Where's the Rest of the Body

by Ron Finch

  “How did you get to meet Nancy Featherstone?” asked Chief Petrovic. “I strongly suspect you weren’t going to DePaul University at the time.”

  “No, Ernie and I were in our mid-20s. We liked to party. Nancy and her friends liked to party too. At that time, we were all using cocaine. You could still get cocaine from a druggist then if you had a prescription. Since one of the druggists often partied with us, that was no problem. I know the 1922 law put serious restrictions on using cocaine, but it wasn’t illegal then, so I don’t mind talking about it. I haven’t used it much since.”

  “How did you end up at the Featherstone farm in September 1911?” asked Cst. Herman.

  “I got a letter from Nancy,” said Johnnie. “I doubt if I still have it. It would’ve been tossed long ago. But you can check with Ernie; he knows I got the letter. She knew I had a new Stanley Touring car and she wanted Ernie and me to drive from Chicago to her farm. We were supposed to take her some cocaine. It seemed to be scarce where she lived. Then we were all going to drive back to Chicago. We would drop her off at DePaul University in time for the start of her next school year.”

  “How did things go when you arrived at the farm?” asked Cst. Herman.

  “Nancy blew up. I don’t even know why. I don’t think anybody knew why. I don’t think she knew why. Her mom and dad got really upset and told us to leave the property. Before we could leave, the local police showed up and escorted us away. There were no charges. I don’t know what happened after that. Ernie and I just drove back to Chicago; minus Nancy, and minus the cocaine.”

  “What happened the next time you came to the farm?” asked Cst. Herman.

  “We never went to that farm again. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Johnnie. He was getting quite loud, but he stayed in his seat. “Did someone say we went back to the farm?”

  Chief O’Donnell stuck his head in the door and said, “Is everything okay in here?”

  Johnnie settled down and said, “Talk to Ernie. Talk to anybody. We’ve never been anywhere close to that farm, since. Heck, we’ve only been in Canada a couple of times until this latest trip to Hamilton.”

  “Oh, we’ll check all right,” said Chief Petrovic. “Where were you on October 3, 1911?”

  “I don’t know for certain,” said Johnnie. “That was a long time ago. I know that Ernie and I got busted for something about that time. It might’ve been for violating parole. It wasn’t a big deal, but they locked us up for thirty days in the Chicago jail. It was around that time you’re asking about, but I don’t know for sure. I guess you’ll have to check with the Chicago police. They probably have a record of it. They’ve always been concerned about my welfare,” he said with a smirk. “They think I should be safe inside.”

  “You can be certain we’ll check that out with the police in Chicago,” said Chief Petrovic. “Until we do have it checked out, you’re to stay in the immediate vicinity of Hamilton at a location where we can find you. You are excused for now.”

  Johnnie got up and left.

  “Just stay here in the interview room and keep an eye out for Ernie Stanzio, in case he appears before I get back,” said Chief Petrovic to Cst. Herman. “I’m going to go and find Chief O’Donnell and ask him to arrange a surety bond with Beno Stanzio for Johnnie and Ernie to ensure they remain in the area until I’ve heard back from Chicago about their alibi.”

  Chief Petrovic was back in five minutes. Within a minute or so of returning, there was a rap on the door. Cst. Herman opened the door and then introduced himself and Chief Petrovic to Ernie Stanzio. They interviewed Ernie using almost identical questions to the ones they had used with Johnnie Polizzi and the answers they got from Ernie were almost identical to the answers they’d received from Johnnie.

  Ernie was excused with the same admonishment to stay in the area.

  As soon as they were by themselves, Chief Petrovic turned to Cst. Herman and said, “What did you make of the interviews?”

  “I’m disappointed, Chief,” said Cst. Herman. “We didn’t get a confession, and I don’t think these guys cooked the story up ahead of time. I don’t know what to think. Everything else seems to fit them to the crime. Both Polizzi and Stanzio were identified in the police report as being present at the big dustup at the Featherstone farm, we have the neighbors as witnesses, and this all happened just a couple week before the fatal fire. I guess the next thing we do is just wait and see what the police in Chicago have to say.”

  “They didn’t seem overly alarmed about being interviewed,” said the chief. “It’s as if they really don’t know anything about the fire at the Featherstone farm. We didn’t tell them about it either.”

  Then a thought suddenly seemed to occur to Chief Petrovic. Cst. Herman saw the expression on the chief’s face change and the chief jumped up.

  “Excuse me, Peter, but I need to get a hold of Johnnie or Ernie before they get out of the building.”

  Five minutes later, Chief Petrovic was back in the interview room with Chief O’Donnell and Johnnie Polizzi. Chief O’Donnell excused himself.

  “What’s going on?” said Johnnie. “I thought we were done? I answered all the questions as best I could.”

  “I believe you,” said Chief Petrovic. “Thank you for coming back. I have one more question that I forgot to ask you. When was the last time you saw Nancy Featherstone?”

  “I’m not sure,” said Johnnie. “I don’t think she went back to DePaul. The next time I saw her, she was hanging with a slightly different crowd. All her friends seemed to have money. She was too good for me and Ernie. We saw her maybe two or three times over the next year. I remember Ernie and I bumped into her in downtown Chicago, just after New Year’s, in 1912. I may have seen her occasionally since then, but she’s never acknowledged me, so I’m not one hundred percent certain it was her. You know how sometimes you see somebody and they look like somebody you know, then when you go to speak to them you realize they’re not who you thought they were?”

  “Yes. Thanks, Johnnie. That’s really helpful,” said Chief Petrovic. “I won’t drag you back in again today.”

  Johnnie Polizzi left and Cst. Herman sat there with a puzzled expression on his face.

  “How did you ever think of asking that question?” he said to the chief.

  “I just played a hunch. I’m as surprised as you are by the answer Johnnie gave us. Earlier, when we had completed the interviews and we were discussing what we either had or had not found out, you said ‘everything else seems to fit them to the crime’. The words ‘fit them’ bothered me. We were trying to fit them, but maybe they didn’t fit. Maybe we were making the crime simpler than it really was.”

  “Knowing Nancy Featherstone might still be alive shakes up any theory I had,” said Cst. Herman.

  “And it poses another huge question,” said Chief Petrovic. “Whose body was found in the fire? It has always been assumed that it was Nancy Featherstone.

  “We’re done in Hamilton. Let’s get some supper and then head back to Chaseford.”

  GEORGIE AND I WERE sitting on the only two half-comfortable chairs in my bachelor flat at the back of Franklin’s Groceries.

  “What time did you tell them to be here, Joel?” asked Georgie.

  “Somewhere around 7:30,” I said.

  Earlier, Georgie had reminded me that today was March 3rd.

  “In less than three months you’ll have a new boss,” said Georgie.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.

  I saw storm clouds gathering, and for a moment I thought Georgie was going to lose it and demonstrate the authoritarian side of her nature.

  “Oh, are you referring to our wedding on the first of June?” I said.

  My quick recovery avoided a tiff that would’ve happened just as our company arrived. Either that or I was saved by the bell.

  Jay and Sylvia are our best friends and we were looking forward to a pleasant evening. Neither Jay nor I knew how Chief Pet
rovic’s trip to Hamilton had went. He and Cst. Herman were not due back until sometime this evening.

  The four of us spent a few minutes speculating about the Hamilton expedition. Were they going to bring a suspect back? Jay and I talked too much at home and as a result Sylvia and Georgie knew more than they should about police business. Fortunately, they also knew how to keep a secret.

  We played euchre for a while, the girls against the guys. Once again, the girls trounced us mercilessly. We stopped and had one of my favourite winter treats: hot chocolate and popcorn balls. As we were finishing off our snack, Georgie suggested we try a guessing game.

  “I guess so,” said Jay.

  Jay’s quip gave us all a good laugh. About every five minutes, for the rest of the night, someone would say ‘I guess so’ and everyone would laugh again.

  We did the same guessing game with the cards that Georgie and I had played with Gwen Cummings. Each of us had three turns to guess three cards correctly. That meant each of us had nine opportunities to guess the hidden card.

  After one round, no one had made a single correct guess. We were 0 for 9, or a big fat 0%. Certainly, no telepathy was showing up here. We persevered through three rounds. Out of the 36 guesses, we only had one correct guess. Jay had gotten lucky when he’d guessed the first card on his second set of three.

  “That game is no fun,” said Sylvia. “Cross that game off your entertainment list.”

  “I guess so,” said Georgie.

  We all laughed and then played some more euchre. The girls were still too good for us. Our pleasant evening ended, and Jay and Sylvia returned to Baby Brad.

  After they left, Georgie said, “Did you record the numbers you really thought you sensed?”

  “I did. I jotted them down on this piece of paper,” I said.

  While we were playing, I had reported a number that was different from the number I had actually sensed. Georgie and I had planned this ahead of time. For everyone else’s benefit, I was to report any playing card other than the one that I actually sensed. Then I would record the value of the playing card I had really sensed on a piece of paper. Jay and Sylvia had probably just assumed I was recording the numbers that I had spoken aloud.

  I handed the page that listed the cards I had sensed to Georgie. She compared the list to the list of actual cards exposed during my turns.

  “I don’t believe it,” she said. “Your real score was eight out of nine.”

  Monday, March 6th

  THERE WAS ALWAYS SOMEONE to be brought up to date on something. The chief felt the 9 o’clock Monday morning meetings in his office were important to keep his constables together as a team. When everyone knew what was going on, it provided an excellent environment for the exploration of ideas relevant to the investigation. More ideas, more leads, more clues, more likely to solve the case was the way Chief Petrovic thought.

  Chief Petrovic summed up the interviews he and Cst. Herman had conducted in Hamilton for the other three constables. When he reached the point in his summary where he called Johnnie Polizzi back for the final question he paused. There were some quizzical looks. When he continued, and talked about the final question and Polizzi’s response, the quizzical looks turned to near astonishment.

  Cst. Herman looked at his fellow constables and chuckled. “I was as astonished as you are,” he said.

  “It leaves us with two key questions,” said Chief Petrovic. “Whose remains were found when the Featherstone house burned down in 1911? And where is Nancy Featherstone? What suggestions do you have that would lead us to the answers to those questions?”

  “We’re going to have to try to locate any neighbours, friends, or relatives of the Featherstones that are still alive,” said Cst. Smith. “Then we’re going to have to question them about any relatives or people that may have visited them or worked for them in the fall of 1911.”

  “Good idea, Cst. Smith,” said the chief. “With Cst. Jarvis’s help, you can start on that process once the meeting is over. Take a look at the reports from the fire investigation and also talk to Henry Featherstone. Remember, he’s the nephew of the deceased couple and the current owner of the farm. He might be the best source of information.

  “Any other ideas?” asked the chief.

  “Sir, I suggest we contact the Chicago Police Department to see if they have any incident reports from 1911 or 1912 that mention a woman named Nancy Featherstone,” I said. “Perhaps we could also get them to check Chicago and area directories for her name.”

  “Good idea, Cst. Franklin,” said the chief.

  “Peter, with Joel’s help, I want you to get started on that. I also want you to check to see if anybody with that name lives in Canada. You may have to contact the Census Canada headquarters. There’s an office in Toronto.

  “If there are no further suggestions or questions the meeting is over. I want you to get on these tasks as soon as you can; at the same time, I don’t want them to interfere with your other daily police duties.” Chief Petrovic dismissed the constables.

  CST. SMITH WON THE coin flip with Cst. Jay Jarvis. Cst. Smith used his choice to line up an interview with Henry Featherstone. He felt that, if anybody had information that would be helpful, it would be Henry, the nephew of the deceased owners.

  Cst. Jay Jarvis on the other hand was to start interviewing the neighbours. The person with the most information was likely to be Jenny Kaufman. Mrs. Kaufman was 87 years old. She was almost blind and could only hear what she wanted to. But her mind was still good. Especially for things that happened years ago. She lived with one of her granddaughters in Chaseford. In 1911, and for several years prior to that, she and her husband had lived on the farm next to the Featherstones’ place. She had always been a very inquisitive person.

  CONSTABLE JAKE SMITH told Henry Featherstone they were after some background information.

  “With the discoveries in the icehouse at the farm, we’re starting an investigation into the possible murders of your aunt and uncle.”

  “Finding the bodies in the icehouse at the farm after all this time was quite a surprise,” said Henry. “My father was very hurt when they disappeared so suddenly without letting him know and without ever contacting him. My dad and his brother were good friends. He often wondered if something bad hadn’t happened to them. I’ll help you as much as I can.” Henry paused for a moment, reflecting, and then added, “You know, Nancy’s body was found in the ashes of the house during the fire investigation back in 1911. It now seems likely that all three of them were murdered at the same time. This has become an even more terrible tragedy.”

  Cst. Smith didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t his place to share the police chief’s theory about Nancy Featherstone, especially at this point in time. But he did need to get as much information as he could about the people and events at the Featherstone farm in 1911. At that time, everyone assumed it was Nancy Featherstone’s body that had been found. It may have been. But in a murder investigation they had to consider all possibilities.

  “I know it’s a long time ago,” said Cst. Smith, “but I need you to try and recall if there were any other people that visited the Featherstone farm regularly in 1911.”

  “No, I can’t think of anyone,” Henry Featherstone responded, “but that was a long time ago.”

  “Were there any young women or men that worked on the farm or worked in the house helping your aunt? It was a large house.”

  “Yes, I remember now,” said Henry. “There was a girl that the Featherstones brought to the farm when she was about 10 years old. She was maybe four years younger than me. We spoke occasionally, whenever I visited my uncle’s farm, and she seemed like a nice person.

  “There’s quite a story to this, actually. My aunt was a generous person who liked other people. She could usually see beyond people’s faults. My aunt and uncle were very well off and my aunt always felt it was important to share your good fortune with those less fortunate. She had contacted the Salvation Army in Engl
and and had arranged to have a girl brought over to Canada. I don’t think she was ever legally adopted, but they treated her like a daughter. She helped out on the farm until probably 1909 or 1910 and then, with the Featherstones’ blessing and some financial help, she moved to Toronto, where she got a job in a clothing factory. She would come back at least once a year for a visit. She got along well with my aunt and uncle.”

  “Did she get along with Nancy?” asked Cst. Smith.

  “I don’t know,” said Henry. “Nancy didn’t seem to have much to do with her. After grade eight, Nancy didn’t have much to do with anyone in the area. Nancy was about the same age as me. She didn’t go to the local high school. Her parents sent her away to an expensive private school. I’m not sure whether it was in Toronto or somewhere in the states; maybe Chicago. She was also away quite often in the summer for several weeks, at exclusive camps. She was rarely at home at all when she was a teenager. Occasionally, she would have girlfriends here from the private school she attended.”

  “What was the name of the girl that the Featherstones brought over from England?” asked Cst. Smith.

  “I was never formally introduced to her. I just called her Sue and she didn’t seem to object,” Henry answered.

  “If you come across her name, or talk to someone who remembers her name, please let me know,” said Cst. Smith, ending the interview.

  CONSTABLE JAY JARVIS couldn’t interview old Jenny Kaufman until 3 o’clock. Jenny’s granddaughter had a medical appointment and wouldn’t be back home until three.

  When Jay arrived at the house, punctually at three, Jenny’s granddaughter Adeline introduced him to Jenny twice. Jenny’s hearing difficulties were the source of the confusion in the first introduction. With her ear trumpet in place things improved. She was disappointed he was not a grandson she had not met before because he seemed like a fine young man, but she was somewhat mollified when she understood he was a police constable. This meant she must be important to some investigation.