Final Act

by Dianne Yetman

  “Oh my God, Alexis. Did you see that? The person is holding a gun to the back of Hazel’s head. We’ve got to get help.”

  Alexis took one look at her friend’s shocked face and began to speak in a soft but firm voice.

  “Take your cell out of your purse, Susan. Kate’s home number is on speed dial.”

  Susan stared across the street at the slow moving vehicles.

  “Listen carefully, Susan. I want you to take your cell out of your purse and pass it to me.

  Susan turned towards her friend, nodded and reached into her purse.

  ***

  Across town, lights were blazing in the incident room, Shirley, along with half of the incident team were working overtime. She hadn’t checked her e-mail since she started her shift at 4:00pm. It could be such a waste of time -- meet you at the bar, feel good blurbs, crime stats, retirements, baby showers and the like but something niggled. She minimized her research page and opened the e-mail.

  The desk phone rang. It was Kate, an agitated, upset Kate.

  “Shirley, I’m on my way in, Roger’s in danger. Call Gordon and Withers and tell them to meet me at the precinct. Roger and the homeless woman, Hazel have been taken hostage.”

  The dial tone rang in her ears. Stunned, Shirley grabbed the emergency list of phone numbers and began to make the calls. Ten minutes later, Withers and Gordon on their way. She had started to make coffee when she heard Kate’s voice. Turning, she looked at the bed tossed detective, her hair all over her head, swelling on the eyelids, torn jeans, plaid blouse and ballet-like flats on her feet.

  “Did you get reach Gordon and Withers yet?”

  “Yes, they’re on the way in.””

  Five minutes later, the two men walked through the door. Kate ceased pacing and began to fill them in on what Alexis had told her.

  “Did you try Roger at home? The women are liable to be mistaken. It might not be him”, Gordon asked.

  “Yes, I did. No answer. He’s not home. It has to be him they saw. We can’t stand around here Gordon. Let’s go.”

  “Okay, first, I want you to calm down and listen to reason”, Gordon said. “How do we know he hasn’t tripped on the carpet and is lying injured in the townhouse?”

  “I radioed the nearest squad car and asked them to get the key from the caretaker who lives in the unit next to Roger. They did a walk through. He’s not at home.”

  “So maybe his mother or a member of his family is sick or something.”

  “No sir”, Shirley said. “I called his mother to see if Roger had dropped by. Tried not to alarm her, said I was going off shift in a couple of hours and needed to run something by him. Apparently she talked with him on the phone for ten minutes or so around 9 o’clock.”

  “I want to go downtown in an unmarked vehicle, Gordon”, Kate said. “Traffic is heavy, so it’s slow going but we have to move now.”

  Withers knew Kate was on her way, permission or not.

  “Okay, take Shirley with you. Make sure to keep in radio contact. We’ll send back up if necessary.”

  The two women were out the door before Gordon took another sip of his coffee. Shirley got in the passenger seat of the Ford sedan; Kate left the lot, tires squealing.

  Chapter 21

  Roger glanced in the rear view mirror and saw the gloved hand holding the gun to Hazel’s head. He couldn’t see the woman’s face; it was lowered and shrouded by the large dark hood. There was something about the voice though. He had heard that measured cadence of speech before. Keep talking, I’ll place you.

  “I’m going to lower the gun now and trust the two of you will behave. If you don’t, it only takes two seconds to lift it again and bang, her head’s gone!”

  Hazel let out a sigh as the pressure of the gun on her head disappeared.

  “We’re going to take a little ride to Point Pleasant Park. I expect you to drive without raising the concern of any police in patrol cars or the good citizens of Halifax.”

  Roger nodded. He knew the importance of silence and hoped Hazel would follow his lead. He looked at the line of cars in front of him. If they took their time in moving, it might take them a half an hour to reach the park. He needed to buy time. Ten minutes later, he drove past the Citadel, down the hill towards Barrington, and his heart leapt at the sight of all the cars. I’m not sure why the traffic is so bad, but I could kiss every one of the bumpers ahead of me.

  “Theatre goers. Thought they would be home long ago now but I guess drinks and conversation are de rigueur after the play”, the woman said. “And a very successful opening night it was too. Should have been there to see it you two, but then again, I’m glad you weren’t. Wouldn’t have had the pleasure of your company right now, would I?”

  The theatre, of course, that’s it. That’s where I heard your voice. I know who you are now. Stay cool, he told himself, don’t give her the satisfaction of seeing fear. It took him ten minutes to go twenty feet. Good, very good.

  He glanced over at Hazel who sat quietly staring straight ahead at the line of cars. Love you girl, you’re a smart, savvy woman. He made a promise to himself that he would try to get her out of this somehow. He tried not to think about what lay in store for the two of them in the park.

  The killer had obviously given a lot of thought as to where she would do the deed. No better place than the park, especially this time of night. Dark, heavily wooded, isolated. The patrol car runs through twice at night, usually between 10:00pm and 7:00am, and one would have made its rounds already.

  The movie, The Onion Field, a true story about two cops who were cruelly executed flashed in his mind. Best not to go there. A sound interrupted his thoughts. It took him a few minutes to realize the killer was drumming fingers on the back leather seat. It’s time to start a conversation and keep her occupied. It will bring her stress level down.

  “Got a question for you?”

  “And what would that be Roger?”

  “What have I done to piss you off? Why do you have it in for me?”

  “You know, I first saw you at the theatre the night Jeffrey left this cruel world, I knew you were an intelligent man; it was in your face, the way you handled yourself, your eyes missing nothing. Except one thing – the resemblance, you never picked it up, did you? You don’t even get it now, do you?”

  He could hear her voice rising in anger. Not a place he wanted her to be. He thought fast and hard as he moved through the next set of lights. The bottle neck was beginning to ease. I owe you such an apology Kate. I only hope I live to give it.

  “It was your daughter I drove home that night, wasn’t it Eleanor. She was into the drugs wasn’t she?”

  “You’re lying. I know the difference. Sybil told me how you treated her. You got her high on drugs, raped her and walked her up to the front door, whispering threats in her ear. I saw you.”

  Good God, the daughter must have been as crazy as the mother.

  “She killed herself you know. Drove her car over the cliff, it was no accident. I found the note she left behind. I didn’t share it with the authorities who investigated the accident or her father. Donald’s a useless bastard, good for bringing money in, that was it. He never spent any time with Sybil. It was left to me, the same as everything else. I protected her good name and I made a vow I to revenge her death. I took my time, two years, planned carefully. You’re the last one to go Roger.”

  “I’m sorry, Eleanor. Losing a daughter must have been very painful.”

  “Don’t waste your breath patronizing me, and don’t think she committed suicide over a loser like you, no, what you did was put the first notch in her despair that led her to hurtle off that cliff.”

  Roger drove through the last set of lights and turned onto the street that led to the park. There were fewer street lights now to penetrate the darkness. He looked over at Hazel. She extended he
r hand and gave his thigh a squeeze. Then he heard the sound of drumming fingers resumed.

  “Why did Jeffrey have to die, Eleanor?”

  “Jeffrey. The male slut seduced Sybil. She was only 16 years old, and he was 55. You bruised her heart; he broke it. She was carrying his little bastard. I knew she was pregnant, running to the bathroom in the morning, missing school because she was sick. Her father behaved like an old woman, pacing and pleading with her to go for tests to find out why she was so sick. Stupid man, he never could see anything past the profit sign. I arranged for the abortion.”

  “And Catherine, why did she have to die?”

  “She knew Jeffrey seduced Sybil and did nothing. Sybil told me Catherine came home earlier than expected from a trip and walked in on the two of them. She stood in the doorway staring at Sybil, said she was going to drive across town and expected her to be gone when she came back. That’s it. Not a word to the degenerate. Not a word to me. The moral slag could have saved my daughter but she didn’t. She deserved to die. The stupid bitch called and invited me over. She let me in, never asked about the hospital mask I removed from my face in her urgency to apologize for not taking action. It was hard to listen to her shit and wait for the opportune moment to inject her. It was worth the wait though.”

  “And Camira, what did she do to deserve death?”

  “That was fate; she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. She spotted me getting in the cab. I couldn’t let her stop me from killing Catherine. I laid her out as attractively as I could you know, like the set design arrangement of the actress who killed herself because the public had scorned her. It was a shame she had die; I liked her.”

  He drove past the container ships and into the park.

  “I know you had access to the poison that killed Jeffrey. But I’m curious, how did you get the morphine you injected Camira and Catherine with?”

  “Simple. I broke into the hospital and stole the drugs. Cased the place well, told them I was doing research for a play we were going to mount, and needed to have a look at how drugs were secured. I stored them in a cool, dry, safe place until I was ready to make my move.”

  As he was passing the canteen, she ordered him to circle around and park behind the building.

  Damn, she’s thought this out, no chance of anyone spotting the car until daylight.

  He turned the engine off. She instructed them both to step out of the car. Once outside, she motioned with the gun for them to start climbing the hill that led into the heavily treed woods. Roger took Hazel’s arm and helped her up the hill. When they came to the top, Eleanor directed them to the gravelled path to their left.

  There was a full moon. The night was clear and cold. Small rustling sounds could be heard in the woods but no human noises could be heard other than their own footsteps crunching on the gravel.

  Hazel broke the silence. “I’m glad I met you, Roger. You’re special; you see people. I can’t think of any better company I’d rather leave this world with.”

  He felt tears sting the back of his eyes. Life is so unfair. This woman took to the streets because of violence and its violence that will hurtle her off the streets.

  “I feel the same way, Hazel. You are a courageous woman, and a hell of a lot of fun to spend time with.”

  “Cut the sentimental speeches, you two. Turn right. We’ll start our descent now.”

  Roger guessed where she was leading them – close to the Dingle where her home is. She won’t even need to back track; that’s why she didn’t ask for the car keys. A fifteen minute walk on a moonlight night and she’s home.

  He slowed his pace, Hazel’s breathing was becoming more laboured, shallow sounding.

  “Give us a rest for 5 minutes, Eleanor. She won’t be able to go on without one.

  Her laughter raised the hairs on his neck.

  “Not likely.”

  “If you won’t give a rest, then I’m going to run. Do you really want the sound of a gun echoing down to the people star gazing in the cars on the waterfront? You won’t have time to make it home before you’re caught.”

  “Okay, five minutes.”

  Roger eased Hazel onto the fallen log. He looked down the path and longed for a cigarette. Gave them up eight years ago but now he wanted one, desperately. He thought about his car, how he would never race again, or drink beer with Randy, make love with Sara, or give his mother the grandbabies she wanted. It was too late. His thoughts must have carried him away for the next thing he heard was Eleanor telling him it was time to go.

  He walked over to Hazel who was struggling to get to her feet. The walk was downhill easier and the progress faster. Roger wanted to slow it down but knew he couldn’t. He knew each step they took brought them closer to death. Twenty minutes later they had made the descent. He could hear the waves hitting the shore.

  “We’re heading to the shelter area, it’s to your right”, Eleanor said.

  Roger and Hazel walked side by side into the wooden structure, stood against the back wall as instructed, turned and faced Eleanor. The hand holding the gun was steady.

  This reminds me of what happened to Dosteskii, brought before the firing squad, then reprieved at the last minute. Only difference, there will be no reprieve for Hazel and I.

  Blindfolds would have added a nice touch don’t you think”, Eleanor asked.

  Why is she talking and not pulling the trigger. If she’s in the mood for conversation, here goes.

  “Eleanor, you’re a reasonable woman. Hazel is an innocent woman. She did nothing to your daughter, she didn’t even know her. Why don’t you let her go? Do you think Sybil would approve of her death? I don’t think she would.”

  He could see doubt flit across her face and two seconds later, watched it die.

  “No, Sybil is still a child. She trusts her mother to take care of things. She doesn’t question my decisions. No, it won’t work Roger. I’m a reasonable woman but not a stupid one. Why would I leave a witness behind?”

  “I’m ready to go Roger. I’m tired. Besides, I got people waiting for me”, Hazel said.

  “Take two steps to the right, Hazel. Roger goes first”, Eleanor said.

  He watched her aim the gun and heard the shot. He fell to the ground and felt a great heaviness on his chest. He opened his eyes. Hazel was on top of him, her warm blood soaking into his jacket. She had taken the bullet for him. He waited for the second shot. It didn’t come. He rolled Hazel off him and ran. He could hear the sound of running feet close behind him. He zigged-zagged through the trees hoping to obstruct her aim.

  “Roger. Stop.”

  Is she crazy? I’ll stop when I see you in hell. He ran faster.

  “Roger, stop, you don’t have to run anymore. You’re safe.”

  Safe as partridge fleeing a fox. Does she think I lost my wits?

  His heart and lungs felt as though they would burst. He felt his right foot catch on the root of the tree and he slammed hard to the ground, the breath knocked out of him.

  Unable to move, he lay there and waited for the end. He could hear her running and minutes later saw the toes of her shoes next to his head. He breathed Hazel’s name, stared at the shoes and waited.

  What the hell? It wasn’t shoes he was looking at, it was ballet flats. He’d know those hot, pink satin flats anywhere. He had made fun of them once when she dashed out to his car to pass him a package for work.

  He took in a breath of air and managed to say, ‘Kate, is that really you?’ before he slipped into the encroaching darkness.

  Epilogue

  Kate, Roger, and Shirley stood together at the gravesite. Hanya, decked in full regalia – elb, stole and collar, performed the funeral rites. None of them saw Old Crow who stood watching from a distance. Once Hazel’s remains were laid to rest, Hanya said good bye to the mourners and left for the University to deliver a lect
ure.

  “I think Hazel would be pleased with this resting place”, Shirley said.

  “Of course, it’s on the crest of the hill with George’s Island, the harbour, and the Halifax waterfront laid out at her feet”, Kate said. “What’s not to like.”

  “I ordered the gravestoner”, Roger said. “It should be ready in two weeks. I have to let them know about the inscription by tomorrow. I’ve been racking my brains trying to come up something. I was prowling around the townhouse until well after midnight trying to come up with something suitable.”