Her Dark Path

by Ken Ogilvie

  Kingsley spoke slowly, emphasizing every word. “Pack your bags, Freddie. Go to bed. Set your alarm for three a.m. Leave the house and walk along Main, towards the Trans-Canada. Perez or one of his men will pick you up. That’s it. No more discussion.” The line went dead.

  Freddie’s gut churned. Who could he turn to? Archie? After all, they had boarded together for seven years.

  He peered out the window at Archie, still sitting down below. He had to find out how much that crafty Scot knew. He left his room and crept past Rebecca’s door. She was talking to someone — the police, probably. He tiptoed along the corridor, slunk downstairs, and slipped out the door.

  Archie hailed him from his chair. “Freddie, poor laddie. Yer in a wee spot o’ trouble, are ye not?”

  * * *

  Kingsley hung up the phone and swore.

  “Well?” said Perez.

  “You heard Freddie. He’s caving in. We’ll have to take care of him.”

  “I will talk to Guido.”

  “Don’t kill him. Hide him somewhere safe until we decide on our next move. Guido can pick him up, but make sure he stays healthy. I don’t want any unnecessary deaths.”

  “He is a threat. He will disappear, permanently.” Perez gave Kingsley a hard stare.

  “No! I want to hold on to him for a while. Another death here will draw too much attention from the police. He has to leave Conroy now, though. He’s unstable.”

  “Consider it done.” Perez settled into the armchair and drew on his cigar.

  Kingsley took a breath. “Our next problem is someone called Sykes, who heads up the Criminal Investigation Branch. He’s looking into Herman Vogel’s murder. I don’t know what to do about him.”

  Perez grunted. “That is another matter. I will talk to my associates. Killing this Sykes is not an option. We don’t touch the police. They’d be down on us big time. I will look for another way to deal with him.”

  Kingsley thought he saw a shadow cross Perez’s face. Fear? “Just take care of it, Perez, and soon. Sykes is a serious threat. We also have to do something about this woman detective. She’s close to figuring everything out. How do we handle her?”

  “I have never heard of any woman. Tell me more.” Perez casually swept cigar ash from the mahogany table onto Kingsley’s precious Aubusson carpet.

  “She’s been in town for the past week, conducting a follow-up investigation into my wife’s murder. I’ve managed to avoid her so far, but I can’t put her off any longer. And there’s a complication. She’s the daughter of George Bradley, my partner in the gold mine.”

  Perez shot upright. “Why did you not tell me this before, McBride?”

  “I didn’t know about it until yesterday.”

  Perez stubbed out his cigar on the table. “You know I want in on the mine deal too.”

  “Sorry, Perez, no can do. Bradley would never allow it. Anyway, I have all the money I need. He’s only putting up the mining expertise.”

  “We will discuss this matter another time, McBride. I will get Guido to take Freddie somewhere safe. If he does not show his face tonight, Guido will do something permanent.” Perez patted Kingsley on the knee.

  Kingsley wasn’t reassured. “Okay. Just let me know first thing tomorrow about Freddie. I’ll sleep better when I know he’s out of the way.”

  But there was worse to come. “The guy Freddie spoke about on the telephone, this Archie. I will take care of him too.”

  “Absolutely not,” Kingsley snapped. “He’s working for Bradley. Leave him alone.” He reminded himself to call his half-brother, Tony, and ask him to please rein in Perez.

  “It is your call, McBride, but do not leave loose ends. My associates would not like it.”

  Perez got up and left the room. Kingsley heard a car door slam and the limo backed out of the driveway.

  Kingsley ground his teeth. By now the police would know about the land deal and the mine. He would tell them Perez was just another investor, like the van Rijns. Perez should be able to handle the money laundering. After Freddie, there would only be Mayor Taylor and O’Reilly to worry about, and they were too deeply implicated to talk. But Kingsley was puzzled. He’d been certain that Perez, or more likely his bodyguard Guido, had killed Abigail, and then Herman too, but Perez had denied it, and Kingsley believed him. He knew Perez better now. The moron would have bragged about it. Abigail must have committed suicide, despite the coroner’s report. But then how did she get back to their house? Surely Perez wouldn’t have done that. Kingsley thought about it for a moment, then shrugged it off. He had other things to think about.

  He switched off the lamp. He always thought more clearly in the dark. Seconds later, though, the door creaked open and Jackie Caldwell slid into the living room. How long had she been there? Had she overheard?

  He’d come to dread that husky voice. “Kingsley, I have to go now, but I need you tonight.” She touched the nape of his neck, and his skin crawled.

  “Good, dear,” he mumbled. “You just go on ahead. I have a lot to think about.”

  “Come to my house at midnight, Kingsley. Don’t be late.” She gave a little wave and slipped away.

  Kingsley put his head in his hands. How had he ever let himself get trapped by that harpy? More to the point, how would he ever get rid of her?

  Chapter 28

  Jonathan wants to be with me every weekend, but I can’t do it. I have to study. And it’s getting way too risky. Sooner or later someone will catch us. I can’t afford that, it could cost me my career. His too, but he doesn’t seem to care. I really shouldn’t have got involved with him.

  — The diary of Rebecca Sarah Bradley (2003)

  Rebecca scooped up her notebook and hurried downstairs to meet Archie. She opened the back door and saw a dark figure leaning over Archie’s chair, hunched like a vampire. She called out, “Hey! Who’s that?”

  The figure straightened. Rebecca saw something metallic glint in the moonlight, and then the shadow was gone, over the fence and into the murky forest beyond.

  Rebecca ran across to Archie’s chair and looked down in horror. Dark stains covered his shirt, and blood was dripping onto the ground beneath the chair. Archie’s throat had been slashed.

  He made a slight movement. Thank God, he was still alive.

  Rebecca pulled out a handkerchief, pressed it tightly against the wound, and screamed for help. Maggie hurtled from the house, followed by Freddie.

  Rebecca looked up at them. “Quick! Call an ambulance.”

  Freddie dashed back, while Maggie remained behind, staring down and frozen in shock.

  Archie was fading fast. “Don’t try to move,” Rebecca urged. “We’re getting help.” She pressed harder. The wound didn’t feel deep, but there was also a nasty gash at the back of his head. She didn’t dare think what would have happened had she not interrupted.

  When the ambulance arrived, Rebecca went with Archie and called Sykes along the way. She told him what had happened, and then asked him to meet her at the hospital.

  When she got there, Sykes was waiting at the hospital entrance, with a concerned look on his face.

  “What happened, Rebecca?”

  “It’s Archie MacDougall. Someone tried to kill him. He lives at Maggie Delaney’s — the place I’m boarding at. He was sitting outside near the back fence, waiting for me to interview him. I came out of the house and saw someone standing by his chair. I yelled, and the attacker jumped the fence and escaped into the woods.”

  “Would you recognize him again?”

  “Too dark. I couldn’t see clearly. And his, or perhaps her, face was covered.”

  “How tall?”

  “Five foot eight, more or less.”

  Sykes nodded. “Okay. I’ll take a look at the scene and post an officer there overnight. We’ll come back in the morning and make a full examination in daylight.”

  “Does that mean I can help?” Rebecca crossed her fingers behind her back.

  “Yes. You
’re on the McBride and Vogel cases now, under my direction.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Rebecca looked at him, searching for signs of annoyance, but his expression was neutral.

  “How’s Archie doing?” A note of stress crept into Sykes’ voice.

  “He’s still unconscious. I’ll wait at the hospital and let you know how it goes.”

  Sykes waggled his head. “You look shaken, Constable Bradley. And you’re covered in blood. Where’s O’Reilly? He can guard Archie.”

  “I dropped him at his house a couple of hours ago.”

  “Strange. I called his office and his home. I left messages at both places, but there was no reply.”

  “Leave it to me, sir. I’ll have someone find him.”

  “Okay. When you do, tell him to show up at the office tomorrow morning at six. We’ll need his help. The team will meet then. That includes you.”

  “Will do, sir.”

  Sykes stared after the fast-disappearing stretcher that nurses and doctors were rushing off to surgery, holding tubes and a drip stand. He turned and trudged away. Rebecca watched him go, intrigued by his noticeable concern for Archie.

  She found a washroom and attempted to wipe off the blood. Then she checked on Archie’s condition, but there was no news yet. She called O’Reilly at his home number, and then Sally, who still had his cell phone. Sally didn’t know where he was at.

  Rebecca called the OPP office in Orillia and arranged for extra police support to be sent to the hospital. She wouldn’t tell Sykes about it until she found out where O’Reilly was at. Then she laughed to herself. She was becoming O’Reilly’s protector again. It was turning into a habit.

  Then she called Hound and told him what had happened. He agreed to watch over Archie until the police got there.

  * * *

  Hound arrived at the hospital, looking anxious. His voice was strained. “Rebecca, you okay?”

  “Fine, Hound, just a little rattled.”

  “How’s Archie?”

  “He’s in a coma. They’re consulting a trauma specialist in Toronto. The doctors don’t want to move him until they get an expert opinion.”

  “It’s lucky you got to him when you did.”

  “I just wish I’d got there earlier and prevented the attack.” Why the heck had she called Cartwright first? She should have interviewed Archie straight away.

  “If you hadn’t stopped the attacker tonight, he might have tried again when you weren’t around to help,” said Hound. “You’re a hero, Rebecca.”

  “I sure don’t feel like one, and there’s something that’s worrying me. The assault happened less than an hour after I was telling Maggie, Freddie and Archie about the McBride case. As soon as we finished, I heard Freddie on the phone with someone. Do you think he could be involved? I’ll ask DI Sykes to trace that call. And I’m wondering whether the assault on Archie could be linked to Abigail’s murder.” All the possible ramifications were making her mind spin.

  Hound shook his head. “I don’t think so. I still believe that Abigail killed herself. Who would want to murder her? I’ve thought hard about it, and I can’t come up with a single person.”

  “I’m sorry, Hound, but the coroner’s report is clear. It wasn’t suicide. I have to accept that, unless I find evidence to the contrary. By the way, Sykes is leading both investigations, and I’m on his team. At least they haven’t sent me back to Orillia.”

  Chapter 29

  Freddie sat on the edge of his bed. He’d tried, and failed, to get to sleep. The shock of the attack on Archie had begun to wear off, and now he was angry. Damn Kingsley for enticing him into his shady deals. Now he was setting him up as a murderer. Freddie had no idea what to do about it.

  What did he really know about Kingsley anyway? They had never even spoken to each other, and then Kingsley began asking him to do odd jobs for him, mostly courier work, taking packages to Orillia and sometimes all the way to Toronto. Easy money, straight up, or so he thought. A short while later Kingsley told him about the subdivision deal and said he could make real money if he agreed to run secret errands to Hamilton. Kingsley was a respected local accountant, so Freddie thought everything must be above-board. Then that lousy criminal Perez appeared on the scene and Freddie started to worry. And now he was supposed to run away with the slime-ball!

  Freddie got up and packed a bag. Just before three a.m. he snuck past Rebecca’s room and tiptoed downstairs.

  A crescent moon threw a dim light across Main. Freddie trudged along until he saw Perez’s shiny black limo parked ahead of him. The headlights flashed on and off. Freddie drew in a deep breath and approached the car.

  His feeble greeting evaporated when he saw Guido’s face.

  “Put your seatbelt on, chump.”

  Freddie’s chest constricted but he got in and buckled up. The limo rolled forward and headed north to the Trans-Canada.

  “Where are you taking me?” Freddie’s throat was dry and his voice cracked.

  There was no reply.

  They motored along the Trans-Canada for about twenty minutes, then Guido swerved off the highway and drove along a county road. A short distance along, he turned into a narrow driveway and came to a stop in front of a rustic wooden shack, standing in the canopy of an umbrella-like tree.

  “Get out,” Guido growled. He lumbered towards the shack, with Freddie stumbling along behind him. Guido unlocked the door, pushed it open and switched on the lights. Freddie followed him through a galley kitchen to a large sitting room in back. He staggered over to a faded leather couch and lay there, terrified about what would happen next.

  Chapter 30

  A crazy thing happened today. Jonathan proposed. I didn’t expect it. I’ve been trying to tell him I want to break up. There are things about him that are amazing, but he gets so jealous and I’ve sometimes seen a spiteful side to him. I should have said no, but I was confused and shocked. I told him I needed time to think about it.

  — The diary of Rebecca Sarah Bradley (2003)

  Leaving Hound to keep watch at the hospital, Rebecca drove to O’Reilly’s house and knocked on the front door. There was no answer. She went to the side door and tried again. No go. She gave up and returned to Maggie’s.

  Maggie was standing in the hall outside her bedroom, rubbing her eyes. Rebecca hugged her. “Sorry, Maggie, no news about Archie yet.” She steered Maggie back to bed and tucked her in, then kissed her on the forehead and turned out the lights.

  She stopped outside Freddie’s door to listen. All was silent. He was probably asleep. Rebecca decided to question him first thing in the morning. Continuing to her room, she set the alarm for five a.m., but she awoke before it went off. She called O’Reilly’s home but got another voicemail. That was strange, and worrisome. Dressing quickly, she went to Freddie’s room and knocked on the door. When there was no answer, she opened it and peeked inside. No Freddie. Perplexed, she left Maggie’s and drove to O’Reilly’s house. Heavy pounding on his front door caused the neighbours to pull their curtains aside and peer out. Rebecca ignored them and kept banging. Finally she heard someone shuffling towards the door.

  “Open up, O’Reilly.”

  “Get lost.” His voice was slurred. So that was it. Irish whiskey, no doubt.

  “Just unlock it. I’ll let myself in. We have to meet DI Sykes in half an hour.”

  “S’unlocked.”

  So the stupid door had been unlocked all the time. Rebecca cursed herself for not trying it.

  “I’m in.”

  “Hear you. No need to yell,” O’Reilly was in the bathroom. “Make yourself a coffee, whatever.”

  “Thanks. Take a cold shower and put your uniform on. Don’t waste a second. Sykes won’t like it if we’re late.”

  “Humph.”

  She went into the kitchen. To her surprise, it was neat and tidy. The breakfast table was clean, the counters empty of clutter. Maybe he used a maid service.

  Rebecca loaded the coffee maker. Curiou
s, she headed to the living room. It was tastefully decorated, furnished with a new couch and matching leather armchair. A finely woven Turkish rug covered the cheap hardwood floor and original artwork adorned the walls. She frowned.

  O’Reilly soon emerged fully dressed from the bathroom. Rebecca thrust a mug of strong coffee at him and steered him to her car. As she drove, she told him about the attack on Archie.

  O’Reilly groaned. “Why didn’t you come in and wake me? Now Cartwright has even more reason to fire me. Missing during a homicide investigation, and pissed to the gills when Archie was attacked. I’m toast.”

  “Clam up, O’Reilly,” Rebecca said. “Just stay a safe distance from Sykes so he doesn’t smell the alcohol.”

  She pulled up outside the station at six a.m. sharp. Now she had to think up a credible excuse for their absence yesterday, while keeping O’Reilly well away from Sykes. She just wished the chief’s eyes weren’t so bloodshot.

  Sykes was accompanied by his favourite detectives, Chad and Hadi. Five chairs had been arranged in a circle. Rebecca sat O’Reilly down on the opposite side from Sykes.

  Sykes regarded O’Reilly and raised an eyebrow. “Cute little town you’ve got here, Constable.” He turned to Rebecca. “Okay, Officer Bradley, start us off. Superintendent Cartwright said you emailed him a report on the McBride investigation last night. I want to see it.” He gave her a reproving look. “But first, tell me what you’ve found out so far, and what your thoughts are.”

  Why did she have to be so nervous? “S-Sir, I think Herman Vogel’s death may be linked to Abigail McBride.”

  “How so?” Sykes leaned forward.

  She told them about the affair between Abigail and Herman, and about the gold mine and land speculation deals. Reluctantly, she mentioned her father’s involvement in the mine. She said she hadn’t spoken to him recently, so she couldn’t provide any details.

  Sykes turned to O’Reilly. “Anything to add?”