Marjorie delivered one little kiss and a finger tip on Anderson’s nose as she got into the car. “Don’t be sad, and mostly take care. Please.”
“And you two be safe... if the fog turns into pea soup, remember to put on your four-way flashers until it gets better. Phone me when you get there!”
***
Anderson got into his truck and out of the gentle but cold rain before checking his phone. The call had been from the OPS detachment in The Falls, and the message was from the sergeant saying to call back asap, which he did: “Hi John, The girls are just leaving for Toronto and I was just saying goodbye. What’s up?”
“Where are you? Not at your place, I assume?”
“We went to the Zoo for bacon and eggs.”
“That explains it... our constable on duty just called in and said you were gone. It seems like a boat came into the area by your dock and let off a couple of gunshots before turning back and disappearing into the fog. Our constable says she even got a warning shot off as the boat turned away. I told her to wait back near your house until help arrived, and I’m on my way now.”
“Crap. I’m in my truck headed down there right now.”
“Check in with Jennifer – Constable Jennifer Schwartz - when you get there, and maybe stay clear of the dock until I get there. Which will take a little longer than usual with this fog, and I’m running dark – no flashers or siren - because I don’t want to get people all fussed up.”
“Okay, see you soon.” Anderson jammed his truck into gear and took off down to the harbour, thanking his lucky stars that the sisters had already left. When he got to his place, he could see that the SUV had been moved and was closer to the dock, with the police officer standing outside staring towards the lake. He pulled alongside and got out: “Good morning, Constable Jennifer, I’m Frank Anderson and your sergeant has already let me know roughly what happened. You’re okay, I assume?”
“Good morning Mr. Anderson! I saw you leave earlier with the ladies. Yes, I’m okay, but a little nerved up. I sorta figured this would be a sleeper of a job and we’d be bored to death, but I guess that’s not the case!”
“Nope, we seem to find ways to make life exciting around here sometimes, I’m afraid,” as he shook her hand. “Would you tell me what happened?”
“I was sitting in the truck out of the rain, and while I was pouring some tea out of my thermos I glanced up at the docks and saw a boat going by your boat. I grabbed my binoculars (and spilt my tea) and took a look through them just as I heard two shots. There were two people in the boat, and the one who wasn’t driving had a rifle in his hands. I grabbed the microphone for the loud hailer and yelled “stop, police”, pulled out my sidearm and fired one shot into the air over top of their boat. They turned and accelerated away from the dock and I fired one more time, this time at the boat. I hope I don’t catch shit for that.”
“I doubt it, said Anderson. “Can you describe the boat at all? I know it was a ways off, and the fog is closing in, but anything you can tell me would be useful.”
“Well, I know a little bit about boats – my family was big time into fishing and I took a couple of the OPS courses about them, but honest, I didn’t see much. The boat was the same colour as the fog – grey – probably aluminum, and it was pretty big – over twenty feet long anyway. It was an open boat, and it had two big outboards... when they left the area they had them revved up and just screaming!”
“Any idea which way they went?”
“Well, couldn’t see anything – they disappeared into the fog right away – but I listened until I couldn’t hear them anymore. The fog and rain muffled the sound too, so it was confusing, but I think they went that way...” and she pointed east.
“That figures. Thank-you! And here comes your boss... good morning John!”
“Morning, folks... Frank, Constable Schwartz. Man, that fog’s pretty thick up on the highway. At least down here I can see your boat. Been down there already?
“Nope,” replied Anderson. “I was trying to behave myself and wait until we’re all here. No worries, though, your Constable filled me in on what happened. Okay if I go take a look?”
“Sure, we can all walk down. This isn’t wartime – yet – so I don’t suppose there’s another gang waiting to get into your house. Wait a sec...” and he went to his cruiser and took out a small fishing tackle box with “OPS” stencilled on it. “Jennifer – we’re pretty informal around Frank here – maybe you can tell me what happened too? Just quickly - I assume you’ve had a chance to make some notes?”
“Yes, Sergeant, I have” and she gave him a quick version of events as they walked to the dock. Anderson stepped on first, looked around the well deck and then walked around the port side of the wheelhouse.
“Okay, there’s a bullet hole through the side of the wheelhouse wall, and – oh yeah, crap... one of the small windows in the forward cabin has been shot through. From the looks of it, both shots went through to the inside so we’ll have to see what more damage they did once they got in there,” and he came back to the well deck and unlocked the wheelhouse door. He stopped outside and waved the officers to go ahead of him. “I don’t want to mess up any evidence so I’ll watch you from behind. That one that came into the wheelhouse likely went just behind the swivel seat at the wheel.”
The sergeant walked into the wheelhouse, took a quick look around, then poked his head into the forward cabin before calling out, “okay, you both can come in. There’s nothing to see on the floor, so the more sets of eyes down here the better. And I forgot my flashlight... you got one?”
Anderson opened a small locker beside the swivel seat and pulled out two flashlights. “Here folks, enjoy!”
“Thanks.” The sergeant opened his fishing tackle box and took out some gloves and small zip-lock bags. “Oh, and here’s another flashlight too. Duh.”
“I wondered – thought you were planning on doing some fishing while you were down here,” said Anderson.”
“Nope,” chuckled the sergeant. “Evidence gathering stuff.”
Anderson had been looking around the starboard side of wheelhouse: “Here’s where I think one bullet ended up, right in the side of the seat. Glad I wasn’t sitting there!”
The sergeant walked over and examined a messy hole in the fibreglass where the seat back met the seat itself, then looked around on the floor with his flashlight: “And here it is!” He took out a small pocket-knife and scooped the battered bullet into a bag which he closed, and wrote on with a marker. “Happily, not much damage there, except through the side of the cabin.
“Nothing some faring compound and paint won’t fix,” said Anderson. “For now I’ll close the hole on the outside with some duct tape. Let’s see what damage was done in the forward cabin.”
The bullet had shattered one of the three small glass windows, and after some poking around in the cabin the constable found where it had become imbedded in a large coffee tin. They emptied the coffee gently into a small cooking pot until they found the bullet, which was in better shape than the first one. “That was no .22 they were using,” said the sergeant. “At least a .308 – fairly heavy rifle, anyway. They’ll tell us more back at the lab.”
Anderson taped over the hole with a small piece of tape, then did his best to close off the small window in the forward cabin. “I’ll come back down later with a piece of light plywood or aluminum, just to keep the rain and spray out until I can get a piece of glass cut. I think it’s time for coffee, don’t you?”
The other two agreed. The sergeant took some photographs, inside and outside, and then a couple from the dock and from back up the road. There was still some lukewarm coffee in the pot, which Anderson poured apologetically, and then set up a fresh pot and turned it on.
“I think,” he began, “that we are being warned – intimidated would be a better word maybe. That’s three times now – probably the same boat that came here this morning was the one that dumped the interns’ canoe last week,
and then there’s the truck that ran Hassan off the road. In none of those three times was there any attempt to finish the job. The folks who dumped the canoe could easily have run down and killed Cyndi and Adumbi. The guys who came here today could have unloaded a lot more shells into the boat, and with a rifle that heavy they could have aimed at the waterline and several shots down there would have done a helluva lot of damage. And that black truck on Friday night didn’t hang around to make sure Hassan was dead – they just took off.”
“And I think you’re mostly right,” said the sergeant, “but I think there’s more to the Hassan situation. He’s had two or three would-be visitors at the hospital. Of course, the officers on duty turned them all away. Two guys – rough-looking, white, thirties – and one woman. Jennifer, you were the one posted guard when the woman came last night. I’ve read your report, of course, but maybe you can tell us your impression of that event?”
“Sure. It was after midnight, and a young-ish woman came looking to see the subject. She was very polite but a bit pushy, and was openly disappointed when she left. She seemed sad... I wished I could have let her in to see him.”
Anderson was listening intently. “Jen, can you describe her for me?
“Yes, she was pretty, in her early twenties, long black hair tied back, wearing black jeans, a black company jacket - you know, the kind with a logo on front pocket. She didn’t look to me like she was very healthy.”
Anderson looked across at the sergeant, who was suddenly very attentive and asked “what race”?
“Well, we’re being trained not to profile, but I would guess she had native – Indigenous – blood in her background.”
“Shit!” said the sergeant. Anderson nodded: “Anita.”
“Who?” asked the Constable.
“Of course,” said the sergeant. “Anita is a young woman who has been missing for a couple of weeks, Jennifer, and you wouldn’t make the connection because you’ve been pulled in from outside the detachment to give us a hand here. And, we have reason to believe that she and Hassan – the patient in a coma – were close friends. And yes, she is Métis. Her folks live in the village here.
“I am so sorry I didn’t catch on... and now she’s gone!”
“Jennifer, there is no reasonable way you could have known. And, course, we are not at all sure, really, that might have been someone else. But there will be some happy folks here – all over town, she was well-liked – if it was her and if we can locate her.”
“And keep her safe,” said Anderson. “We’re not sure where she fits in this whole picture, but she, too, has been threatened.”
“Constable,” said the sergeant, “would you please bring the evidence toolbox to my cruiser and bring back my briefcase?”
“Certainly, Sir.” After she had gone out the door, the sergeant turned to Anderson: “Two quick questions. One... do you have a rifle? Sorry, that’s silly: don’t answer that. Yes, you do – a rifle and a shotgun – I already know ‘cause I looked you up a couple of weeks ago before we started to work together. Second question, do you have any ammo here today, and may we take your shotgun with us on the boat?”
“Of course,” said Anderson. Then he looked sideways a little sheepishly: “It’s already there, actually, over the starboard berth, loaded, in a blanket.”
“I didn’t hear that, of course. Okay, third question, is that radar of yours working?”
“Yes. I haven’t done any sea-tests with it, but it appears to work correctly.”
“Then can you and I take a quick trip this morning, along the east shore where the interns got their canoe dumped and then beyond Robertson Mines? It occurs to me that the fog gives us an opportunity to scope out stuff along the shore, a little closer than you and Marjorie got a week ago. Just maybe we could spot that boat that came here, if they got careless because of the fog.”
“Absolutely. I have lots of fuel onboard, but no coffee; I’ll make some.”
“Good. And I’ll ask my constable to nip uptown to pick up some hamburgers for us all. She’ll be staying here, but she might appreciate some real food! At that point the constable came in the door. “Thank you, Jennifer.” He rustled around in the big aluminum briefcase and found a couple of sheets of printed paper. “This is the form we have to fill out every time we discharge a firearm. You’re gonna be hanging out here all day, so you might as well save some time and fill it in and sign it. Just tell it like it happened; I will approve your shots. And another thing – Frank and I are going out with his boat along the east shore in the general direction you pointed out, just in case we can find that boat.” He took out a billfold and handed her a twenty. “Now this is a favour, not an order, but would you please go uptown to that restaurant on Main Street and pick up hamburgers and fries for all three of us? I imagine you brought lunch, but I’m willing to bet its a cold lunch!”
“Absolutely sir. Thank-you, I’ll be right back. With cheese, everyone? Perfect!”
“Nice lady,” Anderson remarked.
“Seems to be. I’ve only just met her yesterday, but she seems eager and smart.”
“I’m going out to my shop to cut a piece of roofing to fit that window and something better than duct tape to stick it on with. I’ll be right back.”
***
The corporal returned in about twenty minutes with the burgers, and the men took theirs and a coffee thermos down to the boat. Anderson fired up the diesel and the genset, turned on and checked the navigation instruments including the new radar, and unlocked the mooring chains. By now, the sergeant knew the drill and cast off the spring, bow and stern lines. “Normally, said Anderson, “I would blow the horn to leave the dock, and periodically as we travel in the fog, but under the circumstances that seems counterproductive. To use your words, we’ll run dark and silent. The new radar should make that a lot safer, but we will still want to keep our eyes sharp – maybe sling those binoculars over there around your neck in case there’s something you need to look at.” They began to munch down their hamburgers.
They were only about five minutes and three-quarters of a hamburger out of the harbour when the sergeant’s cell phone rang. It was apparently his office calling... he mostly listened, then said “how about tomorrow morning” then said “Okay, I’m actually out on the lake with Mr. Anderson, looking for some possible evidence. We’ll be back in a couple of hours. No, try my cell, I’ll see if I can hook into his booster. If you can’t get me by voice, send me a text message. Okay, bye,” and he rang off.”
“So that’s interesting,” he said to Anderson. “Seems like the doctors have taken Hassam out of his coma and he’s come too, sort of. They figure he’ll be okay to talk to in the morning. Can you make it into The Falls tomorrow? I actually would like you to be the first one to talk to him, because yours was the last name he spoke (apart from Anita) when they put him under.”
“Sure, I can do that. I need to go to The Falls anyway to order a new piece of glass, it seems, and I also need to pick up some groceries. I try to buy most of what I eat here in the village, but some stuff – like coffee – I have to get there.” He paused. “And another thing, is there a good sign shop in The Falls that makes that vinyl lettering that you can put on trucks?”
“Yes there is, near the edge of town. They do printing and stuff as well. Figure you need a sign saying “don’t shoot at my damn boat?”
“Well, it’s a long story but I’ll keep it short. I have this boat, see, and I’ve never given it a name. And I know this lady, see, and she thinks it should be called ‘The Beaver’ and I am inclined to agree. Thought I might surprise her!”
The sergeant burst out laughing. “Well, well, Mr. Anderson. You do have it bad, don’t you! Can’t say that I blame you, though... Marjorie and her sister seem like pretty special people. And given the picture on the side of your pick-up, ‘The Beaver’ seems like a pretty good name. And it’s gender neutral, though ‘beaver’ may have other implications in there somewhere.”
; Anderson was laughing. “You’re the second-to-last person I know who might worry about a gender-neutral name for a boat!”
“I have a teenaged daughter, remember? She’s always finding things like that to worry about! And I suppose Arnold is the last guy you think might worry about a gender-neutral boat?”
“Nope, Marion.”
“Tell you what I’ll do,” said the sergeant. When we get back to your place, you print out exactly how you want that lettering for The Beaver, and I’ll take it over to the shop first thing in the morning. I’ll apply a little charm, so they’ll have it ready for you to pick up when you’re in town to go shopping and talking to Hassam.
Soon they were nearing the Webster sisters’ island, and it showed up distinctly on the radar, in perfect agreement with the GPS. To the east of the island they could clearly distinguish the form of MacLean Point. Anderson set the sonar depth alarm to fifteen feet, and turned the boat to leave Maclean Point to port.
“Does it look like you’re going to arrest Hassan?
“I may not have a lot of choice if he wants to stay alive. And there is the business about working outside the terms of his student visa so we have a reason. But for now he’s safe enough under guard in the hospital.”
Soon the GPS was showing they were less than a quarter mile from land, so Anderson throttled back to about four knots and turned so they were running parallel to the shore. The shoreline was still visually hidden in the fog, and the depth reading was over 50 feet, so he edged the boat closer and re-set the radar range to one mile. He re-set the sonar unit to show side-scan to get a better look at the shape of the bottom, particularly to port, closer to shore; the depth reading stayed at just under 50 feet. “Watch closely for a visual on the shoreline,” he said to the sergeant. I think we can safely get to where we can watch it through the glasses... I don’t suppose those folks we’re looking for have a lot of sophisticated warning equipment. So far they seem a little bit hillbilly in the technology and strategy departments. Anyway, one hard turn to starboard and a burst of diesel power and we’ll be out of sight in the fog anyway.”
Sunset at [20 47] Page 21