Читать книгу Cordi O'Callaghan Mysteries 4-Book Bundle - Suzanne F. Kingsmill - Страница 19

It took a little while to adjust to the brilliant sunshine, and I was deep in thought as I walked back to my car. It was late afternoon and I was trying to decide where to park myself until my 8:00 p.m. appointment with Don, trying to forget that I could have been having dinner with Patrick.

As I was heading toward my car a smart little sports car turned in and Leslie jumped out.

“Any luck with your disks?” she called out.

“Not yet,” I said as she walked over to me.

“Is that why you’re here? I must say, I didn’t expect to see you again. Or are you here to lecture?” The innuendo was there, I could feel it, but the smile on her face seemed genuine.

“I wanted more information on the logging north of Dumoine. Patrick Whyte said he could get me the film of the info meeting. I came up to take a look at that.”

“What a zoo that was,” she said. “Don’t know what good it’ll do you, but it sure is entertaining, if you like controversy that is.”

“I’ve just taken a good look at it. There were a lot of angry people in that room that night.”

“Yeah,” said Leslie with a half-smile. “You can say that again.” She started turning away, “You going inside?”

I wasn’t, of course, but I nodded, and the two of us began to walk back the way I had just come.

“I didn’t notice Patrick Whyte there,” I said, as nonchalantly as I could. “I thought that was odd. Was he sick?”

“Patrick? No. He just isn’t interested in the logging up there. He’s a gung-ho environmentalist, but he opted out of this one. Don’t know why. You’ll just have to ask him.” Again, the little dig was there, not in the words themselves but in how she said them.

“I noticed you didn’t take part in any of the discussions.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she said, turning to look at me.

“Just that you seem to be in a delicate position. You’re studying moose, and logging makes great moose habitat. Maybe you stood to gain something if the area was logged.”

She stopped suddenly and stared at me.

“Are you kidding?”

We reached the double doors of the building in icy silence, and Leslie hauled one open.

I hesitated, then said, “Davies tells me you and Diamond once had a relationship.”

She stared at me, cold as a glacier stream, her mouth tight and narrow. Suddenly she smiled. “Boy, you are nosey, aren’t you? So’s Davies. Yeah, we were lovers once. And he was a royal asshole when it came to women.” There was a hardness to her voice, and something flashed into her eyes that made me feel uneasy.

“What do you mean?”

“He used women, although to be fair I don’t think he knew he did, but he did. He’d gobble them up, chew them to pieces, and then spit them out.”

The bitterness leaked through her smile like overflowing bathwater seeping through a ceiling.

“Is that what happened to you?”

“I don’t know what you’re trying to get at. I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s really none of your business.” She scowled. “We were lovers once, okay? We fell out of love. It was no big secret. He’s dead now and so what does it matter what we were to each other?”

“You got his job.”

“Sure, I got his job. I should have had it years ago, but that doesn’t mean I wished him dead. Anything else?”

“Actually, yes. What would Diamond have done with film he took on his trip?”

“He’d bring the roll back here to be developed, but obviously he wouldn’t have had a chance on this last trip.”

“Has anything showed up here?”

“I wouldn’t know. You’ll have to ask Patrick. Why are you so interested, anyway?”

“There was no film found among Diamond’s belongings — not even any unexposed film. It just seems odd, that’s all.”

“Sorry, can’t help.”

We parted company and on impulse I stopped in at the library, found a pay phone, and put in a call to Duncan. I waited for what seemed like an age before his booming voice blasted my ear.

“What can I do for you, girl?”

I filled him in on what I’d accomplished over the two days since I had talked to him last.

“Interesting, my girl, but no evidence to warrant reopening this case.” He paused and then asked, “Have you got a theory?”

“Sort of,” I said. “He could easily have been taking sleeping pills without his girlfriend knowing. He was the sort of macho man who wouldn’t want to admit to any weakness. But she also said he’d never take sardines into the bush because they’re too smelly and attractive to bears.”

“Do you believe her?”

“Yeah, I do. He knew the bush well. It would have been dumb. As for the sleeping pills, I don’t know of anyone who has to take a sleeping pill in the wild. He’d been out there three weeks. He must have been in great shape, working hard all day in the sun, working up an appetite and then sleeping like a baby. No need of sleeping pills. And the weather was beautiful until late on the night he died — hot and humid and sunny. Easy to go swimming, even after the sun was down, and easy to dump any soiled clothes in the water to clean out the oil, but he didn’t. She’s probably right, although you could argue that he got too tired and simply fell asleep before changing. But it would be like a bloody beacon sending out an invitation to the bear for supper.”

“You do see the complicated in life, don’t you, Cordi? Diamond probably had someone else with him who had brought sardines and it all happened so fast that Diamond couldn’t get rid of them before the bear attacked.”

In one blinding flash I saw it. Why hadn’t I seen it long before this?

“Or maybe there’s another reason,” I said excitedly. “Maybe, just maybe, someone spiked his water and then planted the sardine oil on his pants.”

“What?” Duncan’s voice shook down the line like a jackhammer hitting metal.

“Put it in his water flask.”

“Put what?”

“Sleeping pills.”

“Hang on there, girl. You’re getting carried away. Even supposing someone did, he’d be sure to taste it,” protested Duncan.

My mind was racing, some of the pieces starting to fall into place. I thought back to his mess tent and the iodine tablets I’d seen.

“Not if he was using iodine tablets to purify his water. They’d mask the flavour of anything. What if the oil was spilled later, when he was sleeping?”

“My dear girl!”

“No, it’s not as crazy as it seems. I was talking to Don Allenby. He was very evasive, but he said something about sardines, and then he said something like, ‘Why would I bait him?’ At first I thought he meant ‘bait’ as in ‘taunt,’ but I’m not so sure now. How did he know about the sardines? It wasn’t public knowledge, was it?”

“No. It was never considered important enough to be reported as anything but fish oil. The public was given reassurance that the fish attracted the bear and if they’re just careful in the woods, it won’t happen to them.”

“Don was scared, Duncan. His comment made me think someone could have deliberately used Diamond as bait. The sort of thing bear hunters do in the spring. They set out bait in the bear’s known haunts and then they sit behind a blind and wait.”

“You’re talking murder, girl,” he said, and when I didn’t respond he said more forcefully, “You’re talking gibberish, Cordi. Even if what you say is true, how would they ever be sure the bear would be there? You’ve got to admit that it’s a very unpredictable murder weapon to choose.”

“I don’t know, Duncan. I haven’t yet worked that part out.”

Duncan was silent. I wanted desperately for him to agree with me, or at least to think my theory was possible.

“Don used the word murder before shutting up. But there’s no way I can prove it even if it were true and I found out who was responsible. It makes the fumigating of my larvae and the stealing of my disks make a lot more sense, though. Whoever did it wanted Diamond out of the way but for some reason didn’t want his body found where he died, most likely because it would incriminate whoever it is. That could be just about anybody, but my bet’s on Don. He has the strongest motive of all: his child’s welfare.”

“And he knew about the sardines, a fact I never released publicly. You be careful, girl. I’d hate to lose you now that I’ve found me a forensic entomologist.”

I pulled the receiver away from my ear and looked at it. “I beg your pardon?”

“I’ve decided you should become Dumoine’s first forensic entomologist, girl, on a consulting basis whenever we need you. You have most of the criteria, and it wouldn’t take you long to get the hang of it. We’d just need you to help pinpoint time of death and stuff. You see, there is a dearth of qualified people willing to do this work. I know I’m being a little presumptuous, and you don’t have to say a thing right now. Just think about it and we can talk later.”

He was being unbelievably presumptuous, but before I could say anything there was a loud clanging juddering noise over the lines and I jerked the receiver away. Through the noise I could barely hear Duncan’s voice: “Gotta go! They’re drilling holes for a new fancy-dancy telephone line. Think about it.” And the line went dead.

Since I was still in the building I wandered back to Diamond’s lab, hoping Patrick would still be there so I could ask him some more questions. Transparent reason, but better than none. The door to the lab was open, and I hesitated before I knocked and walked in. I heard a quick breath, a rustle, and a book or something falling.

“What are you doing here?”

“I might ask the same of you,” I said as Lianna moved out from behind a bookcase and stared at me. She said nothing at all, and the silence became uncomfortable. I folded first.

“I was looking for Whyte. Thought he could tell me more about Diamond’s role in the logging issue. Maybe you can help me.”

Lianna still hadn’t blinked, still stared at me with her carefully made-up eyes, and it unnerved me.

“You were there. I saw you on the film. Sitting with the loggers. Isn’t that an odd thing to do? Supporting the loggers when your husband was so against them?”

“Look, lady. I’m my own woman. Just because I was married to the guy doesn’t mean I have to agree with everything he did. In fact, I actively disagreed with most of his ideas. I own a cottage up in the area. There’s no road access, no hydro, but it’s a beautiful spot. I’d love to get a road in there. I hate rustic living, but I love the country. Go figure. The loggers claimed they would put in a road. Besides, it annoyed Jake to see me there and that made me feel good.”

“You hated him that much?”

“Hate isn’t the word. I resented him. I resented all that he did to me. I resented his work. It took him away from me, and even when it didn’t he’d bring his damn work home.”

“Is that why you left him?”

She looked at me, tilting her head to one side, and I thought she wouldn’t answer, but instead she spat out, “Yes, that and his continuous string of mistresses. He paid more attention to them and to his goddamned study animals than he ever did to me. He started bringing his bloody cats home six years ago. The first one was a little three-month-old cub. It was pretty cute and it didn’t stay long, but then there were more and most of them needed to be bottle fed at all hours of the day and night. They’d mew and puke and pee and the house smelled awful all the time. I couldn’t bring anybody home it was so bad. We couldn’t even make love when the damn things were around. If they mewed he’d be gone in a flash.”

She looked at me defensively as if wanting my support. I nodded in sympathy, not because her life had been invaded by cats but because of the string of mistresses. Even if I didn’t like her I could feel sorry for the pain he had caused her and the hatred that had resulted from it.

“The last straw,” she said, “were two ugly, naked cubs, so young their eyes weren’t even open. He and Jeff had brought them in one night a few years ago after returning from New Brunswick to pick up some sperm for Jeff’s artificial insemination project. You know about Jeff?”

I nodded and she continued.

“They only stayed a night, I made sure of that. I threw them all out the next day. I guess he went up to Jeff’s, but we didn’t talk to each other much after that. It was over even then, you see. I just hadn’t wanted to admit it. But then that little bitch Shannon appeared and I couldn’t take the humiliation anymore. I’d given him so many chances. I threw his stuff out in the yard six months ago, changed the locks on the door, and filed for divorce.”

“Why did you lie about the little black book?”

She looked at me and smiled. “So you’ve been talking to Shannon, have you? I wondered how long before you’d find out from the bitch. You suspected right from the start that I was lying, didn’t you? I know that now, but I thought my act had convinced you.”

When I didn’t answer she continued.

“If I’d told you I was looking for something that belonged to Diamond, as his bitter ex-wife, what would have been my chances that I would have got a straight answer from you?”

“But how did you know Diamond had written his will in it?” I said, evading the question.

“My lawyer told me Shannon was claiming there was another will. She’s not very bright, you know. She told my lawyer it was in Diamond’s diary. But she could-n’t come up with it, so I knew she didn’t have it. I hoped the police did. I figured he owed me and that the bitch didn’t deserve a thing.”

“Didn’t you get anything in the divorce settlement?”

She laughed again, a sad, sorry little laugh.

“Oh sure, but not my fair share, never my fair share. I’m just lucky he forgot to change his will in time. I deserve to get something out of his death. I got nothing out of his life.”