny tiny tallywackers. Speaking of tallywackers, Cori appears to prefer hers young – early teens, in fact. I would call her a predator. She did say something rather unusual as well. Let me see if I can recall the exact words.” Lori looked left at Chinook Mall as they passed it. “Sure you guys don’t want to take me shopping too? I’ll buy the coffee.”

Lane looked at Nigel, who raised his eyebrows.

“I remember now. Cori said, ‘I go along on his excursions and he allows me my diversions.’ It was the way she said it that kind of stuck with me. Like she had some big secret and was telling only a bit of the story.” She tapped Nigel on the shoulder. “Home, Mr. Li.”

An hour later, Lane and Nigel sat looking at the wide screen on Lane’s desk.

Nigel said, “I thought I was on to a pair of suspects after checking the passenger lists. They were on two of the flights around the time of the murders in Toronto and New York. The problem is the IDs are bogus.”

“Do you have the names?”

“Karly A. Williams and Clayton Olson.”

Lane frowned. What is it about that name?

Nigel looked at Lane. “I’ve been thinking about it for the last couple of hours. Do you see it?”

“The Olson is obvious. What about hers?”

“Karly A. as in Karla Homolka and Williams as in Colonel Russell Williams.”

“Shit.” Lane entered the names on his diagram.

“Exactly.” Nigel rubbed his forehead. “What’s our next move?”

Lane looked out the window of the LRT car. It rocked from side to side. The wheels hummed as they rolled above the Bow River. The ice on the river wore a fresh coat of snow, softening the rough edges of ice packed up along either side of the river. It had been left there after an early January chinook bathed the city in warm winds and the resultant melt. An overnight drop to minus twenty-five left the middle of the river open in a few places where steam rose into the night. He studied the houses and apartments on the right. In front of one building, a barge of a sedan wore a knitted car cover topped with a red pompom. He smiled.

His phone rang, and he reached for it.

“Where are you?” Matt’s voice carried an air of authority.

“On the LRT.”

“Where?”

Lane looked out the window at the lights of the Alberta College of Art and Design, a brick building next to an approaching train platform. “ACAD.”

“I’ll pick you up at Brentwood.”

Lane heard and felt the train began to slow. “Which side?”

“The Co-Op side. I’m on my way.” Matt ended the conversation and was waiting in the BMW as Lane came down the stairs after crossing the pedestrian bridge over Crowchild Trail. The January wind stung his face as he opened the passenger door and climbed in. He closed the door, feeling the warmth of the heated seat.

“We need another car.” Matt pointed over his shoulder at the empty car seat in the back. “I’ve been driving all over the place. Christine decided she wanted to get out of the house. And Arthur wants to buy some stuff for the baby. Naturally, everyone wanted to come along.”

“Where’s Alex?” Lane did up his seat belt while they waited at a stoplight.

Matt blushed. “At the mall. Indiana has four bodyguards.”

The entourage surrounded Indiana when Lane and Matt found the five having something to eat at the food court in Market Mall. Christine was wearing black pants and a blue sweater. He noted the admiring glances from a table of nearby teenaged boys who looked from Christine to Alex and back again. Then he saw Christine and Dan’s eyes constantly monitoring the crowd. A passerby came within a metre of the baby stroller. Christine placed both of her hands on the stroller’s handle, and Dan stood. The passerby passed on by. Dan sat. Lane thought, Alison, you nasty, self-important, self-righteous zealot. He said, “Anyone else want a coffee?”

“I win!” Dan threw his arms in the air.

Arthur smiled. “We had a bet going on about how long it would take before you wanted a coffee.”

“I’d like a hot drink.” Alex said.

Lane smiled, seeing Alex in a fleece bomber jacket zipped to the chin and leaning into Matt sitting next to her. “Warm me up.” Then she looked at Lane. “Tea, please.”

Lane walked over to the coffee shop, placed the orders, paid, and waited while he inhaled the aromas from the espresso machine. He looked around at the others waiting for coffee, fixing coffee, paying for coffee. A woman had her purse open, her change purse and a credit card in her left hand. Her left thumb held a Canadian passport against the change purse. Lane thought about another case.

When he returned and distributed the three drinks, Arthur asked, “What?”

Lane looked at Arthur, who held Indiana. The baby seemed content to doze in the crook of his partner’s arm. “What are you asking?”

Arthur used his free hand to point at Lane. “You’ve got that look on your face. Either you’ve got indigestion or you’ve had some kind of epiphany about your case.”

Matt said, “Looks like gas to me.”

Dan said, “Or he’s had one too many coffees.”

Christine said, “He’s always had one too many coffees!”

Alex asked, “You’re on a case?”

That’s when the laughter began. Then Indiana woke up and started to cry, setting off a flurry of activity around him.

“What’s going on here?” Arthur wore his glasses, sitting up in bed with a book on his lap.

“Could you be a bit more specific?” Lane lifted the covers, sliding in on his side of the bed.

“Matt and Alex went to a movie.” Arthur took his glasses off.

“Yes. The baby is asleep, and Christine and Dan are as well.” Where is this going?

“I’m worried about Matt, and I’m worried about what will happen when Alison gets out of jail.”

“She could get six months or she could get ten years.”

Arthur stuffed a bookmark in the novel. “Or she could get nothing.”

Lane shrugged. “That’s out of our hands – unless of course we’re called to testify.”

“So we just sit and wait?”

“We can’t very well tell Matt and Alex not to be attracted to each other. And we can’t control what my sister will do. I suspect she’ll open her mouth and dig herself into a deeper hole in court, but that’s really up to her. So all we can do is pick up the pieces when Alex goes home. In the meantime, the five of us will all keep Indy safe.” Lane looked at the ceiling.

Arthur smiled. “Who knew breeders lived such complicated lives?”

Lane laughed.

Arthur began to chuckle. “I mean Alison fucks up her own life, and she’s determined to do the same to Christine. Then Lola tries to turn Christine white so she’ll be more acceptable to her country club friends. Now Matt is snuggling up to his cousin’s sister. Sometimes I feel like we’re preparing a real-life reality show!”

“You know this case Nigel and I are working on?”

Arthur turned to face his partner.

“A person of interest is a forty-five-year-old hairdresser who likes boys in their early teens.”

“Kind of ironic when you think about it.”

Lane looked at Arthur. “What do you mean?”

“Some people think we’re abnormal.”