by J M Dolan
“Merde! I’m counting on it,” he said. “If there’s crime, I say arrest the trouble makers.
Jamee laughed at André’s wonky attempt to mimic a crime fighting hero. His forte was the computer. Thankfully, he left the crime fighting to the professionals, and occasionally to Jamee. He claimed, she enjoyed being up on her soap box.
Good to his promise, within seconds the quiet of the office gave way to the hum of the fax machine, warming to receive the incoming call. An impressive number of pages ejected.
Jamee got up from her great-grandfather’s ebony stained desk to retrieve the pages. The dog, asleep on his cedar bed, opened liquid velvet eyes to follow her path across the room.
She loved her office and had decorated the entire house to reflect her Scottish heritage, but here in this room it shone through most clearly. From the multi-paned glass windows draped in tartan, to the same covering on chairs and love seat, the theme was well defined. Perhaps nowhere more so than in the Scottish thistle stained-glass ceiling fixture.
Rich dark woods accented key pieces but nothing was more stunning than the wall unit of tiger oak. It was massive and sturdy. From floor to ceiling the unit filled an entire wall. The fixture dated back to the late 1800’s. It held family keepsakes, pictures of captured memories and her most favoured books.
Gathering up the faxed pages, she poured a new cup of coffee then settled herself behind the desk to begin compiling data. For the next couple of hours, she went hard at it. With the use of a special spreadsheet program, she was able to reference and cross reference, the numerous flights originating out of Kiev with the corresponding passenger lists André had provided. Her perseverance appeared to have paid off when she found Odessa’s name on a flight manifest. The results were unexpected and did nothing to dispel her fears Odessa might be in real trouble. The flight Odessa took from Ukraine was dated a full two weeks earlier on one of the last sheets André sent. Then her name appeared again on a domestic flight twelve days later. No new answers, just more questions. It looked like the wheels on the bus were turning but they weren’t going anywhere.
It was time to give Sam a call.
Jamee dialled his office number. Nancy asked her to hold briefly while she arranged the transfer to Sam’s private line.
It wasn’t long, and Sam’s deep, distinctive baritone came over the line.
“Hello Jamee, you saved me a call.”
Hearing his silky smooth voice, it didn’t take much to have her visualizing the handsome face and strong, sexy physique. Making sure to put some professionalism in her tone, Jamee spoke.
“Sam, I apologize for calling first, and so soon after our meeting.” It came out in a breathy rush, despite her firm resolution. “I know we agreed you’d call me, but I have some additional information. I’d like you to see it, if possible.” Now, that she had him on the phone, she felt a little ridiculous. She couldn’t figure out why he rattled her, but she intended to get over it. Where’s your confidence, girl?
Sam’s reply was quick. “Sure, I can make that work. I’m just going into a meeting related to your inquiry. Once I’m done here, the rest of my day is open.”
“Any chance you feel like a drive?” asked Jamee. It wasn’t what she’d planned to say, but it seemed her mouth had a mind of its own. The words simply popped out. “If you’re interested, we could split the distance and meet for supper in Airdrie. Or, might I interest you in some country cooking? I’ll give you directions and you could come out to the farm.”
“Hard to pass up home cooking.” Sam’s retort was immediate and without reserve. “And a chance to get out of the city with a drive in the country is right down my alley. One condition though, and it’s not a deal breaker, do you have a barbecue?”
Jamee blew out a little breath. “Is the Pope catholic?”
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Sam laughed. “Let me bring the one-inch steaks and a bottle of wine. You can add the sides,” Sam paused, “a glass of wine okay with you?”
“I repeat, Pope — catholic? Plus, Alberta girl here — never meet a medium rare I didn’t appreciate.”
“Great, it’s a date.”
There was just a bit too much happy in Sam’s voice for Jamee. She decided to bring the conversation back on track. Besides, she wasn’t about to be had for a one-inch steak she’d likely have to cook. A girl shouldn’t have to do all the work.
“It’s a business meeting.” She kept her voice crisp. But remembering how much he intrigued her she softened her tone, “but that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy it.”
“Right back at you,” said Sam. “See you at seven.”
“Okay dokey,” replied Jamee.
* * *
Sam heard the click of the phone on the other end and powered off. He’d stepped away from the RCMP meeting Thomas Avery arranged and into the hallway to take Jamee’s call. By mutual agreement they’d decided on Sam’s office to keep the number read-in, to a minimum.
Sam re-entered the room. Walking to his desk he assessed the man seated opposite. With twenty years’ experience on the force and a touch of grey in his platinum blonde hair, Dunbar, a Staff Sergeant with the Calgary RCMP Criminal Investigations Unit, was an old hand at law enforcement.
Introductions were dispensed with, and the Odessa Koval file lay open on the desk between them. The staff sergeant was focused on consulting an electronic tablet to jog his memory for the facts. The veteran officer, had a ‘mentor — kick ass attitude’ that Sam respected right from their initial handshake. Everything about him said, let’s get’er done. A good guy to know, thought Sam.
“Sorry for the interruption,” he apologized.
“No problem, Inspector Craig,” Dunbar said. “I’ve been asked by the office of the Minister of Public Safety to review this case with you, and to provide whatever else you might need.” Dunbar shifted in his seat, narrowing his focus back to the file.
“The discovery of the dead woman was made by a homeless male leaving the city centre shelter. Shortly thereafter, he reported the incident to the Calgary Police Services. They did the initial crime scene evaluation then brought in the coroner for removal of the body and pending autopsy, determination of cause of death. CPS turned the case over to the RCMP once they learned the victim was here on a Temporary Resident Visa.”
Sam nodded. “Which is part of the reason the file was directed here.” Since a foreign national was neither a citizen, nor a permanent resident of Canada, jurisdiction of the case fell to the Federal Government.
Dunbar continued, “I spoke with the coroner on my way over and he emailed me his final report. I’ve cc’d this to you and asked your assistant to print it off for insertion to your file.”
“Very efficient,” commented Sam. “So what does it say?”
“Well, we’re not ruling out homicide,” said Dunbar, “but at this point we’re calling it a suspicious death. The coroner’s report details a fractured skull, crushed cervical vertebrae, massive trauma to the organs and multiple broken bones. It appears she may have fallen or jumped from one of the upper levels of the Stephan Avenue Parkade. The injuries are deemed consistent with a fall. Either of the first two injuries would have caused death within minutes.”
“Any idea how she fell?” asked Sam.
“Not much in the way of clues there,” stated Dunbar. “Police took the witness down for questioning, but he could only provide details of when he found the deceased. I met him myself and he seemed sincere. I didn’t find any reason to doubt his story. He swore he hadn’t touch the body or any of the evidence.”
Dunbar leaned forward to consult his notes.
“He entered the shelter shortly after midnight…left early the next morning…four-thirty-two for his job at a bakery – Molly’s Marvels. He does prep and cleanup.
“She was obviously dead was his statement — no need to look further.” He continued to read. “Didn’t leave the scene. Had a pay and talk cell phone, called 911 from the scene.
&nb
sp; The Staff Sergeant straightened to make eye contact. Sam felt it was now his turn to be measured.
“Strangely, we found a pair of leopard print, spike-heeled ladies dress shoes on the fifth level of the parkade,” said Dunbar. They were thrown up against the concrete barrier wall near where we think the woman went over. A drop from that height would have been fatal. I’m inclined to tie them to the deceased as she was bare foot when found.”
“Assumptions aren’t normal police practise,” Sam commented. Dunbar struck him as a by the book operator. “So why would you say that?”
“Without much to go on, I agree I’m reaching here,” said Dunbar. “I’ve included some copies of photos of the scene and other possible evidence that we’re still looking at. I should add, the shoes were the deceased woman’s size.”
Sam decided to push a little. “I realize it’s early. Any idea what direction the investigation is taking?”
Dunbar shot Sam a measured look then cleared his throat. “I hate to quote ‘gut instinct’, but somehow I have a vibe that my suspicious death case file, might become a murder book. We are canvassing the area, talking to the locals, but so far no leads. It could be suicide — it could be murder. At this point, it’s going down as an unexplained death.”
Sam put down his pen. He’d made a few additional notes in the margins of the pages. “I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me, Staff Sergeant.” He held out a business card. “Here’s my personal contact information. If anything, new develops, I’d appreciate hearing from you, no matter how vague it might seem.”
Dunbar rose following Sam’s lead.
They shook hands and Sam walked him to the door. He paused, one last thing on his mind.
“Thomas Avery in the Minister’s office may have told you I’m purposely looking into anything that would tie specific criminal activities to illegal immigration. Should anything come to your attention, please don’t hesitate to contact me.”
“You can count on it,” Dunbar promised.
Chapter Five
The drive to Jamee’s was superb. If Sam was looking for a way to cheat the encroachment of winter, it was hard to beat an Alberta Indian Summer day. Using his vehicle’s GPS unit, he was soon headed down the township road east of Airdrie and up the intersecting range road to the Blair farm gate.
Typical of Alberta’s southern prairie, the terrain was slightly rolling and vast. Near a cattle gate and the turn to Jamee’s long driveway the earth split to open form a coulee. Golden, waist-high prairie wool suddenly transformed into tufts of grass and sprigs of willow owing to spring water trickling slowly through the hummocked hollows. The earth fissure started near the west end of the property, passing close to one side of the farmhouse before being swallowed back into the earth and finally closing near the east fence. As coulees went, it was a great one with enough space and water to pasture livestock and provide protection from the elements.
A pump house had been set up below an outcropping of slate ledges which joined to form a natural basin. Sam guessed the spring provided water for the house and the pump lifted it, adding the necessary pressure.
A twelve foot Caragana shelterbelt ablaze in fall amber separated the pasture land from the farm yard. The two-story, square and four traditional farmhouse was nestled within the hedge’s windbreak. Bridging the space between the house, a small garden plot and the Caragana hedge was a patio area with sheltering pergola.
The house was painted a cheery pristine white with green roof and shutters. A stylish sunroom with bay window located at the front entrance, transformed the cube silhouette of the house and mirrored a matching window at the opposite, back-porch end. The kitchen, adjacent to the porch, with east facing bay window looked out to several farm buildings including a small red barn. Sam could see corrals and wondered if Jamee kept horses.
He parked his BMW in front of the small garage painted to match the house. Getting out, he approached the glassed porch side entrance. Ferocious barking announced his arrival, but a sharp, single-worded command brought immediate quiet. Jamee opened the door and released a liver and white dynamo.
He stopped in half stride wine, flowers and steaks held high. The little pup was all stored energy, waiting for opportunity. She sped like an inflated balloon with an untied end. The little creature burned a couple of quick doughnuts then streaked towards Sam. Sliding into first, the dog didn’t jump, but stayed four feet glued to the ground as she’d been trained to do.
“Sit,” Jamee commanded the dog.
The exquisite Springer Spaniel plopped her butt on the ground, her body quivering with anticipation and excitement. She was the prettiest hunting dog he’d ever seen, eloquent eyes, silky coat and a refined grace that was all lady from Disney’s, Lady and the Tramp.
“Whoa, who do we have here,” said Sam.
“Let me introduce you to Tess. Sorry, she’s always a little over eager for company. Just give her a minute and she’ll go from electrically charged to saucy flirt.”
Sam studied the splashy spots and ermine pattern that made her look speckled, the feathery fringe on her legs and gorgeous plumbed tail. “She has the most amazing coat and markings. Very distinctive,” he said with admiration. “Me, I have a cat.”
The dog pranced back to Jamee’s side, tail wagging. “You bettcha.” Jamee bent down to give the dog a hug. “She’s a real cutie pie, and mostly, a very good girl.” The dog leaned into her and Jamee’s face lit up like a candle’s glow. “I’d be lonesome without her. Plus, she gives me piece of mind. Bonus — Tess is an effective security system.”
Sam shifted his full attention to the woman. She stood on the porch steps in the tempering light. The stylish, softly flowing turquoise dress gave a punch to the blue of her eyes. The material draped across full breasts and hugged luscious curves, yet floated when she moved to push the door fully open. The hemline ended just above the knees showcasing a pair of exceptional, shapely legs in open-toed high heeled shoes.
“She’s as pretty a picture as her mistress,” said Sam. He held out the autumn floral bouquet enjoying the surprised and pleased look on Jamee’s face. His mind filled with one thought – I’ve been waiting for you and that’s the truth of it.
“Why Sam,” Jamee accepted the flowers slanting him a wide-eyed look through thickly fringed lashes, “you a bit of a player?”
He walked up the steps. “I like women if that’s what you mean, and I like to flirt, but I only play for keeps.” His voice was a low rumble.
Sam stopped a hair’s breadth from touching her, the attraction between them a palatable thing. He saw the flare of her nostrils as she breathed him in and he leaned forward to lay a brush of lips across her cheek. He sensed her delectable shiver and felt a yearning so strong he nearly spoke the words that lay in his thoughts. Words that begged — take my lips like a lover’s kiss. Damn, thought Sam, he was becoming a romantic. The dress swirled as Jamee turned into the house, he and Tess followed.
Sam had toured the main floor of the house, glass of red wine in hand, Jamee acting as guide. It was easy to admire the Scottish décor and comfortable surroundings. The barbecue had been outstanding with Sam tending the grill and the dog a delight when she’d playfully drawn him into a game of catch. Jamee, with good timing, had appeared to make sure things didn’t burn. It gave Sam a chance to indulge in a little horse play with Tess – nothing like a boy and a dog.
Now they were settled in Jamee’s office with after dinner coffees and rhubarb pie, which Jamee had confessed a weakness for. Tess lay snoozing on her bed in the corner. Sam took his first bite, the fluffy pastry melted around the tart-sweet filling drawing forth a moan he didn’t try to stifle.
“Mmm, I need the name of your bakery,” he said around a second large bite.
“Ha, that would be me.”
“Good God woman, you can bake.”
Jamee sent him a grin. “Thanks”
Sam reached over and lifted his briefcase onto the coffee table. He popped
the lid and took out a file folder, but purposely, left it closed. Returning the case to the floor he sat back to polish off his pie. No point in ruining good pie with bad news.
“Can I get you another piece?”
“Thanks, I’m good. It was great.”
He passed his plate to Jamee and opened the file. She moved to stack the empty plates nearby then returned to sit next to him.
“So, what you got Sam?” She leaned back into the cushion, confident. “Patience is not my best virtue.”
“I’ve found your missing caregiver.” He spat it out, and watched hope and relief flood her expression as she leaned forward to pore over the open case file.
“Why didn’t you lead with that three hours ago?” Her tone was a touch indignant.
“Because, you’re not going to like it,” he said. “She’s dead.”
His statement dropped like a rock between them. He hoped it justified his delay in telling her. Nice supper first, bad news later. He could read the edge of shock and stark disbelief in her expressive eyes and regretted not softening the harshness of his statement.
Jamee moved to an ornate cabinet and selected a liqueur to add some badly needed kick to their coffee. “Are you sure Sam?”
“I’m sorry to be the purveyor of more bad news. In my opinion you’ve had your fair share.” Sam nodded his okay when Jamee hesitated briefly over his cup. She added a good sized glug as Sam continued. “Immigration documents found with the victim definitely belong to Odessa Koval. Do you have a picture I can compare?”
Jamee recapped the bottle then bent to shuffle through her file. She handed Sam two pictures. “Don’t worry” she said when he blocked the grisly crime photos. “I’m not squeamish. I graduated college as a medical lab tech then did a short stint at a crime lab.” Jamee slid her chair around next to Sam. “Regrettably,” she pulled closer to the table, “I’ve seen a thing or two.”