In the old days, witches or women suspected of adultery could be subjected to an Ordeal by Water. After having her hands bound, a stock was placed around the unfortunate’s neck and she was thrown from a boat into a river. If innocent – she sank. If she floated, then she was in league with the devil and she would be fished out and dried off… usually at the top of a bonfire.
Still it was better than an Ordeal by Fire where the accused had to hold a rod of red hot iron or walk across red hot ploughshares. Innocence was proven when, with the help of divine intervention, the accused completed the ordeal without a burn. At least half-drowned innocents could be pulled up from the bottom of a river and revived. Fireproof women were rare.
One apparently did exist. Empress Cunigunda of Luxembourg strolled over several pieces of flaming irons without injury, thus proving she was not an adulterer. Pope Innocent III made her a saint in ad 1200. Despite the lone success of St Cunigunda, that same pope banned trials by ordeal fifteen years later at The Fourth Lateran Council.
Harry thought how much easier his life would be if he could pawn this investigation off onto divine intervention. In his years as a cop, the most pathetic offenders that Harry had arrested were the ones who never thought about the repercussions of their actions until the moment they were caught. Harry almost always felt sorry for them as he watched the consequences of their actions hit them in waves, usually culminating with shock as Harry applied handcuffs. MK’s eldest sibling, Eileen, looked like one of those guys. This wasn’t going to be easy on anybody.
MK opened up a folding chair for her sister and then handed her a big glass of wine.
“I was with Charlie on Wednesday,” Eileen said.
“Where?” Harry asked.
“At the ski condos up near the slopes.”
“Have you spoken with the mayor in the last twenty-four hours?” Harry asked.
“No. I’ve been at MK’s since I heard he got arrested. I was afraid of what Helen might do if she found out.”
“Was this a one-off or are you two having an affair?”
“Is that relevant?” MK said.
“I’m talking to your sister, MK,” Harry said without looking at her, but then turned and said: “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t.”
“We’ve been seeing each other for about six months.”
“Who else knew?”
“Nobody, I think.”
“What do you mean, ‘I think’?”
“Billy saw us coming out of a unit one day.”
“Big Bill?” Harry said. “Your brother-in-law?”
She nodded, yes.
“Did he ever mention it to you?”
She shook her head, no.
“To Charlie?”
She looked shocked as the implication of the question hit her. “Not that I know of.”
“Did Charlie tell you about his fake alibi?”
“Yes.”
“Had Charlie told you about the land offer to Frank?”
“Yes,” Eileen said.
“What has that got to do with anything?” MK asked.
“MK,” Harry said, taking a deep breath. “Could you wait inside?”
MK looked as if she had been slapped. “I most certainly could not.”
“Could you then please try to refrain from interrupting?”
MK’s countenance was angry, then confused and finally hurt.
Harry returned his attention to Eileen. “Did you know about Billy’s objection to the sale?”
“Yes.”
“Is Frank still your husband?”
“Now hold on,” MK said.
Harry ignored her. “Are you actually divorced from Frank Thomson?”
“No, just separated,” Eileen said, looking at her naked ring finger.
Harry stood and said: “Stay here.” He walked down the lawn towards the water and took out his cell phone.
MK followed him. “Who are you calling?”
“Cirba, who else?”
“I don’t understand…”
Harry held up his index finger and turned his back on her as he began to talk. “Ed. It’s Harry.”
Harry walked further away from MK as he summed up his conversation with Eileen. When he finished, MK was back on the deck with her sister.
“Eileen,” Harry said, “are you planning on going home tonight?”
She shot a look to her sister. “I was hoping to stay with MK.”
“Of course,” MK said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.
“Can I trust you not to have any communication with Charlie Boyce tonight?”
“Why are you being like this?” MK asked.
Harry ignored the question. “Do you promise not to speak with Charlie tonight?”
“Why should she?”
Harry turned to MK and flatly said: “Because if she doesn’t I’ll have her arrested.”
MK was shocked into silence. Eileen spoke so quietly she could hardly be heard. “I won’t speak to Charlie tonight.”
“OK, tomorrow there will be a formal questioning. Trooper Cirba is going to arrive at eight. He has agreed to have the interview here, if you like, but if you want a lawyer we can do it in Hazelton.”
“A lawyer?” MK said. “What would she need with a lawyer?”
“This is a formal police questioning. She is entitled to a lawyer.”
MK started to say something, but Eileen stopped her. “Here would be good. Can we make it so people don’t find out?”
“Probably not, Eileen. In my experience this kind of thing almost always comes out.”
Eileen let out an involuntary gasp as tears came to her eyes.
“Why are you being such a dick about this?” MK said then took her sister by the arm and led her over to her house.
Harry picked up the wine and swigged it from the bottle. “I wish I had more grappa,” he said to the night
* * *
Early next morning, Cirba and Harry saw all three of the Keller sisters through the window as they approached MK’s house.
“Shit,” Cirba said under his breath. “We shoulda done this in Hazelton.”
Vicky, the middle sibling, answered the door trying hard to be bubbly. “Morning, boys.”
The boys entered the kitchen. “Ms Keller, Ms Keller, Ms Keller,” Cirba said tipping his imaginary big hat.
“Fuck,” Vicky said to her big sister. “You must be in trouble – he’s forgotten our first names.”
MK was leaning against the stove with her arms crossed. Harry said: “Hi.” Instead of returning the salutation, MK said: “Coffee, anyone?”
Everybody took a cup, except Eileen who was sitting quietly with her elbows on the kitchen table, resting her face on her hands.
“Is there somewhere quiet we could talk, Eileen?” Cirba said.
Eileen nodded and walked out to the porch overlooking the lake. Harry started to follow.
“It takes two of you to interrogate my sister?” MK said sharply.
Harry sighed and said: “It’s what I do, MK.”
“Treating my sister like a criminal is what you do?”
“Your sister is a criminal, MK. She and Charlie conspired to obstruct justice.”
“She wasn’t obstructing anything. She was keeping a fling off the radar.”
“You don’t get it, do you?” Harry said, stepping in closer to her. “She and Charlie conspired to lie about questions in a murder investigation. That’s a misdemeanour in the second degree. She could go to jail.”
MK started to talk but Harry pressed on. “But that’s the least of her problems. Charlie’s always been a person of interest because he has a financial motive. Now that he has no alibi, he is a suspect.”
“He has an alibi,” Vicky said. “He was with Eileen.”
“But now we find that Eileen has a motive too.”
MK looked shocked. “You think Eileen and Charlie murdered Billy?”
“I don’t think anything, MK. I’m just looking at what I have.”
“This is my big sister you’re talking about.” MK was close to tears.
“Which is why I shouldn’t be discussing this with you. I have to get out there.”
MK stood in his way, wordlessly pleading with watery eyes. Harry simply sidestepped her saying: “Excuse me.”
* * *
On the porch, Cirba went over everything that Harry had heard the night before. Harry added just two more questions at the end.
“Eileen, did you shoot Big Bill or Kevin Sweeney?”
The eldest Keller sister had been mostly emotionless all morning but her shock and disgust at that question showed. “No.”
“Do you know who did?”
“No.”
* * *
Back at the Oaktree Diner, Harry watched Cirba tear into a breakfast the size of which could have fed an entire Dickensian orphanage. Harry couldn’t bring himself to eat anything other than a slice of toast.
“MK’s mad at you, huh?” Cirba said with a mouth full.
“I imagine she’s mad at both of us.”
“True, but it’s not as much a problem for me. I’m not, how did Colonel Elliot put it? I’m not ‘boffing’ the woman.”
“Well, I’m sure ‘boffing’ or anything else is out of the question now. Accusing your girlfriend’s sister of double homicide is a bit of a romance killer.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Cirba said. “So, do you believe her?”
“I want to say yes, but I think I’m too close to this.”
“Oh, come off it, Harry. If you think you’re too close to this,” Cirba said, gesturing around, “this is where I live. Where I grew up. Don’t give me any, ‘I’m too close to this’ shit. Tell me what you think.”
“I think she’s telling the truth. That’s the problem with this case – I believe everybody. Maybe I should just go back to my crooked investment bankers. At least that stuff is cut and dried.”
“Harry, get your head out of your ass. I didn’t hire you so I could listen to you moon over some girl.”
“Sorry, Ed. Right, so you’re asking whether or not I think Charlie and Eileen killed Big Bill?”
“That’s ’bout right.”
“What do you think?”
“I asked you first,” Cirba said.
“Billy was the only one that knew about their affair, and with him out of the way they were both in line to pick up a million dollars each.”
“Many have killed for much less.”
“True. I’ve got two problems with this: one, there is no evidence, and two, it just doesn’t feel right.”
“Yeah, it doesn’t feel right to me either,” the statie said. “The question we have to ask ourselves is – does it feel wrong because these people are my friends and you’re ‘boffing’ the sister, or does it feel wrong because it is wrong? Fuck Harry, we are too close to this.”
Cirba’s phone rang and he answered. “Yeah, I’m in Oaktree; can’t you get a cherry top to do that? Yeah, OK, I’m leaving now.”
Cirba picked up the check and said: “I guess since I’m the only one that had any food, I have to get this? Hell, working with the lovelorn is going to get expensive.”
“Where we goin’?”
“Some kids are throwing shit at cars on the old quarry road, and apparently, I’m the only statie in a forty-mile radius. So much for being a big shot homicide detective. I still got to chase kids throwing cow pies at cars.”
* * *
Cirba drove slowly on the quarry road. Both of them kept their eyes peeled but saw nothing until just at the intersection of the slip road to the fracking pod. A couple of pickup trucks were parked and four men wearing high-vis vests were standing under a tree. As Cirba pulled up, something hit his car and splattered muck and what looked like blood all over the windscreen.
“What the?” Cirba slammed on the brakes. Harry got out of the car and picked something up from the side of the road. He examined it and handed it to Cirba. It was a hollow rubber dove. Inside was a muddy substance infused with what Harry hoped was fake blood. Written on the bird with a red permanent pen were the words, “FRACKING = DEATH!”