Triple Threat

by Koetting, Alexis

  A pall lingered over the town in the days following the murder, but it was thickest at the high school. I’d been invited to meet Vincent Leduc at the school early Friday morning to discuss our plans for when classes resumed. A small handful of staff moved zombielike through their business as I made my way to Al Macie’s office. The door was ajar when I got there.

  “Hello,” I said, sticking my head around the open door.

  “Oh, God, you scared me,” a man said, clutching his chest and whirling around to face me.

  “I’m sorry. I should have knocked.”

  “No. It’s fine. I just didn’t expect anyone would be coming in here.”

  When I had spoken with Vincent Leduc, I was certain this was where he had suggested we meet. I opened my mouth to voice my confusion.

  “You’re Bella James,” the man said before I could speak.

  “Yes, I—”

  “You’re just as pretty in real life.”

  “Uh, thank you,” I said, feeling colour rising in my cheeks. “I hope I’m not late. I know you said eight thirty, but—”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “We were supposed to go over plans for—”

  “Ah. You’re meeting someone. I won’t be long. I’m Glynn.” He said the name like it was supposed to mean something. I shook my head. “Glynn Radley,” he repeated. “Al’s partner.”

  He was tall and thin. Just like Al Macie had been. But with a little more muscle.

  “I came by to pick up some of his things,” he went on. “I should have come by sooner but I couldn’t bring myself …”

  “Of course. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  “I’m, uh …” he stammered, his eyes starting to well. “He was very excited to be working with you. I was so jealous. I told him to be sure to get all the Port Authority scoop. I’d made up a dozen excuses to come by the class so I could meet you. I guess now … This wasn’t the way I pictured it.”

  Jeffers had been right after all about people wanting to cozy up to a celebrity. Time to keep up my end of the bargain. “Mr. Radley—”

  “Glynn, please.”

  “Glynn. I’m sorry I never got a chance to meet Al. He seemed lovely over the phone.”

  “Lovely. That really is the perfect word to describe him,” he said sadly. “We were together for twenty-one years and I never once heard him say a bad word about anybody. Can you believe that? In twenty-one years?” I smiled and let him continue. “Bully directors, angry parents, difficult colleagues, even bad waiters. They all got a pass when it came to Al. It’s one of the things I loved most about him. Always seeing the good. But it drove me crazy too, you know? Sometimes I just wanted him to lash out. To yell at the top of his lungs. Throw something. I mean he must have felt … frustrated. Angry. At times. Where does that all go?”

  “I—”

  “I’m sorry. God, listen to me.”

  “It’s fine,” I said, smiling reassuringly. “It’s important for you to talk through things. Especially at a time like this. Believe me. I learned that lesson the hard way.”

  “I’m trying, you know?” Glynn said, tears coming to his eyes and his voice catching. “I’m really trying to understand how somebody … I know Al would want me to forgive, but …”

  “From what you’ve told me about him, I can’t believe Al would have had any enemies.”

  “Oh, I didn’t say that. Al may have seen the good in everyone, but that doesn’t mean—”

  “I’m so sorry I’m late,” a man said, rushing down the hall toward me. “I had to fill out some forms in the office in order to … Glynn.”

  “Vince?”

  I’d been standing close to the door and had been visible from the hall but it wasn’t until Vincent Leduc turned into the office that he saw I wasn’t alone. The two men stared at one another.

  “I don’t believe this,” Glynn said, clocking the box of personal belongings Vincent carried. “You didn’t waste any time, did you?”

  “Glynn, this wasn’t my decision,” Vincent said calmly. “The board asked—”

  “Yeah,” Glynn retorted, “sure it did.” He grabbed the box containing Al’s things and walked out of the room.

  I stood, frozen, unsure whether I should speak. Vincent Leduc had his back to me and he sighed heavily as he placed his box on the desk. Finally he turned to face me.

  “Bella,” he said, extending his hand. “Vincent Leduc. Call me Vince.”

  “Nice to meet you, Vince.”

  “I’m sorry about all that.”

  “Not at all,” I said, dying to know what “all that” was. “Glynn seemed upset to learn you’re taking over Al’s class.”

  “He’ll get over it,” he said with a bit of a chuckle.

  “You know them well? Glynn and Al?”

  “Mostly Al. Listen, can I get you a coffee or something before we start?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Give me five minutes?”

  “Of course.”

  He took a mug out of the box and left me alone in the office.

  I could see a copy of Sanford Meisner’s book, On Acting, among Vince’s things and I reached for it without thinking. Meisner’s teachings were legendary and his book can be found on the shelves of almost every actor. During my first year of theatre school I’d had a teacher who had studied with him and had implemented his technique in our class. I flipped through the pages of the book, shaking my head at the memory of the Repetition Exercise, which had been the bane of my existence. One of my flips sent a photograph falling to the floor.

  A group of men were standing on the steps of a building I didn’t recognize. Their arms were linked and they appeared to be on the descent. I recognized a much younger Al Macie at one end of the line. He looked to be in mid-laugh. In fact all of the men appeared to be having a great time. All but one. A man at the other end of the line who I was sure was Vincent Leduc.

  “This photo is key,” I said over the phone to Jeffers later that night. “There’s more to both Glynn and Al’s relationships with Vince. Vince clearly didn’t want to discuss it. Hopefully Glynn will be more forthcoming. I’ve already called him and asked if we could meet.”

  “Look at Samuel, showing initiative. What’s your plan?”

  “Glynn was at the school picking up some of Al’s personal effects. I told him I found this photograph and thought he might like to have it. I said it was in one of Al’s books. If he doesn’t want it, I’ll sneak it back into the office. It’s a way to get the conversation started.”

  “OK. Did either of them know anything about Elsbeth?”

  “It didn’t occur to me to ask.”

  “Damn.”

  “Why don’t you just go talk to her? She’s the one who found Al’s body. She’s pretty material to the case. It only makes sense the police would need to speak to her.”

  “I did. This morning. Her father kept a pretty tight leash on the situation. The best I could get was that she was at the school to meet a friend to study.”

  “At seven in the morning?”

  “Apparently she had a big test that afternoon.”

  “But you don’t believe her?”

  “No. I know if I could talk to her without her father looming over us she’d have more to say. And when I say ‘I’, I mean you.”

  “I’ll do my best,” I said. “Classes resume next week. I’ll try to get her alone.”

  “Don’t try. Just do it.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Jeffers, what exactly do you think she knows? She said she was at the school early to meet a friend to study and found Al’s body. Why are you so sure there’s more to her story?”

  “Why was she in the studio?”

  “Maybe she was just walking by.”

  “Maybe. Maybe she heard something. Maybe she saw something. Maybe the killer saw her and threatened her. I don’t know. But there’s more. I can just feel it.”

  “Did you ask any of
the staff about her when you were conducting interviews?”

  “I got nothing. She’s a good student. Quiet. Hangs with a small group of girls. Blah blah.”

  “And what about Al?”

  “Highly respected. A gifted teacher by all accounts. Generally well liked.”

  “Generally?”

  “I got the feeling not all of the staff was completely comfortable with his homosexuality. But that’s not surprising. And certainly no reason to kill him. Listen, when are you planning on seeing Glynn?”

  “Sunday.”

  “Would you mind if I tagged along? When I spoke to him on the day of the murder he was understandably upset. He’d been out of town and rushed back when he got the news. He answered my questions as best he could, but now that a few days have passed, he might be able to recall something else.”

  “About Elsbeth?”

  “Among other things.”

  Jeffers and I spoke for a few more minutes before hanging up.

  “I thought you weren’t getting involved,” Dr. Gorgeous said from the doorway of the kitchen. He was drying a plate.

  “You know I have a dishwasher,” I said, smiling.

  “Call me old fashioned. More wine?” he asked, nodding toward my empty glass.

  “Thanks. And for the record,” I said, as he disappeared into the kitchen, “I’m not involved. I’m just helping.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Chapter 6

  Although I refused to admit involvement in the case, I did finally confess that the recent meeting of Glynn Radley and Vincent Leduc had greatly piqued my curiosity. Not to mention Jeffers’ fascination with Elsbeth Penner. His hunches were rarely wrong. Whatever intrigue I sensed in the case, however, had to be put on hold as intrigue of a political nature took focus the following afternoon.

  George Bernard Shaw’s play On the Rocks centres on an uninspiring British prime minister who finds himself increasingly more depressed and exhausted as his country’s unemployed take to the streets in protest. In this season’s production of the play, I was cast as The Lady, a mysterious woman who convinces the PM to take a spiritual retreat of sorts that brings about his rejuvenation and leads him to pursue wholesale nationalization. The character has only one scene, albeit a long one, near the end of the first act.

  It’s a two-person scene and one that I was, initially, quite excited about when I was offered the role. However, it turned out that the actor playing the prime minister was a bit of an Eeyore, a real glass half-empty kind of guy, which left me wanting to go straight from rehearsal into a therapy session.

  “Oh my god,” I said, as I entered Dr. Gorgeous’ living room and collapsed onto his sofa. Moustache darted into the kitchen before I even had the chance to detach his leash.

  “I thought you had a short day today?” Gorgeous called from the kitchen.

  “I did. It’s not that. It’s Robert Cole. He sucks the life out of me.” Moustache appeared, leash free and licking his chops. “Smells good in here.”

  We had started taking turns cooking dinner. Whoever’s day ended first did the cooking and the other got the pleasure of cleaning up. Although my day had been relatively short, the animal hospital closed at noon on Saturdays, which made the good doctor the regular Saturday night chef.

  “I’m trying something new,” he called from the kitchen.

  “Moustache seems to like it.” The dog’s tongue was still in motion.

  “And he didn’t even get the good stuff.”

  “I’m guessing there’s pasta involved.” I said, as a closer examination of Moustache’s snout revealed a noodle stuck in his fur.

  I freed the noodle and nearly lost a finger when Moustache went for it. Then I reluctantly peeled myself off the sofa and went to the kitchen to kiss the cook.

  An hour and a half later, we had all but devoured a delicious rabbit ragout. Moustache, having eaten a veterinarian-approved portion, was asleep on the sofa with his full belly aimed at the sky.

  “This is going to sound random, but do you know anything about the Mennonite faith?” I asked, clearing the plates.

  “A little. My best friend growing up was Mennonite. Daniel Muir.” He started to laugh. “I used to call him Dan Manure. He hated that. He’d get so mad.”

  “That’s awful. I thought you said you were friends.”

  “We were. One day, instead of Paul Barrett, he called me Paul Bearshit. We were inseparable after that. I think that was the only time he ever swore.”

  “Boys and their toilet humour,” I said, filling the sink with soapy water.

  “Always funny. Anyway, from what I learned from Dan Manure, Mennonites are Christians following the teachings in the New Testament. I know there are some Mennonites, even around here, who are pretty conservative: living on farms, growing and raising most of their own food, using limited technology, that kind of thing. Dan’s family was more modern, I guess you could say. I know there is a big focus on family and community. And they don’t believe in violence as a means to an end. Dan wouldn’t even play with my G.I. Joes. What’s with the sudden interest?”

  I told him about Elsbeth and Jeffers’ asking me to talk to her alone.

  “It sounds to me the issue here is an overprotective father. A person can have one of those regardless of their religion.”

  “True. I just didn’t know if specific gender roles or anything like that might be in play in the more traditional homes.”

  “That I don’t know. Dan was one of seven boys.”

  At that moment the cat flap lifted and Paul’s golden-haired Maine Coon emerged. We froze and followed the cat’s every move with silent eyes. I snuck a peek at where Moustache was sleeping and was relieved to find him still in the throes of his post-meal fatigue. The first time Moustache and the cat met had resulted in a swat so violent that Moustache would have required stitches had the fur on his face not been as bushy as it was. Although relatively unhurt, the hit was enough to yield a yelp from the dog before he ran to cower behind me.

  Brimstone was the meanest cat I’d ever known. All action stopped whenever he chose to present himself for fear of upsetting him and, thereby, losing a layer of skin or worse. Fortunately he spent most of his time outdoors, returning home only for meals or if it rained. He sat now at his dish eating hungrily. I looked at Paul and made a face. He smiled and threw up his hands. For whatever reason he loved that cat and happily put up with its evil ways. When the dish was empty, Brimstone cleaned himself, stretched, and disappeared through the same door that had admitted him.

  “How old did you say he was?” I asked, resuming the dishwashing.

  “Not sure exactly. Close to eleven.”

  “And cats live for how long?”

  He laughed and kissed me lightly on the back of my neck. “You up for a movie?”

  “Sure. Nothing with death.” I had a feeling I’d get my fill of that in the coming days.

  Chapter 7

  I met Jeffers outside Glynn and Al’s house in St. David’s, a small village that retained its original name despite having been part of the Niagara-on-the-Lake Township for decades. A series of woofs answered Jeffers’ knock on the door of a converted farmhouse. After a moment the barking subsided and the door opened.

  “Bella, please—Detective Jeffers?” Glynn Radley had obviously been crying. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you two—”

  “No, I’m sorry,” I said. “Detective Jeffers and I have worked together in the past. When I told him I was coming by he asked if he could join me. I should have checked with you to see if that was okay.”

  “It’s fine. Of course. You’re both welcome. Come in.”

  An enormous Great Dane came to greet us.

  “This is Roger,” Glynn said, taking the huge dog by the collar and leading him away into the living room where another one, only slightly smaller, was curled up on a cushion on the floor. “And this is Edith.” He bent down and stroked her sleek head gently. “She’s taking Al’s death really hard.�
� He indicated that we should sit. “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?”

  “No, we’re fine,” Jeffers said.

  “So, the fact that you’re here too, Detective, does that mean there’s been a lead? Have you found something?”

  “Unfortunately, no,” Jeffers said, and new tears sprang to Glynn’s eyes. “Mr. Radley, I assure you, we are doing everything we can.” Glynn nodded. Jeffers went on. “I know you answered many of these questions when we first met but sometimes it’s helpful to revisit them. I’d like to try that today. Often the initial shock can cloud the mind and now that some time has passed there’s a chance you’ll be able to access more information.”

  “I’m not sure I know more now than I did then, but go ahead.”

  “You said you were out of town when you got the news?”

  “Yes, I’m a firefighter in Toronto. We work twenty-four hour shifts. Gerald Harvey called me just before eight that morning. Told me what happened.”

  “Do you have any idea why Al would have been at the school so early? He must have been there before six.”

  Glynn nodded. “He was redesigning the drama AQ courses. The courses teachers take for additional qualifications. He had to get it done by next week and his laptop was acting up so he’d been going in to the school early and staying late to work on his computer there.”

  “How long had he been doing that?”

  “A couple of weeks I guess.”

  “Did anyone else know he was at the school outside of regular hours?”

  Glynn shrugged. “I suppose any one of the staff.”

  “Mr. Radley, I need you to think very carefully about anything that may have been troubling Al recently. Had he received any threats? Had he had any arguments with anyone?”

  Glynn closed his eyes and took several moments before shaking his head.

  “What about Vince?” I asked. A look of disgust flashed across Glynn’s face. “I couldn’t help but pick up on some tension when I was with you both in Al’s office.”

  “Al always laughed it off, but I think Vince was obsessed with him.”