Gundersund was in the truck when Kala finally joined him. He’d been typing on his phone and glanced over at her when she started the engine. “We have an hour to kill. I just got a message from Nicholas Wagner. He isn’t available until two o’clock because he was asked last minute to give up his spare to fill in for a teacher who got sick.”
“Good. Gives us time to grab something to eat.” She avoided looking directly at him and put the truck in gear. The last thing she needed was for it to get awkward between them, or more awkward than it was already. A few minutes later, they were heading into the downtown. They decided on takeout sandwiches and coffee from the Pilot House on King Street and crossed over Clarence and followed it to the pathway bordering the lake. They started walking east into the wind.
“Getting chilly,” Gundersund said. “This should do.” He lowered himself onto a park bench and Kala took the other end. “Is that a man windsurfing out there?”
She squinted across the water, ruffled with whitecaps. “Looks like it. He probably jogs in thirty-five-
below weather too, and bikes to work in blizzards.”
“Yeah, I don’t get that either.” Gundersund set his coffee cup on the bench while he unwrapped his club sandwich. “Exercise doesn’t have to be torture. You can work out in a gym with other sane people when the weather is crap.”
Kala took a bite of her roast beef on a kaiser and thought about Jane Thompson and what her affair with Devon Eton had cost her. Her family, her job, her reputation. The wind tossed Kala’s hair around her face and she pulled a strand out of her eyes. Jane hadn’t struck her as a stupid woman. Would she really have killed Devon so soon after getting out of prison? Surely, she would have known that she’d be the main suspect. Then again, she had nothing else to lose and revenge could be a strong motivator. After all, she’d had more than two years in prison for her losses to crystallize into hatred. Kala ate quickly as she pondered the mystery that was Jane Thompson.
Gundersund crumpled his sandwich wrapper into a ball. “I’m going to hike a bit further,” he said. “Coming?” He was looking straight ahead toward the lake. The wind had tangled his blond hair more than usual and he had a few days’ growth of beard.
She took the last bite of her sandwich and stood, wiping her hands on her jeans. “Sure, why not.”
They walked the length of the pathway with the wind from the lake tossing the tree branches to and fro, making leaves fall in handfuls to the ground. Kala zipped up her coat and wished she’d brought a hat. Her hair was whipping around her face and getting into her eyes. Gundersund was a strong, silent presence beside her. The comfortable feeling that she got when she was around him had been strained since Fiona had warned her off, and it was nice to feel the ease return. She was sad knowing that their friendship would not be surviving Fiona’s return into his life. He might be conflicted about his marriage now, but history showed that he couldn’t bring himself to leave it.
“I’m going to meet with Dawn’s new social worker this afternoon,” she said with no forethought. She knew Gundersund had wanted her to become proactive in Dawn’s life but she hadn’t been able to explain to him why she couldn’t. She couldn’t even explain it to herself.
He nodded and shot her a sideways glance. “I think that could be a good idea.”
“Maybe.” They kept walking and she was glad that he didn’t press her to talk about her change of heart. As they neared the park bench where they’d had lunch, she checked her watch. “Guess we should get to the school. Wagner’s class will be wrapping up soon.”
Gundersund lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the sun and pointed with his other. “Look, that windsurfer has gone farther out. The man must be mad.”
They stopped to watch for a moment. He didn’t seem to be in any difficulty even though from shore his situation looked precarious.
“I guess some people don’t mind taking big chances,” she said. “That will change once he gets into trouble a few times.”
They left the path and started cutting across the grass toward Clarence Street and the truck. “I’m glad we had this break,” Gundersund said. “I’ll try to drop by your place after supper to fill you in on my last interview and to find out how your meeting goes.”
“If you like.” She wouldn’t hold her breath. It was no coincidence that Gundersund had stopped coming over after the article about her drunken past hit the paper and they’d taken Dawn away.
Nicholas Wagner met them in the front lobby of Kingston Collegiate & Vocational Institute, or KCVI as the school was known, and escorted them to a small office at the end of a long green hallway lined in grey lockers. “The guidance counsellor is letting us meet in her office,” he explained. “We won’t be interrupted.” He ran a hand through his floppy blond hair and studied them with sad cow eyes. He was a tall, slightly stooped man with an earnest, friendly smile. Kala thought that kids would take to him. “We’ve had some famous graduates at KCVI,” he said as they settled in. “Sir John A. Macdonald and former MP Peter Milliken were two of them.”
“What subject do you teach, Mr. Wagner?” she asked.
“Music, with a dash of history and geography for my sins.” He gave her a self-depreciating smile. “I had planned a career performing on stage, but that fell apart. Please call me Nick.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. What instrument do you play, Nick?”
“Guitar and piano, occasionally vocals. I thought I’d be the next Arlo Guthrie, but the music industry didn’t see my talents the same way. How about you? Play any instrument? Ever wanted to be in a band?”
Before she could respond, Gundersund interrupted, “So how well did you know Jane Thompson?” They were sitting in blue plastic chairs curved to fit their backs, and he looked as uncomfortable as Kala had ever seen him. The chair was too small for his weight and wobbled as he tried to settle into it. Kala could see the irritation on his face, and she should have felt some sympathy for him, but had to hold back a smile.
Nicholas also noticed Gundersund’s discomfort and his lips twitched before he took his eyes off Kala to focus on the question. “We taught across the hall from each other for three years when I worked at Winston Churchill Public. She was friendly with the rest of the staff but spent all of her time focused on the kids when she was at school. I probably interacted with her as much as anyone.”
“Did you see any signs that she was having an affair with Devon Eton?” Gundersund asked.
The sad expression returned to his eyes. “At first, I was her strongest defender so I was gobsmacked when she confessed. I mean, sure, the boys all thought they were in love with her. She has this certain sultry sexuality of which I’m convinced she is unaware. Her eyes alone could have launched a thousand ships.” A blush crept up his neck. “You’d think I was smitten as well, the way I’m talking.”
“And were you?”
“I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t intrigued, but she was married at the time. I thought happily.”
Kala said, “She didn’t confide in you about her marriage.”
Nick’s eyes swung back to her. “No, and her husband taught at another elementary school. Winston Churchill, if I recall correctly. Jane’s a private person, which worked against her in the end. Nobody knew what she was up to in her classroom or after hours. Speaking of which, the teacher who saw Devon go into her classroom one Saturday had no reason to lie. The school was empty but Bob came to get some tests that he’d forgotten to take home. He agonized about telling the police but did in the end.”
“We’d like to speak with him. Is Bob still at Rideau Public?” she asked.
“I wish you could, but Bob suffered a heart attack and died a year after Jane was arrested. A few parents have said that the school is cursed. The principal was forced into retirement after the trial, and last I heard, she suffered a stroke. We were all painted in a negative light as suspicions swirled. There was even talk of a sex ring originating out of the teachers’ lounge, although this was later acknowledged to be nonsense. We were uneasy for a long time, even about being alone with our classes. Some got threatening phone calls. It got ugly.”
Kala hadn’t considered the full impact of the trial on the rest of the staff until now. Jane Thompson’s lapse in judgment hadn’t only hurt Devon and their families. “When did you leave?”
“I liked the school, the kids. I didn’t want to turn tail and run as if we’d done anything wrong, but I wanted a fresh start and took the job here the year after she was convicted. I don’t regret it.”
Kala nodded. “Did you visit Jane after she went to prison … or since her release?”
“No to both. I kept my distance from her if only to protect myself. I’m not sure if I should be ashamed of that.”
“How so?”
“Jane seemed very alone and struggling. I could have reached out — we’d been friends after all — but I chose my reputation over her.”
Gundersund shifted and the chair made a cracking noise. He grimaced but didn’t comment on his precarious situation.
“One last line of questions, Mr. Wagner. We’d be interested in knowing if you can shed any light on Devon Eton and Charlie Hanson. Were they in any of your classes at Winston Churchill?”
“Yes, I taught them both. Devon was outstanding in math and science but closer to average in English and the arts. Skipping grade six meant he didn’t get some grammar basics, so it made sense to me that Jane would help him out. She was dedicated to the kids.” Nick paused. “Charlie and Devon were typical teenage boys to me. Gawky, growing into their bodies, not particularly popular, although Devon was into football and was good-looking enough. He was more popular after the trial than before it. In the teenage world, he became a folk hero of sorts. I can’t say that either boy stood out for me while I was teaching them. They were quiet and polite in class. Likely bored. Gifted kids latch onto ideas without effort and are often putting in time while their classmates figure out concepts. I naturally put most of my efforts into teaching the average students and gave the gifted kids projects to do on their own. Not a perfect system but mainstreaming, few resources, and large classes dictate the agenda.”
“Would you say that Charlie was brilliant or gifted too?”
“Hard to say. He didn’t talk in class and I had the feeling he wasn’t interested in school. I never figured him out.”
“Were Devon and Charlie outsiders in your opinion?”
“Devon was popular after a fashion. Charlie was definitely not. I’m not sure either would see themselves as part of the in crowd. As you know, the teenage population is narcissistic in nature, particularly during this age of social media, but I find that when you probe beneath the bravado, most of the kids are struggling with self-worth and finding their place. These are years that most of us would not want to repeat.”
Kala met Gundersund’s eyes before looking at Nick and smiling. “I think that’s all our questions for now. Thank you again for taking this time out of your schedule.”
She and Nick stood at the same time while Gundersund tried to push himself out of the chair. It appeared attached to his back and he took a few attempts to break free. It fell to the ground and tipped over onto its side. He straightened, leaving the chair as it lay, and walked ahead of Kala out of the room without saying a word.
“Nice,” he said when she caught up with him. “That guy was enjoying my discomfort. The sadistic, affected bastard.”
Kala tried and failed to hide her laughter. “I thought the whole thing was going to collapse and you sat there saying nothing. My God, when it cracked …” She threw back her head and laughed louder.
“And give him the satisfaction?” Gundersund shook his head, but amusement crinkled the corners of his eyes. “I have my pride.”
“Well, you know what they say.” She waited a beat. “About that going before a fall.”
Gundersund laughed. “Shit, I thought the chair legs were going to give out. Took me right back to every hateful class I ever sat through.” He tilted his head and grinned at her. “But I’d happily sit on a bed of nails if it meant hearing you laugh again.”
Jane arrived at the Coffee & Company café on Princess Street half an hour before Adam was to meet her with Ben and Olivia. Her stomach was too excited to eat but she ordered a pot of Earl Grey tea and a banana muffin so that she could sit for a while without feeling that she was loitering. The boy behind the counter had looked at her with puzzled eyes as if trying to place her, but another customer had taken his attention and Jane made her way across the room to the table by the window.
The day had turned cooler and windy as happened often in this seaport town. She’d lost track of the unpredictable Kingston weather when she was inside. She’d always liked the changing seasons but after a year locked away, depression had coloured every waking moment as one day melted into the next, without beginning or end. A steady stream of traffic passed by outside the window where she sat, Princess being a one-way street heading south toward Lake Ontario. Pedestrian traffic was lighter — too early for school kids to be released from their classrooms or for the dinner and bar crowd to start filling their favourite haunts.
Jane sipped her tea and left the muffin uneaten on its plate. The table next to her changed customers twice while she waited. Quarter to four came and went and Jane’s unease grew into full-fledged anxiety. By four o’clock, when Adam and the kids were fifteen minutes late, she had to talk herself down from total despair. They might have gotten held up at school or needed to run an errand on their way to meet her. She broke off a piece of muffin and nibbled on it while she looked out the window. Adam had been a lot of things during their marriage but he’d never been deliberately cruel. Even after all that had gone on between them, she couldn’t believe that he would agree to meet her and not show.
At ten after four, she scanned the street one last time before wrapping the muffin in a napkin and slipping it into her purse. She turned to lift her coat from the back of the chair and had her head down, putting one arm into a sleeve, when she heard the door to the café open. She looked up. Adam filled the entrance, his dark brown hair longer than she remembered, his blue eyes sweeping the room until they found her. She eagerly looked past him for Olivia and Ben, but they weren’t with him and her spirits sank like rocks in her stomach. Adam strode toward her and dropped into the seat across from her while she struggled to control her feelings.
“You cut your hair,” he said. “I always liked it long.”
She kept her hands from self-consciously touching her hair. He’d been obsessed with her looks when they were together. She’d often wondered what would happen when she got older and they started to go. She didn’t have to care about that any longer. “You promised to bring Olivia and Ben.” She watched his face tighten but he kept his voice even, devoid of any emotion that would betray the depths of his anger.
“That was before your boyfriend was found dead and your face and our family were plastered on the front page of the Whig. I can’t expose them to any more of this, Jane. You’ve hurt them … us enough.”
“I had nothing to do with what happened to Devon. Nothing. I deserve to see my kids. I need to see them. The court said that I could.”
The look on his face spoke volumes. He didn’t buy her pronouncement of innocence and was struggling to keep control. He prided himself on his reasonableness. He wore it like a sanctimonious cloak every day of their marriage. “You can’t honestly think meeting you now is a good idea. I only came to tell you that we have to wait for this investigation to play itself out.” He’d used his patient, explaining voice that made her want to scream. He checked his watch. “The police called before I left the school to meet you and they’ll be at the house in twenty minutes to interview me. I only came so you wouldn’t be here waiting and wondering what happened to us.”
“When will I see them?”
He stood. “When the police arrest Devon’s killer.” He smiled. “I’m assuming it won’t be you, although you’ve been known to surprise me.”
“You’re aware that you’re being cruel.” She said the words to the back of his head as he walked away from her toward the entrance. He didn’t look back.
She sat staring at the yellow and red leaves rolling down the sidewalk, tossed into the air by gusts of wind. She was lost in thought, her hands wrapped around her cold cup of tea, while university students
ordered coffee and noisily filled the tables all around her. It was only when the boy from behind the counter began wiping down the table next to her that she came back to herself and pulled her eyes away from the street. The boy’s face was tilted in her direction with a look of recognition in his curious eyes. Jane turned away from him and grabbed her purse from the back of her chair. She jumped up and hurried toward the front door with her head down, narrowly avoiding colliding with an elderly couple on their way inside.