Black Fly Season (27 page)

‘Kevin’s away right now.’

‘Away where?’

‘How should I know?’

‘Terri, I’m just trying to help you. Your brother has been involved in narcotics in the past. He could have some connection with whoever tried to kill you.’

‘I told you, I don’t remember anything about that. Are you going to arrest me for trespassing or something?’

‘I don’t want to arrest you, I’m trying to protect you.’

‘Why? What do you care? You don’t even know me.’

‘I know that. I need to know you better. I can’t help you if I don’t. Tell me why you’re still here. You said your brother is away. Does that mean he’s here? Look, I can find out from the phone company where he’s dialling from, so you may as well tell me. Is that why you came to Algonquin Bay? To find your brother? If he’s not here, why are you still here?’

Terri folded her arms across her chest and looked away from him.

‘Look at me, Terri. Is your brother here in town? Is that why you’re here?’

‘It’s really none of your business.’

‘I think he’s here. I think he’s what drew you back here. And I think you know where he is.’

‘I don’t.’

‘I need to talk to him, Terri. He’s involved in the heroin trade - it can be a violent line of work. He could even be the one who tried to kill you.’

‘He isn’t.’

‘You don’t know that. You don’t know who shot you.’

‘I know it wasn’t Kevin.’

‘Tell me something. You said you were staying in a motel by the lake. I don’t suppose you remember the name of that place yet, do you?’

‘No, I don’t, as a matter of fact.’

‘Reason I ask, we don’t seem able to locate that motel.’

‘This is northern Ontario, right? There’s lots of motels by lakes.’

‘Here in Algonquin Bay there are exactly twelve. We’ve talked to all of them and none of them remember any red-haired young woman who suddenly disappeared.’

‘So, it was a different motel. A different lake. What do I know? I haven’t lived here for a long time.’

‘There are no motels on the other lakes. See, here’s what I think’s going on - you tell me if I’m wrong: I think you came back here to find your brother. I think he’s still here and you intend to find him. I think you remember exactly where he was. You don’t want to tell me, and I can only assume that’s because he’s involved in criminal activity. I don’t care about that, you understand? That isn’t what I’m interested in right now. I just want to get whoever tried to kill you off the streets.’

‘Detective, last week I got shot in the head. My memory is not what it should be. Why can’t you accept that?’

‘Dr Paley says it’s unheard of for a person with your injuries to remember some things and not others. It all comes back at once, not in these convenient little packages you’re offering up.’

‘Dr Paley doesn’t know what I think or what I remember.’

‘And that’s very useful when you want to hide something, isn’t it.’

‘You should know. You’re the detective.’

‘Well, here’s something you should know, Terri. Whoever put a bullet in your head just did the same to someone else. Only this young man wasn’t as lucky as you. He got two in the head from the same gun and he’s dead, Terri.’

Cardinal was not at all sure it was the right move to make just then, but he turned from her and went to the front door. He snapped open the locks and went outside.

Follow me, he silently urged her. You must be desperate to know. Follow me.

He opened his car door, but before he could get in, she called after him.

‘Wait!’

She came running down the front steps in bare feet.

‘Detective, wait!’

Cardinal got in the car and started the engine.

Terri threw open the passenger door and got in beside him.

‘Who was it?’ Her pale skin had turned even paler. ‘The guy who was killed. Who was it?’

‘We don’t know that yet.’

The green eyes were bright with panic.

‘Oh, God, you have to tell me! How old was he? What did he look like? Was he thin and sort of gangly?’

Cardinal opened his briefcase and pulled out a forensic photo.The smashed head, the pool of blood.

Terri covered her mouth.

‘Is it your brother?’

She shook her head, still covering her mouth. Cardinal hoped she wasn’t going to vomit in his car.

‘This guy was mid to late twenties. About fivefoot five. Light brown hair.’

She let go of the breath she had been holding. ‘It wasn’t Kevin. Kevin’s younger. And he’s nearly six feet tall.’

‘It could’ve been you or your brother,’ Cardinal said gently. ‘Whoever did this made absolutely certain this time. The gun they’re using is malfunctioning and it looks like they finally figured that out. When the bullets didn’t kill him they busted him over the head with a baseball bat. The next time I get called to a scene like that I don’t want it to be your brother and I especially don’t want it to be you.’

Terri was sitting back against the seat now. She looked exhausted.

‘You don’t want me to ask any more questions, I won’t ask any. But get your shoes, and I’ll take you someplace safe.’

Terri stared straight ahead. It’s now or never, Cardinal thought. She’ll either come with me now or I’ve truly lost her. ‘Not the hospital?’ Her voice was barely audible. ‘Not the hospital.’

‘Where have you been?’ Delorme said,

the moment Cardinal got back to the station. ‘We’ve been buzzing you.’

‘I’ve been over at the Crisis Centre,’ he said. ‘I found Terri Tait.’

‘You found Terri Tait.’ Delorme raised one eyebrow, the little checkmark injury was fading. ‘How did you find her?’

‘School records. I also looked up her brother, Kevin Tait. Turns out he did two years for intent to traffic in heroin, and I think he’s here in town.’

‘That’s why she’s been holding back on us. She doesn’t want her brother to end up doing serious time.’

‘Why were you buzzing me?’

‘We got an ID back from Forensics. They got a match on the teeth. Have you ever run into a character named Morris Tilley? Also known as “Toof” - which is why odontology was able to identify him so fast. He had an extra incisor.’

‘Don’t know him.’

‘Of course not. You, you don’t work the small stuff. Seems we’ve pulled Morris Tilley in at least

three times, maybe more, mostly for theft under. He’s also been known to sell dope, mostly grass. Morris Tilley’s problem is he’s a hundred per cent weed junkie. We haven’t heard from him for nearly a year, though.’

‘Maybe he decided to go straight.’

‘Hah, hah. He didn’t have any means of support other than dope or pool hustling.’

‘Have you notified the parents yet?’

Delorme gave him her sweetest smile; that always meant there was something unpleasant coming up.

‘Parent,’ she corrected him. ‘I was hoping you’d come with me.’

The Tilley home was located on Main West behind the Country Style Donuts parking lot. Owing to the national obsession with deep-fried pastry, this parking lot was the fastest expanding piece of real estate in town, devouring in its quest a limestone convent, several small stores, and a brace of Edwardian houses. The Tilley address was fifty yards west, amid a block of red-brick houses that had recently sprouted ugly storefronts: Deirdre’s Beauty Shoppe, Polar Air Conditioning, and Prent & Polone Attorneys at Law.

It sometimes happens that a violent crime will lead police to a good address, a household of well mannered people with degrees from the best universities; Cardinal had been to one or two such

scenes himself. But they’re rare. The murder of Morris Tilley was the more common variety.

His mother let them into the front hall. It was a dark, close space and the air had the slightly mouldy, old-fabric smell of the lowest-end thrift shops. Mrs Tilley herself was a small, sparrow like woman in faded flower print, who squinted at them behind pointy glasses.

Cardinal introduced himself and Delorme.

‘Mrs Tilley, are you the mother of Morris Tilley?’

‘Yes. Is Morris in trouble again? He doesn’t mean to get into trouble. He just doesn’t think, you know? He gets excited about something and then he just gets carried away. And that marijuana never did anything good for him. Other mothers complain that their kids are addicted to video games or their computers and I would give anything if Morris would take up an interest like that. I mean, he discovered marijuana when he was twelve and he’s been in a fog ever since. But he doesn’t mean any harm. Really, he doesn’t. He’s a good boy. Man, I mean. Though he’s still a boy in lots of ways. What’s he done, now? Nothing serious, I hope.’

‘I’m afraid we have some much worse news, Mrs Tilley. Perhaps you’d better sit down.’

‘Yes, of course. Let’s go in the living room.’

The thrift-store smell was even stronger in the living room. A brown vinyl rocker listed to one side, and the overstuffed couch appeared to have been savaged at both ends by a Bengal tiger.

‘Would you like some tea? Some coffee?’

‘No, thank you. Please sit down, Mrs Tilley.’

Mrs Tilley wobbled a little, and the colour drained from her face as if someone had pulled a plug in her feet. She lowered herself to the torn sofa and folded her hands neatly on her lap.

‘I’m afraid Morris is dead, Mrs Tilley.’ Cardinal’s heart was pounding. He would never get used to this. ‘Someone killed him.’

‘Killed him?’

‘I’m very sorry.’

Mrs Tilley turned to Delorme, as if a woman might talk more sense.

‘Why would anyone kill Morris? Morris is Morris gets along with - Morris wouldn’t hurt a fly. He smokes too much marijuana, that’s true. And he doesn’t seem able to hold a job, but the economy hasn’t been good, you know. And Morris is very picky; he won’t take just anything. But he doesn’t get into fights. It can’t be Morris. There’s a mix-up somewhere, you’ll see. You’ve got the wrong person.’

‘His identity was confirmed through dental records,’ Delorme said. ‘His teeth. Your son had an extra incisor, I believe?’

The pause that followed was brief, the silence deep. Somewhere a clock was ticking: one second, two seconds, three. And then Mrs Tilley’s howl split the air. It was loud, long, and from a distance might have been canine. She gulped for air, almost choked, and let out another howl that hurt

Cardinal’s ears not so much because of the

volume, which was intense, but because the long, unearthly wail seemed to carry with it all the suffering of all human hearts.

Delorme came back from the kitchen with a glass of water; Cardinal hadn’t even noticed her get up. It took a while, but Delorme eventually managed to get the woman calmed down. The howls subsided into sobs, the sobs into soundless tears, and finally she was able to speak.

‘I’ll need to see him,’ she said. ‘I won’t fully believe it, otherwise.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Delorme said. ‘We can arrange it with the Forensics Centre in Toronto, if you like. Or they can make arrangements with whichever funeral home you prefer and you can see him here.’

This brought on a fresh round of tears. It was Cardinal’s experience that allowing grief to take too full a hold could make getting information impossible. At the risk of seeming callous, he broke in with the first question.

‘Mrs Tilley, when did you last see your son?’

‘Quite recently. Two or three months ago.’

‘Two or three months?’

‘Well, two months. Morris gets very involved in things. In his projects and so on and then I don’t see him for a few months. Then one day I’ll come home from Loblaw’s and there he’ll be at the kitchen table, wolfing down a sandwich, happy as a clam. He’s a good son. He’ll bring me flowers sometimes. Tulips it was, last time. He knows I love tulips. His brothers never bring flowers.’

‘The last address we have for him is Marsden Road,’ Delorme said. ‘Up in Greenwood?’

‘Yes, that’s right. He shares a place with some friends.’

‘How did he seem when you saw him?’

‘Oh, the usual. Morris doesn’t change. He’s been the same since he was twelve. Happy go lucky. A little thoughtless. A bit … lost, sometimes. I blame the marijuana for that. He was telling me he was making some good money.’

‘Good money doing what?’

‘Working for a trucking firm. Loading and unloading. Nothing fancy, but it was a paycheck.’

‘Did he mention who he was working with?’

‘No. No, he just said it was a good outfit. That’s the way he put it. He said, “Ma, I’m finally with a good outfit. I’m in on the ground floor.” Not that I believed it would get him anywhere. He never sticks with anything. But I was glad he had some money in his pocket. He even brought me some. Didn’t say anything, but after he was gone I found a hundred-dollar bill under the cookie tin.’

‘Did you ever see any of the people he worked with, or any of his friends?’

‘No. Well, only one. A boy named Sam he would bring round every once in a while. The two of them would sit in the kitchen and polish off a dozen cookies at a go. Hermits were his favourite - you know, cinnamon and raisin and not too sweet? Oh, there’s no keeping those in the house when Morris is around.’

‘What was Sam’s last name, Mrs Tilley, do you know?’

‘No, I’m sorry, I don’t. Not a bad-looking boy.’

‘Can you give us a description?’

‘He’s pale. Very dark hair and very pale skin. He’s shorter than me, and I’m only five-three in stocking feet.’

‘That wouldn’t be Sami Deans, would it?’ Delorme said. ‘Stocky and sort of bewilderedlooking?’

‘Well, you could say that. I never knew his last name, but Morris certainly called him Sammy all the time, as if he was a little kid. Of course it was Morris who never grew up. I suppose he never will, now.’

Mrs Tilley hid her eyes and cried into her hand for a few moments. Delorme found a box of Kleenex somewhere.

‘Mrs Tilley, are you absolutely sure you don’t remember meeting any of Morris’ other friends or co-workers?’ Cardinal said. ‘It’s terribly important.’

‘Morris didn’t tend to bring people round, I’m afraid. Never did. He’s a sociable boy, but at the end of the day he always tended to come home alone - even when he was quite little.’