Meg Harris Mysteries 6-Book Bundle. R.J. Harlick
know what else to say. I knew how the government had forced the bands into electing chiefs back in the twenties because it believed inherited chief rights was undemocratic. Whether this was good or bad, I didn’t know, I just wanted to avoid a confrontation with Hélène.
She snorted again. “Yup, Eric made a big fuss over Charlie passing out booze for votes. Don’t know why, we always done that. But Eric made such a stink about running an honest election that the band voted him in.”
“Well, from the newness of his big truck, I’d say Charlie’s not hurting.”
Hélène looked up from her magazine and directly into my eyes. “He got lucky. Went away after the election and made some good contacts.”
She continued leafing through the magazine. She snorted every now and then when she turned to a particularly captivating island picture.
I sipped my coffee and watched the time. I was surprised Marie hadn’t yet arrived. Although I was beginning to wonder if she’d forgotten, I decided to wait until six o’clock.
I thought over the implications of Charlie’s shiny new truck in sharp contrast to the rusted-out wrecks of most band members. “Looks like Charlie has some connection to this mine, if he doesn’t want Eric to screw the deal,” I suggested.
Hélène continued turning the pages of her magazine.
“Any idea what it is?” I asked.
She turned another page, stared at the glossy picture, then looked up. She spewed out some smoke, shrugged her shoulders and said, “Charlie only wants the mine ’cause Eric don’t.”
“Maybe he’s working for this mining company, CanacGold?”
Hélène snorted and almost choked on her smoke. “Charlie work for someone, you gotta be kidding.” She pointed to a photograph of a white sandy beach lined with palms and turquoise waves. “Boy, what I wouldn’t give to go to some place like this. You been to one of these places, eh?”
Realizing I wasn’t going to learn any more about Charlie, I told her about my one and only trip to the Caribbean, a lifetime ago, when Gareth was still the man I married. And then he discovered ambition.
When the clock reached six o’clock, I gave up on Marie and left with Hélène’s “I told you so” ringing in my ears. Annoyed that Marie hadn’t bothered to come, I headed home. If she really had something for me, she could come to my place. I wasn’t going to drive around on these miserable roads in the dark looking for her.
Partway home, I changed my mind. It wasn’t like Marie not to live up to her promise. Maybe something had prevented her, like Louis, who might have returned early from his traplines. I headed to her place on the edge of the reserve. I watched for her along the way, but my truck’s lights only lit up the eyes of a raccoon sneaking into the underbrush.
When I reached the lane to her place, I fully expected to see light filtering through the trees. Instead there was only darkness. However, I still thought she was home, just hadn’t turned on a front light.
I turned in and followed the narrow track through the woods until I almost collided with a pile of firewood that some stupid fool, probably Louis, had dumped smack in the middle. I jumped out, picked my way on foot around the logs and stopped at the sight of her darkened house, with not even a glow of light from the back to say she was home.
“Marie! You there?” I shouted.
Silence.
I called again.
I debated going right up to the door but decided against it. The thought of continuing through the rustling night was more than I could manage. I was afraid of the dark. Had been since I was a child. And with today’s near escape still fresh in my mind, I was even more on edge.
I walked back towards the security of the halo behind the woodpile. So I was being a chicken, but it was obvious Marie wasn’t home. And I didn’t have to worry about Louis. No sign of his truck meant he was still miles away in the bush.
Wondering where Marie could be, I finally remembered that tonight was bingo night, Marie’s addiction and the one thing that could make her forget her meeting with me. I thought of driving to the Rec Centre to ensure she was there, but I was annoyed. I’d go home instead.
NINE
I followed the ribbon of light through the dark to Three Deer Point. My annoyance with Marie waxed and waned with each jarring bump along the main road and up the lane to my cottage. One moment I was trying to excuse her no-show with “bingo”, one of the few joys in her hard life. Next moment, I was deciding it was intentional. She was angry with me for pestering her about Aunt Aggie and Whispers Island.
Whatever her reason, I would go back to her place first thing tomorrow morning before she left for work and ensure that this time she told me what she refused to share with me yesterday. I hoped it could be used to help us fight the gold mine. From what I’d learned at the store, Eric and I were going to need all the help we could get to fight Charlie Cardinal and his groupies.
When I reached the looming shape of my cottage, I swore even harder. Except for the faint blemish from the timer light in the front room, the building had been all but consumed by the moonless night. In my haste to meet Marie, I’d forgotten to turn on the outside flood lights. Keeping them lit in the dark hours was a habit I’d adopted after I’d managed to survive my first traumatic night all alone at Three Deer Point, a terrifying night with no city lights to banish the darkness. I’d since managed to overcome my fears through pigheaded determination not to give in to such childish behaviour and by leaving on a few lights. Still, there were those moments when my imagination suddenly shifted into overdrive, and I’d sit up wide-eyed with the sound of adrenaline throbbing in my ears.
Like now. Images of lurking yellow were convincing me my attacker was here waiting for my return. I stayed in the truck and tried to bring the waves of panic under control by counting slowly to twenty and telling myself this was ridiculous. I strained to see through the darkness, ears, eyes alert for anything that didn’t belong. From inside the house, Sergei barked. But it was his high pitched greeting yelp, not his deep warning woof. I relaxed a bit and waited.
Finally, I gathered up my nerve and raced up the stairs into the house. I locked the door, switched on the hall light and giggled. What a ninny I was. Of course, there was no one in the house. Why would there be? Sergei seemed to agree. With his usual jubilance, he greeted me as if I’d been away a month, then after a few pats returned nonchalantly to his sofa. He wasn’t concerned about unknown visitors.
Still, I immediately turned on all the outside lights. If anyone intended to sneak up on me, I wanted plenty of warning. Unfortunately, while the immediate woods were flooded with light, anything beyond was blotted out of existence. But I did have my early warning system in place, Sergei.
After double-checking all the outside doors to ensure they were locked, I stoked the fire and filled the silence with the Gypsy Kings, the liveliest CD I owned. I started to pour myself the usual calming tonic but remembered Eric’s admonishment. Maybe he was right. Maybe I was drinking too much. So I shoved the bottle aside, sank into the chesterfield in front of the fire and tried to relax on my own.
It was ridiculous, all these precautions. Just my nerves taking over. There was no reason for the guy in yellow to come here. As Eric said, this guy was only protecting his interests on Whispers Island. As long as I didn’t interfere with the claim, he’d leave me alone.
Gradually, I calmed down as the heat of the fire wrapped me in a cocoon of soothing warmth. I sank deeper into the cushions, while the Gypsy Kings’ dancing guitars swirled around me.
As I contemplated the flickering orange, my eyes wandered to the mantel, to Aunt Aggie’s amazing wedding photograph perched beside Sergei’s china cat. She and her unknown husband appeared just like any other newly married couple, shy with each other, but with a hopeful earnestness in their smiles.
I found it a very sad picture. This happy looking Agatha