by Ken Ogilvie
“What do you mean exactly?”
“Just that they’ve been partners in many deals around the world. They’re ruthless when it comes to their interests, which are money, money, and more money.” Hound was breathing hard.
Even the mention of his father seemed to distress him. Rebecca moved on. “One thing that interests me is why Abigail changed her name, and why she chose Abigail and Smith?”
Hound grunted. “She chose Smith because it’s a common name. Marijke wanted to be inconspicuous. She chose Abigail to get back at her family for rejecting her. Abigail means ‘my father rejoices.’ You’ll soon see the irony.”
“Go on, please.”
He sighed and massaged his temples for a few seconds. “Like I said, I met Marijke in Amsterdam. I was only eight years old and she was nineteen, but we hit it off immediately. Marijke showed me around the city, and we had a great time together. We wrote to each other after the trip, up until she left home for Canada. Anyway, despite my young age, my eyes were opened to both of our fathers’ dubious activities. I had never been close to any of my family, my father, my mother, or my younger brother, who was my father’s favourite. Marijke understood all this. She was in a similar situation. Her parents ignored her, and she had a monster of a younger sister. Both our families expected the eldest children to take up positions in the family empires, but Marijke and I were disappointments, especially me. We asked too many awkward questions, we knew what it was like to be given the cold shoulder by your own flesh and blood.”
“So that’s the bond.” Rebecca welcomed Hound opening up about his own life.
“In part,” he said. “But there’s more to it than that. I came to Canada two years after my trip to Amsterdam, when I was ten. Back in England, there was an incident at my public school that gave my father a perfect excuse to get rid of me. He told me I was an embarrassment to the family and packed me off to Lakefield, Ontario.”
Hound clenched his fists. He must really hate his father, Rebecca thought. She wondered what Richard Hounsley was like. Her father was tough, but he had never actually rejected her. She changed the subject.
“What happened to Marijke?”
“She came here a year before I did. When I arrived at Lakefield, she was waiting for me. She’d come to Canada to be with Kingsley McBride. She told me the details when I was older. He’d struck a business deal of some sort with her father in Amsterdam and she was introduced to him there. Three weeks after she met Kingsley, he asked her to marry him. She refused. She’d just turned twenty, and she told me later that she was in love with another man. After Kingsley returned to Canada, her parents told her it would be better if she didn’t stay in the Netherlands. Then her lover broke things off with her. Maybe marrying Kingsley offered her a way to leave the country with her pride intact. Anyway, she accepted his proposal, with one condition. She wanted to live in Toronto for two years before coming to Conroy. Even then, she didn’t marry him for another four years after she got here.” He paused and took a deep breath.
“But why was she waiting for you at Lakefield?” Rebecca could see him withdrawing, and she wanted to hear the rest.
He looked at her. “Because we were good friends, and she wanted to look after me like a younger brother, but there was no way that my father would allow it. Marijke wrote to him, and he refused outright.”
Hound’s face was turning red and blotchy, and Rebecca began to worry about him.
“I know this is hard for you, Hound, but please don’t stop. Just a little more, please.” She felt bad about pushing him, but she was sure he had important things he could tell her. She was building up more and more of a picture of Abigail’s complicated past.
He swallowed audibly and continued. “At Lakefield, Marijke told me she’d agreed to marry Kingsley. I had never met him, so I couldn’t say much about it. I was just happy to see my only true friend again. She tried to persuade me to move closer to her, but I decided not to. Years later, I met an old Jesuit priest in Lakefield. I talked to him about it and he convinced me to change my mind. I came here a year after Abigail married Kingsley.” Hound’s shoulders sagged.
“Hound, is there anything you can tell me that might shed light on her death?” Rebecca didn’t want him to stop, but his expression was so utterly forlorn that her heart melted. She knew how it felt to lose someone close. This would be her last question.
“I can’t tell you anything. Abigail was my dearest friend, the only one I could share things with. I miss hearing her voice and helping comfort her. She never had a chance to be happy.” Hound got to his feet and wandered about the room.
Was that it? She had gained some new information about Abigail, but nothing that advanced her investigation, as far as she could tell. Hound could have told her more, she was convinced, but she didn’t want to press him any harder. Had he been in love with Abigail? And what might that mean? A motive for murder? Unlikely, perhaps, but something else to ponder.
“Thank you, Hound. Let’s leave it there for now.”
He slumped back onto his chair. “Thanks. I’ve had enough. I’ll walk to town with you. I visit Abigail’s grave every day to put flowers on it.” Tears pooled in his eyes and he blinked rapidly.
“I’d like that, Hound.” She put away her notebook. When she stood to leave, her eyes, too, were moist.
Hound rose to his feet, and they walked to town in silence.
“Tomorrow evening at seven,” Rebecca said when they arrived.
Hound nodded and trudged slowly away as Rebecca thought about the complex webs of relationships that stretched over Conroy, and beyond. Surely somewhere within it was an answer.
Chapter 12
It’s two in the morning and I just can’t sleep — I’m on a total high! DI Cartwright gave a great presentation today on a murder case he solved. He knows so much I can hardly believe it, he’s amazing. I stayed after class and talked to him and told him about how I want to become a homicide detective. He seemed really interested!
— The diary of Rebecca Sarah Bradley (2003)
Rebecca headed to the Royal Oak Hotel to reserve a table for the following day. Maggie had told her it was the second-best dining place in town. Duffy’s only served breakfast and lunch, and Maggie hadn’t even mentioned Robbie’s. Rebecca suspected that she and Robbie had fallen out.
The people on Main avoided eye contact, except for a guy who ogled her from across the street. It was the jerk from the Buick again. She observed him more closely now. A bulky thug with a buzz cut, a mean-looking mouth and cold eyes. She tried to ignore him but it was hard to dismiss the malice in that look and the fear he struck into her.
The hotel lobby was gloomy and dingy. A cheap paisley carpet covered a creaky wooden floor. The walls were pasted with filthy red velvet paper, and a stale and musty odour pervaded the place. But the perky young blonde standing behind the scratched front desk was quite a contrast. She flashed a smile that lit up the hotel and suddenly it felt like a wonderful place.
“Hi, miss. What can I do for you today?” The smile grew even brighter.
Rebecca smiled back. “I’m here to reserve a dinner table for tomorrow. Should I go to the dining room?” She felt like hugging this warm and friendly creature, especially after the cold reception she’d been getting in the rest of Conroy.
“No need for that, I can do it. Is it in the name of Rebecca Bradley?”
She raised her eyebrows. “News travels fast.”
“I’m Sally Partridge, Chief O’Reilly’s assistant.”
“Oh, that explains it.” The thought of O’Reilly wiped the smile from Rebecca’s face.
“Not entirely. You’re the talk of the town. We don’t get much excitement around here so a new face is always a big event, especially when it’s a detective from Orillia.” Sally looked impressed.
“I’ll bet you already know I’m just an acting detective.” Rebecca raised her eyebrows, smiling again.
“As far as I’m concerned, you’re
the real thing. Chief O’Reilly spoke well of you — kind of.” Sally giggled. Rebecca burst out laughing.
“It’s true. He said you’re almost like a breath of fresh air. For him that’s quite a compliment. He did take a few cheap shots at you, but nothing like Cartwright. He sure didn’t take to him.”
“I’ll say. Cartwright is a stuffed shirt, but he’s a good cop. You know he’s the regional superintendent now?” Rebecca was forced to stick up for him — she needed his support.
“Oh, yes. The chief nearly exploded when he told me. I’ve never seen him so angry. He’s a volatile guy, but he’s never held a grudge like that before.”
“As far as I can see, both of them did a decent job last year. It must be a personal thing.”
Sally lowered her voice and glanced around the lobby. “Has anything new come up in the case?”
“Perhaps. But I don’t have time to talk about it now. Can you meet me later?” Sally might know more about O’Reilly than anyone else in Conroy. She might also know lots about the strange cast of characters who inhabited this forgotten town.
“I’m off for lunch in half an hour. We could talk then, if you’re not busy.”
“Perfect. Here?” Rebecca nodded towards the dining room.
“Better not. The walls have ears. The best place is Duffy’s. There’s a corner booth where nobody will overhear us. And Daisy makes great soup.”
“Done. See you there. Meanwhile, can you book a table for two at seven p.m. tomorrow? Try for one where the walls are sound-proofed.”
“I have just the spot. It’s the mayor’s favourite nook. All the secret deals are done there. They turn the microphones off at night.”
“By the way, who is the mayor of Conroy? Constable O’Reilly told me, but his name didn’t stick.”
“Charlie Taylor. He’s the father of a miserable brute named Butch.” Sally curled her lip.
Rebecca inhaled sharply. “What does he look like?”
“Mean. Buzz cut. Brawny. Stay away from him.”
Rebecca sighed. “It might be a bit late for that. He’s got to be the nasty-looking guy outside. He stared at me when I was coming in here, and yesterday he made a disgusting gesture.”
Sally moved from behind the desk and peered through the hotel entrance. “That’s Butch all right.” She yelled through the door, “Get lost,” and then turned back to Rebecca with a grimace on her face. “He’s a real pig, and a sleaze too. Doesn’t work at all, at least nothing honest. Hangs out at Georgie’s Pub when he’s in town. He spends the rest of his time intimidating people on Main Street. He steers clear of O’Reilly though. He’s wary of the chief, so he leaves me alone, but the looks he gives me freeze my bones. He frightens almost everyone in town. Even his father gets nervous around him. The only person Butch is afraid of is a guy called Hound. You’ve met him, I believe.”
“That’s interesting. Why Hound?”
The phone rang and Sally moved to answer it. “I’ll tell you over lunch.”
“Okay. Thanks, Sally. See you at Duffy’s.”
Rebecca left the hotel. Across the street, Butch leaned against a building, and watched her like a hungry dog. She hurried on towards Duffy’s, avoiding eye contact.
Intrigued by what Sally had just told her, Rebecca wondered about Hound. So many things in the McBride case seemed to revolve around that young giant. Perhaps too many. Maggie was right, he was a mysterious figure. O’Reilly called him special, and he certainly had artistic talent. She wondered what other secrets lay beneath that massive exterior.
At Duffy’s, Daisy beamed at Rebecca from behind the counter. “Welcome, Officer Bradley. You’re becoming a regular. You take your coffee black, right? But I’m guessing you’re here for something else now — my famous soup. Even Maggie comes in for a bowl from time to time and that’s a real compliment.”
“Actually, the receptionist at the Royal Oak recommended it.”
“Sally Partridge, my best referral agent. She’s addicted to my soup. Let me guess. She’s joining you for lunch?” Daisy looked pleased. “Now sit down and I’ll bring you a cup of freshly brewed coffee.” She reached for a mug.
“You’re a mind reader. Is everyone here as gifted as you?”
“You bet. Well, maybe not Shorty and Lukas over there. Good thing they’ve got Hound to look out for them. I don’t know how they’d cope otherwise. Probably kill each other arguing about something important, like who ate more doughnuts yesterday.”
They were huddled over a small table, spitting words at each other. Shorty swished his arms about, and she wondered why Hound was so attached to them, given their apparent simplicity and his obvious talents. But then she recalled Abigail’s layers of complexity and started to wonder if Shorty and Lukas had their own surprises to unveil.
Rebecca shook her head and went to the corner booth that she guessed Sally had in mind. Daisy arrived right behind her, coffee in hand. Rebecca smiled. “Thanks, Daisy.” She continued to study Shorty and Lukas. They caught her looking, forgot their battle and stared back at her. Feeling silly, she gave a little wave, which Shorty returned.
She turned away and glanced out the window. Butch was slouching against a building across the street, glaring at her again. She looked down, her heart beating fast. When she raised her eyes, he had gone, and she saw Hound tramping past. Interesting that Butch had scarpered out of his way.
Sally entered Duffy’s, and headed for the booth. She called out, “Soup for two!”
Rebecca smiled at her. “Ready for the interrogation?”
Sally took in a breath. “Yup.”
Rebecca drew out her notebook. “First, tell me about Butch and Hound. What happened between them?”
Sally looked thoughtful. “I didn’t see what happened, but people told me about it. About nine months ago, Hound was taking a walk along Hagger’s Creek. Butch came out of the bushes and blocked his path. He taunted Hound and tried to pick a fight. Instead of cowering like most people here, Hound stared him down. Then he grabbed hold of him and threw him into the creek. Butch crawled out and slunk away. Since then, Hound’s been our hero, and Butch has been a bit quieter. I don’t think it’ll put him off for good though. He loves looking for trouble. My advice is to avoid him, although it’s not easy in this little town. Fortunately, he goes off somewhere for weeks at a time. I don’t know where.”
“Thanks, Sally. He gives me the creeps. He followed me here after I left the hotel, then Hound showed up and he disappeared.”
Sally frowned. “Be careful. Don’t let him get anywhere near you, especially if you’re alone. Make sure he sees you speaking to Hound. And tell O’Reilly he’s been stalking you.”
“Good advice. Though I’m sure I can handle him if I need to. I’m trained for that sort of thing. Now let’s talk about Hound. He’s such an unusual guy, and he’s got so many sides to him — tracker, landowner, bully fighter. Can you tell me anything about his life before he came to Conroy?”
“Nothing much, except that his family must be loaded. O’Reilly told me you went to his house.”
“I did. It was really impressive. I’d like to know more about it, but that can wait. I also want to hear anything you can tell me about Abigail McBride.”
Sally paused for a moment. “All I know is that she was a quiet woman, and Kingsley’s wife.”
“And Herman Vogel?”
Sally shook her head and shrugged. “Sorry, I’m not being much help. I don’t really pay attention to what goes on in Conroy. Mom calls me flighty. Chief O’Reilly just laughs it off. Without him, I would never have held down a job, even in this town.” Rebecca’s heart went out to her. It must be pretty boring being stuck here.
She put her notebook aside. “Okay. One more question. Maggie Delaney. What about her? When did she move here?”
“Very little again. Not doing well, am I?” Sally sighed. “Anyway, Maggie came here about fifteen years ago and moved straight into that big house. Must’ve had piles of money to a
fford it, not to mention all the improvements she’s made. I’ve been there a few times with Chief O’Reilly. He told me the house used to belong to a rich old man who moved to Conroy two or three decades ago. I can’t remember his name, just that he peddled goldmining shares.”
Rebecca’s stomach lurched. “Where did Maggie come from?”
“Some mining town in northern Ontario, I think,” Sally replied.
Rebecca stared at her. “You sure about that?”
“Yes, O’Reilly told me. Why? You’ve gone pale.”
“Was it a town called Prospect?”
“That’s it, I think.”
Rebecca was silent.
“Penny for your thoughts.” Sally looked puzzled.
Rebecca grimaced. “Do you believe in fate?”
“Haven’t given it much thought. You okay? You look all shaken.”
“It’s really bizarre. I came here to investigate a homicide, and now I’ve run into a mystery that looks like it ties back to me, or at least to my family. I’m from Prospect.” Rebecca stared into space.
Sally wriggled in her seat. “Wow! That’s so strange! They do say fate works in mysterious ways.”
Rebecca looked at her. “Please don’t tell O’Reilly I’m investigating anything beyond the homicide. He’s giving me a tough enough time as it is.”
“Don’t worry, I can be discreet. Working in a police office has taught me that, at least.”
“Thank you, Sally.”
Daisy arrived with soup and side salads. They ate their meal in a comfortable silence.
Sally had to leave but Rebecca stayed behind, deep in thought. She felt she’d made a friend in Sally. And she needed her help. The townsfolk would know and trust her - how could they not? That could be invaluable. Rebecca groaned inwardly. She still had nothing concrete to go on, and was beginning to understand the lack of clues the original investigation had turned up. Now she had learned about a goldmining scam linked to Prospect, and almost certainly to her family. She was eager to know more. But first she had a murder to solve.