The forest of masts, of the sailing vessels at dock, swayed and bobbed. The tops of the furled sails visible behind the retaining wall that separated the traffic of the street from the foot traffic on the lower level walkway around the Victoria Inner Harbor.
Mike had finally found a parking spot and had abandoned his coat in the back seat. Rolling up his shirtsleeves he looked up at the scattering cloud of the sky. The watery yellow sun had broken through and was shining down warming the air.
There was a slight breeze that just lifted the hair and clothes of the passersby. City boy though he was, Mike could tell that the breeze was the precursor of some incoming weather and the high clouds scudding before it would be followed on by darker, wetter cousins.
Still the sun was bright enough now, and he retrieved his sunglasses from the dash. There were people everywhere, here at the inner harbor.
This was the city of Victoria at her finest. Wharf Street and Government Street, full of shops, formed one side of the tourist promenade. Opposite, across the small cove of the Inner Harbor behind a broad green lawn were the ornate granite BC Parliament buildings. They stood in their Edwardian glory; the grand entrance, the arched windows, towers and domes presided with an air of pompous hauteur over the edge of the harbor.
Enthroned between these two points, sat the aging jewel that was the Empress Hotel. Huge and regal, she was a grand, vine covered Lady. She had been built in the Edwardian style, more than a century ago. Four hundred and fifty rooms had been lovingly restored to their original splendor.
High Tea at the Empress was something that was a tradition in Victoria. Behind her sat the Convention center and across the street the provincial museum, but it was the Empress that held court in the Inner Harbor.
Mike strolled along amid the crowds, and though he was enjoying looking at the sights he found that his eyes were watching for a specific face, a brown plait, and his ears were waiting to catch a sweet laugh or the soft lilt of a certain voice.
She said she was going to be busking at the inner harbor, he thought as he searched the crowd. Some people strolled by, some stopped to chat in groups and some just milled about taking in the sights.
A red double-decker bus pulled up to the curb and a flock of camera carrying tourists was disgorged onto the broad sidewalk. Mike stepped to the stone railing at the inside edge of the sidewalk to pass by the flock who were all stopped and craning their necks, looking about trying to get their bearings.
When he looked over the railing's edge, he realized that there was another walkway perhaps fifteen feet below, just as broad and just as crowded, but much closer to the water. Passing by the marina, it skirted the edge of the inner harbor.
There were multiple sail boats at anchor there as well as two tall ships, both small schooners tied up to the docks that stretched out into the water.
Directly below him he saw people standing in a semi circle watching a man juggling torches while simultaneously keeping up a loud and raucous conversation with the crowd.
Mike followed the railing until he came to a broad stair that worked its way down to the lower level walkway. If anything it was more crowded here, and as he descended, Mike benefited from the fact that he stood head and shoulders above most of the crowd.
There was a small group standing around what appeared to be a Tarot card reader seated on the bottom step with his cards spread out on a lap desk. Mike glanced down to the arcane cards spread out in a neat pattern, then swept his gaze further along.
He passed by two teenage girls, seated on folding chairs, playing a beautiful classical piece, one on the flute and the other the cello. Incongruously an Iroc-blue electric guitar lay propped against an amp behind them.
He allowed the crowd to carry him onward and it was when he was opposite one of the aging schooners that he heard her concertina take the air.
It could be any one playing the concertina, he thought, but I am sure it's her. I know it is. A moment later his confidence was rewarded when he heard her voice as it rose up in a song, the lyric not at all demure or reserved.
"A handsome young sailor to London, come down.
He'd been paid off his ship in old Liverpool town.
They've asked him his name and he answered them quite:
I belong to a family, called Nine Times a Night...
Now, a handsome young widow that still wore her weeds,
Her husband had left her in money and deeds.
Resolved she was on her, conjugal rights,
For to soften her sorrows, wi' Nine Times a Night..."
There was a discordant chord and then a loud squeaking wheeze as the tune stopped abruptly and he heard Jenny's voice.
"Murray, I thought you were going to bring up the mandolin after the second verse?"
There was a mumbled response that Mike paid very little attention to, as he swung his head from side to side searching for Liath's figure.
When the music started up again he realized that it was coming from onboard the tall ship tied up to the dock close at hand.
He waited for the song, which had resumed, with the appropriate mandolin breaks to wind its way through to the last verse:
"Says Jack, my dear bride, you mistook me quite wrong,
As I said to that family I do belong.
But nine times a night's a bit hard for a man
I couldn't do it myself...but my sister, she can!"
A final chord on the concertina and then Mike seized the chance while there was a moment of silence.
"Liath, Liath Roane," he shouted.
A hundred heads turned in his direction. His cheeks reddened but he persisted, all the while cursing his fair coloring.
"Liath, are you there? It's me Mike."
There was a discordant squawk, as she closed the bellows and then as the surrounding people turned in interest to watch, Liath herself appeared at the gangplank of the ship, her concertina under her arm.
"Mike," she called as she smiled down at him, the baby-fine ends of the hair that had escaped her braid lifting around her brow. We've just been having a bit of a practice, for the gig tonight."
Mike pushed back his hair from his face and shouted up towards her, the crowd around him forgotten, "I was wondering if you wanted to get a bite of dinner, before your gig."
Liath looked down on more than fifty upturned smiling faces, all awaiting her response. Her eyes found his.
"Give me but a moment Michael, I'll be right down."
There was a sudden smattering of applause, and blushing prettily, Liath retreated below.
Mike stood with his arms across his chest waiting and nodded brusquely to the couple of passersby who thumped him on the back in congratulations; he could not quite keep the grin from conquering his face.
***
At five they were sitting over thin porcelain cups of Sake and a platter of sashimi and sushi, in a tiny Japanese restaurant on Cook Street just above Dallas Road. Mike watched leaning on his elbows as Liath lifted the chopsticks to her lips.
"Tuna sashimi is one of my favorites," she said, "are you sure you won't try it Michael?"
Mike shook his head, "No thanks, Tempura and California roles are about as adventurous as I get."
She nodded, her smile only in her eyes. Mike watched her pat her lips with the napkin.
"Well then Michael," she said, "won't you tell me a little more about yourself? Have you been in law enforcement for a long time?"
Mike sat back in his chair, with a sigh. "It's that obvious is it?"
"Yes and no," she replied, holding the chopsticks poised in her hand. "It's obvious that you care a great deal about others. It's obvious that you know how to handle yourself. It's obvious that you have a kind and gentle heart. It follows that you want justice to be done."
Mike opened his mouth to protest, but she continued while he sputtered. "Unless I am seriously off my mark, and Michael, I have to warn you that I very seldom am, you feel a responsibility to make sure that justice is served and the weak are protected."
"Detective, with the Toronto PD," Mike said, admitting defeat.
"Ah," she said nodding. "Well, I suppose it was either that or superhero," she said with a glint in her eye.
Mike let out a relieved breath, "It doesn't bother you? Sometimes it makes people uncomfortable."
"That I guess would depend on what you are investigating, you're not investigating me, are you Michael?" she said laughingly.
Her expression sobered, when she saw his face. "Michael…?"
"Liath, I am here investigating a couple of organizations, tied to persons of interest in a multiple homicide investigation." He ducked his head slightly, looking at his cup. "This afternoon I met with Doctor Andersen at the Victoria Aquatic Mammal…"
"You met with Becky…" she said, her tone cautious, inquiring.
Most people would be on the run right now, he thought, it looks as though I met up with her only to further my investigation. That is the fucking last thing that I want her to think.
"Liath, when I met you on the ferry, I swear I didn't know you were involved with the Society, I just found out this afternoon…"
"Well of course you didn't Michael…how could you?" Liath interrupted, suddenly understanding his apparent unease. "How can I help?" she asked simply.
Mike glanced quickly to her face, "So you're not angry?"
She smiled and reached out to touch his cheek with her warm fingers, "Can you tell me about it, perhaps I know something or someone…?"
***
"So there was salt water in the lungs of all the victims?" Liath said as Mike unlocked the car door for her.
"Yes, and seal hairs found on all the bodies, which led us to the Aquariums and the environmental…activists," Mike hesitated before he reluctantly finished his thought.
When they were seated in the car Liath turned to him.
"It's all right Michael, I already knew I was an 'activist'" she said, waggling her eyebrows on the last word. "There have been some problems here in town," she said thoughtfully, "a couple of people beaten up and property destroyed, some threatening letters, that sort of thing, and Maxine Beaumont says her son Teddy is missing, since he went down to Toronto for a big exposé operation on a Chinese medicinal supply company trafficking in endangered species…parts." The look on her face said disgust.
"You don't seem too perturbed," Mike said, surprised by her calm demeanor.
"It happens more than you might imagine Michael, being in the way of someone's profit can be a dangerous place."
"Speaking of missing persons, there is also a connection to the Society through a client of my ex-partner Vicki Nelson."
He saw Liath's eyebrows rise and said quickly, "We used to be partners when we were both on the force, now she works as a PI. Anyways, she has a missing person case involving an Orion Gaelan. The same guy who is the photographer for the Society, I saw his work in the Gallery at the offices this afternoon."
He was driving back along Fairfield Road towards Liath's house.
I can feel the net entangle me, she thought as she looked across at Mike, his attention focused on the car ahead for a moment. I don't want to lie to him, there is something good in this man and I want to know him. I'll tell him as much as I think he will understand. I wish I could tell him…
"Orion Gaelan is a distant relation of mine, Michael. I saw him in Vancouver not more than three weeks ago. Who is searching for him? Is it his…wife?" Her tone dropped to one of enmity on the last word."
"Vicki said it was his wife and father-in-law," he said, a little surprised by her tone.
"Orion was not…happy, inside of his marriage, Michael. He finally managed to escape that unfortunate entanglement. He said he was thinking of taking a job on a fishing crew, somewhere up in the Charlottes."
"And you haven't seen him since?"
Liath shook her head, "No."
"Turn left here," she said, "it's the fourth house along."
When Mike pulled up, he got out and went to the trunk. He lifted out Liath's guitar case and handed her the concertina case.
She leaned up on her toes, her brown eyes wide and soft and then she pressed a warm kiss to his lips.
"So will you be there tonight, Michael?" she asked, as his arms came up around her.
"Front and center, at eight o'clock on the dot," he said, and then he bent his head and returned the gentle kiss.
He stood, hands in pockets, on the sidewalk watching until with her last wave the door swung closed behind her.