Читать книгу Meg Harris Mysteries 7-Book Bundle - R.J. Harlick - Страница 17

The next day I woke up late, much later than I’d planned. After the previous day’s gun-toting confrontation, I’d decided the safest way to stop Charlie and the damn mine was to prove that the government did not own Whispers Island. I planned to spend the day searching through every single box, trunk and any other belonging of Aunt Aggie’s in the hope, no matter how far-fetched, of finding the proof.

But first, my breakfast. I was starved. However, I’d no sooner sat down to a large plate of scrambled eggs, hash browns and English sausages than Sergei, who was supposed to be sound asleep in the front room, burst into an uproar.

“Be quiet!” I shouted. But he persisted. I prayed it was nothing more than a teasing raccoon. However, after yesterday, I was half expecting to see Charlie Cardinal’s threatening mass on my doorstep.

I had no idea what he had against me. Even Eric didn’t know, just assumed, like Hélène, that Charlie’s intense hatred for him was spilling over onto me. That, and the fact I was also against the gold mine. Moreover, Eric was convinced Charlie was nothing but a harmless bully, full of bluster with no substance. He figured that as long as I stayed out of Charlie’s way, he’d leave me alone. Eric did, however, tell me to let him know if Charlie threatened me again.

It was all very well for Eric to say Charlie was no real threat. But with the possibility of Charlie arriving on my doorstep, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to test out Eric’s theory. I debated pretending I wasn’t home but decided that was playing into Charlie’s hand. So, determined not to allow my fears to get the better of me, I marched to the front door. But no bull moose stood on my doorstep, or anyone else for that matter. Nor was Sergei in sight. In fact, he had stopped barking.

Before I had a chance to return inside, Sergei bounded over the top stair from the dock. Close behind him strode a tall figure, too lean to be Charlie. I relaxed. It was Eric.

“What’s up?” I called out, surprised but faintly pleased by this unexpected visit.

He waited until he reached the porch before replying. Instead of a smile, worry creased his face.

“I wanted to let you know before you heard from anyone else.”

“What’s happened?” I asked wondering what Charlie had done now. But as I looked more closely at Eric’s sombre face, I knew this had nothing to do with Charlie. Cold, numbing dread washed over me. This was about Marie.

“We’ve found the body of—”

I closed my ears. I didn’t want to hear her name. If I hadn’t been so drunk, she’d still be alive. I grabbed Aunt Aggie’s chair and sat down. Shit. Marie. Dead. Because of me.

“I hope you caught the bastard,” I lashed out.

“Who’re you talking about?”

“Louis, of course.”

“Meg, you aren’t listening. It was Louis’s body that was found.”

“Louis?” I cried out, not quite believing my ears.

“Yes, Louis.”

“Not Marie?” I still wasn’t entirely convinced.

Eric patiently said no.

“Thank God.” I relaxed. Too bad Louis was dead, probably drowned, or maybe his liver had packed it in. What did it matter how he died. Marie was alive. “What about Marie, Eric, is she okay?”

“Don’t know. I haven’t been able to reach Tommy on my satellite phone, which means he’s turned it off.”

“Wait a minute, didn’t Louis die at his hunting camp?”

“No. Frosty found his body this morning at their homestead.”

“What was he doing there? He was supposed to be at the hunting camp with Marie.”

“No idea, but I’m sure the police will find out during their investigation.”

“Police? Does this mean someone killed him?”

“Looks that way, shot twice.”

“Do they know who shot him?” I asked.

“Not yet. Meg, I’m going to have to return to the Council Hall. You going to be okay?”

I nodded yes but didn’t feel it.

“What about Marie?” I asked. “Does this mean she didn’t go to Louis’s camp either?”

“We won’t know until we hear from Tommy. For the moment, I’m assuming she’s there, and for some reason, Louis returned home.”

“I sure hope she’s okay,” I said and left it at that. I didn’t want to voice my real fear—that she’d been killed too, and her body lay hidden waiting to be found.

As if reading my thoughts, Eric answered, “Don’t worry, I know it looks bad right now, but she’ll come out of this unharmed. Marie’s a survivor.”

He gave me a pat on the arm and left.

Deciding that Marie had greater priority than the ownership of Whispers Island, I gulped down my food and drove to her cabin to find out more. However, a line of yellow tape and a cop stopped me. Close-lipped, he gestured for me to turn around and go back the way I’d come. I drove instead to the General Store, knowing the rumour mill would be running full throttle.

And I was right. The store was humming with excited voices. Hélène, decked out in a vermilion sweatshirt with I NY etched in black sequins, perched smugly atop her stool as if she were their reigning queen.

This time, my presence didn’t stop the conversation. In fact, no one paid attention to me as I walked up to the coffee counter. They were too busy firing questions at Frosty, my coffee drinking buddy with the missing fingers. Unlike the other day, this group was older, closer to my age, a half dozen men and women from the reserve and a couple of local farmers. I said hi to those I recognized and grabbed a vacant stool. Without my asking, Hélène poured some coffee into her special Harrods mug, placed a thick chocolate doughnut on a china plate and passed them to me. I leaned back and listened.

“Cops say I can’t discuss the case, but seeing as how you’re my friends, I don’t see no harm in it.” Frosty’s preening voice rose above the crowd. “Sure could use some fuel, though.”

Frosty’s hand with the missing two fingers passed a coffee cup across the counter towards Hélène. With her eye on me, she laughed, reached under the counter and brought out a half full bottle of rye. She poured a good measure into his cup and quickly returned it to its hiding spot. Another hand with all its fingers slammed a couple of bucks down, which were quickly snatched up by Hélène and hidden away in her pocket.

I stared at her in surprise, then passed my mug over. What did I care if she had a little something going on the side.

“It was them flies,” Frosty began. “Crawling all over them logs. I figured something was dead, eh? Sure smelled like it too. But I figured it was a raccoon got caught. So I started moving them logs. Had to anyways, couldn’t drive around ’em, eh? Then I sees this hand. Damn near made me piss my pants. I—”

“Excuse me, Frosty,” I cut in, suddenly realizing which wood he was talking about. “Are you talking about that pile of firewood in the middle of Louis’s drive?”

“Yup, big pile. Anyways, I got rid of more logs. And next I knowed, Louis was staring back at me with those funny blue eyes of his. ’Cept they was dead eyes, bulging out of his head.”

I shivered. I’d walked by that wood, twice, only yesterday. I’d even noticed the flies.

Frosty stopped, took a careful look around to make sure we were all listening and continued. “Once I seen Louis, I knowed I gotta get the Police Chief. So I hotfooted back to the detachment office. Decontie says I was an important witness, eh? So I had to go back to Louis’s with him. He even called in them provincial cops, the SQ, it was that important, eh? I watched them take all them pictures, even do that fingerprinting stuff. Sure a bunch of hocus-pocus, you ask me. Anyone could see weren’t nothing there to tell ’em who done it.”

“Do the police know when Louis died?” I asked.

“Ain’t sayin’,” Frosty replied.

Maybe the police didn’t know yet, but I had a pretty good idea. It could only be between the time when Louis picked up Marie after her phone call to me and when I saw the log pile the following night.

“Shot in the back he was, eh?” Frosty continued. “Jeez, what a way to go. Probably didn’t even know what hit him. Poor sucker. Decontie figured it was a rifle done it, eh? Gotta be a Winchester for sure, since that’s the only kind good for killing. Why, my own Winchester can kill a moose from three hundred paces. But weren’t no gun there. They even searched them logs. Kinda messy, where Louis was rottin’. Guess he been there awhile.”

The timing started me thinking. If, as Eric said, it took a day to hike into Louis’s hunting camp, then it was impossible for Louis to go to his camp with Marie that night and return home by the next morning. He must’ve stayed behind.

“They know who done it?” Hélène asked. She held up the rye bottle. Several cups stretched toward it, including my own.

“Think they got an idea, but they ain’t sayin’,” Frosty replied.

I prayed that Marie had started out on her own, expecting Louis to catch up later. I didn’t want to think of the possibility of her being there when Louis was killed.

“I hear the wood came from Crapper’s bush, think he done it?” piped up a squeaky voice.

“Why he wanta kill him? He hardly knowed Louis. Couldn’t have done it, anyway. Laid up with back trouble,” Frosty answered.

“What’s that no-good Louis buying wood for when he got a wood lot full to bursting with deadfall from the ice storm?” someone asked.

“And where’d he get the money to buy it?” another voice added.

But no one was able to answer those questions, not even Frosty.

Another voiced the opinion “Shame to waste all that good wood on Louis, eh? Even a load of manure would’ve been too good for him.”

All nodded in agreement. More cups were passed across the counter. Hélène brought out her bottle, quickly replenished them and added more coffee. She put the money with the rest in her pocket.

“I hear they found a bracelet,” she said. All eyes turned towards her. “Clutched in Louis’s hand.”

“I didn’t see no bracelet,” Frosty said suspiciously. “Who’d ya hear that from?”

“From one of the cops when they were here earlier. They thought it was Marie’s.”

“What did it look like?” I asked afraid of the answer.

“Orange beads with black horn and real turquoise. I’m sure you’ve seen it, Meg. It was the one she bought at last year’s Pow Wow.”

My heart sank. I knew it too well. I’d even remarked on its fine craftsmanship.

“Did the police say anything else?”

“Nope, but I got the impression they think Marie was there when Louis died.”

Shit.

I hesitated, but I had to know. “Do they think she was killed also?” I asked.

Hélène dropped her gaze to the counter. “I don’t think that’s what they meant.”

I looked at her with alarm at where this was leading. “Are you saying they think she killed him?” I asked.

“Can’t say. Look, we all know Marie wouldn’t do a thing like that, eh?” Hélène looked towards the others, as if seeking agreement. “But, hell, if she did do Louis in, she had good cause, that’s for sure.”