Chief Talbot closed the door and took the chair at the end of the table. “All right, we have one or two psychos out there. We need results. Where are we at?” The detectives informed Talbot they were going out to the Megapower manufacturing plant immediately.
Thorpe and Collins parked outside the large manufacturing plant in the industrial area east of Edmonton. The bright blue sign on the building proudly displayed “Gervais Manufacturing.” The detectives had an appointment with Claude Gervais. The owner of the business seemed hesitant, claiming he was busy, but finally agreed to see the policemen when they indicated another bottle of his product was tampered with.
Mr. Gervais’s assistant showed the two detectives into a conference room. A few minutes later Claude Gervais entered the room. He was middle-aged and a little overweight. Gervais sat across from the detectives, his right hand shaking noticeably.
Thorpe smiled at the businessman to try and get him to relax. “Thank you for giving up some of your valuable time, Mr. Gervais. I’m afraid we have another homicide linked to your company. We’re here to find out what connects the three murders.”
“I’ll do what I can to help, but I’m at a loss as to why someone is doing this to me.”
Thorpe and Collins both noticed Gervais was taking it personally. The trick now was to try and pry the information out of him.
“We’re here to help you with that,” said Collins. “Everything is pointing to your company and we want to make sure the string of tragic deaths comes to an end. Now, the young lady who died yesterday Donna Kirkpatrick, were you acquainted with her?”
“No, never heard of her.” Gervais answered too quickly.
“Here’s a picture of her. It might help jog your memory.” Thorpe slid a picture of the fit, blonde woman.”
Gervais glanced at the photo and shook his head. “Sorry.”
Gervais mind darted back to a picture of his wife taking the whole company if she found out he was having an affair with Donna. Gervais had been careful to cover his tracks until he was able to get a reasonable divorce settlement and the company was debt-free. But things were moving too quickly, he needed time to think, time to make a plan.
Who would want to do this to me? Claude cast wildly about in his mind, aware the detectives were scrutinizing him at the same time. His wife? No, through twenty-three years of marriage he could sense what his wife was thinking. His former employer, Robert Clelland? He was dead. Who else would want to do this to him and his company?
Collins was convinced Gervais was holding back information and decided to press him a bit. “We only have sketchy information on who might be behind this. Witnesses indicate it is likely two tall men. Does that bring anybody to mind?”
Gervais forced himself to give it some thought. He leaned back in the chair. “No, nobody comes to mind, but I will call you if I think of anything.”
“Very well, Mr. Gervais, but we would like to post officers outside your house and business. You may be in danger.”
“Of course. Thank you.”
Gervais saw the detectives to the door and returned to his office. The detectives left the building. Gervais ordered his secretary to make sure he was not disturbed. After pouring himself another drink he dropped onto his leather sofa. He was certain he knew who was behind the murders. How can I tell the police without risking losing the business? If my wife finds out I had a mistress, she’ll kill me with her bare hands. And what if they find out about my connections to organized crime? Those boys made it abundantly clear nobody can ever know about the arrangements. He drained the half-full glass in a swallow and refilled it to the brim.
A few breaths later the glass shattered against the wall. “Those damn Clelland twins.”
* * *
Ken returned to the apartment and found Eric watching a local news channel. His twin handed Eric a strawberry milkshake. Ken dropped onto the couch beside him as the press conference began. The Chief of Police announced the death of the officers. He muttered about pursuing several leads and asked the public for assistance.
“If anybody was in the area and saw anything suspicious, please call the police,” said the Chief.
“How did that guy make Chief?” Eric scratched his nose.
Ken jumped up pressed the button that moved the cabinet revealing the safe. “Let’s have a look, shall we?”
Eric joined Ken and they opened the safe. Eric returned to his milkshake and Ken pulled out the book with the list of potential victims.
Ken flipped pages. “Let’s see…no, the Chief is not well liked … however, the Deputy Chief is destined to replace him. He’s well liked, and on our list. That bastard was one of them”
“How much more, Ken? I really don’t want to get caught and spend the rest of my life in jail.”
“Won’t happen. I think it’s time we made our final moves and hit the beach.”
Eric said nothing.
“Relax, look at how well thought out the last few tasks were. Besides, think of the rush.”
“Fine, the big hits, then we go home, right?”
“Okay, Eric, the final few, and we’re done.”
Eric flipped to the picture of the next victim. The man stared back at them resplendent in his decorated uniform. Eric began to shake. “This is going into the lion’s den, Ken.”
“We don’t go into any lion’s den, we skirt it. That’s what make’s the plan so sweet.”
“Fine, fine, let’s just do it.”
He tossed the book on the table, the picture of Deputy Police Chief Robert Murray staring up at them.
Chapter Five
Collins and Thorpe arrived at Police headquarters to find four task forces in different stages of preparation waiting to assist them in the hunt for the killers. The department heads were shouting orders. Off duty officers were called in heedless of the cost to the police department or the city.
They filled in Captain McCoy on their findings. The Captain dispatched officers to watch Gervais’ home and business. The detectives reported they believed Gervais knew more than he was telling.
“Understood, we’ll have to dig up information on our own. See what you can find out about Gervais Industries. There has to be a link. And talk to Mrs. Gervais.” Captain McKoy spoke in clipped phrases.
“We’re on it,” said Thorpe.
On the highway between Edmonton and Sherwood Park the two detectives took note of the gleaming Gervais manufacturing complex to their right. Every instinct told them the thriving family business was somehow the centre of the killings. The Gervais residential estate was as fresh and modern as the manufacturing building. The house was wide and three stories high. Its garden was immature, a sparse collection of tree waifs and lonely clusters of flowers. The house dominated the property as well as the street. The property screamed new money and ostentatious tastes.
A young, attractive maid opened the large oak front door when they knocked. Both Collins and Thorpe wondered whether Mrs. or Mr. Gervais hired her.
The maid showed them to comfortable chairs on the elaborate patio and the detectives waited a few minutes before Mrs. Gervais made her entrance. She curtly dismissed the maid and sat across from them. She appeared tired in spite of the expensive makeup and designer sunglasses. Something was on her mind, perhaps more than the business difficulties experienced by Megapower.
Mrs. Gervais crossed her legs. “Now, how may I help you gentlemen?”
“First, thank you for seeing us on such short notice, Mrs. Gervais,” said Thorpe. “We know these are trying times.”
Her posture remained wary, lips pursed in silence.
Thorpe continued, “Detective Collins and I have a few additional questions, if we may?”
Again no response.
Collins leaned forward, using his notebook as a buffer between the passive aggressive lady and himself.
“Mrs. Gervais, our questions relate to business matters at Gervais Industries.”
“Well, you’ll have to speak
to Claude about that. He keeps a tight reign on corporate issues.”
Collins quickly moved on to ease the tension in the room. “We have talked to your husband, but hoped you might give us a fresh perspective.”
“Well, if I must. I’ll do what I can.”
“Thank you. First of all, can you think of any business associates that might want to cause harm to your husband?”
Mrs. Gervais waited a bit too long. “Claude’s business is very competitive. He’s been very lucky the last few years. I suppose there may be some competitors who are upset at losing business to us.”
“Who was his main competition, or more precisely, who has he taken the most business from” asked Collins.
Mrs. Gervais ran her finger back and forth on the glass tabletop. “Well, I suppose the company most hurt by ours would be Clelland Industries.”
“Are they in Edmonton” asked Collins.
“Were,” Thorpe broke in. “They closed their plant in the west-end of the city about a year and a half ago.”
“Yes.” Mrs. Gervais twisted her ring uneasily. “Um, my husband worked for them before opening his own company.”
Thorpe and Collins glanced at each other.
Thorpe opened his phone and started taking notes. “Was there any animosity when your husband left Clelland Industries?”
“Well, they were surprised, I suppose. Claude built a modern plant that was difficult for Clelland to compete against. We simply could make the products cheaper. Mr. Clelland passed away about a year ago, his wife the year before.”
Thorpe and Collins thanked Mrs. Gervais for her assistance. “We’ll be in touch as soon as we have more information.”
The detectives left the house and climbed into Thorpe’s sedan. Collins rubbed his temples. “Man, maybe we’re finally getting somewhere. But with both owners of the competitor’s company deceased we need to find someone who knows if there was enough animosity to cause someone else involved in Clelland to go after Gervais in such an aggressive manor.”
Thorpe nodded and smiled. “I know just the person.” Thorpe opened his door and got out of the car. He leaned back in and tossed the keys to Collins. “Here Jim, you drive. I’ll try and track down the man who may be able to give us some answers.”
Collins hopped behind the wheel of the car while Thorpe pulled out his cell. The sedan pulled away from the Gervais house and soon dashed along the freeway on its way back to Edmonton.
“Hey Sully, Albert Thorpe. How’s it going?”
“The shits. You?”
“About the same. Look Sully, I need your help. Can we stop by?”
“Sure, but bring me a coffee, and none of that designer crap. Coffee, black, strong, and extra-large. Oh, and tell my secretary that it’s yours. Sylvia has her watching what I eat and drink.”
Thorpe ended the call. “We have to make a stop at a coffee shop on the way, but he’ll see us.”
“Knows his stuff?”
“None better. I’ve known Sully for twenty years. He’s been writing a column for one of the papers on the comings and goings of Edmonton business for forty years. Just one thing, he’s not exactly polished.”
“No sweat.”
Thorpe laughed. “Some sweat, you’ll see.”
Collins gave Thorpe a quizzical look.
Despite the heads-up from Thorpe, Collins wasn’t ready for Sullivan or his office. The man weighed over three hundred pounds and poured over the armrests of his old wooden office chair. His desk was covered with enough business journals and notepads to confirm he kept informed on business matters. Sullivan pushed himself out of the chair to greet the two detectives. He grabbed the coffee first, and then shook hands with his two visitors as he sipped the hot coffee. Thorpe explained Collins was from the Toronto PD.
Thorpe walked behind Sullivan’s desk. “Holy shit Sully, a computer.” Thorpe touched a key and the screen lit up. “And it’s on.”
“Kiss my ass, Albert. I had no choice. All of the information is on that thing these days. I’m getting used to it.” Sully laughed then coughed. He pointed to the door to the outer office. “I have Emily out there put the sites I need in the “favourites”. Don’t know what the hell I would do without her.”
“Sit down. Sit down.” Sullivan reached for a stick of nicotine gum. “God damn non-smoking rules.”
Sully tossed the empty gum package in an overflowing garbage can. “How’s the missus?”
“Same as ever. Busy with the kids,” responded Thorpe.
Sullivan looked at Collins. “You married, Jim.”
“Yeah, twenty-two years.”
“No shit, never lasted that long with any of my wives, maybe the next one. Well, how can I help you, old friend?”
“Sully, we need to know what killed Clelland Industries … and Sully, not just the official stuff. We need to know who might be really pissed off the company went belly-up. I mean really pissed off.”
Sullivan’s wry smile told both detectives that the chubby reporter knew what the detectives wanted to know. “This must be important if both the Edmonton and Toronto police are involved.”
“Your reporter instincts are as good as ever, Sully. It’s important.”
“All right, Albert, stop sucking up. I’ll help any way I can.” The fat man took another long pull at his coffee. “Well, over two-hundred people lost their jobs when Clelland folded, from workers on the line to upper management. I know that the pension fund was protected so the older workers pretty much landed on their feet through early retirement. As for the others....well, Edmonton had plenty of jobs. The ones that wanted to work found it quickly.”
Collins leaned forward, “How did Mr. Clelland take it?”
“Shit, it killed the old man. Poor bastard, he lost the business he built from the ground up and then promptly lost his wife, who died of cancer six months later.”
“So what caused the business to collapse so quickly?” asked Collins.
Sully reached for another caffeine gum from a new package in the desk drawer. He chewed the gum and leaned back. The wooden chair squeaked under the strain. “Well, the official word is that the company failed to update its equipment in order to compete with the growing number of competitors.”
“And the real reason?” asked Thorpe.
“Albert, what I heard was the thing that killed Clelland Industries was losing their chance to use the new formula for their sport drink. It was less expensive to manufacture and was getting great reviews in taste tests.”
The heavy reporter sipped and savored the coffee, a few drops joining others on his frayed tie. “Clelland was preparing to rebuild his plant and start focusing on this new product, let alone the private labeling.”
Thorpe stopped writing. “What’s private labeling?”
Sullivan continued, “Private labeling is when a retailer has a product, anything from toilet paper to tires, made with their own brand name on it. The retailer benefits because they can market their own brand and also get a lower cost-per-unit because they don’t pay for advertising of the national brand.”
“This is big business?”
“Big? Sullivan laughed. “The Clelland’s hung their whole future on it. The new formula allowed them to compete with the big multi-nationals. It was going to be a whole new level. But they ran into two problems. One of their long-term managers liked the idea enough that he secretly built a plant on the other side of the city and had eighty percent of the market locked up in four-year contracts. Clelland never even had a chance to order the new equipment. Hell, his new competitor built a second plant in Ontario and that was the end of the sport drink business for the Clelland family.”
“How does someone build a plant of that size without anybody knowing about it?” asked Collins.
“Good question. It was done through dummy corporations giving the impression they were building a bottled water plant.” Sullivan finished the coffee “Fooled everybody. Christ, they fooled me.”
Thorpe cau
ght up on the notes in his phone. “Although I think I know the answer to this, could you tell us the name of this former Clelland employee who stole their future?”
“Oh, indeed I can, laddies, indeed I can. That man’s name is Claude Gervais.”
Sullivan grudgingly pried himself out of his chair and walked over to the window. He pointed to the southwest. “The Clelland family had a great reputation in the community. Mrs. Clelland was involved in multiple charities and the arts. When they lost their business the old man was embarrassed and secluded himself in their house until he died a few months after his wife. Only his private nurse and doctor were permitted to see him.”
“He died poor?”
“Hell, no. He lost a lot of income when he had to shut down the business, but Clelland was a cautious man. That was part of the reason they were slow to react to the changing market. He took too much time to make the change. But, at the same time his conservative ways saved those pension funds I mentioned. He would never have touched the money that gave the workers security for their retirement. He had saved plenty of money for himself. As well, they had several other investments to help them live a comfortable life. His estate was conservatively estimated at twenty to twenty-five million at his death. I’m sure his boys are living quite comfortably.”
Thorpe shot a glance at Collins then focused on the journalist who eased himself back into his chair. “Boys? What boys?”
“The Clelland’s had twin boys.”
“Tall boys, Sully.”
“Christ, yeah.” Sullivan lifted his plump hand high in the air. “Eric was named after his paternal grandfather and Ken shared the name of his father.”
“Any idea where we can find Eric and Kenneth?”
“Hell if I know. Both were educated in Europe. I know they were back in Edmonton when their father died. I saw them at the funeral. Bolted out of town right away, though. They left the business dealings to the lawyers and accountants.”
Rough Business Page 5
