by Ted Wood
'You've got a lot on your mind, haven't you?' she said as I took her back to her room.
'Yes, there's a whole complicated case going on right now at the Harbour and I'm up to my rear end,' I admitted.
'First things first,' she said. 'Why don't you go back down there and get on with your job? I'm fine here. I'll be out tomorrow and we can take it from there.'
I found out what time I could pick her up and she kissed me gently and I left, dropping in on Ms Tracy's room on the way out. She was still unconscious but there was a policeman with her, reading a paperback book. He had a tape-recorder with him and he seemed a capable guy. I chatted with him for a minute, giving him a few details that would help him to talk to her, then left and drove back to the Tracy place to relieve Mrs McQuaig.
She was sitting in her car across the road from the Tracy place, listening to classical music. Nobody had come back, she told me and I thanked her and she left.
I took the fingerprint kit out of my car and went inside, leaving Sam to 'keep' outside. He picked himself a shady spot under a tree and sat there, watchfully.
Now I had time I examined the house properly, seeking anything I might have missed in my haste to get Ms Tracy to hospital. First I checked the kitchen. She had probably been here when the man arrived, eating her grapefruit. I tried to put myself in her place. She had been alone, otherwise two coffee cups would have been in use, so she must have heard the car drive up and gone to the front door. Then she must have recognized the caller. Otherwise she would not have let him in. She was alone, in her housecoat. After the things that had happened at Murphy's Harbour in the last couple of days most women would either have ignored a stranger until they had got dressed or else spoken to him through the closed door. That meant her attacker was no stranger to her.
That much was good news. When she recovered consciousness she could give us a name. Dandy. I could issue a warrant for the guy and when we got him it might even help in my search for Waites' killer, or the man who had beaned Mrs Jeffries and stuffed her into the trunk of the Waites Honda. Maybe.
In the meantime I did the job thoroughly. First I examined her housecoat and nightgown for blood traces. There were none. So the attacker had stripped her first, possibly raped her first, before he beat her up. On that thought I examined the bedding. There was blood on the pillows and the top of the sheet but it was only smears, there was no spotting as there might have been if the attack had taken place as she lay there. So I looked all around the room, and then I found bloodstains on the wall beside the door. I checked the height, remembering how tall Ms Tracy was, about five-eight. The marks were an inch or two lower, as if someone had rammed her head into the wall.
I thought about that for a long time, putting the fact together with the placement of the injuries on her face. It made sense. The upper part of her face had the worst damage, mostly around the eyes.
There didn't seem much for it but to wait until she woke up and gave us a statement, but in the meantime I dug out a few flakes of bloodstained plaster board and put them in an evidence bag. I also made detailed notes of the location of the bloodstains and entered them in my notebook, together with a sketch of their appearance. Then I examined the bed again and this time found bloodstains on the heavy old alarm clock on the bedside table. There was a fingerprint on the glass, clearly delineated in blood. I got my kit out and lifted it on tape, then dusted the rest of the clock, finding another print on the back.
Next I checked the bathroom and the kitchen for signs that the man had washed his hands there after the attack. Unless he had been crazy that would have been his logical move before leaving the house. I found nothing visible. Perhaps a forensics team might, in the sludge of the U-trap under the sink, but that was out of my league so I concentrated on trying to pick up other prints. I lifted a set off her coffee cup and then her lipstick cartridge and then had to admit I was stumped. There was nothing else I could do on my own.
Before I left I called the hardware store on the highway and had them send a guy up with a sheet of glass to fix the back door. I also asked him to bring a padlock and hasp for the front door. Without Ms Tracy's keys I would have had to leave the place open if I was to look in here again before she returned.
He came right up, a chatty kid of about nineteen who tried to find out what happened. I told him the place had been broken into and the owner had asked me to install a lock. That satisfied his curiosity. Break-ins don't happen often but he just muttered about goddamn kids while he quickly and efficiently closed the place up. By the time he had finished it was noon and I drove back to the police station with Sam.
There was a Cadillac parked outside with a woman in it. Mrs Freund, I remembered. I got out and went over to her. 'Sorry if I've kept you waiting. I had another emergency this morning.'
She didn't acknowledge my answer. 'Where's Phillip?' she asked.
'He's up at the house he's painting. Does he know you're coming?'
'I thought you would have brought him here as you promised.' She was glad of the chance to attack me, but my shoulders are broad. If you want popularity you join a rock group, not a police department. I looked her over. She was forty-fiveish, smartly dressed in a linen suit, carrying a briefcase. She was handsome rather than pretty, a brunette, heavier than she might have been for her height but attractive for all that. Her appearance shouted 'money'.
'I've just been investigating an assault case. It took precedence over our rendezvous. Come inside, please.'
I unlocked the station and led her inside. She looked around contemptuously but said nothing. I let her through the counter and offered her a chair. She shook her head but I sat down anyway. I was in charge here.
'What, precisely, is my son charged with?'
'At the moment, thanks to the generosity of the woman he assaulted, there are no charges outstanding. However, if you choose to open all this up again, he faces a slate of charges.'
'What are they?'
'Assault, first, as mentioned. He pushed a middle-aged woman down on the ground. Secondly, drinking under age. Thirdly, theft and public mischief. Fourth, having a weapon dangerous to the public peace. Fifth, and this one won't sit well with you he tells me, causing unnecessary pain and suffering to a dog.'
She went pale under her tan. 'What happened, Officer?'
'Why don't you sit down, Mrs Freund?' I suggested again. 'Would you like a glass of water?'
'No, thank you. I don't need water,' she said but she sat, holding her briefcase on her lap.
'Your son got mixed up with a youth gang,' I told her. 'It's a gang I very much want to track down because it's involved with another case. The leader of the gang is Eric Hanson, the man you represented in Parry Sound yesterday.'
She was startled. 'Hanson works for a client of my firm. He's in his twenties, far too old to be involved in some kid stuff gang business.'
'He's dropped out of sight. I want to talk to him. Do you know where he was going when you had him released?'
'No. But the Parry Sound police have his Toronto address. That's good enough, surely.'
'He's not there, we're told. I wondered if you knew where he might have gone.'
She shook her head. 'I represented him at the bail hearing. Acting on the facts as I saw them, I was able to get him released on his own recognizance. He's to show up again for a court appearance on Monday next. I expect he'll be there. In the meantime I imagine he's taking some time to think things over.'
'I hope you're right. But in addition to the charges against him he's the guy behind your own son's trouble.'
'How so?' Her face was grim. She would be a tough opponent in court, I imagined.
'He's auditioning for some film part. He put together a gang of disaffected kids. Twice over the last two days they swarmed properties on Main Street here. On the second occasion, your son was carrying a baseball bat with which he killed a dog. The owner tried to hold him but he pushed her over and assisted in the swarming of the store before s
he could get up to help. He got away. Then later he came back into town and went into the beverage room where he was drinking beer when I arrested him.'
She pursed her lips, breathing heavily. I waited for her to speak. When she did it was so low I could hardly hear her. 'This would never have happened if he had a real father.'
'It would never have happened if your son had not been ripe for recruiting. And what makes it all the more complex is that the film this Hanson is trying to get into is one your client, Ms Tracy, is producing.'
'I know nothing of her work. She was John Waites' client. I merely acted for him as he was on vacation.'
'You know he's been murdered?'
'I learned that yesterday at the police station in Parry Sound. It was a shock to me.'
'I think maybe Hanson can help us understand what's going on. And just to complicate things further, Ms Tracy was assaulted this morning. She's unconscious in Parry Sound hospital.'
'Good God.' She shook her head as if the information had wedged itself somehow in her receptors. 'This all makes Phillip's problems seen very small.'
'They can be small. If you just let him go on the way he's going today. He's making amends and building some self-confidence.'
'You know these people well, do you?'
'Very well. Their son's a lawyer with the Crown Attorney's office in Toronto. They're exceptional people. I'd trust them with anything.'
Surprisingly her next comment wasn't about the tangle of problems around us. She spoke very softly. 'It hasn't been easy, bringing him up on my own.'
I wanted her help. Maybe she could find Hanson for us, or get Ms Tracy to fill us in on whatever was going on. I chose my words carefully. 'I think you'll be comforted to know that he's changed from the first time I met him. I think he was trying on the rebellion thing and he's found it doesn't suit him. He's a changed boy.'
Without warning she started to sob. It was so out of character with her businesslike clothes and manner that I was startled. I got up and handed her the office box of tissues and then went out to the cells and ran her a glass of cold water. By the time I brought it back to her she was in control of herself and she took the glass gratefully and sipped. I sat and waited until she set it down and spoke again.
'I've been on my own with Phillip since he was twelve,' she said. 'I do what I can but there's no male example in his life. I know it's not healthy but what can I do?'
'What happened to your husband?' I didn't really care but it seemed like a humane question. I figured she would chat for a few minutes and then I could shoo her back where she'd come from so that her son could keep on painting and growing himself some backbone.
Her answer shocked me. 'He was a criminal,' she said. 'He was sent to prison for ten years.'
'Does Phillip know this?'
'No. I told him his father had left me and we moved away from the area where we'd been living before. None of our neighbours knows any more than I've told them.'
'That's five years ago. Your husband should be getting out soon.' I wondered what he'd done. Ten years is a savage sentence for anything less than murder. He must be a hard case. Maybe her concern was for the fact that he would be back on the street in the near future.
'We're divorced now.'
'Then your only concern has to be your son.' Way to go, Dear Abby. 'If you like I can take you up to see him, but if you want my honest opinion, it would be better if he stayed there until he's finished his job. A couple of days should do it.'
She blinked a couple of times before speaking but her voice had regained its strength. 'You seem like a very sensible man. If you believe this is best for him, I'll go along with you.' She stood up. 'Thank you for being so considerate. I take it that you personally have dropped the drinking under age charge?'
'Yes. It's trivial, most kids try it.'
She held out her hand and I shook it as she went on. 'I'd like to compensate the woman. What do you suggest?'
'She told me that she didn't want your money. She's pleased that Phillip came and apologized to her and she's happy to have her house painted. I'd leave it at that.'
'Perhaps I might pay for the paint?' She badly wanted to do something tangible but I knew Jean Horn better than she did. 'I think the best thing you could do is write to her. Thank her for dropping charges and for giving your son a chance to make amends.'
She considered that for a moment and then nodded. 'Yes, that sounds best. 'Now, what about the stores my son swarmed?'
'They don't want to press charges but they're business people and they lost money.'
'Where are they?' She was toughening up again now, facing the fact that she would look bad over the next little while, the mother of a delinquent.
I told her and she said, 'Will you tell Phillip that I came to see you? Tell him to call when he's finished his work and I'll pick him up.'
'Will do. And might I ask you a favour in return?'
She was at the door. 'I think I can guess. You want me to let you know if I learn the whereabouts of Hanson.'
'Right. And if you should talk to Ms Tracy, perhaps you could ask her to be more helpful. She knows personally now that this business is serious.'
'I won't be seeing her, I have to go back to court this afternoon. But if I can help, I promise I will.'
'Thanks very much, Mrs Freund.'
She paused with one hand on the doorknob. 'It's not Mrs. It's Ms Freund. I dropped my husband's name when he went to prison.'
'Good idea,' I said. She seemed like a sensible woman, obviously successful, in charge of herself. She didn't need the handle some criminal had hung on her.
'I thought so,' she said. 'And I never liked the name Kershaw anyway.'
It knocked the wind out of me. 'Kershaw? You mean George Kershaw, The guy who was sent down for bank robbery in nineteen eighty-five?'
'Yes.' She looked at me very hard. 'And I did follow the case even then, Officer. And I know he was arrested by a man called Bennett. Was that you?'
'It's a small world,' I said and thought that it was getting smaller by the hour.
'I understand he made a break from a day pass,' she said.
'We'll get him and he'll be back inside for the rest of his sentence.'
She didn't answer right away and I wondered if I'd offended her, but at last she said, 'I hope so,' and left.
After she was gone I sat down to think about the case. Something more than coincidence was at work here. I pulled out a piece of paper and drew a bunch of circles, one for each of the names involved in the case, Waites, Tracy, Hanson, Cy, Freund/Kershaw jr, Kershaw sr. Each of them was linked to at least one of the others. Then there were Mrs Waites, the vanished woman, Mrs Jeffries, the first victim, and her husband the store-keeper. They were all part of another, secondary group, tied to the first by the presence of Waites.
It was tantalizing but it proved nothing. What we needed was to sit down with one of the principals and ask questions. So far that wasn't possible. Waites was dead. Marcia Tracy was dead to the world. Hanson and the other kid, Cy, had vanished. The case was cold and getting colder.
It's four years since I worked in Toronto, I quit after the scuffle with a bunch of bikers that saw me arrested for manslaughter and cost me my marriage, but I've maintained contact with some of the detectives I used to deal with and now seemed a good time to renew auld lang syne.
I tried Elmer Svenson first but he was out of his office so I rang my old partner, Irv Goodman. He works in the fraud squad and spends a lot of time in his office, going over the books of companies suspected of some kind of scam. He answered the phone cheerfully and asked how things were. 'Must be nice, sitting around in the sunshine. How's Fred? She had the baby yet?'
I filled him in and he wished me mazel tov and after I'd inquired about Dianne and the kids we got down to business. 'I've had two homicides here and they're tied in with a kid in Toronto, an actor.'
'Name?' Irv doesn't waste time.
'Eric Hanson, born Kow
alski. He lives with a woman called Hanson who works at CBC. The address is Apartment 3065, 413 Delaney, do you know it? Seems to me that used to be a parking lot.'
'Not the last two years, it's a chi-chi condo now, lake views and all that good stuff. What's he done?'
I filled him in and he asked a few questions, until he had the facts shuffled in his own way. Then he said, 'What are you doing?'
'I'm waiting for the Tracy woman to come round. She might be able to tell us something, although there's no guarantee that the guy who beat her up has anything to do with the case. I just figure he might.'
'Anything else about Hanson might be useful?'
'Yeah, he was driving an old Ford, licence number 197 HKH, registered to a guy called Patton, in Scarborough. That might help.'
Irv noted the number and then said, 'Even if you find him it still sounds like a long shot. What are the OPP doing?'
'They're trying to trace Jeffries and Waites' wife, widow now, I guess. But from what I make of it, those two're holed up somewhere, could be they've got the blinds drawn and they're jumping on one another's bones, not knowing what's going on, or maybe they're part of this and they're hiding out.'
'And what do you want out of Hanson? Haven't the OPP called out detectives to check him out?'
'Maybe. But I want to know how come he roped in the Kershaw kid for his gang. That can't be pure coincidence.'
'You think Kershaw did the killings?'
'It's a good bet. Waites could have sprung Kershaw and asked him to kill his wife. Kershaw killed the wrong woman. Then somebody, maybe Kershaw, killed Waites. All that would make its own kind of sense, but I can't understand why this Hanson kid would drum up a gang that just happened to include Kershaw's son, and use the gang to make trouble in Murphy's Harbour.'
Irv was silent for a long time but I didn't add anything, At last he said, 'So it figures that Hanson is part of the scam, whatever it is, maybe a trick to keep you occupied while Kershaw does his thing.'