Woman Chased by Crows Read Online Free Page A

you the truth, I don’t know what the hell she is.” Delisle stared out at the river. “It’s probably a waste of time.”
    â€œSomething personal with you?” Orwell asked.
    â€œAnna Daniel used to be with the Kirov or the Bolshoi or one of those, twenty-five, maybe thirty years ago,” Delisle began.
    â€œAnya.”
    â€œSay again?”
    â€œHer name. Not Anna, An-ya. I’ve met her,” Orwell said. “My youngest daughter, Leda, took some classes before deciding she’d rather save the world than do pliés.” Orwell’s steak arrived, charred on the outside, red in the middle, salad on the side. He had foregone the excellent baked potato and sour cream he would have liked. He was trying to lose a few kilos. Again. “Where’s your partner?”
    â€œI had some vacation time coming.”
    â€œSo this is personal.”
    â€œWhat’d you think of
Anya
?”
    â€œCan’t say we talked much. She was forthright. Said Leda was too tall, uncoordinated and had an attitude.”
    â€œDoes she?”
    â€œMy daughter? Definitely. The teacher, too. I like people with attitude. She defected, right?”
    â€œ1981, did a Baryshnikov in Toronto, asked for asylum.”
    â€œShe a citizen now?”
    â€œOh yeah, that’s all square. The Russians didn’t make much of a fuss. Not a
big
star.”
    Orwell attacked his six ounces of rare beef and, for appearance’s sake, a few bites of salad. “What’s the interest?”
    â€œShe confessed to a homicide.”
    Orwell blinked. “She did? When was this?”
    â€œSix years ago. In the city. Before she moved up here. Somebody dead in High Park. She was questioned.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œRoutine. She lived close to where it happened. She was seen in the park, walking in the park, no big deal, she wasn’t a suspect, we were questioning people in the neighbourhood, just routine, and out of the blue she confesses.”
    â€œTo you?”
    â€œIt was a follow-up interview after the uniform cops had canvassed the neighbourhood. Uniform made a note that she’d acted a bit weird and might be worth a second visit. My partner and I knocked on her door, she comes to the door with a drink in her hand, sees the badges and says, ‘Ah, there you are at last.’ We give her the just routine ma’am, follow up visit, in case you may have remembered something, and out of the blue she says, ‘I know what you are talking about. I know the man you are talking about. I killed him.’”
    â€œHoly cow.”
    â€œWell, ah yeah, but it didn’t check out. Everything was wrong with her story. She said she shot him, the guy was strangled, big guy, strangled, she’s a small woman, no way she strangles somebody that size. The body had been moved, no way she
moves
a guy that size. She took a polygraph, she lies about everything. Nothing checks out. She didn’t have a gun. She had an alibi but she didn’t use it, the super in her building says she was moving furniture, tying up the service elevator, he saw her five, ten times that day. She’s a loon.”
    â€œI know she’s seeing a psychiatrist,” Orwell said. “Dr. Ruth.” Delisle raised his eyebrows. “That’s her
last
name. Lorna Ruth. Anyway, Lorna’s in the medical building near the campus. Evangeline Street.”
    â€œShe won’t tell me anything, probably.”
    â€œNo, she won’t. I just mention it. You saying she was a loon. You want coffee?” Delisle nodded, distracted. “Doreen, couple of coffees?”
    â€œGot Dutch apple pie, Chief.”
    â€œTemptress. But I am strong. Maybe next week. You want dessert?” Delisle shook his head, his thoughts still elsewhere. “Where’s your partner in all this?”
    â€œWhat? Oh, Dylan? He’s retired. Six years ago. O’Grady. Black Irishman. Literally.