Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at her door. She opened it and saw Constable Martin.
“I’d like to ask you some questions. May I come in?”
Once they were settled, Elizabeth on her bed, the constable on the chair at the desk, Martin began gathering her information.
“We are investigating the death of Harry Wilson. Would you please describe how he was found?”
Going slow to make sure she remembered everything, she took the officer through the trail ride and the discovery of the body and then answered her questions about Harry showing up at the B&B Saturday night.
“Did you know Mr. Wilson?”
“No, not before I met him Saturday night.”
“Before this trip, have you ever met the McNealys or Mrs. Wilson?”
“No.”
“Why did you pick this bed and breakfast over the hotels or other B&B’s?”
“I wanted to go on a trail ride.”
“Thank you, Ms. Oliver,” Martin said. She left the room.
Elizabeth wasn’t sure what to do now. She was hungry and thought about the canned goods in her Tracker. She went down the stairs. The police had gone. Brian and Cindy sat at their table while Peggy and Shirley were at Elizabeth’s table. She must have been the last one questioned. Shirley and Peggy had made some sandwiches and placed them with coffee and juice on the sideboard for everyone to eat. Elizabeth got a plate and helped herself.
“Where’s Stormie?” Elizabeth asked Shirley. Maybe she’d want the distraction of playing with Chevy.
“Al is taking her to stay with a neighbour until this is over,” Shirley said, as Elizabeth joined her and Peggy at the table.
Elizabeth surmised that no one wanted to talk about the day. And she didn’t blame them. This had turned into a nightmare. She didn’t doubt for a moment that this time Harry had been murdered. And after the unpleasant scene Saturday night, the people in this room could be suspects.
Fort Macleod was certainly going to be back at the top of the news stories.
Elizabeth thought about her theory of Harry and Brian being related. Would now be a good time to point out the similarities?
“Peggy, was Harry from around here?”
It took a moment for Peggy to focus on her. “What?”
“I’ve heard that Harry moved here from somewhere else, that he wasn’t born and raised here. Is that true?”
“Yes. He came from a small town in southwestern Ontario.”
“What’s the name of it?” Elizabeth looked at Brian, but he didn’t seem to be paying attention. He was talking quietly with Cindy.
“I don’t remember.”
“Does he have any family other than you and Shirley?” She raised her voice a little.
“He never talked much about it. I think he has a sister back in Ontario but there was some bad blood between them.”
She watched Brian. He had stopped talking with Cindy but hadn’t picked up on their conversation. Peggy had just said that Harry came from a small town in southwestern Ontario, just like Brian’s father, Allen. How could she get him to see the connection? She couldn’t come right out and say it without letting him know she’d overheard his and Cindy’s conversation, but she was sure Allen had changed his name to Harry Wilson when he’d come to these parts. The coincidence of Brian’s grandmother’s name being Harriet was just too great.
She decided to leave it be for now which left her with three choices for the rest of the evening. She could go to her room and put this all into her file, take Chevy for a walk, or stay here. Chevy began whining. He knew what time it was. She looked out the window. It was still light out.
“I’ll be back soon,” she told Shirley and Peggy.
As she walked, she went over the many reasons she could think of for Harry being murdered. It might be because of the money Peggy had received from the sale. Either she or Shirley or Al could have resented the fact that Harry might profit from Peggy’s hard work. Then there was Reverend Raymond. He had threatened Harry again. Had he really wanted revenge for Harry running off with his wife so many years ago? Or, and this one was a stretch, it could have been any of the husbands of the women Harry had had affairs with. That’s assuming they’d still held a grudge.
It wasn’t until she was back in the yard and saw Raymond’s car that she remembered he had been out all night last night. She’d seen him return this morning when she’d retrieved her jeans from the Tracker.
The events of the past week had finally got to Peggy and her family. Breakfast the next morning consisted of toast and scrambled eggs. Elizabeth was amazed that they’d even managed this much. After all, since the beginning they’d known they were innocent of killing Harry. Now things had changed and it was possible there could be a murderer among them or their guests.
It was a subdued group who sat in the dining room eating. Not that there had been much group activity at the tables before. But the air was different. A man who had been known to them was now a dead body. He had been murdered, and close by.
Brian ate little and Cindy had a glass of milk. Reverend Raymond, who sat at Elizabeth’s table, pushed his eggs around on his plate.
Elizabeth watched Brian and Cindy go up to their rooms. They were probably getting ready to continue their quest to find Brian’s father. She still wished she could come up with a way of getting them to see the connection with Harry. She was so sure there was one that she was seriously thinking of blurting it out to them. When she looked at Shirley and Cindy she could even see a resemblance. Both were short, slim and dark haired. Even the hair that was left on Brian’s head was dark. Maybe these weren’t very distinguishing features but they certainly were persuasive to her. After all, one never totally resembled members of their family.
As she was thinking of Brian’s hair, Elizabeth suddenly remembered the historical book given to her by Martha Davidson and realized where she’d seen the name Harriet. Harriet Barber, Martha’s mother. Could she be Brian’s grandmother? That would make Martha and Harry half brother and sister. And Brian and Shirley half brother and sister, which meant they had unknowingly committed incest.
But how would Brian feel knowing that his father had been so close and was now dead? And to make the trauma worse, he had been part of the troop that had found the body.
“My, but you’re deep in thought.”
Raymond’s comment startled her.
“I’ve been talking to you. I wasn’t sure if you didn’t hear me or were ignoring me.”
“Sorry. I didn’t hear you.”
He nodded. “I was just commenting that I’d heard you were writing a travel article on the area.”
“Yes.”
“What are you going to put in it?”
She answered almost by rote. “The sights and attractions to see, some history, some anecdotes, some stories about the people who live or have lived here. Things like that.”
“Has this murder investigation hampered you at all?”
“Not really. I’ve been able to come and go as I please. If anything, the rain was more of a problem for a while.” She moved automatically into questioning mode. “Are you still a minister?”
He shook his head.
“Why not?”
“I kind of lost my faith about nine years ago,” he said sadly.
“When your wife left?”
“Yes. I’d been preaching His word for ten years and I couldn’t understand why the Lord would do that to me.”
Elizabeth could only imagine what being abandoned by a spouse must have felt like. Probably it was close to losing a parent whom you loved.
“But I heard you transferred to another church.”
“I did but I only lasted there six months.” He rubbed his face with his hands. “It just wasn’t in me to preach anymore.”
Elizabeth felt sorry for him. He sounded so lost. He must have loved his wife very much.
“Why did you say that Harry always gets what he wants?” she asked.
/> “Well, he was a smooth talker. He could convince just about everyone to see things his way, and he never had any trouble getting a woman to sleep with him. Including my wife,” he added quietly.
“You said that everything was your fault.” Elizabeth recalled their last conversation. “What did you mean by that?”
Raymond’s eyes got a faraway look to them. “Julia and I were married for five years when we moved to Fort Macleod so I could take over the pastoral services at the United Church. At first everything was fine. We liked it here, enjoyed meeting the congregation, and were talking about having a child. Peggy and Shirley came to church regularly and attended many of the church functions but Harry refused to come. I took that as my mission and spent much of my time trying to make Harry see the error of his ways. Julia and I invited Peggy and Harry over for meals and Bible discussions. Soon it seemed as if my efforts were paying off. Harry would come on his own initiative without an invitation. We’d talk and if I had to leave on church business Julia would continue ministering to Harry. Little did I know the extent of those ministrations.”
“So you think if you hadn’t been trying to convert Harry, none of this would be happening now.” Elizabeth didn’t agree with his self-criticism. He must have been a very caring person to try and help Harry.
“Well, not all of it. Julia and I would still be married with two or three kids. Harry and Peggy might still be married or would have divorced on their own accord, dividing up their property. Things might have been more civil.”
“You did threaten Harry at the time, and again on Saturday night.” It all seemed to come back to that.
“I had nothing to do with his death,” he said quickly, holding up his hands. “But looking back now I realize that I overreacted both times. It was Julia I should have been mad at. After all, she was the one who was married to me, not Harry. She was the one who wrecked our marriage.”
“What about the skeleton?”
“That, I can’t account for.”
“What have you been doing since you left here?”
“Mainly trying to help teenagers get off the streets of Calgary.”
That struck her as being quite a noble activity. “Were you really convinced that your wife’s bones were buried on the acreage?” The questions were coming randomly as she thought of them.
“I don’t know. I haven’t heard from her in nine years. It could have been possible.”
“What do you think now?”
“Nothing,” he said, tiredly. “For the past nine years my mind has gone over our marriage trying to see where I failed her. Right now I have no more capacity to think. My mind just refuses to go into it again.”
She nodded compassionately “You’ve been keeping some late nights.” He’d usually been out when she went to bed.
“Yes. Most of my work is done during the night and I’ve become used to staying up until the wee hours.”
Well, that could explain it. “What have you been doing here at night?” She didn’t know if there were many kids who spent time on the streets of Fort Macleod.
“Not much. Driving around looking at where we lived, my old church, where we would go for picnics, things like that. I’ve had a couple of meetings with the present minister of the church. A couple of times I’ve strolled along that same path where Harry was found, but otherwise I’ve stayed in my room and read like I did last night.”
“How did you know about the path? I wasn’t told about it.”
“Neither was I. I saw the trail across the field made by the horses and followed it.”
“Are you going back to Calgary?”
“I don’t know.”
Shirley came in to pick up the plates.
“It was nice chatting with you,” Raymond said, standing.
Chapter 19
Elizabeth wasn’t checking out this morning as she had planned. She was going to read the book Martha Davidson had given her and she was going to do it where Brian Sinclair would have to walk past her.
She went to her room and found the book. She also copied Martha’s phone number onto a piece of paper. Brian would want it once he heard how she had connected all the facts together. She went back down and sat at the patio table on the verandah. When he didn’t come down immediately she opened the book and began reading.
She hadn’t read very far when she heard the door open and looked up. Brian came out alone. He glanced at her sitting there then started down the steps.
Elizabeth closed the book, leaving it face up on her lap, and got right to the point. “I’ve heard you’re looking for your father and grandmother.”
He stopped. “Where did you hear that?”
She shrugged hoping he wouldn’t press the matter. “I’ve got a theory about who your father is.”
“What do you mean ’who’ he is? I know who he is.”
“You do?” Elizabeth was baffled. If he knew Harry was his father why hadn’t he told the police or Peggy, or Shirley his half-sister? And he didn’t seem unhappy or depressed that he hadn’t been able to let Harry know before he died. Maybe Harry would have treated him differently if he’d known.
“Yes. I just don’t know where he is.”
Talk about confusion now. Surely he knew that the body would be in a morgue.
“I think they took the body to Lethbridge,” Elizabeth said, gently.
“What body?” Brian came and sat at the table with her.
“Harry’s.”
He looked at her strangely. “I know. What has that got to do with my father?”
“Well …” There was just no other way to say this. “Harry’s your father.”
“Harry?” He looked as perplexed as she felt.
She didn’t know what to say. Evidently, they weren’t on the same page, but he had said he knew who his father was. Did that mean she was wrong? If so, how embarrassing!
“I thought that your father may have changed his name to Harry because Harriet was your grandmother’s name,” she explained.
“How did you know what my grandmother’s name was?”
Elizabeth felt herself redden. Not only had she put her foot in her mouth, she’d stretched it wide enough for both feet, with shoes on.
“I accidentally overheard you and Cindy talking before the trail ride.”
“How could you accidentally overhear?” he asked, skeptically.
“I was coming out of my room when you two were in your room. Your door was open.”
“Oh.” He thought for a moment before saying. “So you think Harry is my father because the names Harry and Harriet are so close.”
“Yes, and because Harry came from a small town in Ontario like, your father did.”
“You sure overhear a lot.”
She grinned sheepishly. What could she say?
“So, if what you are telling me is true, when my father came here he changed his name to Harry Wilson.”
“Yes. Kind of like you not using your real name.”
He nodded as if agreeing with the comparison. “But if he was looking for my grandmother, why would he have married and had a child and made no mention of his mother to his wife?”
“Maybe she had died, or they didn’t get along, or he gave up.”
Brian was quiet for a while. “You could be right,” he admitted. Then he jerked upright. “That would mean that Shirley and I are half brother and sister.”
Elizabeth nodded.
He shuddered. “My God. That would be terrible.”
Elizabeth picked up the book and held it out to him.
“What’s this?”
“It’s a book I was given. Look at the name on the back.”
Brian turned it over. “Harriet Barber.” He scrutinized the picture. “You’re telling me this is my grandmother?”
“I don’t know. She died two years ago.”
“Where did you get this?”
“From Harriet’s daughter, Martha Davidson.”
“Whom you believe to be
my aunt.”
“Could be,” Elizabeth said.
“Do you have proof of any of this?”
“No. Just a lot of coincidences.”
“Is this the same Martha Davidson who owned the acreage before the Wilsons?” Brian asked.
“Yes.”
“She lives in Lethbridge, right?”
“Right. I can give you her phone number if you’d like.”
“Okay.”
Elizabeth handed him the piece of paper.
“You were pretty sure I would want it,” he said, taking it from her hand. He held up the book. “May I borrow this to read?”
Elizabeth nodded. Mission accomplished.
* * * *
A phone message was ending when Elizabeth entered the kitchen to see if she could help with something.
“… if you could let us know when you have decided where and when the funeral is. Thank you.”
Peggy, who had been loading dishes into the dishwasher, just stared at the answering machine. Shirley stopped washing the counter.
“A funeral?” Shirley asked.
Peggy looked at her. “I hadn’t thought of a funeral.”
“Neither had I. And I don’t think we owe him anything, let alone a funeral.”
Peggy shook her head. “He still has to make our lives difficult.”
Al entered the back door. He looked from Shirley to Peggy. “What now?”
Shirley went and pressed the button. The female voice came on again. “Hello Peggy and Shirley. This is Pat and Owen phoning. We just heard about Harry. We never did believe that he was the one in the tank. How appalling to hear that he did return and now has been murdered. We would like to offer our condolences and we would appreciate it if you could let us know when you have decided where and when the funeral is. Thank you.”
“You’re planning a funeral?” Al asked, when it was over.
“Definitely not!” Shirley cried.
“Well, I don’t know,” Peggy said, hesitantly.
“Mom! You can’t be serious.”
The Travelling Detective: Boxed Set Page 22
