The Rochester Confessions

by James Brown

  Nick was a bit concerned, ever since the ferry had started. Father Paul had not been keeping too well. It seemed to Nick that he was also avoiding the ferry. After the first curtailed tour of the ferry, Nick had asked Paul if he would like to see it again but Father Paul had not shown too much interest. This was really out of character for Father Paul.

  Nick was just finishing one of the files when there was a bang on the door. He went up to the door and opened it to see a tall burly man with a grisly beard and a slightly tilted neck. He was looking at an angle. “Quinn, from the Herald. Hope I didn‘t catch you at a wrong time, Mayor.” He introduced himself rather irritatingly.

  “Not at all, Mr. Quinn. I have an important meeting at 6. I was trying to wrap up a bit early today. I must say you reached here quite fast though,” said Nick.

  “I got a good connection on the 11 a.m. flight and I had a friend lend me his car at NYC. So, I got here on time. I am lucky to catch you though, it seems,” Quinn replied quickly.

  Nick felt repulsed and helpless in front of the big man. He seemed a dangerous customer. He would need all his skills to tackle the questions thrown at him. But then Quinn gave him a breather which relaxed him.

  “Why don’t we meet up tomorrow morning then? I will be staying the night and I have not done any return bookings. Also, I think I will need more time with you. Shall we meet at around 9.30 in the morning, if you are okay with it?”

  “Mornings are always madness, better make it noon. By that time, I will finish with the morning routine and we can have an hour to ourselves,” suggested Nick, as he wanted some time to think and prepare for the meeting.

  Quinn agreed and left. Nick wrapped up for the day and locked the office. As he moved towards his parked car, he was still thinking about Quinn.

  Father Paul was waiting for Nick, as was his usual practice whenever he gave time to anyone. He greeted him from his chair without getting up. Nick was quick to notice the lack of energy and somberness.

  “Hi. You seem to be ill, Father. Is everything okay?” Nick enquired with concern in his voice.

  “Oh, just the change in season. Caught the cold air a few days ago. Guess the years are catching up, after all we all are getting old, aren’t we?”

  After the exchange of pleasantries and a drink, Nick informed Father Paul about the accident on the ferry.

  “I was also wondering about that ever since I came to know about Ms Stacy. She was a fine woman, always happy with her flowers, always smiling. I can’t for once consider that she could even think of committing suicide. It could only have been an accident, nothing else. But again, going overboard a calm sea from a big ferry is most unlikely and I also know a bit about these boats, they are very stable. But I also rule out the suicide theory, she was made of far sterner stuff than she looked. No sir, she couldn’t commit suicide, that’s for sure,” said Father Paul.

  Nick wondered how he could be so sure, but he didn’t ask him.

  They kept discussing the issue for a long time. They had almost emptied the bottle in two hours. Nick could sense that Father Paul was trying to tell him something but he couldn‘t speak out. It seemed the Father was unable to him make up his mind.

  Nick knew the game of wait-and-gain too well. He knew eventually Father Paul would come out with whatever was bothering him and pour his heart out to him but only when the time was right. As he poured the last drink from the bottle and emptied the last few drops in their glasses, he could see the time had indeed come. Father Paul started speaking.

  “Strange things happen in this world. Sometimes they have no meaning or connection. These things may happen miles apart or together, years apart or at the same time, with different people who are not at all connected with each other or with the same person at the same time or at different times and places. The connection between these things or events becomes evident to everyone after some time. But by the time that happens, the events are all isolated and mysterious and have no explanation.”

  “Somehow, I have a feeling that the disappearance of Ms Stacy is part of a bigger plan of things. This is not a stray accident. I am trying to figure out the puzzle. The earlier we decipher it, the better off we will be.”

  Nick was taken aback by the long sermon. He had never seen Father Paul in such a serious mood. He could not fathom the Father’s deep thoughts. He knew the Father’s words held a deep meaning. Somehow, he too started believing in that ideology. There was a feeling of impending danger along with a deep sense of helplessness and loneliness. It was the same feeling that one gets immediately after attending a funeral of a close friend or relative. Also, it reminded him of Achooka’s words.

  As Nick and Father Paul were discussing, a shadow was silently lurking the deck of The Tempest. It glided silently into the engine room and disappeared behind the big piece of metal.

  The next day morning, the chief technical officer on board the ferry was puzzled. The engines were not delivering enough torque to drive the propellers. He had reported for duty at 6 a.m. sharp as usual and had gone through the routine before starting the engines. But as he had pushed the throttle, the meter didn’t show enough torque for him to switch power to the propellers from the idling state. He tried engaging the lever once again but the engines immediately died down.

  Eventually, he had to call the emergency numbers of the engine manufacturer. He was asked to do certain technical trials but they were all futile. Meanwhile, the passengers had started boarding the ferry.

  Three technical assistants were working in the engine room, trying to sort out the problem. One of the assistant, Rob Jennings, decided to check the air filters. Usually the air filters were changed once in six months during routine maintenance by the supplier company. They were large and heavy and mounted about three feet above the floor, with enough space for a person to lie below them, open the bolts, and take them out. The fittings were a bit tricky and had to be done in a sequence. The company engineers would always carry a safety kit and fix it before trying to remove the bolts, but Rob had done it many times and so thought nothing much of it.

  As he went under and started opening the bolts, he checked for the safety bolt. It had to be opened from the side, once the bottom bolts had been removed, to lower the casing gently on the floor. The check bolt was firm and tight. Rob started opening the bottom bolts one by one. As he was taking out the last bolt, he felt a slight drought of air. He was surprised as this was a closed room. Moreover, he felt the panel coming down on him as if in slow motion. He hardly had time to shield his face as more than 200 kilograms of metal and mesh smashed down on his face.

  The other technicians working in the engine room tried to remove the weight from Rob but it was too heavy for them. They called in the other men and after about 20 minutes, they were able to free Rob. He was in deep shock and bleeding profusely. The technicians called for an ambulance and he was rushed to the local hospital.

  The ferry service for that day had to be cancelled due to the technical snag.

  Chapter 8

  Quinn was going through the list of office bearers of the corporation responsible for the smooth working of the ferry service. The second name on the list stood out –Father Paul. There was no surname and no details. Just the first name and the church address. The details about family, education and permanent address were all missing. Quinn made a mental note to check this later. For now, he was preparing to visit the first name on the list, the Mayor, and was collecting all data on his subject of immediate interest.

  As he dug deep into the details of the man whose dossier had been prepared by his faithful assistant, he chuckled softly. Now I will see how tough a guy you are, Mr. Nick Carter, Quinn thought. He didn’t like people who banged the phone down on him and he wanted to make this clear to the Mayor soon.

  Drinking for long hours in the night had its effect on Nick. He felt groggy and his head throbbed. He had a nasty hangover and black circles had formed beneath his eyes. He got up slowly and began his morni
ng routine.

  Nick lived all alone in the big house. Like all big old houses, this house too had a story, not one but many stories. Most of the stories were those of celebrations and large gatherings with music and dance, but there was one story with a tragic ending. This was the story Nick wanted to forget but he could never stop remembering it. It was the story of Tim Carter, his younger brother.

  Tim used to work in Toronto during the bygone years. He lived alone in the big city. He was a lawyer, following the age-old tradition of the Carter family, after his father. Usually, he came home on the weekends. He stayed over-night and left Sunday noon to report back to work on Monday morning. Gradually, his frequency of visits dropped till a time came when his father had to send Nick to Toronto to check on Tim who had not visited for months. Nick sensed that something was wrong when he met Tim. The face said it all. Tim had taken to drugs and was spending more than his means. He had borrowed heavily and that too from the wrong people. The situation had reached such a stage that they had even barred his travel and movement. Tim couldn’t leave Toronto without first paying them.

  Nick decided to take Tim home. They left very early in an old Renault pick-up, which Nick drove those days. On the way, the goons caught up with them in their powerful Red Mustang. They followed them to the Carter house. As they all sat on the table, the senior Carter tried to reason with them. The modalities were worked out and it was decided that the Carters would pay them off in one year. As the agreement was being closed, the lenders suddenly said they wanted double the money. It was impossible for the Carters. Those were the days of the rule of the gun. Soon the guns were drawn out. A gun fight ensued. The three goons were all gunned down, but so was Tim, caught in the crossfire.

  The bodies were taken out and buried in the woods. Tim’s body was buried deeper and with a little more respect.

  This was the story that Nick wanted to forget.

  As he had got up late, Nick took more time than usual to get ready. He reached his office at around noon. As he entered his room, he was startled to see the back of a big man, looking out of the window and puffing on a cigarette. Then he remembered that he had given time to Quinn for a late morning meeting.

  “Morning governor,” Quinn greeted him, turning around.

  “Hi, I must say you city guys do follow your clock. We townsfolk go easy sometimes. Not that I don’t keep up time but today I got delayed as I got up late,” said Nick.

  The big man looked foreboding. He reminded him of the leader of the pack on that fateful night his brother died. He had the same eyes and expression and spoke terse sentences.

  Quinn started shooting right from the word go.

  “Seems like the ferry is jinxed or something. Earlier there was that thing about the missy and yesterday one lad got pretty badly bruised. Also, the boat had engine trouble. That’s a lot of good money going down the drain, if you ask me,” said Quinn, almost accusingly as if Nick was responsible for it all.

  Nick felt like a small boy being questioned on something he had bought that was not working right.

  “Well, it’s 10,000 tons of metal, wood and heavy electronic equipment, it’s bound to have some problems, sooner or later. The thing is it has happened too soon. It’s our bad luck, can’t blame anyone for it. Anyway, don’t know why I have to answer that question anyway,” Nick replied with irritation. He made no attempt to hide it.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. It was just a thought that came into my mind and I said it out aloud,” said Quinn. The old daddy is quite edgy; well, this is going to be good, Nick thought.

  “What about the miss who went missing from the boat, what do you know about her? Was she the type who would jump off a ferry in the middle of the night? Did she have any history of depressed behavior, suicide attempts, or maybe a lover?” asked Quinn.

  “Nothing that I know of. I mean she was pretty much a recluse, lead the life of a nun, happy with the flowers, content in her work, and all alone. Not that she was the quiet type. No sir, she was quite chirpy and gregarious. In fact, always happy and smiling. Still, if she was unhappy due to any reason, I wouldn’t know about that,” said Nick.

  “What about the lover angle, anyone you knew who was close to her? I mean, in a manly way? You know, a lifetime without a man is really very difficult for any woman, isn’t it?” Quinn said with a dirty smile on his face.

  Nick felt sick and very angry. How can this half-wit of a man say such things about a lady? A lady as chaste and refined as the flowers she adored. That too after her untimely demise under such circumstances. He thought enough was enough.

  “Mr. Quinn, this is really disgusting and totally uncalled for. I ask you to leave my office immediately or I may have to call the sheriff and press for charges and have you arrested. This is a respectable community and a very clean and disciplined town where residents co-exist happily by sharing each other’s happiness as well as sorrows. I cannot tolerate such thoughts or words about one of my fellow townspeople. I respected and loved her too much. Please consider this the end of the meeting. You may leave now,” Nick shouted.

  The expression on Quinn’s face changed. A grin began to form at the edge of his huge mouth. He clamped his jaws together stiffly and turned around and left the room, with a little bow. The irritating smile was still on his face.

  The Mayor looked at his retreating form. Suddenly, Quinn turned around and said, “You haven’t seen the last of me yet, Mayor. No sir, not yet.”

  Chapter 9

  Quinn was hysterical. He had a sadistic personality. He loved tormenting people, especially if they were as pompous and upright as Nick. His tactics of provoking Nick and making him angry had worked. This strengthened his theory based on the facts collected by his faithful colleague. He just had to have a little chat with one more person. Then he would be on the verge of solving a 20-year-old puzzle which had rocked the mobs of Toronto. The puzzle was regarding the sudden disappearance of Katos, a gangster, along with his two assistants, way back in the 1980s.

  The facts came to light when Steve got orders from his boss to dig into Nick’s past. He hit dirt, as he found about Jim and his problems and Nick’s unprecedented visit to Toronto. Steve found out that Jim had borrowed from Katos and there was a problem brewing between them. Quinn had been assigned the Katos disappearance case by the Herald at that time. It was one of his very few failures, which had always nagged him.

  Now, the facts were pretty apparent. The timings coincided. Still, he had to be doubly sure before he made his next move. He called Steve and started speaking animatedly to him. After that, he took out a beer from the fridge and settled down in front of his laptop to dig into the old documents of the Katos case. As he browsed, he kept making notes. Finally, he got a call from Steve. “Got the name and the number, and the good news is the fellow still stays in Rochester and works as an assistant in the maintenance department of roads and buildings in the council. The name is Sanchez.”

  Sanchez was sipping coffee in the afternoon in his small flat. He then saw the big man knock on the fragile glass door. He opened the door to let the big man in. “May I help you?” he asked.

  “Hi! Quinn from the Herald. I am working on an article on how the old toll gates on the highways were operated manually with people reporting for duty in 12-hour shifts, facing hardships while collecting toll from drivers, often facing their abuse. I wanted to do a small interview with your quotes, name and designation,” said Quinn, in an uncharacteristic soft tone.

  The old wrinkled face lit up with a big bright smile. His eyes wore a far-off look, as if trying to recapture the bygone days. “Sure, I don’t mind sharing a few experiences with the journo’s, though I would appreciate some compensation, however small. The times are not so good for old folks like us,” the old toad croaked.

  Quinn took out a 100 dollar bill from his pocket. Sanchez immediately grabbed it. He went to the fridge and took out two beers with some munchies. They both settled down for a long revealing c
hat.

  Quinn kept asking him a few questions now and then. “Do you remember that day when the big Red Mustang with four roughnecks tried to cross over into the town without paying the toll?”

  “Can‘t forget them. No sir, I can’t. Mighty rough and dangerous. First time in my life, I was shown a gun for asking for toll. I barely escaped but I noted the number and reported it to the monitoring room. Seems by the time they could scramble in, the thugs had sped off. Mighty fast car they had. They seemed in a bit of a hurry, as if chasing someone,” he replied.

  “Where are the records kept? It must have been reported and filed somewhere. Can I get more information? I can do some more research and come up with a few numbers for my readers, you see. Everyone understands numbers nowadays,” said Quinn.

  “Yes sir, everything is kept in files, yonder on the mall road at the old town hall building. It has two rooms with all the records of the last 30 years. For the first 20 years, it was leased to the council, and later transferred to a local vendor. But the municipality records were never audited, so everything is still there,” he informed. Quinn was elated.

  Quinn went to the old town hall building, which was now nearly abandoned as all the offices of the council had moved to the new building. Because it was a government property, a caretaker was appointed to keep it partially functional. The caretaker was more than happy to help the big man with the big logbooks, over which Quinn was now leaning.

  The log entry of that date was easy to find. Quinn found the entry pretty quickly. It had been circled in red ink; the entry had the car registration number, but it didn’t show any amount received nor a receipt number. A small comment was scribbled along with it – Didn’t pay, on gunpoint -reported.

  Quinn took a photo of the page with his camera, he also took photos of the next few pages.

  Quinn looked for one more entry, which he found soon enough. He took one more photo. Now he was done. Taking a deep breath, he straightened up slowly, only to find the caretaker staring at him with expectation.