Indiana Pulcinella

TUESDAY, JANUARY 28
chapter 9

Accused Child Abductors Remanded

Efram Milton, Alison Milton, and Lyle Pratt of Paradise, Alberta, will remain in custody until their trial dates. The three members of a polygamist community are accused of attempting to abduct an infant from the Neo-natal Intensive Care Unit at the Foothills Medical Centre. The judge agreed with the Crown Prosecutor Lilian Choi that the three pose a flight risk.

Choi said, “The accused planned to take the infant across the border and into the United States.”

“I have an idea for our next move,” Lane said as Nigel came into the office and hung up his winter jacket behind the door.

“I’m listening as long as it doesn’t involve sending Lori back to the hair salon.” Nigel sat down at his desk, rubbing his hands together, then cupping them over a pair of red ears.

“We need the driver’s licence photos of Cori Pierce and her husband.” Lane tapped his mouse, the fan whirring as the computer woke up.

“What for?” Nigel reached for his mouse and typed in a password.

“First we need to put them up on this page next to Peggy Carr.” Lane pointed at the screen.

“Just a second.” Nigel tapped his keys. “One photo is on its way. Here comes the other.”

Lane downloaded the photos and put them on the screen. “We’ve got three suspects. We’ve seen two. Now let’s take a look at Dr. Andrew Pierce.”

“Before we go there, we need to work out some details.” Nigel picked up a file from his desk.

“Like what?” Nigel’s enjoying this.

“We need to know who we should concentrate on. These killers – and it looks like there are two – are certain to kill again.”

“I was thinking that they probably have false passports but their credit cards may be legit. They might have made a mistake there. The way Lori described her, Cori strikes me as a person who likes to enjoy the spoils.” Lane looked at Cori’s picture on the screen.

“And I know someone who can check on that. There will be no way the Pierces will know they are suspects.”

Lane said, “We risk tainting the evidence. We can’t take that risk if they walk because of it.”

“It’s just a way to check and see if they used their credit cards while they were in New York, Toronto, or Playa del Carmen at the time of the other murders. If we can confirm they were there, and they travelled under different names, then we will have a pretty good idea they are the ones we should be watching.”

“How are you going to do this?” Lane watched Nigel flip a pencil back and forth across the knuckles of his right hand.

“I have a friend. I’ve known her since high school. She’s very good and very discreet. That’s all you need to know.”

Lane lifted his eyebrows, looking at his partner.

“She got suspended from school for hacking into the school board’s computer system. She still believes she was being unfairly treated by a teacher who we all knew was a misogynistic prick, but the administration wouldn’t take her complaint seriously. So she got their attention. She has a very highly developed sense of right and wrong, and she sticks strictly to her laws of fairness. She did wonderful work on various websites to promote awareness on a wide range of social and environmental issues, but wouldn’t hand them in for marks. She believed it was about educating people about the issues rather than self-interest. After my mom was killed, she helped me track down the assets my father hid. She did it because she believed it was the right thing to do.”

Lane held up his hand. “Where do we meet her?”

“We don’t.” Nigel pointed at Lane. “I do.” He pointed at his chest.

Lane frowned. “I need to take a look at Dr. Pierce anyway.”

Nigel looked at his partner. “I’ve got his teaching schedule.”

“How did you get that?”

Nigel rolled his eyes.

“Okay. Just don’t jeopardize the investigation.”

Nigel frowned. “You don’t trust me?”

Lane opened his mouth to reply. What can you say about that without putting your foot in your mouth?

Nigel got up, grabbing his coat. “Make sure you change your clothes if you decide to go to Pierce’s afternoon lecture. Maybe take a backpack and a computer to hide behind. There are one hundred thirty-two students registered in the session. Sit at the back and keep a low profile.” He put on his coat and left.

Nigel stepped between the sliding glass doors at the Nose Hill Public Library with its red brick and ample glass. He was warmed by a blast of air, unzipping his jacket before stepping inside of the library proper.

It took a minute to find Anna at the back, sitting in a chair with a laptop on her knees. She kept her blonde hair cut short, weighed about one hundred twenty-five pounds, stood about five ten, and appeared to be an island of tranquility within the bustle of the library.

Nigel took off his coat and sat across from her. He noted the pink hand-knit mittens and toque sitting on the table next to her. She wore a pair of blue overall-style ski pants and a pink knitted sweater. He sat there for five minutes as her fingers tapped on the keyboard. He wondered about the VENEER & PLASTIC, PLASTIC & VENEER label on the back cover of her screen. She stopped, looking up. “What’s up, Nelly?”

That’s the way it always is with her. Ever since she found out my middle name is Evan and my initials are NEL, she calls me Nelly. To her, the joke never gets old. “Things are good, Anna. How are you?”

She looked at his hands. “You’re still boxing.”

He nodded.

“The risk of brain injury is substantial.”

He nodded again.

“Stop.”

“I need your help with a problem.” Nigel leaned forward in his chair.

“Yes.” Anna studied him.

“I have copies of five IDs. I need to know if any of them used a credit card near any of these three locations during specific time frames.” Nigel reached into the pocket of his winter jacket, pulling out three sheets of paper.

Anna took the papers, looking at each one. “Why?”

“I need to know if we’re looking at the right people.”

Anna nodded. “Bad people?”

Nigel raised his eyebrows and his shoulders.

“Well?”

“They may be very bad people. You need to be very discreet.”

Anna nodded, stood up, and closed her laptop, slipping it into its pink sleeve, tucking the sleeve into her backpack, and pulling on a red winter jacket. “I’m going home now. I’ll phone.” She picked up her mitts and toque, then walked away.

Lane picked up a coffee at a kiosk on the foyer on the main floor of the University of Calgary’s Education Classroom Block. The architecture had a dark, mid-last-century feel. He watched young people walk past or around him without taking much notice. They look so young! He caught the scent of a citrus perfume, then the stronger scent of cologne. It tickled his nose, and he sneezed into the crook of his elbow.

For an instant there was quiet. People turned, noticing him in his open-necked blue shirt and black pants. Then their eyes glazed over and they turned away. Except for one young woman, who smiled. “Bless you. You’re Christine’s uncle.”

He smiled, winking, putting his finger to his lips. She nodded, looking away. He hefted a green backpack he’d borrowed from Matt. Inside was an iPad borrowed from Dan, and a notebook and pencil he’d grabbed from his desk at work.

Lane saw a pair of young women open the door to the lecture theatre and followed them inside. He found himself at the top of steps leading to a stage and lectern. The room was brightly lit. The pair ahead of him stepped down to a middle row, sidling left to sit dead centre in the room. They’re going to be right at Dr. Pierce’s eye level. He moved left, choosing a seat in the back row behind a guy wearing a football jacket and built like Lane’s stainless-steel fridge.

More people arrived and began to fill up the theatre. Lane took off his jacket, hung it on the back of his chair, and reached into the backpack for the iPad and notebook. He opened the notebook, propped up the iPad, and used the pencil to doodle ideas. From time to time he’d glance up at the clock as the theatre gradually filled. He began to shift in his seat. I don’t know if I can sit here for ninety minutes.

On his right, a woman of Christine’s age with long black hair took off her full-length black wool coat, smiling at him, then pointing at the chair between them. “Mind if I put my coat there?”

Lane nodded, smiling back. “Of course not.”

“Thanks.”

A tall, lanky blond-haired man of about thirty-five entered from a door at stage right. He wore a green-and-white checked shirt, tight-fitting dark-grey slacks, and brown leather shoes. He stood behind the lectern, opened a textbook, leaned to one side to turn on the microphone, tapped it, and began to speak. “Today I’ll begin with a personal story, and then we’ll get to work on the characteristics of bullying.

“When I was nineteen, I went into a bar in Macklin, Saskatchewan. Half an hour later a woman picked me up off the gravel in the parking lot, took me home in her Buick, and cleaned up the cuts on my face and knuckles. I remember she put a butterfly bandage here -” he pointed at his forehead “- as she told me, ‘You did a dance with those two guys. A dance that meant the moment you walked in the door I knew you would end up in the parking lot with a face like this.’ She was doing her doctoral research on aggressive human behaviours. I -” he pointed at his chest “- became a chapter in her dissertation.”

He pressed a button. The screen behind him lit up. The cover of a book appeared. The title Unraveling the Human Puzzle was set above a picture of a group of human silhouettes with drinks in their hands. The black silhouettes were overlaid with white puzzle piece designs. Across the bottom of the page ran Dr. Andrew Pierce, PhD.

“Bullies and their prey do a kind of dance.”

From the right, a hand went up. Lane spotted the back and shoulders of a man of about forty whose black hair was thin on top and grey at the sides. Lane watched Pierce, who smirked as he acknowledged the man by holding out his hand for him to speak.

The man pointed his finger at the screen. “I read the chapter, and in it you say the victim only has to realize he or she can stop the behaviours triggering the bully’s actions. Isn’t that a bit like blaming the victim?”

Pierce looked at the pair of young women sitting at his eye level in the centre of the room. A brief smile appeared and disappeared. He lifted his eyebrows. “All the victim need do is recognize the signs, as I needed to do before I went into the bar in Macklin and as you -” He turned to face the man who’d asked the question.

Through the microphone, Lane could hear every nuance in the professor’s voice. It’s filled with contempt.

“- need to learn. There is a dance humans do to establish a hierarchy, and you need to learn your place within the hierarchy.”

One of the young women sitting in front of the professor began to laugh, covering her mouth with her hand and leaning closer to her friend. She talked behind her hand.

A broad smile profiled Pierce’s whitened teeth. “Even Darwin knew that natural selection favours those at the top of the food chain rather than those at the bottom.”

The ears of the man who’d asked the question turned red. Then his scalp did the same.

Lane watched the professor through narrowing eyes. He felt an inexplicable rage building. Tears formed in his eyes. He wiped at them with the index and fore fingers of his right hand. What the hell is my problem?

The young woman sitting next to him handed him a tissue. She leaned in close. “Pierce is such a douche.”

An hour later, when Lane left the theatre, he checked his phone for messages and found one from Arthur.

“What?” Nigel sat across from Lane in their downtown office. The door was closed, and Lane was staring at his computer screen.

Lane shook his head. “When will your contact have the information?”

“When she’s done.”

Lane turned to his partner. The aftermath of rage was still in his eyes. He’d been unable to walk it off after the twenty-minute trek to where he’d parked the car. Even the minus twenty temperature and a brisk wind out of the north had failed to cool his anger to the point where he could think clearly.

Nigel’s eyes opened wider. He held his hands up in mock surrender. “That’s just the way she works. She’s done when she’s done. She lives in the basement suite of her house. Her parents live upstairs. Her mom likes to keep an eye on her.”

“Her house! How does she make a living?” Don’t take it out on Nigel. He’s done nothing wrong.

“Look.” Nigel leaned forward in his chair, still holding his hands up. “I don’t know. She always has the latest computer, cell phone, and iPad. She’s a Mac user. Won’t use anything else. She always looks well groomed. She never appears interested in the opposite sex – or the same sex, for that matter. She’s totally self-contained and has this compulsion to make the world a better place. I knew her when I went to junior high, but we became friends after my mom was killed. She didn’t ask any questions and didn’t feel sorry for me. Then she got suspended for a week. When she came back, I treated her the same way I always had. We just became friends. We hung out together. She helped me out with some stuff. What’s got you so pissed off anyway?”

“Pierce.” Lane looked at the big screen and grabbed the mouse, highlighting the professor’s name, then enlarging his driver’s licence photo. “And my sister.”

“What did Pierce do?”

Lane took a long slow breath. “He was giving a lecture on the dynamics of bullying. This guy asked a question Pierce didn’t like, so Pierce belittled the guy in front of the class.”

“That’s all?” Nigel looked sideways at Lane.

Lane looked at Nigel, and his partner paled. “It was the way he did it. I can’t explain it. He’s giving a lecture to young people who will be teachers, and at the same time he’s bullying one of his students. It was the voice he used. The way he did it to impress a couple of the young women in class. The way some of them laughed. It was…”

“Fucked up.”

Lane almost laughed. “What’s a douche?”

“What?”

“Douche. The young woman next to me called Pierce a douche. What is it?”

“Someone who comes across being all cool and tailor made, but is a real self-centred asshole underneath.”

“Tailor made. That’s it. All of his clothes were tailor made. Even his shoes. How could he afford all of that? I mean, professors aren’t paid that well.” Lane looked at his partner.

“And what about your sister?”

“She’s back, and now she’s got some money behind her. Some organization called the Canadian Celestial Institute. I know she’ll use any means possible to punish Christine. She’ll do whatever she thinks is necessary to take Indiana away.” Lane looked back at the screen, shaking his head. “And I can’t do a damn thing about it because Alison thinks she has God on her side.”

But I can stop her. Nigel stood up. “It’s quittin’ time.”

Lane nodded. “Okay.”

Nigel handed Lane his jacket. Lane took it, walking out the door. Nigel hung back. “See you tomorrow.” He waited until Lane was out of sight, then took out his phone and typed a text message. “We need another meet.”

Anna was waiting for him at eight thirty. She sat in the same chair at the Nose Hill Public Library. She was tapping the screen of her iPad with the forefinger of her right hand. Beside her, the pink tablet cover had VENEER & PLASTIC, PLASTIC & VENEER written across it.

Nigel stood beside her.

Without looking up, she said, “I planned on doing the job later tonight.”

“I have another job for you. Remember how you got twenty percent for finding and transferring the funds my dad hid?” Nigel asked.

Anna nodded.

“I need you to transfer some money. This time, you do what you want with it. Just get it out of the hands of the people who have it.”

“I need a reason.”

“They’re trying to take a baby away from his mother.”

“What’s the mother like?” Anna asked.

“She’s the niece of a friend. She’s African Canadian. The people who want the baby think my friend’s a bad influence because he’s gay.”

“Is he?”

“Is he what?”

“A bad influence?”

“Just the opposite.”

Anna nodded. “Got the information?”

Nigel handed her a sheet of paper. Anna took it, reading the details. “I’ll work on it.” She slid the iPad in its cover.

He pointed at the words written across the pink. “What’s that mean?”

She smiled. “You’ll figure it out.” Anna pulled on her jacket, wrapped a scarf around her neck, and walked toward the door.

Lane sat in the family room in one of the easy chairs. Dan sat next to Christine on the couch while she fed Indiana. Alex sat on the hearth with her back to the gas fireplace. Matt sat nearby. Arthur nestled in another easy chair. He was trying to watch celebrities dance, but Christine insisted the sound be muted. Alex pointed at the screen, putting her hand over her mouth. A blonde-haired celebrity dancer had a blacked-out breast. It had popped out of her low-cut sequined costume.

Dan said, “I hope her partner doesn’t get hit by that thing. It could be a career ender.”

Christine elbowed him.

“Ouch.” Dan rubbed his ribs.

“Why don’t you two go out now, and we’ll watch Indiana?” Alex had her hands tucked around her elbows.

Christine shook her head. “I’m not leaving him alone.”

Lane looked at Arthur, who was watching Christine intently.

Matt asked, “You think we won’t take good care of him?”

Dan looked at Christine, who was staring at Indiana. “That’s not it at all. We got news today. Alison is getting financial support from some organization so she can hire a lawyer and try to take Indy.”

Lane watched Christine holding her son. Damn it, Alison. Don’t you know you’re pushing her away rather than bringing her closer?