Death Spiral Read Online Free PDF Page B

of nothing. Out of just a series of coincidences. Or something!”
    Wilf wasn’t actually sure why. These thoughts had just come to him. He hadn’t made any effort. But once they were in his mind, they seemed shot through with a kind of urgency. They seemed the truth.
    “There must be some other explanation,” Carole said.
    “Like what?”
    “I don’t know. Maybe he thrashed around in excruciating pain. Maybe he spilled some water.”
    “Then it would have frozen on the floor.”
    “Maybe the floor was slanted. Maybe it ran off somewhere.”
    “There’d still be a skim of ice on the floor.”
    “People do not go around drowning people in our town!” Carole’s voice rang through the empty office and took her by surprise.
    Wilf felt a surge of joy. He hadn’t felt so much like his old self in months, but then again, in some way, at its heart, this feeling was nothing like his old self. “Is this the only Cruikshank file we have?” He got up out of his chair.
    Carole glanced up at the clock. It was almost five. Fifteen more minutes and she could go home. “No. That’s a new one. There’s at least two more.”
    Wilf was leaning over his desk toward her, looking obstinate. “Let’s have a look.”
    “I don’t believe anyone drowned Mr. Cruikshank.”
    “And I’m glad to hear you admitting that your opinion is actually only a belief.”
    “Don’t you think you should wait for your father?”
    “No.”
    Carole began to examine her fingernails. She’d painted them a soft coral colour. She’d been thinking about letting them grow longer but the problem was that even at a moderate length they began to interfere with her typing. She could feel her pulse beating in her wrist, she could see it.
    “Are you going to get the files?” Wilf asked.
    All she had to do was start typing. Why should she do anything else simply because there was an absence of towels in Mr. Cruikshank’s bathroom?
    Carole got up and with an irritated sigh she meant Wilf to hear, went over to the filing cabinets and pulled out two dog-eared files. She came back and dropped them on top of his desk.
    “Why don’t you pull up a chair?” Wilf said pleasantly, sitting back down. He began to leaf one-handed through one of them.
    Carole remained standing.
    After a while Wilf remarked, “Mr. Cruikshank and his wife seem to be in continual litigation. Against each other.”
    “Correct,” Carole replied.
    Wilf continued to read.
    Carole watched him. His dark hair, his dark eyes. For the first time since he’d arrived he seemed to be enjoying himself.
    “Mr. Cruikshank was the owner of quite a few farms,” she said, sounding more collaborative than she’d intended.
    Wilf nodded.
    “About a thousand acres in all.”
    He nodded again.
    Carole felt oddly encouraged. “A few years ago he left his wife and moved into town. She still lives on the home farm and runs things along with their son. Mr. Cruikshank always paid his son a fair wage and he continues to do so, but he refused to pay his wife anything.”
    Wilf looked up at her. He seemed impressed.
    “Frank Cruikshank, that’s the son, he made a formal offer to buy his father out. You’ll see it in there somewhere. Mr. Cruikshank refused the offer. He said Frank’s mother had put him up to it, it was a ridiculously low offer and if he’d only be patient he’d inherit everything anyway. That’s when Mrs. Cruikshank went to court and argued that by virtue of forty years of shared labour she had a proprietary right to a fair portion of the business. She lost that suit so she took him back to court to force him to pay her a reasonable wage for services provided. Mr. Cruikshank argued that he was providing her with free room and board which was the equivalent. The court forced him to pay her a reasonable wage. Mr. Cruikshank sued her, claiming that she was selling calves behind his back, cheating him blind. He lost his suit. She countersued for calumny and libel. She lost. Mr.