by Ken Ogilvie
Hound wasn’t comforted by what Matthew had told him. He said, “What about her skill with a rifle? She’ll have it with her, and we’ll have to get really close to her, won’t we?”
Matthew chuckled. “You’re a clever fellow, Hound. I truly enjoy tracking with you. And you’re right. Attempting to capture her at a distance would be a big mistake. It’s best that we ambush her. We’ll need to take her by surprise, or at least pounce on her at the very moment she detects our presence.”
Hound shook his head. What Matthew had said wasn’t exactly reassuring.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Thursday, October 4, 2007
Archie MacDougall was standing in front of the hotel reception desk when Rebecca burst out of a nearby elevator and rushed up to him.
“Archie, come with me, please.” Rebecca grabbed his arm and tugged on it.
“Hold off a moment, lassie,” Archie laughed, gently disengaging himself from her grasp. I’ll just finish up the paperwork here. Then I’d be glad t’ join ye.”
“I’ll wait,” Rebecca said. As soon as Archie had been given his room key, she asked him to follow her. He gave her a quizzical look, but did as he was told.
Rebecca knocked softly at Sykes’s door. It opened, and Archie sucked in a breath. “I should ha’ known,” he stated. “Well, maybe it’s time we all had a wee chat.” He entered the room, past the two chairs by the window, and looked down at the street below. “Been spyin’ on people, eh?” He sat on one of the chairs and pulled a hand-rolled cigarette from his shirt pocket. “Don’t mind, do ye? If I’m t’ be interrogated, I’ll be needin’ a little fortification. I don’t suppose ye’ll have something with a bit o’ liquid courage in it?” Sykes shook his head.
Rebecca looked at Sykes, who pointed at the second chair. He positioned himself on a corner of the bed, reached behind him and picked up a large envelope, from which he drew a few typed pages. He passed them to Rebecca. “Read this first, and then pass it on to Archie. It summarizes my research into Hound. It’s something both of you should know about. When you’ve read it, we can talk about Hound, and Archie can tell us what’s going on. And who we should be after for the attempted murder of George Bradley. With Archie’s input, we should finally be able to solve the mystery of who murdered Sarah.’’
Rebecca read through the pages he’d given her and blew out a huge breath. She handed them to Archie and gazed at Sykes. “So Hound has potential links to the Jesuits, through some kind of underground group that deals in Church artifacts. Do you really believe there’s a secret society that’s got its hooks into Hound’s foster father? Is Hound really the heir to a fortune?”
Sykes shrugged. “That’s what my research has turned up so far.”
“Aye,” Archie said, “it’s true enough about the Jesuits and the artifacts, but I know nothing about any connection t’ Hound. Seems there’s more goin’ on than even George and I are aware of.”
“Just tell us what you know,” Rebecca urged.
After a pause, and a couple of slow draws on the cigarette, Archie said, “They’re a scurvy bunch, that’s for sure. George met this villainous Jesuit, Father Jacob, on a business trip to England. There’s some difficult things there that I have t’ tell ye about.” He proceeded to talk about the Catholic Church’s artifacts that he and George Bradley had been accumulating for more than two decades. Their main focus was gold, but along the way they had also acquired some ancient maps and a few other relics. George got in contact with Father Jacob when he learned from another collector that the Society had some valuable objects for sale. A deal was struck, and the Society became the main source of George’s swelling treasure chest. Archie was the go-between for the sales, and large sums of money had changed hands over the years.
“So, you and my father have been in cahoots with this secret Society all along,” Rebecca said. “I’m shocked to hear it, but I’m also puzzled. How could this happen without my knowledge?”
Archie produced a perfect smoke ring. “Because we were discreet. We never did that kind o’ business at your house. Sarah would’ve seen us for one. She wouldna stood for it, bein’ so religious and all.”
“But she did catch you at it, didn’t she?” Rebecca’s cheeks were growing hot. She felt anger building up inside of her.
“Aye, that she did.” Archie hung his head for a moment. Then he lifted his face to Rebecca. “I know what yer thinkin’ but hold on a bit.”
Sykes barged in. “Sarah threatened to tell the local Catholic priest, which would have brought your illegal hobby to an end. She told me that much. So what did you and George do about it?” His voice was steely.
“Nothin’, I swear,” Archie replied defensively. “She argued with George, but in the end she dinna tell the priest. And then, all of a sudden, she was dead.” He gazed sadly at Rebecca.
“You know who did it, don’t you?” Sykes shot to his feet and pointed at Archie, who rose and faced him.
“Not for sure. But I have a notion o’ who it might ha’ been. If I were certain, he’d already be a dead man.”
Rebecca stood up too. “Father Jacob. He must have killed her. Or one of his Society members did it. Either way, he’s culpable. Where can we find him?”
Archie shrugged. “For all I know, he could be right here in Prospect. If he is, I’ll know for sure he’s guilty, and he won’t leave the town alive.” He turned towards the window. “I’ll be lookin’ for him.”
“What about Maggie Delaney?” Sykes asked. “How does she fit into all this?”
With his back to them, Archie said, “She had this terrible breakdown. Can’t remember a thing.” He parted the curtains and stood looking out the window. After a while, he said, “Maggie found yer mother first, before anyone else got there, Rebecca. That’s what tipped her o’er the edge. After George and I went there, I slipped away and headed next door t’ Maggie’s house t’ see if she was there and had seen anythin’. I found her in an awful state. I canna tell ye any more.”
“Yes, you can,” Rebecca almost shouted at him. “I know all about Maggie’s affair with my father. She told me she’d loved him since they were children. She always thought they would get married and settle down together, then Sarah came along. Nevertheless, Maggie wasn’t the murderer, was she?” She strode up to Archie and pulled on his arm until he turned to face her.”
“Now there’s the rub,” he said. “She might ha’ done it, though I canna believe it mesel’. I reckon it were more likely the Jesuits.”
“Then we have to find Father Jacob and interrogate him,” Rebecca declared. “But don’t kill him, Archie. I need to know if the Society was responsible for my mother’s death.”
Archie muttered, “I’ll do my best, lassie, but we’re dealin’ wi’ dangerous men here. I don’t expect that Father Jacob himself would be the one to shoot yer father.”
“Neither do I,” Sykes added. “But just maybe the would-be killer has remained in the vicinity, waiting to confirm that George Bradley is indeed dead, and if he lives, looking for another chance to finish the job. If so, we may be able to get him. I too want to take him alive.” He nodded to Rebecca. “But I can’t be seen in the town while the OPP are around. I’ll do whatever I can from my room. I know I can trust you to keep my presence secret, Archie.”
“Aye, that ye can.”
Rebecca said, “We’re agreed, then. We’ll work together to catch the killer. And now we should get on with it.” She headed towards the hotel room door, Archie close behind her.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Saturday, October 6, 2007
As darkness descended, Matthew made his way through the silent forest to the tallest tree on the rise. He began to climb, Hound watching from below. Matthew scaled the tree and hung from the topmost branch, looking out above the treetops and beyond.
He whispered, “There’s a light flickering in the forest about a mile from here. Must be Jackie.”
“What do we do now?” Hound said, kno
wing the answer.
“Go after her, like we agreed. Go down the hill and head in the direction I’m pointing.” Hound could barely make out the raised arm in the gloom. “Stop after a hundred yards and I’ll join you. I’m sure I’ll be able to find the light from there.”
“Okay,” Hound muttered. “Then you’ll have to tell me how we’re going to catch Jackie.”
Hound slithered down the hill in the direction Matthew had indicated. As he went, he made cuts in the trees, just to reassure himself that Matthew would find him. Jackie might have built the fire that Matthew had spotted, but there was no guarantee she was there now. She might even be nearby in the forest, and Hound didn’t relish the thought of running into her alone and in the dark.
Matthew soon found him. “What now?” Hound said, “Tie a rope around my waist and drag me through the woods until she shoots me?”
Matthew let out a muffled laugh. “Not a bad idea. I hadn’t thought of that.” He turned serious. “Here’s the plan. First, we creep up to within a hundred yards of the fire. I’ll go forward from there. I’m confident I can do that without Jackie detecting me, but if you do hear a gunshot, turn and run like hell. Don’t stop until you can’t go any further. And don’t try to save me, okay? But assuming I get within sight of the fire, and Jackie’s there, I’m banking on her being focused on setting up a basic shelter that she can live in for now, improving upon it before winter hits. I need to study the layout of the place, especially where she goes in and out. It will be hidden in a patch of bush and rocky terrain that’s almost inaccessible, somewhere hunters and trappers won’t bother to go into. She’ll be planning on building a well-concealed camp that can remain unnoticed for years.”
“Yeah, I get it,” Hound mumbled. “Then what?”
“Ah. Then things will get really interesting,” Matthew said. “We’ll capture her tonight if we can.”
Hound felt jittery. It was all happening too fast. Matthew said, “I know it’s a terrifying thought, Hound, but the sooner we do it, the better. Jackie will be exhausted after days on the run. We’ll have the advantage of surprise, and we’ll need every edge we can get on her. If we wait for a day or two, she might discover us, and then the game will be up. Also, if you keep worrying like you’re doing now, you’ll talk yourself out of doing it. I don’t fancy taking her down on my own. For now, just wait here and try to calm your mind. I’ll tell you precisely how we’re going to trap her when I return. Okay?”
Hound blew out a huge breath, and Matthew grunted. “Stay right here until I come back,” he said, “assuming there’s no gunshots.” He set off in the direction of the fire, while Hound went over to a nearby tree, slumped against the trunk and sank slowly to the ground.
* * *
Matthew reappeared two hours later. Hound leapt to his feet. “Now?” he said.
“Here’s the plan,” Matthew said. “The campsite is half a mile from here, closer than I thought. It’s Jackie alright. I watched her bed down for the night. Follow me, making as little noise as possible. I’ll take you to within a hundred yards of her camp. We’ll be threading our way along a rather twisted route through heavy bush and rocky outcrops. If Jackie hears us before we’re ready, she’ll be out of her camp in a flash, rifle in hand. I observed her for half an hour. She kept the weapon with her all the time.” Matthew paused for a moment. “When we’re close enough, I’ll edge forward about fifty yards and hide behind a rock outcrop that’s right next to Jackie’s access path to the camp. Then the fun begins. It’ll be your lead from then on.”
Hound said, “Let me guess. I creep forward, trying to remain undetected. But you’re counting on me failing, aren’t you? You know I’ll make some noise, however small, and Jackie will hear. She’ll investigate, naturally.”
“Bang on, Hound! She’ll figure it’s you. Who else would be foolhardy enough to make a play for her at night, in the middle of nowhere? I’m assuming that she won’t suspect I’m with you. It’s fortunate you’re such a loner.” Matthew chuckled softly.
”And when Jackie comes after me,” said Hound, “you’ll jump on her and hold her until I help secure her. But if she breaks free before I get there, we’ll meet each other in the afterlife.”
“Exactly!” Matthew smiled, as though that outcome would also be a satisfactory conclusion to their adventure.
Hound shook his head to clear it. He gazed in the direction they would soon be heading. Matthew started off, with Hound trailing miserably behind him. He didn’t like the plan, but he didn’t have a better one.
They travelled about twenty yards and were nearing a thick patch of bush when a strident voice rang out.
“Stop right there, boys.” The bushes parted and Jackie Caldwell stepped from the shadows, her rifle aimed at Hound’s rapidly tightening chest.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Friday, October 5, 2007
Rebecca and Archie left the hotel together on Friday morning, but once they were on the sidewalk, Rebecca said, “Let’s split up. You take the far side of the street. I’ll do this one.”
Archie nodded, and crossed the street where he entered a hardware store. Rebecca headed to a seedy drinking hole that she’d visited occasionally when she lived in Prospect. When her eyes had adjusted to the gloom, she saw two burly men seated at the bar, staring at her. She didn’t recognize them. The occupants of a table to one side of the room — three men and a young woman — glanced at her briefly and looked away. She knew them by sight, and they obviously knew who she was. She was used to such looks. After all, her father had dominated this town for more than three decades, and many of them detested him. Almost half of the adult population of Prospect worked for him, directly or indirectly, and most of them accorded him a grudging respect but not a lot of affection. Rebecca knew that a large percentage of the townsfolk wouldn’t be overly distressed at what had happened to him.
“Hi.” Rebecca strode over to the side table and greeted the occupants. They looked up at her warily, and no one returned her greeting. “Carol, isn’t it?” Rebecca said. “And that’s Roger Daniels next to you, if my memory’s correct.” To the other two, she said, “Sorry guys, I remember your faces, but can’t recall your names.”
One of the two got to his feet. “Charlie. Take my chair and I’ll grab another. You did want to talk to us, right?” Rebecca thanked him. Then she looked at the last unnamed man. “Rebecca Bradley. And you?” She held out her hand.
He glanced at the proffered hand. “I know your name,” he said. “Mine’s Paul.” He stared down at the table.
Charlie slid another chair in next to Rebecca. “Don’t mind Paul,” he said. “He was laid off from the mine a week ago. Job openings are tight around here right now. He’s a good worker, though.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Rebecca said. “I understand.”
“No, you don’t,” Paul snapped. “You have no idea what it means to scratch out a living.” His eyes remained fixed on the table.
Charlie intervened. “It’s not your fault, Ms. Bradley. We know that. Nor is having piles of money.” He shot Paul a warning look.
“It’s okay, really,” Rebecca said. “But it’s not as easy as you think, being George Bradley’s only child. I would’ve liked to be friends with lots of the kids in this town while I was growing up, but most of them were afraid of me, or their parents were scared of my father. I’m not asking for sympathy, just hoping you’ll cut me a bit of slack because I have some questions to ask.” She scanned round the table. “Is that alright?”
Everyone except Paul nodded in agreement. After a brief silence, he shrugged. “Okay.”
Carol turned to face Rebecca. “I’m sorry about what happened to your Mom. She was always nice to me. She was kind. Gave me a scarf and mitts one winter when I was near freezing to death. The whole town knows you’re a cop now, so you’ll get it if people don’t wanna answer your questions.”
“First of all, I’m on a leave of absence,” Rebecca said. “I’m
not interrogating you or anything and I’m not going to report back. I’m just trying to find out who shot my father. He’s in a critical condition and may not survive. I’ll be hanging around to check up on him until I’m sure he’s alright. Whoever shot him may still be in the area, and I’m determined to catch him, or her, if I can, or at least set the police on his trail. That’s why I’m in here now, seeing if anyone can help me find the shooter.” She pushed her chair back and waited for someone to break the silence.
“Tell us what you’re looking for,” Roger said. “Strangers in town? There’ve been a few this past week, but not many. Mostly passing through, or staying a night or two at the Big Rock. Better to ask the hotel staff, or the bartender over there. Name’s Ralph. He’s new, though, just three days on the job, and most of the people here must look like strangers to him.”
“I’ll question him later,” Rebecca said, “but you’re locals. You recognize pretty well everyone in Prospect, and strangers stick out. Have you seen anyone in the past week or so who’s new around here?” She leaned back and waited for someone to speak.
A few seconds later, Carol touched her wrist. “I work at the grocery store on the edge of town. There’s only one new person I can think of off-hand. A smartly dressed bitch who came in for some Perrier. Stand-offish, didn’t have a friendly word for anyone. Probably a lawyer come to see your father, or some other important type.”
“Can you describe her?” Rebecca asked.
“Sure,” Carol said. “Blonde, bleached hair in a tight bun, not one strand out of place. Mid-forties, maybe, or fiftyish. Manicured nails and plucked eyebrows. Thin lips. Cold, hard eyes, greenish, I think. My height, but skinny as a rake. Posh clothes and those very high heels. She paid cash.” She paused. “That’s all.”
