The Sandcastle Murders

by K. E. Warner

  It took a few seconds for his question to register, but when it did, the corners of her mouth turned up just enough for him to see the start of a smile. “Yes, okay. Meet you there?”

  He grinned back at her. “Great. Looking forward to it. See you at 8:00?”

  “Perfect. And Raheem? That game of pool – you’re going down, my friend.”

  He laughed, and waved out the window as he drove away.

  Chapter thirteen

  Magda stood at the door, scouring the crowded pub for Raheem. The warmth of rich cherrywood walls and dim lighting created a comforting intimacy. Magda scanned the room, her eyes resting for a moment on the dark, quiet corners, then roaming over the lengths of booths built into the walls. Certain Raheem was not there, she walked to the bar, listening to the din of excited chatter as a local band set up and tables filled.

  Two bartenders ruled the thirty-foot wood bar, supervising conversations while they dispensed drinks from over one hundred unique bottles of liquor displayed in front of a mirror backdrop. Magda felt her purse buzz on her hip. She pulled her phone from the purse pocket to see the text.

  Sorry rough day am late c u 5 mins

  Raheem was never late. Whatever kept him must be important. She moved near the end of the bar and stood on her toes to position herself on a barstool. Tall stools meant she struggled to reach the seat. Once seated, she hooked her heels over the support joining the legs and picked up a menu. Her stomach growled, and she hoped Raheem was hungry. She’d order a beer for herself and something to share for when he arrived.

  The Tuesday special was tacos: lingcod, pulled pork, spicy beef, vegetarian, or Texas spiced chicken. All good, but too messy for tonight. Maybe the Piggy Poutine - Canadian back bacon, pulled pork, double smoked bacon, cheese curds, and gravy, over hand-cut fries. Still messy, but easier to eat with a fork.

  “An order of the house poutine and an Arrowsmith IPA please,” she called to the bartender as a somewhat familiar burly figure appeared behind her in the bar mirror.

  Chris Ducharme slapped down a fifty and boomed, “And it's on me.” The bartender nodded back at him.

  Magda grabbed the money and flattened it against his chest, holding it there, intending for him to take it if for no other reason than to rid himself of the attached hand. “No, thank you very much. I’m capable of buying my own food and liquor.”

  “Ah, but I believe I owe you. And you’re intriguing, and I want to get to know you.” His grin mesmerized her now as it had earlier.

  “You don’t owe me, and I have someone coming to meet me.” Her hand remained glued to his chest and his heart thumped below her palm. “Okay, take it or the money drops to the floor.”

  He didn’t move, and they watched the graceful flutters of the bill floating to the wood planks. He bent, snatching it from the floor as she admired the ripple of his back muscles against his t-shirt.

  “Well, I wouldn’t have picked you for the wasteful type, but that’s why I look forward to getting to know you.”

  “So, what do you do for a living that allows you to offer to support a penniless reporter’s sustenance?” She cocked her head, glanced at his dive watch, and studied his face.

  “Me? I’m a fisherman.”

  “Oh?” That might explain the dive watch – somewhat. “What kind of fisherman? I mean there are a lot of types of fishermen, aren’t there?”

  “Oh darlin’,” a deep laugh rolled from his chest. “I’m a have-boat-will-travel kind of fisherman. Wherever the wind blows, that’s where I head. At this moment, it’s here.”

  The bartender set down Magda’s beer and someone cleared their throat over Magda’s shoulder. She turned to see Raheem’s eyes bulge above a clenched jaw.

  “Oh, Raheem, hi. Didn’t see you come in. Have you met Chris Ducharme? Henri Ducharme’s son. He’s staying with Henri for a while.”

  Raheem thrust a hand at Chris, and Magda watched their grip. The two men locked eyes, lions in the savannah. Their grip became a bloodless mass of fist and Magda wondered if she’d have to separate the men and send them to their corners.

  “We met. Briefly. How long are you staying, Chris?”

  Raheem didn’t elaborate on their original meeting, and Chris seemed fine with that. “Not long. Just here for a few days. I’m helping a friend.”

  Magda narrowed her eyes at him, “Oh, I thought you’d be helping your dad. Since you’re sharing his home and all.”

  “Nope, that’s just a fortunate coincidence - that dad lives here. Besides, he’s not so bad. And he’s got friends here to check-up on him. You know, you were there today.”

  Raheem’s eyebrows raised, his voice a growl. “Today? Oh, okay, now I see.” His left eye twitched, and he grabbed Magda’s hand. “Excuse us, Chris, we’re on a date.” He leaned over the bar and yelled down to the bartender, “Mike, if she ordered anything else, we’re at the high top in the corner.” He picked up Magda’s beer, sloshing some on Chris, and pulled her through the crowd to the high-top table in the quieter back corner.

  Magda’s face coloured. “That was rude, Raheem.”

  “Magda, he’s a creep. He’s nothing but trouble. And I don’t think it’s a coincidence he’s here, given his track record.”

  “What? You can’t look at a twenty-year-old record of someone who was a troubled adolescent and guarantee he’s the same now. That’s, I don’t know, some kind of -ism, or profiling, or something.”

  “Really? Well, if you wore my boots for a few days you’d have a fresh perspective on that. I’m in the middle of something important. It’s horrible and it affects this community, and I don’t believe it’s a coincidence that Chris is here. So, there you go. We aren’t discussing it, and you need to avoid that guy like the plague.”

  “Listen, I’m not a child. I was fourteen the last time someone tried to tell me who to associate with. Don’t start telling me now.”

  Magda gritted her teeth, turning her face away from Raheem, but found she was just as irritated by the new view. Chris was moving to a nearby table. She rose, slamming her palms on the table.

  She chose a direct path to the exit. As she stormed past Chris, smirking, Raheem called her name.

  She let the bar door slam behind her

  Chapter fourteen

  Raheem pulled into the detachment, parked, and leaned back with a sigh. Resting his head on the headrest, his eyes closed for a moment’s reprieve from the light. A poor night’s sleep had embedded a frown on his face. He spent the night wrestling with conflicting priorities; a desire to take Magda into his confidence, and his oath as a peace-keeper. Secrecy was part of the job, but trusting Magda part of his life.

  He picked up a coffee and two sugars on the way to his desk and waved at Sergeant Webb slurping from a mug as he passed the man’s office.

  “Hang on Khan.” Raheem’s boss extended a fistful of paper as he rose from behind the desk. “Interesting docs on an oxy drop for you to read.”

  Raheem rolled his eyes, too tired to stop himself from doing it in front of his superior.

  Webb’s eyebrows knitted together to form one furry brown caterpillar. “Not interested? I can pass this on to Donner, or Lee, if it's too much trouble.”

  Raheem shook his head. “No, my apologies Sarge. Rough night. I’ll get over it, with the help of this.” He raised the steaming mug at the glaring sergeant.

  “Good. There’s a drug enforcement team coming over from the mainland today. They’ve identified Stey Cove as a potential opioid drop. I’m sure they want to see enthusiasm from our team.”

  Raheem controlled the impulse to roll his eyes a second time. Any special forces team meant he’d be little more than a conveyor of information – a communications lackey. But expecting a shipment of opioids in the unsuspecting town of Stey Cove horrified him. No one would welcome the news, even if the smugglers intended the town to be a mere drop zone. He squared his jaw, gritting his teeth. He’d need to get over his frustration and work with the mainlan
ders to make sure Stey Cove wasn’t an easy mark.

  “I’m on it Sarge,” Raheem responded with enthusiasm as he took the paperwork.

  Back in his office, he dumped two packets of sugar into the coffee and slumped in his chair. It was how Magda took her coffee, and reminded him of other similarities the two shared. Both were intelligent, driven, passionate, and only children. Those factors alone guaranteed tension between them. Each needed to lead, to succeed, to compete, and each enjoyed winning.

  He wasn’t sure how he’d recover from their two most recent dates. He intended last night’s date at the Buck to make amends for the damage done on their anniversary date. Elbows propped on his desk, he leaned over the report the sergeant provided and focused on his job.

  Forty-five minutes later the rat-a-tat-tat knock at his door broke his concentration. Raheem’s face was white as he met Webb’s gaze.

  The sergeant folded his arms on his chest and leaned back against the door. “Serious, right?”

  “Well, we’ve been fighting opioids since before the government declared a crisis, but it’s worse than I thought. I just finished the stats on fentanyl.”

  “Yeah. It’s a cheap alternative to heroin, and it’s possible to lace it into any form of illegal drugs. What a nightmare. If it can make a drug more addictive, it means more addicts. And more money for dealers. The cycle thrives. It’s a powerful motivation to smuggle the stuff into any country.”

  “Well, as long as people have pain, and access to something to ease it, smugglers have buyers.” Raheem ran his fingers through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s already tough to smuggle through the coastline reconnaissance. We’ll make it tougher.”

  The sergeant gave him the thumbs up. “Finish reading. And drink more coffee. You look rough.”

  The last pages of the report brought the horror of the problem home. Undercover agents identified Stey Cove as an interim destination for one of the largest shipments of fentanyl in the country’s history.

  Raheem considered the impact on Stey Cove. Opioid addiction is a non-discriminatory disease. No one’s immune. The potential to become addicted is as simple as being prescribed pain meds for a toothache, or pulled muscles, or an accident.

  His mind jumped to thoughts of Alice Connor’s car accident. He wondered again how she drove in front of another vehicle and directly into a light standard. It was almost time for her release from the hospital, and he needed her statement. He still had time to interview her before meeting the mainland team. Exiting the building, thoughts of the special task force rolled through his mind, and his shoulders slouched. No one looked forward to interference from another team of pros.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Dave grunted as he heaved the wheelchair from the trunk of the rental car. He unfolded it, staring at the back of Alice’s head, motionless in the vehicle. As he approached the passenger door with the chair, she turned to look at him, a Mona Lisa vision of undecipherable expression. She clutched a bottle of prescription painkillers as if she possessed the Holy Grail.

  Dave opened the door and inched his hand and arm under her legs and lifted. His movement cautious, he turned from the car to place her in the wheelchair. Her dead weight in his arms caused him to misjudge his strength and he dropped her the last few inches.

  “S’okay.” The grin on her face emphasized the effect of the pills she choked down before they left the pharmacy parking lot. “Doesn’t hurt.”

  His eyes teared. “The painkillers must be working.”

  Moments later, she sat surrounded by pillows on the bed when the doorbell chimed. Dave jumped from the chair beside her.

  “I’ll get it.” He meant it as a joke, something to break the tension, but she sank deeper into the pillows without a smile.

  “Officer Khan.” Dave expected the officer would want to speak with Alice, just not so soon. “Please come in. I just settled Alice, but she’s not asleep yet. Don’t worry about your boots.” Dave motioned for Raheem to follow him into the bedroom.

  Raheem frowned at her shrinking form and pulled out his notepad. “Hello, Mrs. Connor. I hope you’re feeling better today.”

  Alice’s eyelids dragged open. “Yes. Better.” Her lop-sided smile a barometer of just how fine she felt.

  “I need to take your statement, if I could. Are you able to tell me what happened yesterday?”

  Alice began her story, mumbling and drifting off a few times. The lines on Raheem’s forehead deepened each time she spoke until finally Dave interjected, “Maybe after a rest she’ll be able to talk.”

  Raheem nodded. “Mrs. Connor, I can see you’re struggling here. I’ll come back later today, when you’re rested.”

  Dave led him out of the room and into the kitchen. “I’m sorry, Officer. She took her medication a short time ago. She’ll make more sense once it wears off.”

  “Maybe you can answer some of my questions, Mr. Connor. Mrs. Connor was at Belcher Motors when she entered the highway. Witnesses saw her vehicle moving erratically through the parking lot. It appeared to speed up without stopping before she entered the street.”

  Dave paled. Thanks to the Stey Cove Sentinel, people of Stey Cove knew Belcher Motors had been the focus of some noteworthy investigations over the years. Most involved Dan Belcher, the owner’s son. Many in Stey Cove believed Dan currently made a living by chopping stolen vehicles and shipping them overseas through Vancouver.

  Dave frowned and his voice burbled up in his throat. “She told me she went to see Brian Belcher – that he had something for her. But he wasn’t there. She only spoke to Brian’s wife.”

  Dave scratched his head as he thought of what he knew of Brian Belcher. Brian was a popular town councilman and the primary owner of Belcher Motors. He specialized in exotic vehicles and found a growing market in Stey Cove. His best customers were the community’s seniors who wanted to purchase the toys they couldn’t afford in their youth. But that didn’t make sense for Alice.

  “I’m not sure what he had for her. I’m sure it wasn’t a car. I asked her, but she was still reacting to morphine the hospital gave her. She said something about painkillers. Why would she go to a car dealership for painkillers? It made little sense to me, so I dropped it.”

  The bridge above Raheem’s nose pinched in two deep lines and he cocked his head toward Dave. He suspected Alice was under the influence of something when the accident occurred, but hadn’t considered pain medication. He still had time to stop at Belcher Motors before the team from the mainland arrived for a debrief.

  “Okay. Thanks, Mr. Connor. I’ll stop back this afternoon, or tomorrow. If Mrs. Connor provides greater detail before tomorrow, please call me.” He handed Dave his card as they walked to the front door.

  As Dave shut the front door, he wondered what his wife wanted from Brian Belcher.

  ◆◆◆

  Raheem pulled into Belcher Motors and found Brian’s wife, Anne, in the back office. “Hi, Mrs. Belcher? Constable Khan, I’m looking into an accident that happened at the entrance to your lot. Is Mr. Belcher around?”

  The woman reeked of money, hair gold-streaked to appear as if it didn’t require several hours in a hair salon, skin with that perpetual sun-kissed look. She lifted her hand toward him, palm-down, in greeting. Four heavy rings, embedded with large green, blue, and red-toned gems, adorned her slim fingers. He wondered how she lifted her hand with that much weight to carry.

  “Constable, a pleasure.” Her voice dripped from her pouty mouth.

  “I’m looking for your husband, is he around?”

  “No, he isn’t – I expected him early yesterday, but he hasn’t made it home yet. Perhaps I can help you?”

  “Is he out of town?”

  “Yes, he went to tour several car plants in Asia almost two weeks ago – a benefit of his role. Our son, Dan, went with him. The tour included a plus one. I wanted to go, but someone had to stay and mind the shop.”

  Raheem noted her comment with concern. From
what he knew of Dan, he wasn’t the business type - at least not legitimate business. Was dad trying to promote an interest in his business through an exotic vacation.

  “That sounds like a terrific trip. Have they been enjoying it?”

  “Well, I believe they were. I haven’t spoken to either of them since they left. With the time difference, it’s too hard to be in touch at a reasonable hour. We’ve been texting. At least Brian and I have been texting. It's been a bit of a whirlwind, Seoul, Tokyo, and finally Beijing. I expect to hear from them soon. Can I help you with something? I’m involved in every aspect of the business, except actually selling vehicles.”