“They did? And what would that be?” Susan turned her tawny eyes on Kala, her eyebrows were raised, her expression perplexed but cautious.
“They were both having affairs.”
Susan was the first to look away. “This is a serious accusation to make against two people who cannot defend themselves.”
“Most people would have asked who with, but you already knew, isn’t that right?”
“I just said that I don’t know Benny Goldstone. I can’t pretend to know who he’s sleeping with.”
“But you must have figured out that he and Max are more than just colleagues.”
“I wasn’t certain, but I had a feeling.”
“And Tom Underwood. How long had it been going on?”
Her eyes flickered like candles. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“I think you do.”
Susan stood abruptly and walked toward the window. She cradled her arms across her chest. Kala waited. It was almost a minute before Susan spoke without turning.
“I loved Tom from the moment I laid eyes on him. We were made for each other, but Pauline got to him first. Laurel was an infatuation. Neither was his soul mate.” She walked back to the couch and looked down at Kala. “We were lovers, yes. It began six months ago when Clinton was at the base. We had plans to move away together. Tom was going to get a divorce … or not. It didn’t matter to either of us. I was going to separate from Clinton in the new year, and no, Clinton didn’t know. As you may also have guessed, he is controlling. We worried about his reaction.”
“I’m not here to judge you, Mrs. Halliday. I’m only seeking the truth. How can you be sure that Clinton didn’t know?”
“I don’t know how he could have. He was always away and we were extremely discreet. I told nobody and neither did Tom.”
“But you’ve wondered.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “The car running out of gas. Clinton said he was driving home from Trenton when it happened, but I just couldn’t be sure.”
“I’ve asked before. Has your husband ever been violent? Do you have reason to fear what he might do to you if he found out?”
“He likes to control. I suppose you might call it violence. I really don’t know what he’s capable of doing. Why would he hurt Benny though? Me and Tom yes, but why Benny? It makes no sense.”
“No reason that we know of … yet. I have the same question if the murders are work-related. Why were you also targeted? I have no doubt you could have died out there alone in the woods with night coming on.”
Susan shuddered. “There’s a part of me that wishes it had happened.”
Kala stood. “Is there someone you could stay with until this is over?”
“We’re out tonight at a dance at the Hunt Club and then Clinton is returning to the base in Trenton by lunchtime. I’ll be fine.”
“You still have my cellphone number. Call me any time, day or night. You can also call 911 if you feel threatened. Keep your phone with you at all times. If you find any evidence that Clinton was involved, don’t confront him. Call me and we’ll handle it. Unfortunately, we haven’t any concrete evidence on which to bring him in for questioning, but I’ll be pursuing this new line of enquiry.”
Susan laughed. “I’m not as convinced that I’m a target as you seem to be. I promise to be careful though. I’ll even key your phone number into my phone.” Fear froze her features. “You can’t let Clinton know about me and Tom. He probably doesn’t know. Promise you won’t say anything.”
“The last thing I would do is put you in more danger. I’ll keep this confidential. In the meantime, I’ll see if I can arrange for an officer to patrol by your house until we have more to go on.”
“I hope you’re wrong about this.”
“I hope so too.”
32
Saturday, December 31, 7:30 p.m.
Rouleau was alone in the office when Kala knocked on his closed door. She stepped inside upon his call to enter, leaving the door ajar. He stood near the window dressed in the suit she’d seen hanging next to the door.
“Going to a party tonight, Sir?” she asked as she joined him at the window.
“Something like that. I have to put in an appearance. You’re in the office late. Any plans this New Year’s Eve?”
“No. I might take a trip to the ByWard Market and walk around. It’s milder than it’s been.”
“I could meet you for a drink after this reception. I’ll be in the vicinity.”
She studied the rigid line of his shoulders. He was preparing himself for something he didn’t want to do. “I’d like that. Name a time and place and I’ll be there.”
“Is there something you want to discuss about the cases now?”
“It can wait until we meet up if you don’t mind talking work on a night that should be dedicated to partying.”
“I’ll look forward to it. Let’s meet at Vine’s wine bar at ten thirty. Do you know where that is?”
“I’ll find it.”
He looked at his watch. “I have to be going. You should take off too.”
“I just want to check a few things. I won’t be long behind you.”
“Good. See you in a bit then.”
Kala poured through the reports, beginning with Tom Underwood’s disappearance. His affair with Susan Halliday and their plans to leave their spouses gave the information a different focus. Who would lose the most if they carried through with their plan? Who would be angry enough to kill? Had Benny Goldstone known something the murderer wanted covered up? It was possible the murders were unrelated, but it wasn’t likely. Odds were they were killed by the same person. Logic dictated there was a link. She might have believed the murders were work-related if but for the attempt on Susan Halliday. Someone was making them pay. Clinton? Max? Hunter? Laurel? They all had reason. She just had to find the missing piece to make everything tumble into place. Maybe discussing it with Rouleau would give new insight.
At nine, she wearily turned off her computer and put on her coat. She found her phone in her pocket and checked for messages, relieved to find that nobody had tried to reach her. Perhaps, it would be a quiet night. She stopped at the main desk on her way out and spoke to the sergeant about having an officer patrol by the Hallidays’ overnight. He said that he’d see what he could do.
She thought about heading back to her room to change, but she didn’t have anything better to wear than what she had on. Instead, she made a stop in the washroom to loosen her braid and comb her hair. Rather than tie it back again, she left it loose around her face. She washed with the soap from the dispenser and patted her skin dry with paper towel, then dug around in her bag until she found lip gloss. Next to Rouleau, she’d be underdressed but he probably wouldn’t care. For certain, she didn’t.
The ByWard Market was busier than she’d ever seen. People were in a party mood, spilling onto the sidewalks in front of the bars and milling around in groups talking and laughing. Blasts of music assailed her ears whenever a door opened. The restaurants were brimming with customers sitting in tables of four or more; Christmas wreathes and strings of lights decked the buildings like party favours.
She spent a half hour walking down side streets, looking in windows and keeping an eye out for a young Aboriginal girl. At nearly ten o’clock, she reached the Fish Market restaurant.