Noonday Dark: A Doctor Annick Boudreau Mystery #2 by Charles Demers

Author:Charles Demers
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, Detective, Women, Sleuth, Fiction, Amateur
ISBN: 9781771623292
Publisher: Douglas and McinTyre (2013) Ltd.
Published: 2022-06-04T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

A few hours later, Philip located a car-share vehicle a block east of his mother’s place, and they kissed Denise while slipping their feet into the still-damp shoes in the front foyer. Philip juggled a repurposed margarine container filled with leftover beef and bitter melon, along with a frostbitten Tupperware container of ox-tongue stew—“the meal that kisses you back,” according to Big Brassy Boudreau—and so Annick hoisted the umbrella up for both of them like a torch.

The night was cold and damp, but the darkness was cradling, and life felt much smaller around them, cozier and somehow more manageable. As the car came into view, Philip forced a bleak laugh.

“I’m sorry about the baby stuff.”

Annick shrugged forgivingly. “She wants to be a grandmother.”

“She does. And she knows I want to be a father.”

Annick turned to Philip and smiled as softly as she could; she leaned and nibbled gently at his ear. “I know, mon coeur.”

Philip waved his fob over the car’s front dash, unlocking it for both of them. As he started the engine the windows fogged to an instant opacity, and they sat listening to the tinkling classical piano playing on the public radio station preferred by the vehicle’s previous driver. As the interiors of the windows cleared, the exteriors blurred from rain, and Philip snapped the windshield wipers into service before pulling out into the single-lane side street, crawling slowly through the wet darkness.

“We couldn’t stay in the condo,” said Annick as though no time had passed since the last beats of their dialogue, and Philip made a sour face.

“First of all, that’s not true. At least not to start.”

“It’s a one-bedroom, cher.”

“Oh, suddenly it’s a one-bedroom,” Philip said, smiling now. “This whole time it’s been a one-bedroom-plus-den.”

“Fine,” Annick said, laughing. “But a kid can’t live in a den. Especially not a Vancouver den. Especially not a Coal Harbour den. Christ, a goldfish couldn’t live in our den.”

“It would be more than ample for the first couple years. And afterwards . . . we’d have more room.”

“Oh we would, would we? Are we annexing the neighbour’s solarium?”

“No, I just—what I’m saying is, if we wanted it, we could have more space. Even a yard.”

“I’m not moving to the sticks just for a yard, mon amour. I’m not trying to be a snob. I just don’t like Frisbee enough for the commute.”

“I’m not talking about the suburbs.”

“Well maybe you could stop talking in cryptograms so that I might have some idea what you are talking about.”

“Why do you think my mom is still in the house?”

Annick spun in her seat. “Woah, wait—what?”

“She’s holding onto it for us. For when we have a family. It wouldn’t be a gift exactly, I mean—we’d still have to line up a place for her, a little condo or something on the East Side—”

“Boy I can’t tell you how much I love finding out my life is being planned in my absence, Philip. I can’t tell you because words don’t go down that low.

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