Depth of Deception (A Titanic Murder Mystery) (33 page)

"
England?
"
Natalie repeated. Were Edward and Myra already in England? Curiosity got the better of her as she snatched up the phone,
"
Hello?
"

"
Hi Natalie, it’s Jeff.
"

"
Jeff?
"
asked Natalie, not recognizing the voice in the receiver. Then it hit her, her colleague conducting that new blood test.
"
Oh, Jeff! Yes, of course.
"

"
I have your DNA results on your mystery woman.
"

"
Excellent! What can you tell me?
"

"
Um... Do you have a fax number?
"
Jeff asked.
"
I’ll need you to see this as I explain my findings.
"

"
Yes, I do.
"
Natalie looked over at the fax machine and read the number off to him.

"
Great, I’ll have to hang up to send it, but I’ll call you right back.
"

"
I can hardly wait,
"
remarked Natalie. She sat there staring at the fax machine. It was like waiting for the proverbial pot to boil. The thought that an exact visual duplicate of a page was instantaneously being sent across the seas was mind-boggling.

RING

The fax machine sprang to life. After a couple more rings the ‘machine’ answered, and she winced at the terrible screeching of the two machines as they connected. She watched as the paper began to inch out and curl down. She grabbed the page and looked at it quizzically, not quite understanding what she was looking at. Then she made the connection. She couldn’t believe it. She sat waiting for Jeff to call her back.

After ten minutes, she fished out her address book from her desk drawer and quickly looked up the number. She dialed.

She could hear the phone ringing but Jeff wasn’t answering. He did say he would call right back. She hung up.

RING

She answered the phone,
"
Natalie speaking.
"

Click.

Whoever it was hung up.

She looked again at the page that Jeff sent her. DNA was a new science but she had read a few articles on it. She wasn’t sure she was reading it correctly. If it was as she guessed, she had to tell Edward.

She grabbed Edward’s lawyer’s card from her Rolodex and punched in the numbers. After a few rings, the answer machine started up. As soon as she heard the beep,
"
Mr. Zisholm. This is Dr. Lindsay from the clinic. I have the DNA results from the blood work. I think Edward needs to see this… Can you get him to page me? Thanks.
"

. . .

Edward had searched the entire lake house. There was no sign of Myra. She wouldn’t have been crazy enough to go out in the snow, would she?

Throwing on his coat and winter accoutrements, Edward ventured out into the harsh winter. It was April but it was clear that Old Man Winter was refusing to leave. The icy wind howled through the snow-covered skeletal trees, making them sway and crackle, then it turned to attack him, nipping at the exposed skin on his cheeks. Protecting his face as best as he could, Edward lumbered through the deepening snow, ignoring the sudden chill of snow slipping into his boots as he trudged up the laneway to where it connected with the road.

He squinted as he stared through the fury of flurries, looking for any sign of movement or life. There was none. Not even a rabbit or deer to be seen. No animal was crazy enough to be out here in these harsh conditions, except him.

Edward was about to turn back when he noticed something on the road. Tracks. He moved closer to inspect. Snowmobile tracks. Considering how much snow was coming down, the tracks were fairly fresh.
Could Myra have gone with some stranger?
With the recent events in Glasgow still swirling in his mind, Edward couldn’t ignore any possibility. His gloved hand reached into his pocket and found the keys to the Jeep.

His fingers felt numb and ached as he tried to turn the key in the ignition. The engine started with a reluctant roar. Even the Jeep didn’t seem to want to move in this ungodly weather. Edward cranked up the heat and checked that it was still in 4X4. Then he started down the road after the tracks, before they were obliterated by the thick flakes.

_ _ _

Natalie couldn’t wait any longer for Edward or Jeff to call her back. She needed to get back to her apartment and pack. Natalie bundled herself up in her coat and scarf, grabbed her attaché case, and plodded to the subway station.

She shielded her face from the winds. Despite the sub-arctic-like temperatures, the subway appeared to be running. Lucky for her. She had heard on the news that the snow in some areas had stranded people at their workplaces. President Reagan had called the National Guard to help clear out selected roads.

The shelter of the stairwell to the subway gave a slight respite from the biting win
ter winds. As she descended
the stairs, a voice behind her said,
"
Dr. Lindsay?
"

"
Yes?
"
Natalie
was surprised at the sound of her name. She
turned and saw
a familiar face. She pulled down her scarf as she smiled.

She never saw the gun.

BLAM!

The bang echoed so loudly that the metal gates around her rattled. She felt the heat of the bullet tear into her. She saw her assailant reach out to her, as if to help but instead grabbed her attaché case as she began to fall backwards. She felt every sharp corner of the steps as she tumbled down to the bottom.

Battered, broken and lying in a pool of her own blood, she tried to move. Her gaze drifted up the stairs. Her attacker had gone with her papers, and as she struggled to breathe she wondered:
why?

Chapter
XLIV

De Kirkhaugh wanted to cross-reference the Gilcrest arsonist with other possible arson cases in the 1909 timeline, considering that Agatha Gilcrest’s solicitor had been killed in a fire that destroyed all of his papers. It put this boy as a prime suspect, and he might have continued his sizzling hobby over the years.
Boy?
De Kirkhaugh chuckled to himself. If the boy were still alive, he’d be an old man. A very old man.

Coming up to the desk of the ‘other morgue’, de Kirkhaugh looked about for Janna. The other records keeper, Collins, was atop a small stepladder fetching thick file folders from the top shelf.

"
Can I help you, sir?
"
Collins asked as he started to descend the ladder.

"
I was looking for Janna,
"
de Kirkhaugh replied.
"
Have you seen her today?
"

"
No, she didn’t come into work today. Left me short-handed. Is there something I can help you with?
"

"
No, that’s ok,
"
answered de Kirkhaugh. The fewer who knew about his ‘research’ the better. He started to walk away when he heard Collins mutter.

"
This is the first time she’s ever missed a shift.
"

"
What was that?
"
de Kirkhaugh said as he turned back to him.

"
Oh, nothing important… It’s just that I’ve never known Janna to miss a shift. Even if she’s not well, she still drags herself in here rather than deal with a pile up when she…
"

De Kirkhaugh wasn’t listening anymore. He had already turned and started down the hallway.

De Kirkhaugh dashed into his office and closed the door. He grabbed the files on the McLewlend murder and the arsonist. He knew what he had to do. He stared at his phone. Taking Callum Toughill’s business card out of his pocket, pressed ‘line 2’ to get a signal out, saw the light illuminate on ‘line 2’ as he pressed it. Then he dialed the phone number on the card. He got the answer service.

"
The next time you go after a century old murderer,
"
de Kirkhaugh yelled into the phone receiver.
"
Make sure you have all the facts!
"

He slammed down the phone. The light on ‘line 2’ stayed on for a second longer than it should have. Now he knew for certain, someone in the department had been listening in on all his calls.

. . .

Callum wasn’t sure what was going on with de Kirkhaugh. First he called his answering service and told the operator to give him an overseas number of someone in America and now this odd message about having all the facts? What more did he bleeding want? He was trying the best he could.

"
Didn’t I give you this message before?
"
asked the message operator.

"
No, this is my first time calling in today. Cheers!
"
Callum replied absent-mindedly as he hung up. He looked back at the priest’s kitchen table. There, spread out in neat piles all over it were
all the facts
that his grandfather had hidden all these years.
I didn’t have all the facts until now!
John Toughill had re-interviewed some witnesses like Ruthie’s grandfather and Heather Langlea. Even a comment from Ruthie:

"
I of’n saw a young man calling upon Miss Langlea when Miss Gilcrest wasn’t home. I think it was Miss Gilcrest’s nephew. Once they noticed me, and they made me promise not to tell Miss Gilcrest. They gave me chocolates. I hadn’t had chocolates before.
"

Callum knew that as an only child, Agatha Gilcrest did not have a nephew. He wished Ruthie were still alive. He would have liked to talk to her about this arsonist named Gilcrest that de Kirkhaugh had told him about. The two might be one and the same.

He needed a break to gather his thoughts. Callum looked at his watch, calculated the time in New York and rang up the number. While the phone was ringing he surveyed his grandfather’s work.

One pile held a photo taken at the Otto Slade trial in 1910; it was of Heather Lan
glea wearing a big flowered hat
. Even in black and white there was something… odd about her eyes. Yes, there was a look of malevolence in them, but there was something else. Callum had the nagging feeling he had seen this face before, but that was quite impossible. There were no photos of Heather Langlea in Percy’s files. He tried to think, but the more he tried the more frustrated he became…

click

Callum paused as he heard the ringing stop in the receiver
. H
e was about to say ‘hello’, when a recording of an articulate man started to speak:
"
You have reached Edward Hoffman. I’m sorry to have missed your call…
"

Callum hung up. It was good of de Kirkhaugh to get him this number. He would ring him up again later.

He looked again at the photo. Why wasn’t he able to find anything further in regards to Heather Langlea’s life? His grandfather had the same difficulties. In his notes, John Toughill had written:
No trace of Heather Langlea after boarding the Titanic.

_ _ _

De Kirkhaugh had tried ringing up Janna’s phone number several times but there was no answer. He even tried to get Detective Sergeant Milton to meet him at Janna’s flat, but Milton had gone back out, following a lead on the missing
Loraine
Kramer case.

Out of sheer panic he needed to find out for sure if she was all right. Without ‘just cause’, he couldn’t simply ring up ‘999’ for emergency. Though it didn’t stop him from running every red light on the way over to her flat. Thankfully, as a Detective Chief Inspector, personnel didn’t question anything when asked for home address information.

As he neared the front door of Janna’s flat, which was situated over a Chinese restaurant, de Kirkhaugh had a mixed feeling of untamed fear and the embarrassing thought that perhaps Janna decided to play hooky and he was about to find himself in an awkward situation.

After wrestling with his thoughts, he opted to find out once and for all. If she answered the door, he would make up some excuse for being overly protective. As the old adage:
Better to be safe, than sorry.

He looked about for a doorbell, but it was obviously busted. His hand reached out and rapped the door. It creaked open from the slight impact of his first knock. This was not boding well. He cocked his head and listened for any sound of the telly or any other movement. Silence.

He was about to call out her name, when his paranoia crept back.
What if she is in d
anger? What if some assailant i
s still in there?
He withdrew his gun for added protection, and he was grateful that as a senior officer he was allowed to carry firearms.