Free Blood on a Saint by Anne Emery Page A

wouldn’t know anything about that. I just used to see her go in and out of the building. Didn’t really know her.”
    “Did she seem happy the times you saw her? Or could you tell if anything was bothering her?”
    “No, I wouldn’t be able to tell one way or the other. Teenagers, you know! There’s nothing I can help you with.”
    “Her family — ”
    “Hardly ever saw them. I have to go now. Sorry.”
    It was much the same at the other doors. Nobody had ever seen much of Jordyn or the members of her family. A couple of people mentioned that Jordyn’s mother seemed nice, quiet, almost shy. There was an older sister, but she too seemed to come and go without connecting with the other residents of the building. The brother, Jason, was never there; he lived somewhere else.
    Finally, at a little one-and-a-half-storey house across from the apartment block, he found someone willing to chat. Lorena Gouthro invited him in for tea and told him she had been living in the house since leaving Cape Breton in 1971, and still dreamed of going home. But here she was, still in Fairview, still missing New Waterford.
    “So, Lorena, is there anything you can tell me about Jordyn, the people around her, anything that might help ensure we find who really killed her?”
    “I used to be a little concerned about her.”
    “Oh? Why’s that?”
    “Nothing definite at all. It’s just that I used to see her coming home very late at night. I don’t mean night. It was morning, but it would be dark. I’m up at five in the mornings because of medication that I’m on; it conks me out early in the evening, and I wake up early in the morning. But I suppose I shouldn’t make too much of the hours Jordyn would keep. She was a teenager, so late nights go with the territory. And I never saw her with a boyfriend, if that’s what you’d like to know. I’m sure she dated; she was a very pretty girl. But I don’t remember seeing her with a fellow here in the neighbourhood.”
    “Are you acquainted with the Sniders?”
    “Dana, the mother. I see her once in a while at the Bluenose getting groceries, though I haven’t seen her to speak to since the murder. I slipped a card under their door, but haven’t had a chance to convey my sympathy in person. Poor Dana, she’s a very nice person. Always friendly. A bit timid, but she always says hello, asks how I am, cautions me to watch out for the ice on winter days, that sort of thing.”
    “That’s what other people have told me, how quiet Jordyn’s mother is. Was, even before this tragedy. Was Jordyn a quiet girl, or . . . ?”
    “Wouldn’t have to be at her age. She could get out with her friends, blow off some steam, carry on with other young people. But of course I never saw her anywhere but here on the street.”
    “You said ‘blow off steam.’ Was there something going on, something that makes you think she might have had to blow off steam?”
    “Oh, I have no idea, honestly. I really didn’t know the girl. I was just thinking of the mother. It didn’t look as if she got out much.”
    “How about Jordyn’s father?”
    “Stepfather. He wasn’t the fellow that was here when they first moved in. I’ll get a nod or a hello from him when I see him, but I’ve never had a conversation with him.”
    “Anything else? Can you tell me a bit more about these late homecomings?”
    “Just that I’d see her walking home in the wee hours. Not with anybody, and that’s why I worried a bit. A young girl alone on a dark street. Probably just coming home from a party. And before you ask, she didn’t look as if she was drunk or on drugs. But when I think of it now, it was only on a few occasions. And it was years ago. Not recently at all.”
    “All right, Lorena. If you think of anything else, I’d appreciate it if you’d give me a call. Here’s my card. And thanks for your time today.”
    “You’re welcome, Montague.”
    †
    Monty had not learned much of anything from his