Читать книгу Meg Harris Mysteries 7-Book Bundle - R.J. Harlick - Страница 47

I hung up the phone, knowing I’d just heard the voice of a killer. If it weren’t so deadly serious, I could almost laugh at the absurdity of the phone call, which made me feel as if I’d just taken a bit part in a B movie. But two deaths and a shooting were more than enough to convince me that the threat would be carried out if I didn’t deliver the money. And to make the fifteen-minute deadline, I had to leave now.

Despite his warning, however, I wasn’t about to go into the killer’s den without police protection. I quickly called the Migiskan police detachment, explained the situation and told the dispatcher my suspicions about Charlie. She now offered to tell me what was keeping the Chief busy. A stake-out with Sgt. LaFramboise and his men. At Aunt Aggie’s sugar shack no less. Had been there since last night.

The dispatcher tried to dissuade me from going by saying it wasn’t worth putting myself in danger just for a dog, which only served to reinforce my resolve. So with time fast running out, I told him in no uncertain terms to make sure Decontie was prepared to cover me and nab the killer once I had my dog.

I grabbed the sack, ran through the rain to my truck and drove as fast as the groaning suspension would allow. I reached my house with five minutes to spare, barely enough time to run to the sugar shack.

At first I was surprised not to see police vehicles parked in the drive, but I realized they wouldn’t want to advertise their presence. I would have to trust that the dispatcher had managed to alert Decontie.

I jumped out of my truck and slammed the door as hard as I could to warn them of my arrival. Amazed at how empty the woods felt, I felt a moment’s hesitation before I started racing down the waterlogged trail to the sugar shack. At least the sound of my splashing pace should give the police sufficient warning of my progress.

I was more than halfway when I heard shouts, one rifle shot followed by another. Surprisingly, it appeared to be coming from as far away as the main road, not from the direction I was headed. What was going on? I debated continuing, when a sharp bark from the sugar shack decided me.

I sprinted the last hundred yards down the trail and stopped when the hut’s black shape loomed through the rain. The door was closed, windows dark.

Police radios crackled above the rain’s patter. Although the noise was still distant, it convinced me the police were capturing Charlie on his way to the shack.

I called Sergei and was answered by a burst of yapping from inside the shack. I suppose I should have wondered why the dog was inside and his kidnapper some distance away. But I didn’t. I was too relieved to find my dog still alive.

I dropped the money sack and ran to the door. I wrenched it open and braced myself for his joyous pounces. But his black body remained beyond the range of the meager light from the windows. I ran to the sound of his yelping, and finding him tied to a post, quickly unclipped his leash. But before my mind had a chance to absorb the fact that someone had done the tying, the room suddenly exploded with light and a guttural voice said, “About time.”

I jerked around to see the massive yellow figure of Charlie Cardinal leering behind the kerosene lamp, his moose-like features sculpted into a caricature by the harsh light. He pointed a rifle barrel straight at me.

Too shocked to be afraid, I sputtered, “I thought—”

“Ya liked our little trick, eh? A phone tip to that fool Decontie saying we was at another camp down the road. By the time he clues in, we’re long gone. So where’s the money?”

As Sergei clung to my side, my heart sank with the realization that I was completely without police protection.

Sergei whimpered. “What did you do to my dog?” I asked.

“More like what he do to my bitch? The horny cur wouldn’t leave her alone.” Charlie curled his lip as if attempting to smile.

I watched him pull out a cigarette package from inside his yellow slicker.

“You said ‘we’, Charlie? Who else is involved in your dirty dealings?” I asked. I ran my eyes around the brightly lit room in search of clues as to the identity of this mysterious partner.

Charlie smirked in response.

My eyes caught sight of a familiar tweed jacket thrown over the back of one of the plastic chairs. A jacket I’d seen only yesterday on someone who’d tried to convince me of his innocence. “It’s Gareth.”

Charlie blew out a stream of smoke. “Whatta joke, him being your ex, eh?”

“Where is he?” I asked.

“Wouldn’t you like to know. Now give me my money.”

I knew if I told him the money was lying outside, all would be lost. He’d escape the police and I’d be dead. Praying the police would quickly realize their mistake and return, I decided my best option was to stall for time.

“Nice scheme you and Gareth cooked up,” I said. “Get rid of everything that reveals the true owner of Whispers Island, and the gold mine goes ahead.”

Charlie started to protest, but remembering I’d seen the results of his theft in the sack, grinned instead. “Knew Marie’s grandparents and your aunt had somethin’ to do with the island. So figured I was on to somethin’ when I nabbed them two pictures.”

“But the picture didn’t prove Marie owned the land,” I said.

“Didn’t matter,” Charlie replied. “Marie never told nobody she owned the island. Once she was dead, we just had to get rid of anything that said she did. Patterson said that with no living owner, the land goes back to the government, and we get the rest of our money.”

“Is that why you killed Marie and tried to shoot Tommy?”

“Kill her? What ya talkin’ about? She done herself in after killin’ Louis.”

“Maybe you didn’t, but what about your partner?” I asked, not wanting to believe that the man I’d once loved would actually kill someone to get what he wanted.

A twitch suddenly appeared in the corner of Charlie’s right eye. He grunted, then spat on the floor, which made Sergei press harder against my side, causing something sharp to jab into my thigh.

“Where’s my money,” Charlie hissed.

“Hardly yours. You stole it.” I reached into my pocket to remove the sharp object and discovered the piece of quartz I’d noticed last night.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, lady. It’s mine. Now give it to me or else.” He walked towards me, rifle pointed.

Sergei growled.

“Shut up, you damn dog.”

Sergei lunged forward. Charlie grabbed his collar and dragged the snarling dog across the floor to the door. I tried to stop him but was shoved back against the wall. In the scuffle, I dropped the rock. With a final yelp, the dog was outside. The door was slammed against him. The latch was shoved into place.

Charlie swung the pointed barrel back at me. “Now where’s the money?”

“I’ve got it,” spoke a voice from outside. Sergei growled. “Get away,” yelled the voice, followed by a loud yelp. “Let me in.”

“Run away, dog,” I muttered under my breath, as I stared at the piece of purple fabric lying under the quartz on the floor and knew suddenly that Gareth wasn’t a killer.

Charlie opened the door to a figure, almost his height, who kicked the sodden sack into the room. Water coursed over the yellow slicker onto the floor. One large, angular hand clutched the wooden stalk of a rifle, while the other shoved the jacket hood aside. With the inevitable cigarette jammed in the corner of her mouth, Hélène’s acne-ruined face glowered back at me. “Jeez, Charlie, she still here?”

I wasn’t surprised. Hélène herself had told me about her lover Charlie. The piece of fuchsia fabric told me rest.

She dumped the money onto the floor and began counting it. “It’s all here. I’ll get the rest, and then we’re outta here. Police might be back any time now.”

She walked over to the mattress on the opposite side of the room and shoved it aside. She nodded in my direction and said, “Do something with her.”

Afraid what that something could mean, I glanced nervously at Charlie, who continued to guard the only exit. However, he was more intent on watching his lover remove floorboards. His look of puzzlement suggested he wasn’t sure what she was up to.

I glanced over my shoulder at a broken window several feet behind me. Prepared to stop the moment Hélène looked up, I stepped quietly backwards until I felt the wall. The window, its pane shattered by yesterday’s bullet, was an arm’s length away.

Charlie spoke up, “What’s that?” I froze. But he ignored me and walked past to where Hélène was removing a canvas sack, similar to the one I’d taken.

I continued inching towards the window. Hélène and Charlie were too focused on the sack to notice me. As I reached the window, I turned around and braced myself to crash through the window.

“What’re you doing?” Hélène yelled. I stopped. The rifle bolt hammered home. “Move back,” she said.

Temporarily beaten, but not yet ready to declare defeat, I returned to the middle of the room. I listened for sounds that would tell me the police were coming, but I heard only the rain drumming on the roof.

Charlie dumped the contents of the sack onto the floor. Bundles of money spilled out. A look of amazement washed over his face. “Christ, where’d all this come from?”

Ignoring him, she stepped back and stopped when she had us both within her sights. Her cigarette glowed. Her yellow slicker hung open revealing a fuchsia jacket underneath, the jacket I’d seen from the lake. The jacket gaped where a hole had been torn in the fabric.

“That’s Louis’s share,” I said. “Hélène stole it.”

She thrust her chiselled face in my direction, her black eyes coldly appraising, and sneered, “It was my money. I was the only one with the brains to go after CanacGold. But jeez, finding Tommy alive gave me a scare. I figured he was dead for sure when I left him.”

I sensed Charlie stiffening behind me. I pointed to the piece of fuchsia fabric lying on the floor. “But you did kill Marie.”

Her unblinking eyes stared back at me. She didn’t even attempt to hide the damning tear made when she’d crawled out of the cave after killing Marie.

I heard Charlie grunt.

“And you killed Louis too.” I said.

Charlie’s feet scraped on the floor. “Hon, tell her it’s not true,” he pleaded, all his bluster gone.

For a moment, Hélène looked nonplussed, then she screeched, “Oh, shut up! You’re so damn dumb, Charlie. I don’t know why I put up with you. You thought Louis would lead us to riches. Hah! He was all set to sell us out. He woulda left us with nothin’.”

Like a robot, Charlie stared at her with unseeing eyes, while a curtain of dread crept over his face. He reached up and touched the eagle feather hanging from his braid.

“I did it for us, Charlie. I had to. You didn’t have the guts to do it.” She flung back her shoulders and glared back at her lover. Her fingers tightened around the rifle.

“You shot Marie before she could tell me about the island,” I whispered softly.

“Yeah,” she replied smugly, almost as if she was proud of what she’d done. “Lucky I overheard her on the store phone. Charlie already told me about Marie’s link to the island, so I got suspicious. I offered her a cuppa coffee on the house. Soon she was telling me all about this piece of bark her mama gave her. How this means Whispers Island belonged to her, but she wasn’t suppose to tell nobody, ’cause it would only bring trouble.”

Hélène stopped to take a deep drag on her cigarette, then continued, “Stupid bitch. Imagine owning an island and doing nothin’ about it. She got scared when she heard about the gold on the island and told Louis. Jeez, all he wanted to do was sell the land to CanacGold, eh? She was gonna tell you, Meg, so you could stop the mine.”

All this time, she had been glaring at Charlie, as if daring him to challenge her words. Now she turned her gaze back to me. But behind her defiance, I caught a hint of entreaty.

“Well, I couldn’t let her do that, could I?” she said. “I needed CanacGold to get that gold. It was my ticket outta here. Once they sized the deposit, I’d get the rest of my money. I tried to talk her out of it, eh? But the stupid bitch wouldn’t listen. She gave me no choice. I had to kill her.”

Charlie groaned. “How could you?”

But as if she hadn’t heard, Hélène took another deep drag. “I knew she went to the island to talk to her ancestors. So I told her we should go there and ask them what to do, eh? I locked up the store and we drove to the Fishin’ Camp. She waited in the boat, while I went to get the rifle I keep in the Camp’s gear shed. But I seen Louis’s p’tit gars propped against a wall, where he musta forgot it. So I says to myself, why not. They’d think it was Louis done it, not me. Serve the bastard right, eh!”

Héléne laughed, more like cackled. “When we got to the island, she took me into the cave. Said it was the best place to talk to the spirits. I tried one last time to convince her the mine was okay, but she wouldn’t budge, so I shot her.”

I looked at Charlie to see how he was taking this. But his face showed little expression beyond the twitch near his eye.

While Hélène was telling her story, her grip had relaxed on the gun barrel. Now it pointed at the floor, not at me. Behind me, I could hear Sergei’s quiet whimpers at the door. I decided I’d try for the door. As Hélène continued her story, I shuffled backwards.

“But I had to shut Louis up too. I caught him next morning unloadin’ firewood. It was perfect, eh? I shot him and dumped the wood on top of him, then I went back to the island and put the gun with Marie. I figured the way I hid the bodies, no one’d find them for weeks. By then Charlie and I are far away.”

I caught the faint crackle of a police radio and glanced quickly at Charlie and Hélène to see if either had heard. But they were too intent on the story, the one telling, the other listening. I continued moving slowly backwards to the door.

“Even had the police runnin’ off to Louis’s camp with that dumb note, didn’t I? Sure had you fooled, eh? But the best was making you all think Marie killed Louis and then herself.” She finished with a low throaty cackle.

“This eagle feather, Hélène, the one you gave me when I lost mine. It was Marie’s, wasn’t it?” Charlie whispered, waking from his trance-like state.

Chanting softly to himself, Charlie carefully detached the long black and white feather from his braid and gently laid it on the table beside him. Turning a stark stare back to Hélène he said, “We have angered the spirits. We must answer to kije manido.”

“Jeez, Charlie, ain’t you ever gonna quit believin’ that guff.” She spat the burning cigarette from her mouth and stomped on it.

“Hélène, why? Marie was like a sister. How could you kill her?” He looked at her imploringly, as if trying to fathom her betrayal.

“For the money, ya stupid bastard. That’s all it ever was, the money. That’s the only reason I put up with your snivellin’ ways,” she sneered as she aimed her rifle.

“How dare you, you bitch!” screamed Charlie as he lunged towards her, knocking her to the ground. Kicking and screeching, she struggled to raise the gun. A glint of metal as his fist jabbed her chest. With the other hand, he grabbed her rifle.

Suddenly, a violent roar shook the building along with a blinding flash as the bullet smashed through the lamp. Flaming oil flew in every direction, coating the floor in a blaze of fire. Within seconds, the ancient shack was an inferno.

The way out was still clear, but where Charlie and Hélène lay, it was a wall of flames. I saw two pairs of feet and pulled the pair with the boots, not the running shoes with the elongated “y” on the sole. While the fire crackled around me, I strained and pulled and dragged the heavy body out the door, where I left it on the ground and ran back to get the other one.

The roof beams had ignited. Terrified they would cave in, I grabbed the feet with the running shoes and pulled. Suddenly there was a loud explosion, which was the last thing I remembered before finding myself stretched out on the ground with Sergei’s rough tongue licking my face.

“Stupid dog,” I said and gave him a big grateful hug.

All that remained of Aunt Aggie’s sugar shack was a bonfire of blazing timber and red hot metal sizzling in the rain. Soon it would be nothing but a smouldering heap of shattered hopes and dreams gone wrong. A stench of smoke, mixed with an odour I didn’t want to identify, hung in the air.

Gareth was standing over me, with his arms crossed. “Good, you’re alive.”

“How’d I get here?”

“I pulled you out. Couldn’t let you fry, could I?” he said with a wry smile.

My head hurt. I reached up and felt singed hair. “I suppose I should say thank you.”

He shrugged.

I looked over to where I’d dragged the body. Charlie was painfully raising himself to his feet. His face was streaked in soot, one cheek blistered, his braids gone. But apart from a few burnt patches on his heavy outdoor clothing, the rest of his body was spared.

He stood up, wavered a bit, then turning towards the smoking ruins, his face twisted in anguish, gasped, “She didn’t feel the fire. She was already dead. I killed her with my knife. I have answered to kije manido.”

Eric suddenly appeared from the direction of my cottage. “Meg, you’re okay!” he cried, running towards me. Behind him were Decontie and his men.

On a branch high above my head, a black shape slowly unfurled his wings, lifted into the air and disappeared with two mighty sweeps of his wings. His role was over. Marie’s messenger had delivered his message.