The Evil Men Do

Home > Other > The Evil Men Do > Page 8
The Evil Men Do Page 8

by H. Paul Doucette


  Sinclair nodded. “I understand that Michael, but I still think we should be careful, especially if they do open an investigation. Maybe we should ease up on...”

  “Perhaps you’re right,” McPherson said, putting the paper down on the small table between the chairs. “Don’t worry so much. Even if they do open an investigation, our records will show we’ve practiced due diligence in our procedures. Where do we stand at the moment, by the way?”

  “At last check, about twenty-two thousand,” Sinclair said, knowing exactly what his partner was referring to.

  McPherson nodded and said, “Not bad, not bad at all.”

  “Even so,” Sinclair said. “It wouldn’t be a good idea to have the authorities taking too close a look at our books.”

  “I agree, but this is too good an opportunity to let it pass. Besides, if they do take a look, we have it set up to steer any inquiry into several other avenues.”

  “I know all that, it’s just that if we are found out...”

  McPherson picked up the decanter and leaned forward. “Have a drink before we go... and stop worrying.”

  Sinclair held his glass out to MacPherson but still felt uneasy.

  “Easy to say.”

  “Look. You want us to stop?”

  “Well, no, but...”

  “If the worst happens, we can always say we have no control over the assembly of the parts. After all, that part is subcontracted out so we can divert any questions in that direction.”

  “Yes, I suppose so,” Sinclair said, sitting back.

  “That’s right. We are only the sellers, not the manufacturers. Now let’s finish our drinks and head down for dinner. I heard the kitchen managed to procure some fresh halibut.”

  “Sounds good,” Sinclair said, finishing his whiskey and standing up.

  “This war is a damn bother,” McPherson added, setting his empty glass down. “It’s getting damn near impossible to have a decent meal lately. Thank God we still have this club.”

  Chapter Six

  The next morning Pete informed me that he would have to postpone the raids for a day. Apparently, Brian Joudry had a problem at home and couldn’t come in that day. I said that was fine; one more day wouldn’t make any difference.

  We took the opportunity to go over what we had on the rape case which wasn’t all that much. When we finished, I had Pete run down the information on the car the sailors told us about, while I went through the report written by the detectives who arrived on the scene. I decided from the start to take over the case since they were tied up on another case.

  I went through their report but there wasn’t much to shed any more light on the matter. Most of what they had matched with what Pete and I already collected. I closed the file just as Pete came to my desk and sat down.

  “I jus’ got off the phone with motor vehicle registry,” he said, looking down at his notepad. “Looks like they have forty-six cars matchin’ the description of a 1929 or 30 black two door Ford Model A with the numbers 24 on the plate, registered to an owner with the first or second name of Charles.”

  “That was quick,” I said, sitting back.

  “Yeah, that’s what I said. Seems there were a lot more but only forty-six were owned by a guy name a Charles with a plate with the number 24 on it. I asked them to narrow the list down by age of the owners. Our guy is, what did the girls say, early twenties, right? So, they should be able to pare it down. They can’t all be in that age range.”

  “Good thinkin’. They say how long before they can get the information?”

  By end of the day, maybe; tomorrow at the latest.”

  “Good. Now, the raids? How’re you comin’ along with the set up?”

  “I’ve got enough men to make up three squads with two men each plus us. I’ll take one, Joudrey and Lennox the other two. I planned for us to take off at ten before their trade picks up.”

  He was lucky to get six men because of the manpower shortages we were operating under.

  “Good,” I said. “So, tomorrow at ten.”

  “Okay,” Pete said. “Besides, the sooner we get it done the sooner we can get the men back on the street.”

  “Good idea,” I said. “Better to avoid any confrontations from the civvies. How’re you settin’ up?”

  “I figure we hit the three biggest operations separately. I’ll take one team and get Lennox an’ Joudry to take the others.”

  “Good idea. When you hit these places remember, we want to confiscate the booze an’ arrest the people runnin’ the joints. So, make sure you have enough trucks with you. I’ll get the boss to arrange for some MPs an’ shore patrolmen to tag along in case you run into trouble from any servicemen. What places have you picked?”

  He gave me the three addresses he’d targeted. I knew all of them as among the larger bootleg outlets operating in the city. I also knew at least one had a reputation for being a rough house. We had been called there quite a few times recently to deal with brawls and other altercations. It would be good to shut these places down even though the backlash from the people who went there for their booze might be a problem, especially the servicemen and merchantmen.

  “That’d be a good idea,” he said.

  “Keep me updated. Meantime, I think I’ll go over that list of suppliers the purchasin’ manager at the shipyards gave me.”

  “Right,” Pete said, standing up and returning to his desk.

  I sat thinking about how much we were dealing with right now: a rape, shady businesses and poisoned bootlegged booze. I had a sinking feeling this was only the beginning of what lay ahead. Too much was happening too fast and the city wasn’t ready to deal with it.

  I leaned forward and picked up the list, fortunately, it was short. According to the list only six companies made the parts in question. One company was listed as a supplier of the valve in question; Dartmouth Marine Supplies. Other suppliers were scattered around, in Truro, Lunenburg and Liverpool. Dartmouth Marine Supply had a contract from the shipyards to provide a wide range of machine parts, as well as other materials.

  I reached for the phone and called Alfred Aitken’s office and asked for the contact information for the Dartmouth Company, including the name of the person who took the order for the parts. He found the information and passed it on to me. He said it was owned and operated by two partners: Iain Sinclair and Michael McPherson. I thanked him for the information and hung up.

  My next call was to Dartmouth Marine Supplies.

  The conversation was brief: yes, they supplied the part and yes, they did receive a purchase order from the shipyard and shipped ten of those valves to them as part of a larger order. Five minutes later I had made an appointment to meet with Mr. Iain Sinclair at one-thirty. My next call was to Morrison to ask him to pass on a request to the military police patrols to keep an eye open for the car.

  No sooner had I hung up, than the phone rang. It was my boss, Lieutenant Morrison.

  “You busy?” he asked when I picked up.

  “No more than usual,” I answered.

  “I just got off the phone with the Mayor. He wants an update on the accident at the shipyards.”

  Curious, I thought. I wondered why this matter warranted the interest of the Mayor. Only thing I could guess was there must a connection between him and Trudeau somehow. Even if there was, I still didn’t see why Trudeau would be calling on the Mayor.

  “Looks like there might be somethin’ shady goin’ on at the manufacturin’ end. Accordin’ to the professor who did the analysis of the ruptured valve, it was assembled with inferior metals. He also said it should never have passed any inspection, which leads me to think there’s some sort of double-dealin’ goin’ on.”

  “Yeah, and?”

  “I managed to track down where the valve may have come from: Dartmouth Marine Supply,”

  “That’s owned by Sinclair and McPherson,” he said.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I jus’ found that out. I take it you know these men
?”

  “Only socially, they’re members of the same club I’m in.”

  “So, they’re Free Masons?”

  “Yes. Is that a problem?”

  “Don’t know yet. You know they’re a pretty secretive bunch an’ the members are usually pretty well connected.”

  “Be that as it may, John, I expect you to do your job; just keep me updated on your progress, especially if it involves these men. By the way have you seen the papers today?”

  “Not yet.”

  “They’ve published the assault incident.”

  “Had to happen eventually, I suppose. They go into much detail?”

  “No. Just that an unidentified woman was admitted to the VG with undisclosed injuries. Where are you on this case?”

  “We’re gettin’ on with it. Her girlfriends told us about the night in question an’ gave us descriptions of two men the girl was last seen with. We also questioned some people in the area who remembered that night an’ were able to give us a lead; one of the men had a car. Pete has been followin’ it up with motor vehicle registration.”

  “Good work. Anything else?”

  I quickly filled him in on the upcoming raids on the blind pigs and my conversation with Phil Mulroney to have his people deal with the supply end if we got any useful information. When I finished, I outlined the plan for the raids and asked if he would make some calls to have a couple of MPs and Shore Patrolmen on hand to help out with any servicemen that might be there. He agreed with the plan and said he’d make the calls.

  “Very good,” Morrison said. “I won’t keep you.” The line went dead. Conversation over.

  I got up and went to where I had hung my jacket and retrieved the folded newspaper from the pocket. I opened it as I walked back to my desk. The article that Morrison alluded to was on page three:

  Unconscious Woman Found and Admitted To VG

  A woman was admitted to the emergency department at the

  Victoria General Hospital in the early hours of Sunday

  morning with undisclosed injuries. She was found uncon-

  scious in the city’s west end by a passing patrol car. Accord-

  ing to sources at the hospital, she remains unconscious and

  is responding to treatment. The hospital declined any further

  comment pending their contact with relatives.

  Good, I thought, when I finished reading the article. Simple and direct. No details or references to the rape. If word got out that a teenage girl was brutally raped and beaten, all hell would break out. Tensions were already starting to build up between the citizenry and the hordes of servicemen and foreigners flooding into the city on a weekly basis.

  I put the paper down and went over to Pete’s desk.

  “Any word yet from the motor vehicle people on the car?” I asked, standing beside the desk.

  “Not yet,” he said. “Want me to call them?”

  “No,” I said, checking my watch. “They said they’d get back to us later today, but if you don’t hear anythin’ by quittin’ time, call them in the mornin’. I want to get this case shut down before the papers get the full story.”

  “Yeah. There could definitely be some serious crap if people hear a teenage girl got raped.”

  “Exactly. There’s a lotta people in the city lookin’ for an excuse to start somethin’ with the merchantmen and sailors without this to light a fire under them. I’m headin’ out for a bit. I got a meetin’ with Phil to discuss a few things. Anythin’ comes up, I’ll be at naval headquarters. I should be back in an hour or so.”

  “Okay,” Pete said. “Tell ‘im hi for me.”

  I managed to get a seat on the tram heading south on Barrington Street. I always tried to use public transport when I can, mainly because of the constant heavy traffic and gas rationing. I sat thinking about when I first met Phil Mulroney. It was shortly after war was declared by the Canadian government in nineteen thirty-nine. He was here on detached duty from the Royal Canadian Mounted Police in Montreal. He was assigned to naval intelligence, responsible for port security and dealing with any possible treats to the war effort from dissidents or foreign agents. Since then, we had dealt with two German agents that surfaced in the course of separate cases I worked on. He was a sergeant when we met but was recently promoted to Inspector. We became good friends over the course of our association.

  We were sitting at a table in the small canteen located in the basement of the headquarters building. We each had a mug of coffee and a sandwich in front of us.

  “I hear you’ve been busy,” he said, taking a bite of the baloney sandwich.

  “Yeah, you could say that,” I responded. “I got a rape, what looks like some shady business dealings with ship’s parts and poisoned booze comin’ into the city.”

  “That’s a plateful right enough. So, how’re things progressing?”

  “Not as bad as you’d think, thankfully. We got a good lead on the man who raped the girl and Pete’s settin’ up a series of raids on a few of the pigs for tomorrow.”

  “And that matter at the shipyards?”

  “I’m lookin’ into that. I’ve got confirmation the valve failed because of defects in the metals According to the expert I talked to, these had to be deliberate because it would never have passed inspection before leavin’ the shop.”

  “So, you think the manufacturer is involved?”

  “Maybe. The valve was supplied by another company in Dartmouth, a local distributor.

  “So, you think this company has made some sort of deal with the manufacturer to provide shoddy materials at a lower price, then split the profit?”

  I just shrugged.

  “I assume you got names,” Phil said, finishing his sandwich.

  I nodded. “The company in Dartmouth is called Dartmouth Marine Supply. I’m plannin’ a visit in the next day or two.”

  “Let me know if I can do anything.”

  “I don’t think I need you on this one. It’s lookin’ like it’ll be a civil matter. However, since you’re offerin’ help... Does your bunch have any information on the companies actually dealin’ with he shipyards an’ the military?”

  “Matter of fact, yeah, we do. It’s standard practice nowadays to look into any company procuring government or military contracts, especially those making anything to do with our ships. I suppose you want anything we got on the machine shops and manufacturers.”

  “If it doesn’t break any restrictions, yeah,” I said.

  “No problem. Those files are confidential but not classified as secret, so, I don’t see an issue sharing. I can send the information over to you later today.”

  “That’s great. I think I’ll concentrate on the companies working with Dartmouth Marine Supplies for now.”

  “Okay,” Mulroney said. “Anything else?”

  “Yeah, I might need some help on this bad booze business, not on the raids mind, we got that covered, but on shuttin’ down the sources outside the city.”

  “Like I said before, that I can help you with. If you can get confirmed names and locations, then I can mobilize our units outside the city to take action.”

  “Great, thanks. So, how’re things on your end these days? Any more agents showin’ up?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “No, no agents, but there are other pressing concerns which I can’t talk about, you understand,” he said, smiling.

  I held up my hands. “Hey, I really don’t want to know, besides I got enough to deal with. By the way, how’s Michael doin’? I haven’t talked to him in a while.”

  “Good. Busy, like the rest of us. He’s up in Ottawa at the moment. He should be back soon...I hope. We’ve got some matters to deal with.”

  “Well, on that note...” I said, standing up. “Thanks for the sandwich an’ coffee. I’ll keep in touch on the booze business. Say hi to Michael when you talk to him; oh, Pete said to say hi.”

  “No problem. Good luck with everything and let me know how you make
out,” he said as we shook hands. I headed outside to catch a tram back to the station.

  Ten minutes after I returned, I was sitting at my desk when the phone rang. It was the duty desk.

  “Robichaud,” I said when I picked up.

  “Hollett here,” a man’s voice said into my ear. Jack Hollett was a retired veteran of the force who was called back in and assigned to man the duty desk on a regular basis.

  “Jack. What’s up,” I said.

  “Jus’ got a call in from a foot patrolman down by the park. Sez he thinks he’s spotted a car might fit the description of the one you an’ Pete are lookin’ for. He sez it fits the description to a tee an’ has a 24 on the plate.”

  The park he referred to was Cornwallis Park across from the train station and one of the frequent hangouts used by servicemen.

  “Did he say where it went?”

  “He thinks it turned at Morris headin’ for Lower Water Street.”

  “I don’t suppose he managed to get a tag number?” I asked.

  “He didn’t say so, I’m guessin’ no.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Anythin’ else?”

  “Nope, that’s it.”

  “Okay, thanks. Keep passin’ along anythin’ that comes in.”

  “Right,” Hollett said then the line went dead.

  “What’s up?” Pete asked from his desk.

  “A patrolman walkin’ the beat down by Cornwallis Park phoned in sayin’ he thinks he spotted the car we’re lookin’ for. Said it turned onto Morris Street headin’ for Lower Water. Might mean it’s headin’ for the north end,” I said.

  “Hmm. So, I guess that means the guy doesn’t figure we know ‘bout the car.”

  “Maybe. We might’ve caught a break here. If he thinks we don’t know ‘bout the car, he probably will continue to use it. So, we step up our search. I’ll have the patrols pay more attention. I think I’ll get the boss to call the shore patrol guys an’ see if they’ll keep a look out as well.”

  “Good thinkin’,” Pete said. “The more eyes we have the better.”

 

‹ Prev