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He made his way to the faculty parking lot. Sitting on the tarmac was a new Mustang with a polish that reflected the grey sky. Somehow owning this beast and teaching philosophy clashed in the universe. Did he care? He opened the door and slid into the bucket seat. A motor whirred softly and moved the seat to its preset position. He ran his hand along the soft leather. No. He didn’t care. The engine roared to life with a throaty sound. He put it into first gear and took the boulevard road out of the university grounds to Cordova Bay Road.
Within fifteen minutes, he was almost at the Sandy Beach Restaurant. It was on the main thoroughfare, so he cruised slowly, scouting for a safe place to park, hoping to avoid door dings. Finally he found the spot he wanted and pulled in. He looked at his watch and realized he was running late. Hurrying, he crossed the road to the restaurant and stepped inside. The panorama view overlooked a pristine bay and stretched on forever on sunny days. Fog hid the farthest landfall now. The beach was filled with logs, blown in by the many fall storms. The yellow sand was soft to walk on and rivalled any California seashore.
Andrew spotted his sister and Heather at once, even in the late lunch crowd. Katherine waved him over. Her pale skin and pink cheeks were China doll beautiful, although all the makeup she had applied didn’t disguise her red eyes. Heather wore a plunging neckline dress that swept down her voluptuous figure and finished calf length at her three-inch heels. Her straight, black locks swished as she looked up.
“Hello ladies.”
Heather reached out for Andrew’s hand. For a moment their fingers touched. A charge of energy ruffled her inscrutable countenance. He remained unaffected and took a seat next to Katherine, looking at the empty chair.
“Gibson’s late?”
“He isn’t coming. Got called to work,” Katherine said. A pained expression crossed her face.
“You’re stuck with us. To Rose,” Heather said as she raised her drink. No one else picked up a glass so she took a sip of her wine anyway.
“Yes. To Rose,” Katherine echoed. She gazed at the floor, zoning in on the ridges and knots of the oak flooring.
Andrew feared his sister was working her way into a lather. Her swollen eyes and harried appearance attested to the fact she was overwhelmed with emotions.
“To Rose,” Andrew said. He lifted an empty glass and signalled to the waiter looking their way. The man came over to the table immediately.
“Hi. How is everyone doing today?” he asked, bowing slightly and rubbing his hands together. Andrew saw his sister press her lips tightly as if to stop herself from screaming.
“We’re good,” Andrew said. “Could I have a drink before we order?” He didn’t want to be rude, but the cheerful greeting could set Katherine into another panic attack. The server scurried to the bar.
“I’m here for you. Hope you never forget,” Andrew said.
“Me too,” piped up Heather. “I am without equal your best friend so let’s order. I’m famished.” She picked up a menu with a flourish of her hand.
Katherine broke into a smile. It was almost futile to ward off Heather’s buoyant grit. The restaurant was renowned for serving local fish. The freshest halibut, lingcod and salmon caught off the west coast of British Columbia were used in exquisite dishes. Combined with local produce and herbs made it nearly impossible to order anything but the fish. And so all three of them did. Each ordered a different entrée so they could sample each other’s savoury plate.
“My gallery showing is soon,” Heather said, lifting an eyebrow.
“Tell us,” Katherine said, sliding her chair closer and leaning in, getting into the spirit.
Heather gave them the details, barely able to hold in her enthusiasm.
“So guys, I expect full compliance attending the show,” she said. “No exceptions. I need all the support I can muster.”
“Come on. You’re famous on the peninsula. People love your work,” Andrew said. A few of the prints in his waiting room were original watercolours created by Heather. Three owls sitting together on a conifer branch was his favourite. Owls were solitary creatures but when grouped were called a parliament. They had been known for being wise of disposition. He thought the name was suitable and wonderful.
“Still have to come.”
The food arrived quickly. It was great service. They dug in, enjoying the delicious meal. Except Katherine who had slipped back into her bleak mood. She was pushing food around her plate mindlessly. Andrew babbled about his blog in between bites. Heather placed one elbow on the table with her hand under her chin, staring at him as he spoke. She found his clean-shaven face and clear voice irresistible. Not the stereotype at all. He was middle-aged and single. Why didn’t he ever ask her out?
“Gibson is investigating a hate crime.” Katherine pushed her plate away.
“Oh. What happened? Where?”
“At the university. You didn’t hear about it this morning?”
“What! Who got hurt?” Andrew asked.
“Somebody was killed. I’m not sure exactly,” Katherine said. “But it was in the maintenance department.”
“Oh my god.” Andrew’s face turned from its usual ruddy complexion to pale in seconds.
“That’s all I know.”
Heather sat back in her seat, a look of consternation washed over her face.
“Do you need anything else?” The waiter approached the table, the same warm smile looking down on them.
“No. I have to go. Put it on my tab.” Andrew bolted out of his chair.
“Where are you going in such a hurry?” Katherine asked.
“The university. I forgot. I have an appointment.”
“Oh.” Then as an afterthought she asked, “Could you come for drinks tonight? Gibson feels bad he had to miss lunch.” She turned to her friend. “You too.”
“Yes.” Andrew said. He blew his sister a kiss.
“Of course.” A huge exhalation of breath escaped from Heather’s clamped mouth. She followed Andrew with her eyes as he dashed off and vanished out the door.
Chapter 10
Gibson turned away from the window and the dismal showers. It was only the beginning. The rainy days would stretch from now until March. On the positive side there would also be sunny times that would invite a lark around the bay in his kayak. He smirked at the prospect. A list of all the employees stared up at him. The names of those he had already interviewed had been crossed off. Tony had informed him that the safety meeting ran from five-thirty to six-thirty. That would cross out several more, assuming the murder window Rod gave him didn’t change. He put tick marks beside the crew members that had attended the session. That left Jason. Gibson headed down the stairs to expatiate things. There was still a lot of groundwork to cover today.
“Scottie. Are you making out okay?”
“All good.”
“Hey. Can we leave yet?” AJ asked. “We’ve been hanging out all day.”
“Who was at the meeting this morning?”
“Me.” Everybody but Jason lifted their arm and called out.
“So nobody heard or saw anything?” Gibson asked.
“No. Nothing.” They all shook their heads. Tony stood silently with his arms crossed and eyes narrowed. He was breathing noisily through his mouth.
“Okay. You can all go. I’ll chat with each of you alone over the next few days,” Gibson said and with a brandish of his hand motioned them to take off. As Jason turned toward the exit with the rest of the gang, Gibson stopped him and said, “Not you. Could you give me a minute?”
Tony stomped out.
“Any word from Na and Gunner?” he asked Scottie.
“Nothing yet.”
He turned to Jason and motioned toward the rear door. They headed up the stairs, Jason trailing behind. Gibson stepped over to the desk and sat down. He signalled to the chair in front. Reluctantly Jason sat, adjusting the seat so he faced the detective. He sat up straight, crossed one leg over the other and brought his arms tightly across
his chest. His foot jiggled. He had a pinched expression and unwittingly was gnawing the inside of his lip.
“So, you’re the foreman here,” Gibson said and gestured to the diplomas on the wall.
“Yeah. I worked my way up.”
“Did you start as a maintenance guy?” Gibson asked, keeping the conversation light and pleasant.
“No. I was somewhere else before.” The corners of his mouth shot up into a grin.
Gibson wasn’t sure if it was a sincere smile.
“You’re in charge of the ice rink?”
“Yeah. The sports arena, too.”
“What time do you start?”
“Seven.”
“You did the grilling at the party,” Gibson said. “Did you stay behind to clean up?”
“Yup.”
“Who else stayed?”
“Tammy. My wife.”
Gibson already knew that.
“Anybody else stay?”
