An Indecent Death (17 page)

“I’m a bit worried about Karl,” she said.

“Karl?” Drumm was surprised. “Why?”

“He doesn’t look good, like he’s not sleeping properly. And he seems distracted, like something’s on his mind. He’s not working out, either, which is quite disturbing. You know how fanatical he is about his fitness.”

Drumm said, “I didn’t know that about the workouts. Interesting you should bring this up today, though. I got a call from Mac Pilson from the Guns and Gangs unit this morning. Karl’s involved with them on a case from last year. He was supposed to meet Mac this morning and he didn’t show up on time. He turned up eventually, nearly an hour late, Mac said. Pilson wasn’t impressed.”

Lori stared. “Karl late? That’s unheard of. Something is definitely wrong then.”

Drumm mused, “It would seem so. I’ll have to have a chat with him.”

“Another thing, Nick.” Lori paused. “Have I done something to offend you?”

Drumm said, rather dryly, “You could be sure I’d tell you if you had. What do you mean exactly?”

There was no easy way to say this, thought Lori, and she might be dooming her career, but she was determined to have her say. “It’s just that I don’t think you’re using me properly. Most of what you ask me to do is routine, dull stuff, like background checks or canvasses. And my opinion doesn’t seem to count for much. Am I a part of the team or not? Do I matter as much as Karl, or not? Because sometimes it seems like I’m just the token female, the one who gets the ‘talk to the female witness’ jobs. Maybe I shouldn’t be saying all this but it’s how I feel. I want to be more than just your ‘woman detective’ or even worse, your ‘Indian detective’.”

Drumm looked surprised for a minute and then he sighed. “Lori, I respect your abilities as a detective, first and foremost. I don’t see you as a woman or as Indian, I see you as an investigator. I use you in what I think is the best way to help solve the case. I’m sorry if you don’t agree with that, but I’m afraid that’s the way it is. I don’t have time to try and figure out whether you will like the assignments I give you.”

“I didn’t mean it that way. I just think I am ready for a bigger role.”

“Duly noted, Detective Singh. And I appreciate your comments about Karl.” Drumm looked at his watch. “We’d better head out.”

Lori regretted the formality that had crept back into their conversation. She hoped it was temporary. And she wasn’t sure if she had worsened her situation or not. Drumm was clearly not pleased; that much was obvious.

They headed back out to Hillsdale Park. On a sunny Sunday afternoon in May they expected it to be a busy place, and indeed it was. Drumm had trouble finding a parking spot even though it was a large lot. Hillsdale Park was a favourite destination for Toronto picnickers, and there were plenty of these, speaking a multitude of languages, as well as dog walkers and other local residents enjoying an afternoon in the sun.

It was Drumm’s habit to revisit crime scenes, to see if the situation was as he remembered it, and in hopes that something new would occur to him. More than once in the past, he’d gained some fresh insight from a second look at where a crime had been committed. Drumm equated it with doing a crossword puzzle, when he could be completely stumped, even after fifteen minutes of staring at a clue. Then, some time away from it, a fresh look, and usually he could get the word right away. He wasn’t expecting that with this case, just hopeful, and determined to cover all the bases.

So he and Lori strolled along the trail, periodically dodging joggers and chattering family groupings. Drumm said, “Do you remember where that small piece of red plastic was found, Lori? I seem to recall that it was just up there, near that large rock.”

Singh pulled out her notebook and consulted it briefly. “Good memory. It was just past it, on the right. Do you still think it’s from Bill Deans’ bumper?”

Drumm said, “Probably it’s not. But if he was trying to get his vehicle in here, it would have been dark and he would have been nervous. It’s possible in his rush, he could have misjudged things and bashed into that rock. I’ve asked the lab to check and see if the plastic piece might have been from a Chevy Equinox.”

“Was there room to get past the barrier back there at the parking lot, though?” Lori Singh sounded skeptical.

Drumm had looked carefully at it on the way by and he’d already decided that it was possible. But he said, “Let’s go back and check.”

Lori took a look at the gap between the concrete barrier and the wooden post. “It’s
just
possible, I guess. But a tight squeeze.”

They walked back along the path to the area where the body had been found. There was nothing to mark the spot anymore, as the yellow crime scene tape had been removed. But they had no difficulty locating it. Drumm and Singh stood staring down at the scuffed ground, then they looked back towards the parking lot.

“Let’s go, Lori. There’s nothing to be gained standing here. And we’re starting to attract attention. Show me these geese of yours.”

“There won’t be any around at this time of day. It’s way too busy.”

“Well then, show me where you like to sit.”

They arrived at the spot where she usually dismounted from her bicycle and wheeled it to a secluded vantage point. “It’s just over here.”

Drumm was reminded of his lunchtime encounter with Emily. That had been on a different day, at a different park, but standing with an attractive woman looking out over the lake, he couldn’t help but remember the circumstances. And without knowing it, he got a little smile on his face. He became aware that Lori was looking at him a little strangely, and then he realized what he had been doing. “My apologies, I was daydreaming.” He paused, then said, “There’s nothing left of her here, Lori. Nothing at all. I’m afraid this has been a complete waste of time. Let’s head out.”

Lori walked side by side with her boss. Privately she agreed with him that there was nothing left of Sarah Noonan at the park, but not that it had been a waste of time. After all, she’d had a nice lunch with Drumm, and said what was on her mind, even though it was possible that she had now annoyed and offended him. And she had alerted him to her concern about Karl. If Drumm was the man she thought he was, he would deal with her comments fairly and she would be better off in the long run. And if he wasn’t who she thought he was, then she would have to transfer, that was all. There were worse things in life than that.

Drumm felt agitated and discontented but he was trying not to show it. Sitting outside on his back patio with Emily beside him, he attempted to enjoy doing nothing. The problem was that his mind wouldn’t let him.

Emily had been waiting for him when he got home, sitting quietly on his front porch, smartly dressed in a skirt and blouse and her leather jacket on her lap. She had her briefcase beside her, having come directly from work. She was apologetic and teary.

“I’m sorry, Nicky. I shouldn’t have said those things. I was just upset, I overreacted. Forgive me, please?”

Drumm had taken her in his arms and said that of course he would forgive her, but inside he was thinking, here we go again.

They had gone in, prepared a nice dinner, enjoyed it outside in the warm weather and were now relaxing with their drinks, white wine for Emily and a Corona for him. His blood sugar was under control and shortly they would take Will for his evening constitutional. He should be happy.

What to do about Emily? Having agreed to get back together with her again, he was determined to try and make things work, but what could he do differently? His job took a lot of his time and she simply didn’t seem able to handle it, despite her counseling. Emily insisted she was better, but if so, it wasn’t obvious to him. Should he end things now, before allowing himself to get entangled even further?

Then there were Lori Singh’s comments to consider. Was she right? Was he indeed not treating her fairly? Or was he rather, as she had implied, using her improperly, as a token female, Indian officer?

He had to talk to Karl, too, and find out what was troubling him. Because clearly something was. Maybe Wesson was pissed at him, too. Everyone else seemed to be: Emily, Lori Singh, Mark Chappell.

Drumm sighed. At least Will was happy with him. He looked over at Emily. She looked so beautiful, her face golden in the waning evening light. He hoped it would all work out. “Ready, Emily? Ready, Will? Time to scamper.”

“I’m looking for Detective Drumm.” The speaker was an older woman, with grey hair and glasses. She held a card in her hand, Wesson noticed.

“He’s not here at the moment, ma’am. May I help you? I’m Detective Karl Wesson.”

“I was actually looking for Detective Sergeant Drumm,” she said. “He left his card in my apartment, slipped it under my door, actually. I’m Mildred Wade.”

Karl repeated, “Detective Drumm isn’t here at the moment, Ms Wade. I’m sure I can assist you, if you let me know what it’s about. We’re working together. You said he put his card under your door? Where do you live then?”

“I live on Queen Street. I’m retired.”

“Ah!” Karl suddenly realized whom she must be. “You’re a neighbour of Terry Noonan.”

“That’s right. I was away visiting my sister for a few days. She’s not well, you see. I came back to find Detective Sergeant Drumm’s card with this written on the back.” She showed Wesson the back of the card. ‘Please call me ASAP. It’s urgent.’ “So I came down to the station right away this morning. I tried calling but I just got his voicemail. Why did he want to talk to me?”

Wesson said, “Please sit down, Ms Wade.”

“It’s Mrs. Wade, actually. I’ve been a widow for seven years.”

“Mrs. Wade, it’s about the murder of Sarah Noonan. I’m sure you’ve heard of it?”

Mildred Wade pushed her glasses up her nose. “Yes, Detective, I am aware that Terry’s wife was killed. But what has that to do with me?”

Wesson began to wonder which one of them was in charge of this conversation. This woman was clearly a no-nonsense type, used to giving directions. “Terry Noonan is a suspect in the murder of his wife. We have been trying to determine his whereabouts on the night of Friday, May the twelfth. He says he was home that evening, but we can’t verify that. Detective Sergeant Drumm has been trying to contact all of Mr. Noonan’s neighbours to see if any of you could confirm his story.” He paused. “Can you?”

“Friday the twelfth? That was the night his wife was killed, wasn’t it? She was a teacher, just like I used to be.”

“That’s right, Mrs. Wade. Now, can you tell us anything of interest?”

“Yes, I believe I can. I was at the movie theatre that night, over at the Pinewoods Mall. I was with a friend and we saw the new Tom Hanks movie. Carol – that’s my friend – dropped me off at the front of my building.”

Wesson was making notes, wondering where this was leading. If she had been out, how could she know anything? “Yes?” His tone was not encouraging.

“On my way into the building, I noticed the flickering light of the TV in Mr. Noonan’s apartment. He only has some sheers in the window. I don’t know how he can stand to be so visible to anyone who walks in the building. Maybe he can’t afford proper curtains, I don’t know.”

This was interesting, thought Karl. “What time was this, ma’am?”

“I’ve been thinking about that. The movie ended at about 8:45 – we always go to the early showing – and then Carol and I went out for coffee and a bite. I think I got home about 9:45.”

Karl said, “You said you noticed the TV was on. But did you see Mr. Noonan?”

“I saw him sitting in a chair, yes.”

“Are you sure it was him? The curtains – the sheers – they were open then?”

“No, they were closed. But I could tell it was him, from the way he was sitting.”

Wesson said, “This is important, Mrs. Wade, so please think carefully. Could you clearly see his face? Well enough to testify in court that it was definitely him?”

Mildred Wade looked uncertain for the first time. “His face? No, I couldn’t see it that well. Not enough to swear in court. But I know it was him; I’ve seen him sit there like that many times before.”

“Could you hear what he was watching, ma’am?”

“Yes, it sounded like a baseball game. I could hear it as I walked past his apartment door. I live two apartments over from him.”

Wesson said, “Thank you, ma’am, that’s very helpful. And you’re observant.” He paused. “We’re also wondering about Mr. Noonan’s whereabouts last Friday evening. That would be the nineteenth. Do you know anything about that?”

“The nineteenth? That’s only three days ago. What’s that got to do with anything?”

“I can’t tell you that yet, ma’am. But do you know if Mr. Noonan was in that night?” Wesson leaned forward in his chair, looking hopeful.

“I’m afraid not, no. I wasn’t feeling well Friday night, so I went to bed early. I don’t think I saw Terry at all that day.” At Wesson’s look of disappointment, she continued, “Sorry.”

“That’s alright, Mrs. Wade. What you’ve told me is of considerable interest. So thank you.”

“I always try to be a good citizen, Detective.” She stood up. “I’ll get along now. I’m sure you have lots to do. And I know I have.”

“If you think of anything else, Mrs. Wade, please let me know.” He gave her his card. “I’ll let Detective Sergeant Drumm know what you’ve said. He’ll certainly want to talk to you. You can expect his call today.”

Mildred Wade shook his hand goodbye and marched out of the office.

“Well, well,” Karl said aloud. He picked up the phone to contact Drumm.

Mrs. McCall greeted Drumm and Singh warmly when they showed up at Elmdale Elementary later in the morning. As usual the school office hummed with activity. There were a couple of parents standing at the counter and three students sitting in chairs waiting. An educational assistant whom Drumm recognized from a previous visit came in, pushing a young lad in a wheelchair. Drumm indicated to the secretary that they wanted to speak to her privately, not wanting to divulge their business in front of the two young mothers in the office.

“We need to speak to Ms Cranston,” he said. “What’s the best way of doing that, do you think? I guess we should get the principal’s permission first.”

“You’ll have a problem doing that,” said Mrs. McCall. “Neither one of them is here today.”

Drumm should have anticipated Lynnette’s absence, given the assault she had endured Friday evening, but he hadn’t thought to check with the school first. James Shaughnessy not being there was unexpected, however, although he supposed that a principal could be sick like anyone else. “So, who’s in charge then, Gail?”

“That would be Bill,” she said. “Do you want me to get him down here? I’ll do an all-call; I’m not sure where he is at the moment. And I do need him to talk to those three clowns out there.”

Drumm thought for a moment. “No, let’s not bother him. I think we’ll just go and visit Lynnette. Thanks for your help.” He turned, ready to leave the office.

“How about Jim? Do you want me to call him and let him know you were here?”

“No, don’t bother him. I presume he’s at home? We’ll just drop in and surprise him. An unannounced visit.”

Once again, Lynnette Cranston didn’t appear to be at her best when she opened her door to their knock. It had been a rough ten days for her, Drumm knew. She looked like she hadn’t slept much since they last saw her on Saturday morning. The scrape on her chin had scabbed over but it was still a most unappealing sight.

“Lynnette!” Lori Singh was shocked at her appearance. “You poor thing. How are you feeling?” Even as she said it, Lori knew it was an inane question. It was perfectly obvious how Lynnette was feeling.

Lynnette sighed heavily. “Not well. My head’s feeling a bit better and the scrapes have stopped stinging for the most part. But… it’s my nerves. I can’t seem to stop thinking about what happened. I’m fretting about every sudden noise, every creak and strange sound in this place.”

Drumm said, “Maybe we should have put an officer outside your building. Just in case your attacker came back.”

Lynnette shook her head. “Not necessary, Detective Drumm. I haven’t been outside since Friday night. And I wouldn’t answer any knocks on the door either. Give me another day or two and I’ll be back to normal, I hope. I plan on going back to school on Wednesday.” She gave a wan smile. “Or Thursday. Or Friday. Maybe Monday.”

Drumm asked, “Do you think you’re up to going outside with us to show us where you were attacked? You’ll be perfectly safe with us, believe me.”

Lynnette didn’t look convinced but she agreed to go with them. Drumm led the way out to the parking lot where her car was parked.

“Please take us through what happened Friday evening,” said Drumm. “Is that where you parked, for example?”

“Yes. I already told you, I haven’t been out at all. The car hasn’t been driven since then.”

“OK. So you parked there and got out of your vehicle. Then what? Your attacker came at you from where? Over there presumably?” Drumm pointed to a grassy area to the left of the car.

“That’s right. I didn’t see him, remember; I just sensed something to my left. And then he whacked me.”

Lori Singh said, “He was probably waiting behind that pine tree, don’t you think, Nick? He could wait there unseen for quite awhile.”

Drumm agreed. “I think it’s likely, yes, although we have no proof that he did. You didn’t find any cigarette butts or footprints.” He turned back to Lynnette. “I want you to try to visualize the person who was standing there, Lynnette. Whose face do you see? What’s your first thought?”

“Face? I already told you, I didn’t see his face.”

Drumm said patiently, “Sorry, I didn’t explain myself well. What I meant was, if you were told it was one of your colleagues from school who did this, which one was it? Whose face do you see?”

Lynnette looked blank for a few seconds and then her expression changed.

Drumm could see quite clearly that she had thought of someone. “Lynnette? Who?”

“Don.”

“Musjari? You could picture him attacking you?”

“I guess so, yes. As soon as you said that, I could see him waiting there and coming out to hit me. Isn’t that terrible? It probably wasn’t him at all!”

Lori said, “Maybe not, Lynnette, but it definitely shows the kind of reaction he produces. Sometimes there’s value in that.”

Drumm said, “Thank you for coming out here with us. Let’s get back to your apartment now and then we’ll leave you alone.”

The Miata didn’t sound quite right, Drumm thought. There was a vibration which he was not used to feeling. He made a mental note to book an appointment with his mechanic, hopefully later on today. In all honesty he didn’t look after it the way he should. He would get so wrapped up in his cases that he would forget to get the service done that it required.

Lori Singh was on her way to a court date where she would likely be called to testify in a rape trial. He was en route to the residence of Jim Shaughnessy. The principal lived in an upscale part of the city and Drumm was curious to see what kind of home he lived in.

It was a newer subdivision located on a small hill, just a rise of a hundred feet or so but this small knoll combined with large, pricey homes had earned the area the nickname, ‘Snob Hill’. Shaughnessy’s home was one of the smaller ones on his street but Drumm still estimated its worth at eight hundred thousand, more or less. Having visited the residences of many of Elmdale’s staff, Drumm was struck by the difference in living standards between the teachers and their principal. Of course the principal would be earning in excess of a hundred thousand a year, where many of his younger teachers would make about half that and be paying off student loans to boot. Shaughnessy’s home, second from the end, was set back from the street further than normal, and the front of the property was screened by numerous shrubs and trees which gave the house itself a lot of privacy.

Drumm parked the Miata on the shady driveway and walked around to a side entrance to the garage. This door had a small window and he peered in, shading his eyes as he did so. In the gloom he could just make out a silver Lexus, another door in the back wall, presumably leading to the interior and what appeared to be some garden tools hanging on the walls. The stone walkway continued to a gate where Drumm stopped and surveyed the backyard. It too was private, a tall cedar hedge enclosing lush grass and some tidy flower gardens. A shed, built to match the style of the house, completed the picture. Drumm retraced his path and stepped onto the front porch where he rang the doorbell.

Jim Shaughnessy opened the door, and looked surprised to see the detective standing on his porch. “Detective Drumm! I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“I need to speak to you, sir, and as you weren’t at school today, I came out here. May I come in?”

Shaughnessy hesitated, then apologized, “Sorry, Detective, forgetting my manners.” He opened the door wider and stood to one side to allow the detective access.

“No problem, Mr. Shaughnessy. I understand you’re not feeling well today,” said Drumm. Shaughnessy did in fact look pale and a bit fidgety, and even though it was a cool morning, he was sweating again. He was dressed casually, in jeans and an extra-large tee-shirt, the first time Drumm had seen him in anything informal. Drumm thought he should stick to a jacket and tie; his short stature and extra weight did not go well with baggy blue jeans. Shaughnessy led the way to the living room, furnished tastefully and with an eye for comfort. Everything in the room was expensive, or looked it; Drumm especially appreciated the huge flatscreen TV mounted on the wall.