“Do you think Reverend Quantz fell over the railing by herself after she was shot, Chief?”

“Seems that way. The autopsy will determine any pressure bruising from fingers, but I don’t think anyone would bother to drop her over when she was obviously dead from the bullet to the forehead.”

Bernie turned into the hospital’s freshly ploughed and sanded parking lot. They parked, then stepped out of the car, a cold wind from the west, off the lake, blowing loose snow and sand into their faces.

Neil glanced up at the building. His wedding anniversary was coming up. He and Debbie had been married on December 23, thinking it romantic. She had teased him he would have a hard time forgetting a date so close to Christmas. He shook off the black memories that engulfed him. Hospitals always generated a feeling of depression in him.

Bernie stomped through the automatic emergency doors ahead of him. “Whoa.” He grabbed Neil’s arm and pointed.

Neil had spotted them already. Bliss sat on an orange plastic couch and held a bloody wad of tissues to her nose. A man wearing a red parka leaned over her, his arm draped across her shoulders. A mane of dark curly hair hid his face from view, but he seemed familiar.

Neil strode over to the pair. “Cornwall! What happened to you?”

The curly-haired man yanked his arm away. Glasses encircled his alarmed, round eyes. Bliss pulled the tissues away from her face. Her nose was puffy and small scratches criss-crossed her upper lip and cheeks.

“Hey, Chief. Hi, Bernie! Nice of you boys to check on me, but I just took a tumble in the parking lot at Canadian Tire. Somehow, my face got mashed into the ice. The ambulance swept me up along with another victim of Chico’s safety violation. The doctor twisted my nose and said it wasn’t broken. Then he threw a box of tissues at me. Apparently, I was bleeding on the floor. I’m supposed to stay here until it stops.” She sounded like she had a bad cold.

Bernie blinked and opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again after catching Neil’s warning glance. Bliss was slightly battered, but essentially fine. She was wearing high-heeled boots, but Neil knew better than to comment on their impracticality. Instead, he turned his attention to the guilty-looking man. “And you are?”

Bliss answered for him. “This is Chico Leeds. We went to school together. He owns Canadian Tire now.”

Charles Leeds: another face from the yearbook.

“I’m married.” Chico’s face reddened and he shifted as far from Bliss as he could get without actually moving to another couch.

“And you have three kids. Nobody cares, Chico.” Bliss caught a drop of blood escaping from her right nostril. “Listen, Chief. The other victim is none other than Mr. Archman, our old high school math teacher. Since you’re already here, this would be a perfect time to interview him about the graduation dance. I think his arm is broken, but he doesn’t appear to have a concussion.”

Neil’s mouth opened and closed again without any words coming out. Bernie snickered under his breath and Neil whipped his head around. “Go and ask about Mr. Archman’s status, Bernie.”

Bernie sauntered off, still chuckling. Bliss watched him leave, then mouthed the word sorry. She had trouble with boundaries, and they needed to have a talk. Another one. The entire force considered him whipped, and they weren’t exactly wrong.

“So, how did the interview with Sophie’s husband go?” Bliss looked at him as though she really thought he was going to discuss an interview with her in front of Chico Leeds.

Before he replied, Bernie returned with the news that Earl Archman was in a treatment room having a cast applied to his broken arm. “They should be done with him soon. Do you want to wait around, Chief?”

“No. We’ll catch him tomorrow. Either he’ll be home resting or back at the high school. Let’s go.” He would find Fang Davidson and interview him this afternoon.

They were almost out the door when he heard Bliss’s congested voice.

“Hey, guys.” She stood up, dragging Chico by the hand. “Can you give us a ride back to Canadian Tire?”

CHAPTER

twelve

Chico watched Redfern stride through the automatic doors with Bernie close on his heels.

“I thought Chief Redfern was your boyfriend or something?”

“He’s something all right.” I knew perfectly well that Redfern wasn’t running a taxi service, but he didn’t have to say it in such a snotty tone with Bernie snickering openly behind his boss’s back.

I turned to Chico. “Hustle back to your parking lot and pick up your vehicle. Then come back for me.” The real taxi service ran just two vehicles and both were usually busy shuttling DUI citizens to and from the liquor store.

“It’s almost a kilometre. And the sidewalks haven’t been plowed yet.”

“I bet you’re sorry now you didn’t de-ice your parking lot. Quit whining and get moving. While you’re gone, I’ll find Mr. Archman and try to talk him out of suing you. Go on!”

Chico opened his mouth to protest. I took the tissue away from my nose and allowed a trickle of blood to run down my chin. He scurried off.

Luckily, the nursing station was vacant. My boot heels clicked on the tiled floor, so I tiptoed up the corridor, checking the examination rooms. Most were empty except for a couple of screaming toddlers in one room and a woman at the mercy of a gynecologist’s speculum in another. The last room contained a mound of stomach under a white sheet. The biggest pair of pants in the world hung over a chair in the corner. I had found Mr. Archman.

I approached the head of the bed, and nearly jumped out of my skin when my former math teacher emitted a thunderous gasp and sucked in a couple of litres of air. His breaths came and went, noisy but even. Then, silence. I waited, but nothing happened. He had stopped breathing.

I ran into the corridor, but there was no help in sight. Behind me, the gasping and sucking resumed, followed by more stentorian breathing. Geez. Somebody with a forklift should roll the guy over.

The breathing stopped again. I poked his arm, the one not wrapped in plaster and bound to his chest. Silence continued. I poked him harder, this time in the folds of flesh where his neck could be. He snorted and flung out his good arm, knocking me into the chair holding his pants. His eyes flew open.

I leaped off the pants and approached the bed, keeping out of striking range. “Hi, Mr. Archman. How are you feeling?”

“Who are you? Oh, Miss Cornwall. Good God. What are you doing here?”

“I sent Chico to get his car so he can drive us both back to the Canadian Tire parking lot. Which I’m sure has now been ploughed and de-iced. I hope you won’t sue him, Mr. Archman. He’s a little thoughtless, but he means well.”

“You haven’t changed since you were seventeen, Miss Cornwall.”

“Well, thank you, Mr. Archman.” I tossed my hair and wet my lips. They tasted like blood.

“Always a smart aleck, I meant. Charles Leeds is still your creature. You still lead that poor boy around by the nose. Or something else.”

“So not true. He’s married. With three children. And I have a boyfriend of my own.”

“Ah, yes. Our handsome police chief. Let’s hope that relationship works out better than your marriage to our mayor and future member of Parliament. I always knew Michael Bains would make something of himself.”

I narrowed my eyes and fought the urge to press a pillow over his fat face. “We’ll just have to wait and see about that, won’t we? Speaking of police, Chief Redfern wants to talk to you.”

“I’m sure he does. But I have no intention of filing a complaint against Charles. Could you hand me that glass of water, please?”