The Case of the Natty Newfie

by B R Snow

  “Keep going through Naylor’s phone records and his financials. And looking for the missing cameras and computer,” Bill said. “Or some sort of storage device.”

  “And hope that someone comes forward with some information we can use,” Shirley said.

  “Or wait until they try to kill Naylor again?” I said.

  “That thought has crossed our mind,” Bill said.

  Chapter 13

  We got back to Max’s just after two, and Josie and I offered to take the dogs out. Chef Claire thanked us and headed for her room yawning, staggering slightly as she walked down the hall.

  “She’s buzzed,” Josie said, grinning. “That doesn’t happen very often.”

  “It was a good party,” I said, watching Chef Claire fumble with the doorknob before finally getting the door open. “I’m going to throw some sweats on.”

  “Good idea,” Josie said. “Meet you back here in five.”

  I headed to the bedroom to change clothes and found Max already in bed flipping through a stack of papers. He put the papers down when he noticed me slipping out of my dress.

  “You want some help with that?”

  “No,” I said, cocking my head at him. “But tell you what, as soon as I get back you can help me out of my sweats.”

  “Deal,” he said, continuing to watch me closely as I changed.

  Josie and I took the dogs outside and stood shivering in the cold and snow. Chloe and Dente took care of their business straight away, but Captain and Al, apparently miffed that we’d left them alone all night, spent several minutes traipsing around the backyard and sniffing everything in sight.

  “It’s payback time,” I said, watching the Newfie and the male Golden as they began roughhousing with each other in the snow.

  “Yeah,” Josie said, bouncing up and down on her toes and hugging herself. “C’mon, Captain. Let’s go. You’re not fooling anybody.”

  Captain paused to woof at her, then placed a giant paw on Al’s head and dunked him in the snow. Al growled, then shook the snow off his head, and grabbed the Newfie’s tail which started another round of wrestling. Despite the cold and the fact that it was way past our bedtime, we both laughed when we saw the dogs emerge from the blanket of snow that covered the backyard.

  “Did you have a good time tonight?” I said.

  “I did,” Josie said. “Apart from that supermodel staring at me.”

  “Oh,” I said, laughing. “Did Paradis take a bit of a shine to you?”

  “Apparently,” Josie said, shaking her head. “And I don’t think Claudine was very happy about it.”

  “You little homewrecker,” I said, gently punching her on the shoulder.

  “I’m sure they’ll get through it,” Josie said, laughing. “Any breakthrough on who might be trying to kill Naylor?”

  “No, but I did get a chance to chat with the Black Widow and her new fiancé.”

  “And?”

  “She knows my mom,” I said, shaking my head at the dogs. “C’mon guys, hurry up. It’s freezing out here.”

  “Really? How does she know her?”

  “I don’t know. We didn’t get to that,” I said, frowning. “It’s weird, but she sort of reminds me of my mom.”

  “You mean if your mother made it a habit to kill off her husbands?”

  “Nothing gets past you.”

  “What would make someone get married and then spend all her time thinking up creative ways to get rid of her husband?” Josie said. “Captain, let’s go.”

  “Personal challenge, I think,” I said, shaking my head.

  Chloe and Dente, apparently tired of watching the two other dogs playing in the snow, decided to join in. Soon, all four of them were rolling around and wrestling.

  “Great,” Josie said, shaking her head. “We’re going to be out here all night. Captain! Go pee.”

  “Rule number one,” I said. “Try to be smarter than the dogs.” I whistled softly, and all four dogs stopped what they were doing and cocked their heads. “Snack?”

  The dogs bounded through the snow toward the door. Halfway across the lawn, Captain remembered why he was outside, paused, then lifted his back leg. Al watched him, then did the same. We waited until they shook the snow off then headed inside.

  “I’ll handle the snacks,” Josie said. “You go to bed.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got it,” she said. “Sleep well. And try to keep it down.”

  “Funny.”

  I walked into the bedroom still shivering and saw Max going through the stack of papers. He glanced up at me.

  “What took you so long?”

  “Al and Captain were staging a protest,” I said. “It’s freezing out there.”

  “I can help you with that,” he said, pulling back the covers.

  “I’m counting on it,” I said, nodding as I undressed and slid into bed next to him.

  “This is the best,” he said, sliding an arm underneath my head and pulling me close.

  “It is,” I said, nuzzling the crook of his neck and shoulders.

  “Oh, I forgot to mention that Aunt Jennifer invited us to dinner tomorrow night.”

  “Restaurant?” I said, glancing up at the ceiling.

  “No, she wants to cook for us,” Max said.

  “Interesting.”

  “Interesting how?” he said, glancing over at me.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know exactly what I mean,” Max said, squeezing my shoulder. “We’re way past coy, Suzy, so let’s not go there.”

  “I’m just saying that it will be interesting to spend some more time with her,” I said, deflecting. “I didn’t really get a chance to talk to her tonight.”

  “She doesn’t have anything to do with this Naylor thing,” Max said, his voice turning protective.

  “I’m sure you’re right,’ I said, my neurons flaring despite my best efforts. “Dinner sounds great.”

  “I have an all-day meeting tomorrow, so I might have to meet you guys there.”

  “That’s fine,” I said, nodding as I stared back up at the ceiling. “What time should we be there?”

  “Eight o’clock,” Max said. “Sorry to leave you alone all day, but I can’t get out of this one.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said, then grinned up at him. “Saving the earth is a 24/7 job, right, Supermax?”

  “You’re really not funny.”

  “Disagree,” I said, trying to squirm away from the tickling he was giving me.

  “What are you guys going to do tomorrow?”

  “Chef Claire wants to do another day of cross country. And I think Josie just wants to hang out and catch up on her sleep. I thought I might go for a drive around the city.”

  “A drive? Where?”

  “No place special. Just drive around for a while. You know, just to clear my head.”

  “Good luck with that,” he said, laughing.

  “Hey,” I said, punching his shoulder. “Be nice.”

  “You wouldn’t be planning on doing a little snooping, would you?”

  “No.”

  “Suzy?”

  “I wouldn’t call it snooping.”

  “Suzy.”

  “Yeah, maybe a little,” I said, yawning. “But don’t worry, it’s nothing dangerous. I’m just trying to tie up a loose end.”

  “I really wish you’d stop doing this stuff,” Max said, sitting up in bed.

  “And I wish you didn’t need to spend months away at a time in dangerous disaster areas,” I said, staring at him.

  He stared back at me, then eventually smiled and nodded.

  “Fair enough,” he said. “Just promise me you’ll be careful and not do anything stupid.”

  “Sure, sure.”

  We settled back down in bed and resumed our previous position.

  “You want to fool around, or are you too tired?” he said.

  “I’m pretty tired,” I said. “Maybe we shou
ld just wait until morning.”

  “Okay.”

  He leaned over to turn off the light then settled in next to me. Several moments of silence followed, then I whispered to him.

  “Max?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You know, now that I think about it, technically, it’s already morning.”

  “That is a good point.”

  Chapter 14

  By nine in the morning, Chef Claire had already made breakfast for everyone, showered and changed into her ski clothes, and headed out the back door carrying her skis and poles with all four dogs excitedly bouncing at her feet. We looked out the kitchen window and watched her make her way to the cross-country trail that ran behind Max’s house and led to a large park not far from downtown.

  “She’s a brave woman,” Josie said.

  “Because she’s going cross-country again or because she’ll be doing it while trying not to get run over by those four bruisers?” I said.

  “Both,” she said, laughing as the dogs knocked Chef Claire over while she was bending down to slip her skis on. “I’ll clean up, then I’m going back to bed.”

  “You sure you don’t want to go for a drive?”

  “Do you need my help?”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head.

  “Then I’m gonna pass,” Josie said. “But you’ll be back in plenty of time to go to dinner, right?”

  “I will,” I said, grabbing my keys off the counter. “Have fun.”

  I headed down the driveway and climbed into my SUV. I punched the address into the navigation system and followed the suggested route to the southern end of the city. It had started snowing again, and I shook my head at the early onset of winter that seemed determined to hang around. A half hour later, after making a couple of wrong turns despite the excellent directions, I located Devil’s Way Road and drove past several apartment buildings and townhouse complexes until I reached the aptly numbered 666.

  Compared to some of the depressed urban blight I’d seen in the States, it was in decent shape. But it was definitely the poorest section of Ottawa I’d ever seen. I parked in front, glanced around the empty street, and headed for the entrance. Just inside the alcove were a set of mailboxes. I scanned them, located Melinda’s name next to another woman’s, then pressed the buzzer.

  “Can I help you?” said the voice through the intercom.

  “Hi. I’m here about Melinda,” I said, shivering as a gust of wind blew through a gap in the double doors.

  “Cop?”

  “No, I’m not a cop.”

  “Were you a friend of hers?”

  “More like a friend of a friend,” I said, bouncing up and down on my feet.

  “What do you want?”

  “At the moment, I want to get out of the frigging cold.”

  The woman laughed, and seconds later I was buzzed in. I headed down a long hallway on the first floor until I found the apartment. I knocked, and the door opened almost immediately. An obviously fatigued woman somewhere in her thirties stared at me.

  “Are you Jane?” I said.

  “I am. And you are?”

  “Suzy Chandler.”

  “Who’s the friend you were referring to?” she said, her arms folded across her chest.

  “John Naylor.”

  She thought for a moment, then nodded and stepped back from the door as she waved me in. I entered, unzipped my coat and glanced around. Bill and Shirley hadn’t been kidding. The place was dreadful.

  “You want some coffee?” she said.

  “Actually, that sounds good. Thanks,” I said, then flinched when I caught a glimpse of what looked like a rodent’s tail disappearing behind the fridge.

  “That’s Billy,” the woman said, following my eyes. “Since the landlord refuses to get rid of the infestation, Melinda and I thought the least we could do was give the little guy a name.”

  “How do you know it’s the same mouse?” I said, glancing down at the floor for signs of more.

  “I don’t,” she said, shrugging. “But as long as I keep calling each one I see Billy, there’s only one mouse, right?”

  “I don’t think I’d be able to keep my sense of humor about something like that,” I said, removing my coat, unsure if I wanted to set it down. For the moment, I continued to hold it in my arms.

  “Compared to what some of the other residents are dealing with, a mouse is way down the list,” she said, handing me a mug of coffee.

  I took a sip and nodded. “This is great.”

  “Good coffee is the one luxury item I allow myself these days,” she said, leading the way to a small table next to the kitchenette.

  It wasn’t a long walk.

  She removed a stack of textbooks from the table and closed her laptop. She set them down on the coffee table in the living room that, to be generous, was kitchenette adjacent. Jane noticed the look on my face and shrugged.

  “Yeah, I know, the place sucks,” she said.

  “No, it’s not…sorry. That was rude of me,” I said, embarrassed.

  “There’s no need to apologize,” she said, sipping her coffee. “It’s unbelievably bad.” Then she gave me a small smile. “But in about six months, this will all be a distant memory. Unfortunately for them, most of the other residents won’t be able to say the same thing.”

  “You finish school in six months?” I said, glancing at the textbooks that all appeared to be science related.

  “I finish my classes,” she said. “Then I need to write my dissertation. But I’m going home to stay with my folks while I do that.”

  I decided that was probably a good decision on her part but said nothing.

  “What are you getting your PhD in?”

  “Biochemistry,” she said, glancing at me over the top of her coffee mug.

  “Sounds hard,” I said, frowning.

  “It is. My plan is to get into Forensics.”

  “Really?” I said, my neurons flaring. “Like criminal Forensics?”

  “Pretty much,” she said, nodding. “I’ve always been fascinated by it. I just hope I can find a job.”

  “Well, it is a growth industry,” I said.

  “Yeah, I suppose it is,” she said, laughing. “What can I do for you?”

  “I’m just trying to put a few pieces together. And I’m so sorry about what happened to Melinda.”

  “Yeah,” Jane said, tearing up. “She was a really nice kid.”

  “I only met her once, but she seemed really upbeat.”

  “Most days, she was,” Jane said, grabbing both of our mugs and heading for the coffeemaker. She refilled them and sat back down.

  “Most days?” I said, frowning at her.

  “Yeah, the past several months she’d been doing much better,” Jane said. “But lately, she’d been…I guess preoccupied is the best way to describe it.”

  “I heard that she had a tough time when she was growing up.”

  “She did. Bad family, ran away a couple of times, then finally managed to get away for good when she turned sixteen.”

  “How did you guys meet?”

  “I posted an ad for a roommate, and she was the first person who showed up,” Jane said. “The first few months were pretty tough, but eventually she settled down when Naylor hired her. I think that job was the thing that turned her life around.”

  “Really?”

  “Melinda struggled with depression,” Jane said, drumming her fingers on the table. “But Naylor really encouraged her. She started taking photos and writing. And she almost had enough to finish her book.”

  “She was writing a book?” I said, toying with my coffee mug.

  “Yeah, from what I could tell, she was very talented. I think Naylor saw something in her, and he spent a lot of time working with her to bring it out.”

  “Do you know him?”

  “Naylor? Yeah, I met him a couple of times,” Jane said. “He doesn’t seem anything like his reputation. Melinda loved the guy.”

 
“But not in that way, right?”

  “You mean as lovers?”

  “Yeah.”

  “No,” Jane said, shaking her head. “No way. To her, Naylor was part father, part brother. And he was very protective of her.”

  “What was her book going to be about?”

  “A collection of photographs and some of her poems,” Jane said. “But she was insecure about her work and wouldn’t ever let me see her stuff.”

  “That’s too bad,” I said.

  “Yeah, I would have liked to have seen what she’d come up with. But the cops said that a lot of equipment was stolen from Naylor’s loft. I hope all her photos turn up.”

  “She didn’t have a camera here?” I said, glancing around.

  “No,” Jane said, shaking her head. “Neither one of us kept anything here of value. Every time I go out, even if it’s down the street for milk, I take my laptop with me. She left most of her work and equipment at Naylor’s place.”

  “Yeah, I guess that makes sense,” I said, sipping my coffee as I glanced around the tiny apartment again.

  “The concept for the book sounded pretty cool, and I loved the title.”

  I glanced at her as I took another sip of coffee and waited for her to continue.

  “She was going to call it Life in Moments: A Voyeur’s Guide.”

  My neurons surged, and I visibly flinched.

  “Are you okay?” Jane said, concerned.

  “I’m fine, thanks. Where on earth did she come up with that title?”

  “The concept for the book centered on the idea that life is simply a collection of moments, and if one pays close enough attention, you know, sort of like a voyeur might do, everything you need to know about somebody is right in front of you.”

  “Unbelievable,” I said, exhaling audibly as I remembered my conversation with the actor at the Christmas party.

  “Yeah, it’s a great idea. She said she was going to focus on different people and get as many photos as she could and then present them in a way that told their story. Then she was going to write various personal essays and poems that tied the visual narrative together. Her term, not mine.”

  “Got it,” I said, absentmindedly stirring my coffee. “She ever let you read any of her poems?”