Deja Dead Page 0,152
he lived.”
“How did he and Grace get along.”
“Hell if I know. He’d be gone when she came in, then he’d come back after she’d left for the day. I’m not sure they even knew each other.”
“And you think the man in this picture looks like Fortier?”
“Him and every other guy with bad hair and an attitude about it.”
“Do you know where Fortier is now?”
He shook his head.
“You know anyone named St. Jacques?”
“Nope.”
“Tanguay?”
“Sounds like a bronzer for queers.”
My head was pounding and my throat was starting to scratch. I left my card.
38
IARRIVED HOME TO FIND RYAN FUMING ON MY DOORSTEP. HE WASTED no time.
“I just can’t get through to you, can I? No one can. You’re like one of those Ghost Dance Indians. Dress the dress and dance the dance and you’re bulletproof.”
His face was flushed, and I could see a tiny vessel throbbing in his temple. I thought it unwise to comment just yet.
“Whose car was it?”
“Neighbor.”
“Do you find all this amusing, Brennan?”
I said nothing. The headache had spread from the back to encompass my entire cranium, and a dry cough told me my immune system was about to have callers.
“Is there anyone on this planet who can get through to you?”
“Would you like to come in for coffee?”
“What makes you think you can just sail off like that and leave everyone sucking wind? These guys don’t exactly live to be out here protecting your sorry ass, Brennan. Why the hell didn’t you call or page me?”
“I did.”
“You couldn’t wait ten minutes?”
“I didn’t know where you were or how long it would be. I didn’t think I’d be gone long. Hell, I wasn’t.”
“You could have left a message.”
“I’d have left War and Peace if I’d known you were going to overreact like this.” Not quite true. I knew.
“Overreact?” His voice went icy calm. “Let me review for you. Five, maybe seven women have been brutally murdered and mutilated in this town. The most recent was four weeks ago.” He ticked points off on his fingers. “One of these women made a partial appearance in your garden. A nutcase had your picture in his spice collection. He’s gone missing. A loner who collects knives and pornography, frequents hookers, and likes to slice and dice little animals dialed up your apartment. He’d been stalking your best friend. She is now dead. She was buried clutching a picture of you and your daughter. This loner has also gone missing.”
A couple passed on the sidewalk, dropping their eyes and quickening their pace, embarrassed to witness a lovers’ quarrel.
“Ryan, come inside. I’ll make coffee.” My voice sounded raspy and speech was starting to hurt.
He raised a hand in exasperation, fingers splayed, then dropped it to his side. I returned the keys to my neighbor, thanked her for the use of her car, and let Ryan and myself into the apartment.
“Decaf or high test?”
Before he could answer his beeper sounded, causing us both to jump.
“Better go with decaf. You know where the phone is.”
I listened, rattling cups and pretending not to.
“Ryan.” Pause. “Yeah.” Pause. “No shit.” Long pause. “When?” Pause. “Okay. Thanks. I’ll be right there.”
He came to the kitchen door and stood there, his face tense. My temperature, blood pressure, and pulse all began to rise. Stay calm. I poured two cups of coffee, forcing my hand not to tremble. I waited for him to speak.
“They got him.”
My hand froze, the pot suspended in midair.
“Tanguay?”
He nodded. I returned the pot to its warmer. Carefully. I took out milk, poured a dollop in my cup, offered some to Ryan. Carefully. He shook his head. I put the carton back in the refrigerator. Carefully. I took a sip. Okay. Speak.
“Tell me.”
“Let’s sit.”
We moved to the living room.
“They arrested him about two hours ago driving east on the 417. An SQ unit spotted the tag and pulled him.
“It’s Tanguay?”
“It’s Tanguay. Prints match.”
“He was heading toward Montreal?”
“Apparently.”
“What are they charging him with?”
“For now, possession of open alcohol in a moving vehicle. Jerk was thoughtful enough to crack a bottle of Jim Beam and leave it in the backseat. They also confiscated some skin magazines. He thinks that’s the beef. They’re letting him sweat for a while.”
“Where was he?”
“Claims he has a cabin in the Gatineau. Inherited it from Daddy. Get this. He’d been fishing. Crime scene’s sending out a team to take the place apart.”
“Where is he now?”
“Parthenais.”
“You’re heading over there?”
“Yeah.” He took a deep breath, expecting a fight. I had no desire to see Tanguay.
“Okay.” My mouth was