“And he's not answering his cell,” she continued. “Try the shop. That's where he hides when he wants to avoid me.”
Ray had made his mark as a developer in the region and had a gleaming office in the new industrial park on the outskirts of Madden. Gabe knew, however, that his heart had always been more into plumbing than contracting apartment complexes and strip malls. He enjoyed working with his hands.
When Gabe pulled up to the old Stanfield's Plumbing shop, Ray's car was the only one on the deserted downtown side street. Few businesses opened on Sundays in Madden, especially in the evening. It wasn't out of respect for any religion or even so that people could spend more time with their families. Sunday was bonspiel day in the winter and tournament day in the softball season. The common devotion in Madden was to curling and baseball. Even if you didn't play, you showed up to watch.
He tried the front door of the shop, but it was locked tight. Shading his eyes, he peered through the window. The front office was deserted. He made his way around back and tried the door next to the loading bay. It opened easily. Gabe called Ray's name, but there was no response. He walked down the dark hallway toward the sound of a television. Then he saw him. Ray was slouched on a worn sofa in the corner. A beer sat lopsided on his lap as he intently watched the hockey game.
“Hey, Ray,” said Gabe. “You know Marlena's ready to knock your balls off if you don't get back to the house.”
Ray looked at him, took a swig of his beer then looked back at the television. “She took my balls years ago. What else have I got to lose?” Looking weary and deflated, he turned his attention back to the game. The Canucks were playing the Red Wings. Gabe watched in silence with him for a few moments, glancing at Ray's hand to confirm that, as Daphne had said, he wasn't wearing a wedding ring.
“I've got a conflicting report of where you were this morning.”
Ray took another swig of his beer, his eyes on the screen.
Gabe waited him out.
Ray drained his beer. “I don't regret what I did this morning.” He put the empty on the floor beside the couch.
Gabe counted three bottles. Ray opened another and held it out to Gabe, who just shook his head. Ray shrugged and took a long pull.
“I've been a fool for a long time now. Ever since Marlena hustled me twenty-five years ago. Did you know that I'm not allowed to contact Sarah and my other kids? I promised Marlena when we first got together.” He paused long enough to shake his head. The Canuck goalie let one slide through and the Detroit crowd went wild. “Fool,” moaned Ray, “that's what I am. A damned fool.” He was looking straight ahead with a dead stare, no longer watching the players skate across the ice.
Gabe nodded then asked, “How did it make you feel when Marlena paid so much attention to Roger?”
“How would it make you feel? Well, I got her good this morning, didn't I?” He took another swig.
“Does she know?” asked Gabe.
Ray looked down at his shoes and shook his head. “I may be stupid but I'm not crazy.”
“I need to hear from you where you were this morning, Ray.”
“You looking for your jollies? I was in a motel room in Elgar getting humped by a beautiful broad. Happy?” he asked.
“You were on the invitation committee. Do you know how the decision was made to add names to the list?”
“You mean the two girls?”
“Right. Joan and Daphne.”
“Peg phoned a few weeks ago and suggested it. And I was madder than a pit bull that she wanted them here. You know why?”
Gabe shook his head.
Ray whispered, barely mouthing the words. “'Cause,” he swallowed, “Marlena told me I had to be mad. Personally, I didn't give a shit one way or another.”
“Do you think someone might have suggested it to Peg?”
Ray shrugged. “Never thought of it.” He considered for a moment. “Don't know why they would.”
“And this thing with Daphne?” asked Gabe.
“A few extra pounds on a woman, wow. It makes her feel different. And she didn't put me down once.”
“Did she mention Roger?” asked Gabe.
“That's the strange thing. Her hate-on for Marlena is as fresh as yesterday, but she doesn't remember Roger, even though they dated.”
“Didn't he date all the girls?” asked Gabe.
“He slept with all the girls. Daphne and Rog, they were actually a serious item. She was the one who broke it off.”
“You remember it all pretty clearly,” said Gabe.
“When you're in a band together you're like brothers. You love âem and hate âem at the same time, but you can't live without them.”
“Do you know why Roger and Daphne broke it off?”
Ray shrugged again. “I figured it was her parents. You remember how they were.”
Gabe did remember. Mr. and Mrs. Pyle made no secret that they thought Madden High School was Satan's leg trap. He had a vague memory that Daphne was forbidden to participate in field trips or after-school activities. Whenever she hung with the other kids there was the unspoken acknowledgement that her dad might drive up at any moment and drag her away. Daphne didn't fight back. She'd just sneak out the next day, and the next.
“Why do you think Daphne felt so strongly about Marlena?”
“Gabe, you know my wife. She's out to win. If that means other people lose,” he looked Gabe directly in the eye, “even better.”
The first period of the game ended and Ray started stacking bottles into the case. Gabe helped him lock up and dopped him off at his own party.
Joan hoped that the drugstore remedy would work before she had to go to the Stanfields'. She sprayed her nostrils with saline. This sinus thing, combined with the medication, dulled her sense of smell. She couldn't risk losing it. In the meanwhile it was time to return Mort's multiple calls.
“Hey, babe, I keep trying your cell in case your reception kicks in.” Mort was obviously happy to hear her voice.
“The local cell tower is decorative.” Joan was bracing herself to make this as painless as possible. “Mort, being away has given me perspective. It makes me realize that we're spending too much time together. We're separated.”
“We're still friends. You laugh at my jokes and I give you great back rubs.”
Despite his enthusiasm, she could detect the tension in his voice. They both knew what was coming. So much was now clear. Mort had given her a refuge. He'd made her feel safe and comfortable, but he'd never made her skin tingle when he touched her. She'd never felt passion with Mort, or anyone else, like she had with Gabe last night. At forty-eight, she had finally experienced the best sex in her life. It made her take stock.
“Mort, when we get back I think we should not see each other any more.”
“C'mon Joan. Don't be harsh. You're over-reacting to the death . . . ”
“Deaths,” she interrupted.
“What?”
She explained about Peg. “And I'm not over-reacting to anything, Mort. Quit psychoanalyzing me. You're not a shrink.”
“No, I'm your husband.”
“Give it up, Mort. We haven't lived together in months and I know you're dating other women.” She waited for him to deny it, but he didn't. They were holding onto each other for all of the wrong reasons.
She got off the phone and was going to call Vi to find out if there were any other tidbits her mom had left out in their last conversation, but she looked at the clock. She was already late for cocktails at Marlena and Ray's.
As she drove over the tracks and up the hill, she silently reviewed her accumulated knowledge on the case. Scant, at best. Although she had more suspicions, she was no further ahead with actual facts than she had been this morning. Red and blue lights flashed in her rearview mirror. She glanced at her speedometer. No problem there. No playground zone in sight either. Then she realized who it was. She pulled to the curb and waited in her car. Instead of coming to the driver's side, Gabe tapped on the window of the passenger side. Joan unlocked the door and he slid in beside her.
“Is this your idea of discreet?” Her tone was sterner than she'd intended, but she didn't apologize. The weight of the situation was catching up with her.
“I tried your cell,” he said.
“Welcome to no-man's land.” This time she allowed the hint of a smile. “Sorry, Gabe, but I can't stop thinking about Peg. Was it a coincidence that she died right after Roger?” His silence told her nothing. “She was the only person who could completely clear me.”
“Clear you or Daphne,” added Gabe.
“Or Daphne,” agreed Joan. “What if we're targets of some kind? Has she gone back to Calgary?”
“She wants this cleared up before she leaves town, same as you.”
He wasn't telling her everything. She gently prompted him. “And?”
“And there's another reason she's here that has nothing to do with the case.” He paused. “And I'm not sharing this with you in my official capacity. I'm not sure it has anything to do with the case, but I trust you and I need that analytical brain of yours.” He paused again. “Daphne and Ray . . . have a thing.”
“You mean?”
He nodded. “Yeah, they're sleeping together. At least they did. I don't know if it was a one-time thing.”
She shook her head in disbelief. Who would have thought that skinny little Ray Stanfield would be the pin-up boy of Madden High? Certainly not her and probably not Ray himself. Sarah, Marlena, and now Daphne? “Must be leftover adolescent hormones,” she said.
“Maybe.” They looked at each other, the big question hanging silently between them. Is that what it was between the two of them, hormones, a one-time thing? Gabe continued with an awkward, slightly deeper tone, his professional voice. “Spending time with you, re-living those early years, is helping me put the case together.”
“That's assuming that the murder is tied to our past,” she said. She knew that this was her chance to tell him the truth. She started carefully, reluctantly. “Last Friday wasn't the first time that Roger attacked me.”
Gabe's mouth opened, but it was several more moments before he made a sound. “When?”
“The Labour Day Party.” She could see him putting the pieces together: her disappearance, her lack of interest in fulfilling their secret pact to lose their virginity together. “He tried to rape me, Gabe.”
“What?” His confusion was replaced by anger.
“I went into the woods by myself, to throw up.” She smiled sadly. “That damn gin, you know? I heard footsteps behind me. I guess he followed me. He pulled me into the bush. It was so dense and dark.” She kept her voice even and calm as she explained how she had barely managed to fend him off. “After that all I can remember is sitting among the trees on the dead leaves, crying. I was too embarrassed, probably too drunk, to move, then I fell asleep or passed out. The sun was coming up and kids were straggling home by the time I had the wherewithal to pull my jeans back on. Then you and Hazel found me.”
Gabe's voice was distant. “You had puke all over your shirt.”
She nodded. “You took me home. Hazel told my parents that I'd slept at her house. I didn't dare say anything after that. A couple of weeks later my dad died. Life took over. I barely ever thought of it until he tried it again on Friday night.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
She reminded him what the sexual landscape had looked like in 1979. It was rare for girls to complain about being attacked. “You remember Doris?” she asked. She didn't have to say more. The landmark case was imprinted on their brains. Doris Welch had had the guts to try to press rape charges against two hefty teenagers after a night of drinking in a local bar. She'd gained consciousness with a two-hundred pound footballer on top of her. Just when the defence lawyers had started to quake in their boots at the brutality of the crime, the judge came back with a not guilty verdict. He cited the fact that she hadn't been wearing underwear as one of the primary reasons for the rape. In the days before thongs, avoiding panty lines was tantamount to inviting rape. “That kind of court decision is enough to shut anyone up.”
Gabe was quiet, then took her hand. “I'm surprised you ever wanted to look at a man again.” He looked distracted and worried.
“What's the matter?” she asked.
“The system hasn't changed all that much.” He continued carefully. “The fact that Roger attacked you twice, if anyone finds out I know . . . ”
“I want to put it on the record, the official record,” she insisted.
“I've gotta think about this Joan.” He covered his eyes, as though the light was suddenly too much.
“I have to, Gabe. You know I do,” she insisted.
He let out an audible breath. “Okay.” He nodded slowly. “I'll write up a report. Smartt may want to talk to you again. I'll do my best to keep the hounds from your door.”
It frightened Joan that her past might draw attention. She'd always been a private person, more so with age. She nodded firmly, accepting the risk.
“Gabe, if Peg didn't die of a stroke . . . ” She paused. “Who would be after both Peg and Roger?”
Gabe shook his head. “Roger, I get. It's unfortunate, but there are several people who might have wanted to see him dead. Peg, that's another story.” He shrugged.
“Did she piss somebody off thirty years ago?” Joan ticked off the possibilities: “Or could she have identified Roger's killer? As the reunion chairperson she would have been in touch with everyone who came as well as those who didn't. Or is there some maniac out there randomly killing the Class of '79? ”
Suddenly the list of suspects exploded.
Gabe took her hand. “Unless we get confirmation that Peg's death was something besides natural causes, let's not speculate. I'd better drive my own truck to the Stanfields, otherwise the whole town will be talking.” He swung open the door, but before climbing out he leaned toward her and kissed her. His tongue tenderly separated her lips. Moments passed until out of the corner of her eye Joan saw a vehicle slow. She gently pushed Gabe away and they both watched Des Cardinal drive past. Gabe winced and climbed out. After the squad car had disappeared around a corner, he dipped his head back inside. “Sorry about that.” Then he was gone.