Flashback (22 page)

As I drove I found thoughts coming at me from every angle. I was responding to the road at one level and at another I could see Fred. And on another plane I was thinking about the case and realized suddenly that the running shoes next to me were small, no more than an eight or nine. The man who had killed Waites had small hands. The fingerprint guy had been sure of that. Maybe it had been Jeffries.
 

I headed for the second entrance to the Harbour and drove straight to the Lodge. Mrs James was surprised to see me but she opened the door to Waites' room and left me there with Sam and the pair of running shoes. I shut the door and took out one of the shoes. I gave it to Sam to sniff and then told him, 'Track.'
 

He put his nose down and began to run around the room. He went into the bathroom and barked at the edge of the tub and then he ran to the bedside where the depression in the pillows still showed where a man had sat, and barked again. And finally he checked and went over to the fire-escape rope that lay coiled in the corner, anchored to a bolt in the window-frame and barked again.
 

I called him off and fussed him as if he were a puppy, rubbing his great head and telling him he was a good boy while he whined happily. 'You're a better cop than I am, Sam,' I whispered. 'You've told me who killed John Waites. Now all we have to do is find him.'
 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 12

 

 

I took Sam downstairs and checked under the window. The scent hadn't lasted as well in the open air but eventually he tracked around the blind side of the building and out to the parking lot. Jeffries must have driven away from that point.
 

Mrs James was still working and she told me that nobody of Jeffries' description had rented the room that she could remember, nor had she seen him visiting. She would check with her staff.
 

It was a downer but I got a similar response when I phoned the OPP with my news. Holland was off duty and I had to talk to another detective. He wasn't excited. He was working on a break-in at a local gas station. It was small potatoes but he had a good chance of solving it. He promised to put my message on the air. It might help, he said, without enthusiasm. Reminding me that we didn't know where the guy was or what he was driving.
 

That thought sent me back to Ms Tracy's house. She had known Waites and his wife and the story of their marriage, maybe she also know the Jeffries in person. It was a slim chance but I was grasping at straws by now.
 

She was away so I gave up and drove downtown to check on the Friday evening activities. It was warm and the air was full of a smalltown charm that made you think of summer nights long ago when there would have been women in long white dresses enjoying the evening air and the sound of a mandolin ringing across the water. That night there were only the usual teenagers with a radio playing something by Reba Mclntyre. I made my rounds of the properties, then drove home for supper.
 

I let Sam check around the place first and when he found nothing I went in and foraged. There wasn't a lot in the fridge but I made a sandwich and a pot of coffee and called the hospital. Fred was feeling good and we chatted while the coffee perked. She was excited about coming home and gave me a shopping list.
 

We said good night and I sat with my coffee, thinking about the case. There were four people who could tell us useful things. One of them would turn up soon, I hoped. The odds were good on Hanson. It was his ambition in life to be well known. He would show up somewhere. And Moira Waites would be back painting, trying to sell. Jeffries might be different. If he'd killed Waites he would be keeping his head down and might already have left the country.
 

That left Kershaw. I didn't know much about him beyond the facts of his arrest. He'd sworn to get even but that was talk. Now he was out he would put freedom above revenge, I figured. He could find work. As long as he didn't work for anybody who needed his Social Insurance Number for the payroll he could give himself a new identity and disappear.
 

But would he? I thought back to the arrest. He had been high on cocaine, his lawyer had insisted. Previously he had been of good character. I remember the smiles exchanged between the cops involved when his lawyer came up with that chestnut. But he had looked respectable enough, had come to court in a good suit and tie, looking more like a banker than the raving gunman I had been obliged to shoot. And his wife was a lawyer. What had driven him to holding up a bank? Cocaine was the easy answer but it didn't satisfy me.
 

On impulse I called my sister's house. She was in but Elmer was still working. He had a new shooting to investigate, some Vietnamese had shot down the owner of a restaurant in front of his customers that afternoon. She sighed at that and wondered what kind of city Toronto was turning into.
 

'World-class. Isn't that what the politicians keep boasting? Now you've got world-class crime to go along with the theatre and all the cultural stuff,' I suggested.
 

'I figure I'm too young to be pining for the old days, but I can't help it,' she said. 'Anyway, how's Fred and the baby?'

I told her they were coming home next day and she made approving noises and then Elmer came in. She put him on and he told me about the case. 'The witnesses swear the kid was no more than fifteen, sixteen. I'm telling you, Reid, it's the pits these days.'
 

'How about taking your mind off it for a minute or two?'

'You need some help,' he said. ' 'S long's I don't have to go out of that door again tonight, that's fine.'

'Just from memory, maybe. Remember this guy Kershaw, the bank robber on the lam from Joyceville?'

'Yeah, he's still out. What about him?'

'Well, he seems to be tied in to what's happening up here and I was trying to work out any connection. I know he held up a bank, shot the manager and took a hostage. I'm wondering why.'
 

'He was a cokehead, wasn't he?'

'Yeah, but he had a lot going for him. He was wealthy. He wasn't the kind of guy who would rob banks to support his habit. He would have pulled some white-collar scam, mortgaged the house, something.'
 

Elmer was quiet for a moment, then he said, 'Chuck Grady was in the detective office back then. I'll give him a call, see if he can remember anything.'
 

'That'd be good of you, Elmer. It would help if Chuck knew what Kershaw did for a living in those days, anything to give me a line on why he was robbing banks.'
 

'If I can get him tonight, I will; otherwise tomorrow morning, that be OK?'

'That'd be great. Hope it doesn't mess up your evening, what's left of it?'

'I don't have anything on. There's an AA meeting at nine but I'm too late now. I've started painting, ya'know. I never had a hobby in the old days and a lot of they guys say you need something to do, otherwise you start getting itchy without a drink.'
 

'That's not a problem any more, is it?'

'Been dry for three years by the grace of God,' he said 'But it helps take my mind off work. I'm just a dauber.'

'Then get daubing. And take care, OK?'

'You too,' he said and hung up.

As I was washing the dishes, the phone rang. It was Jean Horn. 'Hi, Reid, I wondered how Fred was, when she's coming home.'

I told her and she said, 'That's why I called. I was wondering if you'd like me to come over and smarten the place up before she gets back?'
 

'I've kept it pretty good, thanks, Jean.'

She laughed. 'I'm not talking about having the dishes washed. You need food and flowers. I'll bet you've got nothing in the fridge but a couple of cans of beer, am I right?'
 

'Well, I must admit, except for half a head of lettuce, yes. But Fred's given me a list.'

'You've got enough to do without going grocery shopping,' she said. 'How about I come by in the morning, around nine?'

'That would be very kind of you. I'll drop you off a key and some cash.'

'Good. Come by any time before ten and we'll be up.'

It was nine-fifteen so I drove over there right away. George and Phil Freund were outside under the porch light, filleting a couple of big bass. The kid was beside himself with excitement. 'Look at that, Chief,' he said. 'Three pounds. I caught him.'
 

'With a Fireplug, I bet.'

George laughed. 'You an' your plugs, Reid. I'm Indian, I don't use plugs.'

'Used a little frog,' Freund said happily. 'Caught the bait, then caught the fish. We're having it for breakfast.'

'Nice going,' I said. It was starting to look as if Eric Hanson had done this kid a favour when he brought him into the gang. 'I've come to see your mother, George.'
 

'Go on in. They're watching TV,' he said, still working with his knife. I tapped on the door and Jean called me in. She was in front of the television, knitting. The puppy was asleep by her feet. Her husband was across from her in his chair, head lolling as he dozed.
 

I gave her my spare housekey and some cash which she resisted at first, and then asked her about Freund. 'He's a good kid, Reid. I don't know why he did what he did yesterday.'
 

'His mother came up to see me today. She's been raising the boy on her own. His father's gone. She's not short of a buck, she's a lawyer, but there's been no man around to set the boy an example.'
 

'Him and George get on just fine,' she said. 'And he learns real well. He caught that bass out there.'

'His mother appreciates what you're doing,' I told her. 'And so do I.'

'Yeah. Well,' she said. 'You want some coffee?'

'No, thanks, I just had supper. I'm going to check around town again and then hit the sack, more coffee would keep me awake.'

She laughed. 'Better get all the sleep you can before Fred gets home with the baby. Then you'll know about losing sleep.'

'You're a big comfort. But thanks for the help. I know Fred will be grateful.'

I left, still worrying about the case. There was so much to do. Somebody should be canvassing every motel, every lodge and rooming-house for a hundred miles around, but the OPP didn't have enough men. The best they could do was a telephone cavass, missing half of the places for sure. We needed real manpower like I'd been part of in Toronto. There we could put a team of guys together to check everything, witnesses, past addresses, parking tickets, all the hundreds of tricks needed to come up with a lead. On my own I was like an ant trying to measure the pyramids.
 

I was glooming quietly when the break came, a phone call, switched to my radio. I took the mike. 'Murphy's Harbour Police.'

'Parry Sound OPP. Got something for you. A woman's been abducted from a motel on Sideline 12, the Bonanza.'

'I know it. When?'

"Bout five minutes ago. The owner says a man grabbed her and pulled her into a car.'

'On my way. Are your guys coming?'

'Yes. Be on the lookout for a small blue car. Driver around six feet, one-ninety, dark hair, That's all she had.'

'She?' If this was the missing woman's car the registration should have been on the check-in card.

'The owner. Says it looked expensive.'

'I wonder if it's the missing Mercedes?' I said. 'On my way.'

I hung up and hammered out along the side-road and back to the highway, heading south five miles to Sideline 12. It was too dark to check the colour of cars coming the other way. Maybe one of them was the car I wanted but I concentrated on getting to the Waterfall.
 

It was a middlebrow place, a long, low building set hopefully in a spot cleared of trees but otherwise devoid of attractions. A good place to go bankrupt.
 

A woman was standing in the middle of the lot, beside a suitcase which was lying as if it had just been dropped there. She ran towards me when she saw the flashing lights.
 

'Officer, he went that way.' She pointed back the way I had come. Nothing had passed me as I drove the side-road so I asked, 'What happened?'
 

'I was in the office and I saw a car parked out here. Then I saw a man running to it, carrying this.' She tapped the suitcase with her foot.
 

'Did he drop it and take off? What about the woman?'

'She ran after him, screaming. I couldn't make out what she was saying but she caught up with him and he dropped the case and hit her in the head.'
 

'Then what? Did you shout?'

Now she stopped, licking her lips nervously. 'Well, not exactly.'

'What did you do?'

'Well, I was robbed once, so I keep a shotgun under the counter. I pulled it out and fired it.'

I frowned inwardly. This isn't Dodge City, people don't use shotguns to keep the peace, but I was glad she had.

'Then what happened?'

'He just pulled her into the car.'

'Did he try to pick up his case?'

She cut the story to its bare bones. 'I shot again and he took off like a bat outa hell.'

She had broken the law but I wasn't going to cast the first stone. She might also have broken our case open.

'Did you see the licence? Any part of it, just one or two numbers?'

'He had his lights off, I couldn't see anything.'

'Did you recognize the woman?'

'It looked like Ms Baker from unit nine.'

'Let's look inside. Do you have a key?'

'Yes.' She pulled it out. 'What about this?' She nudged the suitcase.

'I'll put it back in the room. It figures he's stolen it from there.'

I picked it up with the flat of my hands. It was full and heavy but I managed and took it to the door of unit nine.

She tried the door. It was ajar. 'Don't touch it, please, and stay outside, if you would,' I told her and whistled for Sam. He was at my side in an instant and I shoved the door with the back of my hand and told him 'Seek'.