Death on the St. Lawrence

by Agnès Ruiz

  “I’m all ears.”

  The young woman showed them a Luger Parabellum on her computer screen.

  “Without a doubt, it’s a nine millimeter semi-automatic handgun. Nothing very surprising since it’s the most widely used in the world. Unfortunately for you, there wasn’t anything else we could trace from the bullet extracted from the corpse.”

  “In your opinion, is it the same weapon used to blow out his brains?”

  The detective bit her tongue. She had forgotten that her niece was present, so she decided to avoid asking detailed questions. With luck, Jessica hadn’t been listening very closely.

  “I compared the two. The wound entry corresponds to the projectile.”

  Rachel thanked her colleague and led Jessica back to her office. Without uttering a word, Jessica settled into her spot just as before.

  “You see, I can be a very good listener.”

  Rachel nodded in appreciation. She quickly changed her mind when the teen smirked that she and the ballistics expert had used some funny language.

  “Yes, awkward wording,” her aunt said as a feeble excuse.

  Neither one believed the other, of course.

  “And your homework?”

  “Done. But that’s not why I’m here. I want to know how our investigation is going.”

  The detective couldn’t resist laughing. She decided to play along and so gave her a full account of all she’d missed. It was more productive to make amends, even for her. And updating Jessica about the case gave it a fresh perspective.

  Chapter 10

  The crew members from the cargo ship were back in Montreal. The hypothesis proved conclusive. They had encountered pirates. An extremely rare occurrence in Canadian waters, as the head of the shipping company had mentioned earlier. The mariners had been questioned by the police before being allowed to return home. Some were not so lucky. Two of them had been wounded. Not by gunfire but by blunt force. Jeff and Rachel were responsible for gathering testimonies. One of the shipmates was being treated by Peggy Fitzgerald, the department psychologist. William Fortin had suffered severe trauma. He had been a stutterer since childhood and had overcome the speech impediment. Unfortunately, the stressful encounter had brought it back with a vengeance. He had to undergo several tedious sessions with the psychologist in order to regain the ability to converse normally. Thankfully, he was as determined as she was patient. Peggy’s professionalism was unwavering—vigilant and always ready to listen. As she was with Jessica when she had the opportunity, or rather when the teen agreed to talk.

  The crew members were given time off. Though allowed to return home, they were forbidden to travel outside the region while the investigation was ongoing. Additional questioning might be necessary.

  “What I can’t comprehend,” the detective mused, “is why the chief mate wasn’t with them. Everyone has testified that he was definitely on board.”

  “His mother assured me she hasn’t heard a word from him since his departure,” Jeff said in a worried tone.

  Rachel was harboring the same thought. Would they soon find a second cadaver in the St. Lawrence? It was the most plausible explanation for Luc Mongrain’s disappearance.

  “Unless he happened to be one of the pirates,” Jessica suggested.

  Hands behind her back, Rachel stood facing the white board as she pondered the evidence. She could have passed for a politician ready to spout out orders.

  “Of course I had thought of that,” she said stiffly.

  Yet she hadn’t considered it. Why not? She was curious to understand her niece’s train of thought. Sometimes a new pair of eyes could shed light on a complicated case.

  “What would be his motive?” she quizzed her.

  “Money, it’s always about money!”

  The teen brandished her arms in the air to emphasize the obvious.

  “You seem so jaded, Jessica. One would think you were at least a hundred years old.”

  “You know, after hearing all the heated arguments between Mom and Dad, I think I know a thing or two about it. For them, it’s always about money!”

  This last comment darkened the mood. Rachel preferred to ignore this detail and stay focused on the murder investigation.

  “In that case, it would be advisable to carefully examine his financial situation,” the detective said to validate her.

  Standing at the white board, she picked up a marker to write down the evidence, drew a circle around it all and then an arrow pointing to Luc Mongrain.

  “We have the gun found aboard the ship,” Jeff interrupted. “One of the crewmen picked it up.”

  The investigator showed them the photo of the Luger. It was the same weapon that had wounded and killed the captain. Unfortunately, as Mina Dorchester had mentioned, it was one of the most widely used models. The semi-automatic was currently in the hands of the ballistics expert.

  “Better to not get too carried away with this piece of evidence,” Rachel advised, though clearly interested. “The witnesses are fuzzy on the sequence of events. Some say they were confined below deck. Others state that the pirates blended in with the crew. Of course, the pirates presented fake identities in order to get clearance to board the ship. I have a feeling that this heist was very carefully planned. Clearly we’re missing a piece of the puzzle.”

  “Diamonds inside one of the containers?” Jessica proposed, looking bright-eyed.

  “Holding on to your theory about money! Good job, Jess. Staying on the same track. I like that.”

  The teen gave a beaming smile. Once again, the detective put things into perspective. She walked over to her desk and picked up the set of documents provided by Jérôme Lagrange, the boss of the shipping company.

  “The cargo list doesn’t point in that direction,” she murmured. “Yet, it’s obvious that goods of this nature seem to be a key element. Those men were looking for something. Two crewmen reported hearing the pirates demand information from Captain Blanchette. They wanted to know where to find one container in particular.”

  “I get the feeling these documents are missing some information,” Jeff concurred as he scrutinized the itemized list of goods provided by the cargo company.

  “I completely agree with you. This explanation is more compelling. Another element, the pirates spoke in English.”

  “Several said they spoke with a really bad accent. More like a German English. This remains to be proven.” Jeff said.

  “Good point, Jeff.”

  Chapter 11

  Rachel was looking over some files they had just received—screenshots of the fake photo identification the pirates had used to board the ship.

  “I’m going to contact Interpol. Jeff, your job is to focus on the chief mate. Get ahold of the shipping company’s financial statements to find out about their regular customers. Look for any signs of financial problems or fraud, anything suspicious looking. In other words, the usual rundown...”

  “I think it would be a good idea to order a surveillance of Luc Mongrain’s home,” Jessica said. “If he’s involved, he’ll want to reassure his elderly mother that he’s alive. Or something like that.”

  “Excellent suggestion,” Jeff said. “Rachel, the little one’s really good!”

  “I’m not little!” Jessica retorted.

  She raised her chin and glared at him. The investigator laughed, sure that she was only joking. However, her attitude didn’t change, so he had to explain that he hadn’t meant to hurt her. If fact, just the opposite.

  “It was meant as a compliment, young lady!”

  “Well, you’re a loser when it comes to flattery,” she snapped at him. “No wonder you’re still single.”

  “Time out! That’s enough of the kindergarten talk.” Rachel said, raising a hand.

  Jeff chose to remain silent. Finally, he left saying that he had a lot of work to do. His footstep was abrupt and he slammed the door, signs that he could barely control his anger. The detective crossed her arms and expres
sed her frustration with Jessica.

  “What’s your point? You think it’s funny to get on the wrong side of people? Jeff, he’s a good guy. And an excellent partner.”

  “I didn’t say anything bad!” Jessica exclaimed sullenly.

  “So you think it’s nice to hurl his bachelor status at him?”

  Jessica pouted. Then she shrugged a shoulder.

  “Come on, it’s not such a big deal. He’s a big boy, right? Anyway, I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh, well. In fact, yes. But do you think I like it when somebody treats me like I’m little?”

  “It had nothing to do with your height. It was about your age.”

  “Exactly the point! I’m a girl, still just a kid. And that’s something nobody seems to realize.”

  All of sudden she burst into tears.

  “Jess, it’s no big deal. We’ve all been there, you know,” the detective said softly, yet irritated by this about-face.

  “It surely doesn’t seem that way. You’re just like my dad. I’m getting out of here. I don’t belong in all this.”

  “All right. If that’s what you prefer.”

  Rachel was playing with fire. She sensed, however, that Jessica wasn’t being one hundred percent sincere about her outburst. But what if she were wrong? The teen stood staring at her as if she couldn’t believe her ears.

  “That’s all you have to say?” she said in shock, her lips trembling in dismay.

  “What do you expect? No, please, Jessica. Don’t leave. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have ... blah, blah, blah?” the detective imitated herself without taking her eyes off her niece.

  “Uh, yeah. Something like that.”

  “That will never happen. I have an investigation to conduct.”

  “And no time for family. I’ve heard that before.”

  The conversation wasn’t going in the direction she had hoped. Rachel wondered if she should lower the bar, though it might defeat her purpose.

  “Listen, Jess. I’m happy to have you here. You seem to have a hunch for sorting out the clues. That’s a compliment. Believe me! It’s my job to do that. Following leads, heading investigations. Then, there’s my family. It’s like two parallel worlds. They intersect all the time, sometimes colliding into each other. That’s how it works. I chose this way of life. I think I’m good at what I do. I don’t want to fight with you. If you want to, stay. And if that’s the case, you’d better go apologize to Jeff. He’s just broken up with his girlfriend, and he’s not handling it very well. So, you see why your comment to get back at him for affectionately calling you ‘little’ felt like a punch in the gut. And on top of that, he doesn’t know you very well. That’s a lot to process.”

  “He shouldn’t have called me little!” Jessica said with her arms crossed.

  “Oh, so it’s tit for tat. You can’t have an outburst every time someone treats you this way or that. Otherwise, you’ll need to live I don’t know how many years before you understand you were wrong!”

  Jessica grabbed her things and declared she was leaving. At the door, she hesitated. Perhaps she was hoping her aunt would call out to her and say she was sorry. Her parents sometimes behaved that way, appearing to be more understanding to reel her back in. Trying to stop her from making one mistake or another! In this case, all she heard was a mouse click. So she left the room with a heavy heart.

  Chapter 12

  Rachel felt shattered by the verbal fight. And with her niece of all people. She had wanted their relationship to be friendly and uncomplicated, and dare she hope warm?

  She felt guilty that she hadn’t done something to stop her from leaving. And hadn’t told her she was sorry, that she had overreacted.

  “I can’t believe this happened!” she said as she stared at her computer screen.

  She took a break from her research to figure where she’d slipped up. She needed to face the facts. She hadn’t been wrong. Jessica was a wonderful girl. She did, however, need to understand certain rules such as how to behave around other people. She was on the verge of calling her brother to tell him what had just happened, but then changed her mind. That might add fuel to the fire, and what good would that do?

  Instead, she invited them to her home for a family meal, sometime soon without specifying when. On the answering machine.

  She made a heartfelt decision to wait a week before reaching out to Jessica in person. To check in on her. Of course, only if her niece hadn’t yet contacted her. In the meantime, she needed to focus on her work.

  There were people counting on her. At the top of the list was the captain’s wife. Margareth Blanchette stated there hadn’t been any major problems in their marriage. Enquiries among friends and neighbors indicated the same. Except for an old spinster out walking her dog. She claimed to have overheard an argument, a rather heated one and had seen Marc-Alexandre storm out of house.

  When the widow was questioned about it the following morning, she wanted to know who had reported such gossip.

  “That’s not the question,” the detective responded.

  Her voice was sterner than usual considering the circumstances. Margareth Blanchette appeared taken aback. She didn’t invite the police officer inside her home, keeping a firm hand on the door.

  “I disagree. My husband is dead. I can’t give him the burial he deserves because of this investigation. And to top it off, some evil-minded folks are getting away with spreading nasty rumors.”

  Every ounce of this woman’s suffering had just been hurled at Rachel. The policewoman was no rookie. She’d heard much worse during her professional career. Yet it was painful and very real.

  “Could you tell me more about it?”

  “And revisit every little spat?”

  “It might be better if we talk inside.”

  They stared at one another, gauging the other’s reaction. In the end, Margareth was the loser in the silent duel. They headed to the kitchen. In no time, two cups of coffee were sitting on the counter. Muted sounds of a radio floated in the background, the volume set so slow it was hard to tell if it was music or a talk show.

  “Do you take sugar?”

  “Black is fine.”

  The captain’s wife poured a spoonful of sugar into her cup and then stirred the steaming coffee. She sat perched on a tall barstool looking resigned as she faced the policewoman. She wrapped her hands around the cup, and then quickly removed them.

  “Physical suffering is preferable to ... to all this, you know!”

  Rachel studied the widow, her erratic gestures and the unbridled, tearful look she gave her. Detective Toury didn’t say a word. She sensed it would be useless. She had guessed correctly.

  “It’s true. We argued,” Margareth soon conceded. “I didn’t totally hide it from you when you first came here to break the bad news.”

  Rachel remembered it. The widow had seemed reluctant to go down that path, minimizing their true relationship. Looking back, the detective wished she had dug a little deeper. It hadn’t been the right moment. It never was. There was something more, though. Something emanating from this woman. An impressive amount of modesty and strength. She seemed to have taken the police officer’s silence as an invitation to continue.

  “A week before he went back out to sea, we had a fight. I insisted that we sell our house and move closer to our son in Ottawa. Marc-Alexandre wouldn’t hear a word of it. He was unrelenting—like something was eating away at him. He got annoyed over trivial things and really irritable whenever I talked about new household projects, but he refused to leave.”

  “Did you ask why he was acting so strangely?”

  “Of course I did! What do you think? He’d been eligible for retirement for over two years. He clung to his job like it was all he had in the world. Now, it’s too late.”

  “He loved his work more than anything, I suppose.”

  The woman looked at Rachel as if she didn’t know what she was saying. A gri
mace pulled at the corners of her mouth.

  “That was true several years ago—the good old days as he would say. Then came one change after another. Budget cuts and more work for less pay. The atmosphere among colleagues also changed.”

  Once again, Rachel asked if she knew of any enemies. Margareth Blanchette vehemently denied he had any.

  “He was desperate to keep his job, to be in charge of the ship. It was his life. As I said before, he should have already taken the early retirement they had offered him. We could have traveled and visited our son in the United States, spoiled our grandkids, spent more time with them. Enjoyed life. He was always counting every last penny so that we would have plenty in our savings account.”

  She voiced so many regrets. Rachel learned that it was Marc-Alexandre who managed the couple’s budget. She had no interest in it. Gardening was her passion, as well as the library where she worked, and her friends. At least it appeared she had a support system to help her through the suffering.

  Rachel’s next question was likely to upset her quite a bit. Nevertheless, she couldn’t skip it.

  “Did you ever suspect your husband of having an affair?”

  “No! Of course not.”

  Surprisingly, she seemed to protest too quickly. She seemed desperate to prove her point. She looked around for photos of them together, the happy times they had spent together. The detective listened with her characteristic patience and attention. No utterance was trivial. And from certain words she deduced more and deeper meanings. And among other things, she learned about Margareth Blanchette’s dismay at her husband’s incomprehensible behavior during the last several months. What had happened to change the captain’s predictable life?

  The police officer returned to her office in a pensive mood. She was supposed to meet with an agent from Interpol in a few minutes. A Guillermo Voily who responded to her query about the suspects who had boarded the ship under false names.

  The man called her via Skype a little later than scheduled. He apologized and flashed her a friendly smile. He pretended to offer a virtual coffee to the detective who lifted up her own. It was one way of breaking the ice as they say. Then, they got to work on the investigation, talking for at least half an hour. Rachel took notes. They said their goodbyes and expressed their hopes of seeing each other again. Via video camera.