To Keep a Secret

by Brenda Chapman

  Campbell pulled it open and stared at us. “Yeah?” he asked. He was a step above where we were standing and towered over us.

  Jimmy flashed his police badge. “We have a few questions for you, Mr. Campbell. Is now a good time?”

  “I was just heading to the gym.” He smiled as if he was letting us in on a joke. I would have safely bet that he hadn’t seen the inside of a gym this decade. The guy was going to give an interesting interview.

  “Is your wife at home?” I asked.

  “At church.”

  “But it’s not Sunday,” Jimmy said.

  “Don’t you know that sin never takes a holiday? My wife is praying for all our souls. Weeding out the evil.” He pulled the door open. “You may as well come in. I have a pretty good idea why you’re here.”

  He led us into a spotless living room. A fake rose room freshener smell hit me like a wall. All of the vacuum strokes on the white carpet were identical and precise. Plastic covered the couch and chairs. “Pull it back if you want,” Campbell said. “She’ll know, but I’ll be the one hearing about it.” He sat on one of the wing-backed chairs, leaving the plastic in place.

  Jimmy and I exchanged glances. We both sat carefully on the plastic covering the couch. It crackled under our weight. “Just the two of you living here?” Jimmy asked.

  “Would you want to live here?” Campbell flashed his smile again. “The kids moved out of here as soon as they could pay rent. My wife, Hilda, has an unusual view of the world. She likes to inflict it on the rest of us.”

  “I’m surprised you’re still here,” I said.

  “Makes two of us. Are you here about that dating website? I’m beginning to think I made a mistake paying that charity.”

  “Why would that be?”

  “Well, the girl and her sidekick with the video camera must have told you about me. Sucker that I am, I believed they just wanted to make me feel a bit of shame. Believe me, I know all about that from the wife. I admit I wanted to keep it from Hilda. If she found out I was getting it on with call girls, she might divorce me and take half my pension. On the other hand, it might just give her a reason to pray harder. Those girls are legal age, by the way. I didn’t do anything you can arrest me for.”

  Jimmy took over. “We’re actually here because the girl blackmailing you was murdered two days ago.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Campbell shook his head. “That’s an awful shame.” The wheels kept clicking. This time when he looked at us, understanding had entered his eyes. “It must have been that girl they found in the dumpster. Wasn’t me. I was on days, on the 95 route. Plus I did a double shift.”

  “We’ll need someone to verify that,” Jimmy said.

  “I’ll give you a couple of names and numbers. They won’t have to know about my dating habits, will they?”

  “Probably not.”

  “Good. It’s the last place I still get treated with some respect.” He smiled at us again. “Although if any of them was married to Hilda, you can bet they’d have that date line on speed dial.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  I phoned Nick to get him to check out Campbell’s alibi. Then I tucked my phone back into my jacket pocket and stared across at Jimmy. He’d started the car and was looking in the mirror, about to back out of the driveway.

  “Something on your mind?” he asked, glancing over at me.

  “I hate to say it but the other leads are going nowhere. Sergeant Rudy Vine is looking like our prime suspect. We still have the element of surprise. He has no idea we know about the date line. But I think we have to do some homework before we visit him. For one thing, I’d like to talk to Mandy’s mother.”

  Jimmy nodded but frowned. “I can kiss my cop career goodbye. You can bet that Vine will make sure I never see another promotion.”

  “Or he murdered Mandy Blair and we’ll catch him.”

  “Sergeant Vine didn’t get where he is by being stupid.”

  Jimmy drove out of the Kanata subdivision and onto Eagleson Road.

  “It’s a funny thing that Lee and Campbell both blame their wives,” I said. “Did you notice that? It’s like they’re innocent victims and the dating website is their only option. What is wrong with these men? Why don’t they stand up to these women?”

  “You’re not walking in their shoes, Sweet. It’s easy to judge.”

  “I guess. I’d still like to give them a good shake.” I paused before saying, “When the time comes, I can interview Vine alone. He can’t do anything to hurt my non-career. He might even let something slip to me that he wouldn’t if you were there.”

  “Thanks for the offer. But we’re in this together.”

  “If you insist. What are you up to now?”

  “I have to go brief Shaw. He might have some information back from forensics.”

  “Can you drop me off at home? I’ll get my car and go visit Henry and Jada. You and I can meet up later this afternoon.”

  • • • • • • • • • •

  Nick Roma’s apartment rental near the University of Ottawa was a three-storey town house that backed onto the canal. I whistled as I pulled into the driveway. Where had Nick gotten the money to buy this place? As far as I could see, his dad Gino was just scraping by in his pizza restaurant. Nick was out of work before Jada hired him. Had she put a criminal on our payroll?

  I hurried to the front door and rang the bell. I shouldn’t have been surprised when Nick opened the door. His black hair was combed back to show off his perfect forehead. He had just enough stubble on his cheeks to look rugged. Was this the face of a gangster?

  He stepped aside to let me walk past him into the gigantic kitchen. It was all I could do not to gasp. The canal view through the patio window was amazing. The entire kitchen was stunning, with marble countertops, cherry cabinets, and light fixtures that surely cost more than my car.

  “Hey, partner,” Jada said. She jumped up to give me a hug. I waved at Henry over her shoulder.

  I sat down at the table next to Henry. “I thought I should check in. How’s it going here?”

  Jada swept her arm to take in the room. “We love it. Nick needs to keep us in hiding forever.”

  I looked up at Nick as he sat down across from me. “Have you owned this place long?”

  “About a year.” He slid some papers over to me. “Frank Campbell was working a double shift when Mandy was killed. Looks like he’s in the clear. Shaw sent over Sergeant Vine’s schedule for that day. He arrived late that morning and left early for a doctor’s appointment. Shaw checked with the doctor’s office. They wouldn’t confirm that Vine was there.”

  “So Vine doesn’t have a rock-solid alibi.”

  “No.”

  I turned to Henry. “I’m heading over to talk with Mandy’s mom. Is there anything I need to know about her?”

  “Besides the fact she’s the queen of denial, according to Mandy? The two of them didn’t get along.”

  The emotion behind his words surprised me. “Why not?”

  “Mandy said that she had no respect for her mom. I don’t know anything more. Mandy kept a lot of things to herself.”

  “Were the two of you dating, Henry?” I had to ask it.

  Henry shook his head. “Mandy had no interest in me that way. I’d say she wasn’t interested in men, period.”

  Which might explain her plot to blackmail some of them. I pulled my vibrating phone out of my pocket. A text message from Jimmy. He was tied up with Shaw and his own sergeant. Forensics said Mandy was strangled with a cord or a scarf. Not somebody’s bare hands. She had not been sexually molested, although she had had sex at some point in her life.

  It looked like I was on my own the rest of the day. I stood up, eager to get moving. I was a lone wolf at heart. An afternoon on my own felt like a gift from the gods above.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The Reverend Ben Thompson was just leaving when I arrived on the Blairs’ front steps. He opened the door and let me into the front
hallway. He was dressed in his black minister’s outfit with the white collar. His eyes and mouth turned down at the corners when he saw it was me.

  “I thought I’d drop in and speak with Nicole,” I said. “I hope your sister is feeling better. Were you on your way out?”

  “Yes. I have a prayer group in twenty minutes. I came by to check on Nicole and Frannie. Peter had business in Kingston. I’m sorry, I don’t have time to chat.”

  “Couldn’t Peter do business over the phone?” Who went to work so soon after their daughter was murdered?

  “I asked him that too. He said he had to handle something in person. Whatever it is, it couldn’t wait. Iris will be over here soon to help out. Nicole is sleeping at the moment. Mandy’s death has destroyed her, and she’s not up for questions yet.”

  “Has she said anything to you that might be helpful?”

  “No. It’s as if her mind won’t let her think about it. My sister is . . . fragile. I’ll see you to your car.” His voice was firm and I didn’t resist.

  We walked down the steps and stopped next to his silver Volvo. “You said that you had dinner with Mandy two weeks ago. Was that the last time you saw her?” I asked.

  He hesitated, as if thinking it over. “No. That would have been last week. She came by the church after Sunday service.”

  “After?”

  “She wasn’t exactly a church-goer. She said that she was on her way to see a friend and decided to stop in. Now if you’ll excuse me, I really am late for that prayer meeting.”

  “Of course.” I stepped aside and headed for my car. I watched Ben Thompson speed down the street and out of sight. Then I turned around and retraced my steps up the driveway to the Blairs’ front door. I had noticed that the deadbolt needed a key to lock it. Ben hadn’t used a key. I turned the door knob and stepped back inside.

  The entrance and the stairs leading to the second floor were carpeted. I checked the main floor but there was no sign of Nicole Blair. I thought about leaving but a gut feeling kept me moving up the stairs to the bedrooms.

  I found Mandy’s mother sleeping in the large master bedroom to the right of the landing. I knocked on the door, but she didn’t stir under the blue comforter. I moved close to the bed and called her name. Nothing. I leaned in and put my face as close as I dared. Her breathing was deep and a small snore escaped her lips. She was out cold. Probably sedated.

  I left her there and walked back to the hallway. I counted three more bedrooms. I tried the first door and found a pull-out couch and some exercise equipment. I moved on to the next room and pushed open the door. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust in the semi-darkness. The blinds were closed and a girl was huddled at the foot of the bed. Her arms were wrapped around her knees, and her long brown hair hung loose across one shoulder. She looked at me with wide, staring eyes.

  “Frannie?” I asked softly. “I’m Anna Sweet. I am working with the police to find out what happened to your sister. It is Frannie, isn’t it? I wonder if I could talk to you for a minute.”

  The girl kept looking at me without speaking. But the grip on her knees eased and one hand reached up to scratch her nose. I stepped closer.

  “I’m really sorry about Mandy. You must be very sad. Would you like to talk about what happened?”

  More staring and then a slight nod of her head. I looked around and saw a desk. I pulled the chair closer to the bed and sat down. “Your Uncle Ben let me in,” I said. Well, he had the first time. “Would you like to tell me about Mandy?”

  Frannie’s voice was high and sweet. A child still, even though she had just turned twelve. “She was angry all the time.”

  “Mandy was angry?”

  Another nod of Frannie’s head. I wished I could see her face more clearly. But I was afraid to ask her if I could turn on the light.

  “She said that it was going to start all over again.”

  “What was going to start all over again?”

  Frannie pulled her legs tighter into her chest. She began rocking back and forth. Tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes. “I didn’t believe her,” she said, so low I wasn’t sure that I heard correctly. She had her face buried in her knees.

  A door slammed somewhere in the house. Frannie lifted her head and looked toward the door to her room. I didn’t have much time.

  “Did she tell you anything else?” I asked. I reached out and touched her knee to draw her attention back.

  Frannie turned her head and stared at me again. Then she pushed herself up and crawled across the bed. She slid onto the floor and scooted over to the desk. I was still watching her when the door to the bedroom swung open.

  Iris Thompson glared around the room until her eyes landed on me. “How did you get in here?” Her voice was cold enough to freeze water. She charged across the room and grabbed me by the arm. Frannie let out a wail and Iris pulled back. She looked across the room at her niece. “Frannie, are you okay? Did this woman hurt you?”

  “Anna just wanted to make me some lunch, Aunt Iris. I was telling her what I wanted to eat.” Frannie jumped across the room and grabbed my hand. “She’s going to take me for a hamburger.”

  I blinked back my surprise. I felt like I’d dropped into a parallel universe. One that made no sense. Frannie pressed something hard and small into the palm of my hand. My fingers closed around it when Frannie let go.

  “Would you like to come with us, Aunt Iris?” Frannie asked. “We could order onion rings.”

  Iris smiled and shook her head. “We shouldn’t leave your mother alone. I’ll cook you some lunch, dear.”

  “And I’ll just be on my way,” I said.

  I bolted past them out of the room before Aunt Iris could block my path. I was out the front door before she made it to the head of the stairs. I leapt down the front steps toward the driveway. A minute later, I was in my car and speeding on my way to the office. I had to put distance between me and the craziness of the Blair and Thompson families. But most of all, I needed to see what was on the memory stick that Frannie had slipped into my hand. I hoped that whatever it revealed would lead me to a killer.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The office door was unlocked. I hesitated before turning the handle, not sure who would be inside. I’d made a lot of noise running up the stairs, so the element of surprise was gone. After taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open. Nick Roma was sitting at the desk. He looked up from his laptop and smiled. “Hey, Anna. You look like you’re on the trail of something promising.”

  “I am,” I said. I walked over to the desk. “Frannie Blair handed me a memory stick that I’d like to have a look at now. It might be important.”

  “Sure. I’ll just save this and then we can bring it up.”

  I looked over Nick’s shoulder. He’d been typing something in Italian. He quickly saved it and made the page disappear. I handed the memory stick to him and he inserted it into the laptop. A file popped up. Nick clicked on it and a video window opened, paused on a picture of Mandy Blair. Nick looked up at me. “This the girl who was murdered?”

  “Yeah, and she’s about to speak from beyond the grave.” I pulled a chair around from the other side of the desk and sat down beside Nick. Then I clicked on play.

  Mandy began by giving her name, age and date—she’d made the video four days before somebody killed her. Her voice was a deeper version of her sister Frannie’s. They had the same wide eyes, but Mandy’s were tougher, more defiant.

  “The plan to blackmail married men trying to date girls was my idea,” Mandy began. “I talked Henry Price into helping me. He tried talking me out of it.” She smiled without humour. “I wish I had listened to him. If you are watching this video, I’m probably dead.”

  Mandy paused for a moment, then continued. “I know I’m taking a chance confronting my uncle. Last time I did, he told me that he would do whatever it took to protect his reputation. I thought abusing me when I was twelve was the only time he’d abused anyone. He told me it wa
s. The way he looks at Frannie, though, I know I have to stop him.” Mandy’s hand stretched toward the camera. She moved it closer to her face. “His big mistake was signing up on the dating website. He gave a different name and disguised himself a bit. But I knew. He’s still at it. This video is my insurance. I’m going to meet him alone. No Henry as back up. This one is personal.”

  Mandy pulled back. Her voice changed to a mocking imitation. “I love you, Mandy. You mean everything to me. It’s all your fault that I’m doing these things to you. I have to leave to break free of you. This isn’t who I am.” She moved closer to the camera until her mouth filled the screen. “You are a liar, Uncle Ben,” she said. “You are a pervert and I’m going to make you pay.”

  The video cut away to Ben Thompson’s photo on the married men dating site. He claimed to be Bob Smith, looking for a good time with no strings attached. He’d let dark stubble cover his cheeks and had slicked back his hair. But there was no mistaking the intensity in those piercing brown eyes. After twenty seconds of showing that picture, the video ended.

  I sat still for a moment, trying to take in what Mandy had said. Nick stared straight ahead at the empty screen. Mandy’s words were shocking. But they explained her behaviour change at age twelve, her anger, and her idea to blackmail married men dating teenagers. Add that to her uncle moving away and returning last month—the ugly pieces were slotting into place. Reverend Ben Thompson was a child molester. He’d abused his own niece and very likely killed her.

  “What are you going to do now?” Nick asked. His voice was quiet.

  I had to work to control my breathing. My words came out harsh. “Take this to Jimmy, and then go with him to arrest Uncle Ben. Call me when he’s been picked up. Jada and Henry will be relieved to know they aren’t his targets anymore.”