Reserved For Murder

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Reserved For Murder Page 22

by Kevin Hopkins


  ‘We wouldn’t have missed it,’ Grant’s dad said, giving Grant a hug. ‘Kind of a short ceremony, isn’t it? I thought there would have been speeches or something.’

  ‘No, these are usually short and to the point,’ Grant said, giving his mom a hug. ‘Pick up the new stripe for the uniform and then head back to work. After some cake and coffee, that is.’

  ‘Well, I thought it was just fine,’ said Grant’s mom, looking up at him with pride. She was a petite woman, much shorter than Grant and his dad. ‘And your Captain is quite the looker. You never told me he was so handsome.’

  ‘Really, mom?’ Grant said. ‘You let her talk like this?’ he said to his dad.

  ‘Oh, he knows he’s the only one for me,’ his mom said.

  ‘And you know there’s no stopping her. If she wants to say something, she’s going to say it.’

  ‘Just try not to say anything to the Captain when I introduce you, alright?’ Grant said. He spotted Penner and Millar lurking by the cake table. ‘Detectives, I want to introduce you to my parents.’ Penner and Millar walked over. ‘Detective Penner, Detective Millar, these are my parents, Tom and Mary-Ann Grant.’

  ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you,’ Penner said, shaking their hands. ‘I didn’t realize you were adopted,’ she added in an aside to Grant.

  ‘Adopted?’ Grant said. ‘What makes you think I’m adopted?’

  ‘Wait. What?’ Penner stammered. ‘Well, you’re white and your parents, are, um…not.’

  ‘I’m not adopted.’

  ‘Really?’ Penner said, looking at Grant, then at his parents. ‘Really?’

  ‘No, I’m kidding,’ Grant laughed. ‘But you should have seen your face! I was adopted when I was two.’

  ‘When we saw him at the orphanage, we just knew little Cornelius would make a great addition to our family,’ Grant’s mom said. ‘He was such a cute little thing.’

  Penner gave a sharp look at Millar and then looked back at Grant, ‘Cornelius?’

  ‘Yeah, Cornelius. You knew that was my name, right?’

  ‘Uhh,’ Penner said, looking again at Millar and hoping he was going to bail her out.

  ‘Seriously?’ Grant said. ‘What did you think my name was?’

  Millar’s mind was racing. It suddenly occurred to him that he had no idea what Grant’s first name was. ‘Umm…Constable?’ Millar said, sheepishly. Grant’s parents watched the proceedings with amusement.

  ‘You didn’t know my name?’ Grant said. ‘After all this time working together? I can understand not knowing I was adopted, but my name? How could you not know what my name was?’

  ‘I guess it never came up,’ Penner said. ‘You’ve always just been Grant.’

  ‘I don’t know how I should take this,’ Grant said. ‘You really didn’t know my name?’

  ‘Sorry?’ Penner said, hoping Grant wasn’t too mad.

  ‘You both owe me a drink,’ Grant said.

  ‘No problem, Cornelius,’ Millar said. ‘Never going to forget your name now, that’s for sure.’

  ‘It’s a family name,’ Grant said, defensively. ‘It was my granddad’s name.’

  ‘I like it,’ Millar said. ‘You look like a Cornelius.’

  ‘Really?’ Grant said. ‘Alright, enough of you two. I’m going to introduce my folks to the Captain. As long as mom promises to behave herself.’

  ‘I can’t guarantee anything,’ said Mary-Ann with a mischievous grin.

  ‘Congrats again, Cornelius,’ Millar said as Grant and his parents walked over to the Captain. Mary-Ann gave the Captain a big hug under Grant’s watchful eye. ‘You didn’t know either?’ Millar said to Penner.

  ‘I had no idea,’ Penner said. ‘Trust me, I would have remembered it if I’d heard it. Probably should have gotten to know his name at some point over the last year, I guess.’

  ‘Yeah, might have been a good idea,’ Millar said. ‘Let’s get some cake.’

  ‘It’s like, twenty after ten,’ Penner said, checking the time on her phone.

  ‘And your point is?’ Millar asked, walking back over to the cake table by the window. A large vanilla cake, covered in royal blue icing, was waiting to be cut.

  ‘Don’t you think it’s a little early for cake?’

  Millar looked at Penner with a serious expression on his face. ‘Absolutely not. It’s never too early for cake. Especially free cake,’ he added, picking up the knife and cutting the largest slice he dared. He dumped it on a paper plate and traded the knife for a fork. He took a bite—making sure to get equal parts cake and frosting. ‘Mmm,’ he said, ‘that’s some good cake. You should have some.’

  ‘Maybe later,’ Penner said.

  ‘Don’t know if there will be any left later,’ Millar said between bites.

  ‘It’s a chance I’ll have to take I guess,’ Penner said. Then she looked closer at Millar. ‘Stick out your tongue.’

  ‘What?’ Millar said, taking another mouthful of cake.

  ‘Stick out your tongue,’ Penner said again. ‘Well, swallow first.’ Millar finished chewing the cake in his mouth, swallowed and stuck out his tongue. ‘It’s so blue!’ Penner cried, laughing.

  ‘Really?’ Millar looked at some of the other people eating cake, trying to see what their mouths looked like. He noticed a woman beside him had blue teeth. ‘I assume it will fade eventually,’ he said, taking another mouthful.

  ‘Hey, Captain. Sergeant,’ Penner said as the Captain and Grant walked over to grab a slice of cake. ‘Just a warning—it’ll turn your mouth blue. Look at Millar.’ Millar smiled and stuck out his tongue.

  ‘Is it good, at least?’ the Captain asked.

  ‘It’s delicious,’ Millar said, finishing his piece and grabbing another one. ‘Penner didn’t want hers,’ he explained.

  ‘Well, if it’s good, it’s worth a blue mouth,’ the Captain said, helping himself to a moderate slice.

  ‘So, Grant, have you decided which assignment you’re going to take?’ Penner asked.

  ‘I think so,’ Grant said. ‘I thought about it a lot last night and this morning. I think I’ve changed my mind about a dozen times so far—it’s a big decision.’

  ‘But you’ve decided now?’ Penner asked again, her curiosity getting the best of her.

  ‘I have,’ said Grant. ‘Both positions would be challenging. They’d each give me different opportunities. Being a supervisor would be amazing. And guns and gangs sounds like a great place to work. But, working in major crimes would give me the chance to learn from detectives like you two. Plus, I could hopefully learn more about profiling if I got the chance to work with Millar.’

  ‘You’re killing me,’ Penner said. ‘What did you decide?’

  ‘I think the best choice for me, at this point in my career and considering where I want to end up, would be with major crimes.’

  ‘That’s fantastic,’ Penner exclaimed. ‘I thought for sure you were going to go with guns and gangs. I figured the way the case with the Chief went would have turned you off major crimes.’

  ‘Actually,’ Grant said, ‘that was one of the deciding factors for me. I want to learn as much as I can so people like him don’t get away with their crimes.’

  ‘Well, welcome aboard,’ Penner said, shaking Grant’s hand. ‘So, when will you start with us?’

  ‘You know, that’s a good question,’ Grant said. ‘Captain?’

  ‘Well,’ the Captain said, his teeth blue from icing. ‘I spoke with your current Sergeant—he wants you to finish off the week with him. They’d be a bit short-handed if you transferred right away. Finish off the week. Then you can start when Millar comes back. When was that? Next Thursday?’

  Millar struggled to finish the cake filling his mouth. ‘That’s correct, sir.’

  ‘Does that work for you?’ the Captain asked Grant.

  ‘Absolutely,’ Grant said. ‘It will be good to spend a couple of days with the old team before moving on.’

  ‘Perfect,’ the Captain sa
id, taking another bite of cake. ‘This really is good cake.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Grant pulled open the door of Joe’s diner and looked around. It was early in the morning, but Penner and Millar were already there, drinking coffee at one of the tables by the window. ‘Hey, guys. How’s it going?’ he greeted them, pulling out a chair and sitting next to Penner.

  ‘Doing well. And you?’ Penner asked. ‘How was your last week with your old team?’

  ‘It was good, but it seemed to go by really slow.’ Grant noticed Joe, the owner, walk by. ‘Hey, Joe. Can I get a coffee when you get a chance?’

  ‘No problem, Neil,’ Joe said.

  ‘See, even he knows my name.’

  ‘We’re never going to live that one down, are we?’ Penner said.

  ‘Probably not,’ Grant said, grinning. ‘But you never know. How was your last week off?’ he asked Millar.

  ‘It was good,’ Millar answered. ‘Stopped in and saw Tina, which was nice.’

  ‘How’s she doing?’ Grant asked, as Joe stopped by with a mug in one hand and a coffee pot in the other. ‘Thanks, Joe. I’ll have the usual, please.’

  ‘No problem,’ Joe said. ‘Sue?’

  ‘I’ll go for the crepes today. Extra whip cream,’ Penner said.

  ‘Sounds good. Terry?’

  ‘I’ll get two eggs, sunny side up. Bacon, sausage and hash browns, please. Oh, and white toast.’

  ‘I’ll get the order in right away,’ Joe said. ‘More coffee while you wait?’

  ‘You know me,’ Penner said. ‘Thanks.’ She held out her mug and Joe topped it up.

  ‘So, Tina? Doing well?’ Grant asked again.

  ‘Yeah, she is,’ Millar said. ‘She’s doing well with her classes and the psychologist seems to be helping her come to terms with everything.’

  ‘That’s great,’ Grant said. ‘Is her leg finally healed up?’

  ‘She’s still doing physio,’ Millar said. ‘She has some pain from time to time and a bit of a limp. Gunshot wounds are no joke. Seems like it’s getting better, though.’

  ‘Hopefully it keeps improving,’ Penner said.

  Millar spotted Joe carrying three plates of food towards their table. ‘What time’s Barry planning on meeting us to escort us onto the reserve so we can grab our stuff?’ he asked Grant.

  ‘Quarter to ten, so we’re going to have to head out as soon as we’re done eating,’ Grant said. ‘Thanks, Joe,’ he said as a stack of pancakes was dropped off in front of him.

  ‘Well, eat up,’ Penner said. ‘This looks delicious. And we might need our strength.’

  ***

  Millar rode with Penner out to the reserve and Grant followed behind in his own car. It was 9:40 when they arrived at the entrance, but there was no sign of Barry. They parked, one in front of the other along the side of the road, and shut off their engines. Grant walked up to Penner’s car and motioned for her to roll down her window.

  ‘I guess we’re a little early,’ he said, leaning down.

  ‘I really hope we don’t end up seeing the Chief while we’re here,’ Penner said. ‘I can’t be held responsible for what I might say. Or, worse, do.’

  ‘Technically, if he has a restraining order against us, he shouldn’t be around during the time we’re allowed on the property,’ Millar said, leaning across the centre console towards the driver’s window.

  ‘Well, technically you aren’t supposed to kill people but that didn’t stop him, now did it,’ Penner said.

  ‘If he’s smart, he won’t be around. But if he is, we’ll just try and ignore him, right?’ Millar said. ‘Right?’ he emphasized again to Penner. He had his doubts that Penner would be able to do that.

  Ten minutes passed and Barry still hadn’t shown up. ‘Do you think he forgot?’ Penner asked, checking the time on the dash.

  ‘I called him the other night to confirm the time,’ Grant said. ‘Maybe he’s just running late. I’ll give him a call and see where he is.’ He took out his phone and dialled Barry’s number. ‘Went straight to voice mail,’ Grant said. He tried again. ‘Must be in one of the dead zones.’

  ‘Hopefully he shows up soon, I don’t feel like sitting on the side of the road all day,’ Penner said.

  ‘You can always stand.’

  ‘Not a bad idea,’ Millar said, opening his door. ‘I could use a stretch.’ Penner and Millar joined Grant in leaning against the hood of her car.

  A cloud of dust appear on the dirt road ahead of them. ‘That’s probably him,’ Grant said, watching a car appear out of the dusty haze. He could make out a driver and someone in the passenger seat. ‘Is that the Chief?’

  ‘What the hell’s he doing here?’ Millar asked as the car pulled up beside them. Barry opened the driver’s side door and stepped out, but the Chief stayed in his seat, staring straight ahead.

  ‘Why did you bring him?’ Grant asked, walking over to Barry.

  ‘I can’t stay—I have to go back to work,’ Barry explained. ‘So, the Chief agreed to bring you in to get your stuff.’

  ‘Can’t stay? What do you mean you can’t stay?’ Grant asked, looking at Millar and Penner. ‘Couldn’t you have had someone else bring us in?’

  ‘Look,’ Barry said, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘There’s been some developments since the last time we talked.’ He glanced over at the Chief, who still hadn’t moved.

  ‘What type of developments?’ asked Millar.

  ‘Well, yesterday the Chief came to see me,’ Barry said. ‘He wanted me to dust the note from Sammy for prints.’

  ‘Really?’ Penner said in disbelief. ‘Why would he do that? Did you find anything?’

  ‘I did,’ Barry said. ‘Obviously, it was plastered with Mrs. Greycrow’s prints. But, we found another print as well.’

  ‘Travis’s?’ Millar asked, confident of the answer.

  ‘Actually, no. It was Sooleawa’s,’ Barry said.

  ‘You’re kidding,’ said Millar, the shock evident on his face. ‘Well, I didn’t see that coming.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  ‘You’re not the only one,’ the Chief said. No one had even noticed him get out of the car. He hardly seemed like the same man. Gone was the bravado—he seemed broken. Like he was carrying the weight of a great sadness on his shoulders.

  ‘So, maybe she did see the note at the hospital, then?’ Grant suggested.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ the Chief said. ‘I spoke with Mrs. Greycrow, Sammy and Sarah about it, and all of them were adamant that she never saw the note.’

  ‘So,’ Penner started slowly, ‘maybe I’m missing something, but how did her print get on it?’

  ‘Well, that’s what I asked her,’ the Chief said. He paused and crossed his arms before continuing. ‘At first she told me that they were all mistaken. Or they were lying. I wanted to believe her, but there was something that just didn’t make sense to me. Why would Travis have wanted to commit these crimes? It made no sense at all. He had nothing to gain. He was getting paid whether the funding came in or not—and all he had to do was stick it out for a couple of years and he would have retired with a sweet pension. I pressed Sooleawa, asking her what she knew about the crimes and she finally caved.’

  ‘Caved? What do you mean?’ Penner asked.

  ‘She told me everything,’ the Chief said, shaking his head. ‘Several months ago, Travis had taken a couple of days off to visit his sister. While he was gone, Sooleawa opened up some mail that had come for the band. Travis usually took care of all the mail. It was a letter from the Government—a receipt for a payment they had made to the band for $9500.’

  ‘Is it normal to get payments like that from the Government?’ Penner asked.

  ‘It is. They send periodic payments in hopes of making up for the conditions here. Never quite enough, but it’s something. Anyways, Sooleawa looked at the accounting ledgers and there was no mention of the payment ever coming in. So, she started to do some digging. After a couple of days, apparent
ly she figured out that Travis had been stealing from us for almost as long as he worked here. Writing himself cheques from the band accounts, signing over cheques from the Government to a fake account. Probably $100,000 or more over the years.’

  ‘And you didn’t know?’ Grant couldn’t keep the skepticism out of his voice—he wasn’t sure he believed the story.

  ‘I had no clue,’ the Chief said, looking him in the eye. ‘I had nothing to do with the books or the accounting—that was Travis’s job. I had no reason to believe he was stealing from us. When he told me funding hadn’t come in, I just figured we were getting screwed over again. Nothing new.’

  ‘And Sooleawa didn’t tell you?’ asked Penner.

  ‘No, she kept it to herself. Well—not entirely to herself. She confronted Travis when he came back to work and he admitted it right away. He begged her not to report him to the police or to his bosses—to give him a chance to pay the band back. But there was no way to pay us back. The money was gone and, even though he had a good salary, he couldn’t come up with that type of money. So, the two of them hatched a plan to guilt the Government into giving us enough money to fix the water supply and, they hoped, anything else that needed improving here.’

  A stunned silence followed the Chief’s speech, as they each slowly came to realize the implication of his words. Finally, Millar broke the silence. ‘So…they decided to kill Jonny and Sammy?’

  Chief Ravenclaw flinched as the words were spoken out loud. ‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘Sooleawa figured that kids killing themselves would get us the sympathy we needed and things would improve. There had been suicides here before, so she didn’t think it would be too far fetched.’

  ‘Like Amanda,’ Grant said.

  ‘Yes, like Amanda,’ the Chief said, looking over at Grant. ‘When Amanda killed herself, it broke a part of Sooleawa. It was like part of her spirit died with her that day. She changed.’ He took a deep breath before continuing. ‘I blamed myself for Amanda’s death. When Sooleawa and I got married, we decided to move back to the reserve so I could try to become Chief. I didn’t think about the effect it would have on Amanda. She had grown up in the city—she had no idea what it would be like to live on the reserve. It’s not easy, Detectives.’ The Chief looked up at Millar and Penner and quickly wiped a tear from his eye. ‘I blamed myself. I blamed the Government for treating us like second-class citizens. But, Sooleawa—she blamed Jonny. And when she and Travis came up with this outlandish plan, she decided Jonny would be their first victim. She had always claimed that Amanda’s suicide was his fault. She figured something must have happened while they were dating. But I never thought that—they always seemed so happy together. I thought Jonny was one of the best things to happen to her.’

 

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