Hunter unlocked the Jeep and reached for the scraper. He started the engine to warm it up and began cleaning snow off the windshield as he talked. “I’ll follow you.” His hand stopped mid-motion like he’d just thought of something. He turned to face her. “You never said how he died.”
Kala hesitated. “I think it best you identify him. Then we can talk about how he died.”
He started to protest but stopped himself. Instead, he shrugged and raised the scrapper to the windshield. “Fair enough. I guess waiting another hour won’t make much difference, that is, if it really is my father.”
10
Friday, December 23, 11:30 a.m.
Rouleau walked with Kala and Hunter toward the room where Tom Underwood’s body was waiting for identification. He’d tried to prepare Hunter for what he was about to see, but he knew it would still be a shock to see his father’s body laid out on the table. Kala stood behind Hunter while he gave his recital, her face impassive. Surprisingly, she didn’t look tired. In fact, she looked like she’d just started her day. She made Rouleau feel old. There’d been a time he could go a few days and still perform, but not anymore. Between briefing Vermette and bringing Malik and Grayson up to speed, he’d managed a fifteen-minute cat nap in his office chair. It had left him feeling worse, not better.
He led Hunter and Stonechild into the viewing room. They lined up next to him and he grabbed the sheet. “Ready?” he asked.
Hunter nodded and Rouleau rolled the sheet carefully down from Underwood’s face and halfway down his chest.
Hunter took a step forward. His eyes swept the man on the table and then back to Rouleau. “That’s my father. Tom Underwood.”
“You’re certain?”
Hunter nodded.
“I’m sorry. We’ll do all we can to find who did this.” Rouleau glanced at Kala who’d also taken a step forward. She shook her head just as Hunter turned his full gaze on her. Rouleau realized his mistake. “Let’s step into the office next door. Perhaps you can answer a few questions and we’ll tell you what we know.”
Hunter nodded again and they filed into the coroner’s office. It was Spartan clean with a desk, computer, and a wall of filing cabinets. Posters of the human anatomy covered two walls. Hunter lowered himself into the one chair and bent forward, his elbows on his knees and his forehead in his hands. Kala leaned on a filing cabinet and Rouleau stood in front of Hunter, waiting for him to collect himself. It didn’t take long before Hunter looked up.
“Was my father murdered?”
Rouleau nodded. “He died in the trunk of his car. Preliminary findings are that he froze to death.”
“My God.”
“We’re not exactly sure when, but probably a few days ago. We’re running tests.”
“This is like a bad dream. My father wasn’t the easiest man to get along with, but for somebody to murder him in such a heinous way … it’s unthinkable.”
“You were estranged from your father until recently. Can you tell us why?”
Hunter slowly raised his head. “What you’re really asking if I could have murdered my own father? If I said I found that offensive, I don’t suppose it would matter to you.”
“We are a far cry from accusing anybody, but the sooner we start finding out the situation of everyone involved in your father’s life, the sooner we can solve who left him to die.”
“I see.” A look crossed Hunter’s face as if he was choosing what to reveal. Rouleau noticed and glanced over at Stonechild. The look in her black eyes signalled that she’d observed it too.
Hunter looked at a spot between them. “My father and I had a falling out about ten years ago. I didn’t like the fact that he was fooling around on my mother and told him so. When he left her, I ended contact with him.”
“You didn’t talk for all this time?”
“I live far enough out of Ottawa that we didn’t run into each other. I might have seen him leaving my mother’s once or twice but that was it. We didn’t seek each other out.”
“It seems like a long time to be upset about his affair.”
“I wasn’t upset after the first while. It was more I didn’t feel anything at all for him. He didn’t matter to me one way or the other.”
“Can you account for your movements over the last week?”
“I spent yesterday afternoon in town getting groceries and meeting friends at the pub. Other than that, I’ve been home working. I had a few pieces on commission to finish before Christmas.” He glanced at Kala as if seeking confirmation.
“Did you see anybody over this time?”
“Just customers.”
“We’ll need everyone’s name, including your pub friends. Jot down their addresses and phone numbers for me, would you?” Rouleau slid a pen and notepad across the desk.
Hunter complied, then tossed down the pen. “Is that all?”
“All for now.”
Hunter stood and started for the door. Rouleau called to him.
“Do you have any idea where Laurel Underwood might have gone? We’ve been trying to reach her to let her know what’s happened.”
Hunter stopped, his hand on the doorknob. “No idea. Sorry.” He didn’t turn around as he pushed open the door and kept moving.
Rouleau and Stonechild followed him into the hallway and watched him get into the elevator. Rouleau turned to Kala.
“He’s hiding something.”
She nodded. “I have the same feeling. He’ll be heading home now to tell his sister Geraldine what happened. She came by for lunch just before we left. I’m certain we can rule her out. She’s so pregnant there’s no way she could have gotten her father into the trunk.”
“She might have hired somebody to do it, or managed it with somebody else’s help. Maybe Hunter’s.”
“Hunter said that Geraldine and their father were close.”
“That might mean nothing. I’ve seen close family members kill each other over the most insignificant things.”
“You’re saying to keep an open mind.”
He smiled. “The first rule of investigation.”
“Any word from Whelan?” Kala asked.
“No. I’ve asked a squad car to go by his place and check in. I hope to have an answer soon.”
“There seem to be a few people missing. It’s like Ottawa has a black hole that people keep dropping into.”
He smiled again. “Sounds like the script for a science fiction movie. Let’s hope not. Vermette has already let me know that we’ll be running this investigation through Christmas season because staff in Major Crimes is at a minimum. One just had surgery, another two are off with the stomach flu, and of course there are the booked holidays. I’ve got Malik heading up a team at Tom Underwood’s office and Grayson at his home. They’re going through his things to see if there are any clues hidden in his effects. Underwood’s laptop and computers are already in the lab being gone over. You should go home and get some sleep.”
“If you need me, I’ll have my cell close by. I can be here inside of ten minutes.”
“Hopefully, we’ll both get time to rest. I don’t anticipate any news for a few hours at least. I’m going to stay down here for a bit.”