Granville Island Mysteries 2-Book Bundle by Michael Blair

Author:Michael Blair
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC022000
Publisher: Dundurn Press
Published: 2013-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

chapter twenty-eight

* * *

“Let’s go through it one more time, all right?” Sergeant Jim Kovacs said for the fourth or fifth time in the two hours since the police had arrived. “Just to make sure I’ve got it straight.”

“If you haven’t got it by now,” I grumbled, half under my breath, “you’re never going to get it.”

“That kind of attitude isn’t going to help,” he growled.

“Sergeant Kovacs,” said the burly RCMP staff sergeant from the Squamish detachment. “We called you as a courtesy, and at Mr. McCall’s suggestion, I might add. It’s been a long night. We’re all tired. We’ve got everything we need from Mr. McCall and Miss Brooks for now. I think we can let them go.”

“Just one more question,” Kovacs insisted.

“Whatever it is,” the staff sergeant said sternly, “it will keep. Do you need a ride home?” he asked me as Kovacs glowered.

“No, I have my car,” I replied.

He signalled to a constable. “We’ll be in touch if we need any additional information.”

The constable escorted Bobbi and me out of the house, which was crawling with police and crime-scene investigators, even though most of the action had taken place in the upstairs apartments and in the hallway. Moffat’s and Kittle’s bodies had been removed. The paramedics had checked out Bobbi and me, repairing some of Bobbi’s stitches, re-splinting her fingers, and pronouncing my bullet wound superficial — a diagnosis with which I had to concur, since I hadn’t even been aware I’d been grazed just above my right hip until Bobbi noticed the blood on my shirt. The paramedics had also treated Elise Moffat for shock, although she’d remained very calm and in control until the police had arrived. An alert had been issued for Woody Getz.

“Do you think they’ll charge Mrs. Moffat with anything?” Bobbi asked me as we climbed into the Liberty. If she noticed the duct-taped side mirror and the other damage, she didn’t say anything.

“No, I don’t think they will.”

“She saved our lives, you know.”

“I know.”

The fog had lifted and less than forty minutes later I pulled into the lot in front of Sea Village. Bobbi woke up when I turned off the engine.

“Sorry,” she said, yawning and rubbing her eyes. “Did I sleep all the way?”

“I dunno,” I said, catching her yawn. “I was asleep most of the way myself.” With a shiver of horror I realized I had no memory at all of driving across the Lions Gate Bridge.

We got out of the car, staggering with exhaustion as we made our way down the ramp and along the dock to my house.

“I’m going to have a Scotch or six,” I said when we were inside. “Do you want anything?” She didn’t answer. I turned to find her staring at me. “What is it?”

“We’ve never made love,” she said.

“What? Jesus, Bobbi. What the hell …?”

“I thought I was going to die tonight.”

“Me, too,” I said. “But look, maybe you’re in shock or something. Post-traumatic stress whatever.”

“Maybe,” she said. “But when that crazy

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