A Matter of Malice by Thomas King

Author:Thomas King
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins Canada
Published: 2018-12-06T16:00:00+00:00

Twenty-Four

The no-parking zone in front of the hotel was getting crowded. The sheriff’s cruiser was still there. The green Audi was idling right behind it.

“Mr. DreadfulWater.” Gloria Baker-Doyle hurried around the car and opened the back door. “Could we have a moment of your time?”

“Is that the royal plural?”

“Very good,” said Gloria, “but no. It’s the regular plural.”

Sydney Pearl was sitting in the back seat. “Please join me,” she said. “We need to talk.”

“Is it about Nina Maslow?”

“It is.”

“Then you should talk to the sheriff.”

“I plan to do that.”

“Then you don’t need to talk to me.”

“Ride with me, Mr. DreadfulWater,” said Pearl. “Where’s the harm in that?”

Thumps could think of any number of reasons not to get into the car. Common sense was at the top of the list.

“And I think we can help each other.”

“You mean as in I help you and you help me?”

“Exactly.”

“The helping me part,” said Thumps. “You want to give me a hint?”

“Maslow’s file on the Obsidian Murders,” said Pearl. “Is that the kind of help that might interest you?”

THE OLD ROAD followed the Ironstone as far as Siksika Rapids, where a section had washed out in a spring flood and never been repaired. Gloria pulled into the makeshift turnaround and parked the car.

Pearl got out of the Audi. “I grew up in Queens. We didn’t have this much space. We didn’t have rapids.”

Gloria had a camera in her hand. “I’ll leave you two to talk. Can you get to the river from here?”

Thumps had photographed the rapids years ago. He tried to remember if there had been a trail or if he had had to bushwhack his way through the brush. “To the right. It’s probably overgrown.”

Gloria gave the camera a wave. “Nothing that will stop a producer.”

Thumps watched Baker-Doyle push her way into the willows and disappear. “Gloria’s a producer now? That was fast.”

“Show business is fast.”

Thumps wondered if Gloria had found the path. The only sound he could hear was the river racing over the rocks.

“You don’t like me,” said Pearl. “And that’s fine. In my business, liking someone is generally unwise.”

For the first time, Thumps heard something in the woman’s voice that didn’t have edges and angles.

“You were friends with Maslow.”

Pearl’s eyes glistened. “What did I just say?”

The wolf willows and scrub had grown up along the bank. Thumps could hear the rapids, but he couldn’t see the water. The last time he had come to this section of the Ironstone, there had been a large boulder in the middle of the rapids that had cut the river in half. He wondered if it was still there or if it had been swept away in the spring flood.

Pearl shoved her hands in the pockets of her jacket. “Warhol and Basquiat. Lennon and McCartney. Burns and Allen.”

“Thelma and Louise?”

Pearl’s laugh was soft and sad.

“The Obsidian Murders?”

“Manners,” said Pearl. “Ladies first.”

“Okay,” said Thumps. “Ladies first.”

Pearl walked back to the car and leaned against the door. “Nina and I met in Los Angeles. A prime-time drama.

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