Are You Listening to Me? : A Detective Toby Mystery (9781927899403)

by Cushnie-mansour, Mary M.

  “The killer cannot help himself once he sets things in motion. He is most likely very meticulous about his surroundings. I don’t believe he is of a robust stature or he would not be killing in this manner. He is likely of slight build, and I am sure when he was a boy he was picked on at school and was forced to take the blame for many of the antics other kids did.”

  “If the killer is a male, and he is what you are saying he is, wouldn’t he have targeted all males then?” Jack was puzzled by Tessa’s reasoning.

  “Not necessarily. He could also have been set up for big falls by the girls in his life––maybe even his mother. If he has a sibling, he was probably blamed for everything they did wrong, and, possibly, if the sibling is female, that would explain his desire to kill the women. If we take a look at all these women,” Tessa laid the three photographs side by side, “they are all of a medium build and athletic.”

  Tessa looked at her watch. “I have to go, Jack. Can we continue this in the morning?

  “Sure, no problem.”

  “In the meantime, I would like you to follow up on the gyms in town; there are not that many in Brantford and your friend is going to get back to you in the morning from his gym. I’ll give Bryce a call to get us keys for the victims’ homes. How say we meet at the station at eight o’clock?”

  Jack groaned. He wasn’t used to getting up early every morning. “No problem, eight will be fine.”

  “Good, see you in the morning.”

  After Tessa left, Jack made a list of all the gyms in the Yellow Pages. He dialled the first one on his list and was told he would have to come in with his identification to prove he was a police officer. They had to protect their clients. He understood.

  “Well, Toby, you feel like going for a ride?”

  Toby lifted his head, looked at Jack, and then lowered his head back down and closed his eyes. “I have other things I want to investigate, Jack––my own leads to follow up on.”

  “Okay, old fellow, I guess you deserve to rest. Hopefully I won’t be long; maybe I’ll get lucky and find a gym that they all go to on the first try.” Jack wrote down the gym addresses, stuffed the paper in his pocket, and headed out.

  When Toby was sure Jack was gone, he headed out himself. He sauntered over to the gym and walked the perimeter, looking for a window ledge where he could see from a good angle what was going on inside. “I especially want to see what’s going on where Camden works.” The front of the building had a lot of glass, but it was thick and Toby couldn’t see through it. Other than that, there were no windows on either side of the building.

  As Toby walked around to the back, he noticed one window by the back door, but there was no ledge. He observed that the building had a flat roof and he thought maybe it might have one of those skylights like Jack had in his kitchen. But how do I get up there? Toby looked around and spied a couple of trees on one side of the building.

  “This is getting ridiculous. I’m too old for this; those are some big trees! Well, here goes.”

  Toby climbed as far as he needed to get to a branch that was close to the edge of the roof. He tread carefully along it and then jumped. He looked around and saw some dome shapes sticking up from the flatness.

  “Bingo! Skylights! Couldn’t ask for anything better than those to be able to see what’s going on in there.”

  Toby made his way to the first one. It was over the back of the gym. He padded up to the one closest to the front and peered down. It overlooked the reception area and the counter where people were served drinks. Toby didn’t need to know any more for today. He would come back tomorrow when Camden was working. He turned and headed back to the tree.

  ~

  Owen felt depressed as he looked around his empty apartment. It wasn’t empty of things; it was empty of her––of Diana. The old man in the bar on Friday had been right on point when he had told him he had basically taken advantage of her. Owen had been a jerk. He turned the television on and started flipping channels. Nothing on but war and crime, and more war and more crime. Sad world … sad life he had. He fell asleep with the remote in his hand.

  A couple of hours later, Owen awoke with sharp pains in his stomach. He looked at his watch. Four o’clock. Almost supper time. Maybe he was just hungry; after all, he hadn’t eaten anything substantial since the early morning before going to the gym, and then he drank that smoothie after his workout. Owen opened the fridge to see if there were any leftovers. Nothing. He opened the freezer and noticed a frost-laden microwave dinner.

  “This will have to do, I guess,” he grumbled as he threw it in the microwave. A wave of nausea caught him off-guard. He shook his head and sat down at the kitchen table to wait for his supper to finish heating up. The dinger went off and Owen grabbed his meal and a fork and headed back to the living room. He flipped channels on the television until he came to a talk show that helped people deal with personal problems. He dug his fork into his food.

  “Pathetic,” he said as he watched a young couple discuss their problems on national television.

  Owen was halfway through the supper when another sharp pain ripped through his abdomen. It was followed by a wave of nausea, and he broke out in a sweat. He felt as though he were going to pitch up his supper, so he headed for the bathroom. His legs felt wobbly. He no sooner reached the toilet and lifted the lid than his supper came up. He sat down on the floor and rested against the wall. He felt really sick now. He was dripping sweat, and his heart felt like it was beating a mile a minute.

  “On top of everything else happening to me, now I’m getting sick!” he grumbled. He managed to stand, however, as he did, he vomited again. He noticed what he thought might be blood in the vomit. He lurched over to the sink and splashed water on his face and then rinsed his mouth. He looked in the mirror. “Pathetic.” Owen opened the medicine cabinet and took out the bottle of tranquillizers. He rolled them around in his hands and then looked in the mirror again. Another wave of nausea swept over him … he swayed over to the toilet and sat down on it, just in time.

  When he was finished, Owen splashed water on his face again. Then he poured a glass of water, opened the pill bottle, and emptied it into his hand. He gazed once more into the mirror, lifted his glass in a salute, popped the pills into his mouth, and washed them down with the water. Somehow, he managed to make it back to his couch. He flicked the television off, picked up the phone and called the real estate office. The receptionist answered.

  “I won’t be in for a while––a long while,” he slurred.

  “Owen, is that you?”

  “One and only.”

  “Are you sick? Do you need me to call someone for you?”

  “Nope. Just tell the boss I’m off for a few days.” Owen dropped the phone. “Shit!” he exclaimed as he reached for it and his stomach ripped with pain. Owen could hear the receptionist’s voice calling his name. He pushed the off button on the phone and closed his eyes.

  The receptionist was worried. Owen hadn’t sounded well at all. She pulled his personnel file and flipped through it until she came to the sheet that had his emergency contact numbers on it. She picked up the phone and called Owen’s brother, Frank.

  When Frank arrived at his brother’s apartment, he had to use his key to get in. He found Owen on the couch. There was vomit on the floor. Owen looked pale. Frank reached to his brother’s neck and felt for a pulse. There was one, but it was weak. He picked up the phone and dialled 911. Then, knowing his brother better than he really wanted to, he walked into the bathroom and found the empty pill bottle. Frank returned to the living room with it, and sat down and waited for the ambulance.

  Tuesday, June 30, 2009

  A

  s Jack and Toby were about to leave the house on Tuesday morning, the phone rang. Jack looked at his watch. He was going to be late for his meeting with Tessa. The phone stopped and then as Jack was about to close the door the ringing started again. He decided whoever it was, they must
have something important to tell him,

  “Hello.”

  “Hey, Jack, glad I caught you. Andrew here.”

  “What’s up, Andrew?”

  “Me!” Andrew waited for a second for his joke to soak in. He heard Jack snicker and then he got on with his mission. “We got a call last night that I thought you might like to know about. It was for a young fellow by the name of Owen Bains. His brother called it in. When we got there, the brother handed me an empty bottle of tranquillizers and said he thought Owen had overdosed. He explained how distraught his brother was because his girlfriend had left him, and he was broke. Owen was barely alive. His pulse was down, his blood pressure was 60 over 35, and he was wringing wet.

  “I was readily going to believe it was just an overdose until I noticed he had thrown up, and it appeared more than once, plus I saw traces of blood. When we lifted him onto the gurney, we noted he’d lost control of his bowels. I know you’re working on a case of some young people who died from some of these same symptoms and I thought maybe you’d want to run down to the hospital and check out this fellow. He was still alive when I left. If you get up there right away, talk to a nurse named, Karen. She mentioned something to me: ‘just like the others,’ I believe it was that she stated.”

  Jack thanked Andrew for the information. He called Bryce and asked him to tell Tessa he was going to be a bit late; he had to check something out at the hospital––possibly a fifth victim. Then he hurried out the door. Toby was waiting by the van door and Jack barely gave him time to jump up on the seat. Bryce had provided Jack with a portable siren; however, he hadn’t used it until now. “Hang on, Toby, we’re going for a ride,” he warned as he reached his hand out the window and placed the siren on his van roof.

  Jack pulled into Emergency parking and raced inside. “Is there a Karen here?” he asked at reception, flashing his badge.

  “Just a minute.” The receptionist got up and left. A few long minutes later she returned with a nurse.

  “I’m Karen. How can I help you, officer?”

  “You have a young man in here named Owen Bains?”

  “We did.”

  “Did?”

  “Yeah. We sent him down to the morgue about an hour ago.” She paused and then motioned for Jack to follow her into one of the empty treatment rooms. She closed the door. “Owen had taken a lot of tranquillizers, so the doctor wrote his death up as an overdose…”

  “What was the doctor’s name?” Jack interrupted.

  “Doctor Campbell,” Karen replied. “But, personally, I don’t think it was an overdose. One of the attendants who brought Owen in mentioned to me about the vomit in the apartment and he also said we would have to change the poor guy because he had messed his pants. If Owen had thrown up after taking the pills, in my opinion, the pills would have been up-chucked before they could do any real harm. Do you see where I am going here?”

  Jack nodded. “So has an autopsy been ordered?”

  “No, Doctor Campbell didn’t think it was necessary.”

  “But you do?”

  “Yes. I think Owen died from something else––I believe that it was the poison, just like those others.” She paused, noticing the puzzled look on Jack’s face. “I know about the poison because I’m friends with the coroner.”

  Jack nodded and then pulled out his cellphone and dialled Bryce’s direct line. “I need you to call down here and get an autopsy ordered on an Owen Bains. The doctor has written him off as a drug overdose, but I’m having a conversation with a nurse who thinks otherwise.”

  “You got it, Jack.”

  Jack turned to Karen. “Thank you for the info. The captain is going to call over to the coroner to autopsy Owen. How can I reach you if I need to ask you any more questions?”

  Karen wrote a couple of numbers on a piece of paper and handed it to Jack. “If I’m not at either of these numbers, you’ll find me here,” she said. “I have to get back to work now.”

  “Me too,” Jack said as he followed her out the door.

  By the time Jack and Toby arrived at the station, Tessa was going over some of the details with Bryce that she and Jack had discussed the day before. Tessa turned as Jack walked in. She didn’t waste any time asking him how he had made out with the gyms.

  “Dead end,” he answered. “I had to go personally to each one; none of them had any of those names on their list.”

  “You didn’t go personally to the gym beside our house!” Toby meowed for a moment of attention from Tessa. He rubbed around her legs and then jumped up on the captain’s desk.

  “Well, we know at least two of our victims belonged to a gym. We may have to look outside of Brantford, although I don’t know why someone would travel out of town when there are so many fitness centres here. Are you sure you got them all?”

  Jack hesitated at the accusatory tone in Tessa’s words: he knew how to do his job. “I’m sure.”

  Toby looked at Jack. “But you didn’t get them all, buddy! You didn’t go to the one where Camden works. But don’t worry, I’ve got that one covered!”

  Tessa asked Bryce for the keys to the victim’s residences. “Stop by the forensic department on your way out; they’ll give you a kit in case you find anything of interest.”

  Tessa nodded and scooped up the big orange furball. “Let’s go, boys,” she ordered with a grin.

  “Shall we take my van?” Jack suggested. “Toby enjoys being able to sit up front and look out the window,” he added.

  “Sure.” She opened the back door of Jack’s van and climbed in. “I think we should do the houses in order of the victim’s deaths, starting with Brianna’s.” Tessa proposed.

  “Sounds good.”

  Jack and Tessa walked into Brianna’s house and were amazed that everything seemed to be in order and there was no dust anywhere. Someone––Jack knew who––had been keeping the place clean, almost like a shrine. He made a mental note to talk to Caitlin’s husband, Mitch, about getting her some counselling. They wandered from room to room finding nothing that could help them.

  Toby waited by the front door as he had been instructed. He knew the ropes––he was a detective. “No contaminating the crime scene, but they can walk all over it!”

  Jack looked at the magnets on the refrigerator––a lot of gyms gave out magnets with their numbers. Tessa was flipping through a personal Rolodex sitting by the phone; she found no gym listing. Jack opened the refrigerator door; the fridge had been cleaned out.

  Jack stood in the doorway of the bathroom where Brianna’s body had been found. “What a waste!”

  “What’s that, Jack?” Tessa came up behind him.

  “Nothing,” he returned, sadly.

  “Well, let’s go to Tyler’s; doesn’t look like we are going to find anything here.”

  Tyler’s apartment proved to have no more information available for them to consider than Brianna’s had. It was evident Tyler’s mum had tidied up, and some of her son’s belongings were already in boxes. His fridge had also been cleaned out. Despite having been cleaned, Jack noted the stains on the carpet where Tyler had thrown up.

  From Tyler’s they moved on to Emily’s apartment. When they walked in, they could tell no one had been there for a while. There was a pile of mail on the floor just inside the door, and the furniture was dusty. Jack walked into the bathroom and had to cover his nose from the stench. No one had even cleaned up after her. Tessa was in the kitchen checking out the refrigerator.

  “Hey, Jack, I think we might have something here!” she came around the corner holding a plastic cup with a pink liquid in it. “Whew! What is that smell?”

  “Death.” Jack turned and closed the bathroom door and then steered Tessa to the living room. “What’s that?” he pointed to the cup.

  “Smells like some sort of a cherry drink. There is still a bit left in the cup. Maybe she started feeling ill before she could finish it.”

  Jack stroked
his chin. “Or maybe it’s the drink itself that made her sick. We need to bag it and send it over to forensics. It would be interesting if they found traces of poison in there. Too bad there’s no logo on the cup because that would make our job a lot easier.”

  Tessa carefully bagged the drink. She and Jack took another look around and then headed to the van. Toby was waiting for them inside; he’d taken a pass on the third place, wanting to catch up on a few cat-zzzz!

  Before heading to Lauren’s place, they decided to drop the drink off at the station. “Whoever this killer is,” Tessa commenced, “he is not leaving a whole lot of days between victims; we need to move as quickly as possible on any clues we find.”

  “I agree,” Jack said.

  “Me too.” Toby sat up and looked at the bag.

  Tessa noticed. “Something we found in Emily’s fridge, Toby.”

  Toby tilted his head to the side as he looked at the cup. Where had he seen a cup like that before? “Come on, Toby, wrack that brain of yours!” Suddenly, Toby remembered! He had seen Camden walking home a couple of days ago with such a cup! “I’m right! I hate being right all the time, but I’m right. How do I tell Jack or Tessa before there’s another victim? I gotta get home, check on Emma, and then get over to the roof of the gym and see what Camden is up to!” Toby began to fidget.

  “I think maybe Toby has had enough for today,” Jack observed. “I suggest, before we go to Lauren’s, I swing by my house and drop him off.”

  “Good man, Jack––read my mind.”

  “No problem,” Tessa replied. “Why don’t we grab a bite of lunch too? My treat.”

  Jack nodded. “Sounds good.”

  After dropping Toby at the house, Jack and Tessa grabbed a quick bite at a small restaurant downtown, then headed to Lauren’s apartment. There was a semblance of tidiness to the place, however nothing of any importance was revealed that would warrant further investigation. Jack was studying her calendar and noted a date with a big red circle around it and the word ‘freedom’ written in the square. Tessa walked up behind him. “Looks like that was an important date for her,” she commented.