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“What’s the house number?” Gibson asked as they approached Henderson Road.
Scottie took out her notebook from a top pocket and tossed it over. At the front of the pad were the contacts compiled from the interviews. Gibson ran his finger down the list and found Robbie and Ellen Spencer.
“107.”
Children were playing outside on the lawn as they pulled up to the curb. More kids and a dog rushed around the corner of the house. The long-haired beast bounced wildly from person to person. Laughter echoed throughout the neighbourhood. They walked down the pavement past all the pandemonium and up the stairs to the veranda. Trying to force back their sombre mood, they stopped for a moment to brace themselves. Mayhem usually followed lousy news. Scottie rang the doorbell and then stepped aside. The door was open by a six-year-old girl with curly blonde hair and bright eyes. She remained motionless in her pink frock and lacy socks pulled up tight.
“Hello there,” Gibson said. “Is your mom home?”
“Mm-huh,” the little girl said timidly, swaying back and forth on her tippy-toes.
“Lily. Who is it?” A shout came from the rear.
The little girl continued to dance on her toes. Her mother approached from the hallway and halted when she saw them. Neither Gibson nor Scottie wore uniforms, but their suits and haircuts gave away their identity.
“Has something happened?” Ellen stepped forward, her body stiffening. She had short-cropped red hair that ended bluntly at the nape. Her youthful complexion was rosy and makeup free. She stood stoically waiting to hear what tragedy had befallen her family. Her skin paled and the lines around her eyes deepened.
“May we come in?”
“This way.”
They accompanied her down the cramped hallway, dodging the abandoned toys and boxes. The dim lighting and bare walls gave the appearance of neglect. But then they reached a doorway that opened into a bright and cheery kitchen filled with the delicious smell of cookies and hot chocolate. The girl had followed them into this inviting area.
“Go watch a little TV, Lily. Then we’ll have treats,” Ellen urged. “Okay?” It almost turned into a plea as her voice rose two octaves. She smiled warmly after Lily as she left the room.
“Robbie is dead. We’re sorry for your loss,” Gibson said. There was no easy way.
Ellen let out the smallest of sobs and crumpled into a chair. Outside they could pick up the glees of children playing and the dog yapping. Inside, Ellen had gone quiet. Her entire face seemed drained, aging ten years as the moments ticked along.
“He was murdered.”
“Murdered? Why?”
“Did Robbie have any enemies at work? Anyone who would want to harm him?”
“No.” Her facial muscles were slack and her eyes had stopped blinking.
Gibson wasn’t sure if she felt everything or nothing.
Lily had come back into the room and settled her head on her mother’s lap. Ellen stroked her soft baby curls tenderly and spoke softly. Gibson thought she was singing a lullaby. She looked up at him with mournful eyes.
“The guys are always picking on him. About his biking and his shorts…” she said. “Was it one of them?”
“We don’t know.”
“What will I do?” She breathed in deeply.
“Is there someone we can call?”
“No. We’ll be okay. I need to be alone now.” She pushed a lock of hair from Lily’s face.
“We’ll see ourselves out,” Gibson said.
The detectives walked down the hallway. A short sob followed them out and then stopped almost at once. They stepped outside to the children still playing on the front lawn, rolling over each other like steam shovels and falling apart with laughter.
Chapter 12
The rain stopped late that afternoon. Heavy clouds had broken up, leaving behind a few lonely sentinels above. The sun, angled low in the autumn sky, shone pale against the dark blue backdrop. Gibson breathed a sigh of relief when he rounded the final corner to his house. A beacon set up high on a pole gleamed brightly at the end of the driveway. He had installed it when they had first moved here. The light had transformed the sombre, narrow lane into a safe, inviting road. He pulled into the drive and killed the engine. The glow of the lights that streamed from within the home beckoned him in. He got out of his F150 and paused, taking in the loveliness of the neighbourhood. He could hear the peaceful lapping of waves on the shoreline below, the twittering of birds as they dashed from tree to tree and an occasional slam of a door in the distance. A barely perceptible current of air from the Southeast crept up the bank and touched his cheek.
“Hi, Katherine,” Gibson called out as he stepped through the door. Spicy aromas wafted from the back. She appeared in the kitchen entrance with a flour-dusted apron hung from her waist and spoon clutched in hand.
“You’re just in time.”
“Whatever it is, smells fantastic,” he said as he removed his boots and coat. He gave her a tender hug and caressed her ear with his cool lips.
“It is fantastic.”
“Can I help with anything?” It was really a rhetorical question.
“Go wash up and I’ll serve gourmet delights,” she said with a grin, turning back to the kitchen.
After dinner Katherine cleared the table. Then she busied herself arranging appetizers on china platters and uncorking several bottles of Okanagan red wine for the evening’s company. Gibson got a fire started in the airtight. Before long it blazed brightly, heating the living room and spilling the warmth throughout the house. He helped himself to a beer and sat back to unwind after a harrowing day. Their guests were expected within the hour. The finches chirped happily in the corner. A sharp tap on the door stirred Gibson from his nap. He hauled himself off the couch and answered the summons.
“Welcome.”
Andrew and Heather stood on the stoop, arm in arm, and all smiles.
“Hello,” Heather said. She hugged him and headed for the kitchen.
“Hi there,” Andrew shouted down the hallway to Katherine. He gave Gibson a hardy handshake.
“Make yourself at home. Gibson will get you a drink,” Katherine yelled back.
“Like she had to tell me that.”
They glanced at each other and chuckled. Andrew settled into the cushions of the cozy sofa. Immediately his attention was drawn to the fireplace, the golden flames flickering wildly behind glass doors. His eyelids drooped as the mesmerizing fire danced, sending out waves of warmth.
“Yeah. I fell asleep right there,” Gibson said. He was seated in a chair farthest from the heat. A precaution for staying awake.
Soon they were all hunkered down and comfortably immersed in conversation, sipping their drinks and sampling the finger food. This evening Katherine had her hair pinned up with rhinestone clips. A deep shade of metallic bronze eye shadow highlighted the brown cascades of curls bouncing off her shoulders. She wore casual jeans and a rich cocoa coloured sweater, looking serene and snug sunk into the over-stuffed loveseat with her friend leaning into her.
“Andrew was telling us about his blog today,” Katherine said.
“That’s right,” Andrew confirmed. “Sex and death.”
“We got sidetracked,” Heather spoke up. “Tell us more.”
“She means gossipy details.” Katherine struggled to keep a straight face but failed. Heather stuck her tongue out.
“Read the blog.” Andrew chuckled.
Katherine punched his arm. Heather flashed her saucy smile.
“Any details you can share about what happened today?” Heather asked.
“We just got started so there are lots of leads we have to follow.” Gibson hedged, not wanting to share his thoughts.
“Who was murdered?” Andrew blurted out and promptly bit his lip. Damn.
“It was Robbie Spencer. Medium height, sandy blonde hair. Works for maintenance. Do you know him?”
“No. I don’t think so,” Andrew said, letting out a big sigh
of relief.
“This is getting too morbid. Let’s go for a walk.” Katherine stood up and stretched. She tugged on Heather’s hand to get her moving. “It’s stifling in here.”
She was greeted with groans all round. But gradually, they bundled up to enjoy a stroll along the waterway. The moon was high in the sky, lighting up the route, the trees and the distant snow-capped mountains.
Gibson wondered about his brother-in-law. Was something going on?
* * *
