by Ken Ogilvie
* * *
Freddie headed directly to Kingsley’s house, stuffing Valium tablets into his mouth as he went. At least the police were wise to Kingsley’s whole shady scheme now. He hadn’t told them much, but at least they knew Kingsley was behind it all. After his row with Maggie, Freddie became convinced that he had to set the record straight. He was willing to help them bring Kingsley down. His drug-addled brain came up with an idea. He would tell Kingsley that he’d taken copies of his correspondence with Perez and turned them over to the police. It wasn’t true, but it would really upset the two-faced weasel. He smiled, eager to see Kingsley’s reaction when he told him.
Freddie arrived at the house, out of breath. The Crown Vic was in the driveway. Kingsley never walked anywhere, so the skunk must be at home. Freddie inhaled deeply and marched up the front steps.
* * *
Shorty peered around the trunk of a large tree and watched Freddie hammer on the front door. As soon as it opened, Freddie shoved in past Kingsley, who peered up and down the street and disappeared inside.
Shorty waited a few seconds. Beneath the dense cover of some garden shrubs, he crawled towards the house. He could hear the sound of raised voices coming through an open window.
“I’ve had it with you, you bastard!” It was Freddie.
“Shut up, fool.”
“They’ll nail you,” shouted Freddie. “And I’ll be first in line to help them.”
Kingsley’s voice was even. “Calm down, Freddie. Go to the liquor cabinet and pour yourself a drink, there’s a good boy.”
“Piss off!” Freddie yelled. “I’m calling the police and telling them to come here. See how you like that.” Shorty heard the stamp of feet as someone crossed the room. Another set of footsteps followed, and then a thud. Everything went quiet.
Shorty’s heart thumped. He backed out of the shrubs and scrambled through the hedge, fumbling for his cell phone as he went. O’Reilly was laid up at the medical centre. No help there. The OPP in Orillia? But they would take too long to get here. Shorty wondered where Jackie Caldwell had disappeared to.
Reaching Main, Shorty peered up and down the street. He saw Rebecca’s Mercedes in O’Reilly’s parking lot.
* * *
Shorty crashed through the station door, making Rebecca jump.
“Shorty! What’s the matter?”
“Kingsley McBride,” he gasped. “Freddie’s at his house. He threatened to send Kingsley to jail. I think Kingsley slugged him.”
“Quick. Jump in my car.” As soon as they were seated in her Mercedes, Rebecca thrust her cell phone at him. “Call Superintendent Cartwright. His number’s in my contacts. Tell his assistant you’re with me and it’s an emergency. Say I’m at Kingsley’s house, and going straight in without a warrant. I don’t want him ordering me to stay put until reinforcements arrive. Freddie’s in grave danger.”
Shorty hit the call button. By the time he got Cartwright on the line, they were at Kingsley’s house. But it was too late. The Crown Vic had gone.
Rebecca leapt from her Mercedes and rushed to the front door, which was unlocked. Inside, there were fresh bloodstains on the study carpet. She scrambled back into her car and snatched the phone from Shorty.
“Sir, Rebecca here. Looks like McBride knocked out Freddie Stafford and took him away in his car. I’ll see if I can find them, but I need backup. O’Reilly’s still in hospital. Is Sykes in town?”
“He’s back in Orillia.”
“Damn. Then I’m on my own. I’ll call when I catch up with Kingsley, if I do. You should alert all patrol cars to watch the Trans-Canada. Shorty will describe his car.” She passed the phone to Shorty while she turned the Mercedes around. When she was on her way, she retrieved the phone. Cartwright warned her to be careful.
She looked at her companion. “Any ideas where Kingsley might go?”
“None.”
“Okay, I’ll just have to ask people if they’ve seen him.” She felt like shaking the steering wheel. They must have just missed him.
Shorty turned to her. “I have an idea. Call Hound.”
“Why?”
“Just do it. He’ll think of something.”
“All right, but he’s at the medical centre. What can he do from there? I’ll call DI Sykes too, but he’s in Orillia. What about you, Shorty? Are you willing to help? Things could get rough, you know.”
Shorty looked through the windscreen, his chin thrust forward. “I’ll give my life if I have to.”
Rebecca stopped to question a couple of townsfolk along Main. They hadn’t seen Kingsley.
“Where could they have gone?” she muttered.
Shorty turned to her. “Kingsley was with Jackie Caldwell today. He could have gone to her house.”
Rebecca followed Shorty’s directions while he told her what he’d overheard between Kingsley and Jackie. When he’d finished speaking Rebecca slammed on the brakes, grabbed the phone from Shorty and found the medical centre number. She hit dial and handed the phone back to Shorty.
“Ask for Hound.”
The receptionist put him through.
“He’s on the line.” Shorty returned the phone.
“Hound, there’s an emergency.” She told him what had happened.
Hound said, “Rebecca, whatever you do, don’t try to rescue Freddie on your own. You’ll be killed if you tackle Kingsley and Jackie without assistance. Wait until support arrives. I’m heading there now.”
“No, Hound. You stay at the centre. We can handle it.”
“I’m on my way. And no, you can’t handle this one. Take my word for it. Keep away from Kingsley, and at all costs avoid Jackie. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” He ended the call.
When they got to Jackie’s, the Crown Vic was there, parked close to the house. Rebecca looked at Shorty. “Hound said to stay put. He doesn’t want us going after Freddie. Says it’s too dangerous. What do you think?”
“I may have lost my best pal because I wasn’t around when he needed me. We can’t leave Freddie alone with them.” Shorty balled his small hands into fists.
“We don’t know for sure that they’re going to kill him. They wouldn’t do it here anyway. My guess is they’ll take him out of town.”
“What if you’re wrong?”
She shrugged. “I think Hound was right. There’s two of them and they could be armed.” Rebecca drove her car farther up the street and parked where they couldn’t be seen from the house. The trouble was, they couldn’t see Kingsley’s car either.
Rebecca called Sykes and reached his voice mail. She left a message telling him the situation, and that she intended to rescue Freddie. Next, she called Cartwright. While she waited for him to answer, Rebecca wondered why Hound had told her to avoid Jackie at all costs.
Chapter 38
Hound struggled to pull on his clothes. Every movement made him cry out in pain. He woke O’Reilly, who raised himself on an elbow and rubbed his eyes.
“Hound, what are you up to?”
“Rebecca and Shorty are outside Jackie Caldwell’s house. She and Kingsley have taken Freddie prisoner.”
“Why? What’s going on?” O’Reilly sat up and yawned. Hound figured he was still on sedatives, although he was scheduled to be moved to Orillia in an hour or so.
“I reckon this is the final piece of the puzzle.” Hound slipped on his shoes, but he couldn’t manage the laces. Using the bed frame, he hauled himself to his feet and hobbled from the room.
He spoke to the receptionist. “Call a taxi, would you?”
She shook her head. “Mr. Hounsley, you know you’re not allowed up. Get back to your room.”
“Just call the taxi. Now. It’s an emergency.”
While she hesitated, Hound leaned over the desk, pressing a hand against his cracked ribs. With a loud yelp, he snatched the phone from its cradle.
The receptionist shot to her feet. “You can’t take my phone like that. I’m getting the charge nurse, right now.” S
he hurried away.
Hound had just finished the call when the charge nurse stormed into the hall, the receptionist in tow. “Mr. Hounsley, you’re to stay in bed. Get back there this minute.” She folded her arms.
“Just Hound, ma’am. Sorry, but I can’t do that. I’m needed elsewhere, urgently. I’d appreciate it if you could get my painkillers for me.”
“Certainly not. Whatever it is, it can wait. You need rest. Come along with me.” She grabbed his arm and tugged, but Hound stood firm.
She let go. “Have it your way. But you’ll be back, and in excruciating pain. Don’t expect any sympathy then.” The thought seemed to please her.
Hound ignored her and hobbled out to the parking lot, where the cab was waiting.
* * *
Swearing volubly, Sykes stalked out of Cartwright’s office. How did he always manage to be away from Conroy just when something was happening? The McBride and Vogel cases were about to come to a head, but here he was, miles from the action. He checked his voicemail and heard Rebecca’s appeal for help. He cursed again.
Chad was coming down the hall towards him.
“Things are heating up again,” Sykes yelled. “Get my car. And find Hadi. We’re going back to Conroy.”
“Why don’t we just move there, boss?” Chad grunted, and ran off to find his colleague.
Why not? thought Sykes. There’d been more action in tiny Conroy in a week than he’d seen all year — two killed, and another at death’s door. There might be more bodies if they didn’t get there soon. Cartwright had been handed a plum case last year with the Abigail McBride case, and made a mess of it. Sykes had let him have it, and now he regretted stepping aside, even if he’d had a good reason for it. He might have prevented Herman’s murder. To make things worse, he was being outclassed by an inexperienced constable, and a complete amateur. Rebecca and Hound had been a step ahead of him all the way.
Chad and Hadi pulled up, and Sykes got in. He tried to call Rebecca but her number was busy. Muttering imprecations under his breath, he leaned back in his seat while they raced towards the Trans-Canada.
* * *
Kingsley and Jackie threw the bound and semi-conscious Freddie into the crawl space under Jackie’s house. They went upstairs and stood facing each other in her living room.
“Now what, Kingsley?” The corners of Jackie’s mouth were slightly upturned.
Right now, all Kingsley wanted was to put his hands around her neck and squeeze. Real hard. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he said. “Well, you’re in it too, you know, up to your ears, so there’s no reason to smile like that.” And what the deuce were they going to do? “I wonder where Perez made people vanish.”
“It’s too late, Kingsley. Whatever you do now, the police will find out about your little schemes. That filthy little girl detective is on to you. Hound too. They won’t give up.” Her black eyes glittered.
“And what about you?”
Jackie smiled. “They’ll never get me. After all, what have I done wrong?”
“You murdered Perez, for a start.”
“Who’s to know? It’s your word against mine, and it’s you they’re after.” That irritating little smile played about her lips.
“Then help me.” Kingsley ground his teeth. Oh, if only he could finish her off now. What a relief it would be.
“Of course, Kingsley. I’ve always helped you, haven’t I?”
“Huh?” Kingsley glared at her.
Jackie began counting on her fingers. “First of all, Abigail. I took care of her, and no one was any the wiser — including you. Then I was forced to kill Herman. That was her fault, the Bradley bitch. Archie should have been next, but I slipped up there. Now it’s Freddie’s turn. Then I can deal with the Bradley whore once and for all. Hound too, if he gets in our way. After that, we’ll be safe.”
Kingsley stared at her, incredulous. This wasn’t possible. His head spun. If she had indeed murdered Abigail and Herman, the implications were staggering.
“Come on now, Jackie. You’re joking.” Kingsley blinked rapidly. “Aren’t you?”
“I did it for you, Kingsley. You wanted me to, you know you did. You just didn’t have the courage to ask. I’m very strong. Abigail didn’t struggle at all when I strangled her, and then I strung her up to make it look like a suicide. I think she wanted to die. You betrayed her, Kingsley, with your shady deals and your scummy friends.”
Kingsley was stunned. He groped for the nearest chair and sat down heavily. This changed everything. He would have to get rid of Jackie. She was insane.
Suddenly it all became clear to him.
He remembered when they were in high school. She’d stalked him then. She was always there, sidling up to him and offering to help with whatever he needed. He went off to university and forgot all about her. After graduation, he found a job in Toronto.
One day, out of the blue, Jackie wrote to him about the gold mine. Her husband, Paul, had inherited the rights from his father. When Paul died a short while later in a hunting accident, the rights and all his shares passed to Jackie. They were worthless, then, and remained that way until the price of gold started to rise, many years later. In her letter, Jackie told Kingsley she would transfer a quarter of her shares to him, but only if he returned to Conroy and developed the mine. He checked the assays and consulted experts at the Bradley Gold Corporation. They confirmed that the ore was of high quality. George Bradley himself vouched for it. So Kingsley moved to Conroy and began his affair with Jackie, well before he met Abigail and married her. Jackie had seduced him with a promise of additional shares, although he would only get them after the mine was fully operational. He found the vile woman repulsive, but there was so much to gain.
These thoughts brought him back to Paul’s death. Where it all started.
“What about your husband, Jackie?”
“Yes, Kingsley. Paul was in the way, just like his father.”
“What? Your father-in-law too?” His mouth opened and closed like a landed fish.
Jackie’s face shone with pride. “The old man went first. Poisoned, like a garden pest. Nobody suspected a thing. Everyone blamed his weak heart. Steven Bradley — the lousy crook — stole all the money Paul’s father had invested in the mine. But he still got the rights after Bradley was murdered.” She laughed out loud. “Well, that cheating pirate reaped what he sowed.”
Kingsley lurched to his feet and stumbled about the room, shaking his head. “You’ve murdered five people, counting Perez, and tried to kill one more . . .” He stopped in his tracks. “You killed Steven Bradley, didn’t you?” He slumped against the wall.
“Don’t be silly, Kingsley. I was a teenager back then. Someone else killed Bradley. But I would have, eventually.” She sniffed.
Kingsley massaged his temples. His head was throbbing so hard that he feared he might have a stroke.
Jackie’s voice lacked all emotion. She might have been talking about an afternoon’s housework, a trip to the supermarket. “Don’t worry, dear. All we have to do is kill Freddie Stafford and the Bradley bitch. Hound too, I guess. Then we’ll be safe.”
Kingsley began to laugh, hysterically. “What about O’Reilly? And Sykes? I mean, where the hell is this going to end?”
Jackie glared at him. “You’re mocking me, Kingsley. Don’t mock me. I can’t stand that.” She plucked at the buttons on her blouse.
Kingsley stumbled to the liquor cabinet. With a shaking hand, he filled a whiskey glass with vodka and gulped it down like water. He poured a second glass and swallowed that too. He poured another.
Jackie’s eyes were nothing but slits. Her lips curled, revealing sharp yellow teeth.
Kingsley’s blood ran cold. What if she decided to kill him? He realized she could easily dispose of both him and Freddie and get off scot-free. Even if he told the police that Jackie was the killer, they wouldn’t believe him.
He downed his third vodka. His head was spinning, but he knew what he
had to do. He would drive Jackie and Freddie somewhere deep in the countryside and get rid of both of them.
He darted a furtive look at her. Flecks of spittle had gathered at the corners of her mouth. He must calm her down.
“Jackie, there’s no need for us to fight, darling. Let’s get Freddie. It’s time we took care of him. Bring your rifle and we’ll head north. We’ll haul him into the woods and finish him off there.”
Her face lit up. “Now you’re talking. We’re in this together, you and me, aren’t we? Just like Bonnie and Clyde.”
“You bet.” Kingsley shuddered.
“I know a place where we can dump his body. No one will ever find it.” Jackie headed towards the stairs. “I’ll tell you about it on the way.”
* * *
Shorty kept watch while Rebecca called Sykes. He answered immediately and told her that the ERT had been mobilized, but it would take them at least thirty minutes to reach Conroy. He was on his way. He warned her to be careful, and ended the call.
Rebecca turned to Shorty. “We’ll wait here until Hound arrives. The Emergency Response Team is on its way, and DI Sykes will be here soon. It would be crazy to enter the house without backup. We might be captured or shot.”
“Okay, Rebecca, but I’m afraid for Freddie. They’d better get here fast.”
Then they saw the Crown Vic back down the driveway. Kingsley was behind the wheel, with Jackie beside him. They couldn’t see Freddie.
“Crap.” Rebecca pounded the dashboard. “Freddie must be on the back seat, or stashed in the trunk. We’ll follow them and see where they’re going. Hound doesn’t have a cell phone, so I won’t be able to tell him. I’ll call Sykes again.”
“Don’t worry. Hound will find us.” There was no doubt in Shorty’s voice.
Rebecca nodded. She followed the Crown Vic through Conroy, and then north on the Trans-Canada.
Chapter 39
Hound arrived at Jackie Caldwell’s house to find the driveway empty. There was no sign of Rebecca and Shorty. He told the taxi driver, whose name was Arthur, to wait. Then he sank back into the seat and emptied his mind. He came out of his brief trance convinced that Jackie Caldwell was the missing piece in Conroy’s murder puzzle. He recalled O’Reilly telling him that Jackie had shot her husband somewhere in the woods off County Road Thirty-Four, which placed the shooting in the vicinity of his cave. She claimed she’d tripped over a root and accidentally pressed her rifle trigger. Her husband was standing in front of her and the bullet struck him in the back. He died instantly. The police investigation found no motive for murder, so they deemed it an accident and closed the file. At the time they didn’t know that Paul Caldwell owned the gold mine, or that it might be viable someday. The question still remained of how Kingsley became involved, but Hound now knew that Kingsley and Jackie were long-time lovers. She must have used the mine as bait to ensnare him.