“Did Albert say anything at all about why she was so worked up?”
“Don’t think he had a clue – he wasn’t the brightest bulb in the pack anyway, even if he could play that Fender bass like a madman.” Xavier paused a moment, then: “Wait a minute, he did say that she was going on about some older people coming and that she had to leave before they got there. We just assumed it was probably her folks or something. So I guess that wasn’t it, or you wouldn’t be here... and the guys are waving at me and I’m past starting time so I gotta go.” He stood up.
Anderson, too, got quickly to his feet and shook hands: “Thank-you, Xavier, you’ve been more help to us than you know. Much appreciated!”
“Welcome, man. Good luck! She may have been a bit of a nut, but she’s an okay kid.”
“We’ll hang out here for your first set, anyway.”
“Cool!”
After Xavier had gone back to the stage, Arnold leaned over to Anderson: “That puts the whole story on its ear, especially the timeline. Everyone assumed that she had been hanging out with that guy until at least Saturday night.”
“Yeah, that means a 48-hour gap in the information we know. We have stuff to talk to the cops about when we get back... I’m glad we went with our gut and decided to call in here.”
“I’m kinda thinking perhaps we should even call Sergeant John in the morning, and fill him in.”
Amanita kicked into its first tune, and conversation became next to impossible. That was okay, though, because Xavier and his band were good at what they do. Anderson could tell the new bass player was still missing some shots and wasn’t in perfect synch with the drummer sometimes, but all in all they were impressive and enjoyable. They even threw in a couple of original songs, which confused some of the small crowd but pleased Anderson. About half way through the first set, they stopped to tune a couple of instruments, and Arnold could see Xavier talking with the drummer. Before he called in the next tune, Xavier said over the mic: This one’s for our friends from Maple Falls. Please hang around after this set ‘cause I got something to tell you...” and off they went with Great Big Sea’s “The Night Pat Murphy Died”.
When the set was done, Xavier made his way back to Arnold and Anderson. It took awhile – he and the band were popular and some folks in the club wanted to say hello, or high-five at least. Xavier pulled a chair out and perched on the edge. Throwing up his hands, he said, “Drummers. It’s like sometimes they don’t got ears! Dennis never heard any of the talk about Albert and that girl, apparently, ‘cause just now he told me that just before we started playing that Thursday night, he was out back of the club smoking a joint and saw Albert’s girl being led, or pushed, or something, into a big black truck. Dennis said it was like one of those SUVs from the show S.W.A.T.”
“Crap.” Anderson said. “That’s a little scary. Drummer didn’t see anything more?”
“Nah, he didn’t say, but I expect he ducked inside pretty quick. He’s not real fond of what might be a cop car when he has a little baggie in his pocket.”
This time Arnold stood up and thanked him. “Like Frank here said, you’ve been more help that you can imagine. And – you guys are really fun to listen to. I hope you’re never back in Maple Falls ‘cause they don’t deserve you, but if you are, or anywhere else close, we’ll be coming to hear you.” He smacked Anderson on the shoulder: “I have to get him out of here ‘cause we have a meeting early tomorrow morning – nothing to do with Anita – but we gotta be there on time. Have a great night!”
“Take care guys, and again – good luck.” Xavier turned and was gone.
Anderson drained his beer, stood up, and the two men walked out onto the street.
“Time for Timmys?”
09:00 JULY 17
Arnold and Anderson had finished off last night with a bed-time coffee and bagel at a small indie coffee shop in the Market, walked back to the hotel and slept soundly until their phones woke them up at 7:00 am, with time for a quick shower, bacon and eggs in the hotel eatery, check-out and the drive along Rideau to Wellington, then across the Ottawa River on the Portage Bridge and into Gatineau and the large office tower where they would meet Pierre LaChance.
As they drove, Anderson had dialled the OPS office in Maple Falls for Sergeant MacLeod and reached him on the second ring. Anderson explained where they were, and briefly described their conversation with Xavier at the nightclub, pointing out how his description of events messed up what they understood as the timeline for Anita’s disappearance as well as the possible connection to a black SUV. The sergeant had been quiet for a moment, thanked him and asked how soon they would be driving home, so Anderson explained they had a business appointment in Gatineau over the next couple of hours and would be leaving for home immediately after. “If you could stop by the OPS office in Maple Falls on your way home, I would really appreciate it. I have an important matter to discuss about our friend Sam, along with this information as well,” the sergeant had said, and Anderson said they would likely be at his office between 2:00 and 3:00 in the afternoon.
By now, Arnold had parked the Equinox in an underground lot a block from the government building and as they walked to the building and found the correct floor and office, they mulled over what the sergeant had said. “I assume they were able to ID the body – maybe it’s not who they thought it was,” Anderson mused. “It’ll be interesting to hear more. Sergeant John certainly seemed interested in the Anita thing, too.”
The office receptionist took down their names and disappeared momentarily, returning with a small pleasant-looking man in his early forties: “Good morning, gentlemen, and thank you for coming in so quickly. My name is Pierre LaChance, and I am Director of the Protected Shoreline Program programs, among others.”
The men shook hands all around, and LaChance invited them along the corridor to a small meeting room, equipped with a table and chairs for six and a spectacular view of downtown Ottawa across the river. “Can I get you coffee?”
LaChance left them to gaze at the view, returning in a few moments with a small tray and three steaming cups. After an exchange of small-talk, LaChance said, “Please, have a seat and I’ll explain why I called you here.”
“The office has heard reports – rumours, perhaps – of your PSP local committee possibly hosting a public meeting with a controversial speaker. If the reports are true, then you should know that there could be a conflict with the provisions of the Program agreement that deal with advocacy, which is not permitted under the agreement. I need to know what your committee is proposing, so we can make sure you are aware of those regulations. In short, local PSP committees must remain in compliance with all provisions of the agreement or they risk losing the program funding provided by the government, and – because of the reports we have received – I need assurance from your committee that it will not undertake any activity which could be construed as advocacy. It would be best for all of us if we can sort this out through yourselves, as representatives of the committee – Chair and Vice Chair I believe, that your committee will remain in compliance.”
Arnold sat quietly for a few moments. “Yes,” he began, “you are correct, I am Chair of the local committee and Frank here is the Vice Chair.” He continued: “And I expect you are referring to a proposal by one of our committee members that we host a public meeting in the community which will feature Dr. Sebastian Horowitz as the main speaker. I have heard that Dr. Horowitz can be outspoken, but he is essentially an environmental scientist who focuses on water issues, so I would have thought this would be a good fit with the Protected Shorelines program and interesting to people in our community. I frankly don’t see a problem, and I don’t want to disappoint the folks on my committee, who are pretty enthusiastic about putting on the event. Frank, do you want to comment?”
Anderson resisted the temptation to shoot a withering look at his friend. “Yes, I think Arnold has expressed the situation pretty well. In fairness, some members of the committee were
less than enthusiastic at first, but now they seem to be coming together around doing something to raise the profile of the PSP in the community. And, of course, any opportunity for a summer barbeque in the village always brings people together!”
“I’ll be blunt,” LaChance countered. “One would be naive to think that Sebastian Horowitz is anything less than an evangelist for the Greenpeace approach to any environmental issue he chooses. And yes, water is his most significant issue. And, I don’t think either of you are the least bit naive, so you will understand when I tell you that the Department (and therefore the PSP Program managers) will almost certainly find the Awan Lake PSP out of compliance if it goes ahead with this event. The Awan Lake PSP has been well-regarded by the Department, so it is unlikely – not impossible but unlikely – that the Department would demand repayment of the federal contributions over the last three years since your local PSP committee was formed, but they will almost certainly feel forced to end the Awan Lake agreement going forward. And that would be unfortunate because of all the good things you have accomplished.”
Time for the good-cop-bad-cop routine, Anderson thought to himself, I’ll be the bad cop: “Okay, Pierre, I think we get the message, politely delivered but loud and clear. However, you know as well as I do that Arnold – as our Chair and a good one – can’t sit here and make a commitment without taking the matter back to the committee. How soon do you need a response?”
“Well, I would appreciate being informed of your committee’s decision, but we don’t need a formal response to this informal discussion. Take it as a word to the wise, and as long as the Horowitz event doesn’t happen, no harm no foul.”
Anderson looked across at Arnold: “You okay with that, taking it to the committee?”
“Yes, that’s fine,” Arnold responded. “And Pierre, thanks for dealing with this at a personal level first. I will keep you in the loop as soon as the committee has met – probably later this week.”
LaChance stood up. “Your understanding of the situation is much appreciated.” He paused, then: “This coffee is awful, and I suggest we wander down the street to Starbucks and I’ll buy you a good cup. Does that sound like a plan?”
Arnold and Anderson glanced at one another. “Good plan. Lead the way!”
Starbucks was not far off. The conversation was light; Arnold mentioned that Annette Dubois had not been at the last couple of PSP local committee meetings and wondered if LaChance was replacing her as their Program supervisor. LaChance explained that no, that was not the case. Annette had been burning up some extra vacation hours she had accumulated, but that she was due back at work soon and would likely make the next regular meeting.
Once they had picked up their coffees and settled down at a tiny table by a window, LaChance again brought up the Awan Lake committee’s Horowitz event plan, but with a stern warning that “this is strictly off the record.” He continued quietly: “Two things, gentlemen. First, I sense you have both been around and understand how to read between the lines, and second, I personally think your committee is doing the right thing for Awan Lake. You need to understand that – right or wrong – government departments – like politicians – are influenced by other voices, particularly by powerful corporate voices.”
LaChance paused a moment, then: “Your meeting about the event was last Thursday evening, right?”
“Yes,” replied Arnold.
“So, by 8:30 Friday morning, my Director had received a couple of phone calls and by 9:30 he had called me into his office and told me to get together with you guys and rein you in. And there was no consultation – it was a directive. I think it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that someone who was at your meeting has a direct pipeline to someone away up in our department, or above, and whoever it is does not want to have media attention drawn to Awan Lake. Given the speed of the response, I suspect there is corporate money and process behind it – not just an ordinary lobby group.”
After another pause, he continued: “So, I have some ideas about potential names, one in particular, but before I throw out a whole list I’d rather hear if you fellows have any ideas?”
Arnold and Anderson looked at one another. Anderson shrugged: “Well, yeah, I think we do. I have a sneaking hunch that Robertson Mines has future plans they are not sharing, and there is a potential for a lot of water use and mis-use there, depending on what they got in mind.” Arnold nodded in agreement.
“Okay,” LaChance replied. “We shall not mention that name again today, but that was where I was going, and I think the stewards of Awan Lake and its communities have legitimate concerns.” Another pause. “And there is a way around this advocacy prohibition for federally-funded Programs. Scurry home and either find a local club or association to take on hosting the event or, alternatively, get a handful of people together to set up a separate committee – one or two people from the PSP committee could be members of that group, but you should have a majority of people not involved with the PSP. A new group could, for example, call itself ‘The Friends of Awan Lake’ and incorporate themselves as a non profit association. Then you could host this event without risking losing the funding for the PSP. You will have to make sure it is – and looks – clean, and the PSP can’t even be a sponsor of any part of it.”
“That sounds like a perfect solution, actually,” said Arnold. “Come to think of it, we already have a ‘Board of Trade’ that is incorporated but doesn’t ever do anything even though a few people meet every now and then and wish they could. This might give them something to bite on. I belong already... did you ever join Frank?”
“Nope, never did, but this would be the perfect time. And somehow, I imagine that would look a little cleaner than our starting a new association just for the one event. Anyway, I kinda like the idea of starting – eventually – a ‘Friends of Awan Lake’ association as a community group that could speak and operate freely. It might attract community involvement and corporate sponsorship more easily than the PSP committee, which is so... federal government!”
LaChance was smiling: “I figured I could count on you two guys to figure it out and do the right thing. I apologize that I have had to complicate your lives with bureaucratic BS, but that’s the reality of where I work and what I do. And...” as he stood up to leave... “two things: it’s best we don’t leave here together so have another cup of coffee, and remember that we never had this conversation.”
“No worries at all. We’ll shake hands another time. Thank you, and we’ll just sit for awhile. I want a biscuit anyway.” Anderson smiled, and turned away.
***
An hour later it was 11:30 and the little black Equinox was well on its way home. “We should be well on time to meet Sergeant John, even if we stop to pick up another burger. And talking about Sergeant John, I wonder what-all he wants to talk about?”
Arnold thought for a moment before responding. “I dunno. It seems like little Spirit River suddenly has a bunch of stuff happening, and not all of it is good. And you and I seem to be smack in the middle of all of it!”
“Keeps you from getting bored fixing tires and changing oil for all the little old ladies! Which reminds me, did you get those parts into that Honda and get her all fixed up?”
“Yeah, I got it done on Saturday morning while you were out floating around the lake with your new girlfriend. And picked up a couple of other little jobs too, coming in tomorrow. I don’t imagine Marion’s gonna let me out of her sight for awhile. I’ve been pretty much useless to her for the last four or five days. But anyway, yeah, I have no idea what’s come up that Sergeant John wants to talk with us about. Doesn’t seem like it’s about Anita, so the only other thing I can think about is Sam. Maybe they’ve positively identified him.”
“Could be. And perhaps there’ll have to be an inquest or something, another time-waster for us just because we helped haul him out of the water.”
“Yeah, don’t really need that. Say, Frank, when are you going to get together with
Marjorie and take a look at those photos?”
“I had been kinda thinking tonight, but I haven’t been in touch. Anyway, that’s a bit awkward because I don’t want to send her back to the island in her little putt-putt in the dark so I’ll have to pick her up and take her back with the launch. Maybe tomorrow morning would be better. And we still don’t know where the rest of today is gonna take us. Yeah, I’ll give her a call and set it up for tomorrow morning if she’s available.
“I’ll bet she’s gonna be available, Prince Charming!”
“Shut-up, Jamieson!
***
Arnold and Anderson rolled into Maple Falls at about 2:15. They hadn’t stopped for lunch so they had called ahead from about 20 minutes out of town and told Sergeant John they’d meet him at the Flying J truck stop on the highway. The sergeant was already there, waiting alone at a window booth with his radio and cellphone on the table beside him. “How was the Nation’s Capitol?”
“It was okay. Listened to some good music, met some interesting people, had a great dinner last night and a decent sleep. Guess that’s as good as can be expected.”
“So you didn’t let that sailor guy Anderson lead you astray?
“Nah. He lives alone, so I asked him if he was celibate, and he told me he couldn’t even give it away, let alone sell a bit.”
Anderson joined the laughter, glared at his friend and the two civilians sat down and joined the cop. “Did that stuff we found out last night from Xavier - the band guy – lead anywhere yet?”
“Well, it sure as hell opened a big can of worms – away more questions than answers. I got guys within a couple of hundred kilometers trying to identify all the big black SUVs they can find. Nothing yet. But, stuff is getting even more complicated. We got the autopsy results back, and all they did was throw a bloody big monkey wrench into the works.”
Sunset at [20 47] Page 9