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“Yikes,” Scottie said. “Any reason to check other neighbours?”
“I don’t think so.”
They walked away from the house and hopped into the truck. Scottie fired up the engine and headed down Henderson. She took the university circle road to the homeless camp. As she drove, her fingers lightly skimmed the steering wheel.
“It doesn’t seem like Ellen had anything to do with Robbie’s death.”
“Without meaning to sound sexist, I don’t think this was a woman’s crime,” Gibson said. He blushed somewhat. “What can I say?” He shot her a sideways glance.
Scottie grinned at his discomfort but conceded the killer was probably a man. It would take a strong person to swing that bat and produce that much harm, although she would be capable of just that.
“Jeff is a hefty guy but on the short side.” Then after a moment she added, “Guess that wouldn’t matter. The ME said that Robbie may have been tying his shoelaces.”
“There’s that.”
“And he has a compelling motive. Money.”
“Maybe so.”
Scottie parked the truck on the street by the university, and they strolled across the expansive lawn. Although it was green, the autumn rains had made the ground soggy. As Gibson stepped around the waterlogged bits, he realized the light had dimmed considerably since morning. He peered up and saw the clouds had blackened and were closing in to create one ominous mass.
An assortment of cans, empty cigarette packages and debris littered the path leading through the bushes. As they approached the clearing partially hidden by a large willow tree, they could see a circle of mates smoking and chatting. The men were seated on rotted stumps and makeshift chairs made from wooden boxes. The first rustle of branches pushed aside alerted them, and all talk ceased. The detectives stepped into the open space, two imposing figures with the air of authority swirling around them.
“It’s okay. We’re not here to hassle anybody. Who got beat up last night?”
No reply.
“What’s it to you?” someone shouted in a gruff voice.
“Was it Pete? We talked to him about the murder already.”
“Yeah. But he’s missing,” a man in a tattered shirt answered.
“Missing?”
“Yeah. Gone,” another snickered.
Gibson tugged at Scottie’s sleeve to signal the futility of talking to these guys. They wouldn’t be opening up any time soon to the police. They headed back to the vehicle.
“Did the guy see something?”
“Don’t know. Nobody’s telling,” Gibson answered, exasperated at the lack of cooperation from Pete’s buddies. His cell buzzed as they pulled up to Jeff’s driveway. “Okay. Yes.” He rang off.
“Well. What?”
“We got ID on the prints from the bat,” Gibson said. “Robbie, Tim, one unknown and our friend Jeff.”
“Two strikes,” Scottie said. She pressed the bell, leaning into it hard.
“What the hell?” Jeff appeared at the door dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt. His hair looked clean and combed today. He turned toward the living room, and they followed him. It was smoky as ever. Scottie clamped her mouth shut. They stood in a semi-circle prepared to spar.
“Is the bat yours?” Gibson snapped, ready to strike the first blow.
“Okay. You got me. It’s my bat. Those are my initials.” Jeff sneered.
“Your prints are on it as well.” That was really a moot point.
“So what! I lent it to Robbie last week.”
“Why did you lie to us?”
“I didn’t want to get involved.”
“You know you’re in Robbie’s will to inherit a nice chunk of cash.”
“Good. I’m broke.”
“Ellen told us you already knew,” Gibson countered.
Jeff looked back at him with narrowed eyes, not prepared to admit anything.
“And you have no one to establish your whereabouts Monday morning?”
“How could I? I live alone,” Jeff repeated. He backed away in quick jerky steps.
“One, your bat. Two, get money. Three, no alibi.” Scottie numbered off on her fingers, staring squarely into Jeff’s eyes, one brown, one blue—heterochromia.
Then they heard the rain hit the roof with a deafening outburst.
Chapter 19
The ride home couldn’t have been much more treacherous. Heavy rainfall and wind with gusts up to sixty kilometres blew against the windshield, making visibility almost non-existent. Scottie gripped the steering wheel firmly with both hands, tilted forward toward the glass. Each swipe of the wipers cleared the view for only seconds. She peered ahead with eyes squinted, a large frown encasing her face. Gibson maintained a lookout for dashing pedestrians and bicycles fighting the storm. Soon they were on the freeway. Water surging down the hard surface made the roads slick. Several times they sped through puddles pooled in low spots, shooting a rooster tail tumbling over the vehicle behind them. They got nailed with a few themselves, offering a fleeting glimpse of driving underwater.
“Thanks for running me around while my truck was getting repaired,” Gibson said when they arrived at the garage in Brentwood Bay.
“No problem,” Scottie replied and drove off.
After a brief chat with the mechanic, Gibson got into his F150 and motored on home. The sheets of rain had tamed down to a drizzle, and then stopped by the time he parked in his driveway. A pool of white light lapped around the lamp. He looked across the street. Sea smoke that develops when frigid air passes over warm water obscured the bay. The fog rested only ten metres above the surface, allowing the cell tower beacon on the Malahat to glow through. He watched, mesmerized by the swirls of mist dancing in the cove. Then he realized how late it was and tore from his trance.
“Hello,” he shouted out for Katherine as he tripped into the house.
She tiptoed out of the kitchen looking frazzled. He saw the characteristic display of panic. The ragged breathing, the black shadows beneath the eyes and the collapsed stance were all present.
“How did the studying go today?”
“Okay, I guess.” She rested against the doorframe with one foot planted on top of the other. Her hair tumbled forward partially covering her face.
He reached over and placed his hand under her chin, lifting gently until their eyes engaged, her dark chocolate brown to his deep charcoal.
“We’re meeting Andrew in an hour. The break will do you good,” he said.
“Can’t we cancel? The final exam is just days away.”
To Katherine, graduating seemed the only way to quell her fears—her attacks.
Gibson saw the tension in her shoulders and her shallow breathing quicken.
“I’m buying.” Just a tickle of silliness.
A tiniest of smiles twitched at the corner of her mouth. She tried to suppress it with her hand. She pressed into him, lips brushed against his neck. He tightened his hold on her slender frame. They remained embraced for several minutes. He could sense her body release as her unease subsided. Her softness against the strength of his chest was intoxicating. They drew apart and gazed at each other. They dropped hands, and he stroked her hair.
“Better get moving before I run into trouble.” Gibson lifted his eyebrows suggestively. ‘You know what I mean.’
The grin that had begun at Katherine’s mouth reached upwards and created small creases in the outer corners of her eyes, making them sparkle.
They touched fingertips one more time.
“Should we get ready then?”
They stepped out the front door and clambered into the F150. Dense clouds overshadowed the sky, giving only brief glimpses of the moon. It was still early evening and growing chilly. Katherine pulled her wooll
y coat firmly around her slim body. The traffic was thin as they cruised down the highway to Oak Bay. Soft music filled the cab, blending with the rhythmic percussion of the tires. Gibson parked on Beach Street, and they strode down the pavement holding hands.
* * *
The Cove Pub in the Ocean Tides Hotel was Andrew’s favourite inn—fish and chips, beer on tap and expansive vistas. Harris Island and the Chain Islets were easily viewed through the large windows. Andrew enjoyed it all while he sipped his brew and waited for the gang to arrive. From his booth, he could see the lighthouse beacon on Discovery Island. It swept a light at regular intervals across the ocean waters and marked the border between Canada and the United States. The Marine Provincial Park was on this isle. The adjacent islands were part of the ecological reserve that preserved the sensitive seabird nesting areas. Boaters paddled along the shoreline, respecting the biological diversity of the west coast. They were eager to capture a glimpse of seals, sea lions and bald eagles. He knew Gibson kayaked throughout here frequently.
He spotted his sister as soon as she entered the room. Shiny cascades of coffee brown hair tumbled over a bronze scarf wrapped around the upturned collar and onto her shoulders. The dark pencil skirt and alligator shoes with tall, thin heels portrayed a strong, confident woman. But Katherine’s compressed lips betrayed her frailty, her uneasiness. He recognized this in her when most would not. He thought people would notice only her physical allure and the elegance of her spirit that radiated through her soulful eyes. She was damaged inside.
Gibson placed his palm on Katherine’s elbow and guided them through the narrow aisles to the booth. He drew his fair share of attention too. The crisp white shirt under a baby blue cashmere sweater and tight black jeans spoke smart and easygoing. His bent nose and the quirky smile added to his mystique, noticeably to the fairer sex. They presented an image of the ideal couple.
Andrew watched as they approached the booth. His sagacity of human behaviour made him aware that we all had flaws. He wondered if Gibson’s veneer of serenity would break down. So far none had surfaced from his genial although solemn disposition.
