She continued her scan and her eyes rested on Henry Ward, and Andrew Wilkins, who were in deep conversation, both of them looking a bit anxious. Strange liaison, she thought, but then again, maybe not. Camira had told her something about the two of them. What was it? It was shortly after she had landed her role as Maggie. The memory, like a fickle butterfly, flitted through her mind, landing for mere seconds before disappearing again, leaving two words behind – conspiracy, jinxed. She sighed. Oh well, like Grandma always said, leave it steep, and you’ll have your brew.
She moved on and observed the two attractive, middle-aged women. They have to be the ones Kate told me about. I can’t think of anyone else who would fit the description of being in their mid-fifties, one reserved, the other not; one a red head and the other tall with a black/grey mix of sculpted hair. Yes, it has to be them, let me think, what were their names, Susan, Alexander? No, Alexis, that was it. They got mixed up in a case Kate and Roger were investigation and came close to ending up on slabs themselves. An intriguing mix of people, she thought they resembled assorted liquorice with all the different colours, shapes, sizes; no doubt some were soft and chewy, others tough, and of course, mustn’t forget the kind that leave an after taste.
She looked over at Kate, Roger, and Withers standing quietly in the corner sipping on their cups of tea. She studied Kate and sadness filled her heart. It’s got to be tough for her, after all, she has to consider me a suspect. What’s that saying? Always look closely at the person who discovers the body, especially one who had crawled up on the bed and lay down by the victim. Neatly explains the presence of my DNA on Camira.
Hanya smiled at Kate, decided one pastry wouldn’t hurt and walked over to the dessert table. She managed to pop a pastry into her mouth before reaching out to shake the proffered hand of the solemn looking young United Church minister who had just buried Jeffrey. She told herself to make nice, after all, she too was serious and solemn when she first wore a collar.
Catherine, the widow, tried to sit up straighter in the wing chair which was placed a bit left to the centre of the room. Her posture was loose, swaying each time a person bent to offer condolences. The blackness of her dress and shoes contrasted dramatically with the whiteness of her face. Not a hair on her head was out of place, it stood as stiff and lacquered as a bowl of meringue. Her eyes were liquid, swimming with the effects of the drugs; her body swaying back and forth in the armchair.
Alexis, like Hanya, surveying the room, drew closer to Susan.
“The room’s crowed”, Alexis said, “but given how well known he was, I’m surprised at the numbers. I thought the funeral and reception would be much larger.”
“This is a private affair, close friends and family. The public memorial is scheduled for sometime in November and believe me, it’ll be a spectacle. Those who love to be seen will be there, together will all the celebrity freaks, of course”, Susan said.
“I hope Catherine will be in better shape by then.”
“It’s very strange behaviour for Catherine. She’s going to have one drug hangover once she returns to the land of the living. I’ve never known her to take as much as an aspirin, but a murdered husband, who’s to judge. Oh look, there’s Eleanor standing off to the side looking as murderous as Lizzie, minus the axe. We should join her before she explodes.”
Eleanor, eyes fixed on Catherine, didn’t notice the two women approach. What the hell is wrong with Catherine, drugged out of her head? Disgusting, and in front of her children too. Surely she can’t be grieving over the bastard. God, how many of my silk blouses served as hankies for the tears she shed over that man. Wail to me then run back to him. What a fool I was to waste my time in tea and sympathy these past years. I’d thought the woman had more backbone. She pulled her gaze away from the comatose Catherine when she saw Alexis and Catherine heading straight for her. Just what she needed, the energizer bunny and her flashlight.
June Grayson, hair, like a true stylist, all over the place, had managed to break free from Charlotte and helped herself to another glass of white wine. She shot a glance at Withers but it was impossible to catch his eye. She was puzzled, didn’t think she had misread the sign of interest. She put it down to the wishful thinking of the heart of a divorced woman where hope springs eternal.
June knew as much about Withers as any of his colleagues. She knew he was a bachelor, lived alone somewhere in the burbs, had a passion for motorcycles, loved to race them on the dark highways late at night thanks to the information provided by one of her faithful customers, Constable Shirley Proctor.
“Are you alright Withers?” Kate asked. “You’re flushed and your breathing isn’t great. Are you coming down with the flu?”
“No, it’s the tea; doesn’t agree with me.”
“I’ll get you a drink of water.”
“No. I’ll be fine.”
Roger listened to their conversation and bit his lip. What’s with Kate these days? Figured she’d twig to what’s wrong with Withers before anyone else, this woman needs to get out more. He munched on his tiny sandwich, the kind his aunt would make when the Baptist minister came to call. So tiny, they slid down his throat without hitting his taste buds. He took three, downed them at once and decided it was time to help alleviate Wither’s misery. Poor bastard, he’s tormented just being in the same room as June Grayson. This kind of situation needs the work of a pro matchmaker like my Aunt Gertrude. She could persuade a fox to mate with a rabbit. He turned to Kate.
“Withers and I could be working on those background checks Shirley needs help with. If we left now, we can get in a couple of hours before the evening shift comes on. You mind finishing up here on your own?”
“Go ahead; I’m going to be taking off shortly myself. Withers, pay attention to that reaction, your throat starts to swell, get to the hospital.”
A relieved Withers and a smug Roger made their exit.
Kate decided to mingle. She walked over to Eleanor who was standing next to a dark haired young woman who was introduced herself as Brenda Parsons. So this is the bubbly Brenda, Withers spoke about. Kate murmured something about how sad it must be for Jeffrey’s family.
“Yes, very sad”, Brenda said. “You only have to look at Catherine to see how much pain she is in.”
“Did you know them well”, Kate asked.
“We met socially from time to time. Jeffrey invited my husband, Jim and me, to dinner just the other week. He and Catherine were perfect hosts. They were a lovely couple.”
“I understand you’re a writer.”
“Yes. I have written a couple of one act plays. One of my biggest fans was Jeffrey; we talked collaborating on a script some day.” A look of sadness crossed her broad, freckled face, but no tears. “But that was not to be.”
“I’m sure we will be reading your books someday, Brenda”, Eleanor said.
“Are you planning on staying with the theatre group”, Kate asked.
“I want to but it depends on whoever is in charge of the next production.”
Eleanor and Brenda started tossing around names. Kate excused herself and drifted over to join Hanya and the dour looking man dressed in black.
Henry made his way to the men’s room and splashed cold water on his face. His body ached from the lack of sleep and dark circles ringed his eyes. He had spent most of the evening sipping scotch and struggling with the short address he had delivered. The drinks he had weren’t helping. Red blotches covered his neck and face. He couldn’t stand to see her suffer like this. The bastard didn’t deserve it. He’d make it up to her once a decent interval had passed. He dried his face with a paper towel and went back to the reception.
Andrew stood by the heavy drapes drawn across the window looking at Kate talking with the large women who spent most of her time standing by the food table. He strolled over, introduced himself and joined the conversation. He lucked out when Jeffrey�
�s son came to speak with the two preachers. He was alone with Sgt. Kate.
“Would you like a cup of coffee (back rub, ear nibbled, sleep over)”, he asked.
“No, thanks”, Kate said. “Excuse me; I was on my way to speak with Catherine.”
He sighed and feasted his eyes on the untouchable as she made her way to say good-bye to the widow. Why the hell do I bother to torture myself, he wondered? I’m a damn suspect and she’s a cop but, oh, such a delectable cop.
An hour later the room started to empty. June helped the staggering Charlotte to James’ car.
“Thanks so much, June,” Charlotte said, “I do appreciate your assistance. Rather appropriate, don’t you think, my hair and makeup assistant giving me assistance.” She laughed loud and long. James rolled his eyes at June as Charlotte hoisted herself into the front seat.
Witnessing the impact Big Daddy and Big Mama made on the two front tires, June turned her head, waved to a departing mourner, then leaned in the window and gave the tee-totalling James a quick kiss, waved a good-bye to an oblivious Charlotte and walked to the nearest bus stop.
Kate and Hanya stood together on the front door step. “So did you drop the net in hopes of catching a killer”, Kate asked.
“No, I decided it wasn’t appropriate. Today was for paying tribute to Jeffrey Stone and his life.”
“Good choice. Leave the rest to us.”
She gave Kate a kiss on the cheek, said goodbye, and promised to repent of her lie later. She had dropped her bombshell in every ear except Kate’s and Catherine’s.
“Can I give you a lift”, Kate asked.
“No, I think I’ll head over to the office. It’s only a ten minute walk from here.”
Kate stood and watched her friend leave. She grabbed her keys out of her purse, lowered her head to hide the tears, and walked to the car. Weaving her way in and out of traffic, she made her way to the precinct. Having shied away from the buffet table and nothing in her tummy since breakfast this morning, she was ravenous.
Leaving her car in the underground parking lot, she headed for Toni’s Deli. A place avoided by all on or off on duty police. She had no choice. After all, it’s impossible to screw up a ham and swiss cheese sandwich.
She was wrong. She tossed the 3 day old sandwich in the garbage and reached for her stash of jelly beans. Roger opened the office door, stuck his head in and asked her if she wanted anything to eat. He and Withers were going downtown to Ernie’s Pizza.
Her response was a loud “yes”.
She pulled out the folder containing all the copies of interviews conducted to date. There has to be something buried somewhere, some small clue that could break the case wide open.
She stopped reading long enough to eat her delivered pizza. The thoughts of last night running through her head curbed her appetite. She forced herself to keep eating. The talk about their relationship had been painful for both her and David but she stuck to her guns. They agreed to take a break, he hopeful of reconciliation that wasn’t going to happen. He left as soon as they agreed on the temporary halt. The sight of his bowed head as he walked out the door hurt her. Life sucks, she thought, as she hurled the half eaten pizza in the garbage.
She refocused on the files. Forty minutes later, she stumbled across an interesting piece of information. Eleanor had mentioned the death of her teenage daughter but she didn’t mention that she may have been under the influence of drugs while driving the car. She had been prescribed anti-depressants by a doctor and there had been no restriction against operating a motor vehicle while taking the drug. Still, Kate thought, youth, drugs, and car accident - a lethal combination. Was it more than an accident? It was something to explore.
She looked over at Roger who had just hung up the phone. He spoke before she had a chance to.
“Report’s in from the taxi driver who had picked up the mysterious passenger outside the theatre. The guy can’t say if it was a man or woman, hat pulled down to eyes, no hair visible, talked in a low, monotone voice, said it reminded him of an actor’s voice, whatever that’s supposed to mean. The passenger asked to be dropped off by the bus terminal building in Dartmouth, didn’t say another word, threw a $20 bill at him, and left. The last thing he saw was his passenger climbing the long hill up towards the intersection.”
“Is it a residential area?”
“Once you get past the intersection. We’re dealing with a very crafty mind, Kate. We can’t be sure if the perp even lives in Dartmouth and we don’t know if it’s a he or she.”
“He or she will slip up and we’ll be waiting.”
She pulled out the sheet of information on Eleanor’s daughter but Roger was standing. “I’m off to talk with the research scientist at the Darmouth hospital about hydrogen cyanide. I want as much information about it as possible before speaking with Donald Sutton. I’ll grab a bite then I’m off to turn the screw a little tighter on Henry Ward. He’s hiding something and I need to pop him. I’ll be back to the precinct tonight, not sure when.”
“Okay. I’ve found something that needs looking into. I’ll tell you about it tonight. I’m meeting with one of the theatre’s Board members to look at his personnel record. I’ve set up a time to speak with the New York Producer who worked closely with Jeffrey Stone for the past ten years this evening at 7:00pm. Catch you sometime after that.”
The office door closed and Kate returned to reading the files.
***
Kate and Roger sat across from each other, fresh cups of coffee from the deli, in their hands. They began their debrief.
“I got an interesting phone call while you were out getting coffee. Paul, my partner at the Drug Squad, called earlier. The word on the street is someone’s out to do me harm. Christ, I’ve been off the squad for two years now, and as far as anyone knows, my cover was never blown. It’s got to be a hoax.”
“I remember Paul from my rookie days. Always seemed to have his feet on the ground. I can’t see him sharing anything he didn’t think had substance. Did he say anything else?”
“No, said he’d keep me posted.”
“Did you mix with many powerful players when you were on the squad?”
“No. The squad doesn’t let anyone get too close to the big boys until they got a lot of experience under their belts, there’s too much to lose if something goes wrong. I was a side player, hanging out at the clubs, monitoring the young crowd, seeing who was who. Most of the kids were out for a good time. The serious users were on the street, not in the nightclubs.”
“Meet anyone you knew?”
“No. In my neighbourhood, they didn’t play with drugs, they took them very seriously. The ones I watched were a different breed altogether. I helped one mixed up kid one evening. Watched how the two guys she was with were setting her up. Followed them out to the parking lot, scared the shit out of the punks, and drove her home. She got out of the car without so much as a thank you. Lived in one of those homes a few miles from your neighbourhood, can’t remember what street it was now. There was someone behind the curtain in the upstairs watching though. I walked the girl to the front door and never laid eyes on her again.”
“Watch your back, Roger. Don’t take any risks.”
“The squad’s got my back. If someone wants me, they’ll smoke them out. I’m not worried. What have you got your head buried in?”
“Interview files. There’s something we’re not seeing. We should have had our finger on the pulse by now. I don’t have a good feeling about this one, Roger. I noticed...”
“Don’t go getting all superstitious on me. Something’s bound to turn up soon. Look, I’m tired, let’s finish this in the morning and pack it in for the night?”
“Sounds good. Do you want a drive?”
“No, I’m going to type up my interview report on Ward before heading out, besides the fresh air will do me good. It’s
only a ten minute walk.”
She watched him open his briefcase that was covered in racing decals and take out his notes. “Okay. See you tomorrow.”
Seven minutes later, Kate pulled out of the precinct parking lot, tac spinning. In less than ten minutes, she was sliding into her spot in the condo’s underground parking. A slow jog up the flight of steps, fast walk across the lobby, key out of pocket and into door, lights switched on. She stood and listened. Silence. David didn’t come back. She wrote on the paper by her phone, call locksmith, and headed for her beloved shower.
***
It was two hours later that a tired Roger put the finishing touches on his report, turned the lights off, and waved good-night to the Duty Sergeant in lobby. The night air was cool, refreshing as he hoped. The sidewalk was congested with people pouring out of the Metro Centre after the Rock concert, it had been a wet one judging by the high spirits of the crowd.
At the thought of spirits, he quickened his pace and sprinted down the hill, past the row of nightclubs and bars, to the next intersection. Only five minutes away from a cold glass of beer and the taped NASCAR race, he thought, as he waited for the light to change. He heard a shout, turned and saw a group of people hovered over a body lying on the sidewalk.
Damn, not now. Will this day never end?
He reached into his jacket for his cell. His gun and badge were locked away in his desk drawer but he doubted he would need either. As he approached the group, he slowed his pace and put his cell back in his pocket. The person wasn’t injured; he could see him smiling up at the gathered group, bunch of kids carrying on.
He had turned to go when the blow struck. As he sunk to the sidewalk, he saw the metal pipe directed towards his head. He tried to dodge it by turning to the right but something slammed into his gut; his body felt like it was packed in wet sand. He felt himself slipping away into darkness.
***
Hanya hung up the phone frustrated that Kate wasn’t answering at home or at the office. No sense waiting around, I’ll have to take the bull by the horns and pay them a visit myself. She didn’t like interfering with other people’s lives but what she heard had last night made her nervous.
Final Act Page 11
