twenty dollar bills. And a few feet from the box I finally found the link to Marie’s killer. The exact replica of the elongated “y” footprint I’d seen on the beach where Marie had died. I knew Tommy hadn’t made it. Last night he’d been wearing Kodiacs.
And embedded in the track was a crushed cigarette. So Marie’s killer smoked. But since a lot of people smoked, I doubted it would provide much of a clue.
At that moment, I heard what I thought was a car door slam. I froze, then relaxed with the thought that the police had finally arrived. I debated returning to show them what I’d found, but figured they could follow the trail of blood as easily as I. Besides, LaFramboise would make me leave before I learned all I could about Marie’s killer.
I continued my search and found a small packet of new twenties lying on the ground. Was this the money Tommy had mentioned last night?
A faint glimmer caught my eye. Thinking it was more money, maybe some coins, I reached into the underbrush and laughed out loud when I pulled up a man’s gold link bracelet. A clue, I thought, a real clue to this killer.
“Hi Megs, what are you doing?” a voice suddenly said from behind me.
They say sudden shock can add years to your life. This one sure did.
“Good God, Gareth,” I said, slowly turning around, my heart pounding. “What are you doing here?”
I stared at the cigarette in his hand, not sure if I wanted to draw the obvious conclusion.
“I heard a noise, I came to check.”
“I mean this house, this property. Why are you here? How do you even know about it?” I started to back up, wondering when the police would finally arrive.
“Maybe I should ask the same of you?”
As I stepped back, my elbow knocked against a tree. A glimmer of gold slid from my hand and dropped to the ground. I reached down to pick the bracelet up and stopped.
Staring back at me was the initial “G”, engraved on the band.
THIRTY-EIGHT
Good. You found my gold bracelet,” Gareth said, looking smug in Polo tweed.
Amazed by his ready claim of ownership, I held up the heavy links with the damning letter. “You admit this is yours?”
“Of course. Give it to me.”
Gareth grabbed it. We tugged at the slippery links, then with one firm yank, I ripped it from his grasp and zipped it into my pocket.
“No way you’re having this. It’s evidence,” I said and regretted the words the minute they were spoken.
Deciding I’d better put some distance between Gareth and myself, I started walking towards the front of the house to where my truck was parked.
“What do you mean, evidence?” he said, catching up to me.
“You should know.” I quickened my pace. Was he bluffing, or did he really not know the meaning of this bracelet?
“Hey, hold on a minute. Know what?” He grabbed my arm and whirled me around.
I struggled to escape, but his hold was too strong. And suddenly I was plunged back three years to when he had held me just as tightly. It had ended when, in a fit of rage, partly as a result of my goading, he had thrown me against the kitchen counter and broken my arm.
This time I took a deep breath and very calmly said, “Gareth, let go of me.”
It worked. I felt his grip loosen.
“Not until you tell me what’s going on,” he said.
I scanned his face looking for signs and saw the bully I now knew was Gareth. But was it the face of a killer?
“Tommy Whiteduck’s been shot,” I said and slipped from his grasp. I turned and continued heading towards my truck, not quite sure if I wouldn’t be feeling the same kind of slug that had ripped through Tommy.
For a few seconds, the only sound was my beating heart and then, “Meg, stop!”
By this time I was running, desperate to reach the safety of my truck. I could hear his footsteps gaining. I raced along the side of the house, around the corner and almost tripped over a piece of one of Louis’s discards. I caught myself and sped towards my truck. Gareth’s import was parked a good distance behind. He grabbed me within arm reach of the truck door.
“Release my arm, Gareth.”
He glared back at me, then let go. “You saying I had something to do with this shooting?”
“The bracelet says you were here when Tommy was shot.” I placed my hand on the door handle.
“Wasn’t me. Someone ripped it off me a couple of days ago.”
“You expect me to believe that? Or the police?”
I opened the truck’s door. But before I could spring inside, Gareth slammed it shut.
“Hand it over. No way you’re going to incriminate me,” he said.
“Never,” I retorted, straining to hear the sounds that would tell me the police were finally coming to investigate Tommy’s shooting. I stared into his angry eyes and dared him to hurt me.
But he crossed his arms and leaned back on his heels. “I had nothing to do with Tommy’s shooting,” he said. “I just don’t want to get involved.”
“Afraid it’ll tarnish your oh-so-squeaky clean image?”
“Give me the bracelet, Meg.”
“If you’re so bloody innocent, why are you here?”
From his jacket pocket, he ripped out an envelope and threw it at me. It was addressed to Mr. Thomas Whiteduck. “Go on, open it,” he said. “It’s a job offer.”
“What did you do? Offer him thirty pieces of silver to betray his people?”
“I don’t know why you believe the mine will hurt those damn Indians. If anything, they’ll have more jobs than they’ll know what to do with.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.”
“Tommy’s father thought it was a good thing. He was the one who told us about gold. He and his partner.”
So I was right. Louis had been involved, and it probably explained the money Tommy’d found and the reason for Marie’s anger with Louis. Then I remembered what Eric had said about Louis’ involvement in a fake gold discovery some years ago and smiled inwardly. Wouldn’t it be a joke on Gareth and CanacGold if Louis had done it again?
“Who was his partner? Charlie Cardinal?”
Gareth picked up Tommy’s letter from the ground and returned it to his jacket pocket. “Nope,” he replied.
