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Audiobook
First published July 2, 2012
People along the coastline in Grand Bank could set their clocks by Elias Martin. Every morning, even when the fog floated in from Fortune, they saw his hunched figure climb and disappear in the mist that ran the shoreline like a rum runner. You could put a pot of soup on to boil when he set out and be sure that when he appeared again that the potatoes, carrots, and turnips would be soft and sweet.The point is: Seventy-two year old Elias Martin was dead.
Mavis Emberly was one such soup-maker who relied on Elias Martin to set the pace for her weekly batch of pea soup.
“There he goes,” she remarked to her husband, Francis, "Time to put the soup on”.
An hour and a half later Francis Emberly muttered, “Something’s burning in that kitchen, maid.” Mrs. Emberly ran to the kitchen to turn off her black bottomed soup with a smattering of non-religious but surely immoral curses and immediately realized that something else was wrong besides her spoiled soup. Elias hadn't returned. "Or else I missed him," she decided.
Every morning for the past eleven years Elias Martin had his breakfast of hot porridge and thick molasses bread smothered in partridgeberry jam. Then, rain or shine, he began his solitary walk from his small blue house on Elizabeth Avenue in Grand Bank, Newfoundland, down through the Cove, and until the winter snow made it impassable, up over the hills to the Cape.
The only one who knew for sure was Elias Martin and he sure wasn’t talking. Who would finally unravel the mystery of the Walker on the Cape?Thirty-two year old Sergeant Winston Windflower, of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, a full-blooded Cree from the Pink Lake Reserve in Northern Alberta, thought Elias's death was suspect and he planned to get to the bottom of the simmering, boiling pot. For once there was more to work on than the petty crimes and motor accidents in the village. And as an incomer, he still had to prove himself after being there for only one year. But what to do when there were always secrets to protect in a small community like this?
Some men smoke, drink or chase women as their vice. Windflower's was peanut butter cheesecake.With the shocking death of Elias, more peas in the pot of Grand Bank got names: