Beautiful Lie the Dead by Barbara Fradkin Page A

the child, who’d unlatched their makeshift lid on his crib and clambered free.
    Jules had encouraged Green to look beyond the surface, to probe the parents’ backgrounds and to interview more than a hundred people in pursuit of the truth. All the while he’d never once raised his voice or clenched his fist, even at the end when the Crown declined to prosecute, having decided that the parents had done all they could to protect a very difficult, ingenious child.
    Yet last night Jules had appeared to him in his dream vibrant with passion. What was his subconscious trying to tell him?
    What had it detected in Jules’s mysterious request about the missing woman?
    The morning shift was just gearing up when Green arrived at the spectacular new station known as the Colonies. He signed in, traded greetings with the officers on the front desk and took the stairs two at a time to the top floor. Jules’s clerk wasn’t at her desk but his door was ajar, so Green strode in without knocking. Jules was at his closet, unwinding a long scarf from his neck.
    â€œI was hoping I’d catch you.”
    Jules pivoted, his hands smoothing his collar. A spasm of concern crossed his face, quickly erased. “Michael,” was all he said. “You’re a hard man to reach.Jules didn’t reply. Never explain, never make excuses, had always been his mantra. He closed his office door and gestured to a seat opposite his massive desk, which sat against the window. “I’m afraid I can’t offer coffee just yet.”
    Green sat down. Orleans was a huge suburb which spilled over every inch of farmland and hillside for miles. The Colonies were tucked into the countryside part way up the Orleans escarpment, and Jules had a sweeping view of the Queensway, the lowland swamp and the Ottawa River beyond. He stood now with his back to Green as if fascinated by the view.
    â€œLike a luxury hotel, isn’t it?”
    â€œAdam, what’s your connection to Meredith Kennedy?”
    Jules didn’t move. Green could read nothing in his rigid back.
    â€œNone.”
    â€œGive me some credit. The woman is missing and an entire city is looking for her. And you know something—”
    â€œI know nothing.”
    â€œThen why did you ask me about a missing person even before she was reported missing?”
    Finally Jules turned around. He was faintly pink but otherwise unmoved. “I can assure you I know nothing useful to the investigation. If I learn anything, I will tell you.”
    â€œBut how did you know she was missing?”
    Jules grew pinker. Green realized he was angry, although his only gesture was to draw back his white shirt cuff and check his watch. “None of that is relevant. You have my word, and that should be enough.” His nostrils flared as he calmed himself with an effort. “A concern was raised to me privately, but now that there is an official investigation and every effort is being made to find the woman, I have nothing useful to add. Now if you’ll excuse me—”
    He crossed the room to open the door. Green stood up and approached him. “What did you think had happened to her? Did you have some knowledge that she’d been in an accident?”
    â€œMichael, it was a general inquiry. I knew no details, about an accident or anything else.”
    Green left the Colonies profoundly dissatisfied. He’d never known Adam Jules to lie or to obstruct a police investigation— the man was obsessively honest—yet this time he had come perilously close to both. He knew something, but no amount of badgering was going to pry it from him. Jules was an honourable man, and it was obvious that he’d given someone his word not to divulge what he knew. After twenty-five years of working together, he did not trust Green enough to confide in him. Was this distrust just an expression of Jules’s secretive nature, or was there a more sinister reason