“Excuse me, Doctor,” the nurse said as she stood in the doorway. “The police are here to talk with you.”
“Huh?” he said, looking up from a file. “Oh yes, of course. Please come in. I’m Dr. Phillips.” He stood up and offered his hand. “You’re here about the girl who was raped, yes?’”
“That’s right,” I said, shaking his hand. He had a firm grip. “My name is Robichaud and this is my partner, Detective Duncan. By the way, we’ve identified the girl. Her name is Stella Marchand.”
“Very good. Thank you.” He flipped through several files and picked up one. He took out his pen and wrote the name on the cover.
“How’s she doin’?” Pete asked. “Is she awake?”
“Not yet,” Phillips said, gesturing us to the two chairs in the room as he sat back down. “She’s still unconscious which is not unusual in such cases where the body endured such a brutal attack.”
“Is there anything you can tell us that might help us find the men who did this?” I asked.
“I’m not sure what more I can tell you beyond what you already know at this time. We’re still running a series of blood tests to check for any sign of disease. There is also a risk of pregnancy, but we won’t know that for a bit longer. Oh, she was still a virgin when she was attacked.”
“What about the other injuries?”
“You mean to her...”
“Yeah, and the beatin’.” Pete said, interrupting the doctor. I detected the anger in his voice again.
“As to the assault, there was tearing around the membrane and superficial damage, but we’ve treated that and in time she will be just fine. Her injuries from the beating were not as serious as the emergency department first thought so she will recover from those as well...in time. My greatest concern will be the damage done to her emotionally; unfortunately, that is out of my area of expertise. Has her family been notified yet? We need to talk with them as soon as possible to get her medical background information.”
“There is only her mother, although we haven’t told her yet. We needed to make certain we were dealin’ with the right girl. I have a picture of her daughter with me an’ if it’s okay with you I’d like to take a look the girl an’ confirm it’s her.”
“Certainly,” Phillips said, standing up. “Follow me. I’ll take you to her room.”
We stood and followed him out of his office. The girl’s room was three doors down the hall.
Inside there were four beds separated by sliding curtains hanging from metal tracks in the ceiling. Stella was in bed three beside a window.
Dr. Phillips slid the curtain back and we saw her for the first time.
She was asleep. The bright light of the day lit up her face. There were tubes stuck in her arm and nose, several ugly looking bruises marred her face where she had been punched. I took out the picture and held it up to her face.
“Yeah, that’s her,” I heard Pete say from beside me. I put the photograph back in my pocket.
“Thanks Doc. It’s her,” I said.
We returned to the hallway outside her room.
“Keep us updated if anything changes,” I said to him.
“Certainly. Will you be contacting the mother now?”
“Uh-huh. Later today.”
“Would you be good enough to have her get in touch with me as soon as possible? It will help us treat her.”
“Right,” I said. “Her mother’s name is Irene Marchand. The daughter’s name is Stella.” We said goodbye and left.
As we walked down the corridor, I asked Pete what he found out from the lab.
“Not much. They managed to get a coupla sets of boot prints and tire tracks. Nothin’ special popped out. The boots or shoes were the type commonly used. Same with the tires, although they think they’re from a larger car, like a sedan. They’re still workin’ on the underwear. They did lift some prints off the bottles. They’re sendin’ us a copy of them. Should be at the station by the time we get back.”
“Okay,” I said. “Sounds like what I more or less expected.”
We continued on out of the building. Once we were in the parking lot, I put my hand on Pete’s arm before he headed to his car.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Yeah. Why?” he said, looking a bit surprised.
“Well to be honest, I’m a bit worried you’re takin’ this case too personally.”
“Whaddya mean?”
“I know you’re angry, Pete. So, am I, but we gotta stay in control, understand?”
“You got nothin’ to worry ‘bout with me.”
“Okay,” I said after a moment. “Jus’ try an’ keep that anger under control. I picked up on it a coupla times so far, an’ I need you at your usual best on this.”
Pete looked at me for several moments then lowered his head.
“Yeah, I hear ya, Robie. Sorry,” he said. “It’s jus’ this is my first...”
“I know,” I said. “You head back to the station. I’m headin’ up to see the girl’s mother.”
“Jesus. Sure you don’t want me to come along?”
“No, that’s okay, thanks. I’ll bring her down here to the hospital then come back to the station. You go through the file, see if you can put together a description of the two men from what the girls told us. By the way, don’t make any plans for tonight.”
“Fort Needham?”
“Fort Needham,” I said then headed for the car. I was satisfied Pete would manage his anger and focus on the job. He was a good man and I would’ve hated to bench him on this case.
I returned to the Marchand residence twenty minutes later. As expected, Mrs. Marchand fell to pieces at the news. I managed to settle her down and offered to take her to the hospital. She collected a few things from her daughter’s room including a stuffed doll. When she caught me looking at it, she said it was Stella’s favorite thing and she wanted it to be the first thing she’d see when she woke up. Funny the things we attach ourselves to in order to give us comfort, I thought, as I escorted her to the car. It was a quiet and somber drive which was fine with me. There really wasn’t much I could say anyway.
I led her into the hospital and up to the fifth floor where I left her with Dr. Phillips, then headed back to the station. Luckily, I found a note on my desk to call Professor Wilson. I was feeling pretty crappy at this point and was happy to make the call because I needed something to take my mind off the Marchand girl for the moment. However, before I could call him, Pete came over and passed me a couple of sheets of paper with sets of fingerprints on them.
“I’ve started checkin’ our records but nothin’ so far,” he said, sitting down in front of my desk. “How’d it go?”
“Like you’d expect,” I said. “I think she’ll be fine. I got the impression she’s a good mother an’ will deal with everythin’ as such.”
He nodded.
“I think I’ll call Phil Mulroney, see if he can get the Mounties to check these out,” I said, indicating the sheets with the prints. “We know one set is from a sailor.” I laid the sheets on the desk.
“Okay.” He got up and went back to his desk. “Good idea.”
I reached for my phone and dialled the number on the note.
“Professor Wilson speaking,” Frank Wilson said when he picked up.
“Detective Robichaud here,” I said. “You called?”
“Ah, yes. I have news for you on that matter concerning the valve.”
“That was quick.”
“Yes, actually, it was. But as it turned out, the first tests we ran found the problem right off. It was as your source thought; the metallurgy. The problem is in metal compounds used. Without getting too technical it had to do with improper heating and fusing; and a failure in the inspection process. I recommend you trace the company that supplied the valve through the serial number and model numbers on the valve, some of which are still visible. The shipyard purchasing department should be able to provide you with information. The supplier shoul
d know where the metalwork was done.”
“You’re certain of this?”
“I’m afraid so, detective. The findings were conclusive.”
“I see. Thanks. Will it be possible to get a copy of your findings and the parts back?”
“Absolutely,” Wilson said. “I hope you are successful in putting an end to this manufacturer putting these faulty pieces into our ships. As I said at our last meeting, I have a grandson serving on one of our ships in the engine room.”
“Count on it,” I said. “I’ll send a uniformed officer to your office for the pickup, and thanks again for the help.”
“Glad to be of help. Good day,” Wilson said, then hung up.
I set the phone back on its cradle and sat back. Finally, some good news to distract my thoughts away from the Marchand girl, at least for a while. I had a knot in my gut eating away at me since the call first came in. Unlike my friend sitting at his desk, I tend to keep everything inside but now I had something I could unload it on.
I picked up the phone again and dialled the duty officer out front. When he answered, I instructed him to send a car up to Wilson’s office for the report and valve pieces and to bring them back to me.
My next call was to the shipyard and Mr. Trudeau’s secretary, Miss Mable Kendrick. I asked her for the name of the person in charge of purchasing. She said it was Mr. Alfred Aikens and, after putting me on hold for a moment, had me connected to his direct line. I spoke with him only long enough to make an appointment to meet with him later today after I got the parts back from Professor Wilson’s office.
After I hung up, I sat thinking about how I was going to deal with this business. It wasn’t strictly a police matter even though the accident had caused a death. In fact, I wasn’t even sure who would deal with it. Then an idea came to me: material procurements were controlled by the government so I figured it would fall to them in the end. I reached for the phone again and dialled.
“Inspector Mulroney’s office,” a young sounding female voice said into my ear.
“Mornin’,” I said. “This is Detective Robichaud at the Halifax...”
“Yes sir, I know who you are,” she said in a friendly tone.
“You do?”
“Yes sir. Your name is well known around here. How can I help you?”
“Hmm. Is Phil, er, Inspector Mulroney in?”
“Yes sir. One moment, please.” The line went dead for a few seconds then Phil was on the line.
“Robie,” he said. “What’s up?”
“First,” I said, “Inspector?”
“Yeah. Came through a week ago.”
“That’s great, Phil. Congratulations. You shudda called me an’ let me know. Would’ve taken you to dinner or somethin’.”
“Thanks, and sorry for not calling, but I didn’t really have any time. I was away in Saint John, New Brunswick on a case when it came in.”
“That’s okay. We got time later.”
“You’re on. So, what’s up?”
I gave him a quick rundown on the accident and what I had found out so far.
“You were right in thinking this would be a matter for the government to deal with which, of course, means my unit. Look, you got some time to meet up, say tomorrow? I’m up to my armpits in something right now but should be able to shake a few hours loose tomorrow afternoon, say three o’clock?”
“Yeah, okay, it’ll give me time to follow up on a coupla things. See ya then.”
“Right,” he said, then hung up.
Chapter Five
Pete was sitting at his desk going through several files. He got up and went to the coffee urn and poured out two mugs then came over and sat down in front of my desk.
“Where we at with the report an’ meetin’ with the patrolman?” I asked, looking up and accepting the offered mug of coffee.
“The report’ll be here after lunch. Patrolman Rafuse will be here at three. How ‘bout you? Got sumthin’ on that accident?” he asked.
“Maybe,” I said, “The professor called. Said he found the problem was with the metal used in the forgin’ of the part. He’s sendin’ his report an’ the parts back.”
“That in our jurisdiction?”
“Not sure. I hafta run it by Morrison,” I said, shaking my head.
“So, it’s sabotage, then?”
I shook my head again.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Why not? Sounds like it to me.”
“It isn’t significant enough, I mean, think about it. The damage that was done wasn’t much more than a nuisance, except for the men affected by it. I got a feelin’ it’s soumethin’ else but can’t put a finger on what exactly.”
“If there’s sumthin’ there you’ll get to it,” he said. “You usually do.”
A uniformed officer entered the squad room carrying a box.
“From the college?” I asked, looking at him.
“Yes sir,” he said, stepping up to my desk and setting it down.
“Thanks.”
I untied the cord that held it closed and looked inside. There was an envelope which I assumed held the report, and the mangled pieces of metal along with the remains of the release valve that was still intact. I tried to imagine the thing exploding and shivered involuntarily at the idea of those pieces flying into the dead workman.
Pete leaned forward and looked inside the box.
“That the valve?” Pete asked.
“Uh-huh,” I said.
“Jesus. And you say one of the workman was right next to it when it blew?”
“Yeah. The one that was killed,” I said, putting the box on the floor beside the desk. I opened the envelope and extracted the two pages inside. I took a quick scan of the report.
In a nutshell, Professor Wilson repeated what he had already told me. The part showed signs that inferior metals were used in the forging, resulting in its inability to sustain and regulate the pressure of the steam. He also pointed out that this should have been spotted right away; even a cursory inspection would have suggested something was wrong. He concluded that, in his considered option, this was a deliberate act.
He also included two sets of numbers, one a partial serial number, the other another partial number, indicating the model. I folded the pages and put them back into the envelope.
“What’s your next move?”
“I got an appointment set up with the purchasing manager at the shipyard for later today. Maybe he’ll be able to identify the supplier. I see you got the file on the liquor case out,” I said, indicating his desk.
“Yeah. Thought I’d work on it while we wait on new developments on the Marchand business,” he said.
“Okay, so, where you at?” Pete gave me a quick update.
“You remember the boss puttin’ us on that business with the bad booze comin’ into the city lately? Well, looks like we’re gettin’ close to figurin’ out how the hooch is makin’ its way into the city and maybe even trace a direct tie-in to that bunch in Terrence Bay.”
“Yeah? That’s good. It’d be good if we can shut down this traffic.”
We’d had some success over the past year in shutting down a number of these illegal liquor operations but there had been new ones popping up outside the city and out of our reach. The only thing we could do was to crack down on the distribution end. Added to this, there had been about a dozen cases of people checking into the hospital with serious cases of alcohol poisoning, with at least three resulting in permanent damage to the drinker.
We had been working with the Mounties on this problem, mostly because they had jurisdiction outside the city. However, most of their resources were committed to security matters surrounding the port and the convoys, particularly now since they’d been stepped up. We knew of two instances where German agents had been exposed since the outbreak of the war. Pete and I were involved in both cases.
“No kiddin’,” Pete said. “I really hate people who want to make money from the misery t
his war is causin’. If it was up ta me the bastards would be stuffed into a uniform an’ sent straight to the front lines...without any trainin’.”
“Yeah,” I said, sympathizing with my friend. “Let’s jus’ try an’ nail them then bury them in a prison.”
“Yeah, that’d work too,” Pete said.
“Good. Now fill me in on what you got before I have a talk with the boss.”
“Okay,” Pete said. He got up and went to his desk, picked up a file and came back. We spent the next ten minutes going over the material he had collected so far.
“I think we should start hittin’ some of these places now,” he said when I laid the last sheet of paper down. “Maybe we’ll get lucky an’ roll somebody over.”
“Yeah, I agree,” I said. “I think we should put a few teams together an’ pull a few raids.”
“Sounds good. Who ya got in mind?”
“Hmm, let’s see. How ‘bout Will Lennox and Brian Joudry?”
“Yeah...they’d work jus’ fine,” Pete said, chuckling.
“What’s so funny?”
“You couldn’t’ve picked two tougher SOBs. I was picturin’ them bracin’ the muscle workin’ for the boozers.”
“It’d be interestin’ to watch,” I said. “Okay. I’ll take a run upstairs an’ let the boss know what we’re about. You call the men an’ have them report here tomorrow mornin’. Don’t forget to let the duty sergeant know.”
I stood up and headed for the stairs leading up to Lt. Morrison’s office. I returned to my desk fifteen minutes later and saw a note from the duty officer. It said Phil Mulroney had called and wanted me to call him.
As I picked up the phone and started to dial, Pete said that Joudry and Lennox would be here at eight tomorrow morning.
“Inspector Mulroney,” Phil said when he answered.
“Phil. Robie,” I said.
“I got that information you asked for,” he said, without any preamble. “Looks like you just might’ve stumbled onto something. According to our records there have been a total of eleven reported incidents involving defective parts, and yes, before you ask, these parts were all for use in ship’s engine rooms.”
The Evil Men Do Page 6