Murder At Lake Ontario

by KATHY GARTHWAITE

  Francis (Frenchy) Cross was a petite woman, with a heart-shaped face and a short bob haircut. Between the wisps of her fine hair, Gibson could see a tiny Chinese symbol tattooed behind one ear. She wore a long green lab coat, buttoned tight to her neck and no jewelry except for one ring on her right pinky finger.

  “Hi, I’m Frenchy. I’ll get right to it. That’s why you’re here. Right?” She gave the slimmest of grins.

  Gibson nodded. He liked her already. All business. She looked smart too.

  “We have two pieces of evidence from the beach. Let’s start with the murder weapon. There is a partial print. So that’s good news.” Frenchy crossed to a counter halfway across the room. They followed. Top dog and puppy dogs right behind. She stood in front of a glass container with a rock inside. It was a light shade of crimson flecked with dark speckles. “This is an igneous rock. Mostly composed of granite. It’s an extremely tough, almost weatherproof stone. That’s ideal for us because obtaining a print from a nonporous rock is simpler. That doesn’t mean it won’t be difficult though. It will be.” She paused. “I won’t be able to lift a print until the blood is completely stabilized. It will be a few days. If I do it too soon, I’ll lose the clarity of the print at best. Might not get anything useful for you at the worst.”

  “Better to wait, then,” Gibson agreed.

  She shot him a glance as if to say, doesn’t matter what you think.

  “I’m not sure if you know this or not, but I’ll go over it for you anyway. We have a software development kit that provides multi-biometric fingerprint identification. The ID program matches prints whether they were taken flat or rolled. It’s quite a unique kit and very accurate. The finest available.” She drew in a breath. “If we could get the software to work, I’d be happy.”

  “Sorry about that.” A lanky young fellow leaped up from behind a partition. “I’m working on it.” He peered at them over wire-rimmed glasses and then retreated.

  “I know you’re doing your best.” She frowned.

  “Couldn’t we send everything to the RCMP Automated Fingerprint Identification System (AFIS) in Toronto?” Eckhart asked.

  “Oh, sure we could. And I will if we don’t get this thing fixed.”

  “I’ll get it soon.” A voice sounded from the corner.

  Frenchy whirled and marched to the far end of the room. They followed her like sheep. When she tugged on a handle, the drawer slid free. She fingered a leather pouch and placed it on the surface. With a tip of the bag, a signet ring spilled onto a velvet pad. Then she took out some photographs from the rear of the storage and gave one to each of the officers.

  “The ring was found under the body.”

  “Interesting,” Gibson said.

  “The inscription around the stone says, ‘Alpha Zee’.”

  “Is that a local fraternity?” Gibson looked at his partner.

  “From Grimsby, I believe.”

  “Do you know who the members are?”

  “Not really, but we’ll find out,” Eckhart promised.

  “I couldn’t get any prints off it. Even though the ring has been recently buffed, there are too many nicks and scratches. There aren’t any initials either. The lettering you can see here says 10K, as in gold.”

  “Rats. What else do we have?”

  “That’s it.”

  “Shit. That’s not much help.” Eckhart twisted her mouth.

  “An RCMP officer…” Cooper stepped forward, drew his journal from his pocket and flipped the pages. He glanced up and proceeded, “A Constable Dufferin gave me a buzz this morning. He was the first officer on the scene. He said a David Hunter was the fellow who called it in.”

  Gibson’s eyebrows shot up. That rang a bell. “Have you got a number?”

  “Yeah. They’re from BC and staying at the wife’s parents’ place.” Cooper rapped off the information and then stared at his notebook. “Oh, this is a landline. Must be the parents’ contact.”

  “Is his spouse called Jackie?” Gibson asked.

  “How did you know?” Cooper produced a sharp snort.

  “David’s boss was murdered last fall at his workplace.”

  “Whoa!”

  “I’m sure it’s just a fluke.” Although the detective in him didn’t like coincidences. He spun to Eckhart. “Nothing more for us here. Time to hit the pavement.”

  “Back to work, Jonsey,” Cooper said.

  “Boring.” His buddy jabbed him in the ribs.

  They dragged their feet back to the chaotic rubble in Cooper’s office.

  “See you guys later,” Eckhart said as she pulled on the front door. She shielded her eyes from the glare wishing she had sunglasses and jumped into the driver’s seat. They sat in the Expedition with the air conditioning on full blast, going over their course of action.

  “We’ll talk to David and Jackie first. We know they were at the crime scene.” Gibson looked at his list again. “There are only five houses on Lawsons Lane. We can visit everyone on the street without too much trouble. There were a number of people at the party. Let’s see who we can narrow it down to. Until we identify that print, we have no suspects really.”

  “You mean like a needle in a haystack?”

  He shrugged.

  It was a clear route to bring them to Jonnie and Abigail Cunningham’s home off Niagara Street. Eckhart parked against the curb, taking care not to rub the sides of her tires on the concrete. She didn’t usually mind jumping the curb, but the lawn was too nice to mess with. The split-level house was set back off the street. They walked up the long driveway to the front door at the side of the house. An older Lincoln Continental, in a shade of blue hovering between midnight black and deep ocean sapphire that Gibson had never seen before, rested in the carport. They shuffled around it, cautious not to mark its pristine shine. He stood at the top of the stoop and rang the bell. The door was opened instantly by an older woman with curly blonde hair from a bottle, grey showing at the roots.

  “Hello. May I help you?” Abigail asked.

  The detectives flashed their badges.

  “My husband’s in the family room.” She smiled and invited them in. They followed her down six steps of plush kiwi lime carpeting. A brick fireplace at the far wall had a wide cement mantel crammed with photographs from the last twenty-odd years. There was nobody around.

  Abigail looked puzzled. “He was just here. Oh, maybe he went outside for a minute.” She scurried away, her lips pressed into a concerned frown.

  Gibson used the time to study the photos. One of a sailboat caught his attention, making him think about his kayak sitting in its rack at home. He drew in a heavy sigh. Eckhart plunked herself into a swivel chair next to the television, notebook fixed in her hand. The back-door latch rattled. A stout man clad in knee-length shorts and a golf shirt, ambled in, his wife bumping in behind. Her face looked more relaxed now.

  “Here he is.”

  “Hello. Can my wife get you something to drink?” His double chin jiggled with a stifled laughter. Jonnie took his position on the couch where an indentation in the cushion marked his regular spot. His wife parked on the opposite side.

  “No. We’re good. Thank you. I’m Inspector Gibson and this is Inspector Eckhart. We have a few questions? First, are David and Jackie staying with you?”

  “Yes, Jackie is our daughter. They live in BC,” Abigail said.

  “Are they around today?”

  “They’ll be back shortly.” She looked at her husband for confirmation.

  He nodded.

  “Are Elsie and Jackie old friends?”

  “Yes, but she was closer to Savannah, Elsie’s sister. Then Jackie moved to BC. She only comes home once in a while. This time it was a special trip to see her dad. He’s ill,” Abigail said as if her husband wasn’t in the room. She plucked at a hair on her chin and looked off.

  Jonnie remained silent, sipping a brew he had abandoned beforehand.

  “You both went to the fireworks.” Not a questio
n.

  “Yes, we did.” Abigail answered for both anyway.

  “Did you know Elsie as well?”

  “For ages. The whole family,” Abigail said calmly, but her eyes betrayed her.

  “Sorry for your loss.” Gibson didn’t know what else to say. He would be saying sorry to a lot of people. So far it seemed as if Elsie had plenty of friends but obviously one enemy as well.

  Jonnie took another mouthful, draining the crystal tumbler. He held it up to his spouse. “Would you mind?”

  “Okay.” She grabbed his glass and turned to the detectives. “Sure you don’t want anything?”

  Gibson waved a hand in reply. She bustled to the kitchen, next floor up. The clinking of glass and a slammed cupboard door sailed down the stairs. She reappeared and arranged the drink on a coaster. Gibson let everyone settle back down before he continued.

  “Did you see Elsie there? See her leave? Anything you noticed would be helpful.”

  “She was sitting with Jackie and Savannah, but she left before the fireworks started. That’s pretty well all I know.”

  “What about you?” Gibson turned to her husband.

  “She left right after the scuffle.” He stirred his drink with a celery stick.

  “What scuffle?” Gibson glanced at Eckhart. She shrugged.

  “One of the young fellows from out of town and Anatoe.”

  “That’s Jackie’s second cousin removed. From Grimsby,” Abigail added.

  “He lives here now, dear.”

  “I know that. He has a garage. He fixes cars. Where is it again?” She peered at her husband.

  “Down Niagara Street, close to town. Called Sinclair Motors.”

  “Anatoe Sinclair?” Gibson hazarded a wild guess. It was a name he knew from a long time ago. He looked down at the carpet and rubbed at his temple. The murder had happened before he had gotten a chance to find the person he was looking for—Cecilia Sinclair. Had it just fallen into his lap? Could he be that lucky? And what the hell did second cousin removed mean? That was Greek to him. But it was some kind of relative. It didn’t matter.

  “It was no biggy, just a boys-will-be-boys thing,” Jonnie said.

  “Oh, really? Who says that anymore? And not only that, but what about the name calling? Razing Elsie about her weight.” She shook her head in disgust. “They’re animals. The lot. That’s what happens when you’re brought up by a single mom.”

  “That’s enough.” Her husband spoke sharply.

  Gibson glanced up somewhat surprised.

  “Well, I don’t admire any of them.” She thumped her hand on the arm of the couch in finality and clamped her mouth shut, not wishing to get into a sparring match with her ill husband.

  Gibson had stopped listening. Single mom. Yeah, it just fell into his lap—Cecilia. Had to be. His mind was going in a few directions at once. The bang brought him back to the room, and he stared into Abigail’s eyes. They were a sepia brown with a ring of gold inside her iris that added a depth to her untold stories—if looks could kill. And she had just given him an unexpected tip-off to his own quandary. He heaved a sigh so deeply he thought everyone would question him, but nobody was paying any attention.

  “Anything else you could tell us?” Gibson asked as if he was still in the moment.

  “I don’t think so.” She shrugged.

  Jonnie took another sip, but didn’t say anything. It looked like tomato juice, but now Gibson figured it was mixed with beer.

  A noise at the door alerted them to the arrival of the kids.

  “Inspector, what are you doing here?” David asked. He stood at the top of the stairs.

  “Hello, Mr. Hunter. I’m helping with the new Task Force. This is Inspector Eckhart.”

  Gibson felt a presence behind him and swung around. Jackie stood in the doorway of the back door. Her eyes scanned the room and met his smoky grey eyes.

  “Hello, Jackie.”

  “Hi. This is weird.” She gave a quick bark of laughter.

  They both entered the room and took seats by the fireplace.

  “As I said to David, I’m on a special assignment. Nice to see you.” Then he got down to business.

  “Let’s start at the fireworks and work our way from there. Tell me what you know. Go ahead, David.”

  “Well, I was sitting with Jackie, Savannah and Elsie. Some guy came over, but Elsie told him to take a hike. There was a small scuffle at the far end of the field that didn’t amount to anything.” David paused. “A little later, some guys were calling Elsie names again. You know, fat jokes. I think she was embarrassed because she left shortly after.” A blonde lock of hair slipped over his right eye. He nudged it back.

  Gibson waited.

  “When I went out to the road to stretch my legs, I heard some yelling down by the landing. Two people. One of them was Elsie for sure.”

  Gibson leaned into David.

  “Who was with her?”

  “I can’t be certain, but I think it was the guy that does that thing with his eye. The one that Elsie had already yelled at. It was dark. There aren’t any street lights on the lane.”

  “That’s my cousin, Anatoe,” Jackie said. “I didn’t see him talking to Elsie. Where was that?”

  “At the fireworks. You were too busy talking to Savannah. Anyway, I’m not sure it was him or not. I couldn’t actually see his face.” He hesitated. “But it was the way he moved that made me think it was him.”

  Gibson stole a peek at Eckhart.

  “What were they quarreling about?”

  “I don’t know. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but I think it was something about Savannah.” He shrugged. “Next thing they were both gone.”

  Gibson thought it sounded like Anatoe was being a nuisance. Or was he more than just a pest? A killer? If it was Anatoe at all.

  “Give me a rundown on what you saw Jackie.”

  “Wait.”

  Gibson looked over to David.

  “There was someone else there.”

  “Who?” Gibson leaned in further.

  “Mr. Tatlow. I’ve seen him once before. You know the creepy guy?” David hadn’t wanted to say anything because Jackie and her friends kept saying he was a monster from way back when. That might make Tatlow a target. They might railroad the guy and he wasn’t even sure it was him. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I knew it.”

  “It’s okay. We’ll check it out.” He saw Eckhart doodling in her notebook. Probably a couple of giant question marks. “What about you, Jackie?”

  “I didn’t notice anything except Elsie leaving. I hadn’t seen Savannah for years, so I was wrapped up in all the gossip.” She paused. “The news.” She shrugged in apology.

  “Now, let’s move on. How did you happen to be on the beach?” He turned back to David.

  “We actually never made it to the beach. Well we did, but not like you think.” He stopped, his tongue tied into a knot. “Let me start from the beginning. Jackie and I were headed for the beach, but Gregory came tearing up the stairs. He said Elsie was dead and just ran off. We tried to stop him. Jackie and I went down to see…” David stopped.

  “It’s all right. I know, it’s hard.”

  “I saw Elsie face down in the sand. All I could do was stare. Her body didn’t look right. I knew she was dead even before I checked her pulse. Then I called 911.”

  Jackie’s bronze skin had a pale hue to it as if she was going to faint.

  “I understand that Todd showed up. What happened?” Gibson hoped he would get some clarity about what the husband had done down on the beach.

  “We were waiting on the landing. Todd ran down to the beach, so I ran after him. He didn’t touch anything. I’ll swear to that. I knew that would be important. You know, from the last time…”

  “Go on.”

  “Then the cops came. They asked a bunch of questions and we left.”

  It was good that Todd hadn’t touched anything, Gibson thought. Not while David was there
anyway. This could be crucial later when they got the print off the rock. He glanced over to Eckhart and saw her scribbling in the notebook. Yeah, she’d got that written down.

  “Savannah was there too,” Jackie said, “but she didn’t go down to the beach.”

  “So the four of you went to Todd’s house after. Is that correct?”

  “Yeah. Jackie and I stayed the night. To make sure Todd and Savannah would be okay.” He shook his head. “That’s a joke.”

  “Thanks for your help. Call if you remember anything else. No matter how small it may seem. You’ve been through this before, so you know.”

  David nodded that he understood, although his complexion had turned almost as white as his wife’s.

  “Sorry for your loss, Jackie. I know you have been friends for a long time.”

  “Thanks.” Her voice cracked.

  “We’ll see ourselves out.” Gibson stood up and motioned to his partner.

  “Take care.” Eckhart shoved her notebook into a pocket and also stood.

  Abigail walked them out.

  “You’ll find out who did this?”

  “We’re trying our best.”

  “Thanks.” Her lashes were laden with moisture.

  “They didn’t have anything to do with the murder,” Eckhart said as they walked to the truck.

  “No.”

  As they were walking down the drive, Gibson glanced backwards. Abigail waved from the bay window. Eckhart drove down the street and cleared the corner.

  “Okay. How about a nightcap tonight?” She ran her tongue over her plump lips.

  His smoky eyes followed the movement.

  “Sure.”

  Eckhart bit her lip and a sudden pink blushed her cheeks. She smiled in that way that he had seen in a movie—shy and demure.

  Gazing straight ahead, Gibson wasn’t sure which direction they were going, but soon they passed his motel room. The small bridge to Port Dalhousie came up next. It was a beautiful spot where the lake could be seen when looking down almost any street. Eckhart took a few side roads and then finally pulled into a paved driveway quite near to the water.

  The upscale Brownstone townhouse was an end unit of six. They headed up a flight of stone steps to a crimson door with hanging baskets on either side in front of side glass panels. The foyer was minimalist with a long teak table along one wall. A huge mirror in a thin pewter frame was centred on top. The hardwood floors started at the front door and covered every square inch, all in a deep chocolate hue. From where Gibson stood, he could look into the living room and out the large windows to the lake in the north. The open concept kitchen was over to the right. The bedrooms were hidden down another long hallway on the left.