Queen's Park

Wednesday, August 2
CHAPTER 15

“What, exactly, is bothering you about the Swatsky case?” Arthur said. He bent to hook fingers around Riley’s collar.

Lane had spent most of his day off sorting through the details of the case in his mind. Finally, after a supper of silence, Arthur had insisted they take Riley for a walk.

Lane looked across the prairie grass bearding Nose Hill. Below, in the river valley, Bankers Hall and Petro-Canada skyscrapers stuck their long noses out of the urban forest. To the west were the newer houses, where the land was mostly stripped of trees and the Rocky Mountains formed a backdrop. Soon, the peaks would be silhouetted by the sun.

Riley galloped away with glowing coat and tail held high.

Lane wore running shoes, shorts and T-shirt. He felt free of the tiny prison the tie and pistol imposed upon him during work days. He smiled at the simple pleasure of an evening where the air was warm at sunset.

“Something is out of place?” Arthur said.

“It’s too much of a coincidence. Ernesto at the airport on the same day Swatsky’s car was found.”

“What else?” Arthur said.

“He’s a great cook.”

“So?”

“The old guy’s a real charmer. It’s hard to imagine him as a killer,” Lane said.

Riley barked and headed for deeper grass where only his tail was visible.

“A better cook than me?” Arthur pulled sweaty cotton away from his belly.

“No, but he needs a shrink and you think I need one too.”

Arthur ignored the sarcasm, “You like him?”

“Yes and he knows more than he’s telling.”

“You think he’s got something to do with Swatsky’s disappearance?” Arthur said.

“Will you let me finish a thought?”

Arthur put his palm over his mouth till only eyes and nose were visible.

“He’s so damned nice, and… ” Lane watched Arthur remove his hand from his mouth.

“And?”

“And innocent.”

“Of the crime?” Arthur said.

Lane shrugged and looked to see what Riley was up to. The dog pranced through the shorter grass with his nose low to the ground.

“The old woman called Ernesto a pervert. That hit a nerve?”

“Yes, but that’s not the only reason,” Lane said.

Arthur waited.

“You know what I’m talking about. He’s so lonely he gets himself a doll. He’s not hurting anyone. Someone labels him a pervert. Sound familiar?”

Arthur said, “Of course.”

“Maybe getting a love doll is not what it appears to be. Maybe its got nothing to do with sex. Maybe it’s just about being lonely.”

“Maybe it’s more,” Arthur said.

“You don’t understand.”

Arthur said, “She’s real to him?”

“Sometimes I think she is.”

“That’s what I mean.”

Lane said, “I don’t know. You know, after the real Helen died, he said he got a job at the cemetery just so he could be close to her.”

“Really,” Arthur said.

“Said it was the only way they could be together and he could still take care of their son.” Riley barked. Lane turned his head. “Sounds like he’s found something.”

“The cemetery angle might be worth looking into.”

Riley’s bark became a series of excited cries.

“What do you mean?” Lane said.

“Which cemetery did he work at?” Arthur said.

“Queen’s Park.”

“Isn’t that on the way to the airport?”

Riley yelped. The men turned. The dog’s cry was filled with anger and pain. His tail was tucked between his legs.

“Riley!” Lane ran.

“What’s wrong?” Arthur followed.

Arthur tripped and fell.

“Riley!” Lane skidded to a stop.

Arthur arrived seconds later.

Riley had grown a beard; a circle of bristles around his muzzle. A few quills sprouted from the black of his nose.

“Jesus!” Lane went to touch the quills and pulled his hand away. “Porcupine. Where the hell is it?”

“Don’t know.”

Riley pawed at the quills and yelped.

“We’ve got to get him to the vet!” Arthur wiped at tears.

Lane reached under Riley’s neck with his right arm and tucked his other arm behind the retriever’s rear legs.

By the time they reached the Jeep, Lane’s arms, back and legs were one solid ache. A mixture of rage and desperation drove him forward.

It took 20 minutes to reach the clinic with Arthur sitting in the back seat holding Riley’s head in his lap.

Arthur held open the door. Lane carried the dog inside the vet’s office. The receptionist took a quick look and pointed to an open door. Lane found an examination table and eased Riley onto it. He put his hands on the retriever’s front paws. “Got to keep you from touching those quills. Only pushes them further in.”

“Think he’ll be okay?” Arthur said.

“Hope so.”

“Let’s see what we’ve got here.” The Doctor stepped in the back door. She wore a white smock, blue jeans, a southern US accent and close cut grey hair.

“Riley ran into a porcupine. It was a bit of a shock.” Arthur nodded in Lane’s direction.

The Vet moved in between the men and leaned over the dog. “Hey there Riley.” She scratched him behind the ear. In a voice full of good humour she asked, “Is he a biter?”

“No,” Lane said.

“Well, Riley ol’ boy we’d better get busy. This’ll take a while. Rose, I need a tray!”

“Comin’ up,” the receptionist said.

“How many times did he go after the porcupine?” said the Vet.

“We never saw it,” Arthur said.

“If we had, there’d be one less porcupine,” Lane said.

The Vet said, “Porcupine’s don’t go lookin’ for trouble. Better ask yourself if it was just defending itself.”

Lane was about to reply when questions about Riley and Ernie coalesced into one answer and he said, “I’ll be damned.”