Lightning at 200 Durham Street

by Ron Finch

  Det. O’Neill said he’d return on Monday and hoped that they’d be able to start at 9 o’clock in the morning with a meeting at the office of the chief of police. At their Monday morning meeting, he wanted to make a list of the people they would interview and the questions they would ask. They’d start by interviewing the farmers living in the area. He said he understood that it would be a little difficult, because at this point in time nobody knew who owned the property, but he’d be back with a list of suggested interview questions. Aside from the local landowners, their list of interviewees would include Herbert and Emeline Derrigan, Joel Franklin and his parents, Jay Smith and his parents, and anybody else who had been involved in the business from the start. Sometimes, he explained, the slightest bit of information, no matter how irrelevant it seemed at the time, led to an idea or to another line of questioning that could be helpful.

  SHORTLY AFTER LUNCH, Cst. Herman called the chief of police from the registry office.

  “I have some news for you, Chief,” said Cst. Herman. “But don’t get too excited. One of the registry clerks has been searching the title of the land the bush is on. It hasn’t been easy to come up with the name of the property owner, but thanks to her help, we have it. The owner’s name is ‘Bushland Farm’.”

  “Thanks a lot, Cst. Herman,” said the chief, “but I’ll need a lot more help than that. Get back to work and call me when you have some real information.”

  “Your chief sounds kinda grumpy,” said the registry clerk.

  Cst. Herman, who was a shade pinker than he had been before the call, agreed.

  “I think you should head over to the municipal office, Cst. Herman,” said the registry clerk. “They send out the tax bills for Chaseford and the surrounding area from there. If you don’t get a name from the tax bill, you’ll at least have the address where the tax bill is sent. Just keep in mind that Bushland Farm could be a group of owners, or a family that just decided, on the advice of their accountant, to use the name for business purposes. It does seem somewhat mysterious, though, given that all the other farm property in that area is owned and registered to individual farmers. But this is a very big chunk of land. If you include the 200 acres across from the bush, it’s about 4000 acres, though some of the outlying edges of the bush belong to other farmers. You’ve already met Herbert and Emeline Derrigan, who own about 150 acres of that bush in addition to their farmland.”

  “That’s right,” said Cst. Herman. “This whole thing started when Jay Smith and Joel Franklin went to the Derrigan farm to use that big tree as a landmark for their class project.”

  With these remarks in his mind, Cst. Herman thanked the registry clerk for her help and headed to the municipal office.

  At the town office, Cst. Herman spoke to the municipal clerk in charge of tax notices and tax collection, whom he already knew.

  “Well, Stan,” he said, “you’ve been doing this job for a number of years. I think I remember coming here once with my parents when they paid their taxes.”

  “Yes, Peter, your parents were always good customers. They always paid, and paid on time.”

  “I got a tricky one for you, Stan,” said the constable. “I just came from the registry office. I’m trying to track down the owner of some bush land out near Goshawk. The land is in the name of a registered company called Bushland Farm. Unfortunately, we’re investigating what we think could be a crime and that doesn’t help us. We need to get a real name. I know you’ll have the address where you send the tax bill, but I wondered if, maybe in the course of years, you’d ever met anyone who’d come in to pay the bill? Or, since you know almost everybody in the area, I was wondering if you might know the name of the person or persons or family connected to Bushland Farms.”

  “It’s been a long time, Peter, since I’ve seen anybody with any connection to Bushland Farms,” said Stan. “I do recognize the name, though, and up until a few years ago Hugh Carter would come in and pay the tax bill for the property.”

  “I’ve never heard of Hugh Carter,” said Cst. Herman.

  “That’s likely because he was before your time, Peter,” said Stan, smiling. “At one time, he was a very important man in this area. A person most of us liked and respected. We even voted him to become a Member of Parliament.”

  “Oh, that Hugh Carter,” said the constable. “There’s a picture of him in the municipal building, not far from the police chief’s office. Do you know where he lives?”

  “He probably went to heaven,” said Stan. “He’s been dead at least 15 years. The entire family moved to the Ottawa area shortly after his death. I believe his wife, Ruth, is still alive, however. And he had two sons, Proctor and Amos, and a daughter, Louise. According to my wife, the daughter lives with her mother.”

  Cst. Herman was pleased with this information and was now looking forward to contacting the chief. He finally had some specific information they could use to further their investigation.

  When the chief received the good news from the constable, he said: “Good work, Peter. We’ll keep you on staff after all.”

  Cst. Herman wished he could be entirely certain the chief was kidding.

  “I’ll get a hold of the Ottawa police department right now,” said the chief, “and have them speak to Ruth Carter.”

  BY THE TIME CHIEF PETROVIC was able to speak to someone in authority at the Ottawa police department, it was 4:30 in the afternoon.

  The Chaseford chief of police was put through to the officer in charge of criminal investigations for the Ottawa region, Assistant Chief Dick Rutherford. Chief Petrovic explained to Assistant Chief Rutherford that a mysterious death had occurred on a property just outside of Chaseford. Almost a week had elapsed since the body had been discovered and as of yet they hadn’t been able to identify it. Part of the reason for the delay, he explained, was the difficulty they’d had determining the owner of the property that the body had been discovered on, a mystery that had been solved just earlier that morning with the help of the local registry office. The municipal tax officer, Chief Petrovic concluded, had determined that the property owner was the Hugh Carter family.

  “Is that the Hugh Carter who was a Member of Parliament?” said Assistant Chief Rutherford when the chief had finished.

  “Yes,” said Chief Petrovic.

  “He was well-respected here in Ottawa. I met him on a couple of official occasions and he was a knowledgeable man,” said Rutherford. “He wasn’t the least bit arrogant and had great respect for the public. He was always trying to do the right thing. I was sorry when he passed away. Parliament lost a valuable member.”

  “We’re falling behind in this investigation,” said Chief Petrovic, seeing his opening. “Would it be possible for you to contact Ruth Carter, Hughes wife? I believe she’s still alive and capable. It would be very helpful if a member of the family could come to Chaseford for an interview. They probably have information about the property and the cabin that would be helpful in the investigation.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” said Assistant Chief Rutherford. “If Mrs. Carter, or one of her family, is unable or unwilling to travel to Chaseford you may have to come to Ottawa to conduct your interview.”

  “Understood.”

  Chief Petrovic thanked him and their conversation ended.

  BECAUSE THIS WAS AN active investigation, and potentially a murder, when Assistant Chief Rutherford finished speaking with the Chaseford Chief of Police, he decided that he would pay Ruth Carter a visit himself.

  He had one of his staff find her phone number and address, and, though it was almost 5 o’clock on a Friday afternoon, because of the nature of the investigation, he decided to call anyway.

  A person by the name of Bella answered the phone. Rutherford asked Bella if he could speak to Mrs. Carter. She asked who was phoning and there was a brief delay; then Bella informed him that Mrs. Carter would be with him in a moment.

  When Mrs. Carter came on the line, Rutherford asked if it was possible fo
r him to visit her sometime on Saturday. She asked him why he wanted to visit and the assistant chief explained that it was about a property they owned in the Chaseford area. Mrs. Carter said she would be pleased to see him at 2:00 PM Saturday and gave him directions to her home.

  Saturday, May 26 - Ottawa

  WHEN ASSISTANT CHIEF Rutherford arrived at the Carter home he was greeted at the door by a woman in a nurse’s uniform. She introduced herself as Bella Frankel.

  “Chief Rutherford, I presume? Please come with me. Mrs. Carter will receive you in the living room.”

  Rutherford did not correct Bella, momentarily enjoying the promotion. A woman, who appeared to be about 80 years of age, was waiting for him in the living room. She was well dressed but seated in a wheelchair. The woman invited him to sit for a cup of tea and Bella left them alone.

  Mrs. Carter pointed to a seat across from her and Rutherford seated himself. A small table stood between them with two teacups, a teapot, and a tray of what smelled to be freshly-baked cookies on top.

  “I’m happy to have company today, but I’m a little shorthanded,” she said. “My daughter Louise usually plays the host. But Bella is extremely capable.”

  “Thank you for allowing me to visit you on a Saturday,” said Rutherford. “I’m sorry you’re shorthanded, but I have to say these cookies look and smell wonderful.”

  Mrs. Carter explained that her daughter Louise lived with her, and that, while they had some outside help from time to time, with Bella’s help, they managed quite well. She mentioned also that Bella, her nurse, now lived with them too. Bella had been hired about a year ago, after Mrs. Carter had had her stroke. She went on to say that her daughter Louise had gone back to visit her old stomping grounds in Chaseford.

  “Louise hasn’t returned yet,” Mrs. Carter continued. “She left for Chaseford a week ago today. She said she wanted to catch up with a couple of old friends. She did mention that she was going to visit the cabin in the bush. Our children used to love that cabin.”

  Assistant Chief Rutherford was amazed by what he’d just heard. Maintaining his composure, he said: “How old is Louise?”

  “She’ll be 55 on her birthday,” said Mrs. Carter. “On July 18th. I do worry about her when she goes away on her trips. She’s a single woman. But she usually contacts me by phone to tell me the latest. I don’t know what happened this time.” Mrs. Carter looked troubled. “She’s always been good to me, but I don’t see much of the boys. Proctor and Amos are pretty wrapped up in their businesses.”

  “Do they ever go back to Chaseford to visit?” he asked.

  “Good heavens, no,” exclaimed Mrs. Carter. “They’ve made it clear they have no interest in that town. They’ve been relatively successful and can’t imagine why Louise still has any connection to it.”

  After these revelations, Assistant Chief Rutherford wasn’t sure how to proceed. He had some difficult questions for Mrs. Carter.

  Sitting quietly across from him for a moment, Mrs. Carter finally looked up and said: “Why are you here, Assistant Chief Rutherford?”

  It was an opening which he pursued carefully.

  “I was contacted by the chief of police of Chaseford yesterday,” he said. “He called me because he’s investigating a crime that happened in the bush on the land that you own near Goshawk.”

  Mrs. Carter looked away. “What kind of crime?” she said.

  “A body was found in a cabin.”

  Mrs. Carter started to weep.

  “The chief, Bob Petrovic, hasn’t been able to identify the body yet. It’s an isolated place. It was only yesterday that the chief was able to determine that the bush belonged to your family. He asked me to contact you.”

  Mrs. Carter dried her eyes. Though she was extremely pale her voice was steady. “Was it a woman?” she said.

  “Yes, a woman in her 50s,” Rutherford said gently.

  Once again Mrs. Carter broke down. After a minute or two, when she’d somewhat recovered, Rutherford continued.

  “We need to identify the body,” he said. “Until that time, we can’t perform an autopsy. We need the permission of the next of kin. Would you, or a member of your family, be able to come to Chaseford on Monday?”

  “At this time, I’m not sure I’m well enough to travel,” Mrs. Carter said bleakly. “And Louise’s brothers aren’t always easy to contact. They don’t always get along with me and Louise. I do have a suggestion for you, though: when Louise left for Chaseford she told me she was going to meet up with some of her childhood friends. Her best friend is Alice Chalmers. They’ve visited back and forth since they were teenagers. Louise told me she was going out to dinner with Alice on Saturday. Alice knows Louise very well. Does Alice serve as a person able to identify her body?”

  “I think, under the circumstances,” said Assistant Chief Rutherford, “Alice would be a suitable choice. I’ll contact Chief Petrovic later today and pass on Alice’s name.” He hesitated. “I’m very sorry to have brought you this news, Ruth. We won’t know for certain whether or not your daughter is the victim until the body has been identified. You’ll be contacted immediately after the identification, whether or not it is Louise. If it is Louise, I’d like to be able to tell Chief Petrovic that you’ve agreed to an autopsy.”

  Mrs. Carter rang a small bell and Nurse Bella came into the room.

  “I most certainly will approve,” said Mrs. Carter, now very pale, with Nurse Bella, at her side. “I know this hasn’t been easy for you, either, Mr. Rutherford. I appreciate the visit, and the care you took in the way you notified me of the situation. Now, if you don’t mind, I think I will retire for a while. Bella, please show Assistant Chief Rutherford out. Then you can help me to my room.”

  Rutherford thanked Mrs. Carter once more for her graciousness in meeting him on a Saturday then followed Bella to the door.

  On Friday, Chief Petrovic had told Rutherford that he needed the latest information for his meeting first thing Monday morning, so that they could plan the next step of the investigation, so he had given Rutherford his home number and requested to be informed as soon as possible after the interview. So as soon as Assistant Chief Rutherford returned to his office, he placed a call to Chief Petrovic’s home in Chaseford. Chief Petrovic was very surprised by what he had to say.

  Sunday, May 27 and Monday, May 28

  CHIEF PETROVIC HAD been restless all day Sunday.

  On Sundays, he usually slept in until 8 o’clock, but this Sunday morning he was up by six. The family always went to church together; Sunday school started at 10:00 AM and ran until about 10:45; the church service started at 11:00. His wife taught Sunday school, so she liked to be at the church by 9:30. The Petrovics’ church was well attended. The minister was an excellent speaker and most people looked forward to hearing his Sunday sermon. The Petrovics knew this wasn’t the case in all the local churches. They had friends of a different denomination that had hinted that the sermon was the one part of their service they could always count on to help them catch up on their sleep.

  Bob Petrovic liked to spend Sunday afternoons with his children whenever possible. Their favourite activity was fishing in a local creek. Evidently, however, Mother Nature had decided that this Sunday would be a good time to catch up with her rain quota. The early spring had been drier than usual and the rain was welcome, but it was steady enough that it put a crimp in the Petrovic family’s plans. This Sunday, their entertainment would be a 500 piece jigsaw puzzle.

  It was a beautiful piece of scenery, Bob thought to himself as studied the box. It showed a farmhouse on the edge of a bush. In Bob’s opinion, it looked a lot like Herbert and Emeline Derrigan’s place.

  Bob knew that this thought had crept into his mind because he couldn’t stop thinking about the suspicious death at the cabin. He tried to push it out of his thoughts, at least temporarily, and as they sorted and matched up the pieces, the jigsaw puzzle did help to calm him a bit. But this hard-won tranquility was fleeting. Already, this pe
aceful family activity was being interrupted by a squabble between his two daughters over who would do the edge pieces. Mother stepped in and decreed that each daughter would get to do one half of the edge pieces. There was to be no hoarding or hiding of edge pieces by anyone, including Dad. Order was restored, and a period of peace ensued.

  Bob had calmed down even more by suppertime. But to anyone who knew him, especially his family, it was obvious that something was on his mind. After supper, he and his wife went to the front room, or parlour, as she liked to call it, and turned on their new radio. They had purchased the radio earlier that year. As far as Bob’s wife was concerned it wasn’t easy to listen to. “Too much static,” she said. But it was new and kind of exciting and Bob was proud to own it. Not many people in Chaseford had radios, but you could now buy them locally and they seemed to be the up-and-coming thing. NBC had been set up in the USA two years before and that evening the four of them gathered around to listen to a broadcast from a Detroit station. They heard the A&P Gypsies and then the Voice of Firestone. Then the girls were sent off to bed.

  When the two of them were alone, his wife said: “What are you worried about, Bob?”

  “I know tomorrow’s going to be a very busy day,” Bob replied with a sigh. “I just want to make certain I have everything organized in my mind before the start of the day.”

  “It’s about that body that was found at that cabin in the bush, isn’t it?” she said.

  Bob didn’t want to upset his wife with this business, especially since it could involve murder. “I don’t want to discuss it,” he said. “I can’t discuss it with you, even if I wanted to. Let’s talk about something else.”

  Bob’s wife had had many conversations of this nature with him before and she knew that when he was wound up like this there wasn’t much she could do. It was time to talk about something else. So they did.