On The Inside

by Ted Wood

  “Somebody stuffed a bunch of money in my lunch box,” I said.

  “You the only one got a key,” he said. He wasn't firm about it, just spelling out the facts as he knew them.

  “It seems not,” I said. “Did you guys get called out again last night when I found that woman strangled?”

  “No.” He shrugged his shoulders. “First I seen of that was on the sheet. Nobody call me.”

  “What time did you get off?” I asked.

  “Twelve,” he said. “Me an’ Scott. We was workin’ four to twelve.” He looked at me, narrowing his eyes. “You din’ take that money, eh?”

  “Of course not.” I didn't want to make a song and dance of it. It wouldn't help. I figured the lawyer Kennedy was sending would be able to get me off within minutes. I hoped he would. Prison is tough for ex-cops.

  Levesque scratched his neck, puzzling. “What's goin’ on?” he asked.

  “I've been set up,” I said.

  He shook his head. Not disagreeing but uncertain. “Listen, you wan’ some coffee?” His tone didn't ring true. It had the same kind of phony brightness you hear in people's voices when they're visiting a terminally sick friend.

  “I'd like some, please.”

  “'Kay. I'm gonna make a pot.” He went out, pulling the door closed quietly behind him. He brought me a cup a few minutes later, not saying anything except “Careful, i's ‘ot.”

  He left me and I sat down and drank it and thought. I was concerned about the prostitute. If she recovered completely she would clear me of any charge of attempted murder. But she might never regain her wits a hundred percent. She might only make it back far enough to be a robot, going through the motions of living, unable to think properly or even to take care of herself.

  But the guy who had strangled her might not know that. He might think she could finger him. I wondered if she was being kept under security at the hospital. And who would be watching her anyway? If it was one of Harding's friends she was going to die.

  In any case, I decided, my attempt to save her had saved my own neck. No jury would believe I had strangled the woman and then brought her back from the grave. But the alleged theft of the money would stick tight. There had been nothing to stop me grabbing her cash before I started giving her CPR. From what I'd seen of the people in town they would enjoy believing that about a policeman.

  The time stretched on. At nine o'clock the door opened again and Harding came in, with Ferris behind him. Both of them looked strained. Harding did the talking.

  “I just had a call from Toronto, Bennett. They tell me a lawyer is coming up this morning. I'm going to delay your bail hearing until he gets here.”

  I nodded and he looked at me for a moment then turned away, not speaking. Ferris let him out and then slammed the door behind him. I lay on the bunk with my hands behind my head and waited.

  Around ten-fifteen I heard a car arrive outside. The door slammed and then after a couple of minutes, the cell-block door opened and Harding came in with a man I knew. Irv Goldman, a sergeant of detectives from Toronto. I've worked with him a number of times and he's a good friend. He'd been at my wedding to Fred. He fixed me with a frown as he walked behind the chief and I kept quiet. He was undercover.

  “Here's your lawyer,” Harding said. “He's going to talk to you while I phone the magistrate, check on when we can have a bail hearing.” His tone was brisk and businesslike; he would not be faulted by this intruder. “Might not be possible until tomorrow.”

  Goldman spoke then. His voice was polite but cold. “He had better be out of this rathole by noon, chief, or I am laying charges of unlawful detention.”

  “You couldn't make them stick,” Harding snapped.

  “Try me,” Goldman said. “But if you enjoy running this department you'll have that bail hearing within the next thirty minutes.”

  Harding said nothing. He drew his mouth tight and left, pulling the door shut behind him. I reached through the bars and shook hands with Irv. “Thanks for coming up. What happened?”

  He tapped his ear with one finger and waved around the walls. I got the message. There might be a bug. Then he answered. “Your buddy asked me to come. Here's my card.”

  He opened his wallet and pulled out a card, he took out a pen and wrote on it before handing it over. When he did I read the name, Walter Baker, Baker, Strauss and Karpus, Solicitors. He had added the words my cousin.

  “Thank you for coming, Mr. Baker. Has the chief told you what I'm charged with?”

  “Theft over two hundred dollars,” he said. “What's the story?”

  I told him, starting with the hours spent watching the hookers catering to the miners. He didn't interrupt, and when I finished he just nodded. “I'll go and see how the bail arrangements are coming,” he said. “Wait here.”

  “What else?” I said and sat down. He grinned and winked at me and went out. Another car arrived a minute or two later and then, after another ten minutes, Harding came in and let me out. He was angry and he did not speak to me, just opened the cell door and beckoned.

  I followed him to the front office where Irv was standing talking to an elderly man in a dark suit. Irv said nothing while the other man asked me if I would abide by the rules he was going to set. I said I would. He told me I could go free on my own recognizance so long as I remained in town and made no attempt to contact Alice Forsythe, also known as Cynthia, Frenchie, and Loretta. I agreed and signed the bail form and they let me go.

  Fred had taken my car when she left in the night so Irv drove me back to the house. As soon as we were out of sight of the station he grinned. “Hey, this legal racket is okay. just make a noise and they listen. Not like bein’ a cop.”

  “Thanks for coming up, Irv. How did it happen?”

  He laughed. “I don't get no respect,” he said. “I must be the only detective in Ontario with a goddamn law degree. Broke my mother's heart when I went into the department instead of hanging out a shingle.”

  I was not up to joking about the way things stood. “Did Leo Kennedy know that?”

  “No. But the computer did,” Irv explained. “When Fred called the Provincial Police Commission last night, they contacted Kennedy and he had someone in the office check the records. Then he got the Metro chief out of bed with the request to use me and here I am. I can give you a hand with the investigation.”

  “It's ugly, Irv,” I said. “They haven't charged me with attempt murder. I guess that would have come if I hadn't managed to get her heart started again. But the theft charge will stick no matter what.”

  “Worry not,” Irv said. “Before you come to court we'll have these bastards locked up for corruption and the whole story'll come out.”

  I was too tired and depressed to think it would be that easy, but I grinned anyway and sat back, pointing out the turns to the house.

  Irv pulled into the driveway and Fred had the front door open before we could get out of the car. She ran down the steps and hugged me. “Are you all right?”

  “Large as life and twice as ugly,” I said and squeezed her. “Irv's my lawyer.”

  “Great. How are you, Irv?” she said and they exchanged kisses. “Come on inside.”

  We went in and thrashed the case out over breakfast. I was weary. Depression, I guess. Being charged with a crime I hadn't committed gave me the same sense of futility you get when you're wounded. You haven't done anything different from normal but suddenly your life has changed. You're out of commission.

  Irv looked at me as he finished his second cup of coffee. “Best thing you can do is sleep, Reid. I'll go into town, ask about Loretta at the hospital, then take a look at the campground, see if there's any footprints into the trees. I'll come back this afternoon.”

  “I'll come with you.”

  He shook his head and stood up. “You'll be sharper after a few hours in bed. See you later.”

  He reclaimed his coat and left, Fred taking him out to his car. When she returned she was looking more ch
eerful. “He's right, Reid. Go and get some sleep. You can work later.”

  She was tired too. I could see it in the smudges under her eyes. She was worried, wishing we had never come to town. I was with her on that one, but the job had gone too far for me to turn back now.

  “Okay,” I said and went to bed.

  I was asleep almost at once and didn't wake until she came in quietly in the early afternoon. “Irv's back,” she said and kissed me.

  I sat up. “Good. I'll grab a shower and a shave and join you.”

  He was sitting at the kitchen table writing up his notes when I came in ten minutes later. He looked up and grinned. “I guess that's as close to human as you get,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

  “About normal for the third week of night shift.”

  “That good, huh?” He laughed and indicated his notes. “Well, I've done some digging and found out a few things, about the town mostly. They aren't in love with the boys in blue up here.”

  “They have good reason.”

  “Yeah, well I had a good talk with the doctor. He thinks I'm a lawyer and he was complaining about the way Ferris in particular clobbers prisoners. He's laid charges a couple of times but nothing came of it. The police have the magistrate in their pocket apparently. Anyway, he says he's keeping the woman in a coma, keeping her body temperature down to lessen the chance of her brain swelling. Seems that can happen sometimes. He figures she won't come around for a couple of days yet, not until the weekend.”

  “Is she under guard?”

  “No. He says that Harding didn't even suggest it. They don't have the manpower to spare a man for full-time surveillance so they're waiting for her to come around and then Harding will go over and take a statement.”

  “Does the doctor think she'll be making any sense?”

  Irv shrugged. “He's not sure. She was without oxygen for a few minutes, he's not sure how long. She could be a cabbage or she could be bright. He's got his fingers crossed.”

  “Me too,” I said. “Is he going to call you when she does come out of it?”

  “Yeah. I want to be there for the statement.”

  “Did you take a look at the site?”

  “Yeah,” he nodded. “It could have been too late. There were all kinds of thrill-seekers up there. I guess there's nothing else in town to think about, except the soap operas. People were all over the place and there were some footprints, but they all ended up against trees, where guys had gone to take a leak. That could have happened any time.”

  Fred came up behind me and put her arms around my neck. I reached up and squeezed her hand. “What do we do next?” I wondered.

  “Well, I've been thinking about that.” Irv stretched luxuriously. “If this was my department I'd order a house to house canvass, check if anyone up that end saw a car coming back from that end of town. If we could backtrack the car that left the scene we might be on to something.”

  “If we're going to do that, you and I will have to do it,” I said and he shook his head.

  “I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, old buddy, but your name is mud around town.”

  I turned to look up at Fred. “This is going to get ugly, honey. I figure you'd be better off at home.”

  “This is my home for the moment,” she said softly. “I knew when we came here that it wasn't going to be easy. I'm staying.”

  “Attagirl,” Irv said. “The old ace here is going to need some moral support.”

  She rested her hands on my shoulders, patting me lightly, almost absently. “I know,” she said.

  She went to the stove and started making coffee. Irv looked at her and nodded appreciatively. “You're a lucky guy, Reid.”

  I knew it but I said nothing and he looked back down at his notes. When he looked up he said, “Do you know where the chief lives?”

  “No.” I shook my head.

  “Thought not,” he said cheerfully. “Well, that's the good news, if we can make it account for anything. He lives on Hummingbird Terrace. That's one of the fancy houses for the mine management.” He tapped his notes with one finger. “And the interesting thing is that it's just in town from the campsite. He could be the guy who went up there and strangled that woman. I timed the driving. He could have been back home within two minutes forty seconds. It would have taken you five minutes to drive there from the center of town.”

  “Then that's what happened.” I stood up, excited. “He went out there to collect his cut, got mad at the girl and choked her. He went home and I went back and found her. He didn't get to the scene for twenty-five minutes, something like that. He had lots of time to drive down to the station and plant the cash, then come on to the trailer site.”

  “Agreed,” Irv said as Fred set down a coffee cup in front of him. “But now comes the difficult part. We have to prove that, beyond the shadow of a doubt.”

  ELEVEN

  “There are two things we can do,” I said. “I'll talk to Randy Wilcox's father. Maybe he knew what his son had seen. If he does, we may have a case. And you could go talk to Berger at the hotel. If we can blow Harding out of the water, the job is done and the case against me collapses.”

  “Okay.” Irv nodded and stood up. “I'll take Berger. I'll tell him you want to talk to him. He may be suspicious of me.” He stood for a moment with his hands on the back of his chair. “The only thing is, I have to leave here tonight. I've got a case in high court tomorrow, a homicide. I have to appear.”

  I nodded. “Okay. If you set it up, I can take care of things from there on. Thanks, Irv.”

  Fred was looking thoughtful. “What about the other woman? Perhaps she saw something.”

  “I took her license number but it's in my notebook, at the police station,” I said.

  “Pity,” Irv agreed. “But I'll call the provincial police, see if they can get hold of her. After what happened to her buddy she may be ready to give them a statement.”

  “In the meantime, she's in danger as well,” I said. “If Harding or whoever it was tried to kill one of them, he'll do it to the other one to make sure she stays quiet.”

  “Yeah.” Irv nodded. “I'll get on to the OPP right away.”

  “How can I help?” Fred asked.

  Irv shook his head. “I think it's better if you stay out of it, Freddi. I'm sure everyone in town knows you by now. If they see you they'll know we're talking about Reid and that may clam some people up tight.”

  She grinned without amusement. “One thing I could do is keep in touch with the hospital, check on the woman's progress.”

  “They'll probably be the same,” Irv said. “They don't want to talk to Reid or you, as his messenger.”

  “No.” I snapped my fingers. “No, we may have an ally. There's a nurse, she's Wilcox's sister-in-law. She was happy about my locking him up. She'll probably give you information, Fred.”

  “I'll talk to her,” Fred said. She looked pleased. She's not the type to twiddle her thumbs while men do the work.

  Irv left, promising he'd be back to tell us about Berger, then head for his flight. I saw him to the door and got my parka.

  Fred watched as I put it on. “You think this man Wilcox will know anything?”

  “Maybe, maybe not.” I shrugged. “I can only ask.”

  She reached up and grabbed the lapels of my parka and kissed me. “Take care.”

  “You too. I won't be long.” I winked at her and left. Sam watched me go and it seemed that there was reproach in his eyes. But I wanted him with Fred. I wasn't sure what would break, but I knew he could take care of her if something did.

  The curtains along the street dipped like flags at a regatta when I came out into the driveway. Harding would not have to tail me, I thought. Any one of the neighbors would tell him whether I was in or not.

  The road to the old town had not been plowed as carefully as the streets in town and I drove carefully. The sun was low and when I rounded the corner and came down the slope to the mill the place looked al
most beautiful. Snow had drifted in over the abandoned buildings and they had a forlorn look, like some castle in a kid's fairy story.

  There was smoke rising from the chimneys of some of the houses and I stopped at the first one and asked where Mr. Wilcox lived. The old lady who came to the door was surprised. “Who wants him?” she asked.

  I smiled. “I used to know his son.”

  “Oh. In that case.” She came out onto the step and pointed to one of the houses further down. “He lives there. Him and that yappy dog of his.”

  I turned to thank her, but she had already closed the door behind her so I got back in my car and drove the last fifty yards. The house looked in better shape than most of the others around. It had been painted recently and there was a good big greenhouse built into the south wall. I could see a man inside, through the steamed-up windows. He was tending flowers. I could hear a dog barking, a small, yappy dog. After a moment the man came to the glass and peered out, shielding his eyes against the sun.

  He saw me and waved me around towards the front door. He opened it as I got there.

  “Couldn't open the greenhouse door,” he said. “One nip of this air and everything's gone.”

  “That's a beautiful show you've got,” I said. Now I was here I wasn't sure how to proceed with him. There was a good chance he would throw me out once I'd given him my name.

  “For sure,” he said. “Come on in.” He was a rangy man in his late sixties, dressed in work clothes that were old but well kept.

  I came in and slipped off my overboots. “Here, I'll show you,” he said. He led the way through the kitchen. It was spotlessly clean. So was his living room. Beyond it, where the window would have been, there were glass doors. He opened them into his greenhouse. It was eighty degrees in there and moist.

  “Reminds me of the boonies,” I said.

  He looked at me very hard. His eyes were a pale blue. “The jungle, you mean. That's why I got into it,” he said. “I was in Burma.”

  As he spoke more I could hear his faint British accent.

  I looked around. “You don't have the same kind of plants but the color's just as strong.”