DANIEL HAD TO SHIELD HIS EYES from the dying late-February sun as he emerged from the front door of the Halifax Regional Police Headquarters on Gottingen Street. It had been a stressful few hours. MacKinnon was a skilled interrogator, forcing Daniel to reveal more than he had anticipated by asking rapid-fire questions without giving enough time to construct answers. Daniel’s real thoughts had begun to leak through. MacKinnon was clever.
MacKinnon didn’t want him to stray too far in case he had more questions. He promised to call Daniel if anything new developed.
The sky was painted blue to orange to red near the western horizon. Snow began to fall and bitter gusts of wind cut through his coat, even with his collar tucked up. His apartment in the South End was seven blocks away. He flagged down a passing cab.
In the rear seat, as the taxi lurched around potholes, he pulled out his cellphone and dialed. Pick up the phone, pick up the phone, he pleaded, but he heard her voice message again, in her neutral, businesslike voice, as if speaking to a colleague. After the beep, he said, “Please call me. I haven’t heard from you. I’ll be on the six o’clock flight tomorrow, as usual. It’s been a crazy few days here. I’ll tell you all about it when I see you and Emily at the airport. Tell Emily I love her.”
Why isn’t she answering my calls? The police interview had lasted longer than he had anticipated, but he still had plenty of time to get a good night’s sleep back at the apartment, wake up early, throw some clothes into his carry-on bag, get a quick present for Emily, and catch his regular flight back to Montreal. Every two weeks, he got to spend time with his daughter. Part of the court settlement. But worry crept in. He had no way of knowing what his ex-wife was up to.
The cab jerked to a halt. He paid the fare and strode into the apartment lobby. A short elevator ride to the fourth floor took him to his apartment. It was supposed to have been a temporary place, until he decided his next step as a single man and an estranged father. All he had left was Emily, and only for two days at a time.
Halifax was his clean start, a personal-life reboot, and a chance to redefine himself away from the trauma of his former careers and the guilt of a failed marriage.
He grabbed the lonely beer in the fridge. He opened his laptop on the coffee table and confirmed his seat on the Air Canada flight to Montreal leaving in twenty-four hours. On Travelocity, he got a room at the Novotel downtown, a short taxi ride from his former home. He couldn’t stay there. Vanessa had her own life now. He just wanted to see Emily.
With that settled, he tried to make a mental summary of what he knew. Forrestal’s murder was a professional job. Daniel and the police knew what the murderer looked like. The police were on the hunt. But they were baffled as to the motive. Who would want the star Canadian entrepreneur dead? Sure, not all business deals succeeded. He must have had enemies, but it was unthinkable that anyone would want to kill him. Forrestal had made one spectacular deal after another for years. Daniel couldn’t recall any failures. Everything the man touched turned to gold. And what did Forrestal want to talk about? Did he have a deal in mind? Why did he want to talk to a junior no-name professor? If he wanted advice, he should have sought out someone more experienced, like Lloyd, or someone still in the business. There were plenty of others. Does he know about my prior career?
He pulled out his cellphone and dialed. There was a way to find at least one answer.
After three rings, a flat voice said, “Fanshawe.”
“It’s me, Daniel.”
There was a long pause before Lloyd said, “Did you fuck it up?”
“What?”
“You didn’t like the deal?”
“What deal? There was no deal.”
Lloyd paused for a second before continuing. “So what did he want?”
“He never said.”
“You did piss him off. I knew it.”
“No, he’s dead.”
Daniel could hear accelerated breathing at the other end of the call.
“Did you hear me?” Daniel said.
“You killed him?”
“Are you nuts? Of course I didn’t. He was dead before I got to meet him. Police say he was murdered.”
Lloyd stumbled with his words. “What happened?”
“I don’t know. When I got there he was already dead.”
“How do you know he was murdered?”
“Oh, it was pretty obvious. He was shot. In the head. Looked like an execution. It was pretty disgusting.”
“I can’t believe it. Everybody loved Patrick. I can’t believe it.”
He called him Patrick. “Me neither.”
“Who killed him?”
“Don’t know. I just spent hours being interviewed by the police.”
“And they let you go?”
“Of course. I didn’t do it.”
“So who did? Was it robbery?”
“I don’t think so. It was a professional hit.”
“Christ.”
“You have any idea who did it?”
Lloyd paused. “Not a clue. He was always a winner. All the way.”
“Well, somebody was pissed off —” The line went dead.
Lloyd is still an asshole, Daniel thought, but his reaction was interesting. He shut off his phone, placed it on the night table beside his bed, and stared out his window. Lloyd said everyone liked Forrestal, that he was always a winner. He knows Forrestal personally.
Maybe there was one loser out there.
The sun had dipped below the horizon, and darkness started to blanket the city. The falling snow was heavier now, covering the city’s secrets, wrapping everything in white with a tinge of jaundice under the sodium streetlights. Daniel felt dizzy, disoriented, as if floating through space, each snowflake a star, travelling faster than light through the vacuum of space.
Another storm was coming. He didn’t know what form it would take, but he sensed that the strands of fate that tied him to a dead entrepreneur would soon throw him into another dangerous situation. A killer was out there somewhere and the skills that Daniel had tried to deaden might have to resurface. His old life might be starting to ooze back.