Chapter 25: CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

Daniel de Montelier didn’t like wasting time in this village. While Harold Creighton was the prime suspect in the murder of Gairmond Arak, anyone of the cast or crew could have done it. Didn’t make any sense, though, unless Arak saw something or heard something he shouldn’t have.

Somebody had something to hide.

He walked to Arak’s home, stepped into the office. Someone stood in the middle of the room, a woman, her back turned. When he walked to the desk he recognized her as the actress who played the main role in the movie. Her name escaped him at the moment, and he didn’t bother to ask as he sat down.

“How did you get in?”

“The door was unlocked.” A rather noticeable Italian accent.

“Ah, yes, these aliens are so trusting, aren’t they? Don’t even bother with locks.”

“I need help.”

“What can I do for you, Ms...”

“Corovelli, Benita Corovelli.”

“What can I do for you?”

“How about Barbara Co... Cor... Corville?”

“That’s not why you came here.”

“I’m going to change my name to something more... American. I’ve lived in that country for five years now, and I don’t feel like a Benita Corovelli anymore.”

He said nothing, not sure why she was mentioning a name change.

She leaned her upper body over the desk, her breasts ready to pop out at any moment. “I have to get out of here. I know you have a small plane just outside the village. It’s sitting on the air strip, isn’t it?”

“I’m not a commercial pilot. That’s an official RCMP plane.”

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“I thought you Canadians rode horses.”

“Not when we’re investigating a murder.”

“I just need to go to Toronto.”

“I fly to Moosonee.”

“All right, Moosonee.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Corovelli, but I’m not going anywhere right now. I’m working on this case.”

She bit her lower lip, seemed deep in thought. “All right.” She stood up. He didn’t like the way she was looking at him, like a lioness sizing up potential prey.

He watched her leave, shook his head. Was that despair in her eyes?

He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes. He wanted to close this case and mark it unsolved. The knife that had been stuck into Gairmond Arak could have been handled by anyone. Of course there weren’t any fingerprints; the killer wouldn’t be that stupid.

Who owned the knife? Where had it come from? It was an ordinary kitchen carving knife, used to slice roast and other meats. Sharp, pointy, black handle.

He was surprised that the phone didn’t ring more often. Nobody seemed to call up here, nobody showed any interest in the aliens.

Old news? Human beings always craved something new and different.

He wished it would ring. He wished his superiors were on the other end, telling him he had been transferred to Regina, or even Flin Flon, any other place except here. Why did his captain pick him to patrol this godforsaken piece of real estate?

Anyone else would have been fascinated by these aliens.

Colonel Westwood was out there, plotting to take these aliens away. He couldn’t let that happen. Leave it to the Americans to take credit for something that was none of their business. So arrogant, so high and mighty, they thought that any aliens out there would automatically land in their backyard. Well, fuck you, Colonel Westwood, and all your American friends, we’ve got them now and we’re keeping them. If you want to examine them, you’ll have to come up here, and any examination will be done right here, in the village, in Ontario, Canada, and it’ll be done under our supervision.

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