“He’s not here at the moment, ma’am. May I help you? I’m Detective Karl Wesson.”
“I was actually looking for Detective Sergeant Drumm,” she said. “He left his card in my apartment, slipped it under my door, actually. I’m Mildred Wade.”
Karl repeated, “Detective Drumm isn’t here at the moment, Ms Wade. I’m sure I can assist you, if you let me know what it’s about. We’re working together. You said he put his card under your door? Where do you live then?”
“I live on Queen Street. I’m retired.”
“Ah!” Karl suddenly realized whom she must be. “You’re a neighbour of Terry Noonan.”
“That’s right. I was away visiting my sister for a few days. She’s not well, you see. I came back to find Detective Sergeant Drumm’s card with this written on the back.” She showed Wesson the back of the card. ‘Please call me ASAP. It’s urgent.’ “So I came down to the station right away this morning. I tried calling but I just got his voicemail. Why did he want to talk to me?”
Wesson said, “Please sit down, Ms Wade.”
“It’s Mrs. Wade, actually. I’ve been a widow for seven years.”
“Mrs. Wade, it’s about the murder of Sarah Noonan. I’m sure you’ve heard of it?”
Mildred Wade pushed her glasses up her nose. “Yes, Detective, I am aware that Terry’s wife was killed. But what has that to do with me?”
Wesson began to wonder which one of them was in charge of this conversation. This woman was clearly a no-nonsense type, used to giving directions. “Terry Noonan is a suspect in the murder of his wife. We have been trying to determine his whereabouts on the night of Friday, May the twelfth. He says he was home that evening, but we can’t verify that. Detective Sergeant Drumm has been trying to contact all of Mr. Noonan’s neighbours to see if any of you could confirm his story.” He paused. “Can you?”
“Friday the twelfth? That was the night his wife was killed, wasn’t it? She was a teacher, just like I used to be.”
“That’s right, Mrs. Wade. Now, can you tell us anything of interest?”
“Yes, I believe I can. I was at the movie theatre that night, over at the Pinewoods Mall. I was with a friend and we saw the new Tom Hanks movie. Carol – that’s my friend – dropped me off at the front of my building.”
Wesson was making notes, wondering where this was leading. If she had been out, how could she know anything? “Yes?” His tone was not encouraging.
“On my way into the building, I noticed the flickering light of the TV in Mr. Noonan’s apartment. He only has some sheers in the window. I don’t know how he can stand to be so visible to anyone who walks in the building. Maybe he can’t afford proper curtains, I don’t know.”
This was interesting, thought Karl. “What time was this, ma’am?”
“I’ve been thinking about that. The movie ended at about 8:45 – we always go to the early showing – and then Carol and I went out for coffee and a bite. I think I got home about 9:45.”
Karl said, “You said you noticed the TV was on. But did you see Mr. Noonan?”
“I saw him sitting in a chair, yes.”
“Are you sure it was him? The curtains – the sheers – they were open then?”
“No, they were closed. But I could tell it was him, from the way he was sitting.”
Wesson said, “This is important, Mrs. Wade, so please think carefully. Could you clearly see his face? Well enough to testify in court that it was definitely him?”
Mildred Wade looked uncertain for the first time. “His face? No, I couldn’t see it that well. Not enough to swear in court. But I know it was him; I’ve seen him sit there like that many times before.”
“Could you hear what he was watching, ma’am?”
“Yes, it sounded like a baseball game. I could hear it as I walked past his apartment door. I live two apartments over from him.”
Wesson said, “Thank you, ma’am, that’s very helpful. And you’re observant.” He paused. “We’re also wondering about Mr. Noonan’s whereabouts last Friday evening. That would be the nineteenth. Do you know anything about that?”
“The nineteenth? That’s only three days ago. What’s that got to do with anything?”
“I can’t tell you that yet, ma’am. But do you know if Mr. Noonan was in that night?” Wesson leaned forward in his chair, looking hopeful.
“I’m afraid not, no. I wasn’t feeling well Friday night, so I went to bed early. I don’t think I saw Terry at all that day.” At Wesson’s look of disappointment, she continued, “Sorry.”
“That’s alright, Mrs. Wade. What you’ve told me is of considerable interest. So thank you.”
“I always try to be a good citizen, Detective.” She stood up. “I’ll get along now. I’m sure you have lots to do. And I know I have.”
“If you think of anything else, Mrs. Wade, please let me know.” He gave her his card. “I’ll let Detective Sergeant Drumm know what you’ve said. He’ll certainly want to talk to you. You can expect his call today.”
Mildred Wade shook his hand goodbye and marched out of the office.
“Well, well,” Karl said aloud. He picked up the phone to contact Drumm.
Mrs. McCall greeted Drumm and Singh warmly when they showed up at Elmdale Elementary later in the morning. As usual the school office hummed with activity. There were a couple of parents standing at the counter and three students sitting in chairs waiting. An educational assistant whom Drumm recognized from a previous visit came in, pushing a young lad in a wheelchair. Drumm indicated to the secretary that they wanted to speak to her privately, not wanting to divulge their business in front of the two young mothers in the office.
“We need to speak to Ms Cranston,” he said. “What’s the best way of doing that, do you think? I guess we should get the principal’s permission first.”
“You’ll have a problem doing that,” said Mrs. McCall. “Neither one of them is here today.”
Drumm should have anticipated Lynnette’s absence, given the assault she had endured Friday evening, but he hadn’t thought to check with the school first. James Shaughnessy not being there was unexpected, however, although he supposed that a principal could be sick like anyone else. “So, who’s in charge then, Gail?”
“That would be Bill,” she said. “Do you want me to get him down here? I’ll do an all-call; I’m not sure where he is at the moment. And I do need him to talk to those three clowns out there.”
Drumm thought for a moment. “No, let’s not bother him. I think we’ll just go and visit Lynnette. Thanks for your help.” He turned, ready to leave the office.
“How about Jim? Do you want me to call him and let him know you were here?”
“No, don’t bother him. I presume he’s at home? We’ll just drop in and surprise him. An unannounced visit.”
Once again, Lynnette Cranston didn’t appear to be at her best when she opened her door to their knock. It had been a rough ten days for her, Drumm knew. She looked like she hadn’t slept much since they last saw her on Saturday morning. The scrape on her chin had scabbed over but it was still a most unappealing sight.
“Lynnette!” Lori Singh was shocked at her appearance. “You poor thing. How are you feeling?” Even as she said it, Lori knew it was an inane question. It was perfectly obvious how Lynnette was feeling.
Lynnette sighed heavily. “Not well. My head’s feeling a bit better and the scrapes have stopped stinging for the most part. But… it’s my nerves. I can’t seem to stop thinking about what happened. I’m fretting about every sudden noise, every creak and strange sound in this place.”
Drumm said, “Maybe we should have put an officer outside your building. Just in case your attacker came back.”
Lynnette shook her head. “Not necessary, Detective Drumm. I haven’t been outside since Friday night. And I wouldn’t answer any knocks on the door either. Give me another day or two and I’ll be back to normal, I hope. I plan on going back to school on Wednesday.” She g
ave a wan smile. “Or Thursday. Or Friday. Maybe Monday.”
Drumm asked, “Do you think you’re up to going outside with us to show us where you were attacked? You’ll be perfectly safe with us, believe me.”
Lynnette didn’t look convinced but she agreed to go with them. Drumm led the way out to the parking lot where her car was parked.
“Please take us through what happened Friday evening,” said Drumm. “Is that where you parked, for example?”
“Yes. I already told you, I haven’t been out at all. The car hasn’t been driven since then.”
“OK. So you parked there and got out of your vehicle. Then what? Your attacker came at you from where? Over there presumably?” Drumm pointed to a grassy area to the left of the car.
“That’s right. I didn’t see him, remember; I just sensed something to my left. And then he whacked me.”
Lori Singh said, “He was probably waiting behind that pine tree, don’t you think, Nick? He could wait there unseen for quite awhile.”
Drumm agreed. “I think it’s likely, yes, although we have no proof that he did. You didn’t find any cigarette butts or footprints.” He turned back to Lynnette. “I want you to try to visualize the person who was standing there, Lynnette. Whose face do you see? What’s your first thought?”
“Face? I already told you, I didn’t see his face.”
Drumm said patiently, “Sorry, I didn’t explain myself well. What I meant was, if you were told it was one of your colleagues from school who did this, which one was it? Whose face do you see?”
Lynnette looked blank for a few seconds and then her expression changed.
Drumm could see quite clearly that she had thought of someone. “Lynnette? Who?”
“Don.”
“Musjari? You could picture him attacking you?”
“I guess so, yes. As soon as you said that, I could see him waiting there and coming out to hit me. Isn’t that terrible? It probably wasn’t him at all!”
Lori said, “Maybe not, Lynnette, but it definitely shows the kind of reaction he produces. Sometimes there’s value in that.”
Drumm said, “Thank you for coming out here with us. Let’s get back to your apartment now and then we’ll leave you alone.”
The Miata didn’t sound quite right, Drumm thought. There was a vibration which he was not used to feeling. He made a mental note to book an appointment with his mechanic, hopefully later on today. In all honesty he didn’t look after it the way he should. He would get so wrapped up in his cases that he would forget to get the service done that it required.
Lori Singh was on her way to a court date where she would likely be called to testify in a rape trial. He was en route to the residence of Jim Shaughnessy. The principal lived in an upscale part of the city and Drumm was curious to see what kind of home he lived in.
It was a newer subdivision located on a small hill, just a rise of a hundred feet or so but this small knoll combined with large, pricey homes had earned the area the nickname, ‘Snob Hill’. Shaughnessy’s home was one of the smaller ones on his street but Drumm still estimated its worth at eight hundred thousand, more or less. Having visited the residences of many of Elmdale’s staff, Drumm was struck by the difference in living standards between the teachers and their principal. Of course the principal would be earning in excess of a hundred thousand a year, where many of his younger teachers would make about half that and be paying off student loans to boot. Shaughnessy’s home, second from the end, was set back from the street further than normal, and the front of the property was screened by numerous shrubs and trees which gave the house itself a lot of privacy.
Drumm parked the Miata on the shady driveway and walked around to a side entrance to the garage. This door had a small window and he peered in, shading his eyes as he did so. In the gloom he could just make out a silver Lexus, another door in the back wall, presumably leading to the interior and what appeared to be some garden tools hanging on the walls. The stone walkway continued to a gate where Drumm stopped and surveyed the backyard. It too was private, a tall cedar hedge enclosing lush grass and some tidy flower gardens. A shed, built to match the style of the house, completed the picture. Drumm retraced his path and stepped onto the front porch where he rang the doorbell.
Jim Shaughnessy opened the door, and looked surprised to see the detective standing on his porch. “Detective Drumm! I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
“I need to speak to you, sir, and as you weren’t at school today, I came out here. May I come in?”
Shaughnessy hesitated, then apologized, “Sorry, Detective, forgetting my manners.” He opened the door wider and stood to one side to allow the detective access.
“No problem, Mr. Shaughnessy. I understand you’re not feeling well today,” said Drumm. Shaughnessy did in fact look pale and a bit fidgety, and even though it was a cool morning, he was sweating again. He was dressed casually, in jeans and an extra-large tee-shirt, the first time Drumm had seen him in anything informal. Drumm thought he should stick to a jacket and tie; his short stature and extra weight did not go well with baggy blue jeans. Shaughnessy led the way to the living room, furnished tastefully and with an eye for comfort. Everything in the room was expensive, or looked it; Drumm especially appreciated the huge flatscreen TV mounted on the wall.
“I’ve been better, Detective, that’s for sure. But what can I do for you? You said you needed to talk to me?”
“You heard about the attack on Lynnette Cranston, sir? Friday night?”
“I did, yes. That poor woman, she’s been through enough. Have you any idea who did it?”
“As a matter of fact, we are making progress in figuring out who was responsible, yes.” This was a lie, of course, but Shaughnessy wasn’t to know that and Drumm was interested in how he would take it.
Shaughnessy was surprised. “Oh? I understood Gail to say that Lynnette didn’t see who hit her.”
Drumm said, “She didn’t, that’s true, but it turns out there was a witness who saw the assault. She surprised the attacker and drove him off, and even though she walks with a cane, she was able to get after him far enough to get a glimpse of his car leaving. She got a partial plate and thought the car was a light-coloured late model sedan. Like yours.” This was pure invention, but Drumm was pleased with his fiction, especially since it seemed to be having an effect on the principal.
Shaughnessy said, “You’re saying you know who did it? Are you going to make an arrest then? Do you think it was one of my staff? Is that why you’re here?”
“As to who, I can’t tell you that yet. We’re still checking what everyone was doing Friday night. And I’m afraid I need to know where you were.”
Shaughnessy settled back in his chair. “Of course, I was expecting that. I was here all night, didn’t go out at all. I like my evenings quiet. I usually read a bit, watch TV for a while, go to bed early. I don’t have the energy that I used to.”
“And can anyone verify that, sir?”
“No, I’m afraid not. But I was here.”
“Would any of your neighbours know that you were here? Would they have noticed if you had driven away?”
Shaughnessy now looked red and flustered, even a bit angry. “Detective Drumm, are you accusing me of attacking one of my own teachers? Because if you are…”
Drumm said easily, “Oh, I’m not accusing you, Mr. Shaughnessy, not yet at any rate. But two of your female teachers have been attacked, one of them murdered, and maybe the other one would have been killed as well, if the assailant hadn’t been frightened off. You have no alibi for either of the nights in question, cannot, in fact, prove that you were at home. You might well have left this house. We will, of course, be checking with your neighbours to see if they saw you leave at all. Oh, yes – you drive a late model silver Lexus. Curious that, wouldn’t you say?” Drumm studied Shaughnessy with interest.
The principal said nervously, “I can see how you might see me as a suspect, Detective Drumm, but I
can assure you, you’re dead wrong. Sorry – bad choice of words. I didn’t kill Sarah, I didn’t attack Lynnette. Why would I do either? What would my motive have been? And as for that witness and her description of a car, it’s pretty vague, isn’t it? Thousands of vehicles would fit that description. Why would you think it was mine?”
“Do you suppose I could have some water, Mr. Shaughnessy?” Drumm asked. “All this talking...”
Shaughnessy was about to answer when his telephone rang. He said quickly, “Help yourself, Detective. Kitchen’s that way. Glasses in the cupboard to the right of the sink.” Shaughnessy reached over and picked up the phone. Drumm got to his feet and hurried into the kitchen. A heaven-sent opportunity, he thought. In the kitchen he opened the cupboard and retrieved a glass, then set the water running. Even though he could hear Shaughnessy’s voice coming from the other room, he knew he didn’t have much time. Quickly and as quietly as he could, he opened the refrigerator. There was a bottle of wine in there. He was disappointed that it was unopened and on its side, but he was intrigued to see that it was a bottle labeled Puligny-Montrachet Clos de la Garenne, a vintage that he had never heard of. He memorized the label, closed the door as quietly as he had opened it, filled his glass and turned the water off. He was just in time, walking back into the living room as Shaughnessy put down the phone.
“Thanks for the water, Mr. Shaughnessy. I’ll be heading out shortly, but I was wondering if you could give me a tour of your property before I go.”
“You want to see my gardens, is that it?”
“Please. And a peek at your spiffy Lexus.”
Shaughnessy eyed him, the expression on his face unreadable. “I’m not sure I want to help you out any more, Detective Drumm. After what you’ve just accused me of! Maybe I should just call my lawyer.”
“Suit yourself,” Drumm said casually. “You’re certainly entitled to an attorney. I’ll remind you that I haven’t accused you of anything yet. But if you won’t co-operate, I assure you we’ll be back with a warrant. We have plenty enough to get one, you know. And then we won’t be just looking at your backyard and garage. We’ll go through everything you have and all your rooms; lots of cruisers and uniforms on your street for all your neighbours to wonder about.” Drumm wasn’t sure a judge would grant him a warrant, but he waited patiently, trying to appear confident, arms folded, leaning against the door jamb.
An Indecent Death Page 18
