FRIDAY, JULY 5

chapter 19

Lane came into the kitchen wearing his blue suit and tie.

“Where are you going?” Christine aimed a spoonful of Pablum at Indiana’s mouth.

“A memorial service.” Lane popped a strawberry in his mouth. It was a tiny bomb of flavour. He closed his eyes to savour it.

Indiana took the spoonful of Pablum, then took his time to spit it slowly back out. Christine sat back, and hooked a bare toe over the rung of a nearby chair. “Dan’s grumpy.”

“How come?” Lane asked. He picked up another strawberry and popped it in his mouth.

“He and I want a place of our own.” She looked sideways at her uncle to gauge his reaction.

His hand stopped with another strawberry about halfway to his mouth. He looked at Indiana, then back at Christine. I don’t want you to go. He felt yesterday’s joy spilling out. He looked at Indiana’s light-brown hair, his green eyes and round cheeks, the Pablum oozing down his chin. A flashback struck with cruel intensity. He saw the back of Cori Pierce’s head and the Glock in his hand. His stocking feet were thawing as the Jeep’s heater fan blasted warm air onto the floor. Lane could feel the Glock in his hand as he stared at Cori’s head.

“What do you think?” Christine asked.

Lane blinked, then looked at his right hand holding the strawberry. He looked at Indiana, who put his lips together and blew. Pablum sprayed onto the front of Christine’s T-shirt and she cried, “Indy!” Lane watched her take a wipe from the blue package and rub it across the baby’s face. He turned his head from side to side.

Lane put the strawberry back in the bowl. Appetite had deserted him.

Morning sunlight filtered through the stained-glass window of the funeral home chapel and illuminated the podium in a rainbow of colours. Lane and Arthur sat next to each other. Arthur smelled of soap and aftershave. He wore a dark-grey suit, mauve shirt and light blue tie. Lane picked a piece of white lint off his blue jacket, then lifted the creases on the knees of his matching pants. Arthur put his left hand over Lane’s right. “You’ve been uptight all morning. We’re almost there.”

Corinne Bailey Rae’s “Butterfly” began to play as Gloria walked up to the front. She was followed by her brothers, a niece and a nephew. A young man pressed a button on a laptop and a slide show began. Lane leaned back and turned his head to the right, anticipating the images like a physical blow. The first picture was of a stone-faced family with Gloria’s smiling mother seated up front. Her children and husband stood behind her in the backyard. Gradually the pictures began to change. Gloria and her brothers grew into their teens and twenties. Their mother was relegated to one side or the other. More and more, as the years passed, the sons and daughter could be seen to smile. Gloria’s mother was increasingly absent from the photos. The final image was of Gloria flanked by a niece and a nephew; all were smiling.

Lane felt Arthur touch his arm. “Did you see it?”

Lane looked at Arthur. “See what?”

Gloria’s brother stepped up to the podium and said, “A tyrant can rule only as long as we let her. When we gather together and rebel, the tyrant’s power is gone. That is the lesson of our family and of Christine, my niece. We are here to celebrate the survival of a family and the life of a child who was the catalyst for our rebellion.”

The slide show began again from the beginning. Lane looked beyond the stone-faced group and to the top right of the frame. He focused on the window of his childhood bedroom. A shadowy, gaunt ghost child in a white shirt could be seen behind the glass. Arthur touched Lane’s arm and pointed. “There you are.”

At the end of the service, as Lane and Arthur tried to slip through the back doors, one of Gloria’s brothers stopped them. “Hang on. Don’t rush away. My brother and I wanted to say thank you.”

Lane turned and faced two men. Both wore black jackets and open-necked shirts. They reminded Lane of their father, an ox of a man. The older brother shook Lane’s hand, then said, “My sister needed this. She seems to be a little more at peace with what happened. Thank you.”

The other brother shook Lane’s hand, then turned to Arthur and shook his hand. “Thank you both for coming and for what you did to make this happen for Gloria.”

Lane shrugged. “It’s my job.”

The lines on the older brother’s forehead deepened. “You look pale.”

“He saw his picture in the window,” Arthur said. “It brought back some memories.”

The youngest nodded. “‘The ghost.’ We used to call you that. We all worried about you because of the way your family mistreated you. But you’re not a ghost anymore.” He pointed at his brother. “We’re not ghosts anymore either. Our mother tried to take our power away, but we ended up taking it all back. It looks like you got yours back as well.”

“And more.” The older brother smiled and handed Arthur a card. “You ever need renovations, you call us.” Someone called out to the brothers, and they turned.

Arthur and Lane walked out into what remained of the morning. “Drop me off at the LRT station?” Lane asked.

When Arthur pulled into the parking lot of the Brentwood station, he said, “Before you go, we need to talk. Things have been happening at home while you’ve been consumed with this case.”

Lane released his seat belt then turned to face Arthur. “Christine already told me about the condo.”

“You need to know the whole story. It’s been pretty intense at home for the last few days.”

Lane took a deep breath. “What’s Lola up to now?”

Arthur reached over, turning up the air conditioning. “Actually it’s Dan and John who’ve been working things out. John came over to apologize for their leaving after the wedding in Cuba. Christine was blunt as only she can be. Then we all listened when John said he’d like to have a relationship with Dan, Indy and Christine. He explained how his daughter moved away because she and Lola butt heads. And he talked about how they haven’t seen Linda in more than a year. Then Matt jumped in and said Christine needs to be treated better by John and Lola.”

One of Lane’s eyebrows lifted. “Matt stuck up for her?”

Arthur nodded, smiling. “Yes, and Dan agreed, which kind of made Christine happier.”

“That’s good.” Outside movement caught Lane’s eye. A man pushed a baby carriage with a sleeping infant under the shade of a canopy, a toddler perched on his shoulders. “What did you have to say?”

“Mostly I let them work it out.”

“Really?” Lane smiled as he looked at his partner.

“I know. It was a struggle, but I figured my big mouth would only complicate matters.”

“So it was John who came up with the condo idea?”

Arthur nodded. “Apparently. He said they had a condo looking for a tenant and he offered it to the kids rent-free as a kind of peace offering.”

“No strings attached?” Lane shook his head remembering Lola pulling the strings in Cuba.

“He didn’t use those words.”

Lane inhaled then exhaled slowly. “It’s really Christine and Dan’s decision.”

“I know. And Lola will always be a pain in the ass. But —”

“But what?”

“— she can only manipulate us if we let her.”

“You’re forgetting something.” Lane opened the door.

“What’s that?”

“Lola only goes along with what benefits Lola.”

Terri handed him a moccaccino. “You look like shit again.”

Lane tried to smile. “Actually, I believe I’m feeling better.”

Terri shook her head as if to say Don’t bullshit me. “It was you and the young guy who got that Mara asshole.”

“Nigel was the one who grabbed him.” Lane took a sip to see if it would revive him.

“Can’t believe he killed that many people.”

Lane raised his eyebrows, then shrugged.

“Anyway.” She lifted her right hand. “Good job.”

“Thanks.” Lane raised his cup, then walked down the mall.

Five minutes later, Lori watched him as he walked into the office. She lifted a bottle of acetaminophen. “Got another migraine?”

“No, but thanks.” He held his palm out as she dropped a couple of pills into it. “What’s up?”

“Besides the fact that you’re looking slightly spiffy today?”

“Spiffy?”

“That’s what my dad used to call it when he got all dressed up.”

Lane tried to smile.

“Harper asked to see you and Nigel when you got in. Want me to call and see whether he’s available?” Lori reached for her phone.

“Sure.” He stepped inside of the office, set his coffee down on his desk and hung his jacket over the back of his chair. He picked up his cup and went to the door. “Nigel around?”

Lori put her hand over the receiver. “In the little boys’ room.” She looked out into the hallway. “Here he is.” She pointed at Lane and then toward the ceiling. “Off you go.”

Nigel joined him in the hallway and they rode the elevator to Harper’s office. Jean wore a white blouse and newly quaffed silver hair. “He’ll be available in a minute.” She was ten seconds off.

Lane and Nigel went inside and sat down at the coffee table. Lane looked at his coffee cup, then at the others. “Sorry, guys.”

Harper waved his hand. “Not important.” He didn’t smile.

Shit. Bad news again, Lane thought.

“We found our elevator repair guy. A friend in the RCMP sent me this.” He waved them over and pointed at a picture on his computer monitor. “The repair man was able to avoid every security camera but this one.” The image revealed a man with dark hair mostly concealed by a grey ball cap. He wore a jacket with ELEVATOR SERVICE written across the front.

“Sean Pike,” Lane said.

Nigel looked at Harper, then Lane. “Who?”

“Brother of Stan Pike.” Harper said.

“This means the killing of Mara was an inside job,” Lane said.

“He’s a cop?” Nigel asked.

Harper nodded. “I was wondering who would take over Moreau’s operation. It looks like Pike’s been anointed.”

“Pike’s on the MCSC list we got from Rogerson. Do the RCMP have him in custody?” Lane asked.

Harper shook his head. “Pike’s in the wind.”

Lane asked, “You saw the list?”

Harper nodded.

“You saw Fuentes there, then.”

Harper said, “That’s right.”

“Fuentes?” Nigel asked.

“From Mexico. Has connections with the UN gang in Vancouver. Looks like he’s expanding,” Harper said.

“Where does that leave us?” Nigel asked.

“Good question.” Lane took the last pull from his moccaccino.

After they left Harper’s office, rode the elevator down and stepped out onto the main floor, Nigel looked at Lane’s cup, then asked, “Want another one?”

“That would be great.” Lane tossed the cup in the office garbage can while Nigel turned and headed out onto the street.

Lane walked into his office. Lori’s chair was pushed up next to the keyboard and her sweater hung neatly on the chair’s back. She’s gone for lunch. He took the keys from his pocket, opened the door to his office, took off his jacket, hung it behind the door and sat down behind his computer. He looked at the tiny tape recorder on his desk, reached into the drawer and pulled out a pair of new batteries. He took the old ones out, dropped them in his drawer and put the new batteries in. Then he opened his computer and looked over the map they’d created for the Mara file.

There was a knock on his open door. He looked up and saw Lola dressed in a grey business pantsuit. A white crocodile handbag hung over her shoulder. A red silk scarf was wrapped around her neck. “Hello, detective.”

What are you doing here? Lane nodded. “Hello, Lola.” He got up as she closed the door, then stood with her back to it. He sat back down. He fought the anxiety making his nerve endings tingle and his belly clench. He glanced right, spotted the tape recorder, reached over and switched it on.

“I wanted to speak with you about my grandson.” Lola put her right hand across her chest to hold the straps of her handbag.

Lane inhaled. I’ve just heard confessions from a serial killer and the former solicitor general. Why does she intimidate me?

“John and I have spoken, and we feel that Dan, Christine and Indiana need a place of their own.”

“That’s what you’ve decided?” Lane adopted his interrogation voice out of habit. Here it comes.

“We offered them one of our condominiums rent-free.”

Lane waited. You knew yesterday’s joy would be followed with something like this.

“I’ve been concerned for Indiana’s safety because of your work. Matt was kidnapped as a result of your choice of profession, and you must agree that Indiana’s safety is a priority. It’s best for them if they have a safe place to raise their family.” She lifted her chin. “And I have some very personal concerns.”

“They are?”

“My grandson is growing up in the home of a killer.” She raised her open hand again, expecting opposition from Lane.

He inhaled slowly and focused on her eyes. Is she nuts?

“Of course what you did was legal, but I think you will agree — if you look at the situation dispassionately — that Indiana’s psychological needs would be better served in an environment free from the inevitable aftermath of such an event. Besides, he needs a more traditional family environment.” Lola waited before asking, “Have you anything to say?”

The door opened, it hit Lola in the backside and Nigel’s head appeared. “Sorry.”

Lola turned, opened the door wide, looked over her shoulder at Lane and said, “It’s for the best.” She walked past Nigel and was gone.

Nigel stepped into the office with three cups in a pressed cardboard tray. “Sorry about that. I didn’t know you had someone in here.”

Lori appeared behind Nigel. “Who was the woman with the Gadino?”

“Gadino?” Nigel asked as he set the tray on his desktop.

“The white handbag with the white diamonds. Do you have any idea how much one of those costs?” She looked at Lane.

He shrugged, reached for the tape recorder, shut it off and asked, “How much?”

Just carry on as if nothing’s happened. He felt a deep sense of emptiness. Does Lola have a point? Fatigue crashed upon him.

Lori said, “Over thirty thousand dollars.”

“Is that all?” Lane said. Lola, who else have you been persuading?