Read Online Forty Words for Sorrow by Giles Blunt - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Giles Blunt
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have any idea what kind of pressures we have?”
“The victim was thirteen, Len. She was a child .”
“And that’s the only reason I’m talking to you. Just tell your junior, next time she waits in line like everybody else. Did Chemistry section call you?”
“Nope. All we got is Odontology, and we got that the other day.”
“Well, Chemistry should have something for you—they kept her long enough.”
“What can you give us, Len?”
“Wasn’t a lot to work with—you saw the body—so I’ll cut to the chase. One finding on the limbs: the one wrist and one ankle both showed ligature marks, so she was tied up somewhere; Chemistry may have more for you on that. Star attraction? We had one eyeball, and fragments of upper lobes of the lungs. Both places, Dr. Gant found signs of petechial hemorrhage. Wouldn’t have left a trace if she hadn’t been frozen. Never would’ve seen it.”
“You’re saying she was strangled?”
“Strangled? No, Dr. Gant doesn’t say strangled. Not much neck left, you know—so no ligature marks there and no available hyoid bone. Call the doc if you want, but strangled, no, I don’t think we can go out on that particular limb. One way or another, though, this little girl suffocated.”
“Any other findings?”
“Talk to Setevic in Chemistry. His report says one fibre: red, trilobal. No blood, no hair—except the girl’s.”
“Nothing else about the fibre?”
“Talk to Setevic. Oh, there’s a note here—they found a bracelet of some kind in her jeans pocket.”
“Day she disappeared, Katie was wearing a charm bracelet.”
“Right. Says here it’s a charm bracelet. You’ll get it with the rest of the stuff. Is Detective Delorme there with you?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve never met this woman, but I’m guessing she’s good-looking. Sex appeal in the red zone?”
“Yeah, you could say that.” Delorme just then was squinting at a fax, creases of concentration between her brows. Cardinal tried and failed not to find it appealing. “You want a phone number or something, Len?”
“Do I ever not. Her attitude is like someone used to getting her way, that’s all. In fact, put her on right now. Let me talk to her.”
Cardinal handed the phone to Delorme. She closed her eyes and listened. Gradually the skin over her cheekbones coloured; it was like watching the mercury rise in a thermometer. A moment later she placed the receiver gently on the hook. She said, “Okay. That’s fine. So some men they don’t react well to pressure.”
McLeod yelled from across the room, “I heard that, Delorme.”
10
T HE TURNOUT FOR K ATIE PINE’S funeral was larger than anyone had expected. Five hundred people showed up at St. Boniface, a tiny red brick church on Sumner Street, to pray over the small, closed coffin. The media were out in force. Delorme recognized Roger Gwynn and Nick Stoltz from the Lode . Nick Stoltz had got her into hot water as a teenager by snapping a picture of her and her boyfriend romantically entwined on a bench in what was then Teacher’s College Park. To him and most readers of the Lode it was simply a picture of autumn splendour, but to Delorme’s parents it meant that their daughter had not, after all, spent the evening with her friends at the sodality. She had been grounded for two weeks—a punishment that gave her boyfriend’s wandering heart time to conceive an affection for Delorme’s rival. Ever since, photographers had been assigned a place in Delorme’s personal inferno only slightly cooler than that reserved for rapists.
There was the Sudbury newswoman, with a female camera operator, Delorme noticed, and a three-hundred-pound soundman. She had seen a CBC van out front, and two pews up she recognized a reporter from The Globe and Mail who had done a piece on Delorme after she had put Algonquin Bay’s three-term mayor in prison. It’s not every day a child is found murdered on a desolate island in a frozen lake, but Delorme hadn’t
“The victim was thirteen, Len. She was a child .”
“And that’s the only reason I’m talking to you. Just tell your junior, next time she waits in line like everybody else. Did Chemistry section call you?”
“Nope. All we got is Odontology, and we got that the other day.”
“Well, Chemistry should have something for you—they kept her long enough.”
“What can you give us, Len?”
“Wasn’t a lot to work with—you saw the body—so I’ll cut to the chase. One finding on the limbs: the one wrist and one ankle both showed ligature marks, so she was tied up somewhere; Chemistry may have more for you on that. Star attraction? We had one eyeball, and fragments of upper lobes of the lungs. Both places, Dr. Gant found signs of petechial hemorrhage. Wouldn’t have left a trace if she hadn’t been frozen. Never would’ve seen it.”
“You’re saying she was strangled?”
“Strangled? No, Dr. Gant doesn’t say strangled. Not much neck left, you know—so no ligature marks there and no available hyoid bone. Call the doc if you want, but strangled, no, I don’t think we can go out on that particular limb. One way or another, though, this little girl suffocated.”
“Any other findings?”
“Talk to Setevic in Chemistry. His report says one fibre: red, trilobal. No blood, no hair—except the girl’s.”
“Nothing else about the fibre?”
“Talk to Setevic. Oh, there’s a note here—they found a bracelet of some kind in her jeans pocket.”
“Day she disappeared, Katie was wearing a charm bracelet.”
“Right. Says here it’s a charm bracelet. You’ll get it with the rest of the stuff. Is Detective Delorme there with you?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve never met this woman, but I’m guessing she’s good-looking. Sex appeal in the red zone?”
“Yeah, you could say that.” Delorme just then was squinting at a fax, creases of concentration between her brows. Cardinal tried and failed not to find it appealing. “You want a phone number or something, Len?”
“Do I ever not. Her attitude is like someone used to getting her way, that’s all. In fact, put her on right now. Let me talk to her.”
Cardinal handed the phone to Delorme. She closed her eyes and listened. Gradually the skin over her cheekbones coloured; it was like watching the mercury rise in a thermometer. A moment later she placed the receiver gently on the hook. She said, “Okay. That’s fine. So some men they don’t react well to pressure.”
McLeod yelled from across the room, “I heard that, Delorme.”
10
T HE TURNOUT FOR K ATIE PINE’S funeral was larger than anyone had expected. Five hundred people showed up at St. Boniface, a tiny red brick church on Sumner Street, to pray over the small, closed coffin. The media were out in force. Delorme recognized Roger Gwynn and Nick Stoltz from the Lode . Nick Stoltz had got her into hot water as a teenager by snapping a picture of her and her boyfriend romantically entwined on a bench in what was then Teacher’s College Park. To him and most readers of the Lode it was simply a picture of autumn splendour, but to Delorme’s parents it meant that their daughter had not, after all, spent the evening with her friends at the sodality. She had been grounded for two weeks—a punishment that gave her boyfriend’s wandering heart time to conceive an affection for Delorme’s rival. Ever since, photographers had been assigned a place in Delorme’s personal inferno only slightly cooler than that reserved for rapists.
There was the Sudbury newswoman, with a female camera operator, Delorme noticed, and a three-hundred-pound soundman. She had seen a CBC van out front, and two pews up she recognized a reporter from The Globe and Mail who had done a piece on Delorme after she had put Algonquin Bay’s three-term mayor in prison. It’s not every day a child is found murdered on a desolate island in a frozen lake, but Delorme hadn’t
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