Final Act (17 page)

Shirley
watched as Withers entered the foyer from the locked stairwell, glanced at the gathered crowd, opened the locked door to the plastic bubble and relieved the tired
looking constable
.
 
H
e looked out at the waiting people
.  “Next”, he called.

***

Ten
minutes later,
the man in the royal blue blazer
stood
before Kate in her office and
introduced himself as John Graham
. 
She motioned him to sit in
Roger’s empty chair.

“
Thank you for coming in Mr. Graham.  Sgt. Withers advised
you have some information about
Camira Paul
.
”

“Yes
”, he
said.  “Hanya
George
suggested I
contact you.”

“How long ha
ve
you known Camira?”

“
Over
4
years. I was her agent up until she left modelling for acting.  Hanya called me yesterday afternoon at my office in Toronto t
o let me know about her death. I
caught
the
early bird flight this
morning.
”

Tears welled in his eyes.
Kate gave hi
m
a few moments.  He stared at
a spot on
the wall behind
her
head
until the tears dried.

“
I’m sorry for your loss.  She obviously was a close friend
of yours
.”

“
Yes, we were close.  I’m here to tell you that she did not commit suicide.  Impossible
,
I can’t believe you people can actually think that.
”

He glared at Kate,
his
captured target.

“The
final
results of the autopsy aren’t in yet but
preliminary
signs
indicat
e a possible
suicide
. 
T
he reason for her death
will be confirmed by the Coroner’s office
in the next day or so.”

“I can tell you right now
what the result will be
, either accidental death or murder.
I was with her two nights before her death. 
We had made
arrangements to meet at our favourite
restaurant
after the play.  She was bubbling over with excitement
and told me
about her new job offer
and was going to make
flight arrangements as soon as the play
wrapped. This was not a suicidal woman. 
She had just gotten the biggest break of her career.”

“Did Camira use drugs?”

The
unexpected question t
hrew him
.

“
Why?
What does that have to do with anything?
Oh, never mind.  The answer is n
o
”
,
he said.  “N
ot to my knowledge
.  She drank w
hite wine and even that was limited. She did say she would take the occasional sleeping pill, the non-addictive ones, when she was wound up from a performance
. 
Camira was a focused young woman and would not have done anything to jeopardize her career.”

“When you finished dinner, did you drive her home?”

“No,” he said.  “She brought her own car. We walked out of the restaurant together, said goodnight
,
and headed for our own cars.”

“Did you see her get into her car and drive away?”

“Yes, I stood and watched to make sure she reached it safely.”

“Did she speak to anyone on the way?”

“No,
she didn’t speak
as in a conversation
but
I saw her wave
and shout hello
to someone across the street from the theatre who was just getting into a cab.”

“Was it someone you knew? 
Did you get a good
look
at this
person?”

“No, it was no one I knew
, the
person was too far away
.
Camira waved, said hello and not getting any response,
walked to her car and drove away.”

“Had you noticed this person before Camira waved?”

“Yes, crossing the street.”

“In front of the theatre?”

“
No, not in front.  The person came out of the alleyway next to the theatre.
”

Kate scribbled furiously. 

“
Look, I came in to tell you
Camira didn’t
kill herself.
Whatever happened, it
wasn’t suicide.
  That’s all I have to say.
”

Kate
reassured him the information he had travelled so far to give them
was
appreciated and would help them in this case.
She asked him
to
give his
contact information and
statement to one of the constables.  He agreed and left the small room a few minutes later following Shirley Proctor.

Kate buzzed Gordon’s office and asked if they could meet. 
He’d see her in ten minutes which gave her just enough time to round up Roger who was in the incident room doing background research on the poison that killed Jeffrey Stone.

Seven minutes later, the two detectives sat in front of their boss’s desk.

“
So, he f
lew all the way from Toronto to tell us. 
Well, well, well
.  Lends a bit of credibility to his conviction it wasn’t suicide”, Gordon said.
“The mysterious person getting into a cab
sounds promising.  Follow up with the cab companies.”

“
We’ve already been in touch”, Kate
said.  “
Nothing turned up yet but the drivers work in shifts.  The companies are going to contact us once everyone’s been canvassed.”

“Good.  Maybe we can wrap this one up quickly. 
Okay, moving on. 
I have
a
report to share with you.” 

He passed them Shirley’s report on her interview with security at the apartment building in Bedford.
R
oger and Kate, heads
as close as wool to knitting needles,
studied
the report.  

Kate spoke first.

“The person in the elevator
, wearing t
he dark, shapeless coat
could be our killer.  Matches the
description
the security guard
gave of the person getting into the cab.
”

“Seems likely
doesn’t it”, Gordon
said.  “Okay, I’m off to brief the Chief, you two can pass the info along to the rest of the team.”

“I’m off to brief
the Chief;
you two brief the rest of the team.”

Kate waited until they were back in their office before sharing with Roger that Hanya had called her early this morning requesting a meeting. 

“Gordon has assigned Shirley to interview her and clearly doesn’t want me involved – conflict of interest.  Anyway, I told Hanya I’d meet her tomorrow morning so I may be a bit late arriving.  Cover for me will you?”

Roger nodded.  “Now, Kate, let’s talk about how we’re going to proceed with the list of companies who have
hydrogen cyanide on their premises.”

He passed her the sheet and Kate groaned.  Six companies, three each, back to the precinct to write up findings, they wouldn’t be getting an early night’s sleep.

Chapter 7

Kate kicked off her shoes
pleased to be home earlier than she thought.  Four of the companies no longer processed the hydrogen cyanide, of the other two, only one had its in the form that was used in the bottle of bourbon – Donald Sutton’s firm. 

Too tired to cook, she decided to o
rder in Chinese and watch a black and white
movie
from her 1950’s collection.  She was heading for the den when the smell of food wafted down the hallway from the kitchen.  Who the hell was cooking in her kitchen?  Her brothers had a key but it would be a stretch to think it was one of them. 
Only one other had a key.  David. 
 

He stood by the stove; a huge grin on his face.

“Hello
. 
Hope you’re hungry.
  I’ve cooked your favourite meal.
”

She did her best to hide her disappointment
however sh
e wasn’t about to hide her displeasure that he showed up unannounced. 

“What are you doing here? 
Some advance notice, a phone call,
would have been nice.  I’m on a case, you were lucky to find me home.”

A wounded look sat square centre in his face.
  “I guess I should have called
–
I’d hoped
we were past the formality stage
.”

Guilty pitch;
I’m the bitch.

“Look David,
our telephone conversation ended on a sour note so let’s not start another one. 
I’m exhausted
; we’ve
had
two murders in four days
; it’s not a good time to discuss what stage our relationship is in
.
”

“
Right, sorry,
have a seat, while I pour us a glass of wine. 
Come on
sit, I know where the wine glasses are.”

Kate
decided to sit and th
e food d
id
smell
inviting
.

“So what did you cook?”

“
I
n
the skillet are
sautéed peppers, onions, garlic, celery and chicken. 
Cooking in the pot is
pasta
Fedelini
, also known as
faithful little ones
.  
Warming in the oven is mozzarella basil bread, and
here, in my hand, is
your favourite Chardonnay
chilled the way you like it
.
”

She took a long drink. 
“
The food smells delicious but you
were taking a chance
.
I might not have made it home this early.”

“I chose
something that still tastes half decent after reheating.
And as for me, the thoughts of you arriving home, late or not, kept me fresh.  Come here.”

Tw
o hours
later
, they were in bed, bodies cooling, wine glasses, half full, on the nightstands. 
Kate, bone tired, rolled over and
was asleep in minutes. 
She woke to the smell of coffee perking.  Thirty minutes later, showered and dressed, she sat across from David at the breakfast nook. 

“I’m
off shortly. 
How long are you in town?”

“For two days.”

“I’m n
ot sure when I’ll arrive home.  We may not have much time to spend together.”

“You have to come home at night sometime. 
W
hat would you like for breakfast?
”

“
Coffee
.  I’m having breakfast with a friend this morning.”

He turned and looked at the clock on the stove but not quick enough to hide the
frown
. 
She felt the familiar stab of disappointment followed by annoyance.  Last
night had been great but the morning
wasn’t so hot.
Nothing had changed.
She
felt a sense of shame
;
she wasn’t playing fair
with him
.
No time now; s
he
stood and
kissed him on the cheek. 

“I’ve g
ot
to leave
. 
I’ll try to get home as early as I can.
 
We need to ta
lk
David
.”

The frown reappeared
.
“What about?  Things are fine; every couple goes through their ups and downs.”