by Agnès Ruiz
“It still has the same effect on me, you know, even after so many years in the profession.”
Jessica raised her eyebrows. She was fixated on the snapshot.
“I think that’s good.”
“What’s good?”
“To be sickened. At the sight of death.”
The detective agreed. Her niece’s wise observation surprised her. Kudos for her, and she didn’t hesitate to tell her so. She was sure it would build her self-esteem. However, the result was the opposite.
“Who do you think I am? Of course I have feelings.”
She used even stronger words and became even more upset when Rachel tried to minimize what she had said, repeating that she had only meant it as praise. That’s all.
“Except that I’m no longer a kid that you can pat on the back to keep me on the straight and narrow,” Jessica said.
“In life, we all have a need for compliments. Age has nothing to do with it. It’s too bad you took it the wrong way, but I don’t really care.”
Chapter 7
Jessica was dumbstruck by Rachel’s remark. And her look of irritation. She’d gone too far, realizing it too late. She silently cursed herself with a slew of bad words, her face showcasing a composite sketch of each one of them. Then a spark flashed in her eyes when she noticed that the detective’s cup was still full.
“You forgot about your coffee, Auntie.”
Rachel turned her head and grabbed her cup. It was cold.
“Darn! You’re right. It’s not the first time. Too bad—it’s undrinkable.”
She pushed the cup away.
“Let’s start all over again, the two of us?” Jessica mumbled.
She suddenly appeared humble. And desperate for Rachel to agree. Impossible to resist.
“Deal. But don’t forget I, too, can have a tantrum. It’s not just for teenagers! So don’t go too far with your cavalier attitude.”
In cahoots, the two burst out laughing. And in such a spontaneous way. It felt nice.
At that same moment, Jeff tapped on the door frame and walked into the office.
“Well, it would appear you are all are hard at work!”
“It almost feels like vacation,” the detective replied jokingly.
“As for me, I’ve discovered our victim’s name!” the investigator announced with satisfaction.
Rachel winked at Jessica and turned back to her screen.
“Could it be a Marc-Alexandre Blanchette?” the detective suggested, mimicking his smugness.
Jean-François Millet frowned. His lower lip dropped, and then he quickly recovered.
“Exactly. How did you figure it out? Same search as mine?”
“Of course not. I followed a different lead, his clothes. Or what was left of them. And I stumbled upon...”
She turned her screen to display the victim before it had spent so much time in the water. Jeff showed her his tablet.
“We found the right one, that’s for sure. He’s a cargo ship captain. Containers, international,” Sergeant Millet read aloud. “He was fifty-eight years old. Married and a father of three.”
“It’s time we inform his widow.”
“Why didn’t she report his disappearance?” Jessica asked with astonishment.
“Excellent question. Maybe she thought he was at sea. We’ll know more soon. Jeff, you have her address?”
They used their department vehicle. Jessica sat in the back seat. She grumbled, acting like a criminal.
“It would seem you’re familiar with this back seat of a police car!” Her aunt retorted without looking flustered.
“Really! There was no need for my dad to tell you everything.”
“What I’d like to know is why you do it. Is it to get his attention?”
“Of course not! And besides, stop playing psychiatrist!”
“Besides what? Besides bringing you with me on a criminal investigation?”
Jeff also added his two cents, making sure she appreciated that it was a rare experience for her young age.
Jessica remained silent.
They approached a one-story house surrounded by a lawn. They sensed they were at a seafarer’s home as soon as they reached the flowerbed. An anchor was stuck at the edge of the grass, its chain creating a border for the walkway. The door’s knocker was a miniature buoy made of steel.
“A bit tacky!” Jessica laughed.
“Would you do the honors,” Rachel offered.
The teen enthusiastically knocked on the door. A little too hard. But no one commented. They had already spent enough time dotting the i’s and crossing the t’s.
In fact, Rachel had proven intractable during their car ride. She had forbidden her niece to say a single word during their meeting with the widow. If she did, her involvement in the case would end on the spot. Jessica had promised to be as quiet as a post card. Rachel couldn’t help smiling at the odd comparison.
A woman opened the door and appeared troubled to see strangers. She gave them a distrustful and unyielding look.
“What’s this about?”
“Hello, Ma’am. We would like to ask you a few questions about your husband, Marc-Alexandre Blanchette.”
The detective adjusted her tone to the gravity of the situation. Experience guided her in this direction. Likewise, the widow’s demeanor changed. Her lips trembled for a second and her eyes narrowed even more. She looked past them, noticing the police car parked in front of her house. Her heart quickened. She opened the door and led them to the living room.
The home’s interior echoed its exterior. Maritime scenes were everywhere. And on the floor, lighthouses, ceramic ones, lined the walls in order of height. The detective noticed that Marc-Alexandre Blanchette had been set in his ways, on land as on sea.
“Would you care for something to drink?”
Their hostess was delaying the inevitable. Another familiar scene for Rachel. Too familiar. She sat down beside the captain’s wife and gently took hold of her hand.
“Your husband’s body has just been found, in the St. Lawrence River.”
Her face crumpled. Margareth Blanchette refused to believe it, claiming that he was on a ship headed for Europe.
“When was the last time you heard from him?”
“Since ... his departure. But that’s normal. Sometimes he gets too busy to call me.”
“We’re going to have to take you to the morgue to identify his body. Is there anyone you would like to bring along for moral support, perhaps your children?”
The detective explained that the body had been in the water for quite some time. That it wouldn’t be a pleasant sight.
“They’re at work right now. I... I don’t want to bother them. But I need to know if there’s any chance this could be a mistake. It’s possible, right?”
Of course it was a possibility. Minuscule. Rachel wished it were the case. She showed her the signet ring they had found on the body. The woman began to cry, unable to stand it any longer.
“He was a good swimmer. How could this happen? And the two of us, we got along well. Sure, we had a few arguments here and there, but nothing that would make him jump overboard, I swear.”
Margareth Blanchette talked about her younger son who had just started his university studies in Ottawa. It was far away, she said. He rarely contacted them. They worried about him a lot. They were helping pay his tuition, so they kept tabs on his bank account, discovering an issue more often than not.
“I’m part of the crime division, Ma’am. Your husband didn’t drown.”
The woman said nothing, her head swirling with questions. Rachel informed her that he had died from a gunshot wound to the head.
“Are you aware of any enemies he might have had?”
“Are you serious? My Marc-Alexandre was a man of integrity!”
“That, in itself, could pose a problem for some folks,” Jeff spoke for the first time. “And about that signet ring, did it really belong to him?”
M
argareth bristled at the investigator’s question. He showed her a photo. Her hand flew to her mouth in horror. It seemed there was no longer any doubt about the victim’s identity.
“Of course it was his! What are you suggesting? That he was a thief?”
“The initials are RB,” Rachel replied, unperturbed.
“Ah, that’s right. I’d forgotten. Sorry, I’m just so confused. I got angry for no reason.”
“No, not at all. You have every reason to feel this way. My colleague can get you something to drink if you would like.”
Jeff had already gone to the kitchen. He was scrounging left and right for coffee. He lifted the top of a huge ceramic lighthouse sitting on the counter. The aroma was unmistakable. Inside was just what he needed.
Chapter 8
Jeff and Rachel drove to the Montreal port, stopping at the international shipping company. They had made an appointment with the victim’s employer, Jérôme Lagrange. The boss was stunned and then confirmed he hadn’t received a single message from the cargo ship despite numerous requests. The news of the captain’s death was a shock.
“Murdered, you said?”
“And who was the second in command?”
The supervisor glanced down at his chart.
“Luc Mongrain. A nice fellow. They often worked together.”
“And you weren’t worried when you heard nothing from the ship?”
“Of course I was. What do you think? I made calls everywhere. Then yesterday I got the news,” he said as he threw his cigarette to the ground.
They walked along the St. Lawrence River. The slapping of the waves against the concrete wharf mingled with the cawing of seagulls soaring overhead.
“What happened yesterday?” Rachel asked, all ears.
Jérôme Lagrange explained that Captain Blanchette’s cargo ship had been discovered at sea. A towboat had hauled it all the way to Halifax, Nova Scotia, the closest port.
“The engine room was destroyed. Same for the radio. No way for the crew on board to call for help until a ship passed close by.”
“And your men. How are they?”
“Hard to say. They’re expected to arrive in Montreal this afternoon, so we should know more soon. There’s been talk about a mutiny. It’s all very confusing. And some say they ran afoul of pirates.”
The owner look worried. He confided it was the first time he had ever dealt with such a situation. Particularly strange was that there was nothing unusual about the clients. The cargo included household furnishings of families moving abroad and merchandise for small retailers trading overseas.
“In other words, ordinary goods. It couldn’t have been more run-of-the mill. Every container is itemized. Furniture, books, toys, and things like that. Nothing that would tempt a pirate, I swear!”
Rachel was equally surprised by the information. Indeed, what was the story behind this murder? She obtained names of the crewmen on board and a list of all the cargo items. At first glance, the list of goods didn’t warrant close scrutiny. And the shipping company had never been involved in any legal proceedings according to the boss. Of course her team would have to verify all that.
Rachel didn’t rule out the possibility that there might be no connection between the captain’s death and his work. Perhaps it was a completely personal issue. His wife wasn’t aware of any enemies, though. What was the real story?
The detective had sent two agents to find out what they could from neighbors and friends. Another one was gathering information about Marc-Alexandre Blanchette’s family. The son who was a university student seemed a bit unstable. The oldest, a daughter, was married with two young children. She lived in the Ahuntsic neighborhood of Montreal. The younger brother was single and had been living in the United States for five years.
Later, at the detective’s request, Jean-François Millet went to visit the home of the captain’s chief mate, Luc Mongrain, who lived with his mother. It was she who answered to the knock and then stood warily with the screen door between them.
“My son’s not here. He’s at sea. And I don’t open the door for strangers.”
Jeff was struck by her feisty personality. She was holding a cane that she tapped on the floor as if to threaten him in case he tried to force open the screen door. He identified himself, assuring her that he wasn’t dangerous.
“We’ve learned that your son’s ship docked at Halifax.”
“Nonsense! It’s headed for Europe. That’s where he should be by now. He loves to party. That’s why he hasn’t called me yet, shame on him!”
Jeff provided more convincing details. He appeared to have hit the right spot. She wavered and finally unlocked the screen door.
“Let me get you a drink, young man. A Cognac? That usually lifts the spirits.”
“Just a coffee for me,” Jeff said, taken aback by the offer.
“Ah! If you insist. You see, young man, it helps to have a nip of liquor when you’re about to hear bad news. It warms up a cold heart.”
Jeff didn’t respond except to smile at the old lady. A glimmer of fear had appeared in her eyes when he’d mentioned he was a police officer. She feared bad news. Perhaps she was used to it? Lucette Mongrain maneuvered her cane with skill and determination. Once again, Jeff was impressed by her tenacious spirit. He remained standing while listening to her putter in the kitchen. He offered to help, but she told him to kindly take a seat while waiting, that it would only take her a moment.
Jean-François Millet used the time alone to examine her living room. Hanging above the massive stone fireplace was a portrait of Luc Mongrain. A painting of him in his mariner’s uniform. Clearly, Lucette Mongrain was very proud of her son. On the walls were several photographs from exotic locales and world capitals. None arranged in any order.
“You see, my Luc, he takes good care of his old mother,” Mrs. Mongrain said as she returned to the room.
He stopped to look at another snapshot. Lucette Mongrain stood admiring the picture. A young woman was seated next to the chief mate.
“These pictures from faraway places, are they from him?”
Jeff raised his arm towards the photographs.
“Yes, most of them.”
“Who’s the young woman? She’s in several of the pictures. His girlfriend?”
The old lady chuckled as she set the coffee cup down on a side table.
“Hardly! My son is gay. She’s just a friend. I used to think he was in love with her. Then he told me the truth. I’m incorrigibly nosy. I was always pestering him with questions. So that he would settle down, you see. Oh well, it’s his life. What’s important is that he’s happy, my Luc.”
She pointed to the sofa, and Jeff sat down. She had also carried in a plate of muffins, her son’s favorite, she warmly added. She turned to pour herself the Cognac she had offered him. Now her piercing eyes focused on her visitor. The investigator felt it was time, but he hesitated to speak.
“Something’s happened, right? And you don’t know how to tell me.”
“That’s right.”
She helped him, holding up her glass as if to say she had heard plenty during her lifetime, that she was ready. For whatever he had to say, she insisted with her penetrating look. Jeff nodded, astonished by the composure she had mustered. Finally, he began. He told her about the cargo ship that had been towed all the way to Halifax.
“Do you know Captain Blanchette very well?”
“Of course. He and Luc are good friends. They were more than just work colleagues, you see. He’s dined at our house many times. With his wife. That one, she’s a bit reserved. But that’s her nature. To each their own.”
The conversation continued in the same vein. She hadn’t heard anything from her son. He would undoubtedly come home with the rest of his shipmates. She spoke these words so firmly as if there could be no other way. Jeff nodded his head. He asked a few more questions and then decided it was time to leave. Not before asking her to contact him if Luc came back or gave any
signs of life. An expression he regretted using, but she didn’t respond—on purpose. She had just refilled her glass with Cognac and was holding it in her hand as she accompanied him to the door.
Chapter 9
On her way back to the office, Rachel ran into Mina Dorchester.
“I’ve got the ballistics report if you have a moment, Rachel,” the scientist said.
“Oh, that’s great!”
“Detective Toury, there’s someone waiting for you...”
Rachel turned to Paul at the front desk and furrowed her brows. She was positive she didn’t have any appointments. He pointed towards the waiting room where she saw Jessica standing up to greet her.
“Auntie! Classes at school were deathly boring.”
“Not as much as at the morgue, trust me!” the detective retorted.
The teen groaned at the pun but didn’t erase her smile. The cheerful mood didn’t fool her aunt. Rachel considered Mina Dorchester who was waiting for her and then her niece.
“Your father knows you’re here?”
“Yes. You can call him if you don’t believe me!”
There she was challenging her again. Rachel seriously doubted her. She thought about sending him a text, and then changed her mind. After all, it was better for her niece to be here than who knows where else. Particularly considering the tension between her brother and Jessica.
“Would you mind if my niece joined us, Mina?”
The question was only a formality. Rachel quickly made the introductions. The three headed towards the laboratory where Mina Dorchester carried out her tests. Jessica became excited the moment she saw all the equipment, asking one question after another. After a while, the detective interrupted her.
“I agreed that you could accompany us, but not that you monopolize the conversation, Jess.”
She smiled all the same. “It’s super fascinating! Students should be able to visit here, instead of going to class, I mean...”
“All of it, as long it has nothing to do with school, if I understand you correctly,” said Mina. “So, Rachel, we were able to identify the handgun that was used.”