You look great,” said Rouleau. He should have filled her in on the dress code for the party. Another reason to feel like he’d neglected his duty.
She shrugged and smiled. “Even if I’d known it was fancy dress, I’d have worn this because I didn’t bring anything else. Clothes aren’t really my thing.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever met a woman who didn’t care about clothes.”
“Then say hello to your first.”
He steered her around a group of officers. “Whelan called. The baby is sick and he can’t make it. I’ve saved us a spot with Malik, his wife Annika, and Grayson over there by the exit sign. What would you like to drink?”
“A soda and lime.”
“Grab a seat and I’ll bring it to you.”
“Thank you, Sir,” said Kala.
“Call me Jacques.”
He walked over and leaned on the bar while he waited for his order. He looked over at the table. She’d chosen the empty seat next to Malik and his wife, leaving the seat beside Grayson for him. He wondered if Grayson had managed to alienate her already.
The opening speech by the head of the Police Services Board was followed by carrot soup, salad, and plates of roast turkey, mashed potatoes, and vegetables. Dessert and coffee rounded out the meal. Rouleau finished the last forkful of Baked Alaska and looked across at Stonechild. She’d eaten as much and as quickly as him. Their eyes met and he could see the amusement in hers as she lowered her fork onto her empty dessert plate.
“I didn’t realize how hungry I was,” she said. She patted her stomach. “I really shouldn’t have had that third dinner roll.”
Malik looked over. “You tuck in better than Whelan. He’s going to enjoy driving around with you.”
“As long as he likes fast food, we should do okay.”
Malik laughed. “Whelan cut his baby teeth on Big Macs and fries.”
“So what happens now?” asked Kala.
“More speeches and then the DJ starts,” said Malik.
Malik’s wife Annika leaned across and touched Kala on the wrist. “Why don’t we go to the washroom and freshen up before they start? It can be a long hour.”
Kala nodded. She instinctively liked this elegant woman dressed in a gold sari with red and silver threads woven into a border at the neck and hem. Gold bangles slid up and down when Annika moved her long, graceful arms. Her liquid black eyes searched Kala’s as if she could see inside to her core. When Annika leaned back, Kala could still smell the musk rising from her skin. Malik stood and helped his wife to her feet. He touched her back lightly with one hand before she stepped away to lead Kala toward the washroom.
The line was short and they didn’t have long to wait. They met again in front of the mirrors. Annika was refastening a comb that held back her hair in a tight bun. “So how do you like the force so far?” she asked. Her Indian accent was soft and lilting. Their eyes met in the mirror.
“I think I’m still having culture shock. I miss my home.” Kala surprised herself by this confession, but something about Annika reminded her of Shannon.
“I know what you mean. When I first arrived in Canada to marry Sandeep, I thought my heart would surely break. India has its problems, but it is still a most beautiful country. And Canada was so cold. It took me a long time to get used to the cold.”
“You must have loved Sandeep a lot to move to a new country.”
“On the contrary, I’d never met him before I came to Canada. Our families arranged our marriage.” Annika finished straightening her sari and turned to face Kala. “I’ve learned to love him. He is a fine man.” They started walking slowly toward the door. “Do you have anyone special?” asked Annika. “Back north where you come from?”
Kala didn’t want to talk about what she’d left behind, but she’d opened the door for this question. “I had someone, but it didn’t work out.”
Annika nodded, her eyes sad. “You’ve come at a tough time for the team,” she said. “Sandeep says you need to solve a high profile case soon or everything will stop. He would be sorry as he deeply respects Jacques Rouleau.”
“Oh? I had no idea.”
“Internal politics. I should say no more.”
They entered the main hall. A man’s voice boomed from the front of the room. Kala looked toward the microphone that had been set up on the makeshift stage. A bald, sharp-featured man was giving the punch line to a joke and laughter rippled across the tables. He was short but muscular in a hunter green turtleneck and brown suit jacket. She saw him looking in her direction.
“Inspector Vermette,” Annika said over her shoulder. “He tells dirty jokes, no matter the occasion.”
Kala sat down next to Rouleau and looked toward the stage then back at Rouleau. He leaned back in his chair, not smiling. His eyes were fixed on Vermette. She turned back, curious to watch the man everyone seemed to dislike. After Vermette finished speaking, a female officer invited everyone to mingle until the music started.
Rouleau stood. Kala looked in the direction of his gaze and stood just as Vermette reached their table, his hand outstretched. His grip was vice-like around her own. She kept herself from squeezing back as hard.
“Welcome to our little family. It’s nice to soften up Rouleau’s team with some femininity. Has Jacques organized your media training yet?”
She shifted her eyes to Rouleau. He shook his head very slightly. She looked back at Vermette. “I believe it’s in the works, but has to wait until after Christmas.”
“Of course,” said Vermette. “The holidays really mess us up. Too bad criminals don’t take the week off too. I’ll leave you in Sergeant Rouleau’s capable hands then. Enjoy the rest of the evening.” His eyes slid up and over her head, abruptly dismissing her as he stepped around her to join another table of men.
Kala turned to Rouleau and waited for him to explain.
“Thanks for that,” he said. “I meant to tell you about the training but the Underwood case took over.”
“Am I to be the minority face of the force?” she asked. She lowered her eyes. “Sorry, that was out of line.”
“No need to apologize. Let’s say Vermette could set racial relations back fifty years. Male-female relations too, for that matter. I’ll see about getting you signed up after the holiday.”
Kala stepped outside onto Preston Street. The temperature had dropped. When she exhaled, her breath streamed in front of her in a white plume. She pulled the hood of her jacket over her head and started walking. She’d stayed later than she’d planned, but officers kept coming over to be introduced. She pulled up her sleeve and glanced at her watch. Nearly two a.m. No wonder she was exhausted.
She was almost at the corner when she heard her name being called. At first she thought it was a mistake. She turned around, waiting for the red light to
