Thirty—Six

The cops might have brought us to the station in their government-issue limousine, but they weren’t about to take us back to where Eric’s Jeep was parked. That left Teht’aa and me to find our way in a city neither of us knew well. Before I’d had a chance to ask anyone about finding a cab, Teht’aa had charged out the door. I had no choice but to race after her. It took me two blocks of running to catch up. Propelled more by her outrage than any sense of direction, she’d headed along a street bordered by a raised highway, which I realized with a sinking feeling was the Queensway, a major highway that cuts through the middle of town.

“Slow down, Teht’aa,” I shouted between gasps. “You’re going in the wrong direction.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” she flung back without a backward glance and continued walking rapidly as Eric’s wheeled suitcase bumped along the pavement behind her.

“Well, I do. I’ve got to rescue Sergei. Throw me the keys.”

The dog had been alone in the car for a good six hours. Though he’d probably been sleeping the entire time, his bladder would be close to bursting and his stomach very empty. Fortunately, with the night’s cooler temperatures and the partially open windows, the interior would have been comfortable enough for him.

She raced on, ignoring my request.

“Stop, Teht’aa. I need the keys. Otherwise Sergei’s going to pee all over the back seat of your father’s car.”

When she didn’t respond to my threat, I stopped trying to catch up to her. Her mind was clearly elsewhere.

Still, I tried one last time. “If you don’t give me the keys, I’ll have to break a window.”

At that point an empty cab drove by. I waved frantically. It came to a halt beside Teht’aa, who completely ignored the black sedan and strode onwards. I ran up to it and jumped inside. Before racing off to find the Jeep, I asked him to slow down beside the angry woman. I powered the window down.

“Teht’aa, jump in,” I called out.

Her head never wavered a fraction in my direction and her eyes remained fixed ahead. From the glassiness of her gaze, I wasn’t sure if she was paying attention to where she was going. Unfortunately, we were approaching an intersection, and the light was red. I feared she wouldn’t stop.

“Sound the horn,” I asked the cab driver.

She jumped at the sudden noise, then as if suddenly realizing where she was, she stopped just as she was about to step off the curb. She turned a dazed look in my direction.

“Meg, is that you?” She shook her head almost as if she was trying to clear it. She glanced around. “Where are we?”

The light turned green. A driver behind us blasted his horn.

“Quick, jump in.”

As I slid over to the far side, she slung her father’s suitcase into the middle of the backseat, climbed in beside it and banged the door shut. The car behind us honked again. The cab driver took off.

“I’m so sorry, Meg. I was so mad, I just had to get out of there.”

“I know, no need to apologize.” I could understand her anger, if they’d treated her with the same thinly disguised racism they’d revealed to me. “You didn’t happen to notice the name of the street where you parked the car, did you?”

She shook her head. “Nope, I just know it’s a couple of blocks from that bar.”

“I find for you, ladies, no problem.” A flash of white lit up the cabbie’s dark face. The spiralling notes of a Middle Eastern singer trilled from his radio.

The lights sped by as we drove along the almost empty streets of the downtown core. Other than the odd dedicated worker or curious tourist, the closed office towers and darkened stores served more to keep people away than attract them during the night hours. People only began to appear as we neared the Market, where the pubs and some of the restaurants were still bursting with noise and light. I stiffened at the sight of a number of motorcycles parked near the central Market building but relaxed once I realized the bikes were predominantly recreational.

The cabbie was right. It took him no time to find Eric’s Jeep on one of the nearby residential streets. In fact, it was the only car parked on that side of the tree-shrouded road. Sergei barked as we drew alongside and shoved his nose out the narrow window opening. Leaving Teht’aa to pay the cabbie, I leapt out and hastily opened the door.

Not taking the time to greet me, he bounded past to the nearest object, a mum-filled planter guarding the bottom of the wood stairs of a refurbished nineteenth-century triplex. It took several minutes for him to drain his bladder. Finally he turned back to me and clung to my side for reassurance, moaning. I guiltily showered him with hugs and pats as I filled a bowl with water and one with kibble. But other than a quick slurp, he was too upset to eat, so we snuggled until he calmed down. Meanwhile, Teht’aa was getting impatient.

“Come on, Meg,“ she persisted. “Get him in the car, and let’s get the hell out of here.”

“But it’s one in the morning. Don’t you think we should find a motel somewhere and get some sleep before driving back to Migiskan?”

“No way. I’ve gotta get out of here. I can’t stand another minute in this fuckin’ town. You stay if you want.”

This was hardly an option, since she had the car, but I wasn’t about to let her drive a hundred and fifty kilometres on her own in the dark, particularly given her mood. In her present state, she would speed faster than usual and end up wrapping Eric’s SUV around a tree. So after Sergei drank more water and ate a handful of kibble, I persuaded Teht’aa to let me drive while she kept Sergei company in the back seat. I was hoping his need for comfort might help settle her down.

And it did work, for she fell asleep, something I was doing my damnedest to avoid. But finally the dead silence of the car became too much for me, and after catching my eyes shutting one time too many, I tuned the radio to a station guaranteed to be playing loud rock and blasted it. So deep was Teht’aa’s sleep that she promptly returned to it, after muttering “Where are we?”

She did fully awaken when I stopped at the twenty-four-hour Tim Hortons on the highway before the turnoff to Somerset. I’d reached the point where a stiff jolt of caffeine was the only thing that would keep me awake for the last fifty kilometres. While Sergei continued to sleep in the back seat of the Jeep, Teht’aa came in with me to use the washroom and get a couple of Timbits to go with her tea. I’d ordered two cream-filled chocolate donuts along with a splash of French vanilla in my coffee.

For the next several kilometres we maintained our separate reveries as we munched our sugary treats and quaffed the caffeine.

Finally Teht’aa spoke up. “I’m sorry, Meg, if I got a little carried away back there, but those cops made me so angry. They were accusing me of being a prostitute and kept insisting that J.P. was my pimp.”

“Why on earth would they think that?” I asked. There’d been no similar accusation against me during my interrogation. I didn’t know whether to feel shocked or insulted.

“Only one reason. They think all squaws are whores.”

“I hope you threatened to go to the Human Rights Commission.”

“Yeah, I guess you know me, don’t you?” she chortled. “They kept saying that if I told them what I knew about the Black Devils, they wouldn’t charge me with prostitution.”

“Does this mean they think J.P.’s murder is linked to prostitution?”

“I don’t know. But they certainly gave me the impression that the Black Devils are heavily involved in the sex trade. Apparently, they’re linked to a couple of escort services in Ottawa and a massage parlour in Gatineau.”

“Did they think J.P.’s death was related?”

“Didn’t say. But, you know, Meg, I can’t help thinking that J.P.’s murder is linked to his inquiries about Fleur.”

“I know. I’ve been having the same thought. He must’ve learned something he wasn’t supposed to. I sure hope it doesn’t mean that Fleur has been coerced into being a prostitute.”

“I hope not either, but better that than being dead,” she replied succinctly.

“Yes, but if she’s still alive, how much longer will she be, now that they’ve killed her uncle?”

Unable to provide an answer, she lapsed into silence as the dark miles passed in a blur of illuminated foliage and yawning black holes. A pair of tiny headlights flared and disappeared into the underbrush.

Finally she voiced what I’d been wondering myself. “Do you think we could be in danger?”

“I suppose. It depends on whether J.P. mentioned us to anyone.”

I glanced out the rear window to double check for following headlights, something I’d been doing frequently since fleeing Ottawa. But since we’d turned off the main road onto the dirt road to Migiskan, only vacuous blackness filled the rearview mirror.

“Teht’aa, does oiseau vert or green bird mean anything to you?”

“No, it doesn’t. Why?”

“They were the last words J.P. said, plus another word I couldn’t quite make out. I’m convinced he was trying to tell me something.”

“If he’s referring to a real bird, I don’t know of any green birds that live around here, but you’re the bird expert.”

“I only know of the ruby-throated hummingbird, which is a luminescent green, and I suppose you could call some of the warblers green, although their feathers tend to be more a yellowy olive colour than a true green.”

At that point, my headlights lit up the fluorescent numbers on my mailbox. I slowed to turn into my road. “Do you want to go home or stay at my place?”

“I think I’d better get home in case there’s any news or messages from Dad. Why don’t you spend the night with me?”

Neither of us wanted to be alone.

Exhausted, I slept the sleep of the dead in Eric’s guest bedroom with Sergei hunkered down beside me, which brought back a host of memories, except it wasn’t Sergei who was sleeping beside me. Guns could’ve blazed around me, and I wouldn’t have heard them. In the morning I awoke to Teht’aa shaking me.

“Wake up, Meg. You’ve got to see this. I found it in Dad’s suitcase.” She held what looked to be a small box of wooden matches in front of my face. There appeared to be something green on the cover. I pushed her hand back to get a better view.

A saucy-eyed parrot stared back at me. He was a magnificent metallic green, and beside him were printed the words, also in metallic green, “Le Bar de l’Oiseau vert.”