by Dale Mayer
“I’m not kidding,” she said. “I woke up on the grass outside.”
He made another pot of coffee and turned to look at her. “Can you sleep here tonight?”
“I’m not sure,” she said. “There’s something really wrong in this town.”
“We didn’t think anything was wrong with his town,” he said, a note of humor in his voice, “until you showed up. And then, of course, that changed everything.”
“Yeah. Apparently, I’m a nosy body who can’t stop getting into people’s faces. Oh, and what happened to Crystal?”
“She’s on her way home, but a snag in the paperwork caused a few delays. We’re hoping she’ll be here by the coming weekend.”
“Good,” Doreen said. “I’m sure the town will be delighted.”
“If you think Steve,” Mack said, looking at her as he leaned against the counter and waited for the pot to drip, “had something to do with those women not cashing their checks, what do you think he did with the money?”
“It depends how desperate he was for cash,” she said. “Because to hire somebody to kill these men and their wives and to then hire an arsonist meant Steve had to pay these people. It also meant now these people would know about it. But what if he invited these people to his house and killed them there? Have you seen the size of his property? It’s huge.”
Mack stared at her, then looked out at the vast expanse of her backyard and her own gardening that she didn’t want to be reminded of. Then he nodded. “It’s possible, but he’d be taking a hell of a chance.”
“Not really. Just think about it. Everybody thinks the best of him. You know yourself what a proper image can do to make you squeaky clean in the eyes of the law and to the public. Nobody would even have thought of it.”
“But he must have waited to kill their wives, in order to allay suspicion, except he’d have to do it soon enough they didn’t cash their checks. And burying them is no guarantee the police dogs wouldn’t find them.”
“Well, if he’d done it right,” she said, “it wouldn’t have been very difficult either.”
“No, … not at all,” he said. “Because Steve did a big addition on that property many years back, but I can’t remember when.”
She looked at him and said, “And that would likely mean heavy equipment.”
He nodded. “It would, but we don’t have any reason to suspect these women are missing. There have been no missing-persons reports filed on them.”
“That you know of,” she said. “Have you checked?”
“Yes,” he said. “Remember how I’m a cop? I read the files, and the cops assigned to those cases initially checked for the wives’ names. I did a follow-up check for those names, and they do not come up in the database.”
“But it’s been twenty-two years ago, right? How good are the search parameters? What were their maiden names and did their families even know they were married?” And then she stopped and asked, “And where were they married?”
“What difference does that make?”
“Think about how common-law marriage is handled in Canada. I’ve heard tales about how they are ruled by different standards, depending where you live in Canada. You must know more about it though. However, if the men died, and they owned the houses back then, and, if they weren’t married, then the women wouldn’t get anything out of the house or any life insurance. If that even existed.”
He sat down beside her. “True,” he said. “So that would explain why Steve was helping them with a check.”
“Exactly,” Doreen said.
“I’ll have to think on this and go back to the database,” Mack said. Then he pinched his nose and rubbed at the bridge. “Some sleep would help too.”
Doreen felt sorry for him. “You’re right,” she said. “I had a choice about going back to my bed, but you didn’t. Sorry.”
“No,” he said. “And apparently, I was forced to come here and listen to more of your theories over coffee.” But at least the note of humor had come back into his voice. “Except without the coffee.”
“Coffee is done. Help yourself.” She smiled and said, “Besides, with these cases, you need a fresh eye.”
“No,” he said. “It’s not even a fresh eye. It’s about having something new to break the case open. And, in this case, that’s just what happened. Because it’s Steve’s property, and it was arson, and there’s a male body, now we can tear his life apart. We had no reason to suspect him and no evidence to point to him as the guilty party.”
“But now,” she said with a smirk, “you can take him down.”
“There’s no point in taking him down,” he reminded her. “The man’s already down. He’ll only be going six feet farther.”
Doreen winced at that. “True, but a lot of families could be involved in a lot of related cold cases.”
Mack groaned at that, then laughed. “The guys already want me to stop you from digging into these cold cases. You’ve caused everybody a lot of work.”
“They’re not serious, are they?” She hoped they were joking. The last thing she wanted to believe was the extra work overrode doing the right thing.
He shook his head. “No, they’re not. They’re loving this as much as anybody.”
“Good,” Doreen said, “because I’d really hate to think that any cop didn’t want these cases closed.”
“No, not happening.”
Chapter 28
Wednesday Midafternoon …
By midafternoon, Doreen went back to bed and took a nap. When she woke up for the third time today, she felt refreshed, like she might make it through the rest of the day. She got up and made herself one of the biggest sandwiches she’d ever had. Feeding a little bit of the ham and cheese to Goliath and Mugs and a little bit of her lettuce to Thaddeus, her group ate in peaceful contentedness.
Except her mind buzzed with the ideas. If Steve was dead, that would be a huge blow to Penny. Doreen was pretty sure that, in Penny’s mind, Steve would be her savior and would get her out of this. Now that her husband, George, wasn’t here to help her out of her tough spots, she’d been likely relying on Steve for support. If dead, that wouldn’t happen now.
With her mind rolling through ideas, Doreen pulled a pad of paper and a pen toward her and jotted them down. If the checks came back as cashed, then that theory, of course, went out the window. But why were there no files on these women? Or were they all women in a vulnerable position? And then Doreen thought about it and realized the women in these gangs were often separated from their families and lived a precarious lifestyle anyway. Their birth families probably had no idea where they were or how they were living at the time this all went down—short of the women themselves contacting their families for help.
Yet, if these women had been with these men for any time period, would they call their families? Doreen highly doubted it. But maybe that was a possibility. And that brought her around to that original case of arson. The man in the Kelowna gang who had been killed first and likely led to the other three fires and deaths in retaliation. As far she was concerned, that first fire had started this ugly cycle. That was the Helmsman case. Where was his wife?
Doreen did as much research as she could, finding an Annette Helmsman who had survived that fire. Further research didn’t give much information though. But when Doreen researched the family name, she did get a hit. There were a couple possible spellings listed in Kelowna. But Helmsman wouldn’t have been her name if they weren’t married.
If they were married, then maybe she didn’t need a big check from Steve because she would have gotten a life insurance payout or even a house insurance reimbursement. Still, a life insurance policy on a biker was a big leap. They probably couldn’t afford that. Plus, Doreen couldn’t confirm the check angle either. And Mack was no help on that as well.
Thinking about that, she dialed the number of the name with the first spelling. The person who answered sounded confused, told her, “Sorry, you must have the wrong numb
er.” Doreen thanked the person and looked up the second spelling. There she got an irritated man, saying, “She’s not at this number anymore.”
“Do you happen to know where she is?”
“She’s in a hospice,” he said. “But I don’t know where.”
At that, Doreen put down her phone and thought of hospices. So, somewhere like where Solomon was. But not likely the same place. That would be too much of a coincidence. There was a hospice society in town though. She picked up the phone and called, then asked about Annette Helmsman’s condition and if visitors were allowed. The woman on the other end said, “Only if Annette wants to see the visitor. Generally, it’s restricted to friends and family.”
“Oh,” Doreen said. “Right. I don’t even know where she is.”
“The Giusichan Hospice Center.”
“Okay, interesting. Thank you. I’ll phone and see if Annette would like a visitor.”
“Some of these people are very lonely, so I’m sure she’d be grateful.”
Thanking the woman, Doreen rang off and then looked up the number for the hospice. Then she made yet another call.
“Annette doesn’t get many visitors,” said the woman who answered. “I can talk to her. Or do you want me to patch her through?”
“Sure,” Doreen said. At that, the phone rang, and another person picked up the phone.
“Hello?”
This was a very old and weak voice. Doreen was surprised she had access to the phone herself. But, if it were Nan, no way in heck would she allow anybody to take away her independence by keeping a phone from her.
Doreen introduced herself and said, “I’m looking into the death of your partner from way back then.”
“Oh my,” Annette said, then was quiet before continuing in a frail voice. “You know what? Somebody needs to hear the truth. Are you that bone lady?”
Doreen smiled and said, “Yes, I am.”
“Can you get the animals in here?”
Doreen winced. “Is there an outside patio where I could meet you? I don’t think they’ll let animals into the medical facility.”
Annette’s voice faded slightly, and she said, “There is a veranda. But I don’t want to be alone there.”
“Why don’t I come down first, and then I’ll see if I can get permission to bring the animals to meet you?”
“Sure,” Annette said, her voice gaining in strength. “Bring a recorder. I don’t have too much time left on this earth. My younger years weren’t the best.”
Although her voice was gaining in strength, and she no longer sounded like she was at death’s door, it still had a heavy breathlessness to it. “When do you want me to come?”
“Tomorrow morning. That is, if I make it through the night.”
At that, Doreen rang off, now worried about Annette. What were the chances she wouldn’t make it until the morning?
It was late afternoon only, and Doreen knew it would test her patience to wait until tomorrow morning, but what she also needed was to be prepared. She decided that, instead of using her cell phone as a recorder, she should probably get something a bit better. She hopped into her vehicle and went into town. An electronics store was by the mall, and yet, another little shop was off Glenmore. She went for the mall.
She was shown something for less than thirty dollars. But it was still money. She hemmed and hawed and then decided it could be important. She bought it and found out she needed batteries for it, so she bought a pack of those.
Back home again, she tested it out several times. And then, with that and her phone and her notepad ready and waiting, she still had the rest of the evening to get through. And the best thing for that was hard work. But groaning, she wasn’t sure she had enough energy for gardening. Still, while she had daylight, she took the animals and this time a fresh cup of tea and went outside and started digging up weeds. If she could at least dig back another couple feet, she’d feel like she’d done something. She worked hard for a couple hours and then collapsed on the grass.
“That’s it,” she said to Mugs, flopping onto her back. “I’m done.”
He woofed and sat in her lap, rolling up so his big thick paws were in the sky. She scratched his belly and just spent a few moments cuddling him. Her tea had long gone cold. Her sandwich had been long-ago digested too, and she was fading quickly. She needed some way to destress and to relax before falling asleep.
She remembered the four books she still had. Grabbing one, she set it on the kitchen table. It was too early to go to bed, but maybe with a light dinner in her room, she could relax and read. So, that was what she did. By nine o’clock, she crashed into her bed.
Chapter 29
Thursday Morning …
When Doreen woke up the next morning, she was relieved she’d slept so well and so long, even with lingering fears of her house burning to the ground in the middle of the night.
She made coffee, checked her time, and would leave soon to see Annette. Doreen had to drive, which meant locking up the animals again. Annette had wanted to see them, but Doreen wasn’t prepared to take them to the hospice without prior permission from the management. She could easily bring them on a second visit.
She set the alarm and escaped, hating the long sad looks from the animals. Particularly Mugs, who often got to come with her more than the other two. At least the media appeared to have completely disappeared now. If she could only stay out of trouble, they might not return. Finally clear of the cul-de-sac, she drove the few miles to the hospice.
Along the way, Doreen wondered how to open this conversation and how to get the answers she needed without upsetting a very sick woman, but there was no way to know beforehand. She’d just have to dive in.
She walked into the front entrance and checked what room Annette was in. With the correct room number, Doreen followed instructions and knocked. When the voice called out, “Come in,” Doreen stepped inside to see a woman who looked like she’d had her heart and soul taken away from her, and she was totally done for. Doreen smiled and said, “I’m Doreen, the bone lady.”
Annette smiled. “I’m Annette. Although you’re not a priest, I do feel like I need to have a moment to confess to somebody. All I ask is that you don’t share this information until after I’m gone.”
Knowing that would be damn hard to do since the information could save a life, Doreen said, “I agree.” She could only hope—and she hated thinking about that—that Annette wouldn’t stay long in this world.
Annette seemed to read her mind. “Not to worry. I won’t be around in a few days anyway.”
Doreen sat down and turned on the recorder. “I’m sorry to hear that. But I understand how facing that can make us have regrets.”
Annette nodded.
“Okay. What is it you’d like to tell the world?”
“I, Annette Helmsman,” the woman started, her eyes closed, “of sound mind and a failing body, am giving a dissertation on my life and all the problems of my past. I was part of the Devil Riders’ gang out of Kelowna when I married my husband. Although he was part of the gang too, I hadn’t realized just what that life would bring. But I was a willing cohort and agreed to the lifestyle, despite it being rough and not all of it to my liking. We’d only been married eight years when he was killed in a house fire. My life changed afterward.
“I was still part of the gang and was looked after to a certain extent, but I no longer belonged to anyone in particular and was passed around until I could find another partner. I didn’t know how to leave the gang, and I didn’t know how to exist in that new world without my partner, so I just survived until something changed so that I could get out of the gang.
“But getting out of the gang didn’t happen until almost twenty years later, and since then, over these last two years, my life has been a lot easier. But that’s also when my body decided to turn on me from the years of abuse. I have pancreatic cancer and do not expect to live out this week.” She fell silent for a long moment.
&n
bsp; Doreen didn’t know if she should prompt Annette or just let her words flow.
Finally, Annette picked up the pace. “My husband’s gang brothers wanted retaliation for his death. They were adamant that his death was caused by another gang that had moved into the area. They murdered men and then burned houses to the ground of four separate families. Yes, before you ask, all of them were members of the other gang. I don’t know the names of the men or of their wives.”
Her voice became faint. “Years later I understood how life was different if you weren’t part of the gang like that. For my part in those killings, I know there is no asking for forgiveness.”
“What was your part in those killings?” Doreen asked, trying to keep the conversation flowing yet shocked at what she heard.
“I drove one of the getaway vehicles,” she said. “I knew what they were doing as they headed in. I knew the women would be spared, but that’s about all.”
“You were in a biker gang,” Doreen said, hesitating, “so why did you drive a car?”
“So that nobody knew it was a gang hit,” she said.
“Who was responsible for killing these four men?”
“Our gang leader.” Annette gasped for breath. “T-Bone. And his two lieutenants, Red and Manny.”
“Did you see them kill these men?”
She shook her head—or tried to. “No. But I drove those three men each time to the houses of their four victims.”
“All these fires were relatively close together,” Doreen said. “Why?”
“There was one a week for four weeks. Every Monday. Because T-Bone wanted their victims to start the week off hating what was to come.”
Doreen didn’t understand that thinking, but there wasn’t a lot she could say about it. “How were the men killed?”
“They were … No,” she stopped, looked confused for a moment, and then said, “They were stabbed in the gut. Soft tissue not to nick the bone. Then their bodies and their houses were lit.”
“And the women—where were they?”