by Warren Court
“Alright, darling. This man was just leaving.” Graham said.
Armour extended his hand for the list of names.
“Oh right, here you go.” Graham handed it back.
Armour thanked Lester and Cynthia Graham and left their house. He closed the gate to the picket fence behind him and as he turned to head back to his bike he spotted a white pickup. In the driver’s seat was the security guard from Eastman Lake Steel plant. Armour was sure of it. He controlled himself and did not let on that he had spotted the guy.
Armour turned his back on the truck and pretended like he was fixing himself for the journey back. He took out his pocket watch but ignored what time it was. He strolled closer to the lake, lazy easy steps. Just a guy out admiring the incredible view. He could hear the waves pounding on the shore as he got closer. A strong fall breeze had picked up and the surface of the lake was a steady stream of waves topped with thin white lines of foam coming in. The sky was darkening out over the lake. The bikers were going to get a good soaking.
He noticed that the street he was on was not a dead end but swung to the left and ran along the shore. Armour walked down that road for a hundred yards and bent down and played at tying his boot which was already securely tied. While he was doing that he glanced back up the road he’d just come but did not see the pickup. Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him. Armour continued down this road until eventually it swung back up to main street and the throng of bikers. Armour picked up the pace and headed back to his motorbike.
His bike was unmolested. The crowd had grown in size, Armour didn’t think that was possible. Up and down the main drag, bikes were cruising, their owners revving their engines. Some riders were performing stunts on them, hand stands, wheelies, burnouts, the crowds cheering them on. Armour saw one woman’s bare breasts from a distance and then she was swallowed up by the crowd.
Armour started his bike and put his helmet on. He looked up main street in the direction he had just come. The crowd parted momentarily and he saw a white pickup turn on to main and head away from town. Maybe it was the same one he had seen with the security guard at the wheel. Maybe Armour had been imaging things after all.
21
Melanie lead Armour into the two-story office building in downtown Hamilton.
“Armour what’s wrong with you?” she said when Armour turned around for the sixth time to see if anyone was following them.
“Nothing.”
“You seem jumpy.”
“I was on my motorbike yesterday for quite a while. I can still feel the sensation. All that vibration.”
“Right your trip to Port Dover. How did that go?”
“Good, I think. I spoke with the foreman from the plant. He said that the cops did question one of his men during the Truscott thing, a guy named Bill Powers. He’s on the list I got from Johnny Pops.”
“Johnny Pops, listen to you.”
Armour smiled. “Anyways, I tried to ring him last night. Phone number is disconnected. I got the phone number from 411 for that address and tried it, it’s not Bill Powers. Some Asian fellow answered. Wrong number.”
“Whoa, Armour Black splurged on a long-distance call and a call to 411?”
“Are you saying I’m cheap?”
“You’re cute,” she said.
“They were long distance calls but I felt it necessary, and I needed to take a break from driving out there. I’m not sure what to do now.”
They asked for Barbara Housen at reception and waited ten minutes before being shown into a large office.
Barbara was beside her desk in her motorized wheelchair. She came over to them, smiling. She didn’t extend her hand. Armour realized she probably couldn’t.
“I’d shake hands but I’m a little limited,” she told them and nodded her head.
“Oh, that’s fine,” Melanie said. “I’m Melanie Fabes and this is my colleague, Armour Black.”
“Colleague?” Barbara said.
“Well we’re friends really but we’re looking into something. We’re writing a book.”
“About what?”
“The Truscott murder.”
“Oh that.”
Armour produced a picture, the one he stole from the school. He did intend to get it back to them at some point though he was sad for the sorry state it was in now, all creased up.
“My my, where did you find that?” Barbara answered excitedly.
“From the high school in Port Dover,” Armour told her.
Barbara eyed him suspiciously then looked down at the photo again and started to tear up. She couldn’t move her hands to wipe the tears away or dab at them with a handkerchief. Armour didn’t know what to do and felt bad. She turned her head away for a second and put the photo on the desk. When she turned back to face Armour and Melanie she was in control again.
“May we sit down?” Melanie said.
“Yes, of course. Would you like something?”
“You never graduated from that high school?” Armour said. Melanie snapped her head at him fast and shot him a look. How else was he supposed to approach it? Maybe they should have discussed their approach in the car.
“No, at least not from there.” The multiple diplomas on the wall behind her spoke to her success in academia. Her position confirmed her success in a professional field.
“I had my accident and was out of there. Had to go through two years of special schooling while I learned how to live my new life. Nowadays a kid in a wheelchair would be with all the other students. My case was so severe that was never an option.”
“I see,” Armour said. “Did you know the Truscott girl?” He felt Melanie’s jab in his side.
“No,” Barbara said. “It’s okay, Miss Fabes, there’s nothing much that shocks or offends me.”
Armour looked dejected. “What about Bill Powers?”
“No, never heard that name before. I have no connection to that case or those people.” Barbara said. “I’m a little puzzled why you’re here.”
“What happened to you?” Melanie asked.
“I was hurt by a car. I was hit by one. I ran out into the road. A car came along, didn’t have time to stop. It hit me, crippled me… it saved my life.”
“Saved your life?” Melanie said.
“Uh huh. You see I was running from a man. He had me in his car. I was out on a road by myself, walking home from where the bus dropped me off. He came by and asked me if I needed a ride. I said no. He was persistent. He got out and grabbed me.”
Melanie put her hand to her mouth.
“It all happened so quick. One minute I was on the road, next I was in his car. He was yelling at me. That he was going to kill me and my family if I didn’t shut up. So, I shut up. We drove for a while, I was in the front seat next to him.”
“Was it on the Scotch Line road? Did he turn the radio on?” Armour asked.
“Armour let her finish,” Melanie said.
“Anyway, he got distracted by something. I don’t know what it was, a rabbit jumped across the road and he swerved. I grabbed the door handle and slipped out while the car was still moving. I fell. Got up and ran around the back of it. Right into the road and right into a car that was trying to pass the one I had just gotten out of. Hit me for a loop, knocked me into a ditch. And here I am. Funny huh, he swerved to avoid a rabbit but thought nothing of killing me. He was going to do it too, I could see that in his eyes.”
Armour said, “You reported this to the police I imagine.”
“Things were so messed up then. I didn’t really start to recall things until about ten years later. I went through therapy, hypnosis. Gradually it has started to come out. And to answer your question, no, it wasn’t on the Scotch Line and I don’t remember if the radio was on or not.”
“What about the time of the Truscott murder though, did they come to you?”
“No, I don’t recall that. But like I said at that time, that was two years later or something?”
Armour nodde
d.
“I had so much going on, learning to live again and, like I said, I remembered none of it.”
Armour tried to remember the police files from the crawl space. There was no mention of Barbara Housen in them. They must not have made the connection.
“Do you think it was the same man?” Barbara said.
“It might be. You sure you’ve never heard of Bill Powers?” Armour asked.
“No, I never have. Not to say that I might have back then, there are still gaps. They tried to get me to do a composite sketch of the man who tried to take me but I couldn’t help them at all.”
“Do you want this photo?” Armour asked. He had no further use for it and she deserved it more than the school.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“We thank you for your time,” Melanie said.
Melanie and Armour got in her little Honda.
“So, that’s it,” she said. “The connection to the Truscott murder?”
Armour was quiet.
“Armour?”
“It’s not her in my spell, I’m certain. After seeing her today I know it isn’t. We have a good lead with Bill Powers, even if Burke did clear him. I think we should try and find him.”
“Agreed. Will be hard though. If he worked at that plant he may be dead from mesothelioma,” Melanie said.
Melanie drove back to Armour’s house in silence, just the swishing of the wipers as a light rain started to fall. As they turned onto the mountain brow road, Melanie pushed a button on the car radio and a man’s voice came through the speakers reading traffic conditions. After he finished a woman came on air reporting future events in Hamilton. Armour tuned her out and looked out the window at the passing homes and strip malls. He saw the general store he liked to shop at and thought for a second about asking Melanie to pull in, he’d buy them both a cherry coke.
Just then, though, music started playing on the radio and Armour forgot all about asking Melanie to stop and she cruised through a green light at the intersection. The song, the song, got to the chorus and Armour saw a tiny speck of white light in the corner of his right eye and he turned his head to look at it but it moved with him, never coming into the centre of his vision. Then the wash of black came over and he was out.
22
“Maybe we should put a piece of plastic between his teeth or something,” someone said from far away. Armour tried to open his eyes but they were almost glued shut from the spell. He felt a cool breeze heavy with moisture on him and he shivered.
“No, he’ll be fine.” It was Melanie’s voice and an image of her behind her desk looking up at him and smiling flashed in front of his vision, their first introduction. With all his might he forced his eyelids open. The passenger door was open and she was bent over him. Behind her but still fuzzy were other people, a woman holding a toddler and a man.
“You okay buddy?” the man asked. Armour looked around, still in the car.
“He’s going to be fine,” Melanie said. “He has seizures like this once in a while.”
“Oh okay. You sure you don’t want us to call an ambulance?”
“No.” Armour groaned.
“No, he’s fine.” Melanie straightened up and slowly closed Armour’s door cutting off the rain-filled, fresh breeze. He watched her say a few final words to the onlookers and then she came around to the driver’s side of the car and got in.
The windshield was still splattered with raindrops but in the distance, Armour could see the sun trying to poke through the retreating clouds.
“How long?” he said.
“About fifteen minutes. I was getting worried.”
“Who were those people?”
“They pulled over. Wanted to help.”
Armour felt his cheeks get hot. Melanie started her car, they were only a kilometre from his house. After a minute of silence Armour spoke.
“That song,” he said. “It came over the radio, that’s the one that’s in the spell.”
“Really? I don’t remember what it was. You slumped over and I just panicked. It’s a pop radio station.” She turned it on again.
“No don’t,” Armour said and she turned it off.
“Is it important?” Melanie asked.
“I don’t know. But it was raining, the windshield wipers. Then that song. I guess that’s what did it. It was more vivid this time. I felt something.”
“Fear?”
“No, it definitely was not that. You would expect that, right? But it wasn’t. Can’t put my finger on it.” Armour sighed. “I just wish I knew who it was happening to.”
“It’s definitely not Barbara in the dream?” Melanie said.
“Definitely not. I have no idea why I fixated on her picture but that’s gone now.” He took out the photo. It was getting more and more creased and he stared at the girl in the t-shirt and shorts with her team mates and coach and, whatever he felt, whatever the connection was, was gone. It was just a girl from long ago. He put the picture away.
“So, the person whose eyes you’re seeing this spell through, the one in the car. Is she the Truscott girl?”
“Can’t be sure. I want those policeman’s files. The ones he has in his crawl space.”
“Didn’t you say the widow was moving, the house was up for sale?” Melanie said. She drove on to Armour’s property.
“Yes.”
“That’s easy then. House is up for sale. We’ll just make an appointment to go see it. I’ll distract the agent, you slip downstairs and grab them.”
“How do I get them out of the house.”
“Bring a backpack or something, stuff them down your pants. I don’t know. We’ll figure it out.”
“Okay,” Armour said.
“Great, I’ll find the agent online and make the appointment. Hopefully for tomorrow, I have the day off.”
After Armour said goodbye to Melanie he stayed indoors. Night came on and his stomach started to churn and he realized he hadn’t eaten. Too late for anything lavish so he made himself a roast beef sandwich with mustard and fixed himself a whiskey soda.
He put on a phonograph and ate in the living room, perusing a newspaper from 1912 but he couldn’t absorb a single thing, his mind was wandering. Back to a farm house on an old dirt road out in the middle of nowhere with a lonely and frightened woman inside of it and he wondered what she was up to. Eventually he gave up reading, put the dish and glass in the sink and headed up to bed.
***
Armour bolted from his bedroom half-dressed and rushed down the stairs to get to the phone.
“Hello,” he said frantically.
“Armour, it’s me,” Melanie said. “I have us an appointment, for eleven o’clock.”
“The clock on his kitchen wall showed nine.”
“Not a lot of time. It’s a bit of a drive.”
“Get your keister down here. We’ll take my car.”
“Why?”
“For starters it’s faster. And young couples out house hunting don’t show up in Model T’s. Just get down here.”
He buttoned up his shirt and grabbed a suit jacket off the back of the chair and his bowler and he was out the door.
“No, no, no,” Melanie said when she opened her door and saw Armour standing there like Charlie Chaplin minus the moustache. She grabbed him and pulled him into her apartment.
“What?”
“Strip that stuff off.”
“Melanie, why?”
“Just the jacket and the shirt,” she said. “Hold on.” She went into the bedroom and came back with a bright red t-shirt that had pig on it with a handkerchief tied around its neck and eating a mess of ribs. Above the pig was written Burlington Rotary Rib-Fest.
“I’m not wearing that. Are you crazy?”
“Armour, you want to stand out, or do you want to slip in and get the goods? You go in looking like Laurel and Hardy…”
“Those are two people.”
“Whatever, you go in looking like that and the age
nt is going to remember you. We want him to forget us in case the widow discovers what we’ve boosted.”
“Why are you talking like that?”
“Like what?”
“Boosted… the goods.”
“I watched the French Connection last night. You seen it?”
“Don’t remember,” he said.
“Here.”
Armour took the shirt and hesitated. He lowered his head and smirked at her.
“Oh Armour.” She turned her back to him and he changed like she asked.
“Done,” he said.
She turned around and giggled.
“Oh, come on.” He began to tug at the shirt to remove it.
“Sorry.”
“It’s your shirt, Melanie. Where on earth did you get it?”
“I worked the rib fest last year. Great ribs, you should go sometime.”
“No thanks. I can imagine everyone walking around dressed like this.”
“Come on, rib boy, let’s go.” She grabbed her keys and led him out.
Armour and Melanie waited for fifteen minutes outside the Burke home until a shiny blue BMW drove up.
“These guys always drive the nicest cars. Have to project an image,” Melanie said.
A young man in a suit got out. He was thin with slicked back black hair. His skin had a greasy effect to it that glinted in the sun. He came around the front of his car clutching at a bunch of papers and brochures, a toothy grin on his face.
“Melanie?” he said as he came up the walkway.
“Hi, yes.” She stepped forward to shake his hand. “This is my fiancé, Armour.”
“Oh nice. Tim Stevens.” Armour shook his hand.
There was a metal lock box attached to the front door handle and Tim fumbled with some keys while keeping his material under his arm. He got the front door open and lead both of them in.
“Here you go,” he said and handed Armour a brochure and one to Melanie. Then he stepped away to look at his phone.
Melanie flipped through the material feigning interest. Armour just held his and when Stevens turned his head she elbowed Armour hard who caught on and opened the brochure and quickly flipped through it. There were wide angle shots of every room which gave the impression the house was much bigger than it really was.