by Mike Cranny
Norgard lived on his fish boat, the Thetis Island, but it wasn’t in its berth. Archie went down the list of hangouts — the Satsuma Café, Avril’s Donut Shop, Wilkie’s Garage and checked them all out. Finally, he cut back to Moffat’s where Laci Laitenen seemed to have anticipated his visit; she seemed to be waiting for him, in fact. She was trying her damnedest to be friendly. When he asked about Norgard, she almost tripped over her tongue to tell him her story.
“He came back after you left, bought more beer, said he was going fishing. I think he went out in his boat. You won’t see him now for weeks.”
It was a line, rehearsed and he could see that she was pleased with herself for getting it right. He wondered how far he could push her before she used up the script she’d memorized.
“Funny — he didn’t say anything about going fishing when I was here.”
“Just decided to go, I guess.”
He looked around, didn’t see any of the regulars.
“How come you don’t have any customers?”
She puffed air out through silicone lips.
“Slow day.”
He could see her struggling to stay friendly, not easy for Laci Laitenen. She seemed to be unnaturally nervous too, evidenced by her folding and refolding a bar coaster.
“I’ll need to talk to Moffat.”
“He’s not available.”
Archie’s phone buzzed. He checked the call display, saw that it was Lee and walked away from the bar to answer it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Laci edging closer in order to listen. The bar phone rang and he saw her go behind the bar to get it. He was almost out the door when she called him back. He told Lee to hold.
“That was Lars. He says that he’ll meet you at the gravel pit on Sunny Valley Road if you’re interested. He says he’ll wait a half an hour and if you’re not there, too bad.”
“Let me talk to him.”
He started back towards her. She hooked the receiver back into its cradle.
“Too late, he already hung up.”
He shook his head at that, put his phone to his ear and acknowledged Lee.
“I’ve got some important information,” Lee said. “We’ll need to meet right away.”
“Can’t you tell me what it is over the phone?”
“I’d rather not. I went to check something out in our archives and found a mystery I think we ought to discuss.”
Archie looked over his shoulder, aware of Laci who was pretending to clean a table.
“I’ll go outside so we can talk without being heard.”
“That won’t do. This needs to be a face to face.”
“I’ve got something I have to do. I’ll meet you as soon as I can, maybe by noon. Where will you be?”
“I don’t know right now. I’m on the highway heading towards Harsley. I’ll have to get back to you.”
“As soon as I finish up this way, I’ll meet you.”
There was silence on the line and then Lee came back on.
“Sooner the better, Arch,” he said.
“I’ll do the best I can.”
He ended the call; he saw Laci watching him. He couldn’t read the look in her eyes. He pointed at her as he made his way towards the door.
“I’ll need to talk to you some more, Laci. I’ll send somebody over.”
“Whatever you say.”
She leaned her hip into the bar, arms crossed over her chest, unmoving.
“I don’t want you leaving Harsley right now. No quick ferry trips — no anywhere. Understand?”
“Like I said — whatever you say.”
The harsh light from the window touched her face and bleached out her skin. He saw that her mascara had run and she’d fixed it. She’d been crying. He wondered who or what the tears were for. She had such hard eyes it was difficult to imagine her crying for anyone, and he wondered what that meant. On the way to his vehicle, Delia called him and told him that Forensics had identified the blood in Robbie’s pickup. It was Nick Donaldson’s, which meant that Archie could have an arrest warrant issued. The blood didn’t change much in his mind. Robbie had not killed Nick. Not the way Archie had it figured. Not without a motive.
CHAPTER 21
Happy Valley Road was northwest of town and a long drive from Moffat’s. Archie had plenty of time to ponder his next moves. Ideally, Norgard would know where Robbie was holing up, the arrest could be made and, maybe, he might get the answers he wanted. That was the ideal anyway. He pushed a button on the player, selected the Tedeschi Trucks band, turned up the volume, and drove.
The trip took an hour but Norgard had waited for him at the gravel pit. Archie passed an old Pontiac and saw a white Dodge panel van parked near a broken down D-9 Cat. Norgard was sitting on a rock drinking a beer. Archie parked, got out and walked towards him. He was aware that the van was now behind him. The situation made him even more wary and reminded him too much of the ambush on Chinese Cemetery Road. Stupid really. There were procedures a person was supposed to follow so that situations like this one didn’t put a cop’s life more at risk than it already was. And now he had no choice. He brushed his hand against the lump that was the SIG in its holster under his jacket, and carried on.
Norgard watched him, crushed the can he’d just emptied and tossed it aside. Then, still seated, he reached into the case in front of him, pulled out another can and popped the tab. Archie, ready now to draw and shoot at the slightest provocation, relaxed slightly.
“You said you’d pay for information on Robbie,” Norgard said.
Archie had stopped about ten feet from Norgard.
“Sure. What’s up, Lars?”
“You have to give your word that you won’t arrest me if I do you a favour and tell you where Robbie is.”
“You got my word.”
“And I’ll need five hundred bucks.”
“I can get that for you.”
Norgard crushed the second can, reached into the cardboard case. When his hand came up, it had a black automatic in it. Archie raised his hands slightly. He heard the panel door of the van slide open behind him. Norgard motioned with his pistol, motioned him to turn around.
John Robbie stood by the open door of the van, holding a pump-action Remington in one hand. He pointed it at Archie.
“Hi, Arch,” he said.
“You look like hell, John,” Archie said.
Robbie snorted.
“I didn’t kill Nick so there’s no need for you looking for me.”
“Don’t work like that, John, and you know it.”
“I could kill you here. Lars won’t say nothing.”
Archie had changed positions so that he could see Lars out of the corner of his eye. There was a better than average chance that a man would miss with a snap shot from a pistol. The same was not true for a shotgun.
“I guess I’d be wondering what the point of that would be. Everybody’s looking for you, John. At least with me, you got a cop who doesn’t think you planned to murder your partner.”
“You got that right. I didn’t plan it nor did I do it. Might have even been able to save his life but I just got back a bit too late.”
“What’s Lars got to do with all this?”
“It’s up to Lars to tell you that.”
Archie stood waiting for something to happen, for Robbie to get to the point, for an explanation. For long seconds, nothing happened. The air was still and he could hear ravens talking off in the bush somewhere.
“This is way too mysterious for me, John. Are you going to tell me why you and I are here, so I can get on with my day?”
“I don’t even know for sure — not sure what’s in it for me. Maybe you can get me someplace where I can be safe but I doubt it. Maybe you’ll cut me some slack, give me a few days. You could give me half of that five-hundred now too.”
“I can’t do that.”
“You used to be a straight up guy, Arch.”
“We’ve got Nick’s blood in your pickup to complica
te things.”
Robbie laughed half-heartedly and shook his head.
“That’s nothing to do with me and that’s a fact.”
He sat back down in the open doorway of the van, the shotgun loose across his lap. He looked very tired, all the cockiness gone. Sitting down, he looked even smaller than he was. He moved like he was going to bring the Remington up to point but instead he turned, laid it on the floor and slid it into the van. Then he stood, turned, and climbed in after it. The door slid shut and a couple of seconds later the van started. Archie made to move but Norgard told him to stay put. He watched Robbie ease the van around the D-9 and then he gunned out of the gravel pit, spraying stones.
“Give him five minutes,” Norgard said. He reached into the case with his left hand, pulled out another beer, popped the tab, and took a swallow.
“This ain’t a real gun,” he said.
“I know it isn’t,” Archie said. He walked across the gravel to where Norgard was sitting. Norgard handed him the air gun. Archie pointed it at one of the discarded cans and pulled the trigger. The can spun away across the stones. He shot it again and again before he tossed the empty weapon to Norgard.
“Don’t forget my five c-notes,” Norgard said.
“I won’t — I’ll put in a chit.”
Then he turned away and walked back to his car, leaving Norgard on his rock drinking beer.
On the highway, he tried a half dozen times to reach Lee but he was either out of range or away from his phone. John Robbie was the priority now anyway. Archie called the dispatcher. He had her put out a bulletin on the panel van and its license number and then he did a U-turn and headed off in the direction of the Zuider Zee. There was still an outside chance that Robbie would hook up again with Bonnie Tran.
Arnie Bulkwetter was at the restaurant when Archie arrived, half reading a newspaper, half watching Bonnie Tran write the day’s menu on a white board that was set almost too high for her. Bulkwetter shot Archie a conspiratorial grin — Bonnie looked good from the back, hands high over her head, shirt lifted a hand space to reveal a tattoo on bare skin and a pleasantly trim dorsal curve.
Archie shrugged, sat down. He tossed his keys on the counter to catch her attention. She didn’t look back until she’d finished — Special #3: BLT $7.99 includes fries. When she turned to face him, she had a look in her eyes that he couldn’t read, like she wanted to tell him something. She slid him a menu, watched Bulkwetter who drained his cup, got up and left. When he was out of hearing, Archie focussed on Bonnie.
“I saw John earlier today, Bonnie,” he said. “So I know he’s nearby. I got a warrant for your brother too.”
“Good luck with that.”
“Luck doesn’t have anything to do with it. We’ll have him in custody by this afternoon.”
“And then what will you do?”
Her expression was a schoolgirl smirk that took Archie by surprise. It took years off her and erased the hard edges somehow. It made him smile.
“Scare the pants off him, I reckon.”
“If you can do that then breakfast is on the house,” she said.
She poured coffee for him and brought him the apple pie he asked for — even added a free scoop of ice cream. He had known Bonnie Tran for a long time, had even been on friendly terms with her during the wild years. He remembered how Bill Tran had been, how Bonnie had tried her damnedest to keep her brother out of her life — not that it had worked.
CHAPTER 22
The forensics team from Rochville had taken advantage of a generous law and order grant and now had one of the best labs Archie had ever seen. Nice facilities and a real budget gave detectives like Rick Grift, who ran the place, a comfortable arrogance that seemed natural even to Archie. Hard not to be smug when you really do have it all. Besides, Grift was a decent enough guy. Archie had driven up to Rochville to get results from the forensics sweep of the Donaldson place. Grift greeted him like a monarch welcoming a foreign dignitary.
“Hope you had a good trip,” he said.
It was a remark that didn’t warrant a reply since Rochville was only forty miles from Harsley, but Archie, without cracking a smile, insisted that he had indeed had a pleasant journey. Grift nodded gravely and then led him through a maze of labs and offices into a larger space where several lab-coated technicians were busy at their stations. Grift continued through to his own glassed-in office. Archie had asked Grift to have his team give the dive shop a second look.
“I did like you asked for old times’ sake,” Grift said. “Your department’s budget for this doesn’t cover much of the cost of the tests.”
Archie shrugged his shoulders.
“You’ve got the elected representative in your district,” he said. “We’ve got the opposition. Result is that you get the goodies.”
“Could be we’re just more deserving,” Grift said. “But it wouldn’t hurt to vote the other way next time.”
“I’ll think about it. Did you find anything?”
“Don’t know how we missed it the first time. It’s not what we’re used to here, missing things. How’d you know?”
“I didn’t. I just thought that it was a possibility. I had a hunch.”
“Good hunch.”
“I thought it was worth testing Nick’s locker area and the safe for chemicals.”
“Well we did and we found traces of cocaine in the safe,” Grift said. “There was just enough to get a sample we could use.”
“I figured it had to be more than abalone poaching,” Archie said. “There aren’t enough of those around. I checked with Sky Johnnie at Fisheries. Robbie and Nick spent a lot of time on the water so they had to be doing something out there. We’re close enough to the border. I thought there might be some indication that drugs had been kept on the premises. I’m still looking for motive and I don’t see one in mollusc poaching.”
“But you see it in drugs?”
“I don’t know, maybe. It just has to be eliminated is all.”
Grift nodded.
“And the samples from the pickup? Did you get anything there?”
“Blood isn’t John Robbie’s but you know that,” Grift said. “As I said earlier, it’s from your victim — Donaldson. We checked the truck for the usual stuff, found semen smears and the like. I’ll send them off for DNA analysis if you like but that’ll take time. Plus that will cost you.”
“I don’t know if I need them but hang on to them anyway.”
“And the other thing you wanted to know about?”
“The wetsuit was drenched in blood. They found blood all over the cab of that truck. But he bled out in his shop. He must have been wearing the wetsuit when they cut his throat.”
“Okay — what does it all mean?” Grift said.
“I don’t know,” Archie said. “I’ll have to figure that out.”
He left Grift and started back to the station. He speed-dialled Lee. This time Lee picked up. He wasn’t happy
“Isn’t it enough that we have a complicated case without you going all mysterious on us?” he said.
“What are you talking about, Thomas?”
“I’m talking about meetings in gravel pits, lone-wolfing it, jeopardizing yourself and the investigation. Teams coordinate — or had you forgotten that?”
Archie almost said something he would have regretted. But he stopped himself. He knew why Lee was angry. He knew that he should have been open with his team; he was too ready to operate on his own. On the other hand, he was the boss. Lee might not be too pleased — that was obvious — but Archie expected that Lee would get over it.
“What did you want to talk to me about earlier? Archie asked. “You said that there was a mystery we ought to discuss. What as it?”
“It’s important but I still think we need to talk face to face.”
“Alright — I should be back by ten tonight. We can talk then if you’re still around.”
“Where are you going?”
“Later.”
The road was empty, most people being home for dinner at that time of day. The rain came; gusts of wind made driving miserable. It would take him at least a couple of hours to get to Empire City and soon he was wishing he’d called it a day and gone home.
He passed the entrance to the side road, which ran past the lot where John Robbie lived. He had sent Lee there but Lee had said that he’d found nothing of significance in his quick search. Trusting to the other detective’s thoroughness was well and good but Archie had to see for himself. At the very least, he needed to try to get more of a sense of Robbie and his lifestyle. Without a search warrant and without a key to the trailer home, he would need to break in but he was prepared to do that. He slowed down and made a U-turn.
The road was narrow and rutted, it being more of a Forestry supply road than anything else. It had obviously not been maintained beyond the occasional grading — no reason it should be since the logging there had long ceased. The only things at the end of the road now were the devastated slopes of the mountain and Robbie’s old house trailer.
He came to the clearing, stopped the car and scanned the property. The scene was one of desolation. The trailer was an ancient twenty-seven foot with faded paint and enough moss to give it a greenish glow, slowly decaying into the landscape. The mountainside, now barely visible in the failing evening light, was a wasteland of stumps, new birch and alder. Thankfully, the rain had eased.
He parked the Dodge on the pad where Robbie had usually parked his boat and trailer, turned off the ignition, got out and walked to the front door, now blocked with an ‘X’ of yellow police caution tape. He ripped it down and went to work on the lock. Getting inside took him no time at all.