The Sandcastle Murders

by K. E. Warner

  She continued through the dark into the living room and froze. The balcony curtains waved and settled as if a breeze had caught them. She flicked the light switch and a large figure sprang out through the opened door, over the balcony rail, leaping to the ground a floor below. She followed as far as the railing and watched the figure disappear into the shadows of the night.

  Magda staggered back into the living room, slammed the balcony door and flung the lock into place. She hustled from light to light, turning them on until the room flooded with brightness, regretting her habit of leaving the balcony unlocked. With her feet glued to the floor, she wrapped shaking arms around her chest and scoured the room for signs of disruption or theft. Her head swivelled as she scanned a mental checklist, purse, cell phone, wallet. All sat undisturbed.

  But something was missing. She sensed it. And then she knew.

  She spun in a circle, searching first with her eyes, then dropping to her knees to peer under the couch and chair. Tossing cushions to the floor she searched under the seats in a frantic attempt to make it appear. The snowflake keychain was gone. She picked up the phone and collapsed into a chair.

  Only Raheem, Elaine, and Donna knew she had those keys. Who would risk breaking into her apartment to steal them? At once her mind jumped to thoughts of Sonja, murdered in the middle of the night. Would someone go that far to retrieve the keys?

  It had to have been Chris. He knew she was connected to the keys and must have taken a chance on finding them at her place. Had he heard the keys jingle when she picked up the snowflake or more likely, when she dropped them?

  She held the home button on her phone. “Siri, call Raheem.” She listened as the ringing echoed in her ears. Mixed with the pounding of her heart, it was an ominous soundtrack for her thoughts. Her stomach, a pinched knot, rose in her throat when she heard his voice.

  “Yeah, ‘lo,” Raheem mumbled.

  She could hear herself squeak. “Raheem it’s Magda. Someone just broke into my apartment, and….”

  “Wah? Are you all right? Have you called the police?”

  “No, I called you first. Yes. I’m okay, just shaky.”

  “No? I’ll call them now. Lock your doors. And stay put. I’ll be right there.”

  “Okay. Yes, come quick.”

  Minutes later she buzzed the RCMP officers into the lobby. As they entered her apartment, Raheem plowed through behind them like a bulldozer scooping them up from behind.

  “Ma’am, we’ll look around. Have a seat. Officer Khan can stay with you.”

  The officers swept through the apartment while Raheem placed a protective arm behind her. She was shaking so hard he pulled a blanket off the end of the couch, wrapping it around her shoulders.

  An officer appeared back in the living room. “No one is here now. Can you go over what happened?”

  Magda detailed her experience on waking and the officer pointed at her balcony door. “They ran out through this door?” he asked.

  Magda nodded and the second officer stepped onto the balcony and looked over the railing into the night.

  She turned back to Magda and asked, “And how did they enter?”

  “The balcony door was open. It’s warm and stuffy in the apartment in the summer. I leave it open most evenings.”

  The officer shook her head. “Someone could see it open from below. A climb up one floor would be easy.” The officer and Raheem made eye contact, a silent agreement of the error Magda had made. “Are you aware of anything missing?”

  A tear swelled before it dropped down her cheek, opening a floodgate. Turning to Raheem, she choked through sobs, “Yes. A set of keys.”

  His head snapped upright, his poker face faded to one of concern. “Your keys?”

  “No. The set of keys with the snowflake attached.”

  “The ones I saw here earlier? Why would someone steal those? Who knew you had them? Whose keys are they? You said you thought you knew.”

  Her sobs grew louder with each question. Raheem rubbed her back until she could catch her breath. “Raheem, I think they belong to Chris Ducharme. He was the only other person who might think I had them, besides Donna and Elaine and you. I called him last night and told him someone found them. I didn’t tell him I had them. Maybe he guessed. Maybe he broke in and took them.”

  “But why Magda? Why didn’t you tell me, and why didn’t you tell him you had them if you thought they were his, and why would he break in to steal his own keys from you?”

  Raheem and the two officers watched her until she was coherent enough to explain. “We were on his boat yesterday. It wasn’t a big deal. At least it wasn’t at the time. Snowflake is the boat’s name. I think the keys belong to that boat, and to Chris. I didn’t know that, or I wouldn’t have gone.”

  Three perplexed faces waited for her to continue. A sour taste filled her mouth and she struggled to breath as the air in the room became heavy.

  “Elaine found those keys in the sand, very close to where Brian Belcher’s body was found. In the children’s sand sculpture area.”

  Raheem roared, “Jeez, Magda. You know better than that. You know damn well you may have been tampering with evidence. And you kept it from me. Me!” His massive hand dragged through his hair, from forehead to the nape of his neck.

  “I do. I know, of course I do. But…”

  “No Magda. No buts. There is nothing you can say on this one.” He looked at the officers. “This guy, Chris Ducharme – he’s the guy we arrested Friday night. The one who got out on a song yesterday morning. He lives with his father, Henri Ducharme, at the Ocean Castles – in the condos.”

  An officer stepped forward. “We’ll head over to the Ocean Castles and see if he’s there. Ducharme? One of those special agents from the mainland was asking about him this morning. One popular guy.”

  “Don’t tell me he’s wrapped up in the opioid scheme too.” Raheem froze, then shook his head. “Sure. Of course, he is. Figures. Get someone over to the marina too – see if you can find this boat. Snowflake.”

  A painful silence echoed in Magda’s ears once the officers left. This was bad. Some kind of opioid scandal happening in Stey Cove? Chris couldn’t be part of it. Nothing made sense.

  Raheem finished tapping away in his phone and glared at Magda. “Can someone stay with you for the rest of the night? Officers will be over in the morning to dust for fingerprints. That may help clear up who broke in if they weren’t wearing gloves.”

  She shook her head, not wanting to wake anyone up in the middle of the night. Or give cause for gossip.

  “Well, I can stay with you, if you like.”

  She shook her head again, knowing she could expect more lectures if he remained.

  “Okay. I’m stopping by Connors’ place in the morning, but when I’m done, I’ll check on you, and you’ll tell me everything. With luck we’ll find him by then. Eventually we’ll know what the hell is going on here. And if he tries to get in touch with you, call me. Immediately.”

  The words squeaked from her throat. “Yes. Okay. I’ll wait for the investigators in the morning.”

  He turned his back and pulled the door closed as he left.

  “Lock this now.” His command resonated down the hallway and reverberated in her apartment from the other side of the door.

  Chapter twenty-six

  A sleepless night and continued thoughts of how Magda had held out on him fueled his temper this morning. He relaxed his jaw and wiggled it from side to side hoping the release of tension flowed to the rest of his body.

  He quipped at the officer manning reception as he entered the detachment. “Any sign of Ducharme?”

  “Nope. Not surprised. Are you?”

  “Nope.”

  Inside his office he drummed his pen on the desk, a rhythmic reminder of time passing without progress. What did he know about Ducharme? Henri, his father, seemed like a trustworthy and considerate man, but somewhere along the way his son diverged from those family values. Dive
rged enough to be a person of interest in the break-in at Magda’s, the murder of Brian Belcher, and if the evident interest shown by the task force meant anything, the opioids entering Canada through Stey Cove.

  Enough of this contemplating. He’d make progress this morning, starting with a chat with the Connors.

  He waved good-bye at the on-duty officer as he raced out the building to his car.

  ◆◆◆

  Raheem pulled through the strata complex into the Connor’s driveway, eyes darting from home to home as he noted how quiet the neighbourhood appeared. From experience, he knew some people hid dark thoughts - and actions - behind closed doors. He rang the bell and turned to look at neighbouring homes, seeing the flicker of blinds at Donna’s, and the inquisitive looks of a couple walking their dog. His teeth beamed through a small grin and he waved.

  “Detective? Raheem?” Dave pulled the door open slightly and tugged a short housecoat closer to his chest, his face a twist of confusion.

  “Official business, Mr. Connor. I’ll only take a few minutes of your time.”

  Dave pulled the door wide open to allow for Raheem’s mass. “Please, call us Dave and Alice. I know it’s less formal, and this is official, but we’d be more comfortable that way.”

  Raheem nodded, stepping through the doorway. The warm, comforting scents of cinnamon and coffee were clues; the telltale signs of a pleasant breakfast.

  “I’d like to ask you and Alice about Brian Belcher, and your relationships with him. If you’d prefer, you’re welcome to come into the detachment. I thought you’d be more comfortable here.”

  Alice hobbled around the corner gripping the handle of a Rosewood cane, the coarse grain a work of art.

  “Officer. Would you like to join us? We have a pot of coffee on, and I just pulled apple cinnamon muffins from the oven.”

  The extended invitation felt insincere, but he was used to rebuffs. He found people were often uncomfortable when he wanted information from them. Regardless, he nodded to accept the invitation of coffee. “No muffin, thanks. Although they smell wonderful.”

  Alice manoeuvred herself into the kitchen, and leaned on the cane while she poured a coffee for Raheem. As she placed the steaming mug in front of him, she asked, “How can we help you, Raheem?”

  Raheem accepted the less formal address and gently lowered his mass to a kitchen stool, conscious his frame dwarfed the seat.

  “We’re investigating the murder of Brian Belcher. One, or both of you may have information helpful to the case. We know, Alice, that the day of your car accident you attended the dealership to speak with Mr. Belcher. You were picking up a package. You spoke with Mrs. Belcher, who was not aware of the package. When you left, witnesses believe you appeared distressed.” He spoke as though he was trying to jog her memory, although he believed her memory was clear on the event.

  He lifted the coffee to his mouth and sipped, holding both the mug and his gaze steady. Silence echoed through the kitchen till a precariously stacked sink of dishes collapsed spontaneously, and the senior couple jumped in tandem. Alice cautiously moved herself to a stool and sat, placing the cane against the counter beside her.

  “I was…I was very distressed.” She looked at Dave for a long while, then reached for his hand before turning back to Raheem. “I am addicted to painkillers.”

  Raheem heard the intake of air and saw Dave go pale. The officer waited for her to continue, almost certain of the information that would follow.

  “I ran out of options. My doctor refused to fill further prescriptions. I tried my dentist, but he found nothing to substantiate my excuse. Every time the painkillers wore off, pain in my back and shoulder incapacitated me. I wasn’t sleeping, I couldn’t sit, stand, walk. I felt as though I would die if it wouldn’t go away. I began asking the neighbours if they had anything. Most of them did. Leftovers from some surgery or other. That helped for a while, until I used up their medications too. I finally complained to the right neighbour, and she suggested I talk to Brian Belcher.”

  Dave dropped her hand and pulled a third stool toward himself. He sat beside his wife, his shoulders sagging, his face streaked with tears. He nodded toward Alice as he reached for her hand.

  “The first time I went to see him, I told Dave it was another doctor's appointment. I didn’t know what to say to Brian. I mean, one doesn’t just walk into a car dealership and ask for drugs.”

  She chortled, choking on phlegm in her throat before continuing. “At least I never knew that’s what you did. But, apparently, you do. And in other cities, you go into restaurants, or laundromats, or dark alleys. The first time I went in I just asked for him, and when he came out of his office, I told him who’d given me his name. He took me back to his office and asked me where I lived, what I wanted, and if I was a police officer or working on behalf of a police officer. I remember thinking they were stupid questions and maybe I’d gone to the wrong place. But at the end of the questions, he opened a desk drawer, pulled out a letter-sized envelope, and handed it to me. I gave him a fistful of cash – I don’t recall how much, and that was it.”

  Alice quivered and wrapped her arms around herself.

  “I’ll get you a sweater.” Dave disappeared for a moment, returning and placing the cotton sweater around her shoulders. He leaned over behind her and kissed her cheek, pulling a tissue from his pocket and placing it in her hand. Pulling her back toward him as he straightened, he became a stoic wall for her to lean on.

  “I went back twice more. The second time he told me he’d be out of town for a few weeks, but we could meet when he returned. I looked for him when he was due back, but he wasn’t there. His wife didn’t know where he was. I asked if she had any packages for me, and she said she didn’t know what I was talking about.”

  Her head dropped to her chest, and she pulled the sweater tight as she rocked on the stool. Dave hugged her to his chest and squeezed a sigh from her lungs. He placed a hand on top of her shoulder.

  “I believed Dave wasn’t aware of the situation. But when I finally told him, he’d already guessed, and didn’t know what to do about it.”

  Raheem scribbled some notes and quieted his voice so his words came out in a whisper. “What did you know Dave?”

  “Well, the third time she said she was going to the doctor’s office, I decided shortly after she left, that I would talk to the doctor with her. I thought, surely there’s something he could help with. Some physiotherapy? A specialist, some kind of surgeon? Anything other than painkillers. You know, you hear all these stories nowadays about people becoming addicted to painkillers…”

  She took her hand from under her sweater and placed it on top of his.

  Dave moved back to his seat on the stool. “As I drove by the car lot on the way to the doctor’s office, I caught sight of her walking into the dealership. I pulled in and parked beside the front windows. I didn’t see her for a few minutes. Not until she came out of Brian’s office. She looked happy.”

  Dave’s face resembled a sad clown, and Raheem looked down at his notes as the man continued.

  “My wife’s an attractive, intelligent, vivacious woman. If someone’s poaching her, I need to know about it.”

  His lips pursed as he looked over at his wife. “I went into the dealership and asked for Brian. He came out of his office and all I wanted was to punch him in the face.” An embarrassed laugh escaped his chest. “You know what. If I’d known the truth before that moment, I’d still feel that way.” He hugged his wife, and she lay her head on his shoulder.

  Raheem broke the silence. “And you spoke to Mr. Belcher?”

  The words seemed to wake Dave from a trance. “Oh, oh, I spoke to him. I asked him what the hell he was doing with my wife because it sure wasn’t selling her a car. He asked me to sit and calm down. At first, he tried to tell me I should ask my wife, and when I told him if he wasn’t man enough to admit it, I sure wouldn’t listen to his advice about the situation. Then Brian opened his desk drawer, pul
led out two white pills and slammed them on the desk. I didn’t understand that at all. Was he going to take them? Was I supposed to take them? No idea.”

  He rubbed his palm as if trying to wake a numb hand. “Finally, he just said it, ‘Your wife. Here. It’s what Alice comes here for.’ He pushed them across the desk at me. It took a few seconds, and it still made no sense, but I realized she was buying pills from this guy. I tossed him a disgusted look, and slammed out of the office. I went to Starbucks, the grocery store, the bakery, and when I couldn’t stall any longer, I went home. Didn’t talk to Alice about it. I didn’t know what to say.”

  Alice continued the conversation. “I’ve told him now. Everything. When Brian didn’t return from his trip, things got terrible for me. But I’m going to therapy, and physio, now. A skin patch,” she pulled the sweater away from her arm and Raheem could see the cream-coloured patch, “meditation, and lots of crying. But I’m not going back there. It was the darkest place I’ve ever been.”