A Hummingbird Dance (6 page)

Later, Harper awoke to Jessica's crying. He opened his eyes to see the illuminated time on the alarm clock. It read three-thirty
AM
.

Erinn snored.

He rolled out of bed, pulled on a T-shirt and sweats. When he turned on the light in Jessica's room, she had a fist jammed in her mouth. He went to pick her up and found that her pajamas were wet from the armpits
down. He carried her to the changing table and pulled out a diaper and clean pajamas. As he worked Jessica's arms and feet out of the pajamas, he heard footsteps in the hall. Without looking, Harper said, “It's okay Erinn, go back to sleep. She's just wet.”

“Can't sleep.” Glenn's voice sounded like it had been tuned with beer and secondhand cigarette smoke. He moved into Jessica's room.

“You smell like a brewery.” Harper dropped the wet pajamas in the hamper. He held his hand on Jessica's tummy while studying Glenn's slow, deliberate motions.

“I know. I look like shit.” Glenn leaned against the door jam.

Harper took off Jessica's diaper. Glenn lifted the lid of the garbage can. Harper dropped the diaper inside. Glenn closed the lid. He covered his mouth and gagged.

In a minute, Harper had the baby in fresh pajamas and tucked next to his ribs. The three of them made for the kitchen.

“Better have some breakfast. Get something in your stomach.” Harper washed one hand after the other in the kitchen sink, juggled Jessica from one arm to the next, filled the coffee maker with water, and reached for a filter.

Glenn sat down and put his head on the table. “They say he had his music on.”

“What?” Harper measured out the coffee. “What are you talking about?”

Glenn lifted his head.

Harper closed the lid on the coffee machine, turned it on, and sat down across from Glenn.

Glenn smiled at Jessica. “Her eyes are closing.”

Harper waited.

Glenn's smile died. “Steven had his music turned way up so he couldn't hear the train. Don't know how he ignored the vibration, the horn, or the headlight.”

“He was your friend?”

Jessica pulled at the hairs on Harper's arm.

Glenn nodded. There were tears in his eyes.

The coffee maker spluttered.

“Any idea why?” Harper kept his voice low.

“He knew that I'm gay. We used to talk about it. He told me how his parents were pretty religious and opinionated about lifestyle choices, if you know what I mean.” Glenn's eyes were red-rimmed as he looked at his uncle.

“You mean they were homophobes?” Harper gently caressed Jessica's head with his lips. Her eyes closed.

“Yep. Anyway, he was feeling down about a week ago. I saw him at school after an exam. We chatted for a few minutes, then he left. That was the last time I saw him. I got a call yesterday. The funeral date hasn't been set yet.”

“You're not responsible.” Harper stood up.

“Remember when I dressed up in drag for Halloween, and the principal told me to change or go home?”

For a moment Harper thought Glenn was going to laugh and say, “Change into what? I mean I am who I am, right?”

Instead, Glenn said, “Steven was the one who told me to come to school the next day dressed in that three-piece pinstriped business suit. He told me it would make a statement louder than any argument. He taught me
how to fight back. Even brought me an old black leather briefcase to carry with the suit.”

“It's not your fault.” Harper moved closer to Glenn.

Glenn shrugged. His eyes filled with tears. His hands covered his face and he began to sob. Glenn woke Jessica, who began to cry in sympathy. Harper stood there in the middle of the kitchen, not knowing what to do next.

WEDNESDAY, JULY 3

Unsolved disappearances and the discovery of the body of an as yet unidentified white male have created ripples within the city and surrounding communities. The unsolved disappearances of Ryan Dudley and Tyler McNally have been overshadowed by the discovery of a third body. Dudley competed as a bull rider before his disappearance. McNally often accompanied Dudley on the rodeo circuit. Both men lived together.

A roommate of the two men, Blake Rogers, said, “Duds was a real competitor. He and Tyler were real tight. Whoever is behind what happened to them better be careful. Cowboys are slow to get mad, but once that happens, watch out.”

Questions were raised by representatives of the Calgary Stampede Board. They expressed concern that patrons may stay away from this year's Stampede due to security concerns. As a result, fifty more security guards have been hired. Also, there will be an increased police presence on the grounds.

Lane thought,
You look like hell
. “How's the coffee?”

Harper and Lane sat across from one another in a coffee shop at the edge of town. Kuldeep was behind the counter. She smiled as she served the coffee. She thanked them in a now familiar voice that was one part music and one part English.

Harper looked over his double espresso as he took a sip and burned his tongue. He shook his head. They sat next to the window. The morning sun warmed the east side of their faces.

“Rough night?” Lane asked.

Harper looked back at Lane as if to say, “You don't know the half of it.”

“Want to talk?” Lane asked.

“Did you read about the kid hit by the train down by Edworthy Park?”

Lane felt a sense of dread working its way up from his belly. “Yes.”

“It was a friend of Glenn's. Name was Steven. Apparently the kid was talking about coming out. Glenn thinks the talk didn't go well with Steven's parents so he killed himself. Glenn's blaming himself.”

“Believe me, Glenn's not responsible.” Lane looked through Harper and into the past where memories of other tragedies created whitewater waves around boulders in the treacherous river of his early years.

“I guess Steven put his headphones on, turned up the music, and walked down the railway tracks.” Harper put his cup down. “It happened a couple of nights ago.”

Lane couldn't think of anything to say, opened his mouth to say something anyway, then shut it.

“There's nothing you can say.” Harper looked out the window. “Jessica and Glenn cried off and on for a couple of hours this morning. One would stop and the other would get started again. Erinn slept through the whole thing.”

“Matt wants a dog,” Lane said.

“What?” Harper looked at Lane like he hadn't heard correctly.

“We have to go to the animal shelter tonight to look for a dog.”

“Oh?” It was Harper's turn to be lost for words. He remembered what happened during last October's snowstorm and what he'd found when he went looking for Lane's dog, Riley.

“I don't know,” Lane said.

“Man, you've been weird ever since the sweat lodge.”

Thankfully, Lane's phone rang. “Hello.”

Lane looked at Harper. “We're on our way.”

Fifteen silent minutes later, they were headed west toward the mountains, the very edge of town where the city and the country rubbed up against one another. Lane noticed a gas station on the north side of the highway as they passed it. It was a rare example of nineteen fifties' architecture. The metal shone and the stucco had a fresh coat of white paint.
I wonder how
long before it gets torn down?
he thought.

Lane looked down the two lane highway. He broke the silence, picking up where their conversation had ended at the coffee shop. “How weird have I been acting?”

“Out there. Distracted. You know, distant. Thinking about something else all the time. What happened to you?”

Lane thought for a minute. “I still haven't figured that out. When I do, I'll let you know.”

Harper decided not to push it. “Is Fibre gonna be there?”

“He's on his way.”

They turned south onto the gravel road leading to Blake Rogers' acreage.

Lane could feel the sweat gathering along his hairline when they got out of the air-conditioned car and faced Blake's ranch-style house with its red brick front. He stood next to the car and waited for Rosco the German shepherd. In the quiet, he listened to the ticking of the car's cooling engine. He heard Harper moving his feet on the gravel. Lane looked across at his partner. Harper was checking and rechecking every shrub, every corner, every bit of cover where someone might hide near the ranch house.

Blake opened the door. Lane watched him step out into the sun. Again, Blake was dressed in black. He put on his black stetson.

“Morning detectives. It's Harper and?…” Blake motioned with his right hand.

“Detective Lane,” Harper said.

“We need to go around back.” Blake led the way to the south side of the house.

Lane looked at the Quonset and corral. There were no horses or cattle. Grass grew knee-high inside the fence. He could see no evidence of trampled or grazed grass.

They followed Blake around to the back of the house.

“Didn't find these ‘til this morning. I got up and went to check the yard.” Blake pointed at the white vinyl siding.

“Where's Rosco?” Lane asked.

Blake looked away. “Don't know.”

Lane and Harper looked back at the house. The bullet holes were relatively evenly spaced, working their way from the lower north side of the wall up to where one round had shattered a roof tile at the south peak of one gable. Lane counted five bullet holes.

“Didn't hit any windows.” Harper looked at Blake before looking back at Lane with his best “I don't buy it” look.

“That's why I didn't notice it last night,” Blake said.

Lane walked north to the stacked round bails about twenty metres from the north end of the house.

“There's a guy who cuts the hay for us. He takes a percentage for his cattle. Duds liked to feed it to his horse.” Blake followed along behind Lane.

Harper followed Blake.

Lane turned and studied the ground.

Blake said, “What you lookin' for?” “Whatever is here.” Lane said the words without looking back at Blake.

“Does Rosco do this often?” Lane looked at the ground while listening intently to Blake's tone of voice.
He's not so cocky all of a sudden
, Lane thought.
What's caused the change in behaviour?

“What? What are you talkin' about?” Blake asked.

“Does Rosco often disappear for a day or two?” Harper asked.

“You never can tell about a dog.” Blake delivered the reply like a joke.

“Dogs get hungry.” Lane stopped, looked back at the house to get his bearings. He looked at the stack of bails. One sat on its end while the others lay on their sides stacked end to end, making one long cylinder. He spotted a glint of something on the upright bail. He walked to the stack. The hay crop whispered against his pant legs as he moved. The ground was uneven and soft underfoot.

“What do you see?” Blake's voice was pitched higher.

Harper and Blake followed until they stood next to Lane by the bail. Lane reached over and pointed at a dime-sized piece of glass at the top of the bail. He showed it to Harper.

Harper looked at Blake. “Do you do any target shooting?”

“Never.” Blake shook his head emphatically.

“The forensic team will be here soon. We'll wait for them.” Lane looked down and found a shard of glass about a metre from the bail.

“You know who did this, don't you?” Blake asked.

“Nope,” Harper said.

“It's obvious. Eva Starchild's been behind this from the beginning.” Blake folded his arms, then leaned defiantly against a bail.

Harper drove into Eva's back yard. There was one car parked near the garage.

Lane looked at the fire pit where the rocks for the sweat lodge were heated. The air above the pit wasn't wavering from the heat.

“Think she heard us comin'?” Harper smiled before calling in their location.

To Lane's ears, the Chev's doors sounded unnaturally loud when they closed.

Their feet crunched on the sand and gravel driveway.

The first rap of Harper's knuckles made the back door shudder. He looked over his shoulder at Lane, then tapped with a polite tattoo.

Eva opened the door, smiled then nodded at Lane as if to say, “I've been expecting you.”

“Can we talk with you?” Lane asked.

“Come.” Eva was wearing a blue nightgown and a white hand-knit sweater. She turned, then walked up the stairs and into the kitchen.

Lane stepped inside and looked at the landing. Pairs of shoes lay scattered there. He looked at Eva's feet. She wore slippers.

Lane bent to untie his shoes. He turned to Harper who looked at Lane, uncertain what to do next. They looked up the stairs. Eva was watching.

Harper took his shoes off.

Eva smiled. “Just cleaned the floor yesterday.”

Lane looked at the green linoleum. It shone despite the patches where traffic had worn it down to the black. He stepped inside the kitchen and noticed the pot of
coffee on the stove. There was the scent of something else too.
Baking in the oven
, Lane thought.

“Coffee?” Eva asked.

“Sure,” Lane said.

“Cream? Sugar?” Eva opened the cupboard.

“Please,” Harper said.

“Sit.” Eva cocked her head to the right.

Lane and Harper sat down at the kitchen table in one of the eight assorted wooden chairs surrounding it. The pictures of hummingbirds, Aidan and Alex, Norm on a brand new all-terrain vehicle and a dancing Alex hung on the wall behind Harper.

Harper watched Lane, who looked back with a blank expression.
Just be patient
, Lane thought and hoped Harper got the message.

Eva brought sugar and a jug of milk to the table along with three coffee cups of assorted colours and designs. She poured coffee before returning to the stove. Fresh-baked muffins and butter appeared. “Been expecting you.”