The Evil Men Do

by H. Paul Doucette

  “I don’t know for sure, but we have to check out any possibility.”

  “I understand. What do you need from us?”

  “A list of the manufacturers you deal with would really help. Particularly the ones that make a specific type of release valve.”

  “I see. I take it you know which valve you are looking for?”

  “Yes,” I said, giving him a description of the valve.

  “Hmm. I believe we do carry that particular valve.”

  “We know, that’s why I’m here an’ askin’ for the names of your suppliers.”

  “I see.” He looked away to the man sitting at the table. “William, please bring me the file with our machinists’ contracts. Thank you.” Looking back at me, he said, “You must appreciate that we order quite a lot of items from many sources both locally and from as far afield as Quebec.”

  “I understand,” I said, “But I’m guessin’ you keep pretty accurate records of your transactions with your suppliers.”

  “Of course. We’re required to, because the government requires an audit on a regular basis. However, to find one specific valve’s manufacturer...”

  “I have a serial number,” I said, taking a piece of paper from my pocket and passing it to him. “This should help.”

  He reached out and took the page.

  “Yes...yes, it will. It may take a day or two,” he said, laying the paper on the desk without looking at it. “May I ask why the police are interested the names of the manufacturers.”

  “This particular valve ruptured a coupla days ago on a ship in for repairs. One man was injured, and one was killed. We’ve been asked to look into it.”

  A few moments later William returned with a file and set it on the desk. Sinclair flipped it open and thumbed through several sheets, extracting two of them, which he then passed to me.

  “These are the companies we have contracted with to provide a variety of components to us. I’m sorry to hear about the accident. I assume it was an accident?”

  I took the pages and flipped through them; there were four machine shops.

  “Do any of these shops make this release valve?” I asked, ignoring his question.

  “Well, yes, I suppose they do. It is a common enough piece of equipment.”

  I decided to go straight to the point.

  “Accordin’ to the shipyard’s records, this particular valve was purchased from your company. What I’m interested in is who supplied it to your company, an’ we want to talk to the manufacturer to make sure it wasn’t made with inferior parts.” I watched him carefully for any reaction to this charge.

  “Certainly, you don’t think we’re involved in such activity?” he said, his voice rising slightly.

  I said nothing for a moment, then, standing up, I said, “We would appreciate you gettin’ us that information on the company that supplied that particular valve. You can reach me at the police station, just leave a message. When you have it, send it across by messenger. Thanks for your time.”

  I smiled as I left his office. My gut was telling me there was definitely something fishy going on. I got to the car and climbed in thinking, ‘gotcha’.

  Sinclair stood at the window behind his desk, looking down at Robichaud as he got into his car. Goddamn it, he thought. He and McPherson had pushed their luck too far. But McPherson couldn’t resist the opportunity to get rich and now the police were going to catch them out. He dreaded the idea of getting caught and the thought of going to prison sent shivers of dread down his spine.

  He heard the door open and turned away from the window.

  “Who was that man I saw leaving?” Michael McPherson asked, as closed the door and started to remove his coat.

  “The police,” Sinclair said, sitting back down at his desk.

  “The police? What did they want?”

  “That will be all, William,” he said to the clerk sitting at the table.

  “Yes, sir,” William said, standing and headed for the door, nodding to McPherson as he passed by him.

  After William closed the door and McPherson sat down, Sinclair gave his friend and partner a summary of his meeting with Robichaud.

  “What you tell him?”

  “What else could I say but to agree to send the information he requested.”

  “Damn it all to hell.”

  The two men sat quietly for several minutes before McPherson finally spoke.

  “That’s fine. Send the information but not before we have a chance to make certain amendments and have a talk with Jebson.”

  “Is that such a good idea, Michael? I mean, if they start digging, they are bound to catch us out.”

  “Stop worrying and let me handle this. By the time I’m done, the whole thing will be seen as nothing more than a tragic accident.”

  “Then what? Do we stop or go on?”

  “Well, first thing will be to lie low for a while, but I don’t see why we cannot go on once the interest falls off.”

  “Hmm, I’m not so sure.”

  “Like I said, stop worrying; it will be alright. I think it might be a good time to have dinner with our friend over on Hollis Street.”

  “You think that would be a good idea? You know I never liked or trusted the man.”

  “He’s alright. Besides as politicians go, he’s very good at protecting his seat.”

  “Maybe so. But I still don’t trust him to protect us in a real pinch.”

  “Yes, well, if we go down, he and one or two others will go down as well.”

  “Just remember, Michael, I will not go to prison.”

  “That will not happen. We planned for this eventuality, remember? If they get too close, we can give them someone to hang anything they find on. But to be sure, I think a call to Phillpott might be in order.”

  Sinclair looked pensively at his partner for a moment. “Maybe. Maybe.”

  * * *

  I was back at the station when the call from through from the duty desk.

  “What’s up?” I asked when I picked up the phone.

  “Jus’ got a radio call from one of the patrolmen on the raids callin’ for more men,” the duty officer said.

  “Which one?” I asked.

  “Green Street. I think that’s the one Pete hit. Anyway, seems when they hit the joint there were more people ‘round than they expected for the time a day. Looks like they might have a riot goin’ on.”

  “Okay. Send as many men as you can pull in. I’m headin’ down there right away. Tell Pete to hang on. By the way, what’d they say ‘bout the servicemen?”

  “Said there’s some but it’s mostly civilians so far.”

  “Whaddya mean, so far?”

  “There’s a bunch of sailors an’ some soldiers across the street at the park watchin’.”

  “Okay, thanks,” I said, depressing the disconnect button for a moment, then once I heard the dial tone, I dialled.

  “Inspector Mulroney’s office,” a man’s voice said into my ear.

  “Is Phil, er, Inspector Mulroney there?” I asked, correcting myself. “Tell him it’s Detective Robichaud.”

  “Yes sir, I know who you are. One moment.”

  A few seconds later Phil came on the line.

  “Figured you’d be calling,” he said. “We just got word about a fracas just down the street. I take it this was one of your planned raids?”

  “Yeah. So far, it’s mostly civilians but accordin’ to the call that we jus’ got, there’s a bunch of servicemen nearby.”

  “They involved?”

  “Far as I know, no, but it might be a good idea to have some more military police show up jus’ in case.”

  “Okay, leave it with me,” Phil said.

  “Thanks. I ‘preciate it.” I hung up and headed back to my car.

  It wasn’t hard finding Pete’s location. A large crowd of mostly sailors and a few soldiers and civilians had gathered in front of a house at the bottom of Green Street. I put my siren on as I eased the
car through the press of men, most of them giving way. When I broke into the open, I saw cops and the military policemen massed in front of the house battling with a number of servicemen and civilians. I didn’t see Pete anywhere and guessed he was inside the house. I stopped and shut off the motor then reached under the seat and pulled out an eighteen-inch long truncheon before exiting the car.

  I waded into the fray jabbing men in the kidneys with the stick and whacking others behind their knees. The blows were hard enough to incapacitate them without doing serious injury, they were servicemen after all, and I didn’t want to cripple them. I managed to down five before a couple finally turned on me. It was just about that time I heard sirens in the distance. Reinforcements were on the way.

  Ten minutes later the scene had quieted down and the main troublemakers were subdued or in handcuffs. I had taken a few hits, nothing major but I knew there would be a few painful and ugly bruises tomorrow. I went inside and found Pete in the back of the house supervising a couple of men who were carrying cartons out the back door.

  “You look like shit,” he said when he saw me. I noted he didn’t have a mark on him.

  “How you doin’ in here?” I asked, ignoring his observation.

  “Not bad. We got lucky an’ nailed one of the suppliers who had jus’ made a delivery, twenty cases.”

  “Good,” I said, looking around the room. “So, what happened out front? Don’t look like you had any trouble in here?”

  “We ran into a bit of bother when we came in but got a handle on it pretty quick. Seems most of the men workin’ here were outside drummin’ up trade. I’m guessin’ it was them that started the brawl.”

  I nodded and said, “So, who’d you nab?”

  “We got the one runnin’ the house, Peter Standing, a Brit. But it’s a guy named Slaunwhite. First name, Guy that’s the big catch. Accordin’ to his papers he’s from down ‘round Terrence Bay. We got a file on him already. Nothin’ on Standing. Looks like Slaunwhite was makin’ a delivery when we hit the place; twenty cases with four, two-gallon jugs in each case. Oh, an’ we nailed a local businessman, Paul Wilson. Runs a clothin’ shop up on Gottingen Street. Been sellin’ booze outta his storeroom.”

  “Not bad. Not bad at all,” I said. “They talkin’ yet?”

  “Not a peep,” Pete said.

  “You hear from the other squads yet?”

  “Jus’ one. Seems Slaunwhite already made a drop at that place. They seized ten cases. Haven’t heard from the other one yet.”

  “Okay. Let’s clean up here. Have the liquor taken to the Citadel an’ turned over to the army for safe keeping. Send a uniform with the truck. We’ll take Standing and Slaunwhite in to the station for questioning, make sure you charge them first. I’ll contact Phil at headquarters to turn Slaunwhite over to his people.”

  “Too bad we can’t keep the bastard.”

  “No matter,” I said. “At least he’s outta business. Besides, it’s Phil’s jurisdiction.”

  “Yeah...I know,” Pete said as walked away to organize the loading of the cases onto the truck.

  I headed back outside. By now twenty more military police officers had arrived and were quickly regaining order. Our men were in the process of loading several men into a waiting paddy wagon. The excitement over, the crowd started to break up pretty quick with many heading back to Cornwallis Park. I went to my car and got in, looking in the rear-view mirror at the redness on my face, thinking I would have a rough looking bruise tomorrow.

  When I got back to the station, I called Phil and put him in the picture about the raids.

  “Looks like they were a success,” I said. “Seized over thirty cases of liquor. Best part is, we also arrested one of the suppliers. We got lucky; it seems he was in town makin’ his deliveries himself.”

  “Great,” Phil said.

  “Looks that way, yeah, oh, thanks for sendin’ the cavalry so quick. It might’ve got really bad if they hadn’t arrived.”

  “No problem. You said you arrested the supplier?”

  “Uh-huh. A man named Guy Slaunwhite outta Terrence Bay. We have a file on him but couldn’t touch him.”

  “Jurisdiction, right? Well, you got him red-handed this time. I assume you’re passing him over to us?”

  “Yeah. We got him in a cell here so you can take him whenever you’re ready. I plan to question him myself. I take it you won’t mind?”

  “Not at all. I’ll get a couple of my men to pick him up. An hour long enough?”

  “Plenty, thanks. Oh, by the way. I had a meeting with that supply company in Dartmouth concerning the defective valve. I met with one of the managers, Iain Sinclair. He gave me a list of companies that manufacture the part.”

  “Yeah? And...?”

  “A got a gut feelin’ somethin’s not on the level there.”

  “Sabotage?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “But you think something is going on.”

  “Yeah, probably graft or profiteerin’, I’m not sure, but plan to dig a little deeper.”

  “Okay. Good luck, and let me know what you find, especially if it’s something we can deal with.”

  “Right,” I said. “Thanks again for the assist. I owe you lunch.”

  “I’d settle for another one of your wife’s dinners.”

  “Deal. I’ll set it up an’ get back to you.”

  “Cheers,” he said, then the line went dead.

  I was reading over my notes and the list of company names I had from Iain Sinclair when the phone rang.

  “Robichaud,” I said when I picked up the receiver.

  “This is the duty desk. I got a call from a patrol car reportin’ they think they spotted the car you’re lookin’ for, ya know, the one on the rape case. They say it fits the description you gave us.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah, they say it’s parked up on Brunswick Street near the Old Dutch Church.”

  “They say if the driver is in the car?”

  “Wait a minute an’ I’ll check.”

  A moment later he was back. “They say they don’t see anybody. Whaddya want them to do?”

  I knew we had nothing to bring him in on and I didn’t want to tip my hand too soon.

  “Tell them to stick around but park outta sight an’ wait. If the driver comes back, tell them to pull him over on some pretext and get a look at his license. I want the address.”

  “Got it,” he said, then hung up.

  Finally, I thought, as I sat back and absentmindedly rubbed my cheek where I’d taken a punch earlier, we may’ve caught a break. Looked like the pieces were coming together at last, but I knew it wasn’t likely to last.

  An hour later Pete came in. He went to his desk and took off his jacket, draping over the back of his chair; then went and poured a coffee.

  “How’s everythin’ goin’?” I asked.

  “Good. The booze arrived at the Citadel an’ the army’s got it under lock an’ key. I got the others we busted in the cells.”

  “What about Slaunwhite?”

  “Down the hall in the interrogation room. Figured you’d want have a talk with him.”

  “Yeah, I do,” I said. “Haven’t had a lot of time. Phil’s sendin’ his people down to take him into custody.”

  “What the hell!” Pete said.

  “Relax. The bust is ours but Slaunwhite’s operations are outside the city an’ our jurisdiction. The RCMP are takin’ over. This catch could lead them to other stills in the area.”

  “So, that means...what?”

  “Means, we jus’ busted up a major bootleg operation an’ got a shitload of poisoned booze off the street. Slaunwhite an’ his cronies will be lookin’ at some hard time once the prosecution department gets finished with them. All in all, a win for everybody.”

  “Yeah, there’s that, I suppose,” Pete said. “By the way how’d your meetin’ across the harbour go?”

  “Not bad.”

  I gave him a
quick rundown on my meeting with Sinclair and my feeling that I thought something was not quite right. I also told him we might have a chance at getting our hands on the man who might have raped the Marchand girl.

  “Jesus,” he said when I finished. “We musta done somethin’ right lately to get this lucky.”

  “Don’t say anythin’ else...might jinx it. You ready?” I asked, looking up at my friend.

  He nodded.

  “Right. Go have talk with Slaunwhite while we still got him. I’m waitin’ on a call from Dartmouth Marine with the name of the company that made that valve.”

  “Okay. Anythin’ in particular I should be lookin’ for?” Pete asked.

  “I wanna find out if there is any more of the poisoned booze around and where it’s at.”

  “Gotcha. Besides, I’m in the mood to mess up someone’s day.” He headed for the interrogation room.

  I called Sinclair’s office number. After several rings, a man answered.

  “Mr. Sinclair’s line.” he said.

  “This is detective Robichaud. Is Mr. Sinclair in?” I asked.

  “No sir, sorry. I’m his assistant. Can I help?”

  “Yes, thanks. I’m callin’ for the information I requested from him at our meeting a coupla hours ago. You know what I’m talkin’ about?”

  “Yes sir. The name of the manufacturer of that valve that failed, correct?”

  “Correct. Do you have it?”

  “Yes sir, one moment, please.” I heard a soft thud as he laid the phone down. He was back a moment later. “Here it is.” He read off the name, address and telephone number along with the name of the general manager. I copied the information down in my notepad then thanked him for his help and hung up.

  I looked at the name: Phillpott and Sons, Machinists. Luckily, they were located in Dartmouth down on the other side of Imperoyal. Looked like I was going back across the harbour again.

  Chapter Eight

  Charles Fletcher walked back to his car and got in. He still felt uneasy even though he saw no sign of Lewis’ ship. Just because it wasn’t tied up where it usually moored didn’t mean it had sailed, after all, the convoy was still up in the Basin.