Lethally Logged

by Amber Boffin

  She sighed heavily. “I understand. I’ve triggered enough trouble as is. I’m so sorry that everyone’s been searching for me in the wrong place. I suppose I don’t need to see him. He will pop up soon, I can assure you of that.”

  Raj leaned forward on his elbows with his hands clutched together. “You admit the missing person was you. That’s a start.”

  “No. I wanted to clear up any misunderstanding. Whatever Barrie Brown told you has to be taken lightly…and this local reporter of yours, spreading fake news. Can’t trust her for anything, not even her job!” Kate flipped open the Daily Stumble she had rolled up on her lap to a picture of her and Ben that had been taken during the mushroom-picking tour. She read out loud, “‘Good news, we have all reason to believe Ben Fearon’s partner was the missing woman. She is alive and has been seen in Foxton…’”

  She threw the paper back on the desk. “I need peace now, no more questions. You can understand that, I hope.”

  Raj scratched the back of his neck, tickled by his curly black hair rubbing against his shirt. He needed a haircut. He brushed away the untimely thought and concluded that neither Sergeant Humphries nor his colleagues must have seen the Daily Stumble, otherwise they would have put two and two together when they looked at them through the door.

  Raj stood up. “Please wait here while I tell the team right away. I still have some questions for you.”

  He thought of Ted, whom Arthur thought was missing. If only they could get a hold of him, he might be a key witness in this story, or might even be involved. He certainly didn’t like the logging camp so close to his hideaway. He could easily have been helping Ben Fearon with his plan, whatever it was.

  When Raj came back to his desk, Kate had left. He should have known better. He would have to explain that to Sergeant Humphries, and he didn’t look forward to it.

  Chapter Fifteen

  When the doorbell of her photo studio rang, Maggie anticipated she would be face to face with the forester with the mullet—Chainsaw, as Barrie had called him—having forgotten the name at the bottom of the email. Instead, it was a man she placed in his late fifties, from his wrinkles and thinning hair. He had a circular beard that accentuated his large mouth. He smiled at her, his eyes moving around as if cameras were hidden behind them, recording everything.

  Unlike most clients, he didn’t seem interested in talking to her about her photography experience but instead was eyeing the studio and seemed eager to move to the far end of it. He was carrying a tiny Chihuahua, not the first breed of dog she would have imagined him with. When he put his hand on its face to cuddle it, it growled and gnawed at his fingers.

  “Quite a character, your dog!” Maggie laughed. “Come on in.” She looked up at the dark sky, and a drop of water fell on the tip of her nose. “It’s nice and dry in here. Let me take your coat. Have you come straight from the logging camp?”

  She helped him remove his soaking jacket, not a lot of sawdust and muck, she observed, for a worker’s jacket. He shook her hand. His hand was clean and soft, without any calluses, also not what you would expect for a forester. He put the dog into her arms without warning and walked around her studio.

  “It’s for my wife. I want to surprise her with a portrait of…” He seemed to hesitate, as if he’d forgotten the name of the dog.

  Maggie glanced at the dog’s collar. His name was engraved on a large tag. “Tiger?” She stroked his head gently. He appeared to relax in her arms and gave out a deep sigh, resting his little head on her forearm. A far cry from the tension she’d seen in him at first.

  “Tiger, yes.” He had stopped in front of a picture of a massive old white pine. “Good picture. Where was this taken?”

  Having heard from Adam that this tree was likely over three hundred years old and had miraculously escaped the saws of the first settlers, Maggie had vowed to keep its location secret. “Somewhere in the States. Maine. Have you encountered such magnificent trees in the last decade?”

  Without answering her question, he picked up her camera. “Nice equipment.”

  At the sight of him flicking through her pictures, Maggie placed the little dog on the mat she had put out as backdrop for the pictures and took it from his hands. “Yes, it is. What kind of picture did you have in mind for Tiger?”

  He shrugged and smiled. “I leave it up to the expert.”

  “Your wife might like a portrait of you holding Tiger.”

  “No, no, I don’t think she wants to see more of me. She likes her pooch.”

  He was pacing up and down, poking his nose around as if he were searching for something. Tiger always tucked his tail between his legs as soon as he came near him, seemingly out of fear.

  “You work at the logging camp, close to the haunted cabin?” He didn’t seem to understand what she was talking about. “You must’ve heard about the place, it’s been all over the news, at least the Foxton news, for the past year with ghost stories.” Maggie clicked away, throwing a ball now and then at Tiger, who was delighted to play.

  “That one. Yes, I’ve heard of it, but we don’t go near that place. Have you been there?”

  Maggie thought of Andy and James. “Yes, it’s funny, because I met two of your colleagues there.”

  “Really? Well, that interests me. What were they doing there?”

  “I don’t know exactly.” Maggie wondered why he hadn’t spoken about Ben Fearon; he must have heard about it from his colleagues. “Haven’t you heard? About the death of Ben Fearon, the activist?”

  “Yes, that’s why I was asking about my colleagues.”

  Maggie put her camera down, perplexed.

  He continued, “I can tell you are very perceptive. It’s obvious to you by now that this dog doesn’t belong to me.”

  Maggie looked at Tiger and then at him. “I kind of thought he didn’t like you, but you said it was your wife’s dog. I’ve seen a parrot that had a dislike for the wife of a young man from Foxton. He would pester her and tease her all the time.” She didn’t want to lose the opening he had just handed to her. “Why bring him here then? What do you want to ask me?”

  He sighed. “I’m Stuart Harris, the operations manager of the logging camp. I wasn’t sure you would want to speak with me if you were on Ben Fearon’s side.”

  “I’m on nobody’s side for now. From what I understand, Ben Fearon was a bit of an anarchist when it came to fighting his cause.”

  “You’re being very mild there. He was a dangerous man. You can see why I want to get to the bottom of this story?”

  “I’m a little confused. What has he done to you?”

  “I can’t tell you, but you know from his blog that he targets logging operations to prevent habitat loss—”

  Maggie interrupted, wondering about the cleared forest she had witnessed with Adam. “Yes. I heard he was particularly interested in illegal logging.”

  “You’re correct, and I have no problem with that. Illegal logging hurts our business terribly. If only I could get my hands on the people doing it!” Stuart shook his fist. “Unfortunately, Ben Fearon didn’t stop at that.”

  “I still don’t understand how I can be of help?”

  “I’d like to hear your account of what you saw. And anything you can tell me about my colleagues.”

  Maggie wasn’t sure if she could trust him. “Why do you need to know that? Has it got anything to do with your business?”

  “It has. You see, I gave Ben Fearon directions to the cabin, and I suspect now he wasn’t lost at all. I’m convinced he was plotting against our business with the help of insiders.”

  Maggie had to ask. “He must have found an illegal logging site close by, otherwise why bother you like that?”

  “Illegal site?” He seemed genuinely surprised by her question.

  Perhaps she shouldn’t have asked; it might blow up whatever plan Adam had to convict them. “Only a thought,” she added.

  “That’s all right. I know things are happening behind my back
. It’s possible and would explain suspicious behavior I’ve spotted in my crew. You understand now why I have to get to the bottom of this story fast, and I need all the information I can get?”

  “Look, I think you should go to the police. I’ve told them all I know.”

  Stuart smiled. “I have. As it happens, I used to be Humphries’s superior, but that was a decade ago. He mentioned you. That you somehow always appeared where there was trouble…”

  “Yes, not on purpose, though.” It wasn’t clear whether Humphries had been positive about her, most likely warning him to stay away from her. “That’s why I’d rather not talk about what happened at the trapper’s cabin.” Ted’s bear-like silhouette appeared in front of her as if he were a ghost. “Have you met Ted?”

  He shook his head.

  “He walks around with a bearskin…you might have seen him in the forest?”

  “I have. He doesn’t want anyone around.” He laughed. “He even tried his ghost tricks on me, although I suspect it was to divert me away from some shady business. Typical person to be involved in illegal logging, or trapping, all the same to him.”

  “He didn’t come across like that. He likes trees and nature very much.”

  In a strange way, Maggie felt as if he had attacked a member of her pack. Perhaps it was because both Adam and Arthur had taken it upon themselves to help him. She was well aware her emotional side was dominating in this instance. Ted had voiced his dislike for anyone lurking around his place and was therefore likely to be the ghost himself.

  She had no proof, and now that he had vanished, it was even harder to conclude anything. His mysterious riddle, for a start—all it could mean for now was that he had information about the death that might be crucial, and yet he chose to make them guess it. Why?

  Stuart had picked up her camera again, which she had set aside after taking pictures of Tiger. Maggie stared at him angrily.

  “You managed to capture Tiger well…” Ignoring Maggie’s attempt to speak, he said, “It sounds like Ted has been up to his old tricks. I know that kind of person. I just need to meet them once. Very good at triggering empathy, such a lonely person…in the meantime, he gets what he wants out of you and will dump you as soon as he thinks you’re no longer of any use to him.”

  “I thought you weren’t interested in Tiger’s pictures.” Once again Maggie took the camera from his hands. “And you seem to have a grudge against this Ted without knowing him well.”

  “Grudge? No, but I’ve got ears in many places. I wanted to warn you to keep safe and out of all this business. You can tell Adam Clarkson, the game warden, that I might have information for him on the illegal logging he has identified.”

  Maggie looked at him, surprised.

  “You see, I might be useful to you. I know you want to help him.”

  She felt her cheeks warm up. Was she such an open book? How could he know this, unless they had been observed when they were camping in the forest…?

  He laid the payment in cash on the chair, then picked up a wriggling Tiger. “Stay out of this affair, for your own sake. Let the professionals deal with it. Am I clear?”

  Was it a threat or a friendly warning? His tone was fierce. Maggie didn’t say a word. She was upset by his behavior. She didn’t like this man, but then again, she had had friction with Sergeant Humphries in the past. Perhaps police officers, mainly seeing the sad and evil side of humanity, tended to become protective as they grew older. Sergeant Humphries and even Raj had warned her to keep away.

  She was perplexed by his knowledge. When she let the idea of an illegal logging site slip as they spoke about Ben Fearon, he seemed surprised, which didn’t make sense in the context of the discussion. She hadn’t specified anything, and yet it appeared Sergeant Humphries had shared a lot more information than she would have imagined, given the proximity of the loggers’ camp to the site of suspicious death. As far as she knew, Adam had talked to Sergeant Humphries about the illegal logging, but not to the loggers. They hadn’t seen anyone when they came across the clear-cut clearing, and if they had, the wolves wouldn’t have stuck around.

  She managed a wave of the hand and a small “Bye” as Stuart walked out of her studio, little Tiger looking over his shoulder at her with pleading eyes.

  Maggie picked up the cash. She had been too flabbergasted even to react to it. Somehow it felt more like a payoff for her silence than a payment for her work. She went to her phone, eager to speak with Adam about the encounter. Perhaps he had already spoken to Stuart, which would make her own suspicions seem ludicrous.

  The phone rang for a long time.

  “Hey, Maggie. What’s up?”

  Straight away, Adam’s deep voice had a soothing effect on her.

  “Why is it that you always know when I want to discuss something with you?”

  Adam laughed. “Because I know you. You always have something to discuss!”

  “It’s about illegal loggi—” Maggie heard a voice and laughter in the background. “Am I disturbing you? I can call back, it’s not that urgent.”

  Away from the receiver, she heard a muffled and faint, “Stop now, later. I should answer this.”

  “But you promised, and I only have an hour free now…”

  Could she have heard Brigit’s voice? It was a woman’s voice. Maggie asked, “Are you at work?”

  “No, I’m with Brigit. Why don’t you come over tonight for a bite at my place? We can discuss anything you’d like.”

  “Good idea! I’d like that.”

  “Oh, and Brigit just told me she’ll be there too. That way you can talk about photography with her. She is very keen on the idea of a Canadian wilderness photography workshop.”

  Maggie couldn’t back off now. She wanted to face her dragon at some point; no use postponing the inevitable. “Sure, the more the merrier. What about poor Barrie? I think he needs some cheering up.”

  “Sure, but why is that? Anything I should know?” Adam asked.

  “Ask him tonight. It relates to Ben Fearon and his girlfriend, that’s all I can say. Can I bring anything?” Maggie scanned the contents of her fridge in her mind. “Before you say no, I’ll bring my special pumpkin gratin. It’s the season.”

  After Adam gave his approval, she bid him goodbye till the evening. She rushed to her computer to download all the pictures from her camera, eager to see what she had really captured.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sergeant Humphries was upset and confused. He reread the final toxicology report that had been altered following his constable’s insistence on getting the lab to check for carbon monoxide poisoning, because of particles of smoke in the cabin… He had accepted, thinking that it would only confirm his initial conclusion that the victim was poisoned by mushrooms.

  The omelet did contain toxic mushrooms, but no toxic plant had so far been isolated. Ben Fearon had a high level of alcohol in his blood, which together with the food poisoning could have rendered him unconscious before the CO build-up. The report was clear Ben Fearon had a very low level of oxygen in the blood, which couldn’t have been from the alcohol or from eating the mushrooms. He died from CO poisoning.

  But how likely was it that the old stove would have caused the CO poisoning? Yes, it was a smoky stove, but Maggie and Adam were adamant that when they arrived, the door to the cabin was open. Someone else must have found him dead before they arrived and left the door open, out of fear or to cover up a murder…either that, or an animal… He would have to check with the forensic team whether they had any data that would explain the sequence of events.

  Sergeant Humphries shuffled through the notes his constable had taken from his encounter with Kate. How could she be the missing person and not have been at the trapper’s cabin? What if a different person than this Kate had been with Ben Fearon in the cabin and prepared the poisonous dish with the intention of killing him? Seeing the poisonous dish didn’t work, they finished their job with the CO. His view on the case was inching toward
murder, although he didn’t have the motives or proof for it yet.

  He was worried the search party had been called off too soon and had insisted two officers keep searching, this time with the excuse of looking for Ted. He pushed away the absurd conclusion drawn by the coroner, causing a stack of papers to fall off his desk.

  Sergeant Humphries gently put the back of his hand on his bald head. It was hot, a sign that his mild headache would be getting worse if he didn’t get some rest and put some ice on his head.

  He slid open the top drawer of his desk, took a painkiller, and walked out into the empty police station to fetch some ice from the fridge. The night shift officers hadn’t arrived yet. Still an hour to go. He shouldn’t have given leave to Constable Gupta so early that evening, but he didn’t want him to make too much overtime, especially now that the appraisals were approaching and he had very few hours of overtime himself.

  He put a bag of ice on his head, and as he stood up, he heard a knock against the glass door of the police station. He had kept it locked while he was in his office. Why not use the bell?

  It was Tina Partridge. Normally he was happy to speak with her, especially if it was about promoting his band, the Haystack Needles, in the Daily Stumble, but this time she had gone too far with her article in the morning paper. He had summoned her to speak to him about it as soon as he read its contents.

  The overall cotton wool feeling he had in his entire head had now turned into a throbbing pain just above his right eyebrow, down to the tip of his nose. He grumbled and unlocked the door for her.

  “Are you all right, Sergeant?” Tina looked at him with concern.

  “Yes, yes, a headache.”

  “Poor you. I know just the right thing. Go sit over there and take your jacket off.”

  Sergeant Humphries was of two minds; on the one hand, he wanted to get rid of his pain, and why not try something? On the other hand, he was upset with Tina. She shouldn’t have announced that the missing woman was found when the police weren’t sure of it themselves.