“Nope. Same old, same old.”
“Okay, thanks. Where you playing next?” Cardinal said.
“Toad Hall, two Saturdays from now.”
“I’ll try to be there.”
“Do that. Got a guest vocalist. Black babe can really wail.”
Spike headed off down the road, rocking and tilting, sending another blistering—if silent—solo up to the wide blue sky.
Deloraine Drive proved to be a cul-de-sac. Cardinal parked in a cramped turning circle and walked over to number 145, the last split-level in a row of three. The grass was trimmed and the porch swept, everything shipshape as Spike had said. The blinds were lowered, but there was no other indication that the house was vacant.
Cardinal walked up to the front door. It was still on the latch and did not appear to have been tampered with. The sliding sections of the front picture window were also unmarked. He stepped down onto the lawn and checked the front window of what would be the master bedroom. The dust was thick along the ledge, and undisturbed.
He went around to the back and saw that one of the basement windows had been broken, just enough to reach inside and slide it open. Cardinal knelt on the grass and a blackfly bit his ear. He slapped at it and cursed. He slid the window open, turned around and backed into it, lowering himself to the basement floor.
It was only a half-basement; just big enough for the washer and dryer, which were still there. He lifted the lid of the washer. Empty. In fact, the entire basement was empty and smelled of nothing except concrete.
He went up the stairs and pushed open the door; it opened onto the kitchen. The fridge and stove were still there, but the kitchen was otherwise empty. He stood there for a minute and absorbed the emptiness of the place. Not the emptiness of a house between rentals but the desolation of a place that had once been home to many and was now nothing more than bricks and wood and stale air. He could almost hear the voices of children, the adult voices of old arguments, ancient apologies. He could almost smell the thousands of dinners that had been cooked on that Kenmore stove.
The sink was wet. Someone had turned the water on and used it quite recently. Cardinal opened the cupboard underneath it and found a paper bag with nothing in it except an apple core and a banana peel not yet black.
He walked quickly into the living/dining area. There were places where the dust had obviously been disturbed. He went up the half-flight of stairs. Nothing in the bathroom, nothing in the master bedroom. But in the smaller bedroom he found fingermarks on the blinds where someone had lifted them. He opened the folding doors of the closet, but there were just a couple of hangers, bearing the ghostly shapes of dry cleaning plastic.
He stepped into the hallway and looked up at the square in the ceiling that led to the attic. He knew the attics in these places. They were tiny, airless spaces full of fibreglass insulation and not much else, big enough to store a few suitcases. You needed a ladder or a high stool to reach them, and the square looked undisturbed.
He went downstairs again and opened the front closet. Empty. He stood in the tiny vestibule, wondering what to do next. All units were on the lookout for an AWOL patient with red hair, but the blue hooded T-shirt would hide that. Then he noticed the cupboard under the stairs and for a moment was flooded with memories.
When he was about nine years old, he had been best friends with a boy named Tommy Brown who lived up here at the base. His house had been identical to this one, and the two of them had had great fun hiding in that crawl space, telling Twilight Zone stories and in general trying to scare the hell out of each other. Tommy used to bring his collie, Tango, in there with them, and the space would reek of dog breath.
Cardinal stepped up to the little door. The bolt was open. He pulled on the handle and the door swung outward. He got down on one knee and looked inside. In the shadows of the back corner, he could just make out the frightened, pale features of Terri Tait.
33
“TERRI,” CARDINAL SAID. “Are you all right?”
She looked away from him, and her face vanished in shadow. “Please go away.”
“Come on out, Terri. No one’s going to hurt you.”
Cardinal thought he had never seen anything as sad as this young woman huddled in a crawl space hiding from—as far as he knew—the only person who was trying to help her.
She sniffed wetly; tears glistened on her cheeks.
“Terri, come on out and let’s see if I can help you with whatever it is you want to do. All right? Let’s work together on this.”
Cardinal wished Delorme was with him. Mind you, Delorme would probably just drag Terri out of there and ask what the hell was on her mind. Delorme could be a little short on sympathy when it came to attractive young women.
Terri crawled out of the cupboard and stood up, hugging herself although it was not cold.
Cardinal pointed to the stairs.
“Why don’t you sit there.”
“I think I’ll just stand.”
“Sit, for God’s sake. You look like you’re going to faint.”
He took her by the shoulders and gently lowered her to the stairs.
“Why were you so frightened?” he asked. “Who did you think I was?”
Terri shrugged. She was wearing the blue hoodie. The sleeves hung over her wrists and made her look like an orphan, which of course she was.
“Did you think I was whoever might’ve shot you?”
“No. I don’t even know who that would be.”
“Come back to the hospital with me. You won’t have to hide in any cupboards there.”
“I don’t need a hospital. I’m not sick.”
“Someone tried to kill you, Terri. Until we find that person, you’re still in danger. Come back with me.”
“I don’t want to. Believe it or not, I do have a life, and if you don’t mind I’d like to get back to it.”
“In an empty house? Where you haven’t lived for, what, ten or twelve years?”
Terri looked at him. The green eyes, informed now by memory and who knew what personal history, no longer looked so innocent.
“Tell me about your brother Kevin.”
“I don’t want to talk about Kevin.”
“You called him last night. His number’s not in service.”
“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.”