Indiana Pulcinella

FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 7
chapter 19

“Donna Liu called. She asked you to meet her at this address at eleven o’clock.” Lori leaned to one side of her computer so she could see him and held up a piece of paper.

Lane stopped, backtracked, picked up the piece of paper, and read the address. “It’s her house.”

“She said she’d be there at that time. Something about waiting for contactors, taking her son to the doctor, and going to the bank. It sounded like she was in a rush.”

Lane stepped into his office, spotted Nigel behind his computer. “Grab your coat. We gotta go.”

Five minutes later they drove past the Bow Tower, a blue glass building shaped like a wave with crisscrossing metal beams reaching over two hundred metres. It appeared to be tickling the belly of the chinook arch. The warm winds had turned snow, ice, sand, and salt into a kind of brown soup coating city roads and sidewalks.

“I need to let you know about a few things.” Nigel concentrated on the traffic, anticipating the movements of an SUV crabbing across three lanes of traffic. It hit a patch of brown snow. A brown wave of the soupy mixture hit their windshield. Nigel turned on the wipers.

Lane looked left at his partner. “All right.”

“I’ve know Anna for years. She was always kind of out there. We knew she was smart. She used to drive her parents and the teachers crazy, because she would never hand in any assignments. I asked her about it one time, and she told me handing stuff in for marks was against her ethics. Then she got into trouble because she thought a teacher was unfair to one of the kids in her class. Anna hacked into the system’s computers and changed the kid’s mark. One of the other kids found out and told someone. They caught Anna, and she was suspended for a week. She was our hero from then on. I went to her after my dad killed my mom, because I knew he’d hidden money away in various accounts. I didn’t want to live with my uncle and aunt, and I needed money. Anna agreed to get the money for me. We worked out a business arrangement. She got a percentage, and I got enough money to keep me going for at least fifteen years. After we graduated, we kept in touch.”

Lane looked down along 6th Avenue. “How did she graduate if she never handed anything in?”

Nigel smiled. “At the time, provincial exams counted for fifty percent of our grade twelve marks. She got one-hundred percent on every one of her exams.”

“She went to university?”

Nigel shook his head. “She went freelance. She tracks down information about various political and financial institutions. She calls it massaging investments. Prides herself with getting in and out without anyone being the wiser. Again, it’s all guided by her ethics.”

“What does that mean?”

“Let’s just say if the people who were screwed by Bernie Madoff and other Ponzi schemes hired her, they would be smiling today.”

“How smart is she?” Lane opened his jacket to cool off. He looked left, spotting a guy wearing shorts and a hoodie walking along the river pathway with a package in his arms.

“I don’t know the numbers, if that’s what you’re asking. All I know is she bought her house and lives in a suite in the basement in Brentwood. She has this strict routine she lives by, and does jobs for people who need their money traced. She always has meetings with clients at the public library near her house. To keep the library happy, she makes a sizable donation every year.”

Why are you telling me all of this? Lane looked at the river poking a mini-mountain range of ice up along the edge of the Bow.

“I’m telling you this because she traced proposed murder blogs back to Dr. Pierce’s personal computer. We can’t use the evidence, but now I’m sure we’re after the right pair.” Nigel glanced to his right to gauge Lane’s reaction.

Before you tell him it was wrong, remember how you never revealed what you know about Uncle Tran, and how it has benefitted victims, you, and your family for years. “Is Anna in danger? If she’s taking money away from ruthless people, they aren’t going to be happy about it.”

“I don’t think so. Anna is very good. She explained that Milton has over twenty million – well, now it’s down by five. She’s also going after the money the Pierces have stashed away.”

“What!?”

“Haven’t you been reading the paper? Donations have been made to the Children’s Hospital, the Red Cross…”

“Shit! It was you!”

“It was Anna. I told you, it’s an ethical thing with her. She researched Milton, who publicly claimed all of the money raised in Paradise goes to support his community. She traced several private accounts in his name where the money is stashed. Anna says he’s lying, she knows where the money is, he exploits the women and children in his community, and she’s going after what he values most. She’s getting ready to do the same with the killers. Keep watching the papers. In the next week or so you may see reports of more donations to various local charities.” Nigel eased into the left lane, putting his foot down on the accelerator as they climbed out of the river valley.

“It’s dangerous work.” Lane watched the LRT scoot up the hill alongside them.

“She says she’s very careful about being a ghost.”

“I’m talking about both of you.”

Nigel glanced at Lane as they crested the hill. “How so?”

“You’re walking a tightrope. Be careful which side you come down on.”

They travelled in silence along Bow Trail, past the golf course and condos, then up the hill into Cougar Ridge. They parked across the street from Donna’s two-storey home. The chinook had eaten away at the snowdrifts on either side of the driveway. Water dripped from the tips of snowdrifts hanging from the roof. It ran down the gutters and cascaded into storm sewers. Lane pulled the phone out of his pocket and saw it was five after eleven. A white SUV pulled up and parked in Donna’s driveway. She got out of the driver’s side and her son, still wearing a neck brace, climbed down out of the rear seat. Lane saw him turn his back on his mother and walk to the front door.

Donna shook her head. Her shoulders sagged. She stood in her black leather coat and black high-heeled boots watching him go.

Lane climbed out of the Chev, stepping through the slick crust of a snowdrift. He leaned on the side of the car as he walked around and onto the treacherous surface of melting ice and snow. Donna turned, saw the approaching detectives, and waited with her purse hung over her shoulder. The wind plucked the edges of her red skirt. She waved at them to follow as she walked around the side of the house and back to her shop. They waited as she reached inside of her purse, took out her keys, opened the door, and turned on the lights.

Lane closed the door behind them, standing next to Nigel on the carpet.

Donna dropped her purse onto one of the chairs, took off her coat, and hung it on the door leading to the rest of the house.

Lane noted the room was nearly completed. “How’s Hansen?”

“The doctor says he’s doing well and the brace can come off in a week.” She crossed her arms, shaking her head.

Lane waited.

Nigel asked, “What’s up?”

“Cori sold their Alpha Romeo. A guy came around to Platinum, gave her a wad of cash, and drove away. About an hour later, one of the teachers from the school down the road – the school where some of the work experience kids come from – came looking for Robert. I told her to go down the hall into the back. She went. We all watched the teacher stand at the washroom door. She got really red in the face when she heard what was going on. Then she started pounding on the door. Finally, Cori and Robert came out of the washroom. There was a big screaming match. The teacher took Robert away. And Cori, she came back into the salon and gave me this look. It’s hard to describe. The bitch gave me that high school look you get when one girl thinks you’re fucking her boyfriend.” Donna looked over her shoulder as a reflex, checking to see if her son was listening at the door. Instead they heard him clumping around upstairs. “I’m not going back to the shop. I told the contractor if he finishes this weekend I’ll pay extra.”

“What do you want us to do?” Lane asked.

Donna’s phone rang. She moved to her right, reaching into her purse. Lane caught a glimpse of an envelope, and the brown polymer sheen of hundred-dollar bills.

Donna pulled out her phone, closing the purse. She watched the detectives as she said, “Yes, we just got back from the doctor. He says Hansen is doing well. He’s still pissed because I won’t let him play hockey.” She listened then said, “They’re here right now.” She hung up. “My husband. He told me to call you. He thinks Cori and her husband are selling the cars so they can leave town. He thinks you need to know before someone else gets hurt.”

“What do you think?” Lane asked.

“I think Cori is one of those people who knows exactly how to get what she wants.” Donna looked past Lane at the primer on the walls. “I’ve got a customer coming in a few minutes.”

Lane took out his phone. “I want you to put my number on speed dial.”

Lori sat across from Lane and Nigel in their office. “McTavish phoned. He’s ready. He’ll have three of his crew down in the furnace room of the house tomorrow morning. They’re equipped to camp out for at least twenty-four hours. Phelps will work with the caterers. Harper is handling communications and logistics. He wants you and Nigel to freelance just in case something unexpected happens. Harper’s a little worried about the weather.” She wore a pair of tan slacks, her leather boots, and a pink blouse.

“What’s up with the weather?” Nigel asked.

Lane pointed his mouse at the weather icon. “Cold front moving in. A risk of freezing rain on Saturday.”

“Harper assigned you a Jeep so you can get around if the weather doesn’t cooperate.” Lori checked the item off her list.

“Anything else on that list, boss?” Nigel asked.

“Yes, it says here, ‘If Nigel is a pain in the ass then you have the authority to…’ ” Lori smiled.

Nigel exploded. “It doesn’t really say that!”

Lori handed him the list.

Nigel took a look, blushed, and handed the list back.

“He also told me to tell the pair of you he needs you to be sharp tomorrow. All of the angles are covered, and now you are to go home and get some rest.” Lori made an oversized check mark in the air above her list, stood up, and left the office.

“Sarah phoned me today.” Christine manoeuvred the oversized stroller over clear sidewalks, concrete covered in ice, residential streets covered in soup. Indiana was dressed in a sleeper, stuck in a poncho, and wrapped in a blanket. His eyes were just visible where the blue toque and scarf didn’t touch. They walked in winter coats and boots in the silvery half-light filtering through the thick layer of a chinook arch. Clear blue sky peeked out from under its western edge, revealing the tips of the Rocky Mountains.

Lane held Sam’s leash in his left hand. A grey squirrel bounded across the top of the snow’s hard crust in a neighbour’s front yard. It scampered up the trunk of a poplar tree. Sam hit the end of the leash. Lane’s left arm was nearly yanked out of its socket. Christine used her free hand to grab the leash. Sam danced on his rear legs.

Matt followed along behind with Dan, who said, “He likes cats and rabbits, too.”

After Sam settled down except for some heavy breathing, Christine said, “It was a really weird conversation. She asked if she could see Indy, then asked if we could take him to see my mom.”

Lane kept one eye out for squirrels and rabbits. The other eye watched for pickup trucks with men who looked like they were from Paradise. He leaned into the wind gusting at over thirty kilometres an hour. “You’re joking.”

Christine shook her head. “No, and Sarah sounded afraid.”

“How old is she?” Lane asked.

“Fourteen, I think.” Christine looked at her uncle. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking about twenty different things right now.” He looked over his shoulder to see if there was anyone behind Matt and Dan.

“Something big happening with the case?” Dan asked.

Lane nodded.

“You’ll be careful?” Christine asked.

Lane spotted a bearded neighbour being pulled along by a white-breasted boxer with a blue blanket over its back. There was tension in the leash as Sam began to pull.

“Is it the serial killer?” Matt asked.

The boxer planted its front feet, staring at Sam and beginning to growl.

Lane grabbed the leash with both hands the instant before Sam hit the end of the nylon webbing. The boxer began to bark. Sam howled and barked in reply. It was a sound Lane had never heard Sam make before, a sound of wild anger. Sam became seventy-five pounds of muscle and bone fighting to get at the boxer. Lane leaned back into the leash, then reached for Sam’s collar.

“What’s wrong with him?” Christine asked as Matt and Dan helped Lane pull the normally playful Sam back the way they’d come.

Matt said, “There’s something about that boxer that drives Sam crazy.”