by Ken Ogilvie
“Not much, sir. I wasn’t aware of Abigail and Herman’s affair. I just knew they were good friends.” O’Reilly spoke evenly. He said nothing about his own role in Kingsley’s deals. It put Rebecca in an awkward position as she could be accused of withholding information. She glared at O’Reilly.
Sykes turned to her. “How did you find out about Abigail and Herman?”
“I was informed by a man named Hound, sir.”
“Ah, yes. The elusive Mr. Hound. I need to talk to him, but later. After this meeting, we’ll head to the site of the attack. I’ve called in the Orillia Canine Unit to help track the assailant.”
Thankfully, Sykes hadn’t queried her on her father’s involvement in the gold mine. Rebecca wondered why. Did he know about it?
O’Reilly added, “Sir, I recommend we bring Hound along. He’s a brilliant tracker.”
Sykes glared at him, and O’Reilly stared right back. Rebecca knew very few people who were able to lock eyes with Inspector Sykes. The chief had guts.
Sykes relented. “All right, as long as he doesn’t get in the way.” He rose to his feet. The briefing was over.
* * *
Hound arrived at Maggie’s shortly after the team. Sykes extended a hand in greeting.
They made an incongruous pair. Sykes was almost a foot and a half shorter. “Mr. Hound, I’m DI Sykes. Chad Williams and Hadi Jafari are on my homicide team. Bob Ward over there is with the Canine Unit. We’re about to track Archie MacDougall’s assailant. You’re welcome to come along.”
Hound nodded. “Just Hound, sir, not Mr. Hound.”
“Fine.” Sykes regarded him closely, then turned to the dog handler. “Bob will lead the search. Nobody get in his way. If you see anything of interest, just tell him. Bob, we’re in your hands.”
“Thank you, sir. Follow me, please.” Bob began by inspecting the area around Archie’s chair. It was a confusion of footprints. He shook his head. “The assailant’s imprints should be distinguishable in the soft earth inside the woods.”
Sykes nodded at him. “Okay, let’s get on with it.”
Hound raised his hand. “One moment, please.”
Bob turned to him. “Yes?”
“What direction did the attacker come from?”
Bob looked puzzled. “The street, perhaps, or the woods. We’re trying to find out.”
“What about the house?”
“I haven’t checked it yet.” Bob turned to Sykes, who nodded.
Bob tied Charger to the back fence. After matching Rebecca’s shoe prints, and those of Freddie and Maggie, which Hadi had brought from the house, he found nothing else. He shrugged. “Looks like we’ll have to search for the assailant’s prints in the woods.”
Hound cleared his throat.
“Well? What is it now?” asked Sykes.
“The position of Archie’s chair suggests he was facing the woods, so the attacker must have jumped the fence farther down, and then struck Archie from behind.”
“You’re right,” Rebecca said. “The chair hasn’t been moved.”
“Unfortunately the ambulance staff came that way. The whole area’s trampled. No way to sort out prints.” Bob shook his head.
“All right,” Sykes said. “We’ve accounted for all the shoes.” He was growing visibly impatient. “Let’s get on with checking the woods.”
Bob went to the back fence and examined the ground again. “There’s a single shallow footprint leading into the woods from Archie’s chair. The assailant must’ve been light. We should find deeper imprints in the woods.”
Sykes rolled his eyes. “Then let’s go. Let the dog show his stuff.”
Bob patted Charger and gave him Archie’s bloodied shirt to sniff.
“This may be difficult,” Bob said. “Trail’s cold and we don’t have anything belonging to the assailant. Charger’s not a miracle worker.”
“Understood.” Sykes pursed his lips.
Charger snuffled about, but couldn’t find a scent.
O’Reilly cleared his throat. “Hound? Perhaps you could help?”
Hound hesitated, then stepped forward. “Yes, I can follow the trail.”
Bob regarded him skeptically. “How?”
“Slight bends in the grass leading into the woods. They’re faint, but I can make them out.”
Bob knelt down and peered at the ground. “I can’t see anything. You sure?”
“Yes.” Hound turned to Sykes, who paused for a second, then waved his hand.
Hound stepped over the fence.
* * *
Hound was at home in the woods. The place was alive with familiar sights, sounds and smells. But there was something new. Alert, almost quivering, he set off, following a trail that was invisible to the others. He led the party on until he spotted a clearly defined footprint in a patch of soft earth. Chad set to work to make a cast.
The group continued through the woods and out onto an overgrown dirt lane.
“I know this place,” O’Reilly declared. “Used to be a logging road decades ago. Nobody comes this way anymore. There was a thriving sawmill a short distance from here, but it went out of business.”
Hound pointed at a spot not far from where he was standing. “A car was parked over there.”
Bob hurried over to examine the place. “You’re right!”
“What now?” Sykes asked.
Bob shrugged apologetically. “Charger still hasn’t picked up the scent. Maybe we don’t need him.” He looked at Hound.
“Someone got in the car right here.” Hound bent down and pointed at a faint shoe print. “The attacker must have turned his car to face the highway, ready to leave in a hurry. The trail through the woods started to wander, so I figure he was getting tired.” He studied the ground. “There’s a clump of dirt next to the impression. It might have traces of sweat on it.” Sykes took a plastic bag from his pocket and scooped it up.
Hound stood up and stared along the lane. Then he went over to a shallow ditch, knelt, and retrieved a black leather glove. “Maybe this will help.”
Bob took the glove and held it out to Charger, who sniffed at it, then yelped and strained at the leash. “That’s it,” Bob exclaimed. “He’s got a scent.” He gazed at Hound in admiration.
Sykes beckoned to Hound and they wandered off towards the abandoned sawmill.
* * *
Rebecca watched them disappear behind a line of sugar maples at a bend in the lane. She couldn’t help feeling envious of Sykes’s evident respect for Hound.
O’Reilly squinted in the bright sunlight. “What’s he up to, Rebecca?”
She shrugged. “No idea, but he obviously has a high opinion of Hound. That’s not like Sykes.”
“Hound’s a strange one, all right. But he has an effect on people. I once took him with me to Georgie’s, after a biker gang started to get out of hand. He just stood there like an enormous statue and said nothing. They quietened down straight away. It’s not just his size either.”
Rebecca nodded. “Hound seems like an entirely different person to the one I first met. Remember the milkshake at Duffy’s? Have you noticed the change in him?”
“To me, he’s always been larger than life. But when we went to that cave, I saw something I hadn’t seen before. He seemed to be looking right into me.”
“How old is he?”
“Twenty-two, I’d guess.”
“When I first saw him at Duffy’s, I’d have sworn he was in his teens. Now he seems much older.”
O’Reilly looked at her. “You know, I’d say the transformation started when you came to Conroy. You were the catalyst that caused him to emerge from his shell.”
Rebecca felt uneasy for a moment. “What does life hold in store for Hound? He can’t stay here forever, but he’ll never go back to England. Did you know that he’s fascinated by mystery books? He has a fabulous collection in his basement library.”
O’Reilly nodded. “I’ve never seen his books, but it doesn’t surprise
me. He’s helped me on a few cases, although only two of them were real crimes. He figures things out fast. But, other than checking Hagger’s Creek with me, he steered clear of Abigail’s investigation. I wish I’d involved him more. I might’ve solved the murder a year ago, and by now everything would be back to normal.”
Rebecca laughed. “Normal? Has life in Conroy ever been normal?”
O’Reilly’s face tightened. “Maybe you’re right. But what am I going to do about the mess I’ve gotten myself into? You’ll tell Cartwright about the bribes I took. If you don’t, Sykes will find out anyway. Then I’ll lose my job. I could get charged and even go to jail.” He sat on a rock, with his chin in his hands, and Rebecca suddenly felt awful about her assignment to evaluate his competency.
She looked at him. “I don’t know, O’Reilly. I should report you, and I’m planning to. It’s my duty. But I’ve held off so far as I had hoped you would do it yourself. I should’ve told Cartwright last night, but it wasn’t the right time. I could have told Sykes this morning, but it was awkward.” She levelled a stern look at O’Reilly. “Will you tell me now how deeply you’re mixed up in this deal? It might help me decide what to do about it.”
“I shouldn’t tell you anything more. It’s high time for me to get a lawyer and tell Cartwright myself. I’d rather avoid DI Sykes, if you don’t mind. I apologize for not telling him today, but I couldn’t muster the courage.”
“Understood, I guess,” Rebecca said. “In any event, it will go better with Cartwright if you tell him first.”
“Thanks, Rebecca. I’ll do it right after we return to Conroy. But please believe that I didn’t knowingly do anything connected to the murders. All I did was accept money in exchange for keeping my mouth shut about the deals. Kingsley figured I’d find out sooner or later, and he wanted them kept secret. I never imagined Abigail would become a victim. I guess the easy money blinded me. I don’t deserve to wear my uniform.” He shook his head. “Most frustrating of all is that we can’t pin anything on Kingsley. He probably helped Perez with money laundering, but there’s no evidence. Sure, he bribed me and Charlie Taylor, but the money was paid in cash. Charlie will deny everything.”
“What about Perez?”
“I really cannot understand why Kingsley brought him into it. I’ve already told you that. I’d gladly give the cash back to get clear of this mess, but it’s been spent.”
“The furniture and art I saw in your house?”
“Yeah, and a small down payment on a cottage.” He hung his head.
“O’Reilly, how could you?”
“Because I’m an idiot. I could walk away from the cottage and forfeit the money. I’ll do that anyway, then get rid of the art and furniture. But what’s the point? The truth will come out, no matter what I do.”
Rebecca clapped her hands over her ears. “I’m not listening.” O’Reilly was right. He needed a good lawyer, and fast.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t drag you into it. D’you think I can get off without going to jail? If I only lost my job, maybe I could go somewhere far away and try to put this whole mess behind me.”
“I don’t know. My guess is that if Cartwright believes you’re being honest with him, he’ll treat you decently. He does have a good side. It’s your best chance.”
* * *
Sykes and Hound strolled down the lane in silence. They drew near the abandoned sawmill and gazed up at the rusty girders and shattered windows. A musty smell of decomposing wood suffused the area.
Hound took an instant liking to the place. “That’s a comforting sight.”
Sykes raised his eyebrows.
“This place has a happy feel to it, despite its sorry state. People worked here. They lived good lives as families and friends, all surrounded by beautiful countryside.” He sounded wistful.
Sykes regarded him for a moment, then shrugged.
They wandered around the side of the main building.
Eventually Sykes said, “You must know what’s going on in this town.”
“I thought I did. Now I’m not so sure.”
“What do you mean?”
“I have a theory about what happened to Abigail and Herman, but Rebecca thinks there’s something missing.”
Sykes looked skeptical. “She does, does she?”
Hound stopped walking and peered Sykes. “What’s your issue with her?”
Sykes kept moving, as if he hadn’t heard the question.
Hound caught up with him. “I never knew the mill was here. I don’t know why I haven’t been down this lane before. It’s almost in my backyard.”
“O’Reilly knew it was here.” Sykes gazed up at Hound. “He seems to know a lot about what goes on in this area — as he should.”
“He’s a good man, sir.”
“Perhaps, but he’s up to something, I’m sure of it. I don’t know what it is, and frankly, I don’t care, unless it’s linked to my case.”
“Is Abigail really your case?”
Sykes glared at him. “Of course it’s mine.”
“Isn’t it Rebecca’s?”
“She reports to me.”
“You know what I mean.”
Sykes frowned. “You’re getting into matters that don’t concern you, boy.”
“I’m not a boy.”
Sykes regarded him for a moment. “Indeed, you’re not, but I’ll ask the questions, if you please.”
Hound shrugged.
They trudged away from the mill. “Why do you believe Abigail’s death was a suicide?” asked Sykes.
Hound told him, but Sykes obviously wasn’t convinced. He had a sharp mind, Hound could see. He certainly wasn’t someone to mess with.
They rejoined the others. Sykes appeared to be lost in thought, only looking up when Bob emerged from the woods, leading Charger.
“I’m going back to Orillia to check out a few things on the computer,” Sykes declared. “Constable Bradley, come with me. Thanks a lot, Bob, you can go back now. And thank you, Hound.”
Chapter 31
O’Reilly rode into Conroy in Hound’s Bentley. He wondered about the vintage beauty. How had Hound come by the money to buy such a treasure?
Sally was waiting for him outside his office. “There you are, chief. Lukas just called. He was asking for Hound. And you.”
“What’s up?”
“I don’t know, but he sounded really distressed.”
“He’s in Orillia,” Hound said. “I sent him there to check on some things for me. Can I use your phone, chief?”
“Go ahead.”
He hurried into O’Reilly’s office and picked up the phone. “Lukas, I’m at the chief’s office. What’s so urgent?”
“Thank God you called. I checked the Orillia library for stuff on the abandoned gold mine. Then I went to the registry office to see who holds the deeds to it. Turns out the mine belongs to Jackie Caldwell, not Kingsley. Her husband left it to her, but he inherited it from his father. And get this — her father-in-law bought the mine from a man named Steven Bradley, who lived in Conroy decades ago. He owned Maggie’s boarding house. Think he’s related to Rebecca?”
“Probably. She seems to be connected to this town in lots of ways.”
“But that’s not why I’ve been trying to reach you.” Lukas’s voice was raspy and he was breathing fast. “I just overheard two suspicious-looking guys in a coffee shop. I’m watching them now, from across the street. They work for Marco Perez. I heard them talking about Guido, but they mentioned Freddie.”
“Slow down, Lukas. What did they say? Freddie’s disappeared. The police are looking for him.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Guido kidnapped him. These guys are going out to a shack about half an hour north of Conroy. I’ve got a feeling something really bad’s going to happen. I was three booths away and couldn’t hear well, but it sounded like Freddie’s going to be disposed of — you know. Killed. They didn’t say that exactly, but that’s what I think. What’re w
e going to do?” Lukas paused. “Oh God, they’re leaving now.”
“Follow them, Lukas. But stay well back. See where they’re headed. Call me when they turn off the Trans-Canada. If they spot you, drive like hell to the chief’s office. Got that?”
“Okay, but I’m really worried about Freddie. These guys are killers. Bring lots of help.”
“Will do. And, Lukas? Be careful.”
Hound turned to O’Reilly, who was standing next to him, straining to overhear. When the call ended he went around his desk and unlocked one of the drawers. He took out a handgun, and then a key. He hurried to a wall cabinet and retrieved a double barrel shotgun and some shells. This, he handed to Hound. “Know how to use it?”
“Never shot one, but I’ll figure it out.”
O’Reilly took the weapon and showed him how to load it.
“Chief, what are we going to do?”
“First, call the Emergency Response Team for support.”
“What about us? We can’t just sit here.”
“We won’t. That’s what the weapons are for. We’ll head north on the Trans-Canada and pull off somewhere secluded, then we’ll watch for Lukas to go by. If he’s right about the shack, Perez’s men will soon drive past, with Lukas following them in your roadster. When we see it, we’ll pull out and tail the men until they turn off the highway. After that, we’ll play it by ear. Hopefully, the ERT will take over.”
“Sounds good, chief. I’ll call Lukas back and tell him our plan. Can you get Sally to text your cell phone number to him?”
O’Reilly spoke to Sally. Then he called Orillia. “Constable O’Reilly here. Find Superintendent Cartwright . . . No it can’t wait. Get him now!” He drummed his fingers on the desk and muttered under his breath. Then he straightened up. “Sir, it’s Constable O’Reilly. We’ve got an emergency situation. I need backup.” He listened. “I need help, sir. I can’t wait for an hour. It’s a matter of life and death . . . Yes, sir. I’m at my office. A man named Hound is with me. Has auxiliary officer training, so I’ve asked him to help until reinforcements arrive. We’re heading out now to see if we can discover where Perez’s men are going. Send the ERT as fast as you can.”