by Ted Wood
“Something's wrong,” Kemp said. “With the bag included this should weigh enough to lift the weights.”
None of us spoke as he removed one of the weights and replaced it with something smaller. Then the pan sank and the weights lifted.
Kemp turned to look at me, his mouth a straight line. “This isn't gold at all,” he said. “It's something lighter. A mixture of lead and something, I guess.”
TWENTY-ONE
He looked at me with grim satisfaction in his face. “This makes things a lot easier to understand.”
“How so?”
Kemp smiled, a relieved little flick of his cheeks. He was still intense but his early shock was over. “It hasn't been stolen from our storeroom. He must have made these up to sell to some gullible person.”
“What about the color?”
“Paint, probably.” He pulled a Swiss army knife out of his pocket and slit the evidence bag then took out one of the billets and scraped it. I leaned over the desk to watch. The metal was soft and it scratched easily, showing gray underneath. “Gold paint,” he said and handed the billet to me.
“I guess that shoots down my theory about a gold heist tomorrow,” I said.
Kemp nodded. “Yes, probably Nunziatta himself made these.”
I nodded. “If you don't mind, I still want to keep tabs on your gold until it leaves our jurisdiction.”
Kemp frowned. “Does this mean we won't be getting the escort we usually get?”
“Whatever I do will be extra. I haven't been told anything about escort duty. Do you usually speak directly to the chief?”
“Always,” he said. He seemed stern. He wasn't comfortable with what I'd suggested and it was up to me to take his worries away.
“And he's been notified about this shipment?”
“Yes. I have no reason to expect it will be different in any way from our routine,” he said.
“It almost certainly won't be different,” I said. “But I'd like to watch as it moves, that's all.”
He frowned. “Is that how you want it done?”
“Yes. I just want to add a little extra protection,” I said. His probing was making me less and less sure of myself. I had nothing to go on but an X on a dead man's calendar. At three in the morning it had seemed important. Now I wasn't so sure. “If I can just ask you to keep it confidential, please. I'm not sure how long my cover story will stand up now but I can keep on for a while if you'll go along with me.”
“Yes, I will,” he said formally. He sat thinking for a moment until his phone buzzed. He picked it up. “Yes, Jennie?” Then he covered the receiver and said, “If you'll excuse me, sergeant, I have an important call here.”
I stood up. “Thank you for your help, Mr. Kemp. I'll be looking out for your shipment in the morning.”
“Good.” He smiled a formal little smile and shook my hand.
I left alone and went out to the reception desk where I called the station and raised Levesque who was on patrol in town. He said he would come over and get me. I sat and leafed through back copies of The Northern Miner and waited.
The receptionist saw the police car coming up and she gave me a beautiful smile and pointed it out. I thanked her and left, zipping up my parka. It was not yet five but already it was dropping dark. The parking lot was emptying as the miners who had got off shift at four and showered were heading back to town.
Levesque stayed in the car and waited apparently without caring whether I was coming out or not. He didn't speak when I got in but drove away with great precision. I could tell he was reliving that last moment before he pulled the trigger. “You okay, Al?” I asked.
He nodded. “Yeah. I guess.” He drove for a minute or so, then started to talk, almost to himself. “I never killed nothin’ before. I don’ even hunt.”
“You had no choice with Harding giving the order.” It wasn't quite true, but it was what he needed to hear.
He nodded, then turned his face to me, slowing the car. “You ever kill anybody?”
“I've had to,” I said.
He looked ahead again and picked up the speed a little, both hands on the wheel, like a teenager taking his driving test. “Yeah. But you was in a war.”
“And as a cop. It happens sometimes.”
He wound the window down, letting in a knife edge of bitter air, and spat thinly into the slipstream. “In front of his goddamn wife an’ kids,” he said.
“Look, Al, it's done. If it helps, the guy was a lousy sonofabitch. He was pushing drugs to schoolkids. He slapped his wife around. The only person regretting the fact that he's dead is you. And that's wasted worry.”
“I'm gonna quit this job,” he said. I didn't answer and he rambled on. “Like I always figured I was ‘ard. You know. Fights? I love fights. I get in dere an’ I fight an’ love it. But I don’ do it no more.”
“You probably won't have to. People will respect you for what you did. Everyone knew he was pushing drugs. People will say you did a good thing.”
He glanced at me again. “You t'ink so?”
“I can promise it.”
“Well, I t'ink about what you say,” he said. “I t'ink maybe I ask the chief for some leave. Take the wife back to Trois Rivières, see her folks.”
“Just so you don't sit around town. If you do you'll feel worse,” I said. “Don't worry, you're a good guy, Al. People know that. Tough but good.”
“I finish bein’ tough,” he said and fell silent.
“My car's in front of Nunziatta's house,” I told him. He nodded but didn't answer so I plowed on, giving him a preview of my story. “That guy Roberts was worried what his boss would say about him taking so much time away from his office. Had me go back with him and explain what had happened.” I shook my head in disgust. “And he says he's an executive.”
“I ‘ear that guy Kemp, ‘e's tough,” Levesque said. “It was ‘im set the rules, no booze in camp. Before that they ‘ad a wet canteen. Guys could get a beer when they were done their shift.”
I hadn't known anything about Kemp, and I followed up on the information, as much to keep Levesque's mind off his own sorrows as for the information itself. “How long's he been in charge?”
Levesque shrugged. “Six month’ maybe.”
I let it go at that and he dropped me at my car. I'd left Sam in the backseat and now I allowed him a quick stretch while I started the car and ran the defrosters to clear off the ice that had formed on the windows from his breathing. Then I got Sam back in and drove to the station.
I took him in with me and set him down in the guardroom while I went into the chief's office. He was sitting there with his tunic unfastened, the first time I'd seen him looking less than rigid. I thought I could smell liquor, but except for the loose buttons he seemed normal. “What did you find out?” he asked.
“Nothing of any consequence. Nunziatta had five hundred in fifties in his wallet.” I sat down without waiting for an invitation. “That guy Roberts is a wimp,” I said.
“How do you mean?” The chief looked puzzled and a touch vague. I was right about the smell of liquor.
“He was nervous about taking time out from his office, insisted I go back to see his boss and explain what's going on.”
“What did you tell him?” Harding asked quickly.
“I told him that Nunziatta was threatening his wife and kids with a rifle. We had to take him out. Period. The big thing I told him was that we wanted photographs for the inquest and that Roberts is the best guy in town to provide them.”
“And that was enough?” Harding asked, more easily now.
“Yes, sir. He just wanted to know why his chief accountant was out playing cops and robbers when they've got a mine to run.”
Harding sighed. “Okay. I guess that's fair enough.” He sighed again, and this time I caught a solid gust of whisky in the air. “There will be an inquest, of course. I'll give a statement, so will Levesque. He was the one who pulled the goddamn trigger. Not me.” He stared at
me to see if I was going to argue. I said nothing and Harding went on. “What will you say, sergeant?”
“I'll tell it like it was,” I said.
“And how do you think it was?” He had picked up the pen from a fancy presentation set on his desk and was playing with it. His knuckles whitened as he squeezed it. He was right on the edge.
“That Nunziatta had already fired a number of times, that he'd been using drugs, amphetamines probably. He was threatening his wife when the shot killed him.”
Harding let the pen drop and leaned back. “Good. Why don't you type it up and then go home. There's nothing else to be done tonight.”
“How about you, chief? Are you okay? It's been a tough day.”
“These are the pressures of the office,” he said.
I glanced at him to see if he smiled, but he was completely serious. This was the way he would talk at the inquiry. I wondered again whether he had the moxie to be involved with anything crooked. It must have been as much as he could do to get up in the morning and get dressed.
“Anything happening tomorrow?” I asked innocently. It was his chance to tell me about the gold duty.
“There's a special assignment first thing,” he said. Then he checked himself as if stifling a burp. “But I always take care of it. No need to concern yourself.”
“Whatever you say, chief.” I stood up. “I'll type my report and leave it for you.”
“Good.” He nodded, not looking at me. I waited a moment, then walked back to the guardroom. I thought I heard a clink as I left but didn't look back.
When I'd typed out a bare-bones account of what had happened I took it back to Harding. This time he didn't bother hiding his glass. It was half full, sitting on the blotter in front of him.
“Here's the report, chief. I'll see you in the morning.”
“Right.” He frowned at me blankly, as if trying to remember who I was. I nodded and left.
Fred was her usual cheerful self when I got home. She came to the door and kissed me. I hung on to her and then she led me through to the kitchen. “You're getting a good healthy supper tonight,” she said. “We've been eating too much red meat. I got a nice pickerel from the market.”
“Sounds good.” I patted her on the shoulder and slipped out of my parka, hanging it over the back of the chair.
She laughed and pointed at it. “Those brass things beside the back door are coathooks.”
“Nag nag nag,” I kidded and hung up the coat.
After I'd washed she asked, “So, how was your day?”
“Crowded,” I said. “I guess you heard the scuttlebutt.”
“About the man who was shot?” Her voice lost its lightness and I realized she had been acting for me. The brightness was all assumed.
“That was unnecessary,” I said. “Listen, Fred, the more I see of this place and the guy in charge, the more I wish you'd head back to Toronto for a couple of weeks until I'm through here.”
She went on tearing up lettuce, not looking at me. “I've considered it, Reid. But we're a team and no team has it easy all season.”
I kissed her and she clung to me. “It's a bloody mess isn't it?” she whispered into my shoulder.
“Yes. I'm afraid it is.” I squeezed her shoulders and then released her and she went back to the salad. “Just say the word and I'm gone.”
“No.” She was almost fierce with me and I realized, not for the first time, that she came by her Irish red hair honestly. “No, Reid. These are good people. They deserve proper police work, not the travesty they've had until now.”
“Well, I think tomorrow is the breakpoint.” I sat down at the table and she set down the salad and started serving the fish. “After this gold shipment in the morning I think my cover's blown. They've promised at the mine to keep it quiet until then. But someone will talk.”
“What gold shipment?”
I remembered I hadn't given her the details and I apologized quickly.
“Sorry, love. I've been thinking about it all day. There was a note on Ferris's calendar for tomorrow and I find a gold shipment is moving. I want to see nothing happens to it. After that I think the mine manager will let it slip that I'm on the inside and I'll have to quit.”
“Is it liable to be dangerous?” She dissected her fish carefully as she talked.
“I don't think so. But if something does happen I'll know who's to blame and we can call in the OPP and ride out of town.”
“A gold shipment,” she said carefully. She was looking at me and I noticed that she had the hint of circles under her eyes, something I had never seen there before. “A gold shipment is big time, Reid. Some very nasty things could happen if someone tries to steal it.”
“Nothing I can't handle,” I said. “I'm not going into this with my eyes closed.”
She set down her knife and fork and folded her hands. “And what do you plan to do, husband mine?”
“I'm not sure there's much I can do except follow it to the edge of our jurisdiction. Then I just come home and go to work like any other day.”
“That's all? Just follow it?” She frowned. “Doesn't sound very cunning. I thought you had some sneaky plan forming in that tiny mind.”
“What else is there to do?” I shrugged. “Hell, I've never planned a heist. All I've ever done is act on tip-offs and been waiting around with a reception committee when it happens.”
She picked up her knife and fork again and began to eat, but not with any enthusiasm. “Tell me how much you know,” she commanded. “I don't have anything else to worry about tonight.”
So I filled her in, giving her everything, including the phony gold that I had found on Nunziatta. She listened, nibbling at her dinner, and I sat back. “So I'm not sure what to do other than follow the van. What do you think?”
Now she said, “That's better. I hate it when you come on all strong and silent with me.”
I held out my hand to her and she left her chair and came around the table to kiss me. “You have to understand that you're not the typical policeman's wife,” I told her.
“I try not to be the typical anything,” she said, “although it's getting harder to avoid the clichés these days.”
I shoved my chair back from the table and pulled her onto my lap. “You want to explain that for a male chauv?”
“No.” She laughed and stood up. “We'll see how good a detective you really are.”
I was puzzled, but it seemed I'd been that way since waking up that morning, so I just helped her with the dishes and left, promising to be back soon. I had some checking to do.
My first visit was to the motel. There was no need to go in. A plain brown van was sitting on the lot. I stood on the back bumper and jiggled but the van hardly moved. Heavy-duty shocks and springs. Bingo. I'd found the gold truck. I memorized the license number and drove over to the old town and called on Wilcox. He was washing his supper dishes and offered me a cup of coffee. I thanked him but refused. That time of night coffee is death on sleep and I planned to get eight full hours before starting for the mine next morning.
He dried his dishes and sat down, “So what've you come up with?”
It didn't take long to fill him in. He listened carefully, rolling one of his cigarettes, then lit it and blew out a long pleasurable column of smoke. “So, Nunziatta was in on something. You think he was gonna pull this gold heist?”
“Could have been, but that chance is shot, if you'll excuse the joke. No, I think the only thing I can do is follow the van to the edge of town in the morning and turn it over to the OPP.”
He nodded. “Yeah. I've been trying to think of something clever to do, but there's nothing. If we was to head off the van and get it away from the police escort it still wouldn't do us any good. We're not there to protect it, we're using it as bait.” He mused for a moment. “Yeah, that's all, wait to see if some bastard tries to steal it, then see who they are.”
“That could be hazardous to your health,” I said.
He nodded and gestured with his cigarette. “So're these things, but I'm not about to give ‘em up.”
“Well, okay. How about I meet you at the mine site tomorrow morning, around six. The shipment's leaving at seven. We'll follow it in your car. The guys on the department would recognize mine. I've got my handgun back and we have your rifle.”
He nodded slowly. “I'd like that a whole lot,” he said. “I haven't used a rifle for real in most of forty-five years. Be good to use it again.”
“Remember we can't take anybody out. We shoot only if we have to protect ourselves and we shoot to take prisoners, not to kill.”
“Yeah. I'll remember that,” he said. “What else?”
“There isn't anything else. Whatever happens tomorrow morning, I'm just about through here. There's no chance of my keeping on here much longer. Too many people know about me now.”
“Then we better make it good,” he said. “Now why'n't you go on home and I'll get a good night's sleep.”
“Sounds good,” I said.
“Right.” He stood up. “See you in the morning. There's a pull-off on the road a little ways past the mine gate if you come out from town. I'll be there at six.”
“Thanks.” I shook hands with him and he asked, “Bringing that big mutt of yours?”
“He's earned his keep at times like this before,” I said.
“Fine. May have to run some sonofabitch down in the woods,” he said. “That's more'n I'm up to. Or this guy.” He picked up his terrier and it yapped at me as he showed me out.
New snow was dusting down and I could see the tracks of a single car on the roadway. About usual for this time of night, I figured.
It was only nine when I got home and I sat with a book while Fred worked on the play she had selected, trying to decide which of her women would be best suited for which roles. She was concentrating so I didn't interrupt, finally closing my book and watching her with real pleasure. She looked up and caught my eye and winked at me. “Be right with you, sailor,” she said.
At ten o'clock I stood up and put my book aside. “I want to be up early so I'm going to turn in. You want to work a bit longer?”