By the time Declan and the RCMP charged into the change room I had already opened my locker. I had removed the bag of money intended to bribe my slain woodcutter chum into withdrawing from the STIHL Timbersports sponsorship and send him off to 100 Mile House to live a quiet life with Kelly Lewis and Buffalo. After zipping open the duffel to confirm the cash was still there, I left it in on the bench in front of both Annie and Gus Tibbs … just out of their reach.
I suppose I could have secured the bag elsewhere and out of sight, but part of me must have wanted to torture them both a little by allowing the father-daughter murder tag team to see how close they came to getting their greedy hands on what to them was worth the lives of two decent men.
I had also lined up the crowbar and the syringe filled with the medley of horse-euthanizing agents next to the satchel filled with stacks and stacks of bills, using a fifty-dollar note as a makeshift handkerchief in an effort to do as little as possible to disturb the fingerprints that were all over both crucial pieces of evidence of Gus and Annie’s guilt.
Declan had prepped the officers as per my request in the text message I sent him, so they went right to work taking my statement. I made it known that I had no interest in going down to some Mountie detachment to talk more about my involvement in the day’s events. I’m not sure if it was because they found my request reasonable, or because I had, for lack of a better word, peacocked a bit myself while making it known I was the son of retired VPD legend Frank Ounstead—who just happened to be very tight with their Mountie Superintendent Bashum—but either way they didn’t seem to have a problem with getting what they needed from me on site and moving things along swiftly so I could hurry up and be on my way.
At one point while giving my statement to a female RCMP member, Gus, who had to be removed on a stretcher by EMTs, was wheeled past me. He was followed shortly by Annie, who was escorted out of the locker room in handcuffs with several officers flanking her.
I tried my best to not get into it with her, but when I saw her shooting daggers at me with her eyes, I couldn’t help myself. As a result, I raised my fingertips to my lips, then blew her a long kiss as she left the building, albeit not before she unleashed a string of expletives so vicious and vile I momentarily considered taking another shower before leaving the locker room.
Once outside with Declan, I saw Harland “Hot Saw” McGraw speaking with two Mounties by a police cruiser, and he was so busy gesticulating wildly while spilling his guts to the cops it was clear that the RCMP were going to have all the evidence and witness testimony they needed in order to provide the Crown Counsel with one damning case against Gus and Annie.
The fireworks show had ended, and the flow of hundreds of country fair patrons walking away from the outdoor sitting area on the field bottlenecked as their pace slowed to a crawl past the entrance to the locker room. They were buzzing among themselves about what might have caused such a commotion. There was an even bigger police presence than the earlier one outside of the security portable, where Kelly Lewis had died from the deadly cocktail of equine drugs Annie injected him with after our knife fight by the pony rides.
Still wearing his Stetson cowboy hat and amber-tinted aviators despite the dark of night, Declan pulled two silver cans of Hell’s Gate Lager from his insulated cooler backpack and handed me one. We walked by multiple RCMP patrol units with their lights silently flashing red and blue, stepped around a rookie officer struggling to use a roll of yellow crime scene tape to cordon off the area from the looky-loos, and merged with the slow flow of pedestrians.
“’Tis a tragedy, Mate,” said Declan.
“Death is never easy, D. But at least we helped Jasper get some justice. I think that’s what all this mayhem has made me realize. There will always be things beyond our control, and events that occur whether we like it or not. But we always have a choice.”
I thumped a fist on the T-shirt on my chest. “We don’t have to go gentle into that good night. We can rage. Rage, rage, against the dying of the light.”
Declan looked at me quizzically for a few moments, then popped the top of his brew. “Aye, that all sounds well an’ good. But I just meant that I’m out o’beer,” he said, before shaking his empty backpack up and down in front of me.
I sighed and opened my drink as well, and we stopped by the entrance to the bumper boats area of the carnival, then tapped our cans together and raised our suds in a toast.
“To Jasper,” I said.
“An’ his Chop-Chop Pop Pop,” replied Declan.
We drank our lagers in silence, until an announcer’s voice boomed over the country fair’s PA system.
“All right, country fans, that concludes our fireworks show for the evening—but the fun ain’t over just yet! Pull up your bootstraps, grab yourselves a bite and beer, and saddle up for all of the evening fun as our Rodeo After Dark attractions kick into gear!”
There was an accidental high-pitched squeal as the microphone switched off, before the steady, ominous, funeral tolling of a two-thousand-pound bronze bell rang out across the speakers. Declan closed his eyes and inhaled, as if he could almost smell Angus Young’s epic guitar riff as it kicked in and one of the greatest rock anthems of all time began.
“And there’s one o’me favourite jams to celebrate!” he crowed, before miming a little air guitar. “This is a sign, Mate. Let’s hit a pub an’ have ourselves a proper piss-up for Jasper.”
“Wait,” I said, looking around. “Where’s Flo and her scooter squad?”
“Are ya right bolloxed? It’s after eight, Jed. Waaaaay past her bedtime. She’s back at the nursin’ flat waitin’ for me to join her at 4 a.m.”
“4 a.m.?”
“Aye, she said she wanted to have another go at breakfast.”
I don’t know if it was the relief after the day’s misadventures, our last beer, or my cousin’s ongoing geriatric lust, but I suddenly burst out laughing. Declan joined me, and we stood there in the crowd for I don’t know how long, chuckling so heartily my abdominal muscles started to hurt.
“I’ll have to take a rain check on the pub, D,” I said, finally.
“Why’s that, Boyo?” he asked, taking off his glasses and wiping the tears from his eyes.
“Because I have one last thing I need to do.”