Indiana Pulcinella

TUESDAY, JANUARY 21
chapter 2

“I phoned Alexandra. One of us will need to pick her up at the airport,” Arthur said as Lane parked in the Foothills Medical Centre parking lot. “Christine really needs her sister with her.”

Five minutes later, they stepped onto the elevator. Lane looked at Arthur while waiting for the door to close. Arthur’s thinner face and hair made him appear younger. He smiled as he felt Lane’s eyes on him.

Daniel’s mother Lola led her husband John into the elevator. The brown-haired woman wore a pantsuit, a tasteful set of white pearls, a full-length cashmere coat, freshly dyed hair, and a frown aimed at Lane and Arthur. She turned her back on them to face the elevator door as it closed. Her husband John – dressed by Lola – was in a suit and peacoat to complement but not compete with his wife’s outfit. He half-smiled at Lane and Arthur, turning his back when his wife took him by the elbow.

Lane watched the numbers light up above the door. Dan’s so different from his parents. Makes me wonder about genetic diversity. Then he smiled. Look at the family I came from.

Arthur elbowed Lane in the ribs.

The door opened to the fifth floor, Lola exited first. Her heels click-clicked on the linoleum. John followed, then Lane and Arthur.

Arthur hummed. “Whatever Lola wants, Lola gets.”

“You’re forgetting Christine is a force of nature.” Lane watched Lola and John as he pressed the button opening the electric doors to the ward. For a moment Lane was overcome by the desire to protect Christine and her baby. He began to move forward.

Arthur grabbed his arm. “Christine will ask for our help if she needs it. Let’s just sit in the waiting room for a minute.”

They sat in the chairs set along the hallway wall. As they got settled, Lane turned to observe the other family members waiting, sitting alongside and across. A grandmother with black hair wore an elaborate gold-and-bronze scarf. She stared at the metal doors. A man wearing a ball cap, a black leather jacket, and cowboy boots stared at his toes. His wife sat next to him reading a magazine.

“Stop that.” Arthur put his hand on Lane’s thigh.

Lane looked down to see his right knee bouncing.

The metal doors hummed open. Lane and Arthur turned when they heard the click-clicking of heels on the linoleum.

Lola swept through the opening. John ran to catch up.

“I was just explaining how she should breastfeed the child,” Lola said.

“I know.” John slowed to a fast walk.

“After all, I am a mother. I have considerable experience.” Lola spotted Lane and Arthur before looking away.

Lane thought, Didn’t you hire nannies to look after your daughter and son?

“She’s a new mother. And her baby is in NICU,” John said.

Lola stopped, facing her husband. “I hope you’re not justifying her behaviour. She asked us to leave!”

“Just trying to explain.” John took Lola by the elbow, heading for the elevator.

Lane and Arthur locked eyes as the sound of Lola’s heels receded down the hallway.

A few minutes later, the metal doors opened again. Dan walked through and spied Lane and Arthur. “Would you like to meet my son?”

They followed him down the hallway, then through the NICU doors. They found a red-eyed Christine holding the baby. His hair was thick and black, his eyes were closed, and an IV nestled in a vein in his forehead.

What is going on? Lane took a closer look at Christine. She wore a white housecoat. Her hair was tied back. Besides being exhausted, she looked defeated.

Dan said, “He’s on antibiotics to prevent infection.”

Arthur cupped his hand over the back of the baby’s head. Christine smiled.

“He’s beautiful,” Arthur said.

“We’ll probably be out in a few days,” Dan said.

He can’t stop talking, Lane thought.

Christine looked up at Lane. “Do you think I’ll be a good mom?”

Dan stood up. “My mother was just here.” He held his hands out with the palms up, shrugging.

“She said a good mother knows how to breastfeed instinctively,” Christine said.

Lane sat down next to Christine. She passed the baby over.

Lane felt the warm weight of the newborn, looked at the soft tan of his face.

“His name is Indiana,” Dan said.

Arthur said, “You know, I’ve been talking with Loraine and Lisa.” Loraine and Lisa, old friends of Lane and Arthur, had a son named Ben.

Christine leaned forward, focusing on Arthur.

Lane touched the delicate skin of Indiana’s cheek.

Arthur said, “They said it took a day or two for Ben to learn to latch on to the breast. That mother and son had to learn together.”

“Really?” Christine asked.

Arthur nodded.

Lane smiled at the baby.

Indiana farted.

Arthur smiled. “See? He’s already learning to communicate.”

Lane opened the passenger door of their BMW. It smelled of soft leather and new carpet. Arthur sat in the driver’s seat. “If Lola thinks she can treat Christine like that, it won’t only be Christine who’s giving her the boot. Kharra alhika! She struts around in her ‘look at me, notice me’ shoes with her whipped husband trotting along behind. She thinks being aggressive gets her what she wants, and we’ll all roll over like beaten dogs.”

Lane stepped out into the sharp bite of minus twenty air and closed the door quickly. He could hear Arthur swearing in Arabic over the sound of the heater fan and the engine as he walked behind the car. He crossed the street and walked up the ramp to the Crowfoot LRT station. At least he’s over being depressed. Now he’s ready to take on anyone and everyone. He walked along the bridge over Crowchild Trail. Below him a steady stream of traffic pushed through the heavy arctic air. Exhaust trailed in white plumes.

The north wind bit the back of his neck, and he pulled up the collar of his winter jacket. Ahead, the curved metal- and-glass station looked like the back end of an ocean wave. He stepped inside, bathed by a blast of warm air.

Twenty minutes later, he stepped off the LRT and walked across 7th Avenue, down the block into the teeth of the wind funneling between the buildings, and into the sand-coloured concrete building housing the Calgary Police Service.

He unzipped his jacket and took off his black cap.

Lori greeted him as he entered the office. She wore a red suit jacket, a white scarf and blouse, and black slacks. “How’s that new baby?”

He smiled. “Perfect. He’s got a head full of black hair. His skin is so soft.”

Lori said, “So he’s turned you into a real softy?”

Lane frowned. “I guess he has.”

“Don’t worry. It suits you.”

“What’s new around here?” Lane put his cap and gloves on the countertop, shucking off his winter jacket.

Lori leaned forward, dropping her voice to a whisper. “Fred Netsky has been wandering around trying to play the victim since the Chief gave you his old case. But so far, no one is biting. In fact, the others are beginning to avoid him. Looks like they’re adopting a wait-and-see policy since you’re the boss around here.”

Lane nodded. “Thanks.” Then he went inside his office, hanging his coat and hat behind the door. What was I doing when Byron Thomas was arrested?

Lane looked at the date on the file in front of him. That was at the height of Chief Smoke’s reign. I was persona non grata around here. The only person who would speak with me or make eye contact was Lori. Things sure have changed. Now the detectives answer to me.

He looked more closely at the file. The evidence was straightforward. Byron Thomas was found a couple of blocks from the scene. The victims’ blood was found in the treads of his right shoe. Jewellery from a separate robbery was in his pockets. His voice was a match to the 911 call made fifteen minutes earlier. After questioning, Byron confessed to the murders.

Lane read on, spotting an inconsistency in the times of death. The coroner’s report said the victims died at least four hours before Thomas’ 911 call.

Lori opened the door, looking at Nigel’s empty desk. “There’s a call for you. Someone claiming to be your sister. Says her name is Alison.”

Lane frowned, feeling his stomach begin a slow aerobatic manoeuvre. “Thanks for the heads up.”

Lori closed the door. A few seconds later his phone rang. He took a couple of slow breaths before picking it up.

“Paul?” Alison asked.

“How are you?” Lane asked.

“Is it true?” she asked.

She’s wound up tighter than last time she called. Was that three years ago, or four? “Is what true?” Lane asked.

“Did Christine have a baby boy?”

Lane heard the sarcasm in her tone. “Yes.”

“And you think I will allow you to turn my grandson gay?”

Lane wasn’t sure if he reacted to the sanctimony, the ignorance, or the sarcasm. He was sure he felt a breach in a dam holding back years of resentment at the way he’d been judged then abandoned by members of his family. Emotions began to overwhelm his self-control. He took a long breath to help him channel the overpowering emotions. “You mean the child of the daughter you abandoned?”

Alison inhaled sharply.

Go for it! “The daughter you excommunicated? If memory serves, you didn’t even bother to get out of the van. Wasn’t that visit squeezed in between trips to shopping malls?”

“YOU DARE JUDGE ME?”

Lane moved the phone away from his ear, but kept his mouth close. “How dare you call me with your phony concern for a grandson after you abandoned your daughter? How many years has it been?”

“It was for her own good. God spoke to me. He told me what needed to be done!”

Just another zealot, like John A. Jones, who blew himself up with his own bomb. “How can you say God told you it was for her own good?”

“Because God knows!” Alison said.

“God knows you abandoned your daughter. God knows you signed over legal guardianship to Arthur and me.” Why are you baiting her?

“God knows!” she said.

Enough of this. “What do you want?”

“My lawyer is going to take my grandchild away from you. The child needs protection from you and your Arthur.”

He heard her tone of triumph. “That’s funny, because you and your husband claimed you couldn’t afford to pay your legal bills when Paradise was investigated for polygamy and tax evasion. Were you lying for the Lord?”

“How did you know about that?” Alison said.

“The lying or the money?” Lane stared at the phone, feeling an overwhelming weariness.

“God knows that my grandson needs my protection!”

Give it a rest, Alison. “What is your grandson’s name?”

Another abrupt inhalation from Alison.

“Christine has just had a baby boy. If you threaten her or the child in any way, you will have to go through me first.”

“I have rights! I am the grandmother! I will get a lawyer!”

“Go ahead. Get a lawyer.” Lane waited for her reaction. Just hang up. No, you’ve got to let her focus her anger on you instead of Christine.

“I’m going to pray. God will tell me what to do.” Alison hung up.

Lane felt something akin to relief at finally saying what he’d wanted to say to his sister. Then he dialed the office of his lawyer, Tommy Pham.

“I don’t get it,” Lane said.

“What don’t you get?” Arthur sat across from him at their kitchen table. It was made of maple and had gathered an assortment of artifacts: an unused diaper, a letter addressed to Matt, a battery, a coffee cup, two light bulbs, three plates, a salad bowl.

The scent of salmon cooked with butter, maple syrup, and lemon juice filled the kitchen. Lane picked a piece of cucumber from the salad bowl, holding it in front of his mouth. “I don’t get the fact that I don’t hear from Alison for – what is it, three or four years? – and then she calls and goes crazy.”

“In Alison’s mind, Christine was supposed to be punished.” Arthur popped a forkful of salmon in his mouth. He looked at Sam, who sat next to him with an expression suggesting he hoped a morsel or two would come his way. Roz, their older dog, reclined on the throw rug in front of the sink.

“It’s crazy. The kid left Paradise. She was excommunicated. She’s supposed to be punished for the rest of her life?” Lane used a large spoon to put some salad on his plate.

“You’re supposed to be punished for the rest of your life.” Arthur covered his mouth, pointing his fork at his partner. “You were excommunicated from your family. You were supposed to be miserable without them. They probably expected you to have an epiphany and come back straight. You didn’t, so in their minds you continue to need to be punished. Why should Christine be any different?”

Lane shook his head. “This is fucked up.”

Arthur chuckled. “Now you get to see Indiana and Alison doesn’t. He’s her grandson, and you haven’t seen the light, changed your wicked lifestyle, left me. In her mind -” he pointed the fork at Lane and then at himself “- we’re the ones who’re fucked up.”

“But we’re no threat to anyone. Why is she so threatened?” Lane poured dressing on the fresh greens.

“There’s a new leader in Paradise. Your sister no longer has the influence she once had.”

Lane shrugged. “Who told you this?”

“Christine. She still talks with some of the people who live or once lived in Paradise. The power Alison used to have is fading. Apparently she married this new guy named Milton after the other guy died of a heart attack. The younger wives have Milton’s ear. Now Alison finds out she has a grandson she can’t see, and she’s angry at you because your life is better than hers.” Arthur put another forkful of salmon in his mouth.

Lane shook his head. It doesn’t make sense. It’s not going to make sense. You’re upset because it’s your sister, you came from the same parents, you grew up in the same house, and you still don’t understand the way she thinks. The situation is not going to change, so you might as well think about something else. “Where’s Matt?”

“He insisted on picking up Alex at the airport.”

“I forgot. Alex gets in at what time?” Lane thought about how Christine would react to the arrival of her half-sister who shared the same father.

“She landed about two hours ago.”

“Where are they?” Lane looked out the window, seeing a cloud of white rising from the chimney of the neighbour’s furnace.

Arthur shook his head. “Alex is an aunt for the first time.”

“They’re at the hospital.”

“And she’s catching up with her sister,” Arthur said.

“They won’t be home any time soon, then.”

“Exactly.”

The front door opened and winter air flowed down the stairs. Lane felt the cold lick his ankles as they watched TV. Something heavy thumped the floor above them.

“I forgot. This is Canada. I have to take my boots off at the front door.” The voice was female with a slight Boston accent.

“It’s Alex!” Arthur threw off his comforter, sitting up on the couch. Lane stood up.

Sam yawned. Roz barked. Arthur followed Lane to the foot of the stairs.

Alex stood at the top, put her hand on the railing, and stepped down.

She looks like a Cossack princess. She was wearing a full-length grey Russian military coat with a double row of polished gold buttons. On her head, she wore a round faux-fur hat.

Alex floated down the stairs then embraced each of them.

Lane caught the scent of Jean Patou’s Joy. Only the best for you, girl.

“Hold me close, boys, this girl hasn’t been warm since she left the States!” Alex undid her coat. Matt took it for her, waiting for the hat. Alex flipped her hat over her shoulder without a backward glance, stepping into the centre of the room. Lane watched Matt retreat upstairs to the closet with Alex’s coat and hat.

Alex sat down in front of the gas fireplace, gathering her black skirt and tucking it between her legs. “Who is this handsome fellow?” Alex pointed at Sam, who was rolling on his back, his front legs pawing the air, his rear legs splayed.

“That’s Sam.” Matt reached the bottom step, sitting in the chair next to Lane. Alex rubbed Sam under the chin.

“Sam!” Matt stood up.

“That boy’s got his lipstick out.” Alex pulled her hand away. Matt shooed Sam upstairs.

“Isn’t my nephew the most gorgeous little man you’ve ever seen in your life?” Alex spread her arms, her black hair backlit by the fire.

She could be Christine’s twin. Well, if Christine were as much of a dame as Alex.

“We think he’s perfect.” Arthur pointed at Lane and Matt.

“He is that.” Alex leaned back, closing her eyes.

Lane saw the way Matt watched Alex and was oblivious to all else. Oh no!