Forty Words for Sorrow

Polyethylene sheeting had opened up around the body, giving it an unwrapped look, like something precious in a black gift box. The body itself, perfectly preserved by the cold, was curled up in an almost fetal position. The head was wrapped in a bundle stiffened with cold and black with blood. But Cardinal recognized the fabric; it was the seat cover from the couch upstairs. Why had he covered the head? The trousers, raveled about the shins, were black denim, the shoes were black Converse high-tops. Cardinal knew the particulars by heart: Caucasian male, last seen wearing…

Cardinal was aware of the nausea lurking in his belly but he ignored it. Forms passed through his mind, calls he had to make: the coroner, Delorme, the lawyers for the estate, the Crown Attorney. But even as these things flashed in his mind he was taking in the physical details: the cheap watch around the thin wrist, the shriveled and tormented genitals. Cardinal's heart went out to the parents, who would have to be informed, who would be clinging to the hope that their son was alive. Whether or not there was an afterlife, a dead person moved to a place beyond pain and shame and insult. So why did he now feel the same instinct he had criticized in Delorme- to cover the boy up?

CARDINAL was taking a break outside, grateful for the cold and the snow that kept the crowd of onlookers down to a manageable size. Between the coroner, the ident boys, and the body-removal service, the basement was so full of people and equipment it was impossible to move around. It was dark now, and the front yard was lit up like the CN Tower; there were cars all down the block.

A slight edginess was building inside him. He had done excellent work- no high-tech flash, but he had done good work, and had he been a better man, he told himself, and a better cop, he would have been enjoying the moment of satisfaction. He missed the honest cop he had been years ago, wished yet again he could undo the thing he had done, if only because it was spoiling this moment. If Delorme was investigating him, if she looked back far enough, she might find something. It was not likely, but it was possible; it could happen anytime. Just let me finish this case, he prayed to the God he sometimes believed in, just let me finish off the man who did this to Todd Curry.

A pack of media people pressed against the crime-scene tape surrounding the yard. This time it was not just Gwynn and Stoltz from the Lode. Not just Sudbury TV. The Toronto papers were here. The CBC again. CTV. Is it the Windigo? they all wanted to know. Cardinal had nothing to say beyond the bare particulars, until next of kin had been informed. The whir of motor drives was loud.

"Miss Legault? Can we talk a sec?" He steered her a little away from the pack.

"The Windigo," he said. "You must be proud of that one. Way they all picked up on it."

"Oh, come on. Windigo Island? It was only a matter of time."

"You came up with it, though. Don't sell yourself short."

"Two murders and it's only February. About twice what you'd normally get in an entire year, right?"

"Not really."

"Murders of this type. Obviously we're not talking about domestics. Look, what are the chances of a real interview? Off the record, no cameras." Those cool newscaster's eyes taking a reading on him. Cardinal thought of a cat watching a mouse.

"Believe it or not, things are going to be pretty hectic around here. I don't know if-"

"Believe it or not, TV news doesn't try to be stupid."

"Oh, no. I would never accuse you of trying."

Miss Legault pressed on. "So give me a break. Educate me."

She was looking earnest now, and Cardinal had a soft spot for earnest people. Catherine was earnest. So was he, probably. "If you call Katie Pine's killer the Windigo," he said, "you're only likely to get the guy's motor running."

"Is that a refusal?"

Cardinal pointed to the house. "Excuse me. Duty calls."

Body Removal- two men who worked for the local funeral homes when they weren't working for the coroner- came out of the house with the body bag and placed it in the back of the hearse. The younger of the two looked pretty shaky; he blinked in the glare like a mole.

Delorme came out a moment later. "So kind of you to call me in on this, partner. Such a colleague. Such a believer in teamwork."

"I called. You were out."

"If I was a man, you would have waited for me. If we're not going to work together, maybe I should go back to Special. You can explain to Dyson."

"You say that as if you left Special."

She looked him up and down, her eyes sweeping over him like searchlights. "You sound like McLeod, you know? If you're going to be paranoid, I can't stop you. But me, I'm not going to get dragged into it." She watched the hearse drive away. "They go straight to Toronto?"

Cardinal nodded.

"Arthur maudit Wood, I could kill that little bastard."

"You ready to drive to Toronto?"

"Tonight? You mean to Forensic?" Excitement changed her voice instantly. She sounded like a girl.