“It’s my job to find out what happened.”
“What happens to the kid?” Keeler said.
“That’s up to the courts to decide.”
“You think so? This is the kind of case people can’t get enough of.” Keeler said as he shook Lane’s hand.
“V-Channel news and weather update.” The woman with the black hair, white blouse and microphone stood on the bank of the Bow River. The white stone of the Louise Bridge was in the background. “It may be sunny in Calgary but it’s raining in the mountains.”
A closer shot of the bridge with water churning around the supports. Debris carried by the silty water was only a meter or two away from rubbing against the underbelly of the bridge.
Cut to the reporter. “Conditions on the Bow River are exceptionally dangerous. The fire department is warning boaters to stay off the river until conditions improve. So, you can’t cool off on the river for the next few days. If that makes you hot under the collar what’s next will really steam you. Here’s Ralph Devine with a story about a major crime.”
Cut to a head and shoulders shot of a man with black hair and salt and pepper beard. “The Swatsky disappearance may cost Red Deer taxpayers more than they thought. Investigators now believe the missing mayor may have gotten away with as much as 13 million dollars. More at six.”
CHAPTER 22
Lester sat on The Racquet Club steps close to the front entrance. The sun shone on the bricks, the bricks radiated heat and barbecued him like a bratwurst. He read yesterday’s newspaper. It had been on the table at Tim Horton’s when they went for breakfast. That was over four hours ago.
They chose The Racquet Club because it was in one of the wealthier districts. Marv had been sure it gave them a better chance of stealing a Mercedes. God my brother is a pain in the ass, Les thought. “It’s gotta be a Mercedes, or it’ll all go wrong,” Marvin had said. Les was beginning to think jail would be better than another day with his brother.
The newspaper front page had HEAT WAVE written across the top. He looked over the paper as a green mini van made a U-turn in front of him. The side door slid open. Four kids in bathing suits and sandals poured out. A woman’s voice hollered, “I’ll pick you up in two hours!” The last kid slammed the door.
In a couple of minutes those kids would be screaming and splashing in the pool. He could hear children in the water just on the other side of the entrance way.
Someone had to pull up, leave the car running and go inside. He’d done it lots of times. Just one person needed to do the same for him. Lester had only seen six Mercedes so far. Lots of mini vans, though. Hate those mini vans! Give me a Cadillac anytime. Big engine, leather seats, cruise, air conditioning, he thought.
A motorcycle climbed the parking lot hill and eased into a spot only a few meters from Les. The rider kicked out the stand, leaned the bike over and killed the engine. The guy was wearing a short sleeved shirt, shorts, runners and helmet. He pulled the helmet off and walked past Les. Cool as a cucumber.
Man, Les thought, that’s the way to travel. A Honda Gold Wing with the highway stretching out ahead of him. A friend of his traveled down to the States every summer. Packed his pistol on his hip and road his bike from coast to coast. It would be cool on a bike. Get a Gold Wing and ride down to the States. A man could still be a man down there and ride with a 9 mm on his hip.
He heard the howl of an engine. It was the green mini van. The driver braked, leaned into a U-turn so tight the tires rubbed themselves bald. The van rocked back and forth when the driver dropped it into park before stopping. A woman hopped out with a plastic shopping bag with a towel trailing from the top. She ran into the club.
Les folded his newspaper and tucked it under his arm. Looking in the rear windows to make sure there was no one inside, he moved closer to the front of the vehicle. Empty. He opened the driver’s door. Cool air enveloped him. Les smiled as he leaned to slide the seat back. He closed the door, shifted into drive and eased his way down the hill. “After we get the money, I may just get me one of these.”
The only kind of sandwich Nanny would eat was made of white bread and ham. And a cup of coffee. “Make sure you don’t put nothin’ in my coffee but coffee,” she’d said. It was early afternoon and the kitchen was cool. He’d kept the blinds and curtains closed like she’d told him. Ernie wondered why she hadn’t made him feel guilty about going away with his father. She’d be alone during the day and she hated being alone. Last night she’d insisted he drive home. She was definitely getting weirder.
“Just keep busy, try to think about something else,” Ernie said.
Scout lay under the kitchen table with her nose on her paws and belly on linoleum. Her eyes followed Ernie.
“Cooler, isn’t it girl?”
Scout wagged her tail once in reply.
Ernie turned to butter the bread. Carefully, he spread yellow to the edges of the crust, just the way his grandmother liked it. “She’s really acting strange. Well, she always acts strange.” Talking to Scout was easy. She listened and he couldn’t say the wrong thing. If he talked to her, maybe he wouldn’t have time to think about other things. He peeled off two slices of honey ham and centered them on the bread. “When Nanny’s this nice, it’s really strange.”
Ernie looked over his shoulder at the dog. She lifted one eyebrow.
“You’re right. People are crazy. Dogs aren’t.”
Scout yawned.
“Humans think they’re the smart ones. How come we’re so screwed up if we’re so smart?” He squirted a bead of mustard over the ham and slapped the sandwich together.
Reaching into the opaque plastic pouch, he pulled out a slice of ham and jammed it into his mouth. It tasted like paste. He poured the coffee and wondered how something that smelled so good just a few days ago could taste like nothing today. Why does everything taste the same? He headed for his grandmother’s bedroom. When his feet touched the family room carpet, he heard the rattle of toe nails on a hard surface. “Oh no.”
Scout had her front paws on the edge of the counter. Her tongue reached out and licked the ham out of the package.
“Scout!” The ham slapped the floor. Scout picked it up and scampered into the front room. “What if I want to make another sandwich?”
Ernie turned and walked upstairs to Nanny’s room. Fatigue scratched at the insides of his eyelids.
Nanny was exactly where she’d been since morning.
“Here’s your lunch,” Ernie said.
“Thanks,” she said without looking at him.
Fear and lack of sleep forced the words out before he had time to think. “What do I do if he comes back?”
“Who?” Nanny said.
“Uncle Bob. What if he comes after me again?” Ernie slumped onto the edge of the bed.
“Oh, him.” She reached for her cigarettes.
Ernie looked at the pile of butts and ash.
She stuck a fresh smoke in her mouth and spoke through partially closed lips. “He’s not coming back. Don’t worry about him.”
“How do you know?”
“I know.” Nanny blew smoke through her words, “He’s not coming back.”
“Then why am I having these nightmares? I can’t sleep.” He crossed his arms and rubbed goose bumps.
“Come here.” She waved him closer. “Bob isn’t coming back. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
“Sometimes, even when I’m awake, I see that knife in front of my eyes and I can smell him, hear his voice.” He tasted ham and stomach acid at the back of his throat.
“I had those too.”
Ernie waited. She never took her eyes off the road. A white pickup truck breezed by. “That guy lives down the street,” she said.
“Who are you watching for?”