“Explain,” Arthur said.
“I can’t. They walked in, I saw the bruise on his face, saw the way she looked at him, and reacted to her sarcasm. I don’t know why she keeps getting involved with guys who treat her like that.”
“Like what?” Arthur rested his beer on the top of his belly.
Why is he being so calm about this? He’s the one who usually reacts emotionally. He felt as if his teeth were about to clamp down on his tongue. “She has a history of picking guys who aren’t good to her. You know. The kind of guy we met at emergency. The one who gave her a black eye.”
“Daniel got the bruise on his face from the same guy who gave Christine the bruise. In fact, Daniel drove her home after he got into the middle of the fight to protect her. Daniel was trying to stop Christine from being hit again.” Arthur waited for Lane’s reaction.
Lane looked at the bubbles rising in the amber of his beer. “Shit.”
“Exactly.”
Lane picked up his fork and put it down again. “I apologize.”
“It’s not me you need to apologize to. But I’ll accept anyway after the way you’ve shut me out lately.” Arthur lifted his glass and took a drink. “And quit pretending it’s all about the way Christine treats you. It’s more than just that, and you know it.”
THURSDAY, AUGUST 23
chapter 9
“Is Christine around?” Lane checked his email as he talked on the phone.
“She’s at work,” Arthur said, his tone implying that Lane should know her schedule.
“Of course. I’ll have to talk to her when I get home,” Lane said.
“If she’s here.”
“Yes.” Lane hung up just as Lori stuck her head into his office.
“Got some information from the Department of National Defense.” She held out a file with faxes inside.
“Mladen?” Lane took the folder.
“Yep. I took a quick peek. The kid’s moved around. Some of the peacekeepers chipped in, pulled some strings, and got him into Spain for medical treatment, rehab, and schooling. After that, they helped him get over here.”
“Thanks.”
“Have a rough night?”
Lane looked at her but didn’t answer.
Keely walked in and sat down at the desk next to Lane’s. “Kids giving you a rough time?”
“My niece brought a boyfriend home for supper. He had a bruise on his chin, and I jumped to the wrong conclusion.” Lane waited for their reactions.
Keely looked at Lori.
“How’d he get the bruise?” Lori asked.
“He stepped in when another guy hit Christine. The guy who hit her was drunk, and he hit Daniel as well.”
“Daniel’s the boyfriend?” Keely asked.
“Looks like it.”
“So he tried to help Christine, and you thought he had been beating up on her?” Lori asked.
“Something like that,” Lane said. How did I end up in the middle of an interrogation?
“Like what, exactly?” Keely asked.
“Well, I thought she was bringing home a guy who was bad news. She’s been known to pick guys who aren’t good for her.”
“And you did what?” Lori asked.
“I got mad and left. Took the dog for a walk.”
“And now you need to apologize, right?” Lori asked.
“That’s right.”
“What a dad.” Keely smiled. “About the same thing my dad would have done under the circumstances. How about yours?” She looked at Lori.
“Sounds like something mine would do too.” Lori began to laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Lane asked.
“You are.” Lori left.
“Let’s get through this information on Mladen. Any luck contacting him yet?” Keely asked.
“Not yet. We may have to go to Marda Loop on Friday night to catch the show.” Friday’s going to be a busy day. Lane picked up the file. “Let’s take a look at this.”
They began skimming the pages.
“Here’s something.” Keely pointed at a paragraph on the second page. “There were other witnesses to the massacre. Five of them identified Borislav Goran as the one who ordered the executions. And thirty-seven bodies were discovered in a mass grave after the end of the war.”
“That could easily mean that Jelena is right and Mladen had a motive.” Lane held up another paragraph. “Apparently, Mladen was taken care of by a group of Canadian officers and enlisted men who managed to get him to Spain. Some members of the Canadian Embassy in Madrid helped get him enrolled in a school and arranged for medical care. This confirms that Mladen lost his entire family in the war.”
“As you said, it gives him a pretty strong motive for killing Branimir.” Keely looked at the computer screen. “Do you think we should swing by Mladen’s place again?”
“Yes. And we should check into this: Borislav had a wife named Safina Goran. I wonder if there are any photographs?” Lane thought for a minute. “And I wonder if Lori’s friend in The Hague can tell us anything about Andelko Branimir?”
“It’s worth a try. I’ll ask Lori.”
They left fifteen minutes later, and after thirty more, they were parked in front of Mladen’s west-facing bungalow. Lane looked across the valley. A railway line, a freeway, and a creek ran north and south. Further west was downtown, and further still were the mountains.
“Do you ever get tired of looking at them?” Keely looked at the edges where blue sky and grey peaks met.
“No.” Lane watched a man cutting Mladen’s grass. He wore a ballcap and chewed the end of a cigar while he worked. The man worked his way up near Mladen’s doorstep, changed directions, looked up, and spotted the detectives parked at the sidewalk. The mower quit. The man took the cigar from his mouth. He reached up with his free hand and picked a piece of tobacco from his lower lip.
“We’re looking for Mladen Nezil,” Keely said.
“So?” The man took off his hat and wiped the inside elbow of his shirtsleeve across his shining scalp.
Try something different. He got out of the car, walked forward, and offered his hand. “Detective Lane.”
“Harvey.” He shook Lane’s hand. Lane felt calluses that must have built up over a quarter-century of labour.
“Good strong grip,” Harvey said. “Never trust a man with a sissy handshake.”
Lane opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. “He’s not home?”
“Nope. The guy works all day, then makes money as some kinda street performer. I was cuttin’ my grass, so I just cut his too. Retired, so I got time on my hands.” Harvey stuck the cigar back in his mouth.
“Know where he works?” Lane asked.
“Nope. All I know is the old owners were thrilled when Mladen paid cash for the place.”
Keely asked, “What’s he like?”
Harvey shrugged and pulled the cigar out with his right hand. “Don’t see much of him. All he does is work and sleep.”
“He doesn’t own a car?” Lane asked.
Harvey looked at the detectives. He pointed at Keely with his cigar. “Kid’s a hard worker. Doesn’t bother anyone. Just trying to make a go of it. You’re barkin’ up the wrong tree with this one.” He turned, went back to the mower, reached down, and started the motor, destroying the temporary quiet.
“Guess that means we can go,” Keely said.
“It’s okay. I understand. You apologized. It’s all good. My father acted much the same way when he met my sister’s fiancé for the first time.” Daniel sat with his legs splayed out in front of him. He leaned against the back door as he sat on the back step. He shifted his six-foot five-inch frame so he could lean his elbows onto his knees.
Lane caught himself watching Daniel’s brown eyes like he would a suspect’s.