A Cuban Death

by David Anderson

  “Your plan’s not working.” Drennan looked at him with a cold look on his face.

  “We don’t know that yet, sir,” said Drumm. He kept his voice even and neutral in tone. “It’s only been two days.”

  “Two days! And six assaults so far and counting. Tonight will make three days – tomorrow four days – while you are wasting police resources with no result. We can’t afford to keep waiting like this. I’ve told the women of York that an arrest is imminent. You’re making me look bad.”

  Then why did you say it? he thought, but he knew the answer. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said. “I think this approach will work. We’ll give this route another day or two and then try somewhere else. I feel confident our man will take the bait at some point.”

  “I am not so confident, Drumm.” Drennan pursed his lips and then said, “Who were those two women in your office earlier?”

  Drumm was startled at the shift in subject matter but he tried not to show it. Did the man have a spy in his department? Drumm hadn’t seen Drennan that morning at all, until summoned to his presence. “Women, sir? Do you mean Mrs. Gill and Ms. Walters?”

  Drennan said, “The two visitors you had this morning. I don’t know their names.” His voice was impatient.

  How did he even know about them? It didn’t matter, Drumm realized. He explained about the death of Michael Kennedy in Cuba, McDonald’s involvement and the concerns of the two women. He omitted to tell Drennan about Perez’s suspicions.

  Drennan listened impatiently and then pointed his finger at Drumm’s chest. “Listen to me, Detective Sergeant. You’re to have nothing further to do with those two women. A man died in Cuba? That’s ridiculous! It’s got nothing to do with us at all. You’ve got enough on your plate with this Riverwood Rapist. Understand? Why did you even speak to them in the first place?”

  “I hardly knew why they wanted to see me, Staff Inspector. How could I know what it was about until they told me?” Drennan started to speak but Drumm went on, interrupting him. “In any case, I told them I had no jurisdiction and I could do nothing for them.”

  Drennan glared at him. “Don’t interrupt me, Drumm. That’s right, we have no jurisdiction. Concentrate on the Riverwood Rapist. We need an arrest, I want an arrest. See that we get one soon. This has been going on far too long. We’re taking a beating in the media.”

  And I know whose fault that is, thought Drumm. “I understand, sir,” he said aloud.

  “And forget those women. I’ve given orders they’re not to be admitted again. Understood? You’ve got enough to do.”

  “I understand, sir,” Drumm said again.

  “Good. Dismissed.”

  “How did it go?” Lori Singh poked her head into Drumm’s office.

  Drumm looked at her and asked, “Did you ever get sent to the principal’s office? Of course, you didn’t. You would have been too good a student. Well, anyway, that’s exactly how it felt.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, it’s not important. Come in and sit.”

  Lori entered his office and sat down gratefully. She looked tired, he thought, as well she might, given her early morning fitness routine and the extra duty she was putting in. “You’re okay?” he asked. “Getting enough sleep?”

  “Are you?” she asked. She crossed her legs. “Don’t worry about me. I’m good for tonight. Same route again?”

  Drumm nodded. “We’ll give it one more night, then change to another one. We really couldn’t expect to be that lucky on our first try. Although the Staff Inspector doesn’t agree with me.”

  Lori grimaced sympathetically. “How bad is it?”

  “Nothing I can’t handle. Where’s Dick?”

  Lori sighed. “We may have a little problem there. He went out without me, to talk to the fourth victim, that dispatcher. I wish he’d waited for me. I don’t trust him to be all that…understanding.”

  Drumm nodded. “Detective Dick can be a little rough around the edges. That’s why I wanted you with him.” He stood up and went to the window. He spoke without turning around “At times like this, I think it will never stop snowing.” After a pause, he said, “Did you get anywhere with that other matter?” He turned to look at her.

  “I have a line or two out. Nothing yet. I’ll let you know.”

  Drumm nodded. “Okay. Catch up with Dick, will you? And keep your temper.” He smiled.

  Lori stood up. “I always do. You do the same.”

  She was gone. Drumm inhaled, a faint hint of jasmine tickling his nostrils. He loved that scent. Keep his temper? It was good advice. But he didn’t think he needed it.

  “Stand down, Dick. Stand down everyone. Go home. We’ll try again tomorrow night.” Drumm’s voice spoke into his microphone and into McDonald’s ear.

  “Roger that,” came McDonald’s reply.

  Drumm settled himself more comfortably in the car seat, and waited for the time to pass. He wished he could just go into Constable Furtado’s house and have a hot drink with Lori and Langella, but he needed to wait, just in case. At this time of night, in these circumstances, it was a hard thing to do, though. And it was so bloody cold. He could go somewhere else and wait there, like an all-night coffee shop, but he wanted to keep the house under surveillance, just in case. It was just possible the rapist might come along and show himself. If so, Drumm wanted to be there. If anyone of the right description so much as strolled by, Drumm would be out of the car and following. But nobody came by at all, and Drumm’s feet gradually got colder and colder.

  It was all he could do not to fall asleep, despite the cold. He was so tired. But that wouldn’t do at all. Drumm glanced at his watch again; half an hour still to go. And he should probably wait longer than that. But he’d had enough. That was all he could handle this night.

  He sighed. There was always tomorrow. Always tomorrow.

  eighteen

  McDonald looked at Drumm’s bleary-eyed countenance. The man clearly wasn’t getting enough sleep. The Riverwood Rapist case was taking an obvious toll, as it was on Lori Singh as well. She looked a little less tired this morning than Drumm but that was likely because of her relative youth. McDonald inspected the two of them openly and thought how ironic it was that he should be looking and feeling the best, when he had nearly been killed a few weeks before. That’s what rest and recuperation could do for you.

  “Like what you see?” asked Lori, staring rather moodily at him.

  “Of course I do, love,” said McDonald. “In those rather faded blue jeans and that lovely green sweater, you are the picture of beauty.”

  Lori snorted. “I look like hell, I know.”

  “Compared to him, you are the picture of beauty.” McDonald jerked his thumb in the direction of Drumm. To Drumm, he said, “You really need to get some more rest. Before you collapse.”

  Drumm was unperturbed. “I’ll sleep when we catch this guy.” After a pause he said, “So none of the victims remember the ring?”

  “It was always a longshot,” Lori reminded him. “It’s probably not even his.”

  “No.” Drumm dismissed the ring. “Time to try the new route tonight. He got up and went to the map on the wall and jabbed his finger at a street. “Queen Street, it is.” He traced the route which ended up in a cluster of pins in the Riverwood area. Each pin represented one of the victims.

  “I’m surprised he hasn’t attacked somebody off the Queen Street bus before,” said McDonald. “When you look at the map, it seems a likely area.”

  Lori yawned. “Opportunity, I would say. Or lack of. Didn’t work out for him.” She got up and went to stand beside Drumm. She leaned in close and then put her finger on a green space on the north side of Queen. Veterans Park. “There, do you think, Nick?”

  Drumm nodded. “Very possibly. Or maybe before that – here. There are a lot of buildings in this area. I had a look at them the other day and there are some dodgy-looking places. I saw a couple of spots that would probably work for him.” He turned to look at McDonald. “D
ick, you’ll get on here, and Lori right here – that’s two stops later – and she’ll get off here.” Drumm was facing the map again and he was pointing at the spot where the buildings were. “That means she’ll walk past the buildings and the park. Gives him lots of opportunity.” He turned back to Dick. “You don’t get off until this stop, which gets her past all the likely attack areas. We’ll have Simpson, Morgan and Langella as usual. Morgan in the park and the other two in their usual places.”

  “It’s a longer hike this time,” said Lori. She yawned again.

  “But the house is actually closer,” Drumm pointed out. “Okay, Dick?”

  McDonald nodded. “Rather me than Morgan. Or you, love. I get to stay on the nice warm bus.”

  “Don’t remind me, “ said Lori. “I’m cold already.”

  “Inspector Callahan.” The voice was business-like and impersonal.

  “How’s Dirty Harry today?”

  “Nick? Is that you?” Callahan’s voice had warmed up. “Long time, no talk. You must want something.”

  “I’m hurt, Henry,” said Drumm. “I called to see how you and Sheila are doing. It’s been way too long.”

  Callahan laughed. “Sheila is her usual cheerful self. And I am loving my job, as usual.”

  In his car, Drumm smiled. Henry Callahan’s wife, Sheila, was one of the most critical people Drumm had ever met. And Henry had wanted to retire for as long as Drumm could remember. “Glad to hear it, Henry.” He paused for a few seconds. “Now that you mention it, there is a small thing that you can do for me.”

  “I thought so.” Callahan was resigned. “How can the RCMP help the York Police Services today?”

  “This has to remain private, Henry, just between you and me. It’s not an official request.” Drumm waited, and then said, “In fact, I might get in some trouble if the wrong person heard I was talking to you. And the last thing I need right now is more trouble.”

  “That rapist case, Nick? Don’t worry, mum’s the word. What do you need?”

  “God, you’ve heard about that down there in London? That’s not good. No, it’s not about the Riverwood Rapist, Henry. This is for something else.” Drumm looked at the window of his Miata which was fogging up because of his warm breath. Just as well, in case someone wondered why he was sitting out here in the cold making a call instead of inside the warm building. “I have a situation I am interested in, but it took place outside the country. In Cuba, actually.”

  “Cuba!” Drumm could hear the surprise in Callahan’s voice. “I was there a couple of years back. Don’t I wish I was there right now. What’s up?”

  Drumm said, “A young Canadian guy fell off a balcony while he was on vacation there. One of my detectives was staying at the same resort when it happened. The local cops said it was an accident. I wanted to talk to their investigator.”

  “You don’t think it was an accident?” Callahan asked.

  “Well, I hardly know. I’m just curious. The thing is, the case has kind of grabbed my interest for some reason. I’m not sure I know why. I guess I’m just nosy.” Drumm could hear Callahan snort.

  “More like suspicious, you mean.” There was silence for a few seconds and then Callahan said, “We don’t have an RCMP office in Cuba.”

  “Oh.” Drumm was disappointed. “I didn’t know that. Well, that makes things more difficult.”

  “Hang on,” went on Callahan. “We do have a guy in the Dominican Republic. A liaison officer. He also has responsibility for Cuba.”

  “Ah,” said Drumm. “So, what are my chances of getting this liaison officer to ask the Cuban cop to speak to me?”

  “I don’t know, but I’ll find out.”

  “Henry, nobody can know. I can’t have an official request coming through channels to the YPS here. The wrong person would hear of it and my ass would be grass. I just want to talk to this Cuban detective, cop to cop. Nobody needs to know except the two of us.”

  “Why not just call him yourself?” asked Callahan.

  “I wouldn’t know how to go about it, would you? They don’t have a lot of communication with the outside world. And again, I can’t go through the normal procedures.” Drumm took out a piece of paper from his pocket. “This is what I know. Can you write it down? The officer I want to talk to is Lieutenant Colonel Jorge Misael Perez. He’s with the Criminal Investigations Department, in the province of Sancti Spiritus.” Drumm blew on his cold fingers. “I was able to find out that much. Did you get all that?”

  “Yeah, got it.” Drumm could hear muffled voices in the background. “I gotta go, Nick. Leave this with me. I’ll get back to you. Can’t promise anything.”

  “No, I know. Thanks, Henry. I owe you one. Give my regards to Sheila.” Drumm disconnected and put away his phone. He blew on his fingers again. He started up the Miata and waited for the windows to clear. He hoped he hadn’t done a very stupid thing.

  It was a different bus, on a different route, and with different passengers, but Lori felt exactly the same. Her feet were cold, the bus was dirty and dispiriting and she felt sorry for the passengers she could see. She counted eleven on this trip, and they all appeared resigned, tired or bored, all except McDonald. He had winked at her as she boarded – naturally – and she had ignored him and taken a seat near the back. She felt exposed and vulnerable, sitting in the harsh light of the bus, with darkness all around. She had to admit she was grateful for the other detective’s presence, and she was not looking forward to her walk in the cold dark.

  “All aboard,” she said into her scarf. “All present and accounted for.” The bus slowed to a stop by the curb to pick up a couple of more passengers.

  “…that. Sit tight. We’re … you.” Drumm’s voice sounded in her ear.

  Lori frowned. This was the first time that had happened. “You’re breaking up,” she murmured. “I can hardly hear you.” She put her hand to her mouth and coughed.

  “Well, I can hear you fine. And stop coughing in my ear.” Drumm sounded irritated.

  “Oh, you’re good now,” said Lori. She had her hand covering her mouth as if yawning. “You’re coming in loud and clear.”

  “Roger that. Sit back and enjoy.”

  As if, thought Lori. Even with McDonald on the bus, she felt tense. She willed herself to relax, looking out the window and trying to identify landmarks. She soon gave up and closed her eyes; she was so tired.

  “Your stop is next,” came Drumm’s voice, small in her ear.

  “Okay,” she said. Lori stood up and went to the back door and waited for the bus to come to a full stop. The doors opened and she was hit in the face by a blast of freezing air. As the bus pulled away, she looked left and right and then headed along the sidewalk as planned. Immediately she had a feeling of being watched. She turned her head from side to side but saw nothing out of the ordinary. She quickened her pace somewhat, her boots making small crunching noises on the sidewalk as she crushed the salt underfoot.

  She put her hand up to her mouth as if coughing. “Coming up to the first zone,” she said. She could see what Drumm had meant about dodgy buildings. She was passing an area of what looked like derelict retail outlets. There was an alley, a string of dingy shop fronts, then an empty lot, then some more dark buildings. The feeling of being watched intensified. She quickened her pace again, aiming for the only lit-up sign she could see. Bar, it said in subdued red neon, but when she got abreast of the sign, she could see that the place was closed.

  “…see you, Lori,” came Drumm’s voice in her ear, but it was faint. “…behind you.”

  Damn, she thought. She kept going. “You’re breaking up again,” she whispered. There was no reply. She was coming up to Veterans Park, a large dark area on her left. The streetlights were lighting the area but inadequately, and Lori breathed a sigh of relief when she was past the park and turned onto Furtado’s street. “”I’m on the home stretch,” she said into her mike.

  “Got you,” came Drumm’s voice in her ear. This time sh
e could hear him clearly. “I’ll make sure you get in alright and then pick you up as we planned.”

  “Roger that,” said Lori, gratitude in her voice. She was looking forward to some hot tea and a warm bed.

  nineteen

  The staircase stretched upwards in front of her, its steps faintly dusted with snow. There was enough illumination from the light standards in the park for her to see that, and the puffs of air from her tortured lungs. Lori bent over to catch her breath. The staircase wasn’t getting any easier, that was for sure, and she did not want to run up it this cold and dark morning. But she had decided that she would always sprint up it, no matter how she felt. This time she had to rest a bit before she tackled it; the early mornings and late nights were taking a toll on her. She had lost three pounds, though, so it was worth it.

  Lori straightened up, arched her back, did a few toe touches, jogged on the spot for a few seconds, and then, with a determined look on her face, took the bottom steps at a run. By the time she was three quarters of the way up, her enthusiasm and energy had waned but she persevered. At the top she took a few steps along the pathway and then she put her head down to recover. She was gasping for breath and her legs were leaden.

  After a few seconds, she had recuperated sufficiently to look around her. It was strange, she thought, that up here by herself in the dark, she should feel no danger, no threat. Yet, out on the street last night, with fellow officers all around her, she had felt uneasy to the point of fright. She’d had a strong sense of being watched, by a person or persons unknown. Something had been different last night. Should she tell Drumm about it? She knew she wouldn’t. McDonald would hear of it for one thing, and she’d never live it down.

  She could hear Drumm’s voice, telling the team, “Lori thought something was different last night. She didn’t see anybody but she felt strange.” She could see the knowing looks that would pass amongst her colleagues and she could guess what they would be thinking. Scared, huh? No, that would never do. It would be best to keep her feelings to herself.