Something Fishy by Hilary MacLeod

view of the sunset. She would have to go. Money, he was sure, would get rid of her.
    He stalked out of the kitchen and marched up to Fiona’s trailer. Fiona knew a bully when she saw one. It was obvious he was coming for her.
    â€œGo back where you came from,” she screamed at him as he approached.
    He pasted on a smile, and waved.
    â€œI wanted to discuss a purchase of your land.” Money talked. Money talked for Anton in every encounter he had. Including those with women.
    â€œNot if you offered me a million dollars!”
    Anton couldn’t even produce what he was about to offer, but he’d worry about that later.
    â€œThis is my land, my uncle’s land, my grandfather’s land, all the way back more than two hundred years. That land you’re on was my family land, too.”
    â€œAnd that’s been for sale, time after time, so this piece must have a price on it, too.”
    â€œThe price is zero,” she crossed her chubby arms over her bosom, as a flicker of hope showed in his eyes. “There is no price.”
    What was she saying? Was this an offer, a tease? He would court her if he had to.
    â€œNothing could make me sell this place.”
    His hopes shriveled. He swallowed his disgust at what he had been prepared to do. Had done before.
    â€œNot a hundred thousand dollars?”
    She jutted out her chin and settled her arms more firmly into place.
    â€œTwo hundred thousand?”
    She said nothing. Neither did he. He was not willing to offer more. He didn’t even have a hundred thousand dollars left and there were demands on it. He thought there must be a way to make her cave in. He’d been acting rashly. He’d have to give it some thought. There must be a way to get rid of her.
    Of course. She was fat and single; she must be needy. He just had to butter her up. It came to him with a smile and an image he quickly cleared from his mind.
    Jamieson shoved her chair away from the table and looked down at the pile of blank white paper beside the printer. She very nearly smiled.
    The top paper was her weekly report to headquarters. It included the fish, of course, and a few incidentals. The next page and all the rest were blank. She picked them up and shoved them in a large brown envelope, already addressed. She hesitated a moment before she licked it and sealed it. The slight smile returned. She put it back down on the desk.
    It was the latest test.
    At first she had written longer and longer reports, to put her superiors off reading them. In her last she had inserted community gossip at the end to see if anyone was reading them at all.
    Everyone thought Gladys Fraser had gone missing, and I was called in, only to find her husband Wally had locked her in the shed. He swears he did so unintentionally, but I will be keeping an eye on him in the future.
    Jamieson thought if she were Wally Fraser, that’s exactly what she’d do with Gladys. She wasn’t the only one in the village who felt that way.
    Still have my eye on Jared MacPherson, although he seems to be keeping out of trouble these days. He found a girl in Winterside who’s moved in with him. She cut his hair. Made him brush his teeth. He looks half-human.
    Jamieson could hardly believe herself when she wrote these things. She should have her eye on Jared. He’d killed once – ruled an accident – and maybe twice, but she couldn’t prove it.
    No one in Charlottetown seemed to care what went on at The Shores. They never responded to her reports, and she began to slip in more and more outrageous comments.
    They’d forgotten The Shores. Forgotten her. At one time, she would have cared. Now she didn’t.
    She picked up the envelope, opened it, took up more sheets of paper, and shoved the whole lot in. All blank.
    Let’s see what they think about that.
    Jamieson had the feeling that they didn’t even open the envelopes. This would be the real test.
    Two years before,