Murderous Roots

by Virginia Winters

  On the way back to Culver's Mills, he called the jail to speak to Howarth. Adam reassured him that Karen and his son were well and going to be together. He got mumbled thanks and a few words in Russian as a reply.

  When Adam got back to the office, he found a message on his desk that Anne called to say goodbye, and that she planned to leave Wednesday morning and did he want to have dinner with her before she went. What he wanted was for her to stay. It was 5:00pm, so he signed out and headed home to change.

  Anne made tentative reservations at Evan's. He arranged to pick her up at 7:00pm, fed Sam and called Erin. If he wasn't too late, he wanted to tell her about the arrest before she heard details around town or on the news.

  When Anne and Adam walked into the restaurant, he showed her the carpet balls in the large bowl in the foyer. He took a minute to look at each one, but none of them had the pattern that Erin had described. They sat at a table in one of the slight alcoves formed by the bow windows at the front of the house.

  "Would you like a Bloody Caesar, Anne?"

  "Yes, thanks. But where did you learn to drink Bloody Caesars?"

  "On a case in Montreal. We're close enough to the border and get enough Canadian tourists that all the bars here carry the ingredients and Canadian rye whisky."

  "Were you there when the FBI arrested Howarth?"

  "Yes."

  He described the scene at the Howarth home to her as they waited for their drinks.

  "I gave him a good hit for you, Anne."

  "I can't say I'm sorry. He gave me some very bad moments."

  "Do you have to go back tomorrow?"

  "I've no reason to stay. I've finished all my research and found Margaret. Why do you ask?"

  "I still need your help. The Russian killed Davis and Lauder and made the attacks on you, but there is no way he killed Jennifer. He has no reason to admit to the others and stonewall on this one. So I am short one killer and need to look at the other blackmail victims. Can you stay at least one more day and help Brad? The department could pay to put you up at Catherine's or any other place you wanted."

  "I can stay, and won't say no to the bills being paid, but we've gone over most of those files, and Pete eliminated almost all of them by distance, where they were the night of the murder and so on."

  "The only clues I have left are ones I can't find. The carpet ball, a housekeeper of the Culvers I haven't been able to talk to yet, and some anonymous victim in those files. Please stay."

  "How can I say no? Will you let me have dinner now?"

  After dinner, Adam drove Anne home and called on Erin on the way back. The lights in the shop were brighter at the back where she hunched over her computer.

  "Come in. Did you have a nice dinner?"

  "Excellent."

  By now he was curious every time he came into the shop to see what the furniture arrangement was. Tonight's looked like the deck of a ship in the 1930's, with two deck chairs in fine old wood with worn plaid blankets adding a touch of color. The light of a tall lamp directed upwards reflected off the tin ceiling.

  "What is that lamp called?”

  "That's a torchiere. The chairs are from the Queen Elizabeth. I'm going to call the couple from Toronto about them. They told me they have a cottage at some place called Stoney Lake. From what they described these would be perfect for them."

  "Very comfortable," commented Adam as he settled into one of them.

  "Coffee?" Erin asked.

  "Yes, thanks."

  Adam described the scene at Howarth's arrest. He didn't want to frighten her, but he wanted her to know what his life was like. Concern and horror grew on her face as he told her about clubbing Howarth.

  She shuddered.

  "At least you didn't have to kill him. Is Pete okay?"

  "Yes, he's fine. Pete takes this all in a day's work. I didn't want you to hear this on the news."

  "You think that your work frightens me and horrifies me. It does frighten me. Of course, it does. Even in this small town, any day could bring life-threatening danger to you. But I am horrified, not by your work but at the—is evil too strong a word—that is all around you. I am appalled that Jennifer was an acquaintance, someone I saw almost every day, and never suspected she brought so much anguish into the lives of so many others. What did that man say, even a grandmother? How could she be so horrible?"

  Adam reached across and took her hand. "I'm glad that bothers you and not my work in trying to stop it."

  "Oh, no."

  After a few more minutes of conversation, Adam got up to leave.

  "By the way, Erin, you know the housekeeper at the Culvers, I think you said?"

  "Just a little."

  "What's her first name?"

  "Beatrice."

  Beatrice, he thought as he drove home. Where was Beatrice?

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Rain again. Adam pulled on his gear to go running at 6am. He wanted to be at work early to finish his report for Captain Naismith and to set Brad working on the files. Not a happy thought. Brad and Pete would assume the case was done.

  But what Mrs. Ames wanted to tell him? When he got to the office, he would call and make an appointment with her.

  He finished up his run and arrived at the office at 7:30. Brad came in at 8:00am

  "Morning, Lieutenant."

  "Morning. Come in and sit down."

  Adam went over the events of Monday with him, including the news that they were short one murderer.

  "Damn it. Is Maunder sure that the Russian's alibi is solid for the time of the murder?"

  "Absolutely sure. He was tied up with a bunch of local politicians 'til way past the time she died. He has diplomatic immunity, too."

  "What the fuck."

  Brad knew that Adam didn't like swearing on the job, but this was more than Brad could believe.

  "So the Russian Embassy says. Maunder did his best, but the guy's on a plane for Moscow this morning. He confessed to Davis and Lauder."

  "Now what?"

  "Back to the files. I asked Anne to come in and help again. She planned to go home, but she agreed to stay. I want you to check again in case we missed someone who could have been in town the night of the murder. Find Morrison and call the hospital about the wife."

  As he finished giving Brad instructions Anne arrived, under her own steam this time, feeling a little safer with Howarth behind bars, she said.

  After the morning ritual of coffee and small talk, he asked her to look for information on Beatrice Ames.

  Mrs. Ames didn't answer the door at the Culver home. Adam sent the maid in search of Mrs. Culver or David Culver. He expected they might still be at breakfast and the maid showed him to the dining room. Naomi Culver sat at an oval dining table with a coffee pot and cups in front of her. Her son sat to her right.

  "Do sit down, Mr. Davidson. Would you like some coffee?"

  Apparently, she decided to be the gracious lady today. The last time he'd been here, she couldn't wait to see his back.

  "Yes, thanks."

  "I understand that you have the man in custody who committed these awful crimes."

  That explained it. She thought the pressure was off her and her family.

  "Yes, we arrested the man who killed the lawyer Stan Davis, and another man called Dave Lauder, but we don't think he killed Jennifer."

  "Why on earth not?"

  "I'm not at liberty to say, ma'am. I came here today to talk to Mrs. Ames. She left a message last week that she wanted to talk to me."

  "Mrs. Ames is not here. She's on holiday for a week. I don't know where. Do you, David?” she asked.

  "No," he said. "I don't discuss the housekeeper's personal plans with her. Why does she want to talk to you?"

  "Perhaps she has information she thinks will help."

  "You mean you're back to me as a suspect."

  The china on the table jumped as his fist came down. "I did not kill that woman!'

  "So you said, and we accept
ed it," Adam said. "I don't have any reason to think that she wants to talk about you. Mrs. Ames did have a private life outside this house. Would you have any idea where her mother lives?"

  "None. We have an employment record. It might give an address. We also have references from where Mrs. Ames worked last. She worked here for about eight months."

  "Could I have it and check her room? By the way, who drove her to town when she left? Did she say where she was going?"

  Mrs. Culver answered, "She drove herself in her own car. I suppose we can let you look at her room, but we couldn't let you take anything."

  "What kind of car?"

  "An old Ford Taurus, grey," David said.

  Adam stood up, and David led him towards the back of the house.

  "She always locks her door," he said. "We insist on it so that there are no accusations of thefts."

  The door, however, was not locked. Mrs. Ames's two small rooms, a sitting room and a bedroom, were empty of personal belongings, including the closets.

  "I think you are going to need a new housekeeper," Adam said. "Did anyone see her leave?"

  "We'll ask. All she told mother was that she was going to take a short vacation. Mother doesn't ask any questions because she thinks the staff are entitled to a private life."

  Mrs. Culver found the employment record and the references. She called the maid, the gardener/chauffeur and the cook. No one saw Mrs. Ames leave and they weren't friendly.

  "She was always going to the library on her day off," the maid said.

  Adam thanked the Culvers and left. From his car, he tried to call Brad, but he was still out checking on the Morrisons.

  Patient Inquiry at the hospital told Brad that Mrs. Morrison remained in the Intensive Care Unit. She lay in the first bed of the six-bed unit. Her chest rose and fell slowly in synchrony with the soft sounds of the ventilator. No chance of any interview today. The nurse at the desk said that her husband called but that he hadn't come in.

  "Did you tell him we were involved?"

  “Yes. Weren't we supposed to? All I said was that the police found her."

  "Next time, don't volunteer."

  “You might have mentioned that you didn't want anything told to the family. We don't keep anything from them, and he did ask."

  "Ask what?"

  "Who found her.”

  Brad called in and left a message for Adam that he was going out to talk to Morrison's brother.

  The ancient glass in the door of the store was so bubbled and wavy that Brad couldn't really see in. Maybe Morrison couldn't see out, he thought.

  The bell over the door tinkled as he went through. No customers, no canned music and no lights even though the store was open. Brad called out.

  "Ted, it's Brad Compton, Culver's Mills Police. I need to talk to you."

  Silence. Goods packed the store: racks of clothes, shelves full of garden gnomes and such, a few books, and hats with the name of the village on them. There were only two ways out, and one of them was behind Brad. Past the racks and close to the change rooms, a door opened to the rear. Brad walked through towards the back door.

  "No," someone shouted.

  Pain exploded in Brad's head.

  On the way back from his interview with the Culvers, Adam stopped for take-out at the Tim Horton's, remembering that Anne liked French vanilla cappuccino. He got regular for himself, and a pack of Tim Bits. Tim Horton's was his favorite Canadian export, that and Bloody Caesars.

  The information at the office was good and bad. They found Mrs. Ames' social security records, but the address was a box number in Burlington. Anne, however, found a B.A. listed in Jennifer's files. the initials IN followed. Jennifer wrote a ship's name next to the listing, but Anne hadn't found it yet.

  Adam paced between his office and the squad room- waiting. The phone rang.

  "Lieutenant Davidson, this is the ambulance service. An officer's down, in Pine Grove. Meet the ambulance at the emergency room, please."

  Only Brad was out. Pine Grove meant the Morrisons. They'd no reason to think that the brother was involved in any of this. Why had he let him go without backup? Adam beat himself up with remorse the rest of the way to the hospital. He parked beside the ambulance bay and heard the stomach-knotting sounds of the ambulance siren as he ran towards the bay door. As they swung open the doors to the ambulance box he hung on the door with relief as Brad grinned at him from the stretcher, pale but alive and alert.

  "I'm okay, boss. I was only out for a few minutes. I could hear the 911 operator calling from the phone. She said the call came through about five minutes before I woke up."

  "Who was there?"

  "I don't know. No one was there when I came to."

  The door closed behind the stretcher.

  Adam waited in the corridor that separated the nursing station from the trauma room. When they were busy, you couldn't find a nurse. They would be spread out in the department's different areas. Three separate groups stood talking. Two doctors mumbled into telephones, dictating he thought. A tall redheaded nurse caught his eye and walked over to him.

  "Hi, Adam. Is it one of your men that the guys brought in?"

  Adam had known Cassidy Waite for all the years he worked in the Culver's police. She arrived in town, a single mom, with two kids, the year he started. She worked her way up from casual shifts at the hospital to be in charge most days in the emergency room. Adam knew her in the way police know the emergency room nurses: Saturday nights bringing in drunks and the overdosed, gunshot wounds or a sometimes a tragic motor vehicle accident or drowning. Cassidy was steady, and Adam was always happy when she was on duty.

  "Yes, Brad Compton. You know him?"

  "Sure. Big guy, young with a broken nose. Right?"

  "That's him. Can you find out if he's okay? I need to talk to him."

  She was back in a few minutes, assuring him the Brad was fine. They sent him for a CAT scan to be sure, but the doctor didn't think there was any real problem. He could go with him to the procedure if he wanted.

  The CAT scan was in the basement of the hospital, an add-on after the original construction. Because it was underground, the staff hung paintings on the wall of landscapes and flowers and decorated the desk and corners with artificial flowers. Three chairs and Adam filled the tiny waiting room. The nurse wheeled Brad's stretcher expertly into the CAT scan room.

  While the technician prepared Brad for the scan, Adam got the story of his trip to Pine Grove again.

  "So any idea who hit you?” he asked when Brad got to the part about the pain in his head.

  "None. When I woke up, I could hear the 911 operator yelling down the phone. I guess whoever called her left the line open. She said it was only five minutes from the call 'til I was talking to her. Ouch."

  "Sorry, Brad. I didn't want to interrupt your story," she said as she hung the bag of IV fluid. "Now I'm going to inject some contrast. You've never had a reaction during as x-ray, have you?"

  "No."

  "This one gives you a very warm sensation that starts at your head and goes to your toes and is gone. It doesn't hurt, but some people feel it as hotter than other people do," she explained as she wheeled him over and into the machine.

  Brad's head slid in to the opening, held in place by some small sandbags.

  "Whoa, that is warm.”

  "Relax."

  "I'll try," Brad said, preparing to daydream a little.

  "Okay, we're done."

  "Already? When can I go?"

  "Take it easy, Brad. The doctor wants to check the images before you can leave.”

  Twenty minutes later Adam was back in the office, leaving Brad at his mother's home to sleep off his headache.

  Anne couldn't go any further without Brad to help her, so Adam suggested she go back to Catherine's. It was well past time for lunch.

  The Morrison brothers occupied his mind. He remembered that they grew up over in Pine Grove with a father who was been a small-time contractor an
d handyman. The older one went to the local high school a few years ahead of Adam, but he hadn't been around for years after that. Ted, the younger one, took over the small store that his mother kept. It had been the beer and chips store for kids spending a night at the lake when Adam was young. From Brad's description, it carried a bit more now but hadn't changed much otherwise.

  Adam poured himself a coffee and put his feet up on his desk. He hadn't heard of any scams involving Jake Morrison, or Ted. Joe Brearley, a local real estate agent of the old style, mostly working out of the front seat of his car, and at the local diner. He rented a nominal office in a tiny strip mall. Chances of finding him there were nil, Adam thought. He called to Angie, the clerk who tried to keep the paperwork on track, for the phone number of the agent's office. The machine was on when he called. Maybe the diner.

  Peg worked at the till, doing bills or receipts or something when he came in about 3:00pm, a downtime until the school kids arrived after 4:00pm.

  "Hey, Adam. What brings you here this time of day?”

  "I'm looking for Joe Brearley. Does he have a regular time in here?"

  Peg laughed. "Does he ever. Twice. Before he heads off to the office to pick up the paperwork for whatever deals he had going about 8:45am. Has a coffee, reads the paper and takes a cup for the road. I don't know where he eats lunch. Next time I see him is about 3:10pm if he doesn't have a client to ferry around.

  "So any time now?" Adam asked.

  "With any luck."

  "Then I'll have a piece of your apple pie and a glass of milk."

  Adam finished his pie and swallowed the last of his milk when the door opened, and Joe came in with a cheerful greeting for Peg and a nod to Adam. Brearley was a compact man, short and square, with thinning blond hair and odd colored eyes, one blue, one brown. A large head on the small body gave him a gnomish look. When he settled at a table with his coffee, Adam went over.

  "Could I have a word with you, Joe. Adam Davidson, Culver's police," he said as he sat down.