“More or less.” Don’t say it. “My sister is pretty fucked up.” Why did you go ahead and say that?
Donna nodded.
“Why are you moving out of Platinum?” Lori asked.
Donna considered the question for a minute. “I don’t like working at a place where a forty-five-year-old woman preys on boys a little older than my son.”
“And?” Lane asked.
Donna looked past Lane into her backyard. “I get a bad feeling.”
“Anything specific?” Lane asked.
“Yesterday Cori’s husband arrived to pick her up. He was driving a brand-new BMW. Sometimes he picks her up in an Aston Martin. When the roads are really bad, he drives a Porsche Cayenne.”
“You sure know your cars,” Lane said.
Donna laughed. “I have two sons. It’s what they like to talk about.”
“Anything else?”
“They live in a palace in Mount Royal.”
Lane waited.
“I work in the same shop as she does. My husband has a good job. We’re doing okay and we can afford this place. Cori likes to brag that when they go to buy a car, the salesmen are there to open their doors when they arrive. She says it’s because they’ve bought five vehicles and always pay cash. Then she has high-end customers who keep getting killed. Melissa Randall invited Cori to a party a couple of months ago. Now Melissa is dead.”
“What are you saying?” Lane asked.
“That something stinks. I’ve been working with her for a few months, and I get this creepy feeling. That’s what I’m saying.” Donna raised her eyebrows, let her arms drop to her sides, and shrugged. “It’s fucked up.”
Ten minutes later the car was warming up again while Lane drove them back down the hill toward the river valley. The sun was bright, surrounded by a sundog’s halo.
Lori turned to him. “What did you bring me along for?”
“I thought I might need an icebreaker. Donna might have been angry because I sent you to her under the pretence of getting your hair cut. People react in all sorts of ways to being a suspect. She’s smart and way ahead of us. She told us what she thought instead of what she thought we wanted to hear. Not all interviews go that well.” Lane shoulder checked, easing around a small silver car doing ten kilometres under the speed limit. A person of indeterminate sex wearing a black toque drove staring straight ahead.
“Got a death grip on the wheel.” Lori watched the driver as they passed. “Winter just freaks some people out.”
“I thought you hated winter.” Lane checked in his mirror before moving back into the right lane.
“I hate the icy roads.” Her phone rang and she reached into her purse. “Hello, Arthur. Your policeman is right here with me.”
Lane smiled.
Lori said, “Arthur says Thomas Pham phoned to say he’ll represent you.”
“How much?”
“Your honey asks how much?” Lori listened for a minute. “That much!” She turned to Lane and started laughing.
This is Shazia Wajdan outside Calgary Police Service headquarters, where Chief Jim Simpson finds himself under intense pressure. The recent murders of Robert and Elizabeth Randall and of Megan and Douglas Newsome have drawn negative attention on the Service for the potential wrongful arrest and conviction of a homeless man named Byron Thomas. Thomas is currently serving twenty-five years for murder. It now appears Thomas was convicted for a crime he did not commit.
CUT TO DETECTIVE NIGEL LI, CALGARY POLICE SERVICE “Mr. Thomas confessed to the murder of Irena and Rodney Wiley three years ago. Physical evidence linked Mr. Thomas to the crime scene. At the time Thomas was homeless and suffering from mental health issues.”
Police sources say the Wiley, Randall, and Newsome murders may be linked to at least two other homicides. But Chief Simpson is downplaying the possibility.
CUT TO CHIEF JIM SIMPSON, CALGARY POLICE SERVICE “All avenues must be explored. It is our job to protect the citizens of Calgary and arrest those responsible for these murders.”
The Newsomes’ deaths marked the sixth murder of a prominent Calgarian couple in only three years.
Shazia Wajdan, CBC News, Calgary.
Lane sat at the conference table with Thomas Pham, Arthur, Christine, Dan, and Indiana, who slept in his car seat next to his mother and father. The sunlight from the south-facing windows made it feel as if, at least in this room, winter was under control.
Tommy, as always, was dressed elegantly in a navy-blue suit and a red tie. Lane noticed there was a little grey at the edges of his thick black hair. Tommy was also getting a bit round in the face. I heard you got married last year.
Tommy looked at the notepad in front of him. “Just a moment. Before we begin, I’ve asked my legal secretary to join us.”
A moment later there was a knock at the door and a solidly built woman with red hair, an emerald-green jacket, a white blouse, and black wool slacks walked in, sitting next to Tommy. “Hello. My name is Sylvia. Tommy speaks well of you. He says you’re part of the family.”
Lane saw the jade elephant nestled between her breasts, and the engagement and wedding rings on her left hand. He looked at Tommy’s hand, noting the wedding bands matched.
Christine opened the conversation. “My mother tried to take my baby away, and now she’s got the CCI involved.”
“The Canadian Celestial Institute?” Tommy asked.
Christine nodded. “It’s run by one of Milton’s polygamist buddies.”
“Polygamists?” Sylvia asked.
“Yes. I lived in the Paradise community with my mother for eight years. I was on one of their fuck charts before I left.” Christine glanced at Dan.
A shudder worked its way around Sylvia’s shoulders. She looked sideways at Tommy, mouthing the words fuck chart. Tommy nodded to her.
He looks like he might be looking forward to meeting Milton in court, Lane thought as he turned to his niece. “You told me a different story.”
Christine turned to him. “I didn’t tell you all of the story. I left just like I told you. I just never told you about the chart.”
“Are you willing to testify in court about the chart?” Tommy asked.
“Will it help me keep Indiana?” Christine asked.
“Your mother will probably say she believes the child is in danger of being neglected or abused. Your testimony about your name on such a chart will raise doubts about the safety of your mother’s home. Is there anyone who can corroborate your statement?” Tommy looked at Sylvia.
“I don’t know. It’s a closed community. The woman who left at the same time I did might testify. Then again, she might not. The last I heard, some of her children were still in Paradise.” Christine shook her head. “Even after you leave, they have the ability to intimidate you by threatening to punish the people remaining in the community or preventing them from communicating with you.”
“That may work for us, actually.” Tommy tore a piece of yellow paper from his pad. “Would you write down the name of the woman who left with you, and the names of any other individuals who might be able to support your testimony? Were any other forms of abuse prevalent during your time there?”
“Yes. But the thing is -” Christine looked sideways at Lane and Arthur “- I had to create a diversion so that I could escape Paradise.”
“Diversion?” Tommy’s eyes narrowed.
Lane noticed Sylvia leaning in closer as she waited for Christine to continue.
“I set one of the houses on fire so we could get away.” Christine looked at the ceiling.
“Was anyone hurt as a result of the fire?” Tommy asked.
“I don’t think so. The place was empty.”