Gunner cruised slowly out of the wooded area and approached the fountain. Behind the splashing water, they could see a red BMW car parked diagonally in front of the garage. The driver’s door was open with a man kneeling on the pavement beside it. His hands were above his head. The uncontrolled shaking made his body weave back and forth. His breathing was ragged, his face pallid. He had a harried, wild glint in his eyes that made Gibson think of a coiled rattlesnake. Only a few metres away, a curly-haired lady sat on the bottom step of the porch with a gun aimed at the man’s chest. She held the Colt 1911 like it was her friend. It was obvious to Gibson, she was comfortable with the semi-automatic pistol. That made the situation even more dangerous.
Gunner cruised in as close as he could, coming to a halt far enough away as not to be a threat.
The lady looked suspiciously at them.
The man turned at the sound of a vehicle.
Although Gibson realized who they were, he was confused. He opened his car door and stepped out.
“Get this crazy lady away from me,” Jackson screeched. His voice was raspy, a tinge of fear on the edges.
The detective crept forward a few steps.
“Halt or I’ll blast him right now,” Paula said, grinning menacingly.
Gibson stopped abruptly.
“In case you’re wondering, I do know how to use it. It’s Guy’s.” She laughed. “He was good for something. Even showed me how to use it.”
“Paula. What’s going on?”
She waved the gun in the air, pointing over to Gunner for a brief moment. “Tell your buddy there to remain right where he is or...”
Gunner stood by his door. He backed up and held up his hands, palms faced outwards. The blue lights swept over and around them.
Paula kept her arm straight out, never faltering. “It was Jackson.”
“Paula. What are you talking about?”
“No, you don’t get it. Do you? Take a gander at his broken headlight. I saw his fancy car at the party. I saw him behind the wheel when he ran over my boy. Is everything clear to you now?”
The pain beneath her anger showed in her stiff jaw. She stared at Jackson with cold, hard eyes.
“We’ll bring him in for questioning,” Gibson said.
Paula turned her gaze toward the detective and shook her head. “I don’t think so. He’s filthy rich. He’ll get away with it.”
“I’ll make sure—”
“Ryder died a few hours ago.”
Gibson lowered his head and rubbed at his temple. Why hadn’t someone told him that?
“I’ve got nothing to live for. If it’s over for me, it’s over for that scumbag.” She had been holding her finger over the trigger. Now she let it rest on the cold steel.
A swoosh sounded as the front door opened. Paula didn’t bother to turn, but let out a loud chuckle. “Here comes the faithful wife, coming to save her husband. You’re pathetic. He doesn’t deserve you, sweetheart.”
Mrs. Parker took one step forward and wavered. Gibson shook his head and motioned with his hand for her to move back indoors. Lori glimpsed at Jackson, backed away and shut the door.
“For Christ sake, do something. She’s going to kill me,” Jackson pleaded.
Gibson was surprised at the wrath of Paula. She had seemed a level-headed woman. Now she was talking like a mad person. He had to find a way to stop her. It had to be something that would resonate with her or she would pull the trigger. He had no doubt of that.
“Is this what you want for Ryder?” Gibson said. “Let me help you.”
“For Ryder? He can’t feel anything anymore.” Paula stroked the trigger gently with her finger.
“Ryder was trying to turn his life around. I think sometimes he felt he was destined to be a criminal like his father. Like Guy. He didn’t want to go down that same road. He looked up to you. He was proud that you were his mother,” Gibson pleaded, his voice was smoothly professional, although inside his nerves were raw.
“What? A murderer for a mother. That’s what I’m going to be.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way. You could stop now,” Gibson said quietly, almost a whisper.
“You need a happy ending, detective?” Paula turned to Gibson. “A fairy tale to tell your children?”
Gibson blanched, but held her gaze. His steel grey eyes softened. He wanted her to get through this. As he watched, her hand lowered a fraction. He almost spoke. He wanted to encourage her with soothing words, but he knew it was better to let her work it out herself.
Paula stared into his grey eyes. She was locked in conflict. A free-fall to the bottom would be easy. It would take courage to hold onto her soul. A tiny flicker sparked as she lowered her gaze. Maybe a thought of her son crossed her mind. She placed the gun on the step gently. Heavy sobs racked her body.
Gibson moved in and picked up the gun. He switched the safety latch on and tucked it into his jacket pocket.
“She tried to kill me. Arrest her,” Jackson yelled. He stood up and brushed off his pant legs. The knees were soiled from the wet pavement. “Look at my suit.”
Gibson lifted his chin to Gunner.
“Arrest Mr. Parker.” He pointed at the BMW. “Have his car towed in for forensics.”
“What the hell for?” Jackson sputtered. “I’ll have your badge for this.”
“Turn around,” Gunner said. He slapped on handcuffs and opened the back door of his patrol car. “Watch your head, Mr. Parker.”
“You’ll pay for this,” Jackson shouted.
Gunner closed the door firmly and slid into the driver’s seat.
“Catch you later,” Gibson said and patted the hood.
The constable accelerated up the driveway and disappeared into the woods. Paula struggled to breathe as she sobbed uncontrollably.
The front door opened again.
“You better get a lawyer for your husband.”
Lori turned back inside.
The inspector took out his cell phone and called for a uniformed officer.
“I have to arrest you,” Gibson said. He sat next to Paula. “I’m sorry about Ryder.”
“I know.” She lowered her head and closed her eyes. The tears flowed freely down her cheeks. She didn’t try to stop them. Maybe she would never recover from losing him. Perhaps she couldn’t.
He wasn’t sure what he could do for Paula, but he would try his best. What a bloody mess.
Chapter 36
Bright light washed across Gibson’s face. He opened one eye and looked over to the other side of the bed. Katherine was already gone. He sat up and stretched. His cell phone beeped on the other side of the room. The clock clicked over, showing him it was already after ten. How had he managed to sleep so long? He sprang out of bed and plucked up his cell. Six calls missed. All from Scottie.
Gibson stripped and headed straight for the shower. He leaned against the tiles and let the hot beads of water pummel his weary body. His body ached through and through. As he stood in front of the mirror, he examined his scruffy face. He shaved, and then reached into the medicine cabinet to find some pain pills. The bottle was missing. It was likely in Katherine’s nightstand. He unlocked the drawer and stopped dead. There was an envelope with his name scrawled on the top. He plucked it up and fingered it, thinking about what it could be.
“Katherine. Are you there?” Gibson yelled out. He went to the bedroom door and shouted down the hallway. “Katherine.”
Only eerie silence answered.
Gibson sat on the bed and opened the letter.
Dear William, by the time you read this I will be in the air somewhere over Alberta. Rather, you are so obsessed with your cases, especially this one, that I have probably landed in Ontario.
Katherine.
Gibson clasped his mouth in shock. He stayed there for several minutes trying to decide what to do. A cold fear gripped his heart. He ran to the kitchen, but Katherine wasn’t there. He headed out the back door and went into the greenhouse. Nothin
g. A wave of nausea made his head spin. He grabbed onto the counter loaded with trays of herbs. The heady scent of basil floated in the air. He sucked in his breath. He would miss this. Katherine’s space. Where could she be? Had she already left him?
He dashed back into the house and into the bedroom, checking the closet. Nothing was missing that he could tell. Gibson sat back on the bed, the letter still clutched in his hand. The fear had a firm hold of him now. Katherine put colour into his darkness. He had brought all of this upon himself with his actions. Saying sorry hadn’t been enough.
Gibson started at the creak of the back door. Then gurgling noises from the coffee maker floated down the hall. He bolted into the kitchen—Katherine stood there in her flawed perfection.
“Good morning, sleepy,” she said. A girlish grin appeared, and then faded when she saw the letter in his hand.
“Are you leaving me?”
“What? No. Never.” Katherine rushed over to him.
“But this...” Gibson waved the envelope.
“You weren’t supposed to see that. I was simply letting go of my demons. I should have pitched it away.” She stroked his cheek. “I’m sorry.”
Gibson’s cell rang.
“You better answer that. I’ll pour you a coffee.”
“Gibson.” He listened to Scottie for several minutes before hanging up.
Katherine looked at him from across the room. His lips were compressed into a frown.
“More bad news?” she asked.
“Maybe.” He paused. “I have to go.”
Katherine pushed a lock of hair behind her ear.
“We’ll be fine. I promise.” Gibson pulled her in tight and held onto her for what felt like an eternity. The heat of her body provided strength to him. He had been in a daze for most of the week, with lack of sleep and worry. Immediately he felt a semblance of ease. They moved apart. He kissed her on the cheek, inhaling the scent of her hair.
“You better get going.” Katherine laughed.
Gibson hurried to get ready. He grabbed his gun and badge, thinking maybe this would be his final case.
* * *
As he drove down the highway, his phone rang.
“Gibson.”
“I got a call from Jackson’s attorney. They’re not very happy,” Rex said.
“Well, they’re going to be even more unhappy when I finish with him,” he replied to the police chief.
“Is he under arrest?”
“Yes.”
“That’s too bad. I actually quite admire the guy. He does a lot for the community,” Rex said.
“I know. He made a grave mistake with this,” Gibson replied. He thought about Anatoe and the fundraiser and how all of this would affect him.
“Well, keep me posted…” Rex paused.
Gibson wasn’t confident the chief was still on the line. He strained to hear anything. Then Rex’s booming voice blasted him. He pulled the phone away from his ear.
“What about the murder down at the pier? Any progress there?”
“Yes. We have a suspect in custody. We’ll get the forensics quite soon and hopefully wrap that one up.”
“Excellent.” Rex hung up.
Gibson turned right at the light and headed down Beacon Avenue. A couple more turns took him to the station. He parked in the lot and rushed indoors. The regular desk sergeant was back on duty. Gibson surveyed a gentleman in a dark navy suit sitting on the hard bench. He jumped up when he observed the detective.
“I’m Jackson’s attorney. Lester Moore. Are you Gibson?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve spoken to Rex,” the attorney stated.
“Yes, I know.”
“Well. Are you going to release my client?”
“No. I’m afraid not,” Gibson said.
“What? You can’t keep him forever.”
“Right. We just got back the results from forensics. I intend to interview Mr. Parker later this morning, and then—”
“Time is running out.” The lawyer snapped and tapped at his Rolex. “He’s been in that deplorable cell for way too long. It’s an absolute outrage. I intend to put in a formal complaint against you. Against the whole station.”
“So be it.” Gibson walked away.
“Where the hell are you going now?” Lester asked.
“I have some urgent things to attend to first,” Gibson said. He moved around to the counter, hiding the smirk on his face.
“Bloody hell.” The lawyer stormed out of the building, his cell phone pressed to his ear.
“Oh my,” the desk sergeant said. “Scottie’s waiting. Watch out, though. She’s steaming mad at you.” He peeked at the clock on the wall behind him. “She’s been here for several hours.”
“Yeah, yeah. Everybody wants a piece.” Gibson rushed down the corridor. He swung open the door to the interview room.
Scottie sat slumped in her chair, earbuds attached to her phone. Gibson could hear the music clearly. How her ears must hum. She sat upright and ripped the cord away. “I’ve been trying to get to you all morning.”
“I know.” Gibson sat opposite. He propped his elbows on the table and placed his head in his hands. “Sorry. I’m here now.”
“So, a lot has gone on. I don’t know where to start.” Scottie crossed her arms. “The forensics on Kevin isn’t looking good for us. The partial print isn’t his. I’m just waiting on the DNA. Should be soon.” She frowned.
“Will the partial print identify anyone?” Gibson asked, doubting it would. It wasn’t clear enough to decipher.
“Jocko says probably not.”
“All right. So, we’re counting on the blood matching.”
“That’s right. The blood found on the knife has to be Kevin’s or we’re hooped. We have no witnesses.” Scottie glanced over to her partner. “Sorry about Ryder.”
“Yeah, me too.”
Scottie’s phone vibrated along the table. She grabbed it and peered at the screen. “Here it is.”
Gibson leaned in closer to hear what Jocko had to say.
“Scottie here.” She nodded several times quickly. Her mouth twitched as she gnawed on the inside of her cheek. “Really. That’s it.” She hung up and shook her head.
“Damn. If it’s not Kevin, then who? Was Jocko positive?”
“It’s not Kevin,” Scottie said tightly. She put her phone down and tapped on it. “Where do we go from here?”
“God damn it.” Gibson repeated. “Better get the paperwork done. Call his lawyer and get him out of here.” He was so mad, he wished he could charge Kevin with domestic abuse. But that train had left the station.
“Okay.” Scottie knew exactly what her boss was thinking. She had never seen him so incensed. His face had gone red.
“Hey, Scottie. How did Paula make out in court this morning?” Gibson needed to think about something else. He took a deep breath. If he could slug the guy and get away with it, he would. Better to concentrate on things that mattered.
“Your lawyer friend got her bail.”
“That’s a good start. Deb is a tiger. She has experience defending firearms charges. And she’s very successful at minimizing the charges.”
“Anatoe was there, too.”
“Oh.”
“He sat beside Paula for support. Held her hand.”
“He’s a great kid. Well, I guess he’s all grown up now. Anatoe will be a loyal friend for her.” Gibson grinned.
“Crown counsel has elected to proceed by summary conviction for pointing a firearm at someone. She could have been indicted for her actions, but they took the extenuating circumstances of her son’s death into account. And she has no priors.” Scottie gave him a small smile.
“That’s a good break. What about having possession of an illegal firearm?”
“The gun is actually registered in her name.”
“Wow!” People never failed to amaze Gibson. There was nothing more they could do for Paula, although he would be a character witnes
s for her if necessary. He supposed Anatoe would be, as well. Yes, Paula had some good friends to lean on. That made him feel a tiny bit better. “Well, that’s that, then.”
“The gun wasn’t loaded,” Scottie said.
“Oh. Jesus. I almost can’t blame Paula for doing what she did,” Gibson said. He left the rest unspoken. Losing a child. A part of him felt a little of her pain, just from what had happened with Katherine. He sighed heavily. Not at all the same, really. Unfathomable.
“I hear you.” Scottie nodded her head. She stared at Gibson and smiled.
“Jackson’s lawyer was waiting in the lobby when I got here.”
“We’ll have to tackle him next.” Her lips stretched out to form a straight line like she had a secret.
Gibson figured she had already taken a long hard look at the forensics. Guilty.
Chapter 37
Jackson’s lawyer wasn’t in the lobby. He hadn’t left a message with the desk sergeant either, so the detectives went out for something to eat. They walked down Beacon Avenue to a popular bistro. The lunch crowd had come and gone with a few stragglers left behind having a second cup of coffee. They seized the best table by the window. The waitress was a young university student who bounced over to them before they had even sat down. She wore a black outfit with a white apron tied in the back into a giant bow. Her braided hair reached almost to her waistline. She batted her lashes as she accepted their order, probably vying for a good tip to enhance her meagre student loan.
The espresso machine was loud enough to put all conversation on pause. Gibson inhaled the smell of fresh ground beans. Within minutes, the cute waitress served up two lattes with a rosette design in the milky froth. The detectives sat back and enjoyed the piping hot drink.
“The forensics team did a tremendous job yesterday,” Scottie said. “They found bits of glass on the road in front of Paula’s house.”
“From a headlight?”
Scottie raised an eyebrow and took another sip of her beverage.
“Did the pieces match up with the cracked lens on Jackson’s BMW?” Gibson asked.
STORM ROLL: a Canadian murder mystery series Page 49
