“He didn’t. I couldn’t get hold of him, so I left a message.”
“What did you say in the message?”
“I asked him to call me on my cell. I told him it was very important.”
“In the message did you say anything at all about the approval?”
“No. I wanted to tell him in person.”
“So when did he find out?”
“It wasn’t until the next morning.” Sandi seems puzzled. She cannot make out why Steve is asking all these questions. “When he got my message, he called me back on my cell, but I had it set to vibrate and I didn’t notice it ringing. It wasn’t until the morning that I checked my messages.
“George’s message said that he would meet me at nine in the morning at the office. It was the Saturday morning. That was when I told him.”
If Sandi is telling the truth, George could not have known in time to kill Kevin, unless…
Steve is on it. “So you met Mr. Walsh here in the office?” She nods. “And at what time did Mr. Walsh arrive?”
“I don’t know. I arrived at five after nine and he was already here.”
“And when did your meeting finish?”
“It was after eleven thirty. I stayed here to do some work but I don’t know what time Mr. Walsh left. You could check with security, everyone gets logged in and logged out.”
“And you and Mr. Walsh were together the entire time, from nine-oh-five until eleven thirty?”
“Except for a five minute break, yes.”
If this is true, George could not have killed Kevin and, for that matter, neither could my other suspect: Sandi herself. Unless they were in it together and this is an alibi concocted for the benefit of them both.
“What is your relationship with Mr. Walsh?” It’s a great question; one I did not consider. It opens up a whole new vista of possibilities.
“He’s the Chairman of this company. My ultimate boss.” She says it like she is talking to a kid but then realizes the implications of the question. She reddens and glares at him. So much for that idea. Not even Meryl Streep is a good enough actress to pull that one off. Sandi’s relationship with George was strictly business.
“I’d like to get on to another subject now.” Steve says smoothly. He is a great interviewer. Except for the one question I think he has missed, he is right on the money.
He continues, “I understand that Kevin Wallace had been conducting illegal trials of Addi-ban.” He lets the statement hang in the air.
Sandi looks at me, her face neutral. She takes a big breath and nods.
“Ms. Palmer, your brother Jason was one of the people killed by Addi-ban?”
She nods again and this time a tear makes its way down her cheek, followed by another.
“I have to ask you this.” Steve’s voice is gentle. “Why have you continued to work for a company whose drug killed your own brother?”
She is racked by sobs and it takes time for her to get them under control.
“George made me. He said that if what Kevin had been doing got out, then the company would be ruined. He threatened me.”
“When did Mr. Walsh threaten you?” Steve asks.
Sandi looks panicky for a moment. She is on the horns of a dilemma. She cannot decide. And then the dam bursts it all floods out of her. “That Saturday morning. I didn’t know Jason was killed by Addi-Ban until I went over to Kevin’s late Friday night. The next morning I told George about the government approval and about Kevin’s illegal drug testing and Jason and everything. I said I was going to hand in my resignation. He told me that I couldn’t resign; that I had to take over Kevin’s position and that I had to keep my mouth shut about the illegal tests.
“He became very angry. He said no one must know anything and that he knew people; that if I didn’t do what he said, he would have me killed.”
“Why didn’t you come to the police?”
“I thought about it and then Kevin died and I thought maybe George already knew about what Kevin had done and had sent those people to kill him. I was just too scared.”
She is sobbing again and Steve and I exchange looks. We have not got what we wanted from this meeting but I do think we got the truth.
Sandi grabs some tissues from the box on her desk and wipes her eyes.
“Thank you for telling us this, Ms. Palmer. You’ve been very helpful. You might like to know that we arrested Mr. Walsh last night and he is under guard at the hospital. Those people he threatened you with are a drug gang. We have several of them under arrest and their leader is dead. I don’t think you have anything to worry about now.”
She cannot take it all in at first but when it does settle, I can feel the waves of relief washing off her.
We get up and we walk to the elevators in awkward silence. She is probably composing her resignation letter in her mind. We are never going to like each other and hopefully we will never have to meet again.
“Can I ask you something Sandi?” I ask.
She shrugs.
“When I first came to see you here, why did you tell me about the illegal tests that Kevin had carried out?”
“Isn’t it obvious? George forced me to stay on at QX4 against my will. I figured that if I told you, you would use the information to pursue your investigation into Kevin’s death and that you would have no compunction about telling the world. If it came from you, George could not tie it back to me. QX4 would close down and I could leave. I just didn’t want you to tell Brad, in case it got back to George from him that I’d told you.”
Sandi was manipulating me. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.
It is not until we are in Steve’s car, on our way back to Main Street, that I remember the question that came to me during the interview, the one that I thought Steve missed.
58
Cal
Stammo is doing the interviewing now. And I am the interviewee or, to be more precise, the interrogatee. I have mixed feelings about Stammo: twice in the last couple of days he has stood up for me, in complete contrast to our former relationship, and yesterday he did some things that impressed me as a cop. But we still have that antipathy that has been there since we first met. And then it hits me: Stammo is fair. He doesn’t like me—and, to be honest, I’ve never given him a reason to do so—but if he thinks something is not fair, he will speak up for me. When Steve didn’t want me in on George’s arrest, Stammo told the Deputy Chief that he thought I had earned the right. It’s a side of him that I never observed before. We are never going to like each other but at least I can respect him now.
I have had my shot at George and at Sandi but both were misfires. Now I am the target in Kevin’s murder and Stammo has played this right. He has kept me waiting in the interview room for a while. Long enough for withdrawal to take a hold. Stammo wants it to distract me; make me slip up.
I want to get back to see Ellie, see how she is coping. But now I am getting this feeling that I am going to spend tonight and maybe a lot of other nights in a cell. Suddenly that possibility seems very real and it scares the hell out of me. Former cops do not fare well in prison. There are a lot of people inside that I put there, they would love to have me on their territory. Unless the one theory that I have brewing pans out, I may be heading for old home week at the Fraser Regional Correction Centre
“So, Rogan.” He is enjoying this. “Your attempt to implicate Walsh was a bomb and into the bargain, your other suspect, Sandi the girlfriend, is out of the frame. They nicely alibi each other. Unless she’s lying her ass off which Steve says he doubts.”
“She wasn’t.” Steve adds. “We checked the logs of the security system and, unless she or Walsh tampered with them, they show their check in and check out times.”
“I agree with Steve,” I say. I need them to hurry this along, finish this line of questioning.
Stammo continues with a smile, “So with Walsh and Palmer in the clear, that leaves you as the only suspect.”
“Except for Walsh’s
gang.” Steve comes to my defence “Walsh could have ordered it as a hit.”
Stammo shoots a glare at his partner. I know the deal here. They must have agreed Steve would take a run at my theory of the crime—that George was the killer, or possibly Sandi—and, if that came to nothing, then Stammo would have a free pass to go after me.
I surprise both of them by saying, “Nick’s right. The gang didn’t do it.”
“How do you know that?” Steve asks.
“Because he did it.” Stammo answers for me.
I force myself to chuckle, not for humour but to piss him off. “The reason they couldn’t have done it was that there was no sign of a struggle at the crime scene. Kevin wouldn’t have let a stranger into his place without a struggle. Furthermore, the killer would not have known that my jacket was there so he wouldn’t have known to smear it with Kevin’s blood.”
I give Stammo a false smile when I say this. I’m trying to hold it together but I can’t stop sniffing and the ache in my shoulders is getting bad.
“That’s all very nice,” Stammo says, “but the fact remains that, one,” he holds up a finger, “on your own admission, you were there around the time of the murder. Two, Wallace’s blood was on your jacket and three, you had a motive. Your buddy was tired of you changing your clothes at his house every week. He told you this and you freaked out and killed him.”
The thought that Kevin was going to cut me off from using his place to change my clothes stabs sharp in my gut. It goes against the very nature of the man. Kevin was nothing if not loyal. Loyalty was bred into him.
Loyalty, the word sets my mind on a new track so that I almost miss Stammo’s next pronouncement. He gives a smug smile. “I go with that Ocram guy. Y’know, the simple solution is the best one.”
This time my laughter is for humour
“It’s Occam, you dope. The principle is called Occam’s Razor.”
Steve’s quick reaction stops Stammo from reaching across the table and punching my lights out, or at least trying.
“Cal! You are not helping matters here.” Steve is madder than a wasp in a jar.
He’s right but I cannot keep myself from goading Stammo; it is so easy and such fun. But if I continue to do it, it will just prolong this.
Steve is not impressed. “It’s all very well making smart-assed remarks, Cal, but what Nick says is right. You are a viable suspect. The only viable suspect, in fact. So let’s cut the crap. If you have something to say, say it.”
Good. They have exhausted their questioning.
“OK, OK. I’m sorry.” I’m not. But what the hey. “There is one other possibility.”
I pause to get their attention.
“Steve, you believe that Sandi Palmer was telling the truth when we spoke to her this morning?”
Steve nods and I continue, “So do I. You did a great job. You asked a couple of questions that I wouldn’t have thought to ask. But there was one question that kept nagging at me and I never got the chance to ask it.”
“What?” Stammo asks.
“Steve, you remember when you asked Sandi what she did after she opened the courier envelope, the one which had the Health Canada approval in it?”
“Yeah. She said that she couldn’t get hold of Kevin, so she called Walsh. So?”
“There was a question I wanted to ask her.” I pull out my cellphone. “Have you got her mobile number there?” Steve supplies it and I dial.
“Sandi. It’s Cal. I want to ask you one other question… Yeah, just one… On the Friday evening, after you opened the envelope with the approval for the trials, you said you tried to get hold of Kevin. What did you actually do to try to get hold of him?” I listen carefully to her reply. “Do you remember exactly what you said to them?” She replies in the affirmative and gives me the details. I thank her and hang up.
Then I look at my pay-as-you-go cellphone and another random thought leaps into my mind.
I look at the questioning expressions across the table.
And tell them, carefully and with conviction.
Stammo doesn’t want to buy it but I’m guessing Steve knows I didn’t kill Kevin.
They leave the room. I hope they don’t leave me here for too long. I need to get what’s in my jacket and head to a restroom.
But they return quickly and it’s a go.
59
Arnold
I bring the Rolls Royce to a halt in front of the Main Street police station. It is as out of place here as a debutante at a soccer match, drawing sullen stares from most of the passersby. One ragged degenerate actually spits at it.
After a longer time than politeness allows, Rogan comes through the brass doors and gets in the car beside me. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” he says with what I judge to be a minimum of sincerity. I keep silent.
“Thanks for coming, Arnold.”
I check my mirror, pull away from the curb and, without signalling, do a U-turn. As I come to the lights at Hastings, I check my mirror again and it is as I suspected. A black Ford, a Crown Victoria, is doing a U turn behind me.
“Why did you want to see me Mr. Rogan?” I ask.
“First, Arnold, I want to give you an update for Mr. Wallace. Last night, the police arrested George Walsh and several of his associates. However, we discovered this morning that it is unlikely that any of them were responsible for Kevin’s death.”
After a moment’s silence, I prompt him. “Walsh’s arrest is good news. So, who did kill Kevin?”
“Arnold, what would you say is your most prized quality?” He has answered my question with one of his own. I know where he is going with this.
“Loyalty and perhaps courage.”
“Yes. When I first spoke to Mr. Wallace about Kevin’s death, do you know what he said to me about you, Arnold? He said, ‘He is completely loyal to this family.’”
“That is true, Mr. Rogan.”
“How far would that loyalty go, Arnold?” he asks.
I can answer that without any dissembling. “I would happily lay down my life for either Mr. or Mrs. Wallace.”
He waits a beat before continuing. “Arnold, you told me that you drove Mrs. Wallace to Kevin’s townhouse at seven-thirty in the morning of the Saturday that Kevin was killed.”
“And?” I ask.
“At the time I wondered why Mrs. Wallace would choose to go visiting so early in the morning. I also asked how you knew that Kevin had been conducting illegal testing of the Addi-Ban drug but you refused to tell me.” He waits for me to talk but I decline. He shrugs, “I found the answer to both questions about an hour ago. On Friday evening, Sandi called the Wallace’s house trying to find Kevin. You answered the phone and when you told her that Kevin was not there, she asked to speak to Mrs. Wallace. She told Mrs. Wallace all about the testing and about the fact that the test subjects had died. Mrs. Wallace started crying and Sandi said that she heard your voice in the background asking her what was wrong.”
I have to admit that Cal’s skills as a detective are first class. “Well done,” I congratulate him. “Mrs. Wallace did indeed tell me what Kevin had done. We agreed that she should talk to him first thing on Saturday and find out if what Ms. Palmer had told her was true.”
“How did you feel about what he had done Arnold?” he asks me.
I can feel the rage boiling up inside me again. I check the mirror and see that the unmarked police car is still behind me. I glance across at Cal and he is watching me like a hawk. A couple of deep breaths calm me enough that I can answer his question.
“Frankly, I was appalled. I felt that Kevin had completely betrayed his family and everything that they stand for. I was beside myself with anger. I could not tolerate the fact that Mrs. Wallace had to bear the burden of what Kevin had done and I will do anything to ensure that Mr. Wallace never finds out.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see him nodding. “Arnold,” he says, his voice not much more than a whisper, “I completely believe that you would die
to protect Mr. and Mrs. Wallace and I have to wonder if you would also kill to protect them?”
“Yes, Mr. Rogan, I would.” I cannot keep the pride from my voice.
“After you drove Mrs. Wallace home from Kevin’s house that Saturday morning, you went back, didn’t you, Arnold?”
How the hell does he know that? Is it just a guess on his part or did someone actually see me? A lie at this point would not be a good idea. “Yes, Mr. Rogan, I did. I even ‘borrowed’ Mrs. Wallace’s key to the townhouse.”
And here comes the big question.
“Arnold. Did you kill Kevin?”
“No, Mr. Rogan. When I arrived there, Mr. Kevin did not reply to the doorbell, so I used the key. He was already dead.”
He digests this information and I add, “If he had been alive, I cannot say for a certainty that I would not have killed him myself.”
“Why didn’t you call the police?” He asks.
I have asked myself that question at least one hundred times. “I really don’t know.”
“Arnold, did you take my jacket and smear Kevin’s blood on it?”
His question stuns me. Does this mean that someone tried to frame him? Who would know to do that?
He stares intently at me. I am rarely intimidated but I find myself wilting under his steady gaze.
We have arrived at the main pavilion at Vancouver General Hospital. I pull into the drop off area.
“Just two more things,” he says. “First, you popped up on the street after my lunch with Brad and then again when I was in the hospital. How did you know where I was?”
I was wondering if he would ask this. “Mr. Wallace told me of his intention to ask you to investigate Kevin’s death. So when you came to the house on the day of Kevin’s funeral, I put a GPS chip with a transmitter into the lining of your coat. Later, I put another, larger one in that nice backpack you have with you now.”
He looks stunned and reaches for the door handle.
“You had a second question?” I ask.
Cal Rogan Mysteries, Books 1, 2 & 3 (Box Set) Page 33
