Forty Words for Sorrow by Giles Blunt Read Free Book Online Page A

that it still contained Katie’s books. Black Beauty , Nancy Drew, stories his own daughter had enjoyed as a girl. Why do we think they’re so different from us? He opened the chest of drawers—the socks and underwear neatly folded.
    There was a little box of costume jewellery that played a tune when opened. It contained an assortment of rings and earrings and a couple of bracelets—one leather, one beaded. Katie had been wearing a charm bracelet the day she disappeared, Cardinal remembered. Stuck in the dresser mirror, a series of four photographs taken by a machine of Katie and her best friend making hideous faces.
    Cardinal regretted leaving Delorme at the squad room to chase after Forensic. She might have seen something in Katie’s room that he was missing, something only a female would notice.
    Gathering dust at the bottom of the closet were several pairs of shoes, including a patent leather pair with straps—Mary Janes? Cardinal had bought a pair for Kelly when she was seven or eight. Katie Pine’s had been bought at the Salvation Army, apparently; the price was still chalked on the sole. There were no running shoes; Katie had taken her Nikes to school the day she disappeared, carrying them in her knapsack.
    Pinned to the back of the closet door was a picture of the high school band. Cardinal didn’t recall Katie being in the band. She was a math whiz. She had represented Algonquin Bay in a provincial math contest and had come in second. The plaque was on the wall to prove it.
    He called out to Dorothy Pine. A moment later she came in, red-eyed, clutching a shredded Kleenex.
    “Mrs. Pine, that’s not Katie in the front row of that picture, is it? The girl with the dark hair?”
    “That’s Sue Couchie. Katie used to fool around on my accordion sometimes, but she wasn’t in no band. Sue and her was best friends.”
    “I remember now. I interviewed her at the school. Said practically all they did was watch MuchMusic. Videotaped their favourite songs.”
    “Sue can sing pretty good. Katie kind of wanted to be like her.”
    “Did Katie ever take music lessons?”
    “No. She sure wanted to be in that band, though.”
    They were looking at a picture of her hopes. A picture of a future that would now remain forever imaginary.

7
    W HEN HE LEFT THE RESERVE, Cardinal made a left and headed north toward the Ontario Hospital. Advances in medication coupled with government cutbacks had emptied out whole wings of the psychiatric facility. Its morgue did double duty as the coroner’s workshop. But Cardinal wasn’t there to see Barnhouse.
    “She’s doing a lot better today,” the ward nurse told him. “She’s starting to sleep at night, and she’s been taking her meds, so it’s probably just a matter of time till she levels out—that’s my opinion, anyway. Dr. Singleton will be doing rounds in about an hour, if you want to talk to him.”
    “No, that’s all right. Where is she?”
    “In the sunroom. Just go through the double doors, and it’s—”
    “Thanks. I know where it is.”
    Cardinal expected to find her still adrift in her oversize terry dressing gown, but instead, Catherine Cardinal was wearing the jeans and red sweater he had packed for her. She was hunched in a chair by the window, chin in hand, staring out at the snowscape, the stand of birches at the edge of the grounds.
    “Hi, sweetheart. I was up at the reserve. Thought I’d stop in on the way back.”
    She didn’t look at him. When she was ill, eye contact was agony for her. “I don’t suppose you’ve come to get me out of here.”
    “Not just yet, hon. We’ll have to talk to the doctor about that.” As he got closer, he could see that the outline of her lipstick was uncertain and her eyeliner was thicker on one eye than the other. Catherine Cardinal was a sweet, pretty woman when she was well: sparrow-coloured hair, big gentle eyes and a completely silent giggle that Cardinal loved to provoke. I don’t make her laugh often