I was finally at my destination. I felt as if I were walking on a cloud. My feet were as light as feathers and a warm feeling tingled my senses. His softness of spirit welcomed me with open arms and I felt at home as I reached out and took his hand. “Mr. Haze, it is a pleasure to finally meet you.”
“The pleasure is all mine. Please come sit beside me; my hearing is not too good these last couple of years. Would you like a refreshment?”
“Coffee would be nice,” I replied. “You have a beautiful home. I feel like I am in another land. Your collections are fascinating.”
“Money was never an object for me, well at least in the middle of my life. As a youth, that was a highly different story. I came from poverty.”
“Were you born in Montreal?”
“No, actually I was born in Laval… Plage Laval to be exact. It is not called that anymore but that is where it all started for me. My parents were immigrants from England and they settled in Quebec City for a time and eventually moved to the country. Plage Laval was a small beach town with prospects of a better future for their children. I had a sister and brother, both deceased now. Our family was dirt poor and we bought a summer cottage which my father renovated through the years. It did not turn out to be the wonderland that my parents expected. City people infested the sands with drugs and motorcycles invaded the beach stores and breathed fear in the community. Local industry was over the bridge in Saint Eustache and if you did not speak French you were not welcomed. My father, being solely anglophone found it hard to maintain a living. He had to eventually make the long commute to Montreal to find work. Now, it would be nothing but in those days it was a good travel, taking up much of your daily time. He was exhausted and his fairy tale existence soon came to a halt. He could not take the pressure anymore and disappeared leaving my poor mother to sustain the family. We found out later that he died of consumption.”
I felt I wanted to know more so I asked, “Why didn’t he move his family into the city?”
“Easier said than done. The housing market was not moving… remember it was a beach town; living was seasonal, for the summer. Because mortgages were not common in those days, he had used all his savings to purchase the place. It was a bad decision on his part, one that eventually led to his demise.”
“And your mother and siblings?”
“Well, that’s where I came in. I decided to take that trek to Montreal each and every day. I was close to sixteen and looked old for my age. I got a job being a delivery boy. I worked long hours each and every day. I made enough money to move my family to Montreal. We did not live much better; we moved to Pointe Sainte Charles. I don’t know if you have heard of Grand Trunk row … stacked, duplex housing, that mostly was inhabited by the British working class. It was soon to be the future of Montreal housing for multicultural families. I think they have since been torn down.”
“That was near the Lachine canal, right?” My mind was racing with the knowledge that Gritty’s body was found near the Lachine canal. Could there be a link? But then again how could this invalid, bound to a wheelchair kill him, and then again why? I told myself to remember the coincidence of the conversation.
“Yes, and speaking of Lachine Canal, I believe that that is where you found my son!”
I felt that I had been hit. I was not expecting that bluntness. “Yes, I am very sorry for your loss. If you would be so kind, I would like to ask you some questions about Grenville. I have been taken off the case because I was working for your son. I am not at liberty to continue for I no longer have a client. I formed a relationship with him and even though it was a questionable one, I would appreciate if you could clear some things up for me. This is totally for my own curiosity as I am no longer working within the barrier of the law. This is a personal request and I would be greatly appreciative.”
“Let me continue my story and perhaps you will see how it all played out.”
I was absorbing my visit as the coffee and small plate of sweets were being replenished while he spoke. “Please go ahead. I am enjoying it. Maybe that is not the correct word to use, but please continue.”
He gave me an understanding nod and started up again. “Like I said, it was not easy. We lived in poverty but at least I was able to bike to work. Housing was affordable but once again that came with a price. My younger brother got mixed up with the wrong crowd and was murdered in a gang killing. My sister died of syphilis and eventually my mother died of a broken heart. It formed a character within me that I was not proud of but survival told me to continue and I did. I was cutthroat with my business dealings and worked many jobs to eventually land a high paying position with the stock exchange. I invested every cent that I had and reaped the benefits. I bought and sold land at a time when everyone was looking for a new beginning. I was young of age but old of spirit. I was ruthless. Personal relationships were out of the question. I saw my mother hurt and felt the need not to be vulnerable to anyone. I used women for sexual gratification only. Money can buy the best when traveling with the right crowd. I socialized within the theatre scene, looking for an eccentric blend of personalities not conforming to typical family values. That suited me perfectly.
“And then I met her, Arlette Baton. She changed my life forever. God, she was beautiful! She had long black hair reaching down to her waist. It was perfectly straight and its shine reflected the theater lights drawing attention to its beauty. Her facial features were that of a china doll, delicate and sensual all in one. Turquoise eyes were the focus. She moved with the grace of a leopard tantalizing and teasing with each gesture. She was tall but appeared petite due to her graceful movements.
“She was working at the Taylor theatre, landing small parts but you could see from looking at her that her future was lined in gold. She played a French maid and I was immediately drawn in by her accent. The main leads were taken by English actors but her part was well received due to her being French. I had front row seats and I tried to mesmerize her with my stare. Every once in a while she would look my way and I imagined the look was directed solely at me. I hung around long after the play was over and waited at the stage door for her exit. I approached and when we met each other our chemistry was of mutual consent. It did not take long before she willingly agreed to dine with me. Her charm tempted every nerve of my body. I fell head over heels in love with Arlette Baton.”
“That is such an amazing story! How did Grenville fit into all of this? He was your son, wasn’t he?”
“Yes, I already mentioned that to you,” said Mr. Haze with an almost annoyed look about him. “Arlette and I were together for a year. She became famous in the Montreal theatre scene and our love just could not endure the pressure. She mixed with actors who were taking drugs and living a lustful life. She was young and easily influenced. She eventually ran off with her lead man. It was a couple of months later that she told me she was pregnant. I somehow knew the child was mine but I wanted to punish her for leaving. Once her lover found out that she was with child, he immediately dropped her. She begged for my forgiveness and I stupidly refused. It was the greatest regret of my life.”
“What about the baby?”
“I demanded proof that he was mine but once I saw him it was very clear that I was his father. He looked like me. I did not want anything to do with her… pride is a terrible thing. I provided nicely for the boy; he lacked nothing. I would see him every now and then. We would arrange to meet at the park. It broke my heart but I would not give in. It probably was a throwback feeling from the infidelity that my mother endured. Grenville lived with her and I provided a nanny while she was working. And I think the story was publicized about her death. I did not want to raise a child so he went to what the papers said was foster care. I never completely understood why they called it foster care. I provided huge sums of money for Grenville’s needs and education.”
“But you never supplied love!” I regretted those words the mome
nt I said them but it was too late to retract. “I’m sorry I had no right.”
“You only see this as the rest of the world saw it. I knew that I was not father material but I made that boy extremely wealthy. He had a trust fund and when he turned twenty-one he was able to draw on it. I am talking half a million a year. Grenville should have made something out of himself. He was weak… I worked hard and was successful and I expected the same from my son. I have many regrets. Let’s just leave it at that.”
“Mr. Garwood, does that answer all your questions?”
“Did you see Grenville recently? Did you have any adult relationship with him?”
“I tried. Please do not take this personally but the moment I found out that he liked men as well as women, I backed off.”
“Why would I take that personally?”
“Like I said Mr. Garwood, I have come across many people, all nationalities, genders and gender crossing. You cannot fool me with your choice. One question though … were you Grenville’s latest acquisition?”
“I don’t know whether to be insulted or appreciate your bluntness but your son’s and my relationship was totally on a business level. Did you know he was sick?”
“Oh you mean that Histrionic Personality Disorder thing?”
“Yes,” I said getting madder by the moment. I didn’t care how old he was but Donald Haze had an entitlement that I wanted to attack. Who the hell did he think he was? No wonder his son was so messed up. “It wasn’t a thing; he was really sick. He was under doctor’s supervision for years. Did you even care?”
“Look I did not help his mother when she needed me. I was a real bastard. Now you ask if I cared! I could say yes or tell you the truth… no, I did not have any emotion for the boy and I did not want to invest in him. That’s the truth. I watched from a distance and I always knew what he was up to. Money afforded me that.”
“Well, I had better be on my way. I think I have heard enough for one day. I am sorry for your loss … for your loss of Arlette, many years ago, and now your son. Can I ask you one more question?”
“I am in a wheelchair. I am not going anywhere. What do you want to know?”
“Has time healed at all? Do you have regrets?”
I don’t know what I was expecting him to say but he said the complete opposite. “Yes, of course there are regrets. I will have to live with them the rest of my life. I can’t make up for the past but from this day on I can try to rectify some of my mistakes before I meet my maker.”
“It is never too late. What are you going to do?”
“Will you work for me and find out who killed my son? You said you were off the case because your client was dead but now I am your new client. What do you say, will you take on this case?”
“I have one final question for you, it might seem strange but it is bothering me. Why did you name your son Grenville? He told me it bothered him. There did not seem to be much thought put into it. To name your son after the place he was born, seems rather dysfunctional.”
“Quite the contrary. Grenville is a place that I had a second home, a summer retreat facing the Grenville canal. Arlette and I would spend many weekends there. We loved it. He was named after its founder, Baron William Wyndham Grenville, one of the first Brits to form a government and establish the town. It was an honour to be named after him. We put much thought into it and its meaning. It was the place he was born and also his founder was of British descent, just like me. Many children are named after famous people. I guess I should have told Grenville that. I did not know it bothered him.”
“Thanks for explaining. Now, I realize that Grenville was probably using this as a way to get attention. With his HPD, he would make up things in order to make people feel sorry for him. And yes, I will take on the case. I am not doing this for you Mr. Haze. I am doing it for Grenville and for the suffering he was made to go through both while growing up and in later years. You owe him that much, and I have to be hired in order to solve his murder. That is the only reason that I am working for you. It is still in the context of working for Grenville.”
He looked at me and said, “Why are you so quick to judge me? Grenville made up stories and I am sure that Arlette and I fall under his protagonists somewhere in the realm of things. My son never suffered or lacked for anything. He went to the best schools and was clothed and ate very well. Granted he did not have his mother and all children need feminine nurturing while growing up. I did the best that I could. I had to run a business and could not be there full time. His nanny reported constantly to me. So before you pass judgement on me, know that I loved my son, even though dysfunctional within the so called family molecule. He kept pushing me away. I even offered him a position in my company but he’d rather work at Invor. He never needed the money. I later found out that he had a lover there and that was the main reason he stayed. If you detest me so much, do this for my son.”
I knew then that I would drain this pompous bastard for everything he had. He would be my biggest billed client. I did not give a shit. With all his money and all the connections that he had; I knew that without a doubt he could have helped Gritty. He just did not invest enough in his son.
“When do we start?” he asked.
“We have already started,” I said.
* * * *
I had arranged to meet Richard at the new premises. It was a small office on Peel Street above a restaurant. Richard was waiting anxiously outside as I approached.
“You have to see the place. It is huge! We have the whole floor and enough room for three individual offices. There is also a kitchen in the back. I know you will love it.”
“We’re just looking, aren’t we? I am not ready to sign a lease yet.” And then I thought about Mr. Haze. I could afford this place with what I was going to invoice him for. I silently giggled with the thought. Richard opened the door. The entrance was on street level next to the restaurant and I started to think that perhaps the traffic from the eatery might be a good thing. It would definitely draw attention to the place.
“Hurry up. I only have the key for an hour.”
The moment we opened the door I could smell smoked meat. I didn’t know how the hell we were going to correct that. It did explain the cheap rent though. We would have to get a contractor in to insulate the place so the cooking smells wouldn’t invade. I’m sure that would not be a problem. I would definitely look into this before signing a lease.
“How long has the place been vacant?”
“A year.”
“Doesn’t that say something to you?”
“Shit Adam, nothing is good enough. I have been walking the streets to find this place for us. I think with a little tender love we can make it work. The location is fabulous. Give me a break here!”
I could see the hurt in his eyes. “It is a great place; I am sorry. I just came from visiting Mr. Haze and what a number he is. Forgive me.” Once up the stairs I could see so much potential. I had a good feeling about it. Richard was jumping for joy with enthusiasm. How could I refuse him? This was going to be not only mine, but our office.
“Alright then! When can we sign the lease?”
“I have it here.”
“That was presumptuous on your part,” I said with a laugh. “Let me look at the place before you jump into it.” Its charm was evident. Windows stretched across the front of the building looking out over Peel Street. We were diagonal to Dominion Square and it would be a very relaxing view. There was always something going on in that part of town. “I thought that they changed the name to Dorchester Square, didn’t they?” I questioned.
“Who cares what square it is; it’s right in the hub of things. The Bell Centre is not too far away. If we make our window sign large enough people from all angles will be able to see it. Adam, I feel good about this.”
He had no sooner finished speaking when he handed me a pen. I int
errupted. “Wait a minute. Have you thought with this much space how expensive it will be to furnish the place?”
“You are talking to Mr. Martha Stewart. Please give me credit and appreciate what I am capable of doing. It’s not like you haven’t seen me in action before! Stop delaying, sign!”
I signed. Life was once again changing. I had to wrap my brain around the knowledge that I was no longer in this alone. Richard would make a great partner. We then dropped off the lease at the holding company. It was finalized. We now had two offices. I must admit that I was also getting excited about our new prospects.
Once the deed was complete, we decided to celebrate. It was time to put us first and forget about all the Mr. Hazes of the world.
This was our moment.
Chapter Seventeen
My head was hurting from the night before but I had work to do. Heather greeted me with her usual hello and I set about confirming my appointment with Mr. Forth. I was not looking forward to the meeting but I had no choice because now I was working for Donald Haze. I hated the man but something kept telling me to find out what really happened to Gritty. I had gone this far with the investigation and I wanted to finish what I had started. I loved Richard but I was happy that his attention was focused on other distractions. He was meeting with the painter and planning a work schedule for our new offices. It would really be his office space because I would remain in the Plateau and he would be looking after the office in the centre of Montreal. We both suited our assigned locations.
It was a little before 2:00 p.m. when I entered the building on 13 Prince Street. Richard was right; it was a very unusual location but when I got inside I realized it was the perfect building. It was a charming warehouse, probably used as a drop off point for traders at the earlier turn of the 20th century. The port was the perfect location. I could visualize men with their toques, full face beards, hair down to their waists and knee high boots trying to keep their balance on such an uneven surface. The owners would be dressed in black top hats, lined Nankeen Jackets and buckled ox hide shoes. The brick walls hid the sounds of men bantering and trading; I could feel the spirits within.
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