by Ken Ogilvie
Rebecca had plenty of time to reflect on what had happened to her over the past few months. She realized she was a very different person from the immature, over-privileged cop who’d shown up on Maggie’s doorstep, convinced that she would solve the Abigail McBride murder in a week and go on to become the top homicide detective in the OPP. Boy, did she get that one wrong! At least she’d played a part in capturing Jackie Caldwell, and had got her coveted job in the Criminal Investigation Branch. Those victories had come at a high cost, and had depended upon help from an unlikely source — Hound.
Unexpectedly, and to Rebecca’s delight, Sykes showed up at Maggie’s house in the middle of the afternoon. He’d vanished shortly after Lorenzo Moretti was captured near Prospect, and no one had heard from him since.
“Come inside, Benny.” She laughed. “It’s great to see you again.”
He entered and removed his overcoat. “Just Sykes, please.” He glared at her. “How’s Maggie doing?”
“She’s in her final days,” Rebecca said. “She’s sleeping now, so come into the living room and we’ll chat there. Can I get you some coffee? Something to eat?”
“No, thanks,” Sykes replied. “I’ve had lunch. I’m just passing through.” He followed Rebecca to the living room and settled into a comfortable chair.
With trepidation, Rebecca asked, “Any news on Cartwright’s investigation into your affair with Sarah?”
Sykes emitted a short laugh. “Nothing substantive, and that’s how things will remain, as far as I’m concerned. The idiot has certainly overstayed his welcome in Prospect. Anyway, your father has said that the affair is a non-issue. He seems to have become a much better person since he was shot. I figure you had something to do with that.”
“Perhaps, although the bullet certainly played a key role in it.”
“Whatever his reasons, Rebecca, you have opened a new page in your life. Me too. I’ve spent a few days with Archie, resurrecting our old friendship. With your father off my back, Archie feels free to associate with me again. I can’t tell you how much I’ve enjoyed his company.”
“That’s great, Sykes. And talking of Archie, where is he? I thought he’d be staying at Maggie’s. He’s been so close to her for such a long time.”
Sykes said, “Don’t fret. He’ll be around later today, and he’ll be staying here with you and Maggie. He had a bit of delicate business to attend to, especially after I threatened to reveal your father’s passion for artifacts. I still don’t know where they’ve stored the loot, but Archie promised he’d tell me in due course.”
“Then I look forward to seeing him again. Maggie will be thrilled,” Rebecca said. “O’Reilly’s also coming over this evening, and Hound too, so it will be a reunion. Can you come too?” She gave him a beseeching look.
“Under the circumstances, I can hardly refuse.” Sykes grinned, and then rose to leave.
* * *
At 7:00 that evening, several friends were gathered in the living room at Maggie’s house. In addition to Maggie herself, who’d woken up an hour ago and was eager to see them, was Rebecca, Hound, O’Reilly, Sykes and Archie. Six people, who, in less than four months, had become connected in ways that ranged from threatening to enchanting.
Maggie seemed energized by the reunion, despite her frailty. They all chatted affably for half an hour, until O’Reilly cleared his throat. “I have an announcement to make. You should all know that there’s some doubt as to whether Lily Caldwell really did murder Steven Bradley. We have her confession, but the rock she hit him with was never found, although she insists she dropped it at the scene. The coroner’s report found evidence of several blows to the head, not just the two that Lily said she’d delivered. So there’s a distinct possibility that someone else came along and finished the job. On the other hand, Lily could be mistaken about how many times she struck Bradley. Her emotional turmoil may account for that. Yet, if her description of the event is accurate, she wasn’t the killer.”
Rebecca started to speak, but clamped her mouth shut. She recalled what Archie had said to her in Maggie’s backyard that day: where’s the proof of it, or something to that effect. Rebecca pondered those words, and became convinced that Archie knew who the real killer was. And then it hit her like a sledgehammer. It was Archie! He killed Steven Bradley! How else would he know about the missing rock? But why? She thought some more, and the only reason she could think of was that he’d killed her grandfather for raping Jackie, and maybe to save Lily from being convicted of murder. He must have ditched the rock somewhere. Rebecca recollected now that Sykes had told her he thought Archie capable of murder. He was a man with his own code of conduct. She snuck a sidelong glance at him, catching the enigmatic smile on his craggy face. She was dumbfounded. He’d just confirmed her thoughts about him.
Sykes waved his hand in front of her eyes. She shook her head and grinned sheepishly. “Sorry, folks. Now, where were we?”
“Lily,” O’Reilly said. “I should add that someone in this room has put up the money for a top criminal lawyer for her, and I figure there’s a good chance she’ll be set free.” Hound looked down at the floor.
Sykes grunted. “Maybe justice has been done, after all, broadly defined.”
He regarded Rebecca closely. “I hope so,” she said, “although perhaps some past sins should go unpunished.”
Everyone, except Archie and Sykes, looked puzzled. “There’s one sinner who I pray gets everything he deserves,” Sykes said.
“You mean Kingsley McBride?” O’Reilly said. “Well, we’re all with you on that one. With Jackie’s testimony, he should go down hard for his attempted murder of Freddie Stafford, and for inciting the murders of Charlie Taylor and Marco Perez. Their bodies have been recovered.”
“Don’t count on it,” Sykes said. “Clayton Metcalfe’s pretty good at getting criminals off the hook. McBride may get off with a reduced sentence.”
“In any event,” O’Reilly said. “McBride’s disappeared. By the time we got to his Hamilton office last week, he had vanished. Unsurprisingly, no one in the syndicate knew where he’d gone. So the slippery eel may have split for good — with their help. They’re claiming he wasn’t an employee, just a hired accountant. But nobody actually ‘works’ for the syndicate, do they?”
“What a scumbag,” Rebecca growled.
Maggie changed the subject. “What about your poor mother, Rebecca? Have you caught her killer yet?” She coughed, struggled to take in air, and reached for the oxygen tank that always stood near at hand these days.
Feeling as if she’d been put on the spot, Rebecca gazed about the room. Maggie, Hound and O’Reilly gazed back at her. Sykes and Archie wouldn’t meet her eyes.
“That one may never be solved,” Rebecca declared. “And I’ve given up trying to do so. There’ve been too many people seeking revenge, and it only causes grief. From now on, I’ll just get on with my life. My father and I have made peace, and I look forward to spending as much time with him as possible. I can’t continue to push him about my mother’s murder. It would only destroy our relationship all over again.
“Then it’s over with,” Maggie stated. She looked content. She got slowly to her feet and made her way to the kitchen. “Dinner will be ready soon. I’ll just check with my assistants, Sally and Daisy. They offered to help out tonight. Been workin’ on the feast all day. It feels strange not to be makin’ it myself, but I guess my fancy cooking days are over.” At the living room door, she turned and said to Archie, “I’ve been wondering what you’ll do with all those boxes you’ve got stored in my basement. But we can talk about that later.” She vanished from sight.
Sykes gave Archie a sharp look, and Archie’s face broke into a wide smile. Both men roared with laughter, while the others regarded them in puzzlement. Then Rebecca cottoned on and joined in the laughter, while Hound and O’Reilly continued to trade bewildered looks.
When the laughter died down, Archie addressed Sykes. “I guess ye’ll be cartin�
� some o’ those boxes out o’ here soon enough. But I should let ye know that George Bradley has already offered t’ donate his artifacts to the Church. There’s a few wee legal details to deal with, but a while ago he met with a starchy lady lawyer who said she’ll take care o’ everythin’.”
Sykes, still grinning, said, “What artifacts? I know nothing about any artifacts. Anyway, they’re no longer my business. I handed Cartwright my resignation yesterday afternoon. I’ll be starting a new job on Monday as the president of the recently incorporated Hound and Hare Detective Agency.” He nodded at Hound, who said, “I need to do something with my life, and what better way to start out in the PI business than having the greatest detective in the country at the helm.”
Sykes was surrounded by well-wishers. Rebecca was especially delighted, although she would miss him at the OPP.
Hound caught their attention again. “Provision has also been made for a new partner in the agency, when the appropriate time comes.” He directed his gaze to Rebecca, whose mouth fell open as she realized what he was saying. Perfect. She would spend a few more years with the OPP, then join her friends in their agency. It had always been a dream of hers to become a PI.
“Just one more thing,” Hound said. “The agency has two rookie recruits who’ll be taking courses to get certification as PIs. Shorty Davis is already onboard and raring to go, and Lukas Barber will be working with us once he’s fully recovered from the wounds he got saving my life. His latest prognosis is looking good, and he should be available about three months from now, the doctors say.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” O’Reilly exclaimed. “I never envisaged an outcome like this. But I can’t think of a finer one.” He grinned broadly and went around the room clapping people on the shoulder and congratulating them.
Sykes cleared his throat noisily. “There’s also provision for senior associates. That is, if we’re lucky enough to convince an experienced officer or two to join the firm after they retire.”
O’Reilly sucked in a deep breath. He made no comment, but his eyes shone a little more brightly.
Just then, Maggie came back into the room and announced, “Dinner’s waitin’.” The rich aroma of one of her famous home-cooked meals had already reached the nostrils of the entire group, and they herded eagerly towards the dining room.
Chapter Sixty-Five
Monday, October 15, 2007
Kingsley McBride sat glumly on a ratty divan in a rundown cottage situated on an isolated patch of land bordering Lake Erie. His half-brother Tony was sitting stiffly across from him in a large armchair. Neither man had said a word for a full ten minutes. Tony had a strange look on his face that Kingsley wasn’t able to decipher, but it didn’t look good. When he couldn’t take the silence anymore, he said, “What’s wrong, Tony? I know the police are searching for me, but surely you can send me somewhere safe? Maybe the Caribbean, or South America. I can still do the syndicate’s books from there, can’t I?”
Tony peered out the window at the rough waters of the lake. The weather had turned wet and cold overnight.
Kingsley worried that his asthma would kick in again. It had become worse with the lousy weather in this place.
“Please, Tony. Tell me everything will be okay. I need your reassurance, brother.”
“Half-brother,” Tony said, and turned back to face Kingsley. He raised his voice. “You can come in now.”
Kingsley twisted about to see who Tony was calling to. Mario Daglioni entered the room with two of his former bodyguards trailing behind him.
Kingsley jumped to his feet. “What’s going on? Why is he here?” He pointed at Mario. “You said you’d taken care of him.”
Tony rose quickly. “Indeed, I did. But he’s been a loyal syndicate member for decades. You, on the other hand . . .” He didn’t need to finish the sentence.
“Take him away, men,” Tony said, in an emotionless voice. “Fit him with a new pair of shoes, and make sure the soles are extra heavy. He’s going for a long walk on the lake bottom.” Tony paused briefly. “Make sure he’s still breathing when you drop him in.” He turned and left the room.
Chapter Sixty-Six
Maggie slept for most of the day. It’s as though the reunion last night had sapped her remaining energy. I wandered about the house and chatted with Archie, mostly small talk. I didn’t ask him about my grandfather, or Sarah, and I’m sure he’ll never mention them again. I’m determined to move forward instead of backward, which is new to me. It’s scary to contemplate my future, despite knowing that I’ll be working in the CIB for the next few years. Holding on to the past has been my anchor until now, and I’ll have to figure out some new things to occupy my thoughts.
I went for a long walk with Hound this morning. It was raining, but neither of us minded. We strolled along the lane separating his house from Maggie’s, then we wandered round the derelict sawmill. We talked about Jackie Caldwell and why she turned into the monster she became. I feel responsible for it, in a way, given my family’s role in the whole thing.
Hound told me about Matthew Simon’s claim that Jackie had become an Odaki — a demon — until it abandoned her. Apparently, these demons don’t die, they just move on. Maybe I’ve had my own demon to contend with since my mother died, and perhaps everyone does at some time in their life. In any event, I feel that mine is gone too, hopefully never to return. There’s so much to do, now that I’ve been freed.
During these past months, I have learned that the world is full of mysteries and surprises, some pleasant, others not. I know there’s more to come, but I’m ready to face it. Another thing I know is that Hound will continue to play a role in my life.
— From the diary of Rebecca Sarah Bradley (Monday, October 15, 2007)
THE END
Acknowledgements
Special thanks is given to the following people who reviewed and commented on early stage and/or late drafts of this novel: Jane Pagel, Gord Miller, Ed Seaward, Linda Ogilvie and Paul Griss, as well as my Sisters in Crime critique group colleagues: Lesley Mang, Terri Dixon and Susan Daly, who provided detailed comments and chapter by chapter suggestions during the writing process. Thanks is also given to Joffe Books, and especially Anne Derges for her professional edits and insightful recommendations, as well as Jasper Joffe for his advice and support.
REBECCA BRADLEY SERIES
Book 1: HER DARK PATH
Book 2: HOUND
HER DARK PATH
UK https://www.amazon.co.uk/gripping-crime-mystery-twists-turns-ebook/dp/B075HHGQSC/
USA https://www.amazon.com/gripping-crime-mystery-twists-turns-ebook/dp/B075HHGQSC/
Hound is Ken’s second novel, following on Her Dark Path, published in 2017 by Joffe Books, London, England. Her Dark Path introduced Hound as a secondary protagonist to Rebecca Bradley. The second novel in the series features him more prominently. Ken has served in a variety of positions within the environmental policy domain, including three governments in Canada as well as twelve years as the Executive Director of Pollution Probe, one of Canada’s premier environmental groups. Ken is well known across Canada for his environmental work. He has been a Board and Advisory Group member of several not-for-profit organizations and remains active as a consultant to government, industry and environmental groups. He has been awarded two honorary doctorates for his achievements, from the University of Waterloo, Ontario, and Thompson Rivers University, British Columbia.
More info at www.kenogilvie.com
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