Misery Bay: A Mystery (17 page)

“No. I won’t make you go back there,” he said. “It won’t be easy, but I’ll work something out.”

Sarah smiled. “She can stay here as long as she likes.”

Lila beamed for the first time. She hugged Sarah tight. “I’ll be good. I promise! I never want to go back to the city again. Maybe …” she straightened up and wiped tears away from her eyes. “Maybe I can get to see Ayesha somehow. Check on how she is.”

Garrett met Sarah’s eyes with a questioning look. He wondered if she knew how big a chew she had bitten off.

26

H
ALIFAX WAS ENJOYING A RARE
sunny day, the kind that brought hordes of young people out onto Barrington Street. The grassy slopes of the Citadel were covered with scantily clad bodies and tourists strolled through the Public Gardens, stopping to feed the ducks or take pictures in front of the small model of the
Titanic
anchored in the pond.

Garrett strolled along the dirt pathways of the gardens and sat on a bench, half of which was taken by an elderly woman holding a bag of peanuts and dozing. The park was a frequent location for weddings and he watched as a Japanese couple stood on top of a metal platform backed by flowers while friends took their picture.

He was still feeling relieved that Lonnie had managed to find the girls in time. Big Margaret wasn’t scared of much other than the loss of her moneymaking girls. But Lonnie was more than even she cared to bargain with.

Now he just needed to find some way to convince Sheila Vogler to free Lila from Lloyd’s gentle control permanently. Sheila had a big heart but was also a stickler for the rules. Garrett had been surprised when she’d agreed to release Lila to his custody in the first place.

Still, there was a lot going on here. Maybe Lloyd and Madame Liu were only part of the story. Garrett felt like he had his hand on a small corner of something and that if he tugged long enough and hard enough, something big and mean and nasty might just pop out. Maybe another visit to Big Margaret would pay dividends.

The married couple was moving on, still celebrating and surrounded by their friends but in that uniquely quiet, respectful, and low-key manner the Japanese have. They would never want to disturb others in the park.

Garrett walked through the large old graveyard in the center of the city and continued on until he reached Dalhousie Medical School, where a longtime friend, a prosthetics specialist named Marcia Chisholm, did occasional work on his foot.

She looked up from her desk and gave him an appraising gaze. In her mid-forties, she remained very pert and attractive despite having three children under the age of ten. She’d been a late bloomer in that department.

“Hi Marcia. How’s that stuff about growing new body parts from stem cells coming along?”

“Not next week, but it’s coming, Garrett. In my professional opinion, you will be buried with two feet wholly your own.”

“Be nice if it happens before I’m on my deathbed.” He sat in a chair beside her desk and began to unstrap his foot. “I had a little accident. The thing sat in salt water for several hours. Thought you might be able to give me a tune-up.”

“I believe not putting it in salt water is on page one of the instruction manual you were issued when we first fitted you out.” She gave him a look. “Someone push you off a pier?”

He finished taking the foot off and handed it to her. She put it on the table in front of her and began a series of diagnostic tests using some serious electronics.

“Doesn’t look too bad,” she said.

“I attempted to dry it out in front of a heater,” he offered helpfully.

“We don’t generally recommend home recipes for twenty-thousand-dollar feet,” she reprimanded. “Still,” she added grudgingly, “I think it must have helped.” She replaced the battery, tinkered a bit, and handed it back to him. “Good for three thousand miles or twenty thousand leagues, whichever comes first.”

“Thanks. I’ll try to keep the leagues to a minimum.” He strapped the foot back in place, stood up and flexed it, walked around the room. “Better.”

She shrugged. “Didn’t do much. See if you can keep from stepping in a vat of hot wax on your next assignment, okay?”

“You’d be surprised the things we Mounties have to do out there in the field.”

He kissed her on the cheek and walked jauntily to his car.

Next stop was to see Tuttle. On the way in he ran into Alvin, his former partner who’d been with him during the Point Pleasant stakeout.

“Been missing you,” Alvin said.

“I heard you’d moved up. Assigned to that joint commission on illegal substances,” said Garrett.

“Well, when you left I had no one to mentor me,” he replied with a smile. “You know, steer me clear of the horrors of drug enforcement, keep me in something clean like prostitution. How am I going to learn how to steal a limo and leap onto boats in the dark when you’re not around setting an example?”

“Good point,” Garrett said. “Though the two areas aren’t generally mutually exclusive.”

“Tell me about it. It’s all intertwined. Maybe we’ll work together again. You never know.”

They shook hands and Garrett watched him saunter to his car. He was still that wiry little guy, walking with a bit of a swagger. It must have been hard to be little and a cop at the same time.

Tuttle had his jacket off, sleeves rolled up. He was banging on the air conditioner, which had been his favorite office sport as long as Garrett had known him.

“Why don’t you keek heem?” Garrett said.

“You keek heem! Do I look like a bloody Heemer? You’re the one with the bionic foot.” The Deputy Commissioner looked disgusted and fell into his chair. His forehead was damp with perspiration.

“Heard about your little escapade,” he said. “Still think plastic boats are the way to go?”

“To be honest, no. Not unless the department wants to buy me my own GPS … and a small destroyer to attach it to.”

“I’ll be sure to put that requisition in next year’s budget. You might want to get a weather band radio while you’re at it. What a cockamamie scheme. Maybe you
should
retire. Sounds like most of your brain cells have taken a vacation anyway.” Tuttle stared at him. “Did you learn anything at all?”

Garrett sat down and took a long breath. “About all I can say for certain is that there seem to be a lot of people doing suspicious things.” He proceeded to fill Tuttle in on Lloyd, Madam Liu, Big Margaret, and even the strange accommodations on the oil rig. When he was finished, the Deputy Commissioner stared at him for a while.

“Big Margaret we know about,” he said finally. “And Madame Liu, to a lesser extent. High-end escort services. Probably the two of them are in competition, though there seems to be enough business to go around.”

“Madame Liu’s got some sort of mansion on Lake Micmac,” Garrett said. “It might be a good idea to do a raid. See what you find. Underage girls for certain.”

Tuttle leaned forward and made a note on a pad. “We’ll look into it,” he said.

“Not right away,” said Garrett. “I’ll let you know. I don’t want to scare anyone off for a while. Lloyd’s in this and I’d like to shut him down. An exhibitionist in charge of a bunch of cowed teenagers is not the best business model. But …”

“What?”

“This whole thing smells of some sort of major prostitution ring. We might have a chance to shut down one of the big corridors of girls coming into Halifax and Canada in general. But I need more time.”

Tuttle grunted. “Take all the time you need, but you might consider that I’m in the running for Commissioner. You break this soon and it just might help my chances.”

“That certainly sounds like a good deal for me all right,” Garrett said.

“Just keep moving ahead. I’ll get you any assistance you need when you need it.” With that he swiveled around and began to go through the pile of reports on his desk. Garrett was dismissed.

As he went out the main entrance, Kitty Wells came up to greet him. She had on a green leather jacket, tight leather miniskirt, and black nylons. She smiled broadly and put her hand through his arm. Every time she did that, Garrett thought, it meant she wanted something.

“How’d you get along with Lloyd?” he asked.

She made a face. “The man’s a creep. How someone like that got put in charge of children is beyond me. Might be a whole exposé for my paper right there.”

Garrett’s surprise showed. He hadn’t really thought highly enough of her to think she could see through Lloyd. Maybe there was more to Miss Wells than met the eye.

“To tell you the truth, I was a little worried about leaving you alone with the man. He’s been keeping bad company lately, and you should be very careful around him. He doesn’t have any scruples and from the way he looks at you, I think he’d have even fewer if he got you alone.”

She smiled up at him and squeezed her perfect little body tightly against him. “I believe that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Garrett.”

He carefully removed her arm from his own. “Just be careful, okay? And while we’re on the subject, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t latch on to me … especially when Sarah’s around.”

She pouted a perfect little pout. Garrett figured she must practice the look in the mirror. It made her so adorable.

“Oh, you’re no fun, Garrett.” Then she was immediately all business. “So what exactly is our Lloyd up to?”

“I’m not sure.” He considered her. He made a practice of not telling reporters anything. Still, he didn’t want her to get in trouble. He decided to give a little in order to make her see the risk of what she was doing. “Listen, this is off the record, understand?”

The pout reappeared, but she was a reporter and would take whatever she could get. “All right,” she agreed.

“He’s connected somehow with an escort service in Halifax. And the man’s an exhibitionist. Exposes himself to the girls at Ecum Secum. That alone would be enough to bring him down and close his ‘Troubled Youth Haven,’ provided any of his charges were willing to testify against him.”

“Do you think he could have anything to do with the girls who have been killed?”

He shrugged. “Anything’s possible.”

“I appreciate the heads-up, Garrett, I really do. I’m going to visit Lloyd this afternoon. I’ll poke around, see what I can find out.” She raised a hand at his expression. “Don’t worry. I take your warning to heart. I won’t be alone with him.”

“Be certain of that,” said Garrett. “I’m not joking, Kitty. He’s a world-class manipulator. If there’s a way to get you off alone with him somewhere …”

She slipped her arm back into his. “I’m pretty good at dealing with men, Garrett,” she said sweetly.

“Men … yes. But Lloyd’s some kind of animal. Don’t underestimate him.”

27

S
ARAH ARRANGED TO HAVE DINNER
with Garrett and the two women who lived next door to Roland. Ingrid’s husband was away.

“They want to thank you for getting that compressor turned off, and I think you’ll like them, Gar. Besides, Ingrid is a great cook.”

Garrett arrived about six in the evening, sinking down into the seat of his car as he passed the Cribby household. He’d almost never seen Roland or Rose outside or even at a window. They appeared to hunker down in the back of the house in their respective warrens and never expected visitors. Still, he thought it would be the better part of diplomacy if Roland didn’t see him fraternizing with the neighbors. That would simply add fuel to the fire.

Sarah was waiting for him by the wharf, and they went in together. They were greeted warmly, both women insisting on hugging Garrett and thanking him profusely for his efforts on their behalf. As they were led into the sunken living room for the mandatory Manhattans, Garrett was surprised to see his neighbor Keith sitting in a comfortable chair in front of a low table filled with papers and maps. On the edge of the table was a frosted glass that Garrett knew held Pepsi. Keith never drank alcohol. There was no time for it. He took the business of recording the history of the Eastern shore seriously.

Ingrid thrust a Manhattan at Garrett and offered a toast.

“To our whale slayer,” she said. “We are forever in your debt and shall sing your praises each night at bedtime for all eternity.”

“Wow,” said Garrett. “Things must have been getting pretty tense around here.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” said Grace.

“I don’t get it,” he said. “Why am I a whale slayer?”

“It’s what we call Roland,” said Ingrid. “Because he’s such a whale of a liar.”

Garrett nodded his understanding. “I might call what he does embellishment, but it’s a small point.”

“Embellishment,” Ingrid said. “There’s a quaint notion. Back before he stopped talking to us altogether, he told me how he used to water-ski around the islands when he was a kid. Said he came around a point once at full speed and there was some sort of catamaran bearing straight down on him, so he bounced off a wave and flew over it. That’s one. Want to hear another?”

Garrett laughed and held up his hands. “God, no. I’ve heard stories like that since I was twelve years old. For the record, Roland has never water-skied in his life. I was just trying to be diplomatic.” He stared at the mass of papers on the table. “What on earth are you up to, Keith?”

“Our hosts asked me about property lines, so I brought along some tax maps and aerial surveys of the cove.”

“You’re looking to buy
more
property?” Sarah said to Ingrid. “I thought you might be selling out and looking for a new neighbor.”

She shrugged. “We like it here, despite the whale. But I thought it might be wise to know precisely where the boundaries are between Roland’s land and ours. He was furious when we dug the drainage ditch. Said it was on his property, but we had a survey done to prove it wasn’t.”

“Roland spent a lot of time on surveys of the bogs,” said Keith, “back when he was planning his boglands country club. He knows the area inside out. But he was wrong about the location of the drainage ditch.”

“I always thought the bogs were crown land,” said Garrett.