Skimming Over the Lake Page 2

  “They were racing boats in here?”

  Margie would not have thought it large enough for a boat race. It wasn’t just a pond like the one in Valleyview, but it was nothing like Chestermere Lake or the reservoir.

  “RC boats.”

  “RC?”

  “Remote control.” The woman mimed working a controller in her palm. “Little remote control boats. They play with them out on the lake.”

  “Oh, I see.” Margie nodded. “Six o’clock does seem a little early to be playing with remote control boats. I suppose whoever it was had the morning off for parade day. But maybe he has to go into the office in the afternoon.”

  “Maybe. I still don’t like having the serenity of the morning broken by those whining, whizzing boats. They go so fast. Did you know they can go, like, two-hundred-fifty kilometers per hour?”

  Margie tried to picture it. She shook her head. She had been thinking of the remote control cars some of her cousins had had when she was a kid. They didn’t go any faster than a brisk walk. Slower if their batteries were getting low. She had pictured something similar putting along the surface of the lake. But that wouldn’t have irritated the woman so much. It would have been quiet. Little boats going over two-fifty, though… that was a different story. Margie could just imagine them screaming over the water.

  “That’s incredible. I had no idea.”

  “It’s cool to see people playing with them here. The kids like it. But you would think people could be more considerate and not do it while people are trying to enjoy the peace and quiet of a morning walk.”

  “Mommy…” one of the toddlers whined, not sitting up, but still lying back, looking exhausted. “I’m firsty…”

  The woman shook her head at Margie. “When we get into the car, I’ll give you a juice box,” she promised.

  “I’m firsty too!” the other insisted more loudly.

  “I’m sure you are. We’ll be in the car in a minute.”

  The woman waved at Margie. “Well, I guess I’d better get on my way.” She looked Margie over, taking in her slacks and blazer. “You… know where you’re going?”

  “Just around the lake,” Margie said lightly.

  “There’s something going on down the other end. I don’t know what. Saw a bunch of flashing lights and uniforms. Maybe some vandalism or a homeless person causing trouble. They camp out here in the trees sometimes.”

  “I’ll watch out,” Margie promised.

  “Okay. Have a nice day.”

  “You too.”

  The woman pushed her stroller back toward the parking lot. Margie reoriented herself to the lake and followed the path that ran along the edge of it.

  Ducks and other waterfowl floated serenely on the glassy surface of the lake. The skies were blue with big fluffy white clouds. She could see a few Canada geese floating at the end of the lake as well, one of them clambering up onto the shore to poke through the grass for something tasty. Margie didn’t know as much about wildlife as she should, but she knew enough about Canada geese to give them a wide berth. Being attacked by one of those big birds and their hard beaks was something she would prefer to avoid. They might look like stately, graceful creatures, but cross one, and you’d better be ready to run. It was probably too late in the year for there to be goslings to protect, but Margie was not going to find out.

  The single pathway split into two, and Margie hesitated over which to follow. Siever had said that there was an inner loop and an outer loop. She could stay on the inner loop, where she could keep the lake in sight. It would be a shorter distance for her to walk. But if the woman was right and there were sometimes homeless people camped in the trees, then maybe she should take the path that led into the grove of trees. There might be witnesses to interview. Evidence that someone had discarded in the trees in the hopes that the police would never see it.

  It would take longer, which would probably irritate Siever. But it would be more efficient and save time in the overall investigation.

  Margie unlocked the screen on her phone and tapped Siever’s recent call record. She walked into the trees as she waited for him to answer.

  “Did you get lost?” Siever asked dryly.

  “No, your directions were good. I’m on my way around to you. I just thought I’d let you know that I’m taking the longer route, through the trees. I could see a good deal of the shore, and I don’t see anything suspicious by the lake. But something could easily be hidden in the trees, and a woman I just passed said that sometimes the homeless camp out here. So I’m going to take a quick walk through to see if there is anything that we need to take a closer look at.”

  Siever was silent for a moment, considering this. She waited for him to tease her that he thought she had gotten lost and was just looking for an excuse for her lateness. Cruz or Jones would have. But Siever was quieter, a bit shy or awkward. He didn’t press it.

  “I suppose if you think that’s the best course,” he allowed. “You’re the one with experience in parks.”

  She didn’t have that much experience. She certainly wasn’t a tracker of any kind. She hadn’t inherited that gene through her Cree or European explorer ancestors. But Siever had agreed to her chosen course.

  “Thanks. I’ll see you in a few minutes, then.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Walking into the trees, it was almost as if the rest of the world ceased to exist. There were still occasional traffic sounds, but all the busy-ness of the walkers and other park users disappeared and she was alone, her view limited by the trees that pushed close in on the trail. Birds chirped and twittered. She had expected to hear a lot of red-winged blackbirds, like she did at Valleyview park, but she couldn’t pick out their songs. She heard many sparrows and smaller birds like she often heard from her yard. Always fighting and bickering with each other, declaring their territory, calling back and forth.

  It wasn’t a paved trail like at the other parks she had been to. A worn footpath rather than a multi-use pathway. It was kind of nice that way, making her believe that she really could be in a forest, removed from the constant hum of civilization, rather than walking beside busy Seventeenth Avenue.

  “Coming through!” a voice called out.

  Margie looked up, startled, to see a bicycle hurtling toward her. She stepped to the side, off the worn path.

  “Thank you!” the cyclist called out as he whipped past her. And in a few seconds, he was gone again.

  So much for being isolated. Margie laughed to herself.

  She was there for a reason, and it wasn’t just to take in the trees and nature around her. She was supposed to be looking for anything that was out of place. Any homeless encampments or possible evidence. She scanned back and forth, looking for anything that might have been dropped or thrown to the side.

  Like the other Calgary parks she had been to, it was pretty clean and tidy. Not much for her to find.

  A few minutes later she could see a large rock that was obviously out of place. The forest ground cover was mostly grass and pine needles. It was a river rock, round and smooth. And it had been painted. Margie left the trail to look at it.

  It was robin’s egg blue and painted on it in a cursive script were the words “Pray Always.”

  Margie studied it for a moment. Was it evidence? There was nothing to indicate it had been placed there recently. There was no blood spatter or other obvious contaminant. Did it indicate that someone frequented the park who was evangelical? Maybe even a religious zealot who would rail at and try to convert park goers? Religious mania could sometimes lead to violence.

  The two painted smiley faces on the rock dissuaded her from this line of thought. A violent zealot might have painted fire and brimstone, but not smiley faces. Still, the rock was out of place and she should make note of it. Margie took a couple of pictures with her phone. Using the toe of her shoe, she lifted the edge of the rock, and could see by the dampness of the ground underneath that it had been there for some time. Not just dropp
ed there the night before.

  She returned to the trail and continued through the trees. The next people who came through from the opposite direction were a man walking a big, black dog, and two more cyclists. Margie would not have expected so many bikes through there on a trail that wasn’t made for them. She wouldn’t have wanted to be bumping over all of the rocks and roots on a bike.

  As she emerged from the grove of trees, an older woman, thin and deeply wrinkled, was walking toward her. She nodded a brisk greeting at Margie.

  “You might not want to go this way,” she told Margie. “They’re blocking the pathway. You can’t get around.”

  “Oh, okay. Thanks.” Margie smiled and nodded. “Any idea what’s going on?”

  Sometimes there was more to be learned from gossip than through official channels. Margie was curious as to what people were saying about the police activity.

  “Police roping off the area. I guess they think it’s unsafe. The lake is a stormwater catchment, maybe they’re worried about it getting too deep with the last couple of storms.”

  “Oh, okay.” Margie nodded. “There has been some spectacular lightning lately, hasn’t there?”

  “Yes, and there was a lot of flooding last week with that sudden storm. Lots of people got stranded in their cars. Dangerous to be near a basin like this if there is a sudden downpour.”

  “That makes sense. Thanks.”

  Margie continued to walk in the direction she had been.

  “You can’t get by them,” the woman warned again. “You can’t get all the way around.”

  “That’s okay. I don’t need to get around.”

  The woman frowned. Then she shrugged. She had done her neighborly duty by informing Margie of the problem. If Margie still wanted to follow the ill-advised route, then that was her own business. She would just find herself blocked at the other end of the lake anyway.

  They went their own ways. A leg of the lake jutted out to the left and, as Margie started to follow the perimeter, she realized that the lake was bigger than she had thought. She hadn’t been able to see all of it from the parking lot.

  Which meant it would take that much longer to get to Siever and the body.

  Margie picked up her pace.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  It felt like it took a lot longer than it should to get around the lake. Margie had thought that it would take her only a few minutes, but it took nearly half an hour, and she was drenched in sweat once she got there. She should not have worn her blazer when she knew she was going to the park. Homicide detectives were supposed to look professional, but she probably would have looked more professional in khakis and a white t-shirt than dressed for the office and drenched in sweat.

  She approached Siever, trying to look as calm and cool as possible. He glanced over her. He was heavyset, his face slightly rounded with extra weight. Hair buzzed short. His expression, what she could see of it around his mask, was neutral. “Glad you could make it. Ready to go?”

  Margie nodded. “Yes, what have we got?”

  Siever pointed at something in the lake. Margie could see a brightly colored inflatable raft and some other indiscernible shapes. She squinted, trying to force her eyes to adjust to the bright reflection of the sun on the surface of the water.

  “And we think that’s a body?”

  He handed her a pair of binoculars. Margie put them up to her eyes and adjusted the focus. She could make out an arm and hand protruding from under the raft. There was also a smaller boat; Margie assumed it was the RC boat that the woman at the sundial had been complaining about.

  “So… is someone coming to tow it all to shore?” She certainly wasn’t going to be swimming out there to get them.

  “Fire department has some boats. They’re going to send someone over.”

  So Margie had not held anyone up in taking so long to get to the scene. They still couldn’t even access the body. She took a few pictures of the raft with her phone, though she knew that the chances she would actually be able to see anything significant in the pictures were extremely low.

  “I would think that they would be faster getting someone here. We can’t even confirm that the guy is dead. What if he’s just injured?”

  “Hasn’t moved for an hour and he’s under the water. I don’t think there’s any chance of a successful rescue.”

  “Who found him?”

  Siever motioned to one of the spectators standing close by. “Dog walker. His dog kept going into the water and banging into the boat. Eventually he figured out that something was wrong. A birdwatcher had binoculars,” he made a gesture toward a tall, gangly woman who was also waiting and watching the water through binoculars. “She was able to see the arm once the dog had moved the raft enough.”

  “Do we know who he is?”

  “Hopefully, he’ll have some ID on him. Otherwise, we might have to wait until the parking lot clears out and see which car is left.”

  “He could have walked in.”

  “Not with a raft and other equipment,” he pointed out.

  “Oh.” Margie nodded. “No, not very likely. How big is the parking lot at this end?”

  “Smaller than the one you saw and less well-known.”

  “So now we’re just waiting.”

  Siever shrugged. “Forensics is on their way. Mostly, it’s rock by the edge of the water, but I could see some footprints, so we want to keep everyone back until they have documented everything.”

  Margie looked around. He had taped off a nice wide perimeter, and no one seemed inclined to cross the barrier. People stood back watching the activity or looking into the lake and pointing at the raft, but so far no one of the type who thought they had the right to march into an area, caution tape notwithstanding.

  “Looks good.”

  She was regretting that she had hurried to get there. Margie took off her jacket and folded it over her arm. She was probably showing huge sweat rings under her arms, but there was no point in getting overheated or dehydrated because she was dressed too warmly.

  “So… what do you think happened? He had a problem with his remote control boat and went out to get it?”

  Siever nodded. “Probably. And then he overturned or fell out reaching for it. Wasn’t as strong a swimmer as he thought or hit his head on an underwater rock. Freak accidents happen.”

  They listened to the whoop of a siren making its way down Seventeenth Avenue and looked toward it, though their view of the traffic was blocked by the trees. It pulled into the parking lot behind them and turned off the siren, still out of Margie’s view. It sounded big and heavy, so she assumed it was the fire department, not another police car.

  In a few minutes, a group of firefighters came out of the trees carrying a boat. It wasn’t an inflatable like the raft on the lake and required several firemen to carry it.

  “Just over here,” Siever directed, pointing to the raft. “There’s a body under it.”

  “What a pity,” one of the men said, heavily accented. Bahamian, maybe? West Indies? He certainly wasn’t a Calgary native.

  Siever directed them around the tape perimeter, so that they wouldn’t go walking across the area he believed the evidence was in. They set the boat into the water, talked back and forth for a bit, getting everything ready, and then started the motor and buzzed slowly over to the bright yellow raft. Margie tried to see what they were doing, but their boat blocked most of the view as they turned the raft right side up and examined what they found underneath for a few minutes, talking to one another, before they worked together to heave the body out of the water into the rescue boat. Margie found herself tensing, her own body remembering pulling a man out of the Valleyview pond. She hadn’t been able to do it herself, but had needed help to lift his weight and break the surface tension to get him out of the water.

  She tried to relax her muscles and breathe evenly. She wasn’t the one doing the physical work this time. The firefighters would bring him to shore, the death investigator w
ould examine him and take him away in his van, and Siever or one of the others would attend at the autopsy. Eventually, Margie would get the medical examiner’s report in her inbox, neat and tidy.

  It was a few more minutes before the rescuers tied the raft to their boat and putted back to the shore, again staying well away from Siever’s evidence. Margie walked along the tape perimeter down to the water’s edge. She could get close to the water without getting anxious, as long as she didn’t have to step into it or take a bridge over it. Then things got complicated. But she was fine standing on the shore to get a good look at the victim and any of the evidence that came with him.

  He was a large man. A good thing that they’d had several firefighters to pull him out of the water. One or two wouldn’t have been able to manage. His t-shirt had pulled up, exposing a wide expanse of white belly and rolls of fat. He was sandy blond, with short, thinning hair. His face had not yet begun to swell, which indicated to Margie that he hadn’t been in the water for very long. But she already knew that. The mom with the stroller had said that she’d heard him running the RC boat, alive and well, at six o-clock.

  The firefighters left the body in the boat as they pulled the boat up onto the rocky shore, not stretching him out on the grass to be on display to all the spectators. Pulling the tow rope attached to the inflatable raft hand over hand, the Caribbean firefighter smiled at Margie, flashing bright white teeth at her before pausing to pull up his mask as she approached.

  “You are a detective?” he asked. “I don’t think I have met you before.”

  “Yes, I’ve been in Calgary less than a year, so… that’s not surprising. Detective Margie Patenaude.” Margie didn’t bother offering her hand. Besides the fact that many people no longer felt comfortable shaking hands, he was obviously occupied with his job. He pulled the raft up onto the shore and started to look it over carefully.