And We Shall Have Snow Page 9

  “He’s kind of gutless, but who knows? Maybe it was a crime of passion,” Sasha said with relish. “You know Erik used to know Stella, way back? When she was younger? Erik had a band with his pal Mike Little. So did Stella.”

  “Really? But that must have been years ago. How long?”

  “Stella was still in school. Grade twelve, so it was maybe thirty years? Roberta told me all about it when Stella came back here. Erik taught her to play guitar. Stella left Fiskar Bay right after school though, and Erik moved to the city after that.”

  “How old was Erik then?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Late twenties. He got himself a job at a car dealership in town. Then he went to Red River College. Trained to be an auto mechanic and he met his first wife. Kind of settled down.”

  “Until he met Roberta and left his wife and kids for her.’

  “Well, yeah. Too good-looking, Erik. That’s his problem. Gets away with blue murder.”

  “That’s not funny, Sasha.” But they both laughed anyway. “Maybe we should go over there and keep her company until he gets home.”

  “I offered already.” Roberta had told her she’d be fine. Erik shouldn’t be too long. Sasha and Margo decided to wait and see.

  “Call me if you hear anything.”

  “You bet!”

  At the RCMP detachment office, Erik Axelsson sat across a table from Roxanne and Matt Stavros. They were in a small, grey room, with a window high in the ceiling that did not let in much light. Fluorescent strips shone harshly overhead. A recorder lay on the table humming faintly. A school yearbook was open at the picture of Stella with the members of her band, and Erik.

  “Sure, I knew her back then. I knew all those kids. I had a band of my own. Me and the guys, we took them along with us to gigs.”

  “You said you taught Stella how to play guitar?”

  “Well, yeah. Sure I did. We taught the four of them. See him? That’s Alex Fletcher. Town councillor, now. Why don’t you go ask him about Stella?”

  “And the other two?”

  “They’re long gone. Don’t know where they went.”

  “When Stella moved back, to live near Cullen Village, you were already living here as well?”

  “I moved onto the farm with Roberta, my wife, after we got married. We’d been back three or four years before Stella showed up. Nobody expected Stella to come home.”

  He was lounging again, as much as a plastic straight-backed chair would allow, trying to appear casual. He was still good-looking, but he must be close to sixty, Roxanne thought. Tall, long limbed, hair tied back in a ponytail. But it was going grey and the lines in his face were etched deep.

  “You were involved in Stella’s music festival, back in the beginning?”

  “We both were, me and Roberta. Roberta had a lot to do with getting it up and running. She was on Stella’s board, first few years. I just played sometimes. Mike Little and me played as a duo. But StarFest got bigger and we weren’t asked back after a while. Didn’t really matter. We just played for fun, Mike and me. We still do.”

  “Did your wife continue with StarFest? After you weren’t asked back?”

  “Well, no. She stopped when it went all professional. It wasn’t just about guys like Mike and me anymore. She liked the whole thing better when it was for the locals. They were never really very close, her and Stella. She thought StarFest was a good idea, back at the beginning, and she could sell the stuff she makes at the craft section. She didn’t like what it grew into, so she left. No big deal.”

  Roxanne could see him getting more comfortable, settling in to the conversation. He’d stared at the tabletop and at the open yearbooks at the beginning, two parallel furrows between his brows. Now he lifted his eyes and made contact. They were pale blue tending towards grey. Nordic eyes. Engaging. He’s a charmer, she thought, and he knows it. Does he think he can charm me?

  “When did you last see Stella Magnusson?” she asked. He blinked, shrugged, looked away.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Might have run into her around town. Fiskar Bay’s not very big.”

  “Mr. Axelsson, we have a witness who says that your truck has been seen parked outside Stella Magnusson’s house recently.” Those eyes met hers again, only for a second. He rubbed his hands on his knees.

  “Oh, right. Needed some help with the SUV. It wouldn’t start.”

  “When was that?”

  “A while ago. Not sure,” he said. He smiled at her. He still had good teeth.

  “Our witness says your truck was there not once but several times,” said Roxanne.

  For a moment he was still, the only sound the whirr of the recorder. “You sure it was mine, Corporal? There’s lots of them around here.”

  Matt nodded his head. Erik was right. He drove a Ford F-250 truck. Even the silver colour was popular.

  Roxanne clasped both hands on the table in front of her. “Were you and Stella Magnusson in a relationship, Mr. Axelsson?”

  “Hey,” he exclaimed, half rising out of his chair. “Me and Stella, we were just friends. That’s all. Just friends.”

  “Please sit down, Mr. Axelsson. You were there at night, our witness tells us, on more than one occasion. For hours. And you were just friends?”

  Erik Axelsson sank back into his chair. The look he gave her now was decidedly cooler. “Look, lady, I don’t know what you’re getting at. Are you trying to pin this murder on me? Forget it. We got along, Stella and me, sure we did, but that’s all there was to it. I’m married. I love my wife.”

  “Where were you on Friday, January 19?”

  “I haven’t a clue. I’d need to check. Who is this witness? How come you believe whoever it is and not me?” Now his anger was rising. Was it real or was he pretending?

  “It’s not a matter of whom we believe, Mr. Axelsson. Tell us your whereabouts on those dates and we will probably be fine.”

  “Maybe I need to be talking to a lawyer?”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary right now. All we are doing is asking questions.”

  “Well,” he said, getting to his feet, “I think I’ve answered enough of this crap for now. I haven’t been charged with anything. I’m free to go, right?”

  He was. Roxanne didn’t have enough grounds to hold him. He left the room without saying goodbye. Bill Gilchrist came out of his office as Erik strode across the front office and out the door.

  “Been beating up on our Erik, have you, Corporal?”

  From the window, Roxanne could see Erik get into his truck. “Does he lose his temper much?”

  “What, Erik? He’s harmless. Was a bit wild they say when he was young but we haven’t had any bother from him since he moved back. He’s an old hippie. The goat farm thing’s a bit stupid, if you ask me. They’ll never make money at that, but it’s probably more the missus’s thing. He’s better off sticking to fixing cars. That’s what probably keeps them going. He’s okay at that, they say. A bit lazy though. Only works when he wants to. He plays the bars sometimes with Mike Little. Doesn’t drink.”

  Kathy Isfeld lifted her head from her work. “Goes to AA,” she said. “Never misses. Been going for years.”

  Upstairs, Izzy McBain also watched Erik rev his truck and back it out, fast, onto the street. Matt entered the room.

  “That got him rattled,” he said.

  “Pleased with yourselves then, are you?”

  “Hey, Izzy, you can’t let it get personal. This might get results. Want to come over to my place and watch the game tonight?” He was reaching for his coat. “Order in some pizza?”

  “No thanks. I’ve got hockey practice.”

  Roxanne had come in and had opened her laptop. “They’ve had a look at Angus Smith’s body. He was stabbed with a five-inch blade. It went straight into his heart. And it’s a match for the one in Smith’s dish
washer. So at least we know how and where that murder happened.” She watched Izzy reach for her parka and head off downstairs.

  “She okay?”

  “Oh,” said Matt, “she’ll be fine. She’ll go chase a hockey puck around the rink and get rid of her bad mood. Then she’ll show up at my place and eat all the pizza.”

  Roxanne watched him get ready to leave too. He and Izzy McBain were a good match. Too bad they were both in the Force, working the same case. She couldn’t think of any other constables at Fiskar Bay that she would want to replace either of them, though. She would leave things be.

  Three hours later, Roxanne was soaking in the tub in her hotel room. She’d phoned her sister and said goodnight to Finn on FaceTime. With a bit of luck she’d get into Winnipeg tomorrow night and have an evening at home with her boy. Then she’d catch up on her emails. Now she could have an early night, set the alarm for 5:30 and have a decent run in the morning.

  The phone rang. Matt Stavros. He’d just had a call from his aunt Panda, the one that lived with Annie Chan. Panda wanted to know if they had really hauled Erik Axelsson in for questioning that day.

  “How would she know that, Matt?”

  “Because she finds out everything. Anyway, she thought we might want to know that Roberta Axelsson showed up at her friend Sasha Rosenberg’s house in Cullen Village an hour or so ago, with an overnight bag in her hand. She’s walked out on Axelsson. Says he’s been screwing Stella Magnusson.”

  10

  “What am I going to do?” Roberta wailed as she reached for another Kleenex. “I can’t just stay here.”

  “Yes, you can. As long as you like, Roberta.” Sasha patted her hand, then glanced across the table at Margo, who was drinking coffee from a hand-thrown pottery mug.

  “No, I can’t. What about my goats? Erik can’t milk a goat to save himself. Who’s going to take care of them?” Roberta drooped like a rag doll brought in from the rain.

  “You need to talk to a lawyer and find out where you stand,” said Sasha.

  Margo put down her mug. “I have a niece who does law. She’ll know of someone.”

  “I don’t have any money. How am I supposed to pay for a lawyer?”

  “Isn’t half the farm yours?”

  “I don’t know. It belonged to Erik’s family. I don’t even know if we own the land.”

  Margo caught Sasha’s eye again and raised an eyebrow. She found it frustrating when women like Roberta knew so little about their own financial status.

  “Erik’s the one at fault here, Roberta,” Margo said. You shouldn’t be the one that has to suffer.”

  “But I am! I’m the loser all round! That’s what’s so awful about this.” Tears poured down Roberta’s face once more. Sasha passed her another tissue.

  It was Thursday morning, the first day of February. Roberta had spent the night on Sasha’s sofa bed, the one she kept for occasional visitors. Roberta blew her nose.

  “How could I have been so stupid?” She scrunched the tissue between her fingers. “Why didn’t I see what was going on? You know what? I think I did see, I just didn’t want to. I didn’t want to believe that he’d fallen for Stella. That he didn’t love me anymore.”

  Margo reached out and touched her shoulder. “You mustn’t think that. You and Erik are a great couple. Of course he loves you. This is all Stella’s doing.”

  “Not really.” Tears continued to course down Roberta’s cheeks. “He liked her. He did. I watched them, years ago, at StarFest. It was a rehearsal, they were doing sound checks, and they were laughing, him and Stella, like no one else was there. Like I wasn’t there. There was just the two of them. And you know, I kind of knew, but then I thought, don’t be stupid, this is Erik, you can trust Erik. But I guess I was wrong. It must have been going on for years.”

  “You don’t know that for sure. Have some more coffee.” Sasha poured another cup.

  “It wasn’t just that. There were little moments. We’d go to Stella’s for meetings, back when StarFest was just getting started. She hadn’t fixed up the office yet, so we’d get together in her house. And it looked like Erik belonged there. He was so relaxed, like it was a second home for him. You know, Sasha, when I had that row with her, when I quit StarFest, I don’t think I was mad at her because of what she was doing with the festival, I think, now, on a gut level, it was really about her and Erik.”

  “But she cut Erik out of StarFest too, didn’t she?” asked Margo, trying to make sense of all of this.

  “Well, yes. And I thought that we were done with Stella, both Erik and me, but I guess that wasn’t true. Not really.”

  There was a knock at the door. Panda and Annie entered. Bob the dog got up from the floor and padded over to greet them.

  Sasha’s house was tiny and cluttered. The table hardly had enough room around it for four chairs. There was a large, sagging armchair and the sofa, which was covered with a heap of bedding and Lenny, who wagged his tail at them but stayed put. Roberta reached for another tissue and blew her nose loudly. Panda kicked off her boots, hung her parka on a coat stand at the door and flopped into the armchair.

  “Are you sure about this, Roberta?” Annie left her boots neatly on a patch of linoleum, avoided Bob the dog and took a seat at the table. “Erik and Stella?”

  “Yes! I figured it all out, after he left to go to the police station. It all came back to me. I remembered things. He’d go out, sometimes in the afternoon, more often in the evening. He’d say he was going to practice at Mike’s but one night, Alice, Mike’s wife, called to see if Mike was at our place and of course he wasn’t, and when Erik came home he said he and Mike hadn’t gone to his house after all, they’d gone to the pub to talk to someone about a gig, and stupid me, I believed him. I didn’t want not to believe him. I loved him, I really did.”

  Margo watched her gather herself together as she told the story. She told it well. Roberta was a bit of a drama queen.

  “But he told you? About Stella? He admitted it?” Panda asked.

  “Well, yeah. After he got back from talking to the police. He was pretending it was just nothing, but I could tell he was shaken up. I poured him a cup of tea and I just kind of blurted it out. ‘Have you been seeing Stella?’ I asked him. And he got this evasive look on his face. And I knew. ‘You were!’ I said. And he got all defensive. Tried to tell me it was nothing. ‘You were fucking Stella Magnusson and it was nothing!’ I yelled at him. ‘How long has this been going on?’ And, you know, he didn’t know what to say. He just stood there, looking at the floor, shifting from side to side. And that was it. Over, him and me.” Roberta paused for breath. She picked up her coffee cup. It was almost empty again. “I need a refill,” she said, dehydrated from weeping and talking. “I am so thirsty.”

  “He’s been phoning.” Sasha refilled Roberta’s mug. “He wants Roberta to go home.”

  “What will you do, Roberta?” asked Panda, swinging a leg over an arm of the chair.

  “I don’t know yet.” Roberta gulped down the coffee. “But I’m not going back there. I’m not going back to him. He’s been lying to me for years. Screwing Stella behind my back.” She had stopped crying and sounded like she was beginning to get angry.

  “And now she’s dead,” said Panda.

  There was a moment’s silence.

  “You don’t think Erik did it?” she asked.

  Roberta shot her an accusing glance.

  “Well, he’s bound to be a suspect.” Panda pointed to a plate of cookies on the table. “Are those oatmeal and raisin?”

  “He wouldn’t,” said Roberta, still challenging her. “He might be stupid enough to mess around with Stella, but he wouldn’t kill anyone. Not Erik.”

  “He’s got a bit of a temper on him, Roberta.” Sasha passed the cookie plate over to Panda. Bob the dog came to investigate.

  “Well, yes. He h
as. But he’s not violent. Not Erik. He just mouths off. He’s all talk.”

  Sasha’s phone rang. She moved to answer it.

  “Could you go and stay with your daughter in Winnipeg for a while?” said Margo. Sasha’s house was too small. She wondered if Roberta was going to end up in her own spare room. She’d need to offer, but would she get any work done with Roberta in the house, in this kind of state?

  “I don’t know. I haven’t talked to her yet. I left a message. That’s maybe her now.”

  Sasha came back with the phone. “Mike Little’s wife, for you.”

  Roberta took it and went off into the next room with it clamped to her ear. The three heads at the table leaned together. Panda clambered out of the chair and came closer to listen.

  “This is really bad,” said Margo, almost in a whisper. “Do you think the police will arrest him?”

  “I still think Roberta should talk to a lawyer and get some advice. Figure out where she stands, legally,” said Sasha. She had divorced two husbands already.

  “She’ll never do it. She’s still nuts about the guy.”

  “What a jerk!”

  “What about the farm?”

  “She can stay here for now, but there’s not much room.” Sasha appeared anxious.

  Roberta returned. They all went silent, pretending they hadn’t been talking about her. “Alice went over and milked the goats. She’s offered to look after them. Maybe I should go home.”

  “Really?” Sasha sat back, surprised. “You said you wouldn’t go back to him.”

  “I’m not. I’m going to kick the bastard out. That’s my home. Why should I have to be the one that leaves? He can go find somewhere else to live.”

  “Is it safe for you to do that?” Margo asked.

  “Safe? Me? Erik would never hurt me.”

  “You don’t know that. Someone killed Stella, and Angus Smith. There’s a murderer on the loose and, whether you like it or not, Erik will be a suspect.”

  Roberta sat down again. “I’m starving,” she said. “I didn’t eat last night.”