Читать книгу Meg Harris Mysteries 7-Book Bundle - R.J. Harlick - Страница 61

Although I felt a good stiff measure of vodka would be better medicine for settling the residual flutters from finding Chantal’s body and facing John-Joe’s gun, I settled for the compensatory effects of tea. Besides, the vodka was long gone from my house.

The last of the day’s brightness was turning twilight grey as I poured the boiling water into the ancient Brown Betty teapot my great-aunt had passed on to me. And like her, despite its cracked and stained appearance, I preferred it to the sterling silver fixture that flaunted itself along with the rest of the ornate Victorian tea service kept out of respect for Aunt Aggie on top of the buffet in the dining room. The old stoneware pot made the perfect cup of tea.

Eric had just finished building up the fire in the living room fireplace when I walked in with the tea tray. Sergei lay where he’d probably lain for most of the day, spread out on my spot on the chesterfield. He moved with a disgruntled growl, but only after I had to resort to shoving him, all thirty-five kilograms of him, to his part of the sofa. Then, as if realizing life wasn’t so tough, he turned around and nestled his muzzle on my lap. I patted his soft, springy poodle curls.

“Maybe I should’ve been born a dog,” Eric said, grinning as he sat down on one of the two wing-backed chairs flanking the massive fireplace.

Much preferring Eric’s warm body nestling next to mine, I started to push the dog aside.

“Please, don’t disturb the noble beast. I can’t stay long.”

“Oh? I was hoping you’d stay for dinner.” With the images of Chantal’s mutilated body still fresh in my mind, I had only one desire, not to be alone tonight.

“Love to, but duty calls. I’ve got to inform the band council about the murder and John-Joe’s arrest.”

“Come afterwards. We can have a late dinner.”

He shook his head. “Sorry, tied up.”

I raised my eyebrows, but ignoring my unspoken query, he continued, “Before I leave, though, I want to get John-Joe’s lawyer lined up.”

“Already done,” I answered, feeling somewhat pleased with my forethought.

Now it was Eric’s turn to raise his eyebrows.

But I didn’t ignore his query. “Did it while I was making the tea.”

“I would’ve appreciated being consulted,” Eric replied stiffly. “John-Joe is, after all, one of my people.”

“Afraid whitey is taking over?” I answered, feeling put out. I’d promised John-Joe I’d do all I could to help him, and the first thing he needed was a good lawyer.

For a second, anger flashed in his eyes, then he shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose you’re right. But in a situation like this, it’s best to be defended by your own kind.”

“And who’s to say I didn’t think of that myself?”

“Okay, I give up. Who’d you get?”

“Tommy Whiteduck.”

“Okay, I’m sorry. I should’ve trusted your judgement.”

Although Tommy had been practicing law for only a couple of years, he was beginning to make a name for himself as an up and coming young native lawyer. And since he had grown up on the Migiskan Reserve and knew John-Joe well, I felt he would do all within his power to defend his friend against Sergeant LaFramboise’s prejudice. He also happened to be the son of one of the first friends I’d made in this northern wilderness. Although two years had passed since his mother had tragically died, I still felt the loss of her friendship.

“No, I should be the one apologizing,” I said. “As usual, I jumped without thinking. I should’ve talked it over with you first. If you know of someone better, I’m sure Tommy would understand.”

“It’s okay. He was my choice too,” Eric paused to sip his tea. “I hope he can make it from Ottawa to Somerset by the time LaFramboise gets John-Joe to the police station.”

“Tommy said he was leaving the minute he hung up. By the way, who’s supposed to contact Chantal’s parents? Us?”

“Police. I know nothing about her. John-Joe brought her in.”

“Has he known her for long?”

“A few months. He couldn’t stop talking about what he called his movie star since meeting her at some bar in Somerset.” Eric stood up. “As much as I’d like to stay, I’ve got to be on my way.”

“I still have some of your frozen bass left over from the summer. Sure you don’t want to come back for dinner?” I persisted. “Wish I could.”

“Why don’t you break this other engagement?” With a final “can’t”, Eric was out the door. “This have anything to do with what you won’t talk about?” I shouted as the door closed behind him. Damn him and his new girlfriend. Surely he could see that tonight I needed him.

I continued sitting in front of the fire as it crackled and sent sparks up the chimney. Night’s blackness had crept into the room, leaving me alone in my island of orange light. Sergei twitched beside me, as if dreaming of chasing squirrels. I sipped my cold tea.

Forget Eric. If he didn’t want me, then I didn’t want him.

I cast my thoughts in Yves’s direction and wondered how I could invite him to join me for the evening without appearing too forward. I remembered I did have an excuse to call, although not a pleasant one. Since he’d called me about Chantal, his business associate’s daughter, it seemed only proper that I should let him know of her death.

But I had as little success reaching Yves as I’d had in convincing Eric to come back. His father, with his usual brusqueness, informed me that Yves was not at home. He hung up before I could ask to speak to Yvette. Not feeling up to taking on the old man, I didn’t bother to call back, but I resolved to visit Yvette the next day. Hopefully, Yves would be there.

I sat for a few minutes longer in the fire’s cocoon of soothing heat, then figuring dinner might perk me up, I switched on the light and headed to the kitchen. As I passed the chair where Eric had been sitting, I noticed his wallet tucked behind the seat cushion.

No one answered at the Council Hall. When I phoned his home, a woman’s voice answered. I slammed the phone down.

It took me several minutes to get my anger under control. The bastard. That’s why he was in such a hurry to leave.

I was so infuriated, I almost drove into Somerset to the nearest liquor store to buy a bottle of vodka with the money from Eric’s wallet, but I managed to talk myself out of it. Instead, I consoled myself with food. I cooked the bass I’d offered him. Why should I save this rare treat for a man who was no longer my friend?

Then I ruined it. Instead of eating succulent, melt-in-yourmouth bass, the way Eric would’ve cooked it, I ate overcooked, dried-out cardboard. Fed-up, I retreated to the living room, threw another log onto the fire and flopped down onto the couch next to the only warm body willing to keep me company. Sergei gave me a once-over sniff then dropped his head back down and resumed sleeping. He wasn’t interested in me either.

I was nodding off when a sudden knock jolted me awake and sent Sergei barking to the front door. Figuring it was Eric come to retrieve his wallet, I debated pretending I wasn’t home, then common sense took over. But instead of Eric, a shivering John-Joe stared back at me through the open door. The right side of his face looked bloody and bruised, and there was a rip in the sleeve of my jacket.

“Please, can I come in?” he said. One hand still wore the mitt I’d given him. The other hand was bare. And encircling both of them were handcuffs.

Before I had a chance to answer, my phone rang. I glanced at John-Joe’s frightened eyes, and I left the front door open as I walked back to the living room to answer the phone. This time it was Eric.

“Meg, John-Joe’s escaped,” he said. I tried to sound surprised. “Oh no, when?”

“A couple of hours ago. There was an accident when they were bringing him into the Fishing Camp. The snowmobile he was on overshot the edge of a deep ravine. By the time they got down to the site, John-Joe had fled. They couldn’t track him. The bugger had kept to the stream.”

I turned to where John-Joe stood in the hall and noticed ice covering the bottom of his jeans. He had the look of a terrified stag about to flee. I motioned him to stay.

“We have no idea where he’s gone,” Eric continued, “but if he happens to come your way, call the police. This will only make things worse for him.”

I looked at the fear in John-Joe’s eyes. His lips trembled. Blood dribbled from his chin onto his soaked jacket. “It’s hardly likely he’d come here,” I said. “He’d find another isolated hunting camp. You should be checking those out.”

“The police will first thing in the morning. And once again, sorry about dinner tonight, but maybe we could do it this coming Saturday.”

With the sound of that other woman’s voice still resounding in my ear, I hung up without giving him an answer, but I’d no sooner placed the phone on the hook than I realized I’d forgotten to mention his wallet. Tough. Let him find out when he needed it.