Читать книгу Stonechild and Rouleau Mysteries 3-Book Bundle - Brenda Chapman - Страница 17

Saturday, December 24, 3:30 p.m.

The man who led Kala inside the two-storey detached house on Eisenhower Crescent in Chapman Mills was not the husband Kala would have picked for Susan Halliday. He was younger, for one thing, and definitely military. Susan had struck her as artsy and bohemian. A quick inventory of his physical appearance included hair so sharp a person would cut their hand if they grazed a palm across the bristles, square shoulders, and a wide stance. He was Mr. Poster Boy for the armed forces. She’d felt like saluting when he opened the door.

She paused inside the doorway to the living room and looked around. French doors led into a room dominated by windows on the north wall and a ceiling-high stone fireplace on the wall facing her. A white leather couch and three mismatched chairs encircled a glass coffee table. A faded Oriental area rug lay in front of the couch with brass floor lamps flanking either side. It was a functional room, empty of clutter. It was a precisely ordered room.

Susan and Clinton lived in the same new subdivision as Pauline Underwood but several streets over in a slightly older home closer to a river. The houses on this street were spaced farther apart than those on Haileybury and had altogether a nicer feel.

“Susan will be down momentarily,” Clinton said, directing her to the farthest chair near the windows. “Can I get you coffee, tea, or something stronger?”

“No, I’m fine thanks, but perhaps I could ask you a few questions while we wait for your wife.”

“Certainly madam.” He took a seat on the couch opposite her, his back rigid, arms folded across his chest.

Kala looked at him more closely. He couldn’t be more than fifty with what she could see of his hair in the brown buzz cut. She guessed late-forties. Susan had to be the other side of fifty-five. His blue eyes held no softness. Muscular arms bulged out of the sleeves of his T-shirt that stretched tightly over his flat stomach. The guy was a weapon dressed up in a man’s body. She shifted uncomfortably in what was surely the hardest chair in the room as his hard eyes flicked across her with just a trace of contempt. He’d picked this seat for her on purpose.

She took out her notepad and flipped to a clean page. “How well did you know Tom Underwood and his family?” She raised her eyes to meet his stare square on.

“I knew Tom through functions at his ex-wife’s home. Susan and Pauline have been friends since high school. They both grew up in the west end of Ottawa. Bayshore, to be exact.”

He’d managed to convey his distaste for her upbringing in the one word. Kala would ask around about Bayshore when she got back to the station.

“Do you know where Tom Underwood grew up?”

“He grew up in that neighbourhood. He and Pauline dated and married young.”

“So they were childhood sweethearts.”

“From what I understand.”

“Did Tom visit Pauline often after they divorced?”

“I wouldn’t know. I only met him at social functions, which usually involved their daughter Geraldine. Birthdays and the like. Susan would know more since she and Pauline are close as sisters.” He looked toward the doorway. “I’m sorry my wife is taking so long. She hasn’t been well this week. Some sort of flu that I’ve so far escaped.”

“And where did you grow up?”

“Does that have any bearing?”

“Maybe not. I’m just gathering background information.”

“Rockcliffe. My family was part owner of two pulp mills in the Gatineau. I went into the air force and have achieved the rank of major.”

Kala jotted the details onto her notepad. She might not have heard of Bayshore but she had heard of Rockcliffe. It was the rich end of town where the prime minister and Governor General lived.

They both turned as Susan walked into the room. Kala blinked. It was hard to believe this was the same rosy cheeked woman she’d seen only a few days before. Now, her skin was the colour of oatmeal and her eyes pools of exhaustion. She moved stiffly as if every bone in her body ached. When she stepped across the threshold, her eyes sought her husband’s, before she looked toward Kala.

“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. It took me a while to get dressed. Clinton?” She crossed the carpet toward her husband. “Did you offer our guest some coffee?”

“Of course. Sit here, Susan,” he commanded as he stood to give her his seat. He remained standing at attention next to her.

Kala would have preferred to speak to Susan in private, but she could see he had no intention of leaving them alone, and she didn’t have a good reason to ask him to leave. “I’m sorry you’ve been unwell. This shouldn’t take long. I need to know where you both were last Thursday evening and Friday. This is just a routine question,” she hastily added after Susan’s face paled even more.

The major answered for both of them. “Susan was home and I was overnight in Trenton. Air force business. I got back mid-morning on the Friday.”

“Did you meet anyone during that time, Susan?” Kala asked.

“No, I spent the night at home alone and did some Christmas baking in the morning before Clinton came home. I wanted to finish the shortbreads for a cookie exchange in the afternoon.”

“What can you tell me about Pauline’s relationship with her ex-husband?”

“With Tom?” Susan looked up at Clinton. “I’d say they were friendly but not true friends since their divorce. They knew each other a very long time. In fact, the three of us went to high school together. Pauline and I roomed together in university.”

“Did Pauline forgive Tom for leaving the marriage?”

“I suppose. Pauline knew Tom wasn’t happy with Laurel. I think she felt vindicated. Tom spent more time with Pauline this past year or so. I’d say their relationship had softened.”

“Is there anything you can tell me about his relationship with his children?” Kala asked.

“Well, Geraldine and Tom were very close. She adored him and he couldn’t say no to her. She was always awkward and self-conscious but Tom didn’t see any of that. He was proud of her. He couldn’t see how much pain she was in. The truth of it was that Geraldine had trouble making friends and was depressed all through her teen years.” Susan’s voice broke and she struggled to control her emotions. After a moment, she said, “I’m sorry. It’s just been a shock. Tom and Hunter weren’t close but it seems like they were starting to reconnect. We were hopeful, and now he’s dead.” Her voice trailed away.

“I know this is difficult,” said Kala gently. “It might help if you could tell me why Tom and Hunter were at odds.”

The major interrupted, “Again I must ask, is this of any value? A disagreement from so many years ago surely has no bearing on this case.”

“I won’t know that until all the facts are in,” replied Kala. “The more I know, the better I can piece together what led to Mr. Underwood’s death.”

“I hate talking about them,” said Susan with sudden vehemence. “It just feels like gossiping about something that happened a long time ago. I can’t think that it will help find who killed Tom.”

Clinton shifted his stance. “For Christ’s sake, Susan, tell her. She’s going to find out from someone.”

Susan turned sideways to look at her husband before she glanced at Kala. Her eyes focused on a point above Kala’s head. “You see, Hunter brought Laurel home from university to meet his family and Tom … well, he slept with her. The dirty little secret is that Tom left his wife for their son’s fiancée.”

“The man had no sense of duty to his family. Some might say, his past trespasses came back and killed him. It was retribution,” Clinton said.

“Really, Clinton, I don’t think now is the time to start judging. What Tom did was a long time ago and everybody paid. Even Laurel.”

A deep red suffused upward from his collar. “Why would you say Laurel paid? She married more money than she could ever spend and secured her fortune by giving birth to that kid Charlotte.”

“Laurel was weak. She chose money over happiness with Hunter. In the end, her decision left everyone miserable. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m still not well from the flu and really have to lie down. I should never have gotten out of bed.”

“Of course,” said Kala, standing at the same time as Susan. “I’m sorry to have come at such a bad time. If I have more questions, I’ll phone or come by when you’re feeling better.” She dropped a card with her office phone number on the table, nodded in the major’s direction before following Susan from the room.

Kala bent down to lace up her boots and watched Susan disappear up the stairwell, a feeling of excitement in the pit of her stomach. Susan’s bombshell explained a lot about the tensions running through the Underwood family. It told a lot about Tom Underwood’s character and the reason somebody might want him dead.

Susan Halliday woke from a dreamless sleep to a darkened bedroom. For a moment she couldn’t remember where she was, but the confusion was fleeting. Lately, she was becoming more and more unsure of her surroundings upon wakening, often believing herself to be a young girl again in her parents’ home. Once, she even thought her brother Roddy was sitting in the chair waiting for her, but it had been many years since they lived in the same house. She wondered if the confusion in her mind was a sign of things to come. Alzheimer’s ran in her family and odds were not in her favour. So far she’d avoided speaking with her doctor about her vague symptoms. She was waiting for something more concrete before sharing her fears.

The bed springs creaked and her heart jumped. She kept her body still. She took a deep breath and turned her head toward her husband. He was a dark outline leaning against the headboard.

“Clinton. How long have you been sitting there?” she asked.

“Half an hour.”

“I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I got lonely downstairs. It’s Christmas Eve after all.”

She heard him swallow and then ice cubes clink against glass. Oh no. Keep him talking. “I thought the officer was nice, considering why she came,” she said. She turned on her side and propped herself up on the pillow, her head resting on her elbow so she could watch him.

He looked down at her. “You were home that night?”

“Of course. Why would you ask?”

“I called and you didn’t answer the phone.”

“What time was that? I was home all evening,” she paused, “except when I went for a walk. But I wasn’t gone long.”

“Long enough. I tried calling for an hour and then gave up.”

“I’m sorry, Clinton. If you’d said you planned to call, I would have waited at home.”

He grunted and took another drink from his glass. She could smell rye from where she lay. His hand reached down and his fingers pulled a lock of her hair. She closed her eyes.

“I’ve got a present for you,” he said. “Just a bit lower.”

He tightened his hand in her hair and pulled her face toward his hip. Her cheek felt the skin of his leg and her mouth grazed his penis. She pulled away and pushed herself up with one hand until she was half sitting.

“Clinton, I’m not feeling well. I’m not up for this tonight.”

He laughed. “Well, I’m up for it. I’m sure you noticed.” He laughed again. “It’s your wifely duty to spread your legs more than once a month, or have you forgotten?”

“I just haven’t been well this month. I need some time.”

“And I need some ass.”

He grabbed her head and pulled her level. His mouth found hers and he forced it open until his tongue filled her mouth. She tasted rye and garlic. She tried to push him away, but he had her against the headboard. His hand worked under her nightgown, snaking up her stomach and squeezing her nipples. The pain was sharp and tears started in the corners of her eyes. Still his mouth kept pummelling hers as his tongue darted in and out. He pulled away as suddenly and roughly pushed her lower in the bed. His breathing was raspy and excited. He forced her onto her side, her face away from him. She felt his erection pressing against her back.

“All I want is what you promised to give me when you signed the marriage contract,” he said. “If you want it this way so you can pretend to be somewhere else, no fucking problem.”

She felt the first thrust rip through her and couldn’t stop the scream that rose up her throat. It excited him even more. His breath was hot in her ear.

“You like it rough,” he whispered. “You like it this way, my little Suzy. Wake up little Suzy. Wake up my sweet … little … Suzy.”

He flipped her onto her back and she bit with all her might into the pillow just as the full weight of him pushed deep inside her, again and again while she kept on screaming inside her head in a place so far down, nobody would ever hear.