ATM card used on east side of city hours after attack
Tip from Florian Grellier following DUI arrest (info obtained from unknown bar patron; O’Keefe plus AKAs?) concerning Christelle
Christelle’s body found in shallow grave near Oka eighteen months after disappearance, skeletonized
Cranial fractures indicate blows with a shovel (Anne-Isabelle beaten with cane)
Seventy-two
Widow, lived alone in apartment in Montreal, Boulevard Eduard-Montpetit
Married three times
Son and daughter, Otto and Mona, in Alberta, estranged
Stepson, Myron Pinsker in Montreal
Hippie. Active social life.
Jewish
Cabin near Memphremagog. Existence known only to building super, Lu Castiglioni
Owned and drove auto, took local trips
Vehicle found at cabin
Fire. Accelerant indicates arson.
Found in cabin three months after disappearance, body decomposed and burned
Ayers autopsy. No obvious cause of death.
I stared at the lists, willing an idea to go off in my mind. Or on. Like an overhead bulb in a comic strip.
Didn’t happen. Only questions emerged. I began jotting them down.
The Villejoins were Francophone. Rose Jurmain was American, undoubtedly Anglophone. Did Marilyn Keiser speak French or English? Or both?
Keiser’s estate would go to her kids. The Villejoin sisters left everything to the Humane Society. Who stood to benefit from Rose Jurmain’s death?
Keiser was Jewish. The Villejoins were Catholic. Rose Jurmain?
Keiser had two kids. The Villejoins and Jurmain had none. Did Rose’s partner, Janice Spitz, have offspring?
An American lesbian with substance abuse problems. Two spinsters who rarely ventured from their home. A socially active grandmother married three times and estranged from her kids.
Did these women have anything in common besides violent death?
Keiser and Jurmain liked back-to-nature getaways. The Villejoins never left Pointe-Calumet.
Keiser and Jurmain had large families from whom they were disconnected. The Villejoins had only each other, maybe distant relatives in the Beauce.
The Villejoins were bludgeoned. Jurmain and Keiser had suffered no skeletal trauma.
Keiser was torched in her country chalet. Anne-Isabelle was left in her home. Christelle was buried in a shallow grave. Jurmain was dumped on the surface.
Were we looking for linkage that didn’t exist?
I started anew, focusing on commonalities.
Every victim was female.
Every victim was old or appeared to be old.
Every victim died within the past three years.
Except for Anne-Isabelle, every victim was found in a remote wooded area.
Coincidence? I didn’t believe it.
I was logging off when window glass exploded into the room.
Heart hammering, I dove for the floor.
24
I LAY BELLY TO THE CARPET, ARMS FLUNG OVER MY HEAD. I SENSED stinging on my left shoulder and cheek.
Traffic sounds drifted in from the street. A man singing. The hum of a transformer next to the building behind mine.
Inside the condo, nothing but quiet.
Cold air was rapidly chilling the room.
I opened my eyes. The upended lamp was out. Light from my computer screen sparked fragments of glass scattered around me.
Then, in the stillness, I heard a soft crunch.
A footstep?
My breath froze in my throat.
Pushing with my palms, I hopped up into a squat and twisted.
Birdie was staring at the window with round yellow eyes, one forepaw frozen like a setter on point.
“Birdie,” I hissed. “Come here.”
The cat kept staring.
“Bird.” I reached out a hand. It was shaking.
Birdie took a tentative step toward the window, nose up and twitching, instincts roused by the unfamiliar scent of outdoors.
Keeping low, I duckwalked across the room, scooped and pressed the cat to my chest, then strained for further sounds. Did I sense another presence in the condo?
My ears picked up nothing but Birdie’s breathing and my own racing heart.
As my vitals normalized, questions ricocheted in my head.
What the hell had just happened? An explosion in the restaurant across the alley? A collision in the street?
Had someone fired a missile? A cherry bomb? A bottle rocket?
Who?
Kids, drunk or stoned or simply careless?
Or had my window just taken a bullet? If so, had the shooting been accidental? A random drive-by?
Had the hit been intentional, the barrel aimed specifically at me?
