by Don Easton
“Please, say you can’t find him,” pleaded Gunnar. “My brother has lots of problems. He can’t sleep … he quit drinking four months ago. This will make him start again.”
“Tell me about Evil Eye,” replied Jack.
Gunnar leaned back against the front of the car. His eyes brimmed over and he wiped his face with his hand, leaving a black streak of grease down his cheek. He breathed heavily for a moment and his eyes drifted off into space. Finally he spoke.
“All us kids had to play basketball in a gym. We all had numbers on our shirts. I was about seven and stayed close to John-Wayne because he was my big brother. All you could hear was the sound of the ball bouncing and kids’ feet movin’. Every day Evil Eye would come out from the office above and stand on a balcony and watch us. He would call out a number and the kid with that number had to go up to his office. One day he called mine and John-Wayne traded shirts with me. I never did have to go up there, but we all knew what Evil Eye was doing.”
“We need to talk to your brother alone,” said Jack.
“He won’t talk about it. He’s too ashamed.”
“That’s too bad. I think he’s a hero,” replied Jack.
“He’s my hero.”
“Let us talk to him alone,” replied Jack. “Maybe we can work something out.”
“You know what was real bad?” said Gunnar as Jack and Laura turned to leave.
Jack and Laura shook their heads.
“After Evil Eye called a number, all the rest of us kids were real happy and laughed and played. That still bothers me.”
“Because you knew you were safe for another day,” said Jack.
Gunnar nodded.
* * *
Jack and Laura followed a path behind the house that was bordered by wildflowers. The sun was shining and it was a beautiful day. Too beautiful, thought Jack, to be going to jail. He stopped and placed a hand on Laura’s shoulders.
“What is it?” she asked.
“We can’t do this,” he replied.
“You son of a bitch.”
Jack’s mouth gaped open. He could not remember the last time he ever heard Laura swear, let alone at him. “You’re angry with me because —”
“Damn right I’m angry with you. Angry that you would even have to ask me.”
They found John-Wayne alone in a shed. He was sitting on a wooden stool, carving a wooden mask that he held between his knees. He looked up when they came in and said, “You want to buy a mask … or are you from the government?”
“We’re with the RCMP,” said Jack. “We’re here because of this guy,” he added, holding out the picture of Father Brown for John-Wayne to take.
John-Wayne refused to take the picture in his hand. Instead, he slowly put the mask and the carving tools on the ground and stood up. His face showed no emotion. “I wondered when you would come for me,” he said, holding his wrists straight out in front of him so he could be handcuffed.
“We’re not handcuffing you,” said Jack. “Put your arms down.”
John-Wayne slowly lowered his arms and said, “I don’t care that I gotta go to jail. I’d smash his head again if I could.”
Jack remembered that Connie had some hold-back evidence. He looked at John-Wayne and asked, “What else did you do to him?”
“I killed him.”
“I know, but besides hitting him with a cement block, what else did you do?”
John-Wayne stood quietly for a moment and shook his head. “I used to drink. Hard to remember.”
“You did something besides hit him on the head,” said Jack. “Close your eyes. Try to remember. What sounds did you hear? Maybe a smell or the feel of something …”
John-Wayne closed his eyes briefly and said, “I stomped him after.”
“Stomped him?” asked Jack.
John-Wayne turned slightly so Laura couldn’t see and pointed to his crotch. “Down there,” he said. “I stomped him a bunch.”
“Did you ever tell anyone about what Father Brown did to you?” asked Laura.
John-Wayne shook his head.
“Or what you did to Father Brown?” asked Jack.
“No. I don’t want to talk about it with nobody.”
Jack looked at Laura and she gave a slight nod of approval.
“There is something I need to tell you,” said Jack. “Please listen carefully. There is no evidence to prove what you did. Possibly a hair, but that could have been blown into the yard or left there by you some other time.”
“But I told you,” said John-Wayne, sounding matter-of-fact. There was no anger or emotion in his voice. He looked at Jack, once more raised his wrists and said simply, “I know you will make me pay for what I have done.”
Pay? You have suffered in silence all these years … you have already paid and will no doubt keep on paying. Jack cleared his throat and said, “I’m sorry, I haven’t been able to hear a word you said so far. How about you, Laura?”
“What did you say?” she asked, cupping a hand to her ear. “I can’t hear a thing. It must be the wind.”
Jack looked at John-Wayne and in a loud voice said, “The person in the photograph we showed you was murdered near an alley that you used to frequent. We came to ask you if you saw or know anything that would help our investigation.”
John-Wayne looked confused.
“Did you watch someone attack Father Brown?”
“No.”
“Thank you.”
“That I heard,” added Laura, dutifully making an entry into her notebook.
John-Wayne slowly lowered his arms. Jack put a hand on his shoulders and said, “Good luck with your life. I think you’re on the right path, but what the hell do I know, I’m white.”
* * *
On the drive back to Victoria, Laura turned to Jack and said, “What are we going to do about Noah? He could end up like John-Wayne.”
“I’m going to talk to Victim Services to start with. I don’t need to say anything about John-Wayne. With Father Brown being at Kuper Island and the symptoms that Noah is exhibiting, I think it will be self-evident.”
“Noah may clam up and deny everything.”
“We can be pretty sure that the girly magazines that Gabriel found under his mattress were given to him by Father Brown. If Noah needs prompting, I will tell him that we found Father Brown’s fingerprints all through the magazines. Noah is emotionally distraught. He will open up.”
“And if Connie finds out? What then? She might piece it together like you did.”
“I’ll tell Connie that I suspect Father Brown of being a pedophile because of Noah’s behaviour. It won’t matter. She will still think Cocktail is the murderer, especially after my next phone call to her.”
* * *
Jack and Laura went to Amanda’s parents’ house, arriving at the same time she did. She introduced them to her parents, after which Jack said, “Is there someplace we could talk in private?”
Moments later, Jack, Laura, and Amanda were alone in a spare bedroom that had been turned into an office.
“Where are you working?” asked Laura.
“I volunteer to read aloud at a senior’s lodge,” said Amanda.
“The opposite end of the spectrum from teaching childen,” replied Laura.
Amanda pursed her lips and said, “Not really. A lot of the seniors behave like children.” She looked at Jack and said, “You wanted to speak to me in private. What’s up?”
“To start with, the defence lawyers for the three punks who attacked you have offered to have their clients plead guilty with a joint submission for a three-year sentence in juvenile detention. The prosecutor will leave the decision up to you.”
“No decision there,” replied Amanda, looking relieved. “I told you I don’t want to testify. Three years is better than I expected.”
Jack nodded.
“Did you come all the way over here to ask me that?”
“No,” replied Jack. “What can you tell us about Lyle
Ryker?”
“Lyle,” said Amanda, sitting back in her chair with surprise. “Well … I was told he used to be a nice guy. The year before I did my practicum at QE, he and his wife lost their first baby to SIDS. I know they went through a rough time and ended up getting divorced.”
“You ever go out with him?”
“No, he’s much older than me.”
“So … never anything between you?” asked Jack.
“Well … he made several passes,” admitted Amanda. “It was getting embarrassing. That was my first teaching job … I wasn’t sure how to handle it and not cause a stink.”
“What did you do?” asked Laura.
“I finally threatened to go to Mr. Bloomquist and complain of sexual harassment. That put a stop to it. When the semester was over, he quit teaching. I think the sight of children bothered him. He never got over losing his baby. When he left, Mrs. Jenkins replaced him as a chemistry teacher.”
“Chemistry?” replied Jack. “Bloomquist said he was replaced as a math teacher.”
“He did that, as well. Many teachers handle more than one subject. Why all the questions about Lyle?”
“He is the person who goes by the name of Cocktail. The one pulling the strings with The Brotherhood. The one responsible for your attack.”
“No!” said Amanda, putting her hand to her mouth. “Oh, no,” she repeated and began to cry.
Jack put his arm around her shoulder to comfort her.
“Are you sure?” she sobbed.
“Positive,” replied Jack. “This is highly confidential, but he set up an ambush and tried to kill four men last night over the war that The Brotherhood are having. The victims escaped, but I happened to be in a position to see Lyle myself. There is no doubt.”
Amanda touched the scars under her bangs and said, “He told them to do this, didn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“My God,” replied Amanda, slowly regaining her composure. “So he has been arrested … you want me to testify about my past relationship with him? I told you … I won’t go through that again.”
“He hasn’t been arrested yet, but could be soon. The men he tried to kill last night are also looking for him.”
“I hope they find him first.”
Jack nodded and said, “I have to send a text message. Would you mind making us a cup of coffee? We need to talk to you about all the other teachers to ensure that Ryker did not have an accomplice.”
It was several cups of coffee later when Jack received a text message back that read: 666-0. Jack excused himself to send a short message to Natasha.
* * *
Connie rolled her eyes when Crime Stoppers called to say they had been given a tip about a man named Lyle Ryker who had confided in the tipster that he had murdered Father Brown. The tipster gave enough details to sound credible.
Jack’s BlackBerry rang immediately. He walked out into the hallway so he could talk in private before answering.
“Hi, Connie, I was about to call you.”
“Really? What on earth for?”
“Uh, to let you know that Laura and I located that wino for you. John-Wayne Charlie.”
“Is that a fact? That is why you were going to call me if I hadn’t called you first?”
“Of course. I’m afraid it’s not good news. John-Wayne doesn’t know anything. Looks like we’ve hit another dead end.”
“Yeah, thanks, I’ll stroke him off my list. Well, goodbye …” Connie didn’t hang up and could hear Jack’s breathing on the other end of the line. She enjoyed making him wait for the news she knew he already possessed. Finally she said, “Oh, I almost forgot the reason I called. There is something I am sure you will be interested in.”
“Oh?”
“Crime Stoppers got a tip that a Lyle Ryker killed Father Brown. Have you ever heard of him? Do you think the tip is genuine?”
“Lyle Ryker … well, I’ll be damned. Did you know that he used to teach chemistry at Queen Elizabeth? Laura and I are having coffee with Amanda. She mentioned she had to threaten Ryker with sexual harassment once. Could explain her vicious attack. Cocktail also resembles the picture in the yearbook, except for the beard.”
“Anything else that would support the, uh, tipster?”
“Ryker owns a company that supplies humanitarian aid.”
“Humanitarian aid? I said, help my investigation, not hinder it.”
“Let me finish. The aid is in the form of medical equipment to hospitals and research facilities in third-world countries.”
“Chemicals and glassware!”
“You got it,” replied Jack. “Do you have an address for him?”
“Yup.”
“Be damned careful,” cautioned Jack. “I saw first-hand how violent he was last night.”
“If he comes to the door with a pitchfork, I’ll double-tap two into his chest,” replied Connie.
“Good. Watch yourself. The guy is a real psycho. Last night he said he was even going to stomp on my nuts after he killed me. Something about making sure I never spawned again.”
“He what?”
“Sorry, I’m talking low. I said —”
“No, I heard you! … Jack! That’s the hold-back information. Cocktail … I mean, Ryker, that’s what he did to Father Brown. He stomped on his crotch after he killed him.”
“Wow. Good going, Connie. You got your murderer. Go get the son of a bitch!”
“I’m on my way.”
“Let me know, will you? Laura and I will stay with Amanda until you call. In fact, my battery is getting low in my cell. I’ll give you Amanda’s number.”
* * *
An hour later, Connie called Jack back from the living room of Lyle Ryker’s house.
“You got him?” asked Jack, sounding excited.
“Only pieces of him,” replied Connie, suspiciously.
“What do you mean?”
“We’re too late. Looks like his enemies in The Brotherhood found him first. Murdered about an hour ago. City Homicide were here when we arrived. Someone took off his balls with a 12-gauge. Whoever did it let him crawl across his rug and then took off the top of his head.”
“Guess that’s what happens when you botch the murder of a bunch of thugs. Saves going to court.”
After Connie hung up, Dallas looked at her and said, “Well, at least Jack and Laura were in Victoria when the murder happened.”
“Yeah … hell of a good alibi, isn’t it?”
Epilogue
1. June 11, 2008 — The prime minister of Canada, the Right Honourable Stephen Harper, on behalf of the government of Canada, made a Statement of Apology to former students of Indian Residential Schools.
Further details are available at:
www.ainc-inac.gc.ca/ai/rqpi/apo/index-eng.asp.
2. Faith’s prognosis looks good and she has remained cancer-free for five years. Her brother, Noah, is progressing on an emotional level with continued support from a psychologist who specializes in cases of sexual abuse.
3. December 13 — Jack and Natasha made an announcement. It’s a boy!
Copyright © Don Easton, 2011
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise (except for brief passages for purposes of review) without the prior permission of Dundurn Press. Permission to photocopy should be requested from Access Copyright.
Editor: Shannon Whibbs
Design: Jesse Hooper
Cataloguing information available from Library and Archives Canada
We acknowledge the support of the Canada Council for the Arts and the Ontario Arts Council for our publishing program. We also acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and Livres Canada Books, and the Government of Ontario through the Ontario Book Publishing Tax Credit and the Ontario Media Development Corporation.
Ca
re has been taken to trace the ownership of copyright material used in this book. The author and the publisher welcome any information enabling them to rectify any references or credits in subsequent editions.
J. Kirk Howard, President
www.dundurn.com
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