Dead Girl Found

by Warren Court

  “Look,” Armour said to Melanie. “Furnished basement.” There was a shot that showed the hatchway to the crawl space and he tapped it for her.

  Tim put his phone and appointment book down on a coffee table and came back to them.

  “What brings you out this way?”

  Armour was stunned, no answer. Umm trying to solve a thirty-year-old murder?

  Melanie paused for a second and then jumped in. “I’m getting transferred. To the hospital out here, I’m an X-ray technician.”

  “What about you, Armour? What are you going to do out here?” Tim chuckled.

  Again silence.

  “Armour writes. Mystery novels, don’t you, Armour?”

  “Trying to,” Armour said.

  “That’s great, I always wondered what that would be like, how you map everything out and solve it and keep people guessing. Must be challenging?”

  “Can be.”

  “Well we only have an hour before Mrs. Burke is due to return home.”

  “Where did she go?” Armour asked.

  “Into town to get her hair done I think she said. We have another viewing this evening. Not sure what we’re going to do with her. Hard for her to get around.”

  “She’s quite old,” Armour said.

  “Yes, she is. You know her?” Stevens said. Armour could feel the hot stare of Melanie glaring at him off to the side.

  “No, sorry I was thinking of someone else.”

  “Oh,” Tim said, confused.

  “Why don’t we split up? Melanie said. “I’ll go with Tim, he can show me the upstairs. You go check out that finished basement.”

  “There’s a finished garage too, perfect for working on an old car.”

  “What?” Armour said and his eyes lit up. He couldn’t help it.

  “Yeah, you should see it, why don’t I take you out there and Melanie you go check out the upstairs and we’ll be up in a bit.”

  “I uh…” Armour said and Tim walked over to a side door that lead into the garage.

  “Come on this will only take a second. You gotta see what her late husband did with this garage.”

  “Go on,” Melanie said and she cocked her head at the stairs leading downstairs and winked.

  Armour went over to Tim who had the door open and he saw Melanie disappear down to the basement.

  Tim flicked on the lights. “You work on old cars?” Tim said.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “I could tell. What do you have? I have a ’67 mustang myself, fastback.”

  “Model T.” Damn why did he say that. He remembered Melanie saying they shouldn’t be remembered.

  “Really? Those must be easy to work on. Hard to get parts though, eh?”

  “No not really. If you have the connections.”

  The garage was nice, there was an empty spot with a large oil stain. On the walls were pictures of different cars but all the same model and on the wall was a sign that said MOPAR.

  “Ah, a Mopar guy,” Tim said. “Us Ford guys have no use for those, do we?”

  “No, guess not.” The garage had half a dozen shiny red tool chests lining one wall and a full work bench at the rear wall with a press and a vice and a wire wheel set for buffing out chrome or scraping rust off metal. Above them was an automatic garage door.

  “Where’s the car?” Armour said.

  “I bet she sold it.”

  “Yeah probably after her husband died.”

  “How’d you know she was a widow? You don’t know her, do you?”

  “No, I don’t know her. Just speculating. I mean why else would the car be gone?” He laughed and was conscious of how nervous it sounded in the tight confines of the garage.

  “Let’s see if this works,” Tim said and he pushed the garage door opener. The raising door revealed a taxi in the driveway and Mrs. Burke getting out of it. The driver was around the passenger side helping her.

  Oh my god. Armour turned his head and put his hand through his hair to shield himself with his elbow.

  “Mrs. Burke, you’re back,” Tim said walking towards her. She was handing the driver money.

  “What?” she said.

  “I said you’re back early, we have a viewing. Miss Fabes and her fiancé are still here.”

  She walked up the driveway towards the garage. Armour wanted to shrink back into the cabinets.

  “What happened with the hairdressers?” Tim said.

  “They’re closed. Waste of money.” She watched the taxi pull away.

  “Mrs. Burke this is a little awkward, I have clients here,” Tim said under his breath.

  “What do you expect me to do, go for a walk around the block? This is still my home.”

  “It’s alright, we don’t mind,” Armour said. The woman turned to Armour and cocked her head.

  “Thank you,” she said sarcastically and went through the side door into the house and disappeared.

  Tim looked at him and smiled nervously. “Sorry about this. This always happens with these old broads.”

  “You better watch she doesn’t hear you.”

  He waved his hand. “No matter. Let’s find Melanie,” he said.

  Tim started for the door and Armour pushed himself past him and came in first.

  “Melanie how are you doing?” he said loudly. “The home owner is here if you have any questions.”

  “I’m in here, Armour,” Melanie said.

  Melanie and Mrs. Burke were in the living room.

  “This is your fiancé?” Mrs. Burke said as Armour came into the room, Tim trailing behind him.

  “Yes, luckiest man in the world,” Melanie said and laughed as Mrs. Burke smirked. Melanie had worked her charm in under thirty seconds. But did she have the files? Armour stared at her until she looked over and winked. Armour moved towards the front door.

  “Melanie we should be going.”

  Tim pleaded with the widow. “Mrs. Burke please, I want to show these clients your house. Can’t you go out onto the back porch for five minutes.”

  The woman looked put out and to prove it sat her rump down on her own settee.

  “No, no, don’t be silly,” Melanie said. She gave Tim Stevens a mean stare and he was taken aback. “We like the house but I honestly don’t think it’s for us. Not big enough. We’re expecting a family soon.”

  “We are?” Armour said then remembered the ruse. “I mean, yes we are.”

  “My husband and I raised our two daughters here. House was big enough for us,” Mrs. Burke said.

  Melanie said, “Well you know how it is these days. Anyways, as Armour said we should be going.”

  “Armour?” Mrs. Burke said and looked at him. My god she’s going to recognize me. “What kind of name is that?”

  “It’s Irish I think,” Armour said.

  Mrs. Burke grunted and looked away. Armour had the front door open and nodded goodbyes and was out of the house. Melanie came out after him thirty seconds later and paused at the open door.

  “Thank you again, Tim, Mrs. Burke. It was nice meeting you and good luck with the sale.” she said and closed the door.

  “That was rude,” she said as they hustled down to her car.

  “What was?”

  “Bolting like that.”

  “Melanie, that’s the woman I spoke with, she knows my name.”

  “You heard her, she doesn’t remember you. That t-shirt worked.”

  “Let’s get the heck out of here.”

  They waited until they were in the car and a block away before discussing how Melanie made out.

  “It’s dusty in there. I saw this huge spider, made me scream. Did you hear me?”

  “No, not out in the garage.”

  “Thank god.”

  “So?” Armour said.

  She nodded her head at the back seat where her oversized shoulder bag was. Armour could see the corner of a manila envelope poking up.

  “Atta girl,” Armour said.

  23

  “I
see what you mean,” Melanie said. They were back at her place going through the files. They were spread out on her coffee table and she had poured her and Armour a glass of a Chilean carmenere.

  “These aren’t photo copies, these are the real deal,” she said taking a sip of wine.

  Armour came out of the bathroom adjusting his tie. He felt more relaxed now, having shed the garish red t-shirt which was folded and sitting on Melanie’s bed. She had told Armour to put it in there and he had paused, only briefly to look around her bedroom. What a mess, he had thought. Clothes strewn everywhere and a pile of paperbacks two feet high on the night stand. There were shelves filled with stuffed animals and puppets and they cast a disapproving eye down at Armour so he left.

  “He wouldn’t have been allowed to take those home no matter how decorated a detective he was,” Armour said.

  “I agree. They’re stamped property of Nanticoke OPP detachment.”

  First thing he showed Melanie was the reference to Eastman Lake Steel plant and the fact that at some point Burke had gone out there to talk to someone.

  “Look here,” Armour said. “This makes sense now. Look at what Burke wrote here.” It was a scrawl on the official OPP stationery.

  “Does that look like Bill Powers and there’s a license plate number after it?”

  Melanie took the sheet of paper from Armour and scrutinized it. “Sure does,” she said.

  “The foreman remembered the cops coming out to talk to Powers.”

  Melanie pulled a stack of loose leaf paper from the file and started going through it.

  “What’s this?”

  “Not sure.”

  “Didn’t you go through it when you were in Mrs. Burke’s house?”

  “I had little time there, couldn’t spend all day. I thought that I would be able to go back or at some point ask her for the files.”

  “And now we have them,” Melanie said as she flipped through the pages. “These are just notes that Burke made. They’re not on OPP stationery. Look at this.”

  She moved closer on the couch to Armour to show him one page.

  “He’s written a name here. Sanders. Who is Sanders?” Melanie said.

  “No idea, never heard that name before.” Armour took out the list of employees that Johnny Pops had given him and scanned through it. “No Sanders on this list,” he said.

  “What’s it say about him? The writing is a mess,” Melanie said.

  “You’re assuming it’s a him.”

  “Right, we don’t know. It says run down KA on Sanders, cross with Truscott. Sounds like another suspect.”

  “Or another victim.”

  “Yeah. KA, means known associates,” Melanie said. Armour looked at her funny and she shrugged. “I watch a lot of TV so sue me.”

  Lightning cracked outside and the power went out. Melanie let out a little yelp and Armour put his hand on hers for a moment there in the dark on her couch. Their eyes became adjusted. There was another crack of lightning and a split second later a rolling thunderclap.

  “You could search for someone named Sanders. On your computer,” Armour suggested.

  “Not now I can’t.”

  “No, not in the dark?”

  “No, I mean not without wifi. Power’s out, my modem is out, no internet.”

  “Oh, I see.”

  “I should get some candles.” She got up and moved away into the darkness of another room. She came back with a glowing candle that cast her face in an angelic light.

  “Help me here, get some saucers from the kitchen.”

  Melanie and Armour placed three burning candles around the room but the light they gave was not enough to go on reading. The downpour continued. Armour went to the window and looked down at his car parked in front of Melanie’s building. He could see the torrential rain pounding the windows and roof and cowling and side boards. Drops as big as quarters were bouncing a foot in the air. A torrent of water was barreling down Melanie’s street, splashing up against Armour’s tires.

  “My god,” Armour said. “It’s a flash flood almost. I can’t drive home in that.”

  “So, stay,” Melanie said and she came up behind him and put her hand on his back.

  He turned to her and she was right there. He could feel the peach fuzz on her cheek and wondered if his rough shaven face would excite or repulse her. He got his answer, she turned her head an inch and they kissed. Armour could taste the wine and stir fry she had cooked up for them earlier. Her tongue flicked out a little and he pulled back, straightened up and stepped away.

  Then he came back to her. She was looking out the window and had crossed her arms in front of her.

  “Melanie.”

  Melanie straightened herself and went back to the couch. “Do you think this Burke was a respectable, professional man?”

  As quick as it had come on the downpour ceased. All that was left was the tick ticking of raindrops running through the eaves trough run off. Or was it the pounding of his heart?

  “I wouldn’t know. I would think so. You don’t get to become a member of a detective squad without having some sense of professionalism.” Then the image of Detective Bain Henderson hanging on to that grass with desperation just before he fell to his death flashed through Armour’s mind. “Your wife, I know who killed her.” were his last words. He knew that he was giving Burke more credit than was due.

  “I don’t see what you’re getting at,” Armour said.

  “If that conviction is a house of cards and he beat a confession out of a sixteen-year-old boy, what else is he capable of? Maybe this killer went on killing and to protect his own incompetence Burke let him get away with it. For to find the real killer he would expose his incompetence. You saw how he reacted when DNA cleared the Macintyre boy. I bet he never saw that coming. He went on the warpath.”

  “I know a fella on the force out there. Maybe he’d give me some more background on Burke.”

  “Good, you do that tomorrow and when the internet is back on I’ll check on Sanders, see if I can find anything.”

  Armour stood there shocked at first and then realized she was asking him to leave. Maybe it was for the best. He said he’d leave the files with her, she was more thorough than him obviously. She didn’t see him out, just sat there on the couch sifting through papers though the candle light was still too weak to read by. He paused at the door contemplating whether he should say something. No, he thought and left.

  The streets were dark, the street lights still out. It wasn’t until he was two blocks away that they suddenly came on and the rain stopped all together. Good thing, his little wipers would never handle an onslaught like he had just witnessed.

  24

  “Burke was a good man,” Sergeant Kenny said. Armour had come into the police station in Port Dover at first light and luckily the sergeant was on duty.

  Kenny hadn’t let Armour come in the back but had come around the front and now they were standing in the lobby of the station. It was quiet in there. Armour suspected it was quiet most of the day, probably heated up Friday and Saturday nights like most small towns with bars and blue collars.

  By the way he said good man Armour detected something. Like Kenny wasn’t going to spill the beans on a former colleague to a civilian. A natural front to put up.

  “What is it though?” Armour said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t take this the wrong way but I sense you’re not being straightforward with me.”

  “You’re saying I’m lying? How could I possibly take offense at that? Look, Burke was a good man, his clearance rate was top notch.”

  “Including Truscott?”

  “So, he got that one wrong. I’m not hiding anything, I just resent some amateur coming in here and insinuating something. What exactly are you insinuating?”

  “That Burke was corrupt. What if I told you he broke the rules.”

  “They all do. There’s a line, right. Homicide detectives sometimes cross ov
er it in the pursuit of justice.”

  “Like coercing a confession out of a sixteen-year-old boy?”

  “Like I asked you before, were you there? In the room?”

  “Course not.”

  “Then shut your mouth.”

  Armour was shocked at the tone the conversation had taken. This isn’t what he wanted at all.

  “Sergeant Kenny, I’m sorry if I got off on the wrong foot but a miscarriage of justice was done. That boy did not kill the Truscott girl and now he’s dead.”

  “Dead?”

  “Killed himself, couldn’t bear the shame and humiliation. What was done to him in prison.”

  “Look, Armour. You seem like a nice guy but you’re out of your league here. Sure, whatever happened in that room wasn’t right. It goes down like that sometimes. These detectives they get the blinders on and we’re talking about the death of a fifteen-year-old girl here, the public demanded justice and quickly.”

  “Have there been others though, after Truscott?”

  “Girls go missing from time to time, it’s normal. Some are runaways. Some get killed.”

  “That’s a little cavalier.”

  “It’s reality. Been happening forever.”

  “Is the Truscott case still open?”

  “It’s open but there’s no one working it. Except you, I guess. I have to get back to work.”

  Armour watched Kenny disappear into the back of the station. There was a cork board near the entrance to the detachment. It had posters and bulletins on it. A black and white photo of a young girl caught Armour’s eye and he went over.

  Missing: fourteen-year-old Natalie Rickover, last seen six years ago. Presumed to have run away from home. If anyone has seen her or knows of her whereabouts contact police.

  Armour looked around, tempted to take the poster with him. The constable at the desk had his back to Armour. Then Armour saw the rectangular black box, the camera pointed at him and wrote down the girl’s name instead before he left.

  25

  Cathy opened the door a crack and Armour was shocked at the brutality. Her eye was a massive bruise and welt.