She looked over at Wingate, but he couldn’t tell what her look meant.

“You’re sure? Okay, I understand. Now, we faxed a second set of prints up there… that’s right. From the Port Dundas OPS, sender’s name was Fraser…” She listened. “I need you to doublecheck that. You’re certain? Thank you, Fredricks. Put all that stuff back where you found it now, and not a word to anyone. I appreciate this.”

She turned back to face Wingate. “He didn’t do it,” she said. “He didn’t kill Brenda Cameron.”

Wingate looked down at the still form in the basket. Calberson had relieved Childress of her warming duties and was putting a tube in the back of Eldwin’s hand, running fluids into him. “Poor bastard,” he muttered.

“Let’s get this man to hospital.”

Quinn ascended, cutting wide back over the shore, heading southwest to Mayfair. Below them, the sunrise was spreading its pale, orange light. The rain had finally stopped. “Figures,” said Childress. “Now that we’re at the easy part it lets up.” Hazel was watching her, and gradually, feeling the woman’s eyes on her, Childress brought her gaze around. “What?”

“You want to go home?”

“And face the ridicule of my colleagues? No thanks, I’m putting in for a transfer.”

“You helped to save a man’s life. That’s not nothing.”

Childress had retreated into herself, lost in thought. Finally, she said, “I’ve been on some wild goose chases… but this one…”

Hazel leaned across the cabin and patted Childress’s knee. “I hope you have that medal you were going to pin on yourself.” Childress smiled into her lap. “Quinn?” The captain acknowledged her. “We’re going to be passing close by Kehoe River in a couple minutes, right?”

“Should do.”

“How much of a crimp does it put in your flight time to put down for a minute? I’ve got cars down there and I can double back to Mulhouse Springs and get Eldwin’s wife, bring her down to the hospital.”

Quinn looked back over his shoulder. “I’m under the impression every minute counts.”

Calberson said, “Probably a good idea to have next-of-kin present.”

Quinn nodded and looked back out his missing windshield. Kehoe River was ten kilometres in front of him. Hazel radioed the community policing office that they needed a car. “Tell them to bring it to the parking lot of the Giant Tiger,” said Quinn, and she relayed the information. They passed over the town and Quinn put down in the empty parking lot.

“I’ll take Childress,” Hazel said to Wingate. “Then I can drive her back to Toronto after stopping at Mayfair. You see Eldwin gets the attention he needs.”

He looked back and forth between them, then offered Constable Childress his hand. “Thanks for your help.”

“Yeah,” she said, a little stunned. “Okay.”

Hazel thanked Quinn, Tate, and Calberson and then the two women stepped down onto the parking lot surface. They moved back and Quinn took the rest of his passengers up again. He’d got down and off-loaded them in less than two minutes. They watched him angle down Main Street as one of the cars from the Kehoe River office pulled up. “You mind walking back?” Hazel asked the driver, as she slid into the passenger seat. “We have to get down to Mulhouse Springs in a hurry.” The officer touched his cap and she watched him get smaller in the rearview mirror.

36

They were in Mulhouse Springs in twenty minutes and Hazel had to wake Officer Childress up. The lights were off in the Eldwin house, but all it took was a light knock to bring it to life and Claire Eldwin opened the door tying a housecoat around herself. The moment she saw Hazel on her doorstep, she began to cry. “Oh no, no…”

“He’s alive,” said Hazel. “But barely.”

“Oh, thank God -” said Eldwin, stepping forward to embrace her. Hazel held her a moment, and then Eldwin stepped back and pushed her hair off her cheeks. “He’s going to make it, right? Tell me he’ll make it.”

“He’s at Mayfair General. They’re going to do their best. But we’d better get you down there quickly just the same.” She stepped into the house. “This is Constable Childress. She helped with the search.”

“Thank you,” said Eldwin, taking her hand. She looked disoriented and exhausted. Hazel guessed that the bottle had been her companion the night before. “You’re soaked. Have you been out all night?”

“All night,” confirmed Childress.

“You must be freezing. I’ll put on some coffee and get dressed.” She disappeared into the kitchen. They heard the beeps and grinding of the coffeemaker being started. “It’ll take three minutes. Make yourself at home.”

They went into the kitchen and Childress opened the fridge. It was nearly empty, but she found a carrot in the crisper and began to eat it. “Sorry, I’m starving.”

“Go ahead,” said Hazel. She watched the coffeemaker fill. Her eyes were drifting over the cupboards and countertops and she thought she might fall asleep in the chair. But her night was not over yet.

Eldwin returned in jeans and a black shirt and poured the coffees. She had a bag full of clothes for her husband. “Should we take the coffees with us?”

“No,” said Hazel. “Maybe you should sit for a couple minutes with us. So we can prepare you.”

“God,” said Claire Eldwin, sitting. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“It’s not good. He was set adrift in a canoe, wrapped in cloth, and it rained on him all night. He was barely alive when we found him, half drowned and freezing. He didn’t have much of a pulse.” She waited a moment as Eldwin took this in. “Mrs. Eldwin, he’s missing a hand.”

Claire set her coffee down with a jolt. “Oh no -”

“There’ll be time to explain everything later. But I just want you to be prepared.”

Eldwin stood. “We should go.”

“Just another minute. There’s more.”

She sat.

“Your husband’s innocent.”

“I told you he couldn’t have done it. He might be an unrepentant cheat, but he’s not a killer.”

“I guess you knew him better than we did.”

“I am his wife,” she said. Hazel turned to Childress, as if looking for confirmation of something, and when she brought her eyes back, Claire said, “What else?”

“There’s this,” said Hazel. She reached into her jacket and took out the book she’d bought in Toronto. She tossed it onto the table and watched Claire Eldwin’s reaction. “Before we go, I’m wondering if you’d sign this?” It was a mystery novel called Utter Death, by Clarence Earles. Claire Eldwin extended her hand slowly and picked it up. She held it almost tenderly. “I thought the inheritance story I heard sounded like a load of bull.”

“Clarence has been very good to us,” she said. She turned it over. “This is an early one. I started it before Colin and I met. Taking his class helped me finish it.”

“Did Colin even know he had a story in the Westmuir Record?”

Eldwin was still staring at the back of the book. “No,” she said softly. “He got the New York Times. He thought the local papers were garbage. There was no risk he’d see it.”

“But someone else did.”

“Clearly,” said Eldwin. She turned the novel idly in her hands and looked at the back cover.

“I’m betting Colin didn’t even know it’d been published under his name until they showed it to him. Imagine what your husband’s denials must have sounded like. Pretty far-fetched. I bet it made them bloody mad.”

“I stopped writing it when Colin vanished. Then more chapters appeared.”

“I’ve spent two weeks reading between the lines. Joanne Cameron was almost right, she just had the wrong Eldwin.”

“I never meant -”

“Three years is a long time to live with the kind of secret you’ve been keeping, Claire. I guess you never imagined what it might cost to get it out of your system. He might die for your sins now, too.”

“They’re his sins as well.” She looked at Hazel for the first time. “Putting two and two together is impressive, Detective Inspector. But it won’t stand up in court. If you’ve ever read these books, you’ll know deduction isn’t the same as proof.”