And We Shall Have Snow Page 12

  “Sent the rest of the guys home to get their beauty sleep. Waiting for you, right?” He grinned.

  “Okay.” She leaned on the other side of the counter. “Who do you think did it?”

  “Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? It had to be Brad. Look at the way that Axelsson fell. He was hit hard. Couldn’t have been the old man. He doesn’t have the strength. It’s just what Brad would do. His dad’s covering up for him.”

  “But you’ve still got John Andreychuk here?”

  “Sure. He’s not arguing about it. He thinks he’s here for the night. I’ve got him all tucked in downstairs. Sound asleep last time I looked. We can leave him where he is until we know for sure.”

  So she should probably wait to interview him in the morning. “Does Bradley know that his father confessed as well?”

  “None of us told him. Look, leave this one to me, Corporal. This is local. It’s a clear-cut case of aggravated assault. Erik Axelsson got drunk and picked a fight with the Andreychuks and got beat up.”

  So that was what the sergeant really wanted to talk about. Roxanne wasn’t buying it. “How did Erik find out that Brad told us he was having an affair with Stella Magnusson?”

  “That’s a no-brainer,” Gilchrist said. “He’d been cruising the pubs all afternoon. If he didn’t figure it out for himself the guys he drank with would have helped him.”

  “So they all want Brad put away?”

  “Sure they do. He’s always causing the bars grief on a Saturday night.”

  So Sergeant Bill wanted to be the hero that finally nailed Brad Andreychuk. She felt quite sorry to disappoint him.

  “Look, Sarge, of course this fight is linked to the murders. Think about it. Erik and Stella were having an affair. Stella Magnusson was hit on the back of the head. Knocked unconscious. And now Erik probably needs brain surgery for damage also caused by a blow to the head. It’s the same method, right? Isn’t that too much of a coincidence? Then both Brad and his father confess to the assault? What do you know about Jeremy Andreychuk?”

  “The kid brother? He’s never been any trouble. Smart kid, took a bunch of prizes at school. He’s not tough like Bradley. And he’s in Winnipeg. What’s the word on Erik Axelsson?”

  “Not good. I just phoned Brian Donohue. Erik needs emergency surgery. They’re bringing in a neurosurgeon. Is it true that Roberta Axelsson’s gone to live in Winnipeg? She’ll need to know. He’s seriously injured, Sarge. He might die. In which case, we’ll have another murder. That’ll make three.”

  13

  The temperature dipped to minus thirty-four overnight. It was too cold to run. Roxanne drove straight to the Andreychuk farm the next morning and parked out on the roadway behind an older green Ford Focus. Jeremy Andreychuk’s, she hoped. The sky was banded with orange and yellow light towards the east, but clouds were massing on the western horizon. The weather was about to change again. She walked past Erik’s truck. A yellow extension cord ran from the radiator grille to an electrical outlet at the side of the house. Izzy must have plugged it in for the night. Good. They didn’t need a frozen truck to deal with on top of everything else.

  There was no answer when she rapped on the door. No one was to be seen in the yard or around the workshop. She made her way to the far end of the yard, past the Andreychuk vehicles, and then down the path that led to the barn. There she found Izzy and a young man wearing a hoodie and jeans feeding rows of cows that munched contentedly in their stalls.

  “Morning, Corporal! We’ll be done soon.”

  Jeremy Andreychuk came over and introduced himself. He was smaller than his father and brother but he maybe resembled his mother, if you could imagine Maggie without the layers of fat.

  “I got here an hour or so ago. Had a paper to finish, due in today, so I pulled an all-nighter and came out as soon as I’d sent it off to my prof. How can I help you, Corporal Calloway?”

  He was a polite young man, unlike his brother.

  “I can finish off here,” said Izzy. “You head over to the house. I’ll see you there.”

  Roxanne and Jeremy walked back, their breath turning to ice fog in the freezing air. Roxanne found herself looking forward to the warmth of the kitchen. This cold was bitter.

  “My mother doesn’t get up early but I’ll get the coffee on.” They entered the house through the back door. “Leave those boots on, Corporal.”

  Jeremy stuffed his feet into a pair of slippers. There were three steps up to reach the kitchen door, which stood open. Jeremy removed his parka and hung it on a hook. He reached behind the door, brought out a coat hanger and took her coat, all consideration and good manners.

  “Have a seat.” He filled a carafe with water, then turned on an electric coffee maker. They heard a toilet flush. “My mother must be up.” He brought out mugs and a bowl of sugar. “My brother’s under arrest?”

  “He is. He confessed and we have his statement. How do you know?”

  Jeremy smiled pleasantly as he filled a jug with cream. “I called the Fiskar Bay RCMP last night. You’re still holding my father?”

  “We have some questions that need answering,” she replied.

  “I’ve spoken to my father’s lawyer. He’ll be arriving in Fiskar Bay this morning. Any further questions will have to wait until he gets there.”

  So he hadn’t just been working on a university paper.

  Maggie Andreychuk appeared at the door opposite. She wore a large crimson caftan that billowed around her as she moved to the table.

  “Is the coffee ready?” she demanded as she lowered herself onto a chair across from Roxanne. The carafe was half full. Her son filled a mug with the thick brew. Roxanne declined an invitation to have some of the same.

  “I’ll wait until it’s done, thanks,” she said.

  “Why do you need to be here, Corporal, if you’re holding my brother?” Jeremy asked.

  “I want to talk to you, Jeremy,” said Roxanne. “May I call you Jeremy?” She smiled. He nodded.

  “How is Erik?” he asked.

  “His surgery went as well as could be expected. He’s in intensive care. The doctors don’t know the extent of the damage to his brain, but he’s still alive. So it’s still a case of aggravated assault. For now.”

  “He picked the fight,” Maggie growled. “It was self-defence.”

  “Shush, Ma.” Jeremy sat down and placed a hand over his mother’s. He turned to face Roxanne. Grey eyes, she noticed, cold like his mother’s when he wasn’t smiling. “So what else did you want to talk about, Corporal?”

  “Stella Magnusson,” she replied.

  “Stella?” He didn’t look or sound surprised. “Of course. I knew Stella. I worked for Stella. I liked her. I’m very sorry she’s dead.” He drank his coffee, perfectly at ease.

  “What exactly did you do at StarFest?”

  “Ticket sales. Box office. Festival passes. I did it for two years. First year I was on a student grant but last summer I was box office manager. I’d hoped to go back this year. It was a good summer job.”

  “Did you do bank deposits?”

  “No.” The question seemed to puzzle him. “I balanced out each day and handed the cash and charge statements over to Stella.”

  “So you didn’t have access to any actual accounts? You never saw any financial statements, anything like that?”

  “We had sales targets. We kept track of how sales were going. Compared them to the year before. That was all.”

  The back door opened and Izzy came in from the cold. She took off her parka and came into the kitchen in her socks, went to the kitchen sink and scrubbed her hands. She stood there, watching and listening.

  “When did you last see Stella?” Roxanne continued.

  “Just after New Year,” Jeremy replied. “I went over for a visit. Had a drink with her. We talked about next summer a
nd what she had planned for her trip.”

  “Were you in the habit of visiting Stella?”

  “Sure,” he said. “Used to take the skidoo over. There’s a track over to her place, through the wood, behind the barn.” His even tone matched Roxanne’s. No worries. He smiled again.

  “We noticed,” she said. “Where were you on January 19, Jeremy?”

  “The day you think Stella was murdered? I’ve already been asked that but let me check to be sure.” He got up and walked over to where a backpack lay on a countertop. He had to know the answer. Why was he stalling? “How’s your coffee, Ma?”

  Maggie Andreychuk did not make a sound. Jeremy found an iPad, brought it back to the table and checked the calendar. They could hear a clock ticking out in the hallway.

  Roxanne surveyed the kitchen. It was painted cream, with green trim. The floor was covered with beige linoleum. Colourful china plates were displayed on a dresser. Small appliances, a toaster, a mixer, were ranged on a counter. Geranium cuttings grew in pots on the windowsill. It was scrubbed clean, a typical prairie farm kitchen. What was it Jeremy and his mother didn’t want her to know?

  Izzy had remained standing, leaning with her back to the sink. Mrs. Andreychuk finished her coffee. Izzy fetched the carafe and topped up her mug. Maggie still said nothing.

  “Here it is,” Jeremy announced. “My parents came to Winnipeg on the nineteenth. I met them for a quick burger at the Burger King near the university, around twelve. I was in class all afternoon. It was a lab, so there’ll be an attendance record. Then I worked a shift at the restaurant from six until after midnight. The next day was Saturday and I was home. My girlfriend can vouch for that. Just like I said already.” He sat back, satisfied.

  “Thank you,” said Roxanne. “But something puzzles me. We’ve asked your father about the skidoo tracks that go from your barn to the Magnusson house and we didn’t get an answer. And yet you tell me it was just you going to visit Stella, to talk about work. If that was all it was, why couldn’t he just tell us? Why did he feel the need to cover it up? Mrs. Andreychuk, do you know? What was the problem?”

  Any congeniality in the room vanished.

  “What are you trying to get at? My Jeremy had nothing to do with Stella Magnusson getting herself killed!”

  “Someone in this house thought it was important to cover up those visits, Mrs. Andreychuk. I have to ask why. Was someone afraid we’d find something out? Were you and Stella more than just friends, Jeremy?”

  “We were not!” His answer came fast and sharp.

  Roxanne retaliated as quickly: “You know what, we keep coming up against cover-ups.” She turned back towards the mother. “Your son and your husband both tried to tell us that they were the one to hit Erik Axelsson on the head with that wrench, Mrs. Andreychuk, and they both can’t have done it, so which of them is lying?”

  “You know that. You arrested Bradley. It was self-defence.”

  Roxanne sat straight up, her hands in her lap. “But I’m not at all convinced that we do know the truth. I’m beginning to wonder if they’re both lying. Your husband covered up for Jeremy about the skidoo tracks. Maybe he’s covering up for him again. Maybe they both are. Were you here yesterday, Jeremy?”

  “I was home working on that paper. My girlfriend…”

  Roxanne barely acknowledged his excuse. “You see, Jeremy, I don’t think either your dad or your brother picked up that wrench and hit Erik Axelsson across the back of the head with it. It’s just not their style. They’re both fighting men. They’d use their fists, and they’d want to finish it off face to face. But you, you’re not like that, are you? You’re smaller. Not so aggressive. Erik’s a lot bigger than you are. You wouldn’t have stood a chance against him in the mood he was in.”

  She put both hands on the table and leaned toward him. “You’d use the first weapon that came to hand and you’d take whatever chance you could to end the fight without getting hurt yourself. I think you came out that back door from the kitchen and saw your brother down and your dad being attacked and there was the wrench, just lying there. So you hit Erik Axelsson from behind and you put a stop to that fight before he did any real damage to your dad.”

  “I did not!” Jeremy exclaimed, his face inches from hers. “I wasn’t here!”

  Roxanne swung her head round and looked straight at Maggie Andreychuk. Two little eyes met hers.

  “But you were here. It was you, Mrs. Andreychuk. You did it.”

  “Don’t say anything, Ma!” Jeremy grabbed for his phone.

  “He was like a madman, that Erik Axelsson. Going for my John. He’s got a weak heart. He has a pacemaker.”

  “Shut up, Ma!”

  “That Erik was going to kill him.”

  Roxanne rose to her feet. “Place Mrs. Andreychuk under arrest, Constable McBain, and then take her through to her room to get changed. We’re taking her in.”

  “I’m calling the lawyer, Ma. Don’t say a word!”

  Roxanne glanced out the kitchen window. The clouds had thickened on the horizon to a threatening band of iron grey. A row of spruce trees stood like dark sentinels, guarding the way to Stella Magnusson’s house. She reached for her own phone.

  “I need to talk to Sergeant Gilchrist,” she said.

  It was almost lunchtime. Lentil soup was simmering in a Crock-Pot in Margo’s kitchen. Sasha sat on a window seat overlooking the lake. Small, black-headed chickadees swooped from the telephone wire to a feeder filled with black sunflower seeds, chirruping despite the cold. The dogs were outside in the fenced backyard, hunting unsuccessfully for squirrels.

  “The temperature’s going up. We’re going to get some snow again, and wind. Said so on WeatherNet. I hope Roberta isn’t going to try to drive back in a snowstorm.”

  Roberta had emailed her friends. Erik hadn’t regained consciousness. The doctors did not know how well he would recover from the damage to his brain. So she had decided to come home and take care of their animals.

  “She doesn’t say she’s going to get back together with him again though, does she?” Margo was taking soup bowls out of a cupboard. Given her own experience, she had little time for husbands who played around.

  “She visited him. In the hospital.”

  “Well, I suppose she would, wouldn’t she? It sounds like he almost died. Must have been quite the fight.”

  “Erik’s always had a temper on him.” Sasha turned away from the window.

  “Do you think she’s telling the truth when she says he never gets violent?” Margo added more salt to the soup. “I hope she doesn’t go back to him.”

  “I think Erik’s useless. Just full of bullshit, most of the time. But she’s crazy about the guy. And who’ll look after him if he needs care after this?”

  They were interrupted by a knock at the door. Annie and Panda walked in. Panda had a large tin between her mittened hands.

  “Zucchini cake. Have you heard the news? They’ve arrested Maggie Andreychuk!” she announced, kicking off her boots.

  “You’re kidding!” Sasha got up from her seat by the window. “She’s huge! She can barely walk. I saw her in the grocery store, weeks ago, shuffling along, hanging on to a shopping cart for dear life. Her husband was fetching all the stuff she needed from the shelves. I thought they would have charged that son of his, you know, Bradley. The one that’s always in trouble.”

  “Nope. I called Matt. Bradley got a broken collarbone in the fight. They did arrest him but then that red-haired corporal from the Major Crimes Unit figured out it was Maggie.” She brought the tin over to the kitchen counter.

  Annie had unlaced thick-soled boots and pulled on felted slippers. She padded over to join them.

  “So what was she doing? Trying to stop the fight?” she asked.

  “It sounds like Erik Axelsson went crazy.” Panda said.

 
“Drunk,” said Sasha.

  “He’s not supposed to touch the stuff.” Annie sat down, quiet and small, at the table. “That’s why he goes to AA. He’s been sober for years. He’s fine as long as he stays away from alcohol. Being accused of the murder, Roberta leaving him, must have pushed him over the edge.”

  Margo knew that Annie attended AA meetings regularly in Fiskar Bay. She had never told them how or why she had started and the group did not ask. Some things about Annie were private. Panda would talk about most things but not if they related to Annie. Margo let the dogs in. They wagged their way around the table. Panda was good for a scratched ear. Annie ignored them. They went to the dog bed in the corner and snuggled in together.

  “So see, maybe Roberta’s right, about him never getting violent around her.” Sasha said, joining Annie at the table. “If this doesn’t knock him completely off the wagon they might be all right.”

  “He still had that affair with Stella,” said Margo pointedly. “Don’t forget, that’s why she left him. Do you all want soup?” She reached for a ladle.

  “How’s she going to manage all those animals by herself?” Panda asked.

  “She loves her goats.” Sasha reached for a bread bun. “Don’t know about the sheep and the chickens. They’re a lot of work. If she got some help she might be okay, but I don’t think she has enough money to pay anyone.”

  “She really is coming back up here today?” asked Annie.

  Margo passed her a bowl. “I asked her if she’d like to come for lunch but she wanted to check in at the hospital first to see how Erik was, then head up the road in the afternoon.”

  “It’s going to snow.” Panda looked out the window and frowned. “Is there a snowblower out at Axelssons’? Didn’t Erik use a tractor to clear that long driveway? We could go out there after it stops and help, Annie.”

  “You just want to drive that tractor,” said Annie. “Sit down and eat your soup.”

  “Where’s Phyllis?” asked Panda.

  “Well.” Margo took a deep breath and joined them at the table. “That’s what we need to talk to you about.”