And We Shall Have Snow Read online

  Again, the document was passed from one to the other. It was dated over nine years earlier. The witnesses were a legal assistant and another lawyer from Ivan Gregory’s firm.

  “Stella got a letter from Mo about ten years back,” Leo explained. “Didn’t want to get involved with her, but she did take an interest. She asked me to keep an eye open for the kid. So I did.” He looked pleased with himself.

  That didn’t mesh with Mo’s story, Roxanne thought. Which of them was lying? “You know we’ve been looking for this?” she said.

  Both men smiled at her, one showing his teeth, the other tight-lipped.

  “We thought we’d wait until you found the murderer,” said Leo. “Didn’t want to get mixed up in that. Taking your time, aren’t you?”

  “And we didn’t want suspicion falling on Maureen. She doesn’t need that,” Ivan Gregory said smoothly.

  “Very thoughtful of you.” Brian pocketed the copy of the will. “You’ll know where Stella Magnusson did her personal banking, then?”

  “I don’t,” said Leo. “But Ivan does.”

  Stella had used a credit union. Ivan gave them the address. The original documents were in a safety deposit box. Had they found the key? They hadn’t.

  “Well, you’ll just have to search a little harder, won’t you,” said Leo. Then he leaned forward, put down his empty glass and smiled like he was having fun. “Relax. Ivan has access. We’re here to help.”

  Ivan Gregory closed his briefcase with a snap. “My card.” The lawyer passed them each one.

  “The lady’s got mine already,” said Leo breezily, and they were gone.

  “So that answers some questions,” said Brian. “Took their time telling us. I need to get straight back to Winnipeg.”

  Roxanne’s phone had vibrated ten minutes earlier. Izzy had sent a text. EA bought vodka. Paid cash. Not good news. Roxanne called her. Erik had dropped into the liquor mart two hours earlier. He could be anywhere, drowning his sorrows.

  Roxanne stepped into her car and watched Brian drive off in his. Her running gear was in the trunk. It was late afternoon, and the knitters and quilters at Sprucewood Hall would have gone home. People ate early in this part of the world. Supper was often at five. Soon she was there, running circuits. She had the track to herself. She’d get some laps in, clear her head, and try to figure out what was eluding her. Even with this new information, something was still missing.

  Roxanne was driving back from Sprucewood when her phone rang. Roberta Axelsson sounded scared.

  “He’s coming up the driveway. It’s got to be him. He’s driving fast.”

  “Don’t let him in. We’re on our way.”

  Roxanne put out an all-car alert as she drove, lights flashing, to the farm. She didn’t have far to go. She pulled into the driveway to see Axelsson’s truck skewed in the middle of the parking space in front of the house, the driver’s door hanging open. The door to the house was also open.

  She pulled up alongside the truck. From the car door, she saw Erik Axelsson back out of the house. He turned his head and saw her.

  “She’s got a gun! She’s crazy!”

  He stepped backwards onto the step, holding his hands up. Then he backed down another step. A younger version of Roberta Axelsson appeared in the doorway. She was holding a shotgun.

  Roxanne reached for her own weapon. She could hear a siren in the distance. And another.

  “Put down the gun, ma’am!” she called. She stayed by the car.

  “Tell him to back up,” the woman called to her. She was pointing the gun straight at Axelsson. “You, back up!” She took a step towards him. He took two more steps back and reached the ground.

  “You need to drop that gun, right now!” Roxanne shouted. She’d moved closer, into the cover of Axelsson’s truck.

  “That’s my house!” Axelsson was flailing his arms in the air, shifting drunkenly from one foot to the other. The cap on his head had fallen to one side. It didn’t quite cover the bandage on one side of his head. “It’s mine! She can’t lock me out!”

  “Get back!” The woman in the doorway stayed where she was.

  “Walk backwards, Erik! Walk back towards me!” Roxanne shouted. The sirens were coming closer. Erik turned to face Roxanne.

  “She’s mad, just like her mother!” He lurched in Roxanne’s direction, away from the house. The woman on the step lowered the gun.

  “Let’s talk about this, Erik.” Roxanne stepped out from the shelter of the truck. “Ma’am, put that gun down!” she called again. Roberta’s daughter, Lizzie, propped the gun against the doorjamb. Roxanne put away her weapon.

  “He kicked the door in,” Lizzie called to Roxanne. “He hit my mom.”

  Erik turned, ran for the door, jumped up the steps and grabbed for the shotgun. Roxanne raced towards him. When she tackled him, he had raised the butt of the gun above his head, ready to hit Lizzie.

  He fell sideways off the step into the snow. Roxanne landed on top of him and twisted his arms behind his back. The cap had come off. His face appeared gaunt without the hair.

  “Don’t move,” she said. The yard was illuminated by red flashing lights. Matt ran to her side. “Cuff him.”

  Izzy had picked up the shotgun. She cracked it open. It wasn’t loaded. Matt and Sam Mendes got Axelsson to a police car. The door to the house was hanging off its hinges.

  Roxanne walked into the kitchen. Roberta was sitting on the floor, leaning against a counter, a child in her arms. Her left eye was red and swelling. Her daughter was soothing a crying baby.

  “I’ve never seen him like that, Corporal. He was like a madman. He was yelling that he was going to kill me.”

  Roxanne turned to the daughter. “You heard him say that?” Lizzie nodded her head in agreement. Matt walked into the room.

  “We’ve got him in the back of the car,” he said. “We’ll charge him with assault. Lock him up for the night. You’ll have to wait until he’s sober to interview him.”

  “Get him for unlawful entry as well. Driving under the influence. Uttering threats. We need to get this woman to the hospital to get that eye checked.”

  23

  “Hey, Corporal!” Sergeant Gilchrist beamed approval when Roxanne arrived at work next morning. “Hear you took Axelsson out at the knees. Rugby, eh? You never told us.”

  “How come you know about that, Sarge?”

  “Roberta Axelsson’s daughter’s been on Facebook. And Twitter. Posted a photo of you and your team. Izzy showed us.”

  Roxanne hadn’t played since she left the University of Regina more than twelve years ago. How had Lizzie tracked that one down?

  Kathy Isfeld looked up at her over the top of her glasses. “Breakfast TV wants to know if you can be in Winnipeg at seven tomorrow for an interview,” she said. “And some woman from CBC News is trying to get hold of you.” She appeared quite excited, for Kathy. She was almost pink.

  Izzy trotted downstairs, her laptop open on her arm. “Have you seen this?”

  Roxanne looked at a rugby team lineup, years ago. She’d weighed more then. She barely recognized herself. The comment read: “A shout out to Corporal Roxanne Calloway of the RCMP who singlehandedly stopped my maniac of a stepfather from killing me and my mother last night. He’s a major suspect for the murder of Stella Magnusson. Hope they lock him up for good.”

  The phone rang. Kathy Isfeld picked it up. “Who? The Free Press? Give me your number. I’ll tell her you called.”

  “Oh,” said Roxanne. She had no idea how to handle this.

  “Hey, you’re famous!” Izzy closed the laptop. “Maybe I should take up kickboxing.”

  Gilchrist grinned at her. “Think you’re tough enough already, young lady.”

  Izzy made to punch him. He dodged it. This is still what it takes, Roxanne thought. Beat up on a guy and you’
ll win their respect.

  “How’s Axelsson?”

  “Hung-over but he’ll be okay for questioning.”

  They had all worked into the evening the previous night. Roxanne had waited at the hospital to get a statement. Roberta had double vision in her eye, but they thought it would clear. She had applied for a restraining order. A carpenter had shown up later in the evening to fix the front door of her house. Then there had been a report to write. Roxanne wanted to make sure that her version of the story was in to HQ before any other. Brian had instructed her to drop the Axelsson lead. It could look like she’d ignored that order. But she hadn’t. She’d responded to a call for help. By the time she’d sent the report off, it was too late to call her son and wish him goodnight. She felt bad about that. She’d gone straight to bed.

  Matt Stavros shouted from upstairs. “Lizzie Maxwell’s on CBC radio.” He leaned over the banister, holding out his phone so they could hear.

  “He’s a crazy drunk,” they heard Lizzie say. “Came flying at me. He was going to hit me over the head with the butt of a gun but the corporal, she ran real fast and jumped him, just in time. Knocked him right off the step, gun and all. He said he would kill my mother. I think he would have killed me too.”

  “So Corporal Calloway saved your life?”

  “For sure. Well, I might not have died but I’d have been injured, real bad. She was great. And she took my mom to the hospital after. She deserves a medal.”

  “A dramatic rescue by an RCMP officer at Fiskar Bay last night. We’ll continue to track this story.” The news reporter signed off. Roxanne looked around at the smiling faces. She felt embarrassed.

  “How about we talk to Erik Axelsson together, Sarge?” she said to Gilchrist. “And if anyone else calls from the media, I’m not available.”

  Erik was slumped in his chair, grey-faced, his head sunk between his shoulders. The bandage covered a large patch of his skull above his ear. The rest of his hair was cropped short. It was mostly grey. He looked almost ordinary. Gilchrist turned on the recorder. Axelsson raised bloodshot eyes.

  “It’s not break-and-enter when it’s your own house!”

  “Assault, Erik.” Gilchrist took the seat opposite him. “You hit your wife hard enough to give her double vision. She’s getting a restraining order. It’s her house, too, and right now she’s living there. You won’t be going back there for a while. Get used to the idea.”

  Roxanne took the seat beside Gilchrist. The look she got from Erik was baleful.

  “I’d had a drink. I don’t remember,” he muttered. Then he went silent and clenched his hands.

  “You were going to hit your stepdaughter with the butt of a gun. You’d have got her head. You would have knocked her out cold.”

  “I didn’t hit her.”

  “Because the corporal here stopped you. You can’t deny it, Erik. We’ve got three witnesses.”

  Axelsson sat up straight, trying to focus his bleary eyes.

  “So that’s it then? What are you asking me all this stuff for if you know already?”

  “You threatened to kill your wife,” Roxanne said.

  “Did not.”

  “Is that what happened with Stella?” She fired the question back, in no mood to play games.

  “What do you mean? I didn’t kill Stella!”

  “Really? She was hit across the head with a blunt instrument. You punched your wife in the head last night. You swung at your stepdaughter’s head with a gun butt. It’s a bit of a coincidence, isn’t it? Do you always aim for women’s heads when you get mad at them? Is that how you killed her?” Roxanne watched him glance from one corner of the room to the other, as if he was trapped.

  “It isn’t! I didn’t!”

  “Did you drink some wine together? You and Stella?”

  Erik’s gaze shifted towards her, his brows lowered.

  “Did you get into an argument?”

  His lips compressed. He wasn’t saying anything.

  “Did you get angry and then hit her? What did you use? The poker?”

  “I’ve got an alibi!” he shouted and sprung to his feet. “You know that!”

  Gilchrist rose and faced him. “Easy, Erik!”

  Axelsson sank back down into his chair.

  “I’m not sure you do have an alibi,” Roxanne said. She leaned back in her chair and spoke quietly. “Sure, you fixed a car the day Stella died. And you picked up some parts from the garage. But that was at lunchtime, right? You could have been finished earlier than five. You could have had a couple of hours to go and visit Stella. Did you ask the guy whose car you fixed to say you worked until five that day? Do we need to go and talk to him about what happens to people who commit perjury?”

  “I didn’t kill Stella! I couldn’t hurt Stella!” He slumped again. His head sagged. “Stella was different.”

  “How was she different?”

  “She just was.” He folded his long frame back into the chair.

  “Her body was cut up after she died. Who helped you do that?”

  He exploded up onto his feet, leaned across the table and yelled at Roxanne. “Me? Cut her up? That’s crazy. You’re crazy.”

  Roxanne didn’t move. “You’ve said that before. You say we’re all crazy, Erik. Your wife. Your stepdaughter. Now me? I’ll tell you what’s crazy, Erik. It’s taking Stella Magnusson’s frozen body to Angus Smith’s workshop and cutting it into pieces, then putting it into garbage bags and leaving it out to be picked up and taken to the dump.”

  “Christ, no!” He sat down again, his back straight, glaring at Roxanne.

  “After that you went back, didn’t you? You killed old Angus Smith. Then you took his body out to his ice shack and sunk him in the lake.”

  “I did no such thing! I never knew this Angus Smith guy! He had an ice shack? How would I know that? I never met the guy. I know nothing about him.”

  “Don’t give me that. Angus liked a drink. You and Mike Little, you play the bars. I think you knew Angus Smith. Angus liked to talk when he’d had a beer or two. About fishing. About his workshop.”

  “Look, lady.” Erik’s tone changed. Weariness replaced combativeness. “Stop trying to pin this on me. I never knew any Angus Smith. I didn’t kill him and I didn’t kill Stella. And I’m not saying anything else.” He turned to Gilchrist. “I get a phone call, right? I want to call my daughter, Mo. She’ll get someone to take care of this. I need a lawyer.”

  Gilchrist reached out to stop the recorder. He hesitated. He glanced at Roxanne and then back at Erik. “That girl’s got the money to pay for a lawyer for you, Erik?”

  “Leo Isbister’s going to make sure she gets Stella’s money,” Erik replied.

  “What do you know about Stella’s money?” Roxanne interjected.

  “Hell, I dunno. That’s all Mo said when Leo came into the coffee shop yesterday. ‘This is Leo, remember him, he used to know my mom too. He’s going to make sure I get all my mom’s money.’”

  “Did she say anything about a will?” Roxanne asked.

  “No. What will? Doesn’t matter. She’ll get the house and all Stella’s stuff, right? There’s nobody else that Stella could leave it to.”

  “How about you, Erik? Did you think Stella would leave something to you?”

  “Nah. Not me. Wasn’t like that with me and Stella.” He drooped in his chair again.

  For once, Roxanne felt almost sorry for him. Gilchrist walked around the table and helped him to his feet.

  “Let’s get you back to the cell, Erik, then we’ll get that phone call set up for you.” He stopped before they reached the door. “If I was Mo Penner’s dad and I really wanted to help her—and you, Erik—I’d tell her to find herself a decent lawyer. Right away. One that works for her, not for Leo Isbister. Okay?”

  Erik blinked. He looked puzzled.
“Sure. Okay. I’ll tell her.”

  Roxanne said nothing as she walked back to the upstairs office. She sat down at the table, deep in thought.

  “I’m going for coffee,” said Izzy.

  Roxanne looked up, reached for her bag and pulled out a wallet. “I’ll buy. Get us some muffins. A bran one for me.”

  “Got an appetite now you’re famous, ma’am?” All Izzy got in reply was a raised eyebrow. She hurried for the door. “I’ll be right back. You want to check your emails.”

  Roxanne had lots of mail. A staff sergeant in charge of communications wanted her to refer all media questions to him. That suited her just fine. There was one from her sister.

  “That was you they’re talking about on the news? I told Finn. He’s so excited.” He’d be at nursery school right now. She would have to catch him tonight on FaceTime.

  Her supervising inspector sent congratulations. That was good. He’d got her report, then. There was nothing from Brian Donohue.

  Bill Gilchrist had returned from the cell unit and clattered upstairs. “You sure went for Axelsson,” he said. “You don’t still think he’s the murderer, do you?”

  “No,” she said. “But he’s given me an idea.”

  Izzy appeared with muffins. Gilchrist parked himself at the table and reached for the bag. “What’s all this about money and a will?” he asked. They didn’t know about yesterday’s interview with Leo Isbister. She filled them in.

  “Stella had money. A lot of it. More than a million plus the house and everything in it.”

  “Wonder how long it’ll take that Mo kid to get through that,” said Gilchrist.

  Roxanne thought for a moment, then said to Izzy: “Can you call her? Tell her we’ve got the keys to her mother’s house and we’ll get the car to her as soon as she wants. The sergeant here told Erik to let her know she should get herself a decent lawyer. Make sure she knows that.”