by Karen Long
Mo selected a sheet of names and addresses and placed it in front of Bob. He looked at the list and nodded. “Yes, that’s them.”
Mo took the sheet and passed it to Eleanor, who read through the list as Bob carried on.
“She went with Liza to clean and they finished at around four and according to her mother she had a shower and then went out to meet her friends at a bar. I was at work and didn’t get home till round seven-ish. Michelle said she’d be back at eleven but by twelve she wasn’t home. I called her friend Esme Randall, who told me she’d never shown.” He shook his head and looked at his hands.
“What did Esme and her friends think when she didn’t show up?” asked Mo quietly.
Bob shook his head. “They had tried calling, as we had, but the phone was dead.”
“It was never found.”
“No, the phone never showed up, neither did Michelle or any trace of her,” he cleared his throat. “Until now.” He shuddered and when he began to speak again his voice was slightly louder and higher in pitch. “I saw her. She was… recognisable… as Michelle.” He focused his gaze intently on Eleanor. “Doctor Hounslow swore to me that whoever killed her did it quickly; straight away.” He was beginning to get agitated. “That she hadn’t been alive all these years and locked up.” Bob Brown turned away, his shoulders slumped and his eyes and face wet. “Because I couldn’t bear that she was alive and I hadn’t found her.”
“I think she was murdered around the time she was taken. There were no marks on her body as far as Doctor Hounslow could see, which means she didn’t die a violent death. She was…” Eleanor chose her words carefully, “…gone and unaware of the abuse that followed. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
He stared at her, eventually nodding slowly.
“There’s a possibility that Michelle’s murderer selected her. Perhaps he’d seen her on a previous occasion. Maybe she knew him, however vaguely.”
“A friend?” he said horrified.
“No, an acquaintance, maybe not even that. All of her friends were checked and rechecked and she didn’t seem to lead a secretive life.”
“No, she was open and friendly and liked people, that was why she wanted to be a nurse.” He looked away. “She knew she was different, with having the Marfan and all but she’d laugh about her height.”
“She was six foot two wasn’t she?” said Mo.
Bob smiled. “Her mother was tall but Michelle towered over everyone.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “She said that people would think she was a tranny when she wore heels.” He laughed. “She was a good sport.” Suddenly Bob stopped smiling and looked at Eleanor. “It was a joke,” he said with an apologetic edge.
“Mr Brown did your daughter have any connection to the museum. The ROM?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so… Hang on, how’d you mean?”
Eleanor felt her stomach tighten. “Had she any connection to the city museum in any capacity?”
“She went for an interview there about a week or so before she died. It was a cleaning job but she didn’t get it…Is that what you mean?”
Chapter Nineteen
“Do you remember interviewing her?” asked Eleanor hopefully, writing notes with her right and cradling the receiver in her left.
“I’m sorry I really don’t recall her that well,” said Isabel Drake. “There were two candidates for the cleaning job and we offered it to Mrs Perkins because she was happy to take the full contract. I think Miss Brown only wanted the contract till the end of the summer.” She paused for a moment. “Detective Raven, I really feel as though there’s something more going on than the stealing of a few artefacts. You’re a homicide detective aren’t you?”
“I am yes.”
Suddenly Isabel Drake let out a gasp, “I recognise the name…from the papers this morning. Michelle Brown was one of the landfill victims wasn’t she?”
“Yes she was.”
“Do you think that someone working here is responsible for those murders?”
“I have no idea,” replied Eleanor. “Do you?”
Toby was taken aback by the cost of the Toronto Sun and his natural reticence for spending made him almost tempted to reject the purchase but he desperately needed to know how much information the police had and whether or not they had linked Little Tommy’s disappearance to him. He sat down in the quadrangle and read. He wasn’t entirely sure how to sift the facts from journalistic hyperbole but noted, with a degree of comfort, that Tommy held the front page and that the two detectives in charge of this investigation weren’t the same as the two allocated to Giselle and Michelle’s case. Something that wouldn’t have been plausible if the cases had been deemed connected. As for the disposal of Parminder Kaur, there was only a small mention on page eight, which appeared to conclude that the detectives were stymied as to the motivation. Toby took a deep breath and relaxed. He had wound himself into a state of distraction over the whole business and needed a few moments to calm down and get matters into perspective. Of Tara, there had been nothing. No mention however oblique had been made to her disappearance and this was the best news of all. When he thought about things in the clear light of day he realised that he’d jumped to conclusions. As it was, Enda would be found guilty of stealing objects and would lose his job, a scenario that suited Toby just fine.
Laurence was troubled. He had found an excuse to go and investigate on his own, leaving Eleanor to pursue a different line. It wasn’t the most effective way to conduct an investigation but he had no idea what was happening to the woman. She seemed incapable of rational thought at the moment and after having announced to the whole department that she knew who had taken Tommy Banks, he felt the need to distance himself from her. He’d popped in to see Marty Samuelson earlier about whether or not the transfer he wanted was going to be sanctioned but the short shrift he’d received from his boss put that thought on hold for a while longer. He had been so desperate to win Eleanor over and shift her dogged allegiance from Mo to himself, that he hadn’t really considered that her methods were, at best, unorthodox. It was undeniable that she had the best solve rate in the department and, some considered, the city itself but where the hell was she dragging him with these ideas? It was as if her encounter with Lee Hughes had killed all the sense in her. He mulled over these thoughts, as he pulled into a spare parking spot outside the forensic labs. Monster began to whine, presumably in anticipation of getting out and stretching his legs. He’d promised Kate on reception that he’d bring him and no one ever denied her a request.
Monster trotted through the automatic doors and headed straight over to Kate. Laurence winced as he saw the huge creature put both forepaws on the edge of her wheelchair and tower above her. Kate responded by flinging her arms round him and burying her face in his fur. A gesture both seemed happy with, as it was sustained for several moments. “Every time he does that my heart leaps into my mouth,” said Laurence as he signed in and helped himself to a visitor’s badge.
“He’s fine, he’s never going to knock me over and if he does I get a good-looking cop to lift me back in,” she giggled.
“I’m not seeing any of those round here,” said Laurence.
“You tease,” she said, examining Monster’s re-stitched head. “Aww, it looks so sore!”
“Well, he shouldn’t have pulled out all the stiches with his foot should he?”
“I guess not,” she said stroking him. Monster had caught a glimpse of a couple of patrol officers arriving with several boxes. “Go on,” she said shoving him gently. Monster trotted off happily to pursue more attention.
“You ok with him while I pop up and grab my report?” he asked.
“Of course.”
Laurence headed for the stairs. “How’d you know he’s not going to tip you over?”
“Because he’s smart. When he walks towards the door, he never stops or slows down because he understands how fast the doors open and where they register him as approachin
g. Never seen any other dog that can do that. Hell, most people can’t do that.”
Laurence turned to face the glass doors, noticing that several people had approached them too quickly and had to stop and wait for the mechanism to catch up with their movement. “You sure?” he asked. “He seems like a bit of an asshole to me.”
Kate smiled. “You need to have a little more faith in others.”
He looked at Kate and then at Monster, who had adopted the ‘tickle me’ position, managing to bring all work and traffic in the building atrium to a standstill. ‘Hmm,” said Laurence non-committedly.
“We are doing our best but there’s a backlog and your case isn’t a priority,” said Dr Andrews, as he identified Enda Miller’s personal laptop as having arrived in the holding pen. He turned over the page. “However, the laptop brought in earlier from the ROM has been printed and suctioned. It’s due for system analysis later.”
“How much later?” asked Laurence.
“Well let’s measure that concept shall we,” said Dr Andrews acidly.
Laurence tapped lightly on Susan Cheung’s door and slipped his head round. “Hey Susan, just in the neighbourhood…”
“The hell you were Whitefoot. You’re hoping to bully your caseload through.”
“Yup. Any news?”
“Funny you should mention but look at this.” She beckoned him over to the adjoining room, where several plastic tubs, all bearing labels, barcodes and evidence tags were piled on trolleys waiting for attention. She opened a plastic tub after checking the label and slipping on latex gloves, picked out a small plastic wallet, sealed and barcoded. She held it up to eye level. It contained about a teaspoon full of dust and hair. “This was suctioned out of the laptop you sent in this morning. It’s got a rather interesting hair in it.”
“Go on,” said Laurence, wondering where this was going.
“I haven’t started processing this yet but I took a quick look under the microscope just to confirm I was right.” She jiggled the contents and then pointed to a hair that was clearly distinguishable by its colour.”
“Shit!” said Laurence excitedly, seeing the three-inch-long red hair.
“I’m going to try and do this properly later on this afternoon. But unofficially it’s a hair from an Irish red setter.”
“That’s fantastic. I can get a warrant on that basis as soon as you’ve confirmed that it’s –”
Susan interrupted. “But I took this from the museum laptop and what’s even more interesting is that there weren’t any fingerprints on the keyboard.”
“What do you mean?” asked Laurence confused.
“Plenty on the case but someone wiped the keypad clean.”
“When can you run them?” he said, struggling to make sense of the information.
“I can’t today but will as soon as I can. I had to dust and suction so the IT guys could start whenever. I’m not sure how the home laptop is going to be tackled as it will be dried out first, which can take several days.”
“Ok,” he said, waggling his phone at her. “Call me as soon as you…”
“Yeah, yeah,” she waved her hand dismissively and carried on with her work.
Monster was lying contentedly next to Kate’s wheelchair keeping a careful eye on all the comings and goings. “He behave himself?” asked Laurence.
Kate smiled. “Of course!”
Monster caught sight of Timms approaching from the steps and bounded over to greet him. “Hey Kate,” said Timms, as he ruffled the dog’s ears.
“How’s it going?” she asked. Timms grimaced and shook his head.
“That good huh?”
“You know it,” he replied glumly. “Hey Whitefoot, you leaving?”
“Yup. Listen…” said Laurence, manoeuvring Timms away from reception. “I wanted to say that I wasn’t aware Raven had been thinking in those terms and if I had, I would have got her to think it over before announcing it to the whole department.”
“Uh-huh…” said Timms, his eyes narrowing. “You just told me this or anyone else?”
“What do you mean?” said Laurence, confused.
“I’m not sure what the point is you’re making here but if my partner blasted a theory outta her ass and God knows that’s a monthly event, I’d be backing her up one hundred per cent…in public! You getting me? You disagree with the shit your partner’s coming out with it’s a private matter.” Timms moved closer to Laurence and examined his face as he spoke. “The second thing is that however bat-shit nuts the thinking is behind Raven’s ideas, she is generally right. You and me,” he said poking him in the sternum with a finger, “we don’t think outside of the box. We just keep digging and bullying till something sticks. Raven thinks creatively and remember that next time you want to apologise for her doing that. Now I think her latest idea’s a big bag of shit but I wouldn’t be overly surprised if there was some grain of truth there.”
Laurence stared back at him, his lips pursed and jaw clamped tightly shut.
“Loyalty Whitefoot, that’s the key to a partnership.”
Irritated, Laurence headed for the door. He gave a low whistle hoping that Monster wouldn’t require a second. He paused momentarily as the doors opened, noting with satisfaction that Monster trotted past obediently.
He turned to look at Kate who smiled and nodded. “See,” she said.
“Where are you now?” asked Laurence, pulling into the traffic. He heard a sigh on the end of the line.
“I’m in the office but will be heading over to the museum shortly.”
“Well wait, I’m coming with you,” he replied.
“Okay,” she replied.
Eleanor drove swiftly and a little erratically through the stagnating traffic. If the car journey had been intended as an opportunity for Laurence to discuss some of Eleanor’s recent statements on possible links to suspects, it wasn’t to be. There had been a steady stream of incoming calls to Laurence and Eleanor was finding his laid back conversational phone manner increasingly irritating.
“Fantastic… Thanks for that… You too,” he replied, scribbling a couple of notes in his pad. “Okaay… How does this sound? That was the waitress from The Libertine and she managed to chat to one of the guys she recalled hung around with Giselle from time to time. She thinks he might remember the boyfriend. I’ll follow that one up.”
There was a pause, as Eleanor manoeuvred the car into a bay, careful not to scratch the beautifully preserved Oldsmobile to her left. In the unforgiving summer sun, Laurence noted that her skin looked dry and grey, her eyes rimmed with dark shadows. As she pulled the key out of the ignition she caught his expression. “What,” she snapped. “Are we about to discuss whether I’m fit enough mentally and/or physically to do the job?”
“No, I was just wondering how you are?” he said lamely.
“Fabulous,” she replied indifferently.
Eleanor walked slowly through the cool atrium of the museum, stopping to show her badge to the receptionist who nodded and waved her in. “What are we looking for?” asked Laurence, contritely
She sighed. “A sign.”
Laurence nodded. “Any idea of what form this will take?”
“Signs have a habit of being retrospective beacons unfortunately.” Then in a lighter but lower tone, “What we have, apart from gut instinct, is a series of links to this institution. Giselle had kept a brochure of a ROM ‘Animals in Art’ exhibition amongst her possessions. She had a snake that originated from here and possibly a pair of skulls. Parminder may have called the museum hours before her murder and Michelle Brown had attended a job interview in the museum days before her disappearance.”
Laurence pondered and nodded, determined at this stage not to point out the discrepancies and vagaries of the links.
“Michelle Brown’s body had trace evidence of dog hairs, the same as the one found in Miller’s work laptop. That’s solid evidence, unless there’s been a breach of handling protocol. There was no dog found in End
a’s apartment was there?”
Laurence shook his head. “So, what are we looking for?”
She smiled and shrugged. “We’re looking for a Collector and a museum seems as good a place to start as any.”
Isabel Drake knocked lightly on the door and turned the handle when no response was forthcoming. Frowning, she selected the master on a small key-ring and opened the door to Enda and Toby’s shared office. “I’m really not sure where Toby is at the moment,” she checked her watch. “I suppose he might be taking an afternoon break in the canteen… Shall I page him?”
“Yes please,” said Eleanor, walking into the room and absorbing the ambience.
“Has Enda Miller been arrested?” asked Isabel cautiously.
“I take it you have no objections to me looking around?” asked Eleanor.
“Of course not,” responded Isabel. “I’ll just…” she waved her phone and tiptoed back out into the corridor. Seeing an opportunity, Laurence closed the door carefully behind her. Eleanor slipped on a pair of latex gloves and began to run her fingers along Enda’s table, pulling out the drawers and looking through them. Laurence turned his attention to the bookcases on the peripheries of the room. “Anything?” he asked.
Eleanor had replaced the bottom drawer and was pulling out the top one. “Check the other desk,” she said, nodding towards Toby’s. With a furtive glance at the door, Laurence scanned the tidy desk, notable for its absence of personal objects. There were two pens and a pencil in a small jam jar and two trays marked ‘in’ and ‘out’, positioned at one end. He pulled out a drawer and began to leaf through the meagre contents. A roll of what looked like picture hanging wire was uncoiling messily in the back of the first and a collection of jewel beetles preserved in resin sat in a small ceramic bowl alongside various papers and photocopies bound together in a clip file in the bottom drawer. Flicking through the papers, Laurence noted that most of the subject matter seemed to be concerned with a new paper on Occupational Health and Safety Regulations, an area that drew yawns from all but the heartiest of jobsworths.
