by Vicki Delany
“Let me repeat the question, Ms. Barton. Did you visit your cousins since coming to town before moving in with them?”
“Yes, I did. Amy’s a retard but she’s an okay person. I went over for dinner once.”
“Once?”
Her eyes jumped between the men. “Once. Twice maybe.”
“What did you talk about at dinner?”
“I didn’t tell them they’d find Rudy alone in his room in the evening and they could bump him off, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“That’s not what I’m asking.”
“We talked about family mostly. Who’s doing what. Jobs, children.”
“Jobs?”
“Yes jobs. My sister Fran’s a law clerk and she got a new job in Toronto. If you want the address of the firm I’ll get it for you.”
“Did you talk about Amy’s job?”
It was almost imperceptible, but Diane’s face relaxed and she lost some of the tension in her shoulders. She lowered her glasses over the bridge of her nose and rubbed at her eyes.
“Amy’s job?” she said, when she could see again.
He said nothing. Farzaneh looked confused, but Lopez almost grinned in understanding.
Barton’s eyes slid to one side. She glanced at the camera mounted on the wall. “Amy’s a retard. She doesn’t have a job.”
“Amy might be slightly mentally handicapped,” Winters said, “but I’ve found her to be bright and engaging. Some people, people others might make fun of, have no need to deceive. They tell the truth, when asked, because they have no reason not to.”
“Yeah, well, some people make things up too.”
“So they do.”
“You know what I think? I think this is a way of getting at me for that fight the other day. It wasn’t me who bopped the blond cop. You should be talking to Josie, but I guess you don’t want to bother her. After all, she’s staying at the hotel, not on the couch of a relative’s cheap apartment.” She placed her hands on the table. The shaking had stopped, and her leg was still.
“The matter of the altercation between you and Mrs. Steiner isn’t our concern right now. Nor is the death of Mr. Steiner.”
Something moved behind Diane’s eyes, and Winters’ nerves stood to attention.
“I’m asking you,” he said with great care, “if Amy told you about her new job.”
“Now that you mention it, she might have said something. She’s so proud of some stupid minimum wage gig, you’d think she hit the jackpot.”
“Perhaps for Amy her job is good enough.”
“Whatever.” Barton waved one hand in the air. She’d relaxed, and as he spoke Winters’ thoughts raced back over the conversation.
“Tell me what she had to say about this job.”
“She walks dogs and picks up their shit. Fun, eh? She babbled on like the moron she is about how important it is to clean up after the dogs because you don’t want to dirty the park.”
Winters could imagine what had happened. Barton had paid a courtesy call on her cousins because her mother told her to. That done, she wouldn’t have given them the time of day again, except for something that Amy let slip about her job.
“She talk about the clients?”
“No. Just the dogs. How much they like her.”
“Ms. Barton, Amy told one of our officers that you asked her about the clients’ schedule. Specifically who was going to be away for an extended period of time. Can you tell me what interest you have in that?”
“Making polite chit-chat, pretending I give a fuck.”
“Not.” Lopez spoke for the first time. “The sort of thing I’d ask just to be friendly.”
“I really don’t care what you’d ask.”
“Ms. Barton. Why did you ask Amy Stanford about the vacation schedules of the regular clients at Debby’s Dog Centre?”
“No reason,” she said.
Winters stood up. “Diane Barton, I am arresting you for breaking and entering 702 Station Street on April 7th. It is my duty to inform you…” He finished the statement. “Do you have anything to say?”
She looked at him. She mouthed the words, “Fuck you.” Her eyes were dark with anger, but there was something missing, and he almost hesitated.
“Detective Lopez, take Ms. Barton downstairs and meet me in my office.”
Winters walked out, Farzaneh following.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Winters was standing at the window when Ray Lopez walked into the GIS office. Diane Barton had been checked in and a legal aid lawyer called.
Winters turned. “We’re going to have to move fast on this. I don’t have much more to hold her on than my suspicions. General chit chat amongst relatives about someone’s new job is unlikely to stand up in court and the minute that lawyer arrives, he’s going to realize it.”
“You’re sure she’s guilty?”
“Absolutely. The timing is right and you can be sure she didn’t ask Amy about the job to be polite. I doubt if she knows how to be polite unless it’s to get her something. Go around to Frank Spencer on Station Street and get a proper description of the person he saw taking pictures. Get a warrant for Barton’s camera, her computer, and for her room at Stanford’s place. And get it fast. Then go around to the other neighborhoods and start asking if anyone saw someone taking pictures. I’m guessing that once Amy told Barton who was going to be away for a few days, she checked out the house pretending to be snapping pictures of the street.”
“Got it,” Lopez said. The game was on, and his heart was racing. He knew why Winters needed to move fast. If the lawyer could get Barton out of jail, she’d be erasing everything on the cameras and ditching the stolen property.
“I’ll get out of your hair,” Farzaneh said, “as this obviously has nothing to do with the Steiner case.”
“Don’t be too hasty. Take a seat,” Winters said. “Ray, I started the ITO, work on it while you’re listening to this.”
Farzaneh and Lopez exchanged glances. The Mountie sat in the spare chair and wheeled it across the room. Lopez activated his computer, found the ITO and started to type.
“When I went around to get Barton, she had the look of the mouse being sized up by the cat. Too bad we can’t convict people because of the look in their eyes. It would save us a lot of time and bother.”
“You got that right,” Farzaneh said.
“She was nervous and frightened, and I figured right then we could get her for the B&Es.”
Lopez turned around. “We know that, Boss.”
Winters stretched out his legs. He ran his thumb across the face of his watch, and Lopez knew he was thinking. Farzaneh lifted one eyebrow in question, and Lopez could only shrug in return.
“But, as soon as we got down to the brass tacks, she relaxed. Notably.”
“They all try to act casual,” Farzaneh said, “some get weepy in disbelief that we could possibly be thinking of blaming them, some get super defensive, and some try to sound all cocky and not bothered. That was her.”
“Agreed,” Winters said. “That was her. At first. But when she realized where I was coming from, that we were talking about the B&Es, she didn’t just pretend to be not bothered. She was not bothered.”
“What? You said a moment ago you knew she was the one, and now you’re not sure?”
“I’m sure all right. She’s up on charges for assault and causing a public disturbance, and now she’s arrested for a B&E. Judges don’t like to see someone using the courtroom door as if it revolved. So why would she not be too concerned at the possibility of charges?” Winters looked at Lopez, waiting for an answer.
“Maybe Langois threatened her for fighting with the boss’ daughter, and she thinks jail’s a good place to spend some time while he cools off,” Farzaneh said.
“Possible,” Winters said. “But she wasn’t happy to see me at first, as she would have been in that scenario.”
“Why would someone be happy to be charged with a B&E?” Lopez said
, very slowly.
“Because they’re guilty of something a lot more serious,” Winters answered.
“Steiner?” Farzaneh said. “You think she did Steiner?”
“Yes, yes I do. She thought she was being questioned again about the murder of Rudy Steiner, and when she understood I wanted to know about a reasonably minor series of B&Es she relaxed considerably.”
Lopez had abandoned the ITO. “Sorry, Boss, but it won’t wash. You’ve been out of the loop, remember. I checked into Barton’s activities that night. She’s in the clear. Has an alibi.”
“Alibis can be broken.”
“She was having dinner at eight-thirty, and stayed at the restaurant for a good long time. Trafalgar Thai. The waitress remembers her.”
Winters turned to Farzaneh. “You’re still sure of the time of death?”
“Pretty much. Steiner was seen by the room service waiter at 8:38 in the company of…uh…of…”
“A woman, yes, I do know that.”
“Estimated time of death is 8:38 to eleven, but the witness who heard a shot puts it just before nine.”
“Time for Barton to abandon her dinner and get to the hotel?”
“It would be very tight. Too tight, I’d say. The waitress said Barton had several beers and lingered over her food. She’s sure of the time. It was getting dark when the woman arrived, and sunset these days is just after eight.”
“Okay. Let’s work on making sure that B&E sticks. Meanwhile, I’m convinced Barton has something to hide about the murder. We’ll keep trying to break that alibi.”
“Sergeant Winters,” Farzaneh said. “Sorry to have to remind you, you’re not to be involved in that case.”
Winters smiled without humor. “Got carried away there.”
“I’ll tell Madison I have a gut feeling about Barton.”
“Thanks.”
Ray Lopez worked on the warrants after Winters and Farzaneh left. The Mountie to update his boss, Winters to call on Frank Spencer to get a description of the person he’d seen taking pictures. When Lopez finished, it was getting late, close to eleven o’clock. Too late to make random calls on neighbors, but tomorrow they’d re-visit everyone in the vicinity of the B&E’s. With luck, that might not be necessary. Barton might still have some of the stuff in her possession, and there was a good chance she’d have kept the shots of the neighborhoods on her camera. She’d have trouble explaining to a judge why she happened to have pictures of houses that had later been broken into.
Lopez pushed the keys to send the ITO on its way. Hopefully they’d have the warrants first thing tomorrow. Tonight Barton was tucked up in the cells; the lawyer would be arriving in the morning. He took off his gun belt and locked it in the office safe, and then called home, knowing someone would still be up.
Madeline answered.
“I’m finishing here, and I’ll be leaving in a few minutes. Need me to pick up anything?”
“No thanks. I made beef stew for dinner. You know it keeps well,” she said. He knew.
“Becky’s quite upset about tomorrow,” Madeleine said.
“Why?” He put on his jacket and turned off the office lights. The corridor was dark and quiet; a glow came from the lights in the entrance and over the dispatch area.
“The trip’s been cancelled.”
“That’s too bad.” Lopez’s youngest daughter had been looking forward to the club’s first kayaking trip of the season. “Why’d they cancel it?” He glanced at the bank of TVs monitoring the cells. Diane Barton lay on her back on the highly uncomfortable metal bed. “Is she still up? I’ll say something comforting.”
“You can speak to her in the morning.”
“Why’d they cancel it?” He mouthed “good night” to Ingrid and headed for the door.
“Weather. Heavy rains expected to move in tomorrow afternoon. This lovely spring sunshine isn’t going to last for long. It’s going to be as bad as last week.”
Lopez stopped in his tracks.
“Ray? Are you there?”
“Put the stew back in the fridge. Tell Becky I’ll take her out on the river once it clears up.” He punched the red button on his phone to disconnect and immediately called up another number.
***
“Did you sleep well, Ms. Barton?” John Winters asked.
“Perfectly well, thank you,” she replied. “Not that you give a fuck.” She leaned back in her chair. Her clothes were rumpled, looking and smelling as if she’d slept in them, which she had. Her hair was mashed flat on the left side and the fine skin beneath her eyes was as dark as a spring storm.
It was 7:15 on Tuesday morning, and Barton had been roused with coffee and breakfast and the news that Sergeant Winters wanted to speak with her.
“Only two of you this time,” she said, pretending to yawn. “Other fellow still in beddy-bys?”
“A lawyer has been contacted at your request,” Winters said. “She is due to arrive at ten o’clock. If you wish, we can wait until she gets here.”
Barton waved her hand. “Let’s get this farce over with. I don’t know anything about any job of my cousin Amy’s, other than what she told me, or any clients she might have. Can I go back to bed now?”
“Soon,” Winters said.
He could see Madison out of the corner of his eye. The man’s dark face was set in its usual angry expression. Winters didn’t know how long the Mountie would be able to keep his fat mouth shut.
They’d met last night in the Chief Constable’s study. The Chief had hastily pulled on track pants, splattered with paint the color of the study walls, and a Toronto Blue Jays sweat shirt. His wife, yawning with more believability than Diane Barton was now doing, brought in a tray of coffee and packaged cookies.
Against orders, Lopez had called John Winters to report what he’d learned.
“I dropped the ball on this one, Boss,” he said. “Barton told me she got to the restaurant around eight-thirty. When I spoke to Lynne, the hostess at the Thai, I came right out and asked her if Barton had been in around eight. She said yes. She said she was sure of the time because Barton was sitting by the window and it was almost dark out.”
“And…”
“Think back to last Monday. Big storm charged in late in the afternoon. High winds, lots of rain, and very, very thick black clouds.”
Winters remembered Eliza getting home. She’d taken off her rain coat at the front door and it had dripped all over the floor and she said she was looking forward to spring in San Francisco. She’d been very tense, angry at he knew not what, said she had a headache and went upstairs without another word or even wiping rainwater off the floor.
“I’ll check the airport,” Lopez said, “but I’m betting it was dark as night by five, six o’clock.”
“Which means,” Winters said, “Barton could have finished her meal before eight, leaving her plenty of time to stew in her resentment and get to Rudy’s room around nine, just after Eliza left. Good thinking. I’m calling the Chief and asking for a meet right now. You get Madison. I hope he’s sound asleep and we can shake him out of his dreams.”
Sure enough Madison had been in bed when Lopez called. Winters contacted the Chief Constable, who agreed to an unusual impromptu meeting.
Madison hadn’t been at all happy, but Keller convinced him to play along.
Winters smiled at Diane Barton. She did not smile back. He went over yesterday’s conversation, about dinner with Mike and Amy, Amy’s job.
“When Amy babbles,” Barton said, “I don’t pay much attention. Who the hell cares what she’s doing with her miserable life. Like I said, she’s a retard. If she told me something she shouldn’t have about some people I don’t know who are away on vacation, that’s her problem. Unless the law changed while I wasn’t looking, you can’t charge me with the crime of not listening.”
“I expect to receive a search warrant this morning authorizing me to search your belongings, in particular your cameras and computer,” he said.
/> Her eyes twitched, but she didn’t react. She must have known he’d be interested in her things.
He was playing a dangerous game. It had been a hard sell, first to the Chief Constable, and then to Madison. If it didn’t go well, if he failed, his career would be on the line. Madison would make sure of that.
“You were seen, you know,” he said.
“Seen where?”
“On Station Street for one. Taking pictures of the street. Of one house in particular.”
“So? It’s not a secret I came to your pleasant town to take pictures. I am a photographer’s assistant, as well as a damn good photographer in my own right. Taking pictures is what I do. Like brow-beating women is what you do.”
Madison shifted in his chair. Burton turned her attention to him. “And as for you, I thought you were here to investigate Rudy’s killing. Did you get demoted or something?”
There it was—out in the open. Winters circled. “The death of your employer must have been upsetting for you.”
“So upsetting, I decided to break into random houses? Try again.” She pointed to the camera. “That was a rhetorical question, I’ll have you note.”
“Noted.”
“No, Rudy’s death did not particularly upset me. He was a jerk, and, other than the fact that I’ll probably never get paid what I’m owed, I don’t much care.”
“Why was he a jerk?” Winters asked, his tone conversational, just wondering.
“He hadn’t produced a piece of work worth mentioning since something like 1902. His hands shook and his eye was bad and all the taste he had left was in his crotch. And damned little of that.” Her mouth pinched with anger and for a moment it looked as if she were going to spit on the floor. She leaned across the table, her shoulders braced, her eyes dark with rage.
It is said that every person is capable, given the right circumstances, fear, hatred, self-defense, of killing another human being. John Winters didn’t know if that was true, but as Diane Barton looked between him and Madison, he had no doubt this was a woman able to kill. And to justify it after.
