First things first

by donalee Moulton

• Cardinal is a paranormal mystery set in Nova Scotia — part of the Paranormal Canadiana Collection. It builds around the story of Catherine McIntosh, a little girl who died on April 23, 1889, one month short of her ninth birthday. Many believe Catherine is still with us today, and if you visit her grave in Pictou County, as I did, you will see the tumble of wonderful gifts people have left in her memory. Catherine introduced me to another world, and her story is the heartbeat of the book, my first paranormal mystery.
  
• Private Detective E.M. Montogomery also makes her first book-length appearance in Cardinal.  (Can you guess what E.M. stands for?) The Halifax-based investigator has previously appeared in eight short stories, which have been published in anthologies and magazines across Canada and the U.S. When I was thinking about a main character to interact with Catherine and find a missing flesh-and-blood woman, Em emerged as the frontrunner. Below she meets her client for the first time – and learns this case will not be business as usual.

Day One

Saturday, April 25^th

Halifax, Nova Scotia

Gord Gillis is 62. He’s a retired firefighter. He looks like a 62-year-old firefighter, I think. Now admittedly, I have no idea what a 62-year-old firefighter should look like. Except he should look like Gord Gillis.

It’s a circular argument, and it’s giving me a headache. This is the stage in the client interview where the private detective, that would be me, leans back, nods, makes soothing sounds, and shakes their head in sympathy. I learned this technique when I was a cop with the Halifax Regional Police, and it has served me well as sole owner and employee of Bold Pursuit, although, at the moment, there is no boldness or pursuing required. Just a lot of nodding.

Gord needs to get his fear out before he can move on to dealing with that fear. Which is why I am sitting at a table in the Easy Street Diner sipping a now-cold decaf coffee. And nodding. It’s time to move on. I lean forward and give Gord’s hand, the one hugging his mug for dear life, a sympathetic pat.

“Nell sounds wonderful,” I say.

“Ms. Montgomery, you have to believe me. She would never leave me.” Gord says this emphatically. A hint of spittle makes its way to the corner of his lips. A hint of uncertainty travels with it.

I give Gord’s hand another gentle pat. I tell him to call me Em, like we are old friends enjoying an early morning chat. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Tell me everything you know. Even the tiniest detail can be helpful.”

Gord has a lot of details, and in the end, very little information to help me locate his missing wife. Nell went to Pictou, about a two-hour drive from Halifax, on Monday. She’s trying to find a brother she didn’t know existed until her mother died a few months ago. The deal was Nell would visit the newspaper office, the library, and the genealogy centre. She also intended to talk to the locals to see if any of them knew anything about her brother. She was also going to have lunch with a former colleague from the RCMP.

“It was a long shot, but Nell felt she had to go.” Gord picks at his napkin, turns and looks out the window. “She said he was family. You don’t turn your back on family.”

“Someone did,” I point out softly.

Gord brings his eyes and his attention back to the table. “Nell’s mother died in January. MAID. She had stomach cancer and opted for an assisted death. That gave her time to get her affairs in order.”

I wait. Unburdening takes time. I also learned this when I was a cop. It’s Interrogation 101. Gord plucks at his napkin. He is reminding himself he is not sharing family secrets; he is helping to find his missing wife. “Nell’s father got a girl pregnant when they were both sixteen. We’re not sure what happened to the baby. All we know is the baby was a boy, and he was born in the spring of 1955.”

Gord returns to plucking the napkin, or what is left of it. “It sounds so silly when I say it out loud, but we thought that might be enough to find him. Pictou is small, like 3,000 people small. And Nell had to try.”

It’s clear I’m heading to Pictou, and I’d like to get under way as quickly as possible. Gord will have to be nudged. I reach over and take the napkin away from him. I wad it in a ball and toss it on my plate. “What makes you think Nell is missing?”

Gord reaches for what is left of his napkin. He looks down at the shredded paper. Finally, he looks up at me. “The ghost.”