A Cuban Death

by David Anderson

  “We do,” said Drumm.

  Whiteside rolled his eyes. “Rice pilaf. And steak. And a salad. Want to know what type?”

  Drumm just waited.

  “A Greek salad, then. Oh, and we watched Big Bang Theory. Four episodes in a row. And then the news. Anything else?”

  “See, Nick, I don’t think he’s quite grasped the degree of trouble he’s in.” McDonald was leaning casually up against the wall, looking at Whiteside. “Hence his flippant responses. If he did, I think he might be a little more serious about this.”

  Whiteside turned to face him. “I’m being serious! What the hell are you talking about? What trouble?”

  Drumm said quietly, “The thing is, we don’t quite believe you. You’ve already lied to me once. I think you’re doing it again. I think you and your wife may have gone out together that night and you’re covering up for each other.” Whiteside started to speak but Drumm held up his hand and cut him off. “And then there’s the whole thing about your job. You said you worked in a group home before this school EA assignment, but the fact is, we can’t find any record of that. So naturally, I’m wondering why you lied about that too. Maybe you’re covering up something.”

  Whiteside appeared very surprised. “What?”

  “Don’t forget the other matter, Nick.”

  “I wasn’t forgetting.”

  Whiteside’s head was turning from one to the other of the two detectives.

  Drumm went on, “The thing is, we have evidence that places your wife at the scene of Kathy Walters’ murder. And I have to ask myself, why would your lovely wife want to kill her so-called friend like that? Maybe it was because Kathy found out what her fiancé and your wife were up to. Possibly a little blackmail was involved – Kathy would tell all unless she was paid off. That little flower shop of hers wasn’t doing very well; she could certainly use more money.”

  Drumm paused to take in Whiteside’s reaction, which was one of incredulity. He went on hastily, “The other possibility, of course, is that you were there too. And maybe it was you, watched by your wife, that stabbed Kathy. After all, you are a lot bigger and stronger than Mrs. Whiteside. It would have been much easier for you to force that knife into Ms. Walters, who was quite a small woman. You’re a big man, and maybe you’re an angry man too.”

  Aaron Whiteside found his voice. “Do you have any idea how dumb this sounds? First of all, we didn’t go out that night. I told you. And second – most important – Kathy was our friend. Our friend! Deb and I are just devastated that she’s gone. Are you so stupid that you can’t understand that?” Whiteside turned to McDonald. “Can’t you make him see sense?”

  McDonald shrugged and said nothing.

  Whiteside turned back to Drumm. “My wife and my friend – Mike Kennedy – had nothing going on. Nothing!. He was looking at her, like I told you, that’s all, just looking at her, and I spoke to him about it. There was no relationship between them, nothing for Kathy to be jealous about, nothing for me to be jealous about. The idea that Deb or I would have killed her is just ridiculous! And whatever this evidence is that you say you have, it must be wrong. What is it anyway? Tell me.”

  Drumm said, “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

  Aaron Whiteside threw up his hands in the air and said loudly, “Of course not!”

  “I will tell you this, though,” Drumm said. “The night your friend Mike went over the railing in Cuba, we think Kathy saw or heard something.”

  “What?” said Whiteside. “What are you talking about? Saw or heard what?”

  Drumm ignored him “I visited her in her shop, you know. She was bothered by something and she was about to tell me but we were interrupted. I never got back to follow up on it. I wondered if you knew what it was that was upsetting her?”

  “Well, obviously, you think she was getting ready to blackmail me.” Whiteside was looking at him like he was crazy.

  “No, it wasn’t that. This was something different. And I wondered if maybe she had written it down in that journal she kept. Except we haven’t been able to locate it.”

  “A journal? I don’t know anything about a journal. I never saw one.” Whiteside looked puzzled.

  “Yeah, she mentioned that diary to me too, when we were in Cuba,” said McDonald.

  “Now that she’s dead, we’d better have another go at her place, Dick,” said Drumm. “We weren’t looking for a journal before. Do a more thorough search, will you?”

  “I’ll get Lori and we’ll look after it tomorrow,” said McDonald. “She’s got that other thing today.”

  Drumm nodded and then looked at Whiteside. He said, “We’ll let you think all this over.” He motioned to McDonald and the two detectives left the interview room.

  Out in the hallway, McDonald looked at Aaron Whiteside who was still sitting in his chair. He was slumped forward with one hand on top of his head. “He’s very law-abiding, isn’t he? I guess he doesn’t realize he could just walk out of here anytime.”

  Drumm smiled. “You did well, Dick. Give him fifteen minutes and then tell him he can go.”

  “Like, we’re letting you go for now but don’t do anything suspicious. And don’t leave town.” McDonald was grinning.

  “Something like that,” Drumm agreed. “And do the same with his wife.”

  thirty-one

  He walked quickly across the parking lot, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. He waited by the front entrance to the building, loitering behind a tree, out of sight of anyone entering. The wait was about ten minutes before he was able to enter the building, following behind a legitimate resident who opened the door with his key. Well bundled up in a scarf and dark-coloured toque to help disguise his appearance, he jingled a key ring and mumbled some thanks in a low voice as the door was held open for him, and then he turned decisively to the left. He went only so far as was necessary to ensure the other man got on the elevator and the doors closed on him before returning to the lobby. He waited a few seconds before punching the up button. It was a tall building and there were two elevators so he didn’t have to wait long.

  The tenth floor was deserted at this time of night and he moved silently down the corridor. He had been here before and he knew the correct apartment, which was anyway easy to spot because of the notice on the door and the strip of yellow tape across the entrance. Do Not Enter, Crime Scene read the sign and the tape but he didn’t let that bother him. He had come prepared with a variety of tools because he was no expert at breaking into apartments, but in fact it was really not at all difficult to get the lock open. With a look both ways down the still-empty hallway, he opened the door quietly and ducked under the tape, shutting the door noiselessly behind him.

  He’d brought a small LED flashlight with him and he used it now to survey the apartment. He could probably turn the lights on – after all, he was ten floors up and who would be watching? – but he thought it best to play it safe, just in case. The apartment looked the same as the last time he had been here but also eerily different with the white light and dancing shadows. Where to start? He’d thought this through before he came and had decided on the closets first. He remembered an entrance one and a larger one in the bedroom.

  He searched through the closet by the door as quickly as he could. It didn’t take long. It was small and cramped and contained only a miscellany of boots and coats and assorted other pieces of winter wear. There was a metal box on the shelf which excited his interest for a few seconds but it held only some old credit card receipts and service manuals.

  He moved on to the bedroom, which he thought was his best hope. He moved through the doorway and to the walk-in closet on the left. The beam of his flashlight wavered and danced around as he entered the small room and explored it with the light.

  A bright light, much stronger than his, suddenly shone in his eyes and he could just make out a tall figure standing behind it.

  “Hello, Mr. Gill. Looking for something?” Detective McDonald’s voice was
calm and cheerful.

  The bedroom was suddenly bathed in light as Drumm flicked the bedroom switch. “Maybe we can help you find it, Mr. Gill?” Drumm said.

  “I wish to give you the following warning…” Drumm read out the familiar statements, watching Sean Gill all the time for his reaction. The man did not respond at all, did not answer the question about whether he understood what was being told to him and appeared to be deep in thought. He was sitting in the chair staring down at the table.

  Gill was in Interview Room Number One, it was two o’clock in the morning and Drumm was tired. But he was also pleased because he had his man, had him right where he wanted him and it didn’t matter at all that Sean Gill was doing his best impersonation of a clam. Gill hadn’t spoken in Kathy Walters’ apartment, he hadn’t said a word in the cruiser that transferred him to the YPS building and he wasn’t talking now.

  Gill had been charged with Break and Enter and Drumm was disappointed that was the only charge so far. He’d been hoping Gill would struggle so that they could add a charge of resisting arrest or obstruction or some such thing but Gill had made no attempt to get away at all. He’d just stood silently and meekly and let them cuff him.

  “You can wait for a lawyer, of course,” said Drumm. “You don’t have to say anything to me. But if you do, I won’t be able to help you. Isn’t that right, Dick?”

  McDonald, who was standing behind Gill, said, “Once the damn attorney gets here, your goose is cooked.” When Gill still said nothing, McDonald spoke to Drumm. “He was a lot chattier in Cuba, you know? God, I wish I was there now, drinking a cold Cristal on the beach… Well, my friend, you’ll never get back there, that’s for certain. Unless maybe you tell us why you were there in Kathy Walters apartment.”

  “I want to talk to my wife,” said Gill suddenly.

  “He speaks!” said McDonald. “Hallelujah!”

  “In good time, of course you can,” said Drumm. “But I wouldn’t advise it just yet. Best to let us know why you were there. Maybe if you had a good reason we can go to bat for you. After all, you’d lost two good friends in unfortunate circumstances. A judge would have to take that into consideration. What were you after anyway?”

  Gill looked at Drumm and said, “Alright. I can see it looks bad and I better explain myself. The fact is, I was looking for something.”

  “No shit, Sherlock,” said McDonald sarcastically.

  Gill shot McDonald a look and then went on, “Kathy and I…well, we had a bit of a thing going on.”

  “A bit of a thing?” echoed Drumm. “You mean you were having an affair?”

  “Not an affair, exactly…”

  “You were banging her, is that what you mean?” asked McDonald. “In Cuba, maybe?”

  “I wasn’t banging her,” said Gill. “At least, I wouldn’t use those words…”

  “You were having sex with her, is that right?” asked Drumm.

  “Well, yeah.”

  “A rose by any other name…” said McDonald.

  “Go on,” said Drumm. “You and Kathy were lovers.” He held up a hand as he could see that Gill was about to protest. “Or whatever you want to call it. But why were you in her apartment? What were you looking for?”

  Gill sighed. “She had some pictures of us together, photos on her cellphone. I wanted to delete them.”

  McDonald snorted. “Naked pictures! Yeah! How stupid can you get? Never mind, don’t answer that. You don’t want to incriminate yourself.”

  Gill glared at him and then looked at Drumm. “I shouldn’t have gone there, I know. I should have just come to you and told you about them.”

  “And why didn’t you?” asked Drumm.

  “Because I thought Char might find out.”

  “You’re afraid your marriage might fall apart?” asked McDonald. “Gee, that would be a shame.”

  “So your intention in going to this apartment in the middle of the night, breaking the seal on her door and illegally entering a closed-off crime scene was to locate and delete some incriminating photos of you and Kathy Walters. Do I have that right?”

  “It wasn’t a crime scene, was it? I mean, she didn’t die there. I was just looking for some personal property. I didn’t think it would make much difference to your investigation.”

  “Oh, you didn’t, did you?” said McDonald.

  “Alright, Mr. Gill,” said Drumm. “We’ll take a little break. Can I get you something to eat or drink?”

  Gill shook his head. “I just want to sleep.”

  “Okay. Dick?” Drumm gestured with his thumb and the two detectives left the interview room.

  Out in the hall, McDonald grinned at Drumm and said, “Getting a brew. Want one?”

  Drumm shook his head and waited while McDonald went off on his errand. Through the window he could see that Sean Gill had put his head down on the table and appeared to be asleep. He watched the man stay there unmoving until McDonald returned.

  “Good decision not to have coffee,” said McDonald. “It tastes like gasoline.” He stared at Gill briefly and then looked at Drumm. “Can you believe how stupid this guy is? My God.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” said Drumm. “I thought he did rather well. He took his time and thought it out and then came up with something half-believable.”

  “A quarter, maybe, not half.”

  “Whatever, he talked. And it’s possible he thinks we’re buying his silly story.”

  “He thinks we’re morons then.”

  “People often do, Dick, don’t they?” Drumm looked at Gill who was still sitting with his head down. “Come on, let’s take a few hours to get some rest. We’ll transfer him back to his cell and have another go at him in the morning.”

  “It is morning,” objected McDonald.

  “You know what I mean,” said Drumm. “And by then we can let Lori in on the fun too.”

  thirty-two

  Gill was none too pleased at being woken up and brought to the interview room again. His eyes were bloodshot, his black hair was an untidy mess needing a wash and his unshaven face had a waxen appearance to it. The tan he had acquired in Cuba had faded considerably, Drumm could see. Studying the man, he thought he was starting to resemble some sort of very tall Goth.

  “Why am I here again? I told you everything already.” Gill’s voice was surly.

  “Did you? Well, maybe we’ll go over it again, just to be sure I heard you correctly.” Drumm’s voice was smooth and calm. “It won’t take long.”

  “Yeah, because this is important, Sean. A woman is dead, you know, and we want to make sure we do everything by the book.” McDonald was doing his circling routine again, walking behind Gill’s chair, stopping, and then moving forward into his line of sight. “Your friend Kathy was killed, and we need to make sure we get the right guy.”

  Gill turned his head to look at him. “But you have the right guy, don’t you? I saw it on TV. You arrested the Riverwood Rapist. He’s a vet.”

  “Let’s get this straight, then, Mr. Gill. In your statement yesterday, you said that you and Kathy Walters were lovers.” Drumm looked at Gill. “Yes?”

  “We had sex a few times. I never said we were lovers.”

  McDonald snorted. “Right, no love, just sex. You said you were at it in Cuba. So, when you came up to me all concerned about her dead fiancé – you remember that day in Cuba? – you were coming from her bed, is that it?”

  “No! Of course not. We were trying to find out what had happened to Mike.”

  “Let’s come back to that,” said Drumm, interrupting. “Back to last night…you stated that you were entering Kathy’s apartment illegally to try to recover or delete some photos on her cellphone.”

  “That’s right.”

  “How many photos were there?” asked McDonald.

  “How many? I suppose…five or ten altogether.”

  “And where were they taken?” asked McDonald.

  “Where?” Gill looked a little surprised.

 
“It’s a simple question, Sean,” said McDonald. “Naked pictures of the two of you. Were they taken in Cuba? In her apartment? At your place? At the flower shop?”

  “I didn’t say they were naked pictures,” said Gill. He looked at Drumm. “He’s putting words in my mouth.”

  “Incriminating pictures, you said.” Drumm was looking at his notes. “What were they, then, if not nude photos?”

  Gill hesitated and then said, “They were just pictures of the two of us together. You know, sitting beside each other, heads touching. Selfies. I had to make sure Char didn’t see them.”

  Drumm asked, “And where were these selfies taken? You still haven’t told us.”

  Gill said, “In Cuba. Some in Cuba, some in her apartment.”

  McDonald laughed. “Nick, do you believe this guy?” He rounded on Gill. “Do you think we’re as stupid as you?” he said vehemently. McDonald put his hands on the table and leaned forward so his face was right in front of the other man’s. “We have her cellphone, dickwad, and guess what? There are no pictures of the two of you like you say.”

  Gill leaned back and said, “She must have deleted them, then.”

  Drumm said, “The thing is, photos are numbered, aren’t they? They’re in sequence. And if Ms. Walters had deleted some pictures, we would know by the missing numbers. There aren’t any deletions. So she didn’t get rid of any pictures of the two of you because there never were any in the first place. This whole story of yours is an invention.” He folded his arms and stared at Gill. “Which means you had another reason for breaking into her apartment.”

  Gill said stubbornly, “No, I was looking for some…”

  “Give it up, Sean, can’t you see?” McDonald was circling again. “You’re supposed to be a smart man. You’re a buyer for a major grocery chain. I don’t think Metro would hire a dummy to do the job. But you want us to believe that you went to her apartment looking for some mysterious photos that never existed.” McDonald stopped in front of him again. “A woman had been murdered. You thought the police after searching her place, would have left her cellphone there?”