Murder on the Docks

by H. Paul Doucette

  It was time for a break. Pete and I got up and headed out of the room, locking the door behind us. Before heading for the squad room, I instructed one of the uniforms milling around the front desk, to go get a sandwich and coffee and take them in to Jencks, and to make sure the door was locked when he left. I told Pete I was heading upstairs to see Morrison with what we just got and have him contact the Crown to get our warrants.

  Morrison was impressed with my results and said he’d get on to the Crown right away.

  “By the way,” he asked as I started to stand up. “What’s up with that other body, the one up in the railyards?”

  “We’ve had some uniforms canvassing the area, but as you know, the only people livin’ up that way near enough to have seen anythin’ are the Negroes in Africville. So far all they’ve managed to get is from one or two who say they think they saw someone, a man in a trench coat and a hat. Maybe a white man. They’re still checkin’.”

  “Hmm. You still thinking we’ve got another German agent?”

  I shrugged and said, “Makes sense given the area and time of the murder. Can’t think of any reason for anyone to be up there that time of day. I passed my thoughts onto Parks an’ Mulroney down at Intelligence. Parks is arranging for the army to set armed patrols on a twenty-four-hour basis.”

  “Better late than never, I suppose. Still, you did some good work today.”

  “Thank you, sir. ‘Preciate it.” I turned and left his office.

  Back in the squad room I sat down at my desk, Pete taking a chair in front of my desk.

  “Boss happy?” Pete said.

  I nodded.

  “Whaddya think?” he asked, settling in his chair and crossing his legs.

  “I think we jus’ closed the Slaunwhite murder an’ as a bonus, busted up the operations on the docks,” I said with a smile. “Not bad work for one day.”

  “I agree,” Pete said. “but he didn’t give us anything we can use to nail Laurier.”

  “He will. He’s definitely scared ‘bout a hangin’ charge over his head.”

  “That was a neat trick, threatenin’ him like that. Good thing the guy’s thick as a brick an’ hasn’t dealt with any lawyers or he would’ve called your bluff.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Been my experience guys like him aren’t to bright even want a lawyer. But one thing I picked up on was he sounded more afraid of talkin’ ‘bout Laurier than what we could do to him.”

  Pete nodded. “Yeah, I noticed that too. Didn’t think Laurier had that much clout.”

  “Me either,” I said, agreeing with him. “I think it’s something I need to get Phil to dig a lot deeper on with his people in Montreal. I got a feelin’ that Laurier is more connected than we knew, maybe even outside the city.”

  “The mob?”

  “Maybe. More likely the French mob outta Marseilles.”

  A funny look crossed Pete’s face.

  “The Unione Corse,” I said. “That’s what they’re called. Operates similar to the mafia. I heard about them when I was workin’ in Boston. Some sorta connection between them an’ the mafia, mostly to do with the heroin trade.”

  “So, if he’s connected to this bunch then that means they’ve here in Canada.”

  “Yeah. Way we heard it, they’re suppose to be in Montreal.”

  “Jesus. You think Laurier’s part of this, what’d you call it, Unione Corse?”

  I nodded. “It’s a possibility. That’s one of the things I’m hopin’ Phil will clue us in on.”

  “Jesus,” he said again, then, “speakin’ of our brother, you plannin’ on sharin’ this information with him?”

  “Uh-huh. Our main interest was identifyin’ Slaunwhite’s killer, which we now know. This other business is interestin’ to be sure and needs to be shut down, but it falls more-or-less in his bailiwick. Afterall, theft in time of war is more a federal crime than local.”

  “Okay. So, when you goin’ to give it to him?”

  “Later today. I wanna lean on Jencks some more, see if I can get what we need to go after Laurier.”

  “So, what now?’

  “First. Lets grab a bite of lunch. Then you go back to Hollister’s place. Maybe we’ll get lucky an’ Kline’ll be there. Take a car and a uniform with you. If he’s not there, go back to the south end an’ lean on someone.”

  “That’s a longshot — Hollister’s place. You think he’d be that dumb?”

  “Maybe. I gotta gut feelin’ he’s on the run, an’ an’ if Jencks is to be believed, he doesn’t have many safe or trusted places he can go without someone rollin’ him over. I think his best shot for help is sittin’ in a room down the hall. That leaves only the woman. An’ while you’re checkin’ out the Hollister’s place I’ll have another talk with Jencks, then call Phil.”

  “Okay,” Pete said, standing up. “You wanna meet later?”

  “Yeah, say ‘round four unless you get lucky.”

  “Works for me. Let’s eat.”

  We headed out of the station. It had clouded over and there was still a stiff wind coming down from the Basin, but I didn’t mind. It was turning out to be a good day and I was feeling pretty good.

  Later, when I returned to the station, it was filled with a crowd of angry men yelling and swinging at each other. Most were dressed in civilian clothes, however, mixed among them were several men in uniforms, mostly Navy. There were about a half dozen of our men with their nightsticks out trying to break up the scrappers and get control over the chaos.

  I was about half way through the mob when one of the civilians took a wild swing at my head. Lucky for me I saw it coming and managed to get out of his reach; he didn’t have enough room to put his full weight into the punch, which was a good thing, because he was a brute of a man, and if it had connected...

  The scuffle quickly gained some momentum and I found myself duking it out with a couple of seamen. Luckily, I came out ahead and dropped one of them quickly with a solid right to his midriff. The other one managed to clip me on the cheekbone, but not hard enough to do anything. I took care of him with a sharp knee to his groin, after which, he surprisingly managed to stay on his feet, but otherwise was finished. Several other officers had finally arrived, and the scuffle was soon under control.

  It took over twenty minutes to get control inside the cramped space in front of the desk. When it was over, several men were down, dazed but still conscious. Two of our men had bloodied faces but otherwise were okay. I took a few hits myself, mostly to my body. Otherwise, nothing serious... fortunately. My cheek started to hurt, and I suspected that by tomorrow I’d have a bruise for my efforts.

  Some of the officers were cuffing the worst of the mob. I later heard the trouble began outside with a confrontation between a group of civilians and several merchantmen over something or other. The sailors seemed to have gotten drawn into the dispute by accident.

  I finally made it back to my office and grabbed a coffee before heading back to the interview room for another talk with Jencks. When I got there; I saw the door was ajar. I looked inside, the room was empty. I returned to the front area and looked for the cop I assigned to keep an eye on Jencks. I spotted him standing over three men sitting on the floor and went over to him.

  “Where’s my prisoner?” I demanded, when I reached him.

  “Sir?” he said, snapping his head to the side to look at me. He still had his nightstick in his hand. I could see he was still stoked from the fight.

  “My prisoner. Where is he?”

  “He’s not in the room?” he asked stupidly, getting a grip on himself.

  “No, he’s not in the room,” I snapped.

  “Uh, he was there when I brought him back from the loo.”

  “Did you lock him in?”

  “Uh...uh...,” he stammered.

  “This isn’t the time for ‘uh’, bucko. Think. What happened?”

  “He said he needed to go so I took him down the hall to the loo. When he was done, I took him back
to the room an’ put him inside.”

  “Yeah...and?”

  “That’s when the ruckus broke out an’ I heard the sergeant call for all available officers and went to see what was goin’ on.”

  “So, you didn’t lock the door?”

  “I...I, um, I thought I did,” he said, sounding worried. “Am I in trouble?”

  I glared at him for several moments before answering.

  “We’ll see. This will be put in your personnel file,” I said. “For now, you write up a report about this an’ put it on my desk before you end your shift. Understand?”

  “Yes sir,” he said, looking abashed but slightly relieved.

  I went to the front desk and instructed the duty officer to put out an all points alert for Jencks then pushed my way back to my office feeling really pissed off. My only solid witness to the killing and the business on the docks was gone. This meant a bigger problem for me: would he try and hook up with Kline and fill him in on what we had on him? Would he help him get away? Or would he just protect his own hide and try and get away on his own?

  So much for this being a good day.

  The Coroner’s report on the murdered man up in the railyards at the Basin was sitting on my desk when I sat down, rubbing my sore cheek. I opened it and scanned the document. It contained the usual information. I went straight to the summary not expecting much more information from what we already surmised.

  AUTOPSY SUMMARY

  Victim’s name: Jerome Richards

  Age: 63

  Height: 5’ 7”

  Weight: 189 lbs

  General health: Overweight, high cholesterol, signs of liver damage due to excess alcohol; indications of cancer from chronic smoking and, early signs of heart problems.

  Cause of death: a single puncture wound to the heart by a weapon four to six inches in length with distinguishing features, ‘see sketch.’

  Next of Kin: None

  Autopsy performed by: Dr Phillip Cavenaugh, Pathologist, Victoria General Hospital

  There was more in the report, mostly medical information which I didn’t really need. I dropped the document on the desk, reached for the phone and dialled. Three rings later Mulroney answered.

  “It’s Robie,” I said, after he answered.

  “Hi. You sound ticked off. What’s up?” Mulroney asked.

  “Jus’ lost a key witness in my murder investigation. Sonofabitch jus’ up an’ walked out.” I gave him a quick recap of what happened then went on to the reason for the call.

  “Sorry about that,” he said when I finished. “Anything I can do to help?”

  “Thanks, but I got it covered. The bugger doesn’t have many options to get away.”

  “Okay. By the way, I was about to call you in a bit, so this call is well timed.”

  “Yeah? What’s up?”

  “I heard back from Montreal on your request for more information on Laurier. Looks like the reason we didn’t have anything useful on him is because he was operating there under a different name. They made a connection to another character they’ve been looking at, a man named Pierre Lesarde. Seems he fits the same description as Laurier.”

  “So, you’re thinking that Laurier and this Lasarde are the same man, and Laurier is an alias?”

  “It’s a working theory,” Mulroney said.

  “How’d they make the connection?”

  “One of our men decided to ask someone in our criminal investigation section if they had anything on someone fitting Laurier’s description. That’s when they hit on Lasarde. Anyway, this Lasarde turned up in Montreal about five years ago from Europe. We think he’s one of a network of contacts representing the French mob in Marseilles.”

  “You’re talkin’ ‘bout the Unione Corse, right?” I asked.

  “No dust on you is there,” he said, sounding impressed.

  “Name came up a coupla times when I was working on the Boston force,” I said.

  “Interesting. Makes sense though. We think there’s a connection with them and Luciano’s mob in New York and their drug trafficking interests.”

  “That’s was the word we had. Okay, this information helps some, but I don’t think he’s here to set up any kind of operation for their heroin business.”

  “I agree. My best guess would be that he was starting to feel the heat from our investigations and decided to disappear for a while. Halifax looked like the best place to go, especially now that we are at war.”

  “And being a criminal, he couldn’t resist the opportunity to cash in.”

  “You got it. But we haven’t been able to tie anything to him. He’s covered his tracks expertly.”

  “Well, maybe what I have for you will change all that,” I said, and proceeded to give a detailed rundown on everything Jencks gave me.

  When I finished, he said, “Christ, this’ll put a significant dent into the problems we been working on. Great work.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “I guess this means that you’re goin’ to take an interest in Laurier?”

  “Yeah, afraid so. Sorry. I know you really wanted to be the one to take him down.”

  “Hey, anything that’ll shut him down and put him away works for me.”

  “Yeah, me too. By the by, that was a neat trick you used to squeeze Jencks. You really are a devious bastard.”

  “Pete said the same thing.”

  “So, why did you call?” Mulroney asked.

  “Mostly to pass along the information I jus’ gave you and ‘ ‘bout the other dead man...the one found in the Basin the other night. I jus’ got the Coroner’s report.”

  “Uh-huh. Anything we don’t already know?”

  “Not really. Like I said the last time we talked, the doctor who did the autopsy pointed out an irregularity regardin’ the murder weapon, remember?”

  “Yeah. Something about it being similar to the type of knife used by commandos.”

  “That’s it. Anyway, he indicates that the blade used was definitely distinctive and even supplied a sketch of what it probably looks like. It is definitely not a blade you would usually find or be that easy to lay your hands on. So, that means we’re lookin’ at either one of the foreign merchantmen or an agent. I’m puttin’ my money on an agent, which puts this one in your hands. I’m gonna send the report down to you by messenger.”

  “Hmm. I’m inclined to agree with you. We know from some of the German agents we’ve picked up that some like to use a hidden spring-loaded sticker on their forearms hidden out of sight.”

  “Interestin’. Have you received any more information from Montreal on this suspected agent?”

  “Not much,” Mulroney said. “We’ve sent a cable to MI5 and Special Branch at Scotland Yard for anything they might have.”

  “That’s pretty high up isn’t it? You think they’d have anythin’?” I asked.

  “They would have any intelligence on what the Germans are up to from their underground networks on the Continent.”

  “Makes sense. Anyway, thought I’d give you a head’s up on the Basin incident. You should get the document within the hour.”

  “Okay, and thanks.”

  “No sweat. Now I gotta go an’ try an’ catch Jencks.”

  “Good luck,” Mulroney said.

  “Yeah,” I said wearily as I hung up, thinking how this day could get any worse.

  Suddenly the phone rang, and I picked up the receiver.

  “Robichaud,” I snapped into the receiver.

  “Robie,” the voice said, “it’s me, Martin, on the duty desk.

  “Sorry, Martin. Didn’t mean ta bark at ya,” I said.

  “That’s okay,” he said. “I heard what that bonehead did. I already scalded his arse pretty good for it. Anyway, why I called. I jus’ got a call from some woman up the north end. Sez she saw a man runnin’ down the road with another one shootin’ at ‘im.”

  “Where was this?”

  “Up on Leeds near Robie. Her address is number 35. Name is Mrs. Humbolt.
”

  “An’ she sez she saw a man shootin’ at another one?”

  “Who was on the run down the street,” Martin said.

  “You send anyone?”

  “Not yet. Wanted ta run it by you first ‘cause of that murder you’re workin’.”

  “Okay. Has Pete taken off yet?”

  “Ten minutes ago. Took Billy Watson with him.”

  “Okay. Whose the nearest patrol car?”

  I heard him shuffle some papers. “Joe Wilson. He’s up by the barracks on Brunswick. Want me to call ‘im in?”

  “Yeah. Tell ‘im to pick me up out front in ten minutes. I’ll fill ‘im in on the way.”

  “Okay,” he said.

  “Thanks. Oh yeah, one more thing, make sure you got an all points alert out for Jencks.”

  “Already in da works.”

  “Figured as much,” I said, smiling as I hung up.

  Chapter Ten

  The drive up to the Humbolt place was slow, as usual. This part of town was always busy with military traffic especially when a convoy was forming up. My driver, Constable Wilson was a man in his late thirties with a ruddy complexion. One of the many men we had on the force these days with deferred status as our young men enlisted or were seconded into service. We didn’t talk much on the drive. I was still feeling miffed about Jencks. Once we were in the neighborhood of the Humbolt address I told Wilson to stay in the car when we got there.

  We arrived up at the home of the woman who called in the shooting. The house was a small bungalow with a well-maintained front yard. Her husband probably worked in management for some company or bank. I climbed the four steps up on to the porch and rapped on the jamb beside the etched frosted glass panel set into the door. I spotted a small brass name plate beside the door: Mitchell and Laverne Humbolt embossed on it.

  A few moments later the door opened, and I was greeted by an attractive woman in her early forties. She stood about five-foot-three and was well dressed, with just enough makeup and care to accent her natural beauty.