Smoke Screen

by Suzanne Ouimet

  “The newspaper is sending somebody over to interview you,” she sighed. “You’re a hero, Ben. Again.”

  “Forget it,” Ben replied. “I don’t want to talk to them.”

  “I’m afraid you may have to. They want pictures of you with the girl and her baby. I told them maybe tomorrow.”

  “Dammit. I suppose they’re going to bring up that thing about the truck again. I just know it. Anyway, I don’t want to meet with the girl and I definitely don’t want them take my picture.”

  “You brought this on yourself,” Margaret told him. “And Howie wants to talk to you, too,” she said, a hint of edginess in her voice.

  Howie was Wayne Howard, the Fire Marshal, and Ben’s friend from childhood.

  “Figures.” Ben replied. Now everything’s going to come out. They’re going to find out about Frannie. I can’t let that happen.

  He decided to leave the hospital as soon as possible, before the press could get to him.

  Chapter 1

  The Hero

  The family, that dear octopus

  from whose tentacles we never quite escape,

  nor, in our innermost hearts, ever quite wish to.

  Dodie Smith

  Tom North and Marybeth Laughlin worked together in Precinct B of the Leffler Police Department. Precinct B covered the southwest end of Leffler, along with its suburbs and including the areas in and around Long Cove – the same turf they’d worked before in the Rural Unit.

  Their boss, Ken Ronson, realizing their talents were under utilized, suggested they investigate a few old unsolved cases with a view to closing them. One case in particular interested them, an arson that had taken place in 1968, involving ‘Chief’ (Ben) George—Leffler’s Fire Chief at the time. ‘The Chief’ had been connected to one of their previous investigations.

  Shortly before the county disbanded the Rural Unit, Marybeth and Tom had been instrumental in solving a missing children case. Through their tireless efforts, the missing children, Jack and Sami Kelly, had, happily been found and reunited with their mother, Lisa Kelly, who was Chief George’s daughter. The investigation had coincidentally unearthed a gang of thieves and smugglers, a coup that garnered recognition from their superiors and looked good on their respective records.

  During this time Marybeth’s husband, Greg, had been killed while working in the Alberta oilfields. Marybeth had taken six weeks off work and during this grief-stricken period, Tom had provided constant support and a warm shoulder to cry on. She’d been very fond of him before Greg’s death and had grown increasingly aware of how attractive, funny and kind her partner was, this colleague who’d made her laugh and gave her a shoulder to cry on. She also began to realize Tom had been in love with her for some time and had given up his long-time girlfriend to spend more time with her. The two worked well together and their relationship seemed to enhance, rather than inhibit, their effectiveness as police officers. Yet Marybeth wasn’t sure she wanted them to become a couple – not yet anyway.

  Studying the arson file, Marybeth discovered something interesting, “Look at this, Tom. There are several newspaper clippings in here about the ‘Chief”. One says he rescued some guy from a burning semi back before the apartment fire. Seems like he was quite the hero.”

  “He sure was, no doubt about it.”

  Marybeth passed the article to Tom. His eyes widened as he perused the piece.

  The Leffler Times

  RELUCTANT HERO

  Wednesday, Oct. 18, 1972

  A deadly accident was barely averted on Route 77, Wednesday night. If it weren’t for the quick-thinking actions of a local man, Ben George, a life could have been lost.

  Traveling east-bound George noticed a large semi truck following close behind him. Suddenly it lost control, careened across the median into the empty west- bound lanes, catapulted over the edge and plummeted down the embankment.

  Without thinking, Mr. George pulled over to the side of the road, jumped from his vehicle, crossed the highway and ran back to the embankment where the semi had left the road.

  “I saw the truck half way down the embankment, just laying there on its side,” he said. “The motor was still running. So I ran down the hill, which was pretty steep. When I got down there, I could see smoke coming from the engine compartment but I thought I’d better see if the driver needed help first, so I climbed up the passenger side. I could see the guy was unconscious, so I kicked in the window and climbed in and pulled him out.”

  Mr. George saw a crowd congregating at the roadside so he laid the unconscious man on the slope and shouted for the frozen, shocked crowd to call for an ambulance, ran back down to the truck and turned off the engine.

  When he returned , several other men were with the still unconscious driver. Satisfied things were under control he returned to his vehicle and drove home.

  Asked why he didn’t remain on the scene, Mr. George said he thought that the situation was under control. “Someone was giving first aid to the driver and the ambulance was on its way,” he said. His job was done.

  When told he was a hero, Mr. George said, “Nonsense, I just did what anybody would have done.” Interesting enough, Mr. George was one of the crew on PT 109, with Jack Kennedy in the Pacific Theatre in WWII, but did not wish to discuss this with the reporter.

  The driver, Frank Benke, suffered from a broken collar bone and severe bruising on his chest from sudden contact with the steering wheel, but credits Mr. George with saving his life.

  Speaking from his hospital bed, Mr. Benke exclaimed, “If he hadn’t pulled me out of the cab and turned off the engine, I might have burned to death. He’s a hero to me! I want to meet him and express my heartfelt thanks.”

  “I think this was after Ben George was made Fire Chief, MB.” Tom stated, after reading the article. “Why is this article in here, anyway? It’s got nothing to do with the fires.”

  “Who knows? There’s also an article here about a mall fire that took place in 1957 as well as one about the Bellevue Road apartment fire.” Marybeth began reading about the Mall fire. When she had finished, she exclaimed, “Hey, here’s another one! A huge motel fire, just after Kennedy was assassinated. I wonder if that’s significant?”

  The Leffler Times

  Mall Fire - One Store Destroyed - Arson Suspected

  Leffler, Friday, June 27, 1958

  Three of the stores in the new Walkerton Mall were destroyed by a fire early Sunday morning. Wayne Howard, the district Fire Marshall, told this reporter that arson is suspected.

  “The fire was started in a dumpster behind the convenience shop. It was filled with cardboard. Cardboard burns quite hot and the flames caught the wood trim around the store window. The window broke with the intense heat and the fire gained access to materials stored just inside.”

  Store owner, Wilf Wilkins, was called a short time after the fire department arrived on scene. “We’re pretty well wiped out.” “We had insurance, that goodness,” he said. “And because it was Sunday, no one was in the store.”

  The mall was unoccupied at the time. None of the other stores, including Sobey’s, The Shoe Shoppe, Mark’s Hairdressers and Baker’s Dozen, were open at the time of the fire. All have incurred smoke damage, only Blind Convenience was destroyed.

  “We’ll be having a great fire sale next week,” Sobey’s manager, Kent Smith said, when questioned about smoke and water damage. “We don’t know yet how much of our stock was affected. We’ll be doing an inventory tomorrow.”

  Baker’s Dozen owner, Patty Sloan, told us nothing in her store was damaged, either by smoke or water. “All our supplies were in our metal vault, luckily. So business as usual.”

  Leffler has been plagued of late by several arsons. “We have an ongoing investigation going on. We can’t give you any information right now, but we do have a few leads. Hopefully we’ll catch the culprit or culprits soon,” a spokesman at the Fire Department told us.

  Mr. Wilkins told us his store will open a
gain just as soon as he can get the repairs done and new stock arrives. In the meantime, most of the stores were closed on Monday after the fire, but re-opened on Tuesday.

  “Not much to go on here…. Looks like they never caught who started it. Maybe it was just kids. I read somewhere kids are usually responsible for fires started in dumpsters. They get some kind of kick out of it until it gets out of control and then they beat it outta there.”

  “Could be.” Tom replied. “I’m reading about the ’63 fire now.”

  The Leffler Times

  Arson Suspected in New River Run Motel

  Thursday, Nov. 21, 1963

  Early Sunday morning, a passerby noticed smoke coming from the roof of the new, as yet unoccupied, River Run Motel on Highway 9. He drove to the closest phone, which was at the Circle Mall to call the fire department.

  By the time the Leffler Fire Department trucks arrived, most of the new structure was in flames.

  “It took me maybe five minutes to find a phone,” the man, who wishes to remain anonymous, told this reporter. “I went straight back to the fire and I guess the fire department arrived about five minutes later. “I don’t think they could have done much even if they’d arrived earlier. It looked to me like it was well advanced when I got there.”

  The new deluxe motel, one of the Sandman Motel chain, was due to open in three weeks. The franchise owners, Kit and Sam Ranger, were no available for comment.

  Fire Marshall, Wayne Howard, told us that he suspects arson. “There have been a couple of fires lately that we suspect have been set deliberately,” he said. “And no, we have no suspects at this time.”

  The Leffler Times will update this information when it becomes available.

  Marybeth began reading the article about the apartment fire, about the arson they were currently investigating.

  The Leffler Times

  Leffler Apartments Burn - Mother & Baby Saved

  Wednesday, May 22, 1968

  Early this morning, the Leffler Fire Department was called out to a fire at the Belleview Apartments on 7th Street. Approximately 15 families were forced out on the street by heavy smoke and flames. Shortly after firemen arrived it was discovered that one of the occupants and her baby were trapped inside the building.

  Risking bodily harm, Ben “Chief” George raced into the building and managed to bring the young woman and child out of the fire. Searching frantically, he found them in the bathroom of the second storey apartment, but feared he might be too late. Blinded by heavy smoke, he still managed to carry them from the building into the waiting arms of rescuers.

  The young mother, Francine deJean and her child, were revived in the ambulance and taken to hospital where staff are quoted as saying, “We expect a full recovery. The baby, a little girl, is only six weeks old. Her fragile lungs and tiny body might not have survived a moment longer had it not been for the quick response of Mr. George.”

  Chief George collapsed after the rescue and was taken to Mercy Hospital, where he is recovering from a mild heart attack.

  Readers of this paper may recall Chief George rescued the driver of a semi-rig that went out of control over an embankment two years ago. He declined comment on that subject.

  A WW II Veteran, he served with Jack Kennedy in the Pacific, another subject he didn’t wish to discuss with us at this time.

  An interesting note, the Chief is also a leader of the Steillacoomb band, and has lived in the area all of his life. His family claim he has always been very modest on the subject of his brave exploits and therefore request respect of his privacy.

  “Amazing stuff,” Marybeth commented, after reading the article. “According to the Fire Marshal’s report, the Bellevue fire was definitely arson. It started at the back of the building just outside the first floor apartment, right below the one where the girl was rescued. Nothing about the alleged arsonist, though.”

  “I wonder if the Chief had any idea who it might have been starting all these fires?” Tom paged through the files once again. “Nothing else here. Something’s wrong. Look, MB. Three articles about fires but only one Fire Marshal’s report. And this unrelated article about Ben George. Maybe ‘they’, whoever it was, couldn’t be bothered pursuing it any further.”

  His partner, equally curious, rifled through the file’s contents as if one more look might offer up answers from the dead past.

  “Whose case was this anyway? Strange. No name on the file. And, the last fire in here is the one in ’68, the apartment fire. I wonder if there were any more? And if so, why aren’t there any reports?”

  Tom shook his head. “We’ll have to ask Ken. He may know. We can’t ask the Chief. He and his wife, Margaret, died in a bizarre car accident a couple of years after the apartment fire.”

  “You’re kidding! That’s awful, Tom.”

  “Yeah. They were traveling home from his sister’s place up past Rainbow Harbour. We met her. You remember the twins’ old aunt up at the apple farm, where the kids were found?” Marybeth nodded, waited for Tom to continue.

  “Anyway, a truck in front of them lost its back left wheel. It careened across the road, hit an oncoming vehicle, flew up in the air and hurtled itself into Ben’s car, right into the driver’s side window. Ben was killed instantly when the car went out of control and hit a tree. Margaret was severely injured and didn’t survive long enough to reach the hospital. Both DOA. Their two young sons in the back seat suffered multiple cuts to their faces. I remember reading about it a few years back. The town went into mourning big time. He was well loved.”

  “That’s a shame. I mean the accident, not that he was well loved.

  “Why are we even re-investigating this? It was a long time ago and it’s only arson. Not that important this long after the fact. We shouldn’t be wasting our time.”

  “It wasn’t just an arson, Marybeth. It was murder. Didn’t you see the report in there about the baby dying?”

  “Oh, my God! No, I didn’t see that. It’s not in here.” Marybeth rummaged through the file yet again, trying to find any mention of the baby’s death. “Oh, here it is. Tacked onto the back of Wayne Howard’s report. Well, that changes things a bit, doesn’t it? Any idea where we should start?”

  “Maybe try to find this Frannie deJean person. The baby’s mother. Francine? Francis, maybe?”

  “Yeah. And talk to Wayne Howard. Wonder if he’s still around?”

  “Probably not, MB. That fire was over 23 years ago. Most likely the guy’s dead.”

  “I wonder if there were any unsolved arsons after the apartment fire?”

  “Let’s call up the fire department, see if we can find out,” Tom said, picking up the phone.

  A few minutes later, he read from notes he’d taken during the call, “Two or three at least. Small fires, nothing considered serious. Dumpsters, a bush fire and a car set on fire in a garage. All stopped completely just after Ben died. No suspected arsons since then.”

  Marybeth and Tom looked at each other. They knew there were on the trail of something significant.

  Chapter 2

  Looking for Frannie

  “Have we traced the whereabouts of that deJean person yet?” Marybeth asked the clerk who managed the record searches. “It’s been three days, Pam.”

  “There’s a Francine deJean living up at Fairhaven. That’s the women’s facility, in case you didn’t know.” Pam was inclined to think of Marybeth as a child, rather than a police officer who outranked her.

  “Thanks. Didn’t know the name of the place.” Marybeth ignored the insinuation. “What do you have on her?”

  “65 year old, tall, blonde, Caucasian. In for cheque fraud.”

  “Darn. No, that’s not our Frannie. Too old. What about Francis – ‘i.s’. or ‘e.s’?”

  “Nothing.”

  Tom joined them. “Nothing? Then how about we do a search of the high schools? She was just a young girl. Nineteen, I think, when the fire happened. That would make her about forty-two or so n
ow.”

  “Okay, I’ll check out the schools and colleges in the area. Might be tough, as records are often deleted after several years. Frannie, Francine or Francis, spelled both ways. Previous to 1968. That’s about the time of the fire, right?”

  “Right. Thanks, Pam,” Tom and Marybeth answered in unison.

  “You guys twins, or what,” Pam laughed.

  “What next?” Tom asked Marybeth as they returned to their desks.

  “How about we go over to the apartment and talk to a few residents over there? Could be someone still living there will remember the fire. I know it’s been a long time but some people do stay in one place their whole lives. We might luck out.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  Half an hour later, they arrived at the Bellevue apartment block on 7th Street. Many houses adjacent to the building at the time of the fire had been torn down, been replaced by low-rent units. The area was a rat warren. Litter everywhere. Clothes hanging from balcony railings; cigarette butts littering the sidewalks and driveway; cracked windows in the entranceway; bare patches in the dry brown lawn.

  Finding a parking space proved difficult but they finally found a spot a block away. Locating the manager’s office in a unit on the ground floor, they knocked on the door, then introduced themselves to the plump, middle-aged, frowsy bleached-blonde who answered.

  “You’re police?” she asked suspiciously, after peering at their i.d.’s through thick, pink-tinted glasses. “You don’t look old enough.”

  “Thanks, ma’am. Are you the manager?” Tom asked, smiling. “If so, we wonder if you might answer a couple of questions?”