“Yeah, that’s Jimmy Butzen. He was involved in that thing over in Chinatown last month.”
“Okay let’s call this one,” Liam said, before stepping back towards the doorway.
To say I was flabbergasted didn’t quite cover it. Especially when they stepped back into the lobby without a second glance at the scene.
“What’s going on, guys?” I shrugged my shoulders in disbelief as I blocked their path to the staircase.
“Well, Meg-it’s Meg, isn’t it? We’re going to be handing this one over to some junior detectives.”
“And why’s that?” I asked.
“To tell you the truth, we’re run off our feet at the moment. We have to head over to the Empress on another call.”
“Okay but I think this guy is going to need someone to solve his murder,” I said.
“Of course and we will,” Henry said, putting on his best politician’s face. “We have another crew arriving shortly to deal with this. You gotta understand, Butzen in there got pulled in for a line up every other week. He wasn’t exactly an upstanding citizen. With the crowd he hangs around with, this is not an unexpected end for old Jimmy.”
Liam apparently judged the look on my face correctly and hastened to add, “But he deserves justice too. I agree with you. And he’ll get it. Don’t worry. Just not from us. What you gotta understand is that it’s tourist season and the number of cases quadruples in the summer months. Of course the number of staff does not. We’re coping the best we can. Oh, here they are now.”
Turning, we all saw the new arrivals make it to the top of the staircase. To say they were junior detectives was stretching the definition of junior. I think there were goldfish who’d been around longer than these two.
One was tall and thin with a full head of curly brown hair and a sprinkling of what looked like an attempt at a beard. While the other one was a fresh-faced-blonde with her hair pulled back in a ponytail. They certainly looked enthusiastic to be there, which was a vast improvement over the other two detectives, but I would be willing to bet this was their very first case.
“Sir,” the first one addressed Liam with a salute, all the while wrestling with a bulky bag with the words C.S.U. emblazoned on the side of it.
“You’re a detective now, Arnold.” Liam sighed. “You can stop with the salutes. And Cora, welcome. This here is Detective Meg Spencer from the Toronto police department.”
“Retired.”
“Yes, right. Retired. Anyway, she’s the one who found the body so you’ll have to talk to her first. Meg, let me introduce Arnold James and Cora Morrison. They are the newest members to our homicide squad.”
Both beamed happily at me and after nodding at them, I turned to glare at Liam, who at least had the good grace to look sheepish.
“So you know what needs to be done, right? Arnold? Cora? We went over all of this in training. And you’ve been shadowing us for a couple weeks now. Right?” Liam asked the newbies pointedly, all the while smiling reassuringly at me.
“Yes sir. We’re ready,” Arnold said, as Cora nodded and donned her gloves.
“Okay, get to work. And we’ll stay here for a while in case you have any questions.”
“Yes sir,” they said in unison before heading out to the balcony.
I sighed and crossed my arms in front of me.
“Don’t worry. It’s all going to work out. And this is a great case for them to get started on,” Liam said.
“Why? Because it doesn’t matter if you catch the killer?” I said.
“No. Of course not,” Liam said. “Look I’m just as frustrated as you are. But unless you know how I can clone myself, there’s nothing I can do.”
“Believe me, budgets are stretched thin in Toronto too. So I get it. And it’s not my concern anyway. I’m on vacation, right?”
“Right. And thank you for your help so far. So just go and enjoy your holiday. Everything will be all right. Honestly.”
I smiled and set off down the hallway towards my room. By the time I reached it, four doors along, the only one I could see standing in the lobby anymore was Leonard, the manager.
Shaking my head, I went into the room and sat heavily on the comfy chair. This is not your case, Meg, my inner voice lectured me sternly. And isn’t this why you left Toronto? To get away from murder and crime? Yes. It is. So relax and enjoy your holiday already.
How hard can it be? I can force myself to have fun. I leaned back and put my sock feet up on the bed, pulling a tourist magazine off a side table, applying myself to the task of relaxation.
Oh look, Robert Bateman has his own art gallery, down on the waterfront, that would be cool. Or there’s a miniatures museum. Hell, there’s even a bug zoo. Although a walk around Beacon Hill would be great too. Or I could walk all along the inner harbour. There’s so much to do in Victoria but all I could think about was what was happening on the balcony.
Did they dust the entire door for fingerprints? People are forever gripping the edge of a door to stop it from crashing open in a breeze. Oh and maybe there are CCTV cameras somewhere along the road outside? Perhaps they could catch the killer in action.
When it occurred to me that I’d been staring at the ad for Miniature World for fifteen minutes without actually registering any information, I realized something had to change.
“Right,” I said, standing up and dusting myself off. “Put on lipstick, get your purse then leave the hotel. That is an order.”
Easier said than done. It’s in the quiet moments, like when I’m putting on lipstick, when the endless questions start filling my mind. Was this guy here robbing the place on his own? Or was it a gang of thieves? Was there a falling out among them? Did one turn on the other?
“Oh crap,” I said, standing up abruptly, still holding my unused lipstick in my hand. “My paperback. It’s still sitting out there.”
I smiled. There was nothing for it. I was going to have to retrieve it. Darn. And I was really looking forward to leaving the hotel and seeing the sights. Oh well, my holiday would only be delayed by a few more minutes.
But I definitely couldn’t let anyone back home know this was the way I started my retirement. They’d never let me live it down. Tossing the tourist magazine on the bed, I grabbed my key card and headed out the door.
I’m just going to get my paperback and leave right away, I repeated this mantra to myself over and over again as I walked down the hallway. That’s final. No more investigating. No more questions. I will be focussed. I want my paperback, that’s all.
Stalking down the hall, I could see the manager still standing in the lobby, nervously looking around to see if any other hotel guests needed to be ushered past the murder scene as discreetly as he could muster.
We waved briefly at each other then I stepped up to the stained-glass door and screeched to a halt. Inside were two rookies and that was it. There were no senior detectives anywhere in sight.
“Where are Liam and Henry?” I asked.
“Oh they went to another case,” Cora looked up from dusting fingerprint powder on the wicker chair around the dead man’s head.
“At the Empress,” Arnold added, looking up from his camera.
“They assured me they’d be here to help with this investigation.” I ground my teeth together with frustration.
“We can call them anytime.”
“Yeah, Liam said it would be all right.” Arnold nodded.
“Well, that’s not exactly the same thing, is it?”
Cora and Arnold stared at me, with confusion, not sure if I expected an answer.
“Can we help you, ma’am?” Arnold said.
“Um, yes. That’s my paperback,” I said, pointing at the book lying on the floor at the other end of the balcony.
“Oh.” Arnold walked over, picked it up, then handed it to me. “Here you go.”
“Uhh, thanks,” I said, a little bewildered they would just take my word for it.
Thank goodness I’m not the killer.
“Are you’re sure you two don’t want some help with the investigation?”
“No, we should be good,” Cora said. “We’ve been doing this for a while now.”
I could tell by the look on their faces that they weren’t thrilled with my pointed questions. I had no doubt they were well trained and good at their jobs, but it’s a whole different animal when the outcome of a case rests entirely in their hands. One wrong step and they could be tarred with the label ‘incompetent’ for life. If they got this case wrong, it could send their careers down a horrible trajectory.
Jimmy Butzen didn’t sound like a charming individual but I was beginning to feel sorry for him. There was a distinct possibility his killer would never be found. Which wouldn’t reflect well on the careers of these two young detectives. No one likes to start out on a loss, especially a career.
So I was really just thinking about the rookies when I saw the bags of evidence piled up on the floor, within easy reach of my foot. I first checked that the two officers were busy before I leaned over to peer at the contents, pushing a bag or two out of the way with my toe to get a better look.
One evidence bag contained a wallet. Another a pocket knife. Some gum and Kleenex. But there were no bags containing any loot. No jewels. No watches. No wads of cash. There was nothing worth stealing in any of the bags. So where did the loot get to? Or was he killed before he stole anything? If that was the case, why was he killed if it wasn’t for being a thief?
Nudging the bags with my foot, I could see that the last one contained a cell phone. Bingo. Kneeling down, I pressed the screen through the plastic bag and was thrilled to see it come up, unlocked. My heart jumped for joy. A couple more buttons pressed and I could see the last outgoing call was to a “Phil”.
Straightening up, it occurred to me that I might have a bit of a problem. What’s the course of action when dealing with an addiction? Just walk away. Cold turkey. How hard could it be?
I backed away a few steps. This constant curiosity had to be controlled or I’d never be able to relax and enjoy the rest of my life. I’d forever be a slave to uncovering the truth.
What better time than now to break the habit? I thought, as I took another step backwards away from the scene of the crime. I could just turn around and walk away, right now. It would be difficult for the first few days but I could force myself not to think about the case.
Yes, that’s what I could do. If I forced myself I could break this habit once and for all. Then I’d be free. Free to do whatever I wanted for the rest of my life. I took another step backwards.
“I think we’re all done here,” Arnold announced, starting to pack up his gear, as I stared at the evidence still hidden behind the potted plants, that even I could see from where I was standing.
I sighed and my shoulders drooped.
Okay, I’d help. A little. Just until I was sure they were on the right track. I walked forward to the stained-glass door.
“When I was waiting out there earlier I happened to notice something stuffed behind those plants there,” I said, leaning into the room and pointing with my pen at the knitted object.
“Oh,” they both said simultaneously, surprised by something they’d not seen before. After Arnold photographed it, Cora reached in with her gloved hand and pulled out the black material. Carefully unfolding it, she revealed a black balaclava which she deposited into a clear evidence bag.
“Okay good. You’re doing great,” I said. “Just keep looking for more evidence. And wait for the ME.”
If I was going to do any good, it’d be by getting the ball rolling. I’d help investigate, but there was no way I was going to babysit their every move. They wouldn’t appreciate it and I’d hate it.
So I decided to start at the beginning. The central hub of any hotel, the front desk.
Chapter Four
The young man at the front desk looked up and smiled with professional curtesy as I approached.
“Hello,” he said when I was still five steps away.
“Hello, Stan,” I said, after reading his name tag. “I wonder if you can help me.”
“I’ll try my best, madam. How can I help?”
“I’m looking for a maid.”
“Oh no problem. I’ll send one up right away. What’s your room number?”
“No. Sorry. I’m looking for a specific maid. A young girl with long black hair. I saw her earlier but wasn’t close enough to read her name tag.”
“Long black hair,” Stan mused, staring off into space as if he was trying to think of who this mystery maid could be. But I was close enough to realize that a veil had descended over the smiling face and hardness had settled into his eyes. He clearly knew the maid and knew her quite well.
“I don’t think we have any maids here with long, black hair,” he said, his smile all but gone.
“Really? I saw her not fifteen minutes ago, upstairs in the hallway. She had a maid’s uniform on.”
“No I think you must be mistaken, ma’am. There’s no one here that matches your description.”
“Is there someone else here I can ask?” I leaned over the counter to see further into the empty room behind him, with its small office in the far corner. As I stood there watching, a shadow moved slightly across the open door of the office. Or rather the shadow froze in the process of moving.
“You there, in the office,” I yelled. “I have a question. Hello. I can see you in there.”
“There’s no one in there, madam.” Stan stepped over to block my view of the office.
“Really? How about I ring this bell here for a very long time,” I said, my hand hovering over the brass bell sitting on the countertop. “That will probably attract some attention from someone.”
“No don’t,” said a voice from inside the office. Suddenly the maid I had seen earlier materialized from within the office.
“Sue,” Stan said, waving her back into the office.
“It’s fine, Stan. What do you want?” Sue asked, glaring at me from a tear-stained face.
“Why are you crying?”
“I’m not,” she said, wiping her tears away viciously with the back of her hand.
It was clear she’d had some kind of connection with the guy upstairs. Did she already know he was dead? I didn’t think that was the case. She was phoning him just a short time ago.
Perhaps she was upset because she thought the police were here to arrest him for some crime? Like burglary, perhaps?
“Do you know a Jimmy Butzen?” I said.
“No. Yes. What’s it to you, anyway?” She glared at me with the same almond-shaped black eyes that Stan sported.
“How do you know Jimmy Butzen?”
“None of your business.”
“Are you his girlfriend?”
“Now that really is none of your business.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“What’s all this about anyway?”
Before I could answer, Stan said the maid’s name sharply and jabbed his thumb in the direction of the nearby staircase.
By the time I looked back at Sue, she was disappearing out of the office via the side door further along the hallway and vanishing down the service stairs at the end of the hall.
“Stan, where the hell is your sister?” the manager barked before he even reached the bottom of the stairs.
“Oh sorry, madam, I didn’t see you there,” he said, coming up short as he turned the corner and saw both of us standing there.
“Oh no, that’s quite all right, Leonard. You’ll probably be able to answer my questions instead,” I said.
“Oh really?” he asked doubtfully, looking like he would prefer to escape back up the stairs.
“Really. So tell me what the hell is going on in this hotel of yours,” I said.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“I don’t understand what you mean.”
“C’mon Leonard. You got a criminal, complete with balaclava, running around your hotel. Is he here by your invitation?”
“What? No! Of course not. Why would I want him here?”
“I don’t know. Maybe whenever you notice a well-to-do person check in to the hotel, you give a little call over to your pal Jimmy and then split the proceeds afterwards.”
“Bullshit! That’s not me. It’s him!” Leonard pointed at Stan, who gaped in shocked amazement. “Well, not him, but his sister for sure.”
“Hey!” Stan balled his hands into fists. “You better watch what you say about my sister.”
“Why? When it’s the truth?” Leonard demanded, his face getting redder and redder.
“Do you want to take this outside?” Stan said.
“Yeah, let’s.” Leonard charged towards the front desk with fists raised, while Stan backed away with a look of surprise on his face. He clearly expected Leonard to back down when threatened and was shocked to find him rise to the challenge.
“What has gotten into you today, Leonard? You’re acting like a crazy person.” Stan retreated back into the empty room behind him.
“I’ll show you crazy.”
“Boys. Boys. Calm down.” I put a hand up to keep Leonard from advancing any further.
No one was going anywhere, to fight anyone. I was just starting to get some traction with my questions. I needed more details. Clearly there was a criminal ring operating in this hotel. How long had all this been going on? And if it was working so well, who was the person who went and upset the apple cart by killing Jimmy?
The manager was the one to grill. Especially now he was all worked up. His eyes were darting around in his head, worriedly looking around to see who else might be listening in on this conversation. Sweat was starting to drip down the sides of his bright-red face.
He was angry enough to do damage to Stan but his scrawny frame under the baggy company suit, and his delicate hands balled into tiny fists, didn’t inspire much fear. He looked like a little kid on the playground, confronting his bullies, which is something that probably happened more than once in his life.
Victim in Victoria Page 2