Skimming Over the Lake Page 5

  Margie remembered the first responder at the park saying the same thing about his brother. How it had become too competitive for him and he had had to bow out to keep their relationship intact.

  “I never even knew about RC boat racing before this case,” Margie said. “But you must know a lot about it.”

  “More than I ever wanted to, my dear. I wish I had never bought him that first boat!”

  “He got into it when he was a boy?”

  “I’m not sure how old he was… a teenager, probably. Yes, I remember the principal at his school saying that he needed to find a hobby. Something to keep him busy. I think he was rather disruptive in his classes. He was very bright and not shy about letting everyone know it. They didn’t want to put him ahead, so he was bored. We went to the hobby craft store… the same one as is still there on Thirty-Second Avenue. I let him browse around to see what caught his fancy, and it was those boats. I thought they were just model boats to start with, and I thought that gluing together all those little parts would be a nice, quiet hobby for him to occupy himself with.” She shook her head, laughing at herself. “Well, I have gotten my education since then!”

  The boat that Margie had seen hadn’t looked like a model boat. No tiny pieces to glue together and then show the completed piece on your mantle or float it in the bathtub. The boats had been much sturdier and utilitarian rather than showy. She nodded her understanding.

  “Well, it must have brought him a lot of joy over the years. So even if it was an irritation to you… at least you know that it was something he loved.”

  Mrs. Hustler considered this. “I don’t know if it brought him joy… but he did love his boats.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Margie looked out the window again, wondering where Christina was. It had been easier during the lockdown, when her daughter had either been home or at school. There hadn’t been much opportunity for her to go anywhere else. But now that the health restrictions had been repealed and school had let out for the summer, it was a double whammy. Christina was free to go wherever she liked and when Margie was at work, there was nothing she could do about it. She wasn’t sure there was anything she could do about it if she had been home either. Christina was at the age where she should be more independent, but Margie had hoped that she would still let her know where she was going to be and when she would be home. And maybe that they could talk about the appropriateness or inappropriateness of her activities.

  But Christina was being like any other teenager. Close-mouthed about what she was up to, irritated and oppositional if Margie asked too many questions about it or hinted that she would like Christina to be home or thought that she might be getting herself into a situation that was not ideal.

  And what could Margie say? She really didn’t know anything. Tracy seemed like a nice enough boy, though all Margie had been able to do so far was to wave at him from the front step as Christina climbed into the car. But Christina never came home with bruises or mentioned any trouble from the police or anyone else. Margie had talked discreetly with the school resource officer, and he said that Tracy was a nice boy, not the kind to cause any trouble, not into drugs or drink or gangs, as far as he knew. Christina said that they just hung out, which was not very enlightening. She didn’t like the thought of Christina hanging around malls where kids could get into trouble. There had been trouble at the malls with assaults and robberies by or aimed at teenagers in the past. She had checked.

  Maybe she shouldn’t have checked. Maybe she should have just been another oblivious parent, thinking that kids were perfectly safe if they were meeting somewhere in public.

  She sighed. She had made supper and Christina had said that she would be home for it, but there was no sign of her. Margie eventually sat down to the vegetable stir fry with rice by herself. Christina was mostly vegetarian, so Margie had fried up just a bit of chicken for herself and kept it in a separate dish. A little bottled sauce from the cupboard, and it made a nice meal. But not one she had intended to eat alone.

  She texted Christina as she sat down to eat. She tried not to constantly phone and text Christina, figuring that if she did, the girl would just tune her out like so much background noise. If she only made occasional contacts when she really needed something, Christina would be more likely to pay attention.

  I’m going ahead and eating. Will you be home in time to visit Moushoom?

  She switched her phone over to one of her social networks immediately after sending the text, so that she wouldn’t be staring at the texting screen wondering whether Christina was going to text her back and how long it would take if she were. The time would pass much more quickly if she weren’t waiting for those little dots to appear on her screen, indicating that Christina might be typing a reply.

  The vibration and banner across the top of her phone came just a minute or two later, and Margie tapped the banner to switch back to the text messages.

  Sorry got held up will be home soon see moushoom

  Margie read the message a couple of times and let out her breath in a slow, controlled stream. Christina was fine. Nothing untoward had happened. And she would be home soon. That was all that Margie could hope for.

  She tried not to gobble the meal down, but to go slowly and savor it. Eating alone didn’t mean that she couldn’t enjoy herself and what she had prepared. Maybe Christina would be home quickly enough to have a bite or two to eat before they went over to Moushoom’s. Or maybe she would eat some after they got back, when she was looking for an evening snack. She might have already eaten somewhere with Tracy.

  Margie was just putting the leftovers away when she saw Tracy’s car drive up to the curb. Christina did not get out immediately, apparently taking a minute or two to wind up their conversation and say goodbye. Then Christina popped out the door and jogged up the sidewalk. The front door banged open.

  “Hi, Mom! Sorry to be so late. I didn’t mean to be.”

  Christina bounced into the kitchen and gave Margie a quick kiss on the cheek.

  “Really, I’m sorry.”

  “No problem. Maybe you could just pop me a text next time. Let me know you’re running late and what your plans are.”

  Christina nodded. “Yeah, I should have. That smells good, how was it?”

  “It was good. Plenty left if you want some later.”

  “I might.”

  “So how is Tracy? What did you guys do?” Margie was careful not to put too much emphasis on the words. Just a casual conversation. Two people who lived together asking each other about their days.

  “He’s good. We had a nice time. Went over to his sister’s house to help her pack for a move. I didn’t know that it would take so long.”

  “Oh,” Margie was a little surprised at this news. She added the tidbits of information to what she knew about Tracy. He had a sister who also lived in Calgary. She would be older than he was if she had a place of her own. Margie knew that Tracy’s family had immigrated from China, so she assumed that there was probably only one sibling. “Well, that sounds like a lot of work. Maybe you’d better have something to eat before we go out.” She paused in putting the leftovers into the fridge.

  “No, it’s okay. We had pizza earlier and I’m still full.”

  “Okay.” Margie put the last plastic container into the fridge and closed the door. “All taken care of, then. Are you ready to turn around and go right back out, or did you need to freshen up first?”

  “We can go. I’ll relax while we’re visiting.”

  Margie nodded. “Do you want to walk over or drive? Are you tired?”

  “Umm… maybe drive over in case Moushoom wants to go for a walk when we get there. I don’t think I can walk over and go for a walk with him and walk back.”

  If Christina had spent a good part of the day packing for a move. Margie was inclined to agree. She grabbed her purse. “Let’s go, then. Stella! Go for drive?”

  Stella jumped down from the couch where she had been sleeping and ran over to the door. Margie had to laugh at how eager she always was to go out.

  Christina got to the door first and gave Stella ear scratches, cuddled her face, and kissed her on the snout. “How is my Stella? How is my doggie? Did you miss me today?”

  “I’m sure she did,” Margie obliged. “She isn’t used to you being gone so long.”

  “Oh, poor Stella.” Christina loved her some more. “She’s used to me going to school, though, and that’s all day.”

  “You’re usually back before supper. That’s different for her.”

  “I guess.” Christina grabbed Stella’s leash from the peg beside the door and clipped it onto the D-ring on her collar. “Come on, then, girl. Go for drive!” She opened the door and took Stella out to the car. Margie locked up and followed them.

  “Can I drive on the way back?” Christina asked. “I need to get more practice time in.”

  It was only a two-minute drive. Margie shrugged. “Sure, of course.”

  They took Stella into Moushoom’s building with them. Margie had been hesitant to do that at first, thinking that people would be averse to having a strange dog in the building. There were bound to be rules about dogs, especially larger dogs. But she had found that the opposite was true. Whenever they took Stella in with them, it took three times as long to get to Moushoom’s room, because everyone wanted to say hello to Stella and to give her a pet and a kind word. Margie didn’t hurry people, thinking of it as sort of a service to them. Not a formal visiting-dog program, but something that brought them joy and should not be rushed. So she just provided them with a wipe or squirt of sanitizer so that Stella did not become a vector to transfer diseases from one resident to another.

  Eventually, they reached Moushoom’s door. They knocked and went in. Moushoom was asleep in his wheelchair in front of the TV, and it took a few minutes of gentle prodding before they were able to wake him up.

  Moushoom looked at them for a moment, eyes blank, not taking them in. Then all of a sudden, a smile bloomed across his face and he reached for them. “There are my girls!” He gave them both hugs, and Margie brushed his wrinkled cheek with a kiss.

  “Boon swayr, Moushoom. How are you?”

  “I am good. Maarsii.”

  “Are you tired? We can help you to get into bed?”

  “Oh, no.” He shook his head briskly at this. “I’m not ready for bed. And I am not so old that I cannot get myself into bed anymore.”

  “Okay. I just wanted to make sure. We wouldn’t want to wear you out.”

  “I was just napping so that I would be ready when you came. Now I’m bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.”

  Christina laughed. Moushoom scratched Stella’s ears, smiling at her. “She reminds me of a dog I used to have,” he reminisced.

  Margie and Christina had heard this story many times from him, but neither gave him any sign that it was one they already knew.

  “Tell me about your dog,” Margie encouraged.

  “She was just a stray when I got her. I guess we didn’t have the humane society back then, or maybe people just didn’t use it. There were a lot more stray animals around. She kept hanging around my back door, and I started feeding her some scraps. She was very skittish, did not like people approaching her. But she got more used to me, always coming back for more scraps, until she would come right up to me and eat out of my hand. And then I started being able to pet her. And eventually… to give her a wash with the garden hose and brush her…”

  “What was her name?”

  “Queenie.” Moushoom’s eye were far away. “She was a good dog. She would never come into the house, but we were used to keeping dogs outdoors. It wasn’t a big deal back then. Now, I suppose if you had a dog that you kept outside all the time, the bylaw people would come and take her away. But whatever had happened to her before she started showing up at my back door… she would never let herself be tricked or tempted into going inside.”

  “She was probably abused,” Christina said.

  Moushoom nodded. “Probably. I don’t know who had her before she showed up at my door. But we got on very well, once we were friends.”

  “Did you want to go for a walk today?”

  “Yes. It looks like a beautiful day out there.” Moushoom looked toward his window and the bright blue sky.

  “There are some clouds coming in. We’ll have to come back if it starts to rain.”

  Moushoom leaned back in his wheelchair, looking serene. “I will not melt in the rain.”

  Margie chuckled. “No, but you might catch pneumonia. I’m not willing to risk it.”

  “You don’t want to go to hospital during COVID,” Christina said wisely. “Especially not with pneumonia.”

  Margie nodded her agreement. “We want to keep you as far away from infections as possible.”

  Moushoom threw up his hands in surrender. “You are like two mother hens. How is a man supposed to fight both of you?”

  “You’re not supposed to fight us,” Margie told him, bending down to give him another kiss on the cheek. “You’re supposed to do what we say when it is for your own good.”

  He looked again at the window. “We’d better get outside before it starts raining.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Margie was at her desk looking through some of the surveillance video footage of Elliston Park when Siever texted her. She looked at the message and then looked across the room to where he was sitting at his own desk.

  You want to go back to the park?

  Margie could have texted back to him for more details, but it seemed a little silly to be texting across the room when she could just go over and talk to him. It wouldn’t disrupt anyone else’s work. She got up and went over to his desk.

  “What’s up?”

  “Apparently, the RC boat club that Hustler led sometimes meets at Elliston Park on Tuesday mornings. Around ten o’clock.”

  Margie looked at the time on her phone. It felt like she had just gotten into the office, but she had been there an hour already.

  “Sure. I’m up for checking that out. Do you want to drive together?”

  “If you want to come back here afterward to pick up your car. If you’re going to go somewhere else or go home after, it would make more sense for us to take separate cars.”

  Margie considered. While it would be nice to just spend a couple of hours at the park and then go home and work from there, she wasn’t sure how productive she would be. It was easy to get distracted at home and to start on something else not work-related, when she really needed to focus.

  “I think I’d better come back here after and keep looking through those videos.”

  Siever nodded. “Sure. I’ll drive, then. Unless… you want to drive.” He looked at her, cheeks getting a bit pink. “I don’t mean to dictate that I should drive. If you wanted to.”

  Maybe it had occurred to him that when a male and female law enforcement officer went out together, it was almost always the man who drove. But there was no reason it should be that way. But she imagined Siever fidgeting in the passenger seat beside her with nothing to do and decided she would prefer his driving.

  “No, that’s fine. I don’t mind.”

  “Okay.” He looked relieved. “If you really don’t mind.”

  “I don’t. I won’t tell you one thing when I really mean another.”

  Siever didn’t move, very still as he considered her statement. In the end, he shrugged it away. Margie suspected he didn’t believe it. He had dealt with too many other people who said one thing when they really felt a different way. He’d learned to accept it as a human behavior and wasn’t willing to believe that Margie would be any different.

  Siever put the papers on his desk neatly into one file and put the file into the file drawer in his desk.

  “Just give me a sec,” Margie told him. She went back to her desk to lock her screen and get out her purse and water bottle. She checked that her notepad was in her purse where it was supposed to be, then nodded to Siever. “Okay. Let’s go.”

  It didn’t take as long as Margie expected to get from downtown to the park. Really, no longer than it would have taken Margie to get home, and it was much faster late in the morning than it was during rush hour. It made a difference when they didn’t have to deal with bumper-to-bumper traffic.

  Siever went directly to the parking lot he had used the week before. Margie looked around, assessing everything. Had Hustler been there alone or with someone else? Had someone else gone separately? Or had he gone with someone? Had they met there intentionally or by accident? Or were they wrong in assuming that someone else had been there? Maybe the bruises were from something that happened before he got to Elliston Park. Maybe not even that day. Sure, the medical examiner could guesstimate when the bruising had occurred, but doctors could be wrong. It was still a guess.

  Siever stood waiting for her. Margie shrugged. “Just getting a feel for the place. Seeing if I can picture what might have happened.”

  He nodded.

  “Lead the way,” Margie invited. It was true that she had gone out that way the previous week, but she wasn’t sure how many ways there were in from the parking lot and how easy it would be for her to get lost.

  Siever didn’t have any trouble finding his way through the trees to the end of the lake where they had watched the firefighters retrieve the body and the boats. Before they even got there, Margie could hear the high, whining buzz of the little boats.

  “Looks like you were correctly informed.”

  Siever nodded. “You must be able to hear them all over the park. So your witness was probably telling the truth. Both about being able to hear Hustler’s boat and about it being annoying to those who come out here to walk in peace and quiet early in the morning.”