A Chill Rain in January by LR Wright Page A

sofa.
    â€œI’m not allergic to a single solitary thing,” said Cassandra. “Not that I know of, anyway.”
    â€œHey, did I tell you they’re graduating? Next week. In Calgary. Mortarboards and everything. Shit, I can’t believe it,” he said, smiling broadly. He glanced toward the end of the room, where sliding glass doors led to the patio. “Are those locked? I noticed your front door wasn’t,” he said disapprovingly.
    â€œOh God, Karl,” she said. She wanted to laugh but felt too tired.
    â€œOkay, okay. I hope you’ve got one of those drip things,” he said, going to the kitchen. “That’s the only kind of coffeepot I know how to use.”
    â€œDidn’t Mountie school teach you anything, for heaven’s sake? I thought for sure you’d have learned how to ride a horse. Skin a caribou. Trap a beaver. And make boiled coffee. Even I know how to make boiled coffee.”
    He looked at her reproachfully through the doorway to the kitchen. “Of course I learned how to ride a horse. I got my training in the old days.” He disappeared again, and Cassandra heard him opening cupboards.
    â€œIt’s the one to the left of the sink,” she told him.
    Her feet were getting cold, so she got up from the sofa to fetch slippers from her bedroom. While she was in there she opened the curtains. She brushed her hair in front of the mirror, tied her robe more tightly around her, and turned to leave the room. Then she looked down at the unmade bed. Sheets, blankets, pillows, and bedspread sprawled there invitingly, warm and wanton. It was a queen-sized bed, which was good, she thought, because he was a big man. She flushed, staring at the bed.
    â€œHave you got a tray somewhere?” he called out.
    Quickly she left the bedroom, closing the door behind her. “Yes,” she said. “I’ll get it.”
    A few minutes later they sat side by side on the sofa, drinking coffee. “Have you found Ramona yet?” said Cassandra.
    Alberg shook his head.
    â€œKarl,” she said, turning to him. “My God. I was sure she’d have turned up by now. It’s been a day and a night.”
    â€œWe’ve checked with everybody we can think of. Everybody Gillingham can think of. Everybody Isabella can think of. There’s not a sign of her.”
    â€œWell, but… What do you think?”
    Alberg shrugged. “She could have wandered off into the bush, I guess. Or maybe she found a place to hole up. It depends on how alert she is.”
    â€œShe kind of drifts in and out, I think.”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œShe’s not in her house? I heard the tenants—”
    â€œYeah. Hawaii. No, we got a key and checked the place out, Sid Sokolowski did; nobody inside. So Christ knows where she is.”
    â€œWhat do you do now?”
    He put down his coffee cup and stretched his arm along the back of the sofa. “We do a full-scale search. And we’ve got a description out up and down the Coast. Eventually somebody will spot her. It’s all we can do.”
    She reached over to squeeze his hand. “This is good coffee.”
    â€œNaturally it’s good coffee.”
    â€œDo you cook anything?”
    â€œOf course I cook. How do you think I eat?”
    â€œIn restaurants.”
    â€œOf course I cook. I’ve got some specialties that would make you drool.”
    â€œName one.”
    â€œMeat loaf.”
    â€œMeat loaf. Hmm. Do you want an ashtray?”
    He gave her an injured look. “Don’t you remember? I quit. Before you went away.”
    â€œI remember. But I thought you might have started again.”
    â€œNot this fella. Six months, it’s been.”
    â€œGood for you, Karl.”
    â€œNow,” he said softly. “Tell me about your mother.”
    Cassandra put down her cup. “She called me at two in the morning. She thought she was having a heart attack.