Forty Words for Sorrow

The willing Florida girl, it turned out, had dug up the records of the sale. And because the boat was going to be delivered out of state (as much to avoid sales tax as anything else), they had required a photo ID. "Sergeant Langois sent me the fax this afternoon- not downtown, of course- a fax with a picture of Detective Sergeant Adonis Dyson."

"So until this afternoon you thought I was working for Kyle Corbett."

"No, John. I didn't know what to think. This setup, it was really because I wanted to rule you out as a suspect. I didn't know it would bring down Dyson. I didn't have that fax when I set it up."

"He must've known we'd be able to trace the receipt. What was he thinking?"

"There was no name on it. And he didn't know they had photocopied the ID in the back office and kept it on file. Anyway, these past couple of weeks, he's probably not been able to think. He's trapped between Kyle Corbett and Malcolm Musgrave, and he's scared. He probably just panicked."

"But you're saying he placed that receipt in my personal files, in my home. I can't believe he'd try to frame me. I mean, we weren't exactly friends, but… What about the condo? That must've looked pretty bad."

"I tried not to jump to conclusions. I know your wife is American. Her parents must be retirement age. A condo in Florida is not out of the question. I had my vacation friend check that out, too. By then, I of course have your wife's maiden name. She gets a condo from her parents, it's supposed to make you a criminal? I don't think so."

Cardinal could not begin to sort out the tangle of his emotions. "So does this mean you're finished investigating me?"

"Yes. It's over. Me, I'm out of Special, and you, you're in the clear."

Cardinal didn't feel ready to believe, either. And there were things he wanted to know: "Why'd Dyson do it? I mean, Corbett was a disaster from beginning to end. Absolute disaster. It was obvious someone was tipping the guy off, but I always assumed it was one of Musgrave's crew. When I ran that by Dyson all he said was, 'If you want to start investigating Mounties, do it on your own time.' Then Katie Pine disappeared, and Corbett was off my radar. Why'd Dyson do it? I don't love the guy, but I never pegged him for anything like this."

"Few years ago, he's feeling his retirement fund isn't everything it should be. He takes most of it and puts it into mining stocks. One of my finance teachers used to say, 'A mine is a hole in the ground owned by a liar.' In this case, he turned out to be right."

"Dyson sunk his money into Bre-X?"

"A lot of people did, John. Just not so much of it."

"Jesus." He gave it the briefest of pauses, then: "You searched my place, Lise. I wasn't sure you'd actually do that."

"Sorry, John. You have to see what position I was in: either search your place or get a warrant. When you told me to stay that night you had to go back to the office, I took it as your permission. I'm sorry if I was wrong." Those brown eyes, bright with flecks of firelight, searching his face. "Was I wrong?"

Cardinal waited a long time before answering. It was after four o'clock, and suddenly exhaustion hung about his shoulders like a leaden cape. Delorme was still wired from her triumph; she'd be running on the high octane of victory for hours to come. Finally, he said, "It may have been permission. I'm not really sure. That doesn't mean you had to take advantage of it."

"Okay, look, it wasn't nice. Every once in a while, I remember that a good cop- like a good lawyer or a good doctor- is not necessarily a nice person, or pleasant to be around. So, you and me, we don't have to work together if you don't want. You can take me off Pine-Curry and I'll understand. But me, I think we should finish out this case together." Togedder, she pronounced it, and Cardinal was so tired it made him smile.

"What?" she asked him. "What are you smiling about?"

Cardinal got up stiffly and handed Delorme her coat. She did up the snaps, looking at him the whole time. "You're not going to tell me, are you."

"Be careful driving home," he said softly. "That slush could freeze again anytime."

46

ERIC was getting on Edie's nerves. For several days he'd been completely serene, cheerful even. But now he was bossing her around all the time. First he wants her to make his dinner. Where the hell did that come from? Usually he couldn't stand to have her watch him eat. Suddenly he wants sausages and mashed potatoes, and she has to hustle out to the supermarket through a sea of slush to get them, soaking her feet. Then he eats in the living room by himself while she and Gram eat in the kitchen. Two days previously she had written in her diary: I love Eric with a terrible passion, but I don't like him. He's mean and selfish and cruel and a bully. And I love him.