“Right,” he said, slapping a couple of files on the desk and dropping into his battered leather chair. “One bit of good news in this miserable week. We can stop looking for Annie Littlewolf. Her partner died of natural causes, a heart attack to be exact. He wasn’t murdered, so Annie has no reason to be in hiding because we have no reason to believe she’s in danger.”
“Shouldn’t we still be trying to locate her though?” asked Kala. If they didn’t locate Annie, her lead to Dawn and Rosie would be lost.
“Social Services is on the lookout now. They’ll look after her when she turns up.” Rouleau looked at each of them in turn. “Initial forensics is in on Benny Goldstone. He was hit repeatedly with a blunt object from behind, which I can now confirm is the Inuit art sculpture from the showcase in the lobby. He was then dragged into the closet where most of the bleeding took place. It’s likely death occurred on the second blow, which crushed the back of his skull. He was standing near the exit door when struck. Whoever did it, superficially wiped up the blood in the hallway and dumped the paper towels into the trash inside the closet. The security camera in the parking lot didn’t record anybody coming or going around the time he was killed, but someone could have gotten around it if they knew how it’s angled. There were no prints so the killer likely wore gloves. Goldstone was a small man. Five seven and one hundred and thirty-five pounds; a man or woman could have moved him easily enough. He’d been with the firm five years, the last two as Max Oliver’s assistant. What have you found out about Goldstone’s home life, Malik?”
Malik flicked open his notebook. “Lived in a one bedroom in Hintonburg near Wellington for the last ten years. Graduated from Algonquin College with a business degree and worked for a high-tech company for several years before it went belly up. Took a job with Underwood and company a few years ago. Mother lives in Sandy Hill. Father deceased. No siblings. Never married.” Malik looked up and paused. “Benny curled in the rainbow league at the Ottawa Curling Club.”
“He’s gay?” asked Grayson.
“Looks that way.”
“Boyfriends?” asked Rouleau.
“Officially, no. However, there are rumours that he and Max Oliver had something going on. He frequented gay bars on Elgin and in the ByWard Market.”
Kala kept silent even though it was validating to know she’d pegged Max correctly.
“It can’t be a coincidence that both Oliver and Underwood were working on the same project. I still say all this has something to do with work,” Grayson said.
Rouleau looked at Kala. “Thoughts?”
“Work is a possible reason. The family connection is another.”
“Can you narrow that down?”
“Not yet.”
“Great,” said Grayson, letting them know it was not. “I say we pull in Oliver and Belliveau. The link has to be there.”
“Okay,” said Rouleau. “Malik and Grayson, you start redoing the interviews in their office, although most of the employees will have gone home by now since it’s New Year’s Eve. It’ll mean some driving around to find them, but see what you can do. Start with Max and J.P. and do the rest tomorrow. You might need to go back to Montreal to talk to Archambault. Bennett and Gage, start going through Benny Goldstone’s files and computer. Stonechild, stick with the family angle. Whelan will be back in January to give you a hand.”
They nodded and stood. Rouleau held up a hand. “One more thing. We have until January fifth before Major Crimes takes over the cases. We’ll move back into the supporting role.”
“That means we’ll still be doing the legwork but without the credit,” said Grayson.
Kala looked more closely at Rouleau. The tiredness in his eyes went deeper than this case. She’d noticed his suit in the dry cleaning bag hanging on the hook next to the door. Whatever New Year’s Eve party he was supposed to attend would likely be a miss. She wondered if it was important to him. “We should be wrapping this up before Major Crimes gets involved,” she said.
Rouleau smiled. “I’m not organizing a parade yet.”
Grayson said something under his breath to Malik. They sent Kala darting, sideways looks. Bennett and Gage exchanged equally disbelieving glances. The old boys’ club was closing ranks. Kala ignored them and went to get her coat. She knew where she had to go to get answers. It was just a matter of putting the pieces together.
She pulled over in front of a townhouse and picked up her phone from where she’d tossed it on the passenger seat. She checked the incoming call. It was Shannon trying to reach her again. She pressed talk and held the phone to her ear.
“Shannon? Everything okay?”
“You’re harder to reach than the Pope. I’ve left messages for two days already.”
“Sorry. I’ve been on a case. What’s up?”
“Jordan came by again. I told him you wouldn’t be coming home. That you took a job out of town and wanted him to forget about you. That it was over.”
“And?”
“Your plan worked. He moved back in with his wife. I hope that’s really what you wanted.”
“It is.” She shut a door in her mind.
“I honestly thought he’d hold out for you.”
“You’re a romantic.”
“Yeah. He didn’t say anything after I told him you’d gone for good. Just stood there for a minute, then nodded and walked away.”
“It’s for the best, Shan.”
“I guess. It’s just sometimes … you never let anyone in. Not really.” A pause. “Any news on finding your cousin?”
“I’m close, I think. It’s just a matter of time.”
“I hope you come home soon, Kala. We miss you like crazy.”
“I miss you too. How’s Taiku?”
“He’s moping around but eating.”
“I’ll try to call again soon.”
“Don’t forget about us. We aren’t going anywhere.”
Kala closed her eyes. “I promise I’ll call. You know I always keep my word.”
“I know.”
Kala snapped her phone shut and stared straight ahead. Or at least I try to.
Susan answered the door and led Kala into the living room. They sat at opposite ends of the couch.
“You’ve missed Clinton again. He had some errands to run.”
“It’s you I’ve come to see,” said Kala. “You’re looking better.” Susan’s colour had returned. Her eyes were clear amber. Kala felt the warmth of her smile.
“I am better. So, how can I help you, Detective?”
“You’ve heard about Benny Goldstone’s murder?”
“On the news, yes. It’s just awful. I didn’t know him particularly well, but it’s a horrible tragedy nonetheless.”
“I understand Max brought him to dinners and social events with the family.”
“Yes, but he was so quiet that I can’t say I knew him except to say hello and talk about the weather. He really was just a colleague of Max’s. I’m planning to go over to Geraldine’s later today. They must be reeling.” Her elegant ruby-ringed hand pushed back a lock of hair from her forehead.
“Do you have any idea why he would have been killed?”
“I