Deadly Fall Read Free Page A

police. “I work out most days in the basement before work. I assumed Callie was jogging through our neighborhood. It never occurred to me that she would run on the (Elbow River) pathway before dawn.”
    He wasn’t surprised when his wife didn’t return home for breakfast. “I saw no reason to worry about her being out at that hour. I’ve always considered Calgary to be a safe city.” He didn’t report her missing.
    An autopsy will be performed today. Preliminary evidence shows no indication of struggle or sexual assault. Homicide police are investigating.
    No sexual assault, thank God, but what was the motive? Robbery? You wouldn’t expect a jogger to carry much cash.
    Strange that the article mentioned Callie’s old volunteer work and made no reference to her current pursuit of a masters degree in music. Yet it highlighted Sam’s, Kenneth’s, Cameron’s, and Skye’s achievements. Callie was more than the wife of two alpha men and the mother of alpha children.
    Sam hadn’t realized his wife was missing. The police must have shown up at his office with the dreadful news and taken him to the morgue to identify the body. It had probably fallen to him to contact Callie’s children, her sister in Toronto, her brother in Montreal, any close friends, and possibly her ex-husband Kenneth.
    Paula had to call Sam. The article said he was an early riser, but he might be sleeping late after a troubled night. First, she would shower and dress, then phone Gary at his office. Her ex would want to know that the murder victim was their friend.
    She got Gary’s voice mail. “Thanks for phoning last night,” she said. “Yes, the murder has shaken me up. Call if you want to talk.”
    She tried Sam’s house next. To her surprise, a woman answered.
    â€œHe’s not in,” the woman said. “Who’s calling?” Callie’s voice.
    It was all a mistake. Another body had been falsely identified. Callie was alive. Don’t be stupid.
    â€œIs anyone there?” the young woman said.
    â€œSkye? Is that you?”
    â€œUh huh.”
    â€œIt . . . it’s Paula. Paula Savard, your mother’s friend.”
    â€œYou and a hundred others.”
    â€œPardon?”
    â€œNow that she’s dead, people are phoning non-stop, claiming they were her friends. Why weren’t you there for her when she was alive?”
    The answering machine’s “01” message stared up at Paula. If she had returned that Monday call, she and Callie might have met for lunch and Callie might have told her . . . what?
    â€œSkye, I’m so sorry about your mother,” she said. “The last time I saw her was at your play. Congratulations, by the way, on the Betty award. I phoned Callie when I heard. She wasn’t home. I left a—”
    â€œLook, Paula, I can’t chat with you now. We’re up to our fucking ears in funeral arrangements.”
    Paula’s stomach knotted. “Are you staying with Sam?”
    â€œWhy would I do that?” The voice was Callie’s with an edge.
    â€œI thought, maybe—”
    â€œMy aunt drags me over here to discuss funerals, and then Sam buggers off.”
    The knot tightened. “Will he be back soon?”
    â€œHe didn’t say.”
    â€œI’ll leave my number for him to call. Do you have a paper and pen?” Skye’s aunt would be Callie’s sister. Paula hadn’t seen her in twenty years. The funeral might be too formal and pressured for a genuine talk. “Will there be a visitation?”
    â€œWe decided not to go through with that.” Skye’s voice drifted from the phone. “Where the fuck do they keep pens around here?”
    Paula looked out at the garage thermometer. It was already pushing toward sixty degrees.
    â€œNever mind,” she said. “I’ll come over for a short visit. Will you be there