by Joan Boswell
After the site had been secured, the officers wanted to interview Hollis, Willem and Candace. Hollis, who’d been working through the details in her own mind, welcomed the chance to sort it all out.
“We’ll do it downstairs in my apartment,” Candace said in the tone of voice that suggested there was no alternative.
Willem took a minute to gulp painkillers. The tussle with Jack had taken its toll.
Candace’s living room proved small for the group. The officers, Candace, Elizabeth, Willem, Hollis and MacTee positioned themselves, and Hollis began.
“Candace’s brother, Danson Lafleur, has not been seen or heard from since Saturday, October…”
Poppy’s arrival interrupted her speech.
“Danson’s okay,” Candace shouted to Poppy.
“What are these police doing here?” Poppy demanded.
At this point Rhona arrived.
The situation reminded Hollis of English comedies, where people entered and exited and created chaos.
One of the officers stepped forward as if to take charge. Candace held up her hand in the universal signal to wait.
“It’s a complicated story. Hollis will tell us,” she said.
Hollis began again. She didn’t give every detail, didn’t talk about Gregory or the Russian connection. After she’d sketched in the background, she pointed to Poppy.
“This is Poppy Lafleur. She is Candace and Danson’s mother. If I’m right in my assumptions, she’s also Elizabeth’s mother.” Candace gasped but said nothing.
Elizabeth, hearing her name, smiled. “Poppy, Poppy, Poppy,” she said.
Poppy nodded. “You’re right. I was too old, too selfish to bring up another child. Candace and I agreed that it would be better if Elizabeth thought I was her grandmother.”
That was one thing successfully figured out. Now for the rest of the story.
“Elizabeth’s father was Charles Garfield Smith,” Hollis said.
Again Poppy nodded.
“He gave Poppy his valuable stamp collection when she told him she was pregnant. Once Elizabeth was born, he made elaborate provisions for Elizabeth in his will but didn’t name her, because he recognized that his son, Jacob, aka Jack, might be a psychopath who would kill her.”
“Charles was a good man. I miss him. He often talked about his son. He did everything he could but said it was hopeless, that as a little boy Jacob tortured animals and related to no one. He’d raised Jacob alone, and he felt guilty about him.” Poppy sighed. “I should have realized Jacob would stop at nothing.”
“You knew the message in the paper came from him?” Hollis said and heard her voice rise.
“I suspected it had.”
Candace jerked to her feet and pointed an accusing finger at her mother. “Poppy, if you thought that, why didn’t you tell us after Danson disappeared?”
Poppy lowered her gaze and examined her shoes. “I should have, but I hoped I was wrong. I wanted to protect you and Elizabeth. She’s a baby who can’t look after herself. Danson is a man.”
Maternal feelings were distributed unevenly if this woman had ignored her son’s danger and continued to deny her involvement. She was what she was. The important thing was that Danson had survived. Hollis directed her next question to Rhona.
“How is Danson?”
“The paramedics toted him off to the hospital. I’ll find out where they’ve taken him and see what his condition is,” Rhona said.
After several calls she addressed the room “He’s at Sunnybrook. He’s suffering from hypothermia and starv-ation. Because he was in good shape before his ordeal, they say he should recover fully.”
Before she’d finished, Candace moved toward the door, still holding Elizabeth. “I’m not leaving her with anyone,” she said. “We’re going to the hospital. Hollis, you should come too.” She avoided looking at her mother.
“Give Danson my love and tell him I’m sorry,” Poppy said.
Candace glared at Poppy. “Poppy, I can’t tell you how angry I am. How stupid you were. How you endangered us by your refusal to face reality. I don’t think I can ever forgive you.” The evenness of her voice underlined her fury.
Poppy said nothing.
“I’ll give Danson your message,” Candace said. “He’s such a caring man, I’m sure he’ll forgive you and want to see you soon.” She shook her head. “How you could hide your head in the sand the way you did is beyond me.”
“We’ll go in my truck. I don’t think you can get your car out of the garage,” Hollis said. She didn’t add the obvious—that Jacob’s body lay on the asphalt, and his van blocked the garage door. “You’ll need Elizabeth’s car seat.”
“We’ll get the officers outside to do that,” Rhona volunteered and got on her phone.
“I’ll pick you up at the front door,” Hollis said. It was important that Elizabeth not see what had happened to Jacob.
After fastening the car seat in the truck, they headed for the hospital. Elizabeth did not fall asleep during the drive. No doubt the adrenalin generated when Jacob and Willem had fought to possess her was keeping her awake.
Candace entered the hospital room and stopped dead when she saw Danson. “My God, what did he do to you?” she said as she clasped Elizabeth tight to her chest.
Thin to the point of emaciation, Danson lay with an intravenous tube dripping in his arm. He lifted his free hand, gave a tiny wave and a broad grin. “I’m going to be fine. Great to see you. I have to thank you for not giving up on me, or I’d still be locked in that garage.”
Candace scooted to his bedside, and lowered Elizabeth to give Danson a kiss. She backed off, set Elizabeth down and pulled Hollis forward.
“Hollis did it. What exactly is wrong with you?” Candace asked in a trembling voice.
“The bastard starved me. He gave me water because he wanted to see how long I’d last. Said he had to keep me alive in case he needed me.”
“You’re much bigger and stronger than Jacob. How did he imprison you?” Hollis asked.
Danson sighed. “How? By luring me to his house with the promise that if I had or knew of the whereabouts of a Canadian 12-penny black 1851 stamp, he could give me a terrific deal. Poppy told me not to do it, but I didn’t listen.”
“Why did you go? The stamp belonged to Poppy,” Candace said.
“I wanted her to do it, to phone, check out the article and go and see what the guy was offering.” He shook his head. “Thank God she didn’t. She told me it was a come-on, that those little items that promised the person would learn something to his advantage were always bad news. I didn’t listen. I was sure I could get her a good deal, a better offer than she’d receive from stamp dealers or at auction. She’d been saying she might sell her collection, and I wanted her to get as much money as possible.”
“You talked to him, and I assume he invited you to his house. Then what happened?”
“He was friendly. Asked if the stamp belonged to me. I was smart enough to say I represented a family member, but I didn’t say who. Anyway, he offered coffee and I accepted. The next thing I knew, I had a monstrous headache and was lying on the cement floor in the garage. Jacob was shouting at me through a little grate in the wall.”
“Grate?”
“I guess it used to be a milk box when the house was built.”
“Milk box?”
Danson sighed. “Tradespeople used to deliver milk, bread, groceries. The milkman would open the outside door, collect the order and leave whatever the family had ordered. The home’s residents opened the box from inside and collected the order. This particular box had had iron bars installed on both sides.” He made a rueful face. “Well-anchored iron bars.”
“What did Jacob say?”
“Once he saw that I was awake and struggling to stand up, he giggled and said he’d heard in prison that the date rape drug worked like a charm and was easy to get, but he’d never believed it worked so quickly and effectively. Then he said that he had m
y keys and my wallet, knew all about me and intended to get the stamps. I guess that was Saturday. The next time he opened the box, it was Sunday evening. He said he’d been to my apartment, read everything in my computer and files. He was mad that the stamps weren’t there but smug about a plan he’d concocted.”
That explained the heavy-footed tramping back and forth that the downstairs tenant at Danson’s apartment building had heard on the Sunday.
Candace, gently rocking Elizabeth who’d gone to sleep, reached forward and squeezed Danson’s hand. “Why didn’t you shout and bang on the garage door? Surely someone would have heard you,” she said.
“The house is set way back on the lot,” Hollis explained.
“And the next-door neighbours spend the winter in Florida,” Danson said. “Believe me, I did make as much noise as possible when I realized that I was trapped. Jacob told me to forget it, that no one would hear me, and I needed to save my energy.”
“It’s been cold. How did you keep warm?” Candace said.
“Jacob left one of those upright water coolers, a sleeping bag, a plastic pail and a roll of toilet paper. There was nothing else, absolutely nothing else that I could use to pry the door open or make more noise. Every day he’d open the little window and give me an update on his progress in tracking down the stamp. No food. In fact, he’d say hello and ask if I was getting hungry.”
“That’s fiendishly cruel,” Candace said.
“That wasn’t the only cruel thing he did. I heard word for word every call he made to Candace. It tore me apart, because I knew how upset she must be, and he was twisting the knife each time he phoned her. He’s a grade A sadist, and I felt so guilty that I’d been stupid enough to walk into his trap.”
A nurse hurried into the room, looked at Danson who had closed his eyes at this point, and whispered that they should leave.
“He shouldn’t exhaust himself. He needs to get his strength back,” the nurse said.
Hollis touched Candace’s arm. “We’ll have to wait for the rest of the story later.”
Candace nodded, kissed Danson and followed Hollis from the room.
“There’s one more thing I still need to find out. I want to know why Super Bug was killed,” Hollis said.
* * *
Rhona couldn’t wait for morning. She phoned
“It’s over,” she said.
“What’s over?” Ian answered.
“The case. Danson’s back.” She filled in the details.
“It’s a good thing Hollis pursued it, isn’t it?” Ian said when Rhona had finished her tale.
“I hate to admit it, but you’re right.”
* * *
Hollis, Candace and Elizabeth returned from the hospital close to ten. They were barely inside the front door when Poppy emerged from her apartment.
“How is he?” she asked.
“Terribly thin, undernourished and weak,” Candace said. “His mind is fine, and he’s anxious to leave and get on with his life. They’ll let him out in a day or two after his shrunken stomach is accepting food again. I guess when you’ve been starved, there’s a science to feeding you to prevent your body from going into shock.”
“Did he tell you what happened?”
“He did. I’m still angry, but I’ll share the details after Elizabeth is in bed,” Candace said.
“If Willem’s up to it, he’ll want to hear too. I’ll go and see how he is,” Hollis said.
Upstairs, MacTee presented her with a ragged Teddy Bear he’d had since he was a puppy. She patted him and tiptoed to the bedroom where she pushed the door open. Willem lay on his back snoring gently. No need to wake him—he’d hear the story when he awoke.
After she came back from visiting Candace he was awake and sitting in the kitchen. She made him a smoothie, repeated what they’d learned and helped him back to bed. In the morning, while she walked MacTee, he prepared breakfast and later told her he planned to go home as he no longer had a reason to fear the mob and had to prepare for a seminar.
But now, it was time to go to the hospital with Poppy, Candace and Elizabeth to see how Danson was doing and hear the last details of his imprisonment. When they arrived, they found Rhona and Ian in Danson’s room.
Danson looked better than he had the night before. Presumably the nutrient drip was performing its magic.
It was time for Hollis to apologize for her lapses. “Sorry I didn’t get back to you with what I learned,” she said.
“It is a prosecutable offense,” Rhona said. “But we think he,” she pointed a finger at Danson, “might not have been found until it was too late if you hadn’t persevered.” She shook her head. “Not to say that we approve of what you did, but the outcome was happy.”
“From what Danson has told us, Jacob intended to kill Elizabeth,” Hollis said.
“He did,” Danson said. “He told me there was no way he was sharing his inheritance with some brat his father had conceived.” Danson shifted, and his blue hospital shirt slipped sideways to reveal his sharply defined and protruding collarbone. “Jacob figured his father wouldn’t have given Poppy a letter saying he’d given her the stamps. He gambled that if that was the case she wouldn’t go to the police if he stole the stamps, because she had no proof that they were hers. Once he had the stamps, he’d track down and kill Elizabeth, then he’d be free and clear to enjoy everything.”
“Where did Gregory fit into the picture?” Hollis said to Rhona.
Rhona and Ian exchanged a glance.
“Given the part you’ve played in solving these cases, we think you deserve to know,” Rhona said. “He was a Russian double-agent who thought Danson not only was on his track and would blow his cover but conceivably had figured out the espionage network they’d established. Before he could take action and remove Danson, Jacob did it for him. However, the mob had figured out Gregory was doubling, and they took him out. End of story. In a way it was good Danson disappeared when he did because Gregory clearly had been instructed to kill him,” she explained.
“Thank you for telling me. Now all the pieces fit together,” Hollis said.
“Jacob thought he could cut away everything that stood in his way, but he didn’t factor you into his calculations, did he?” Ian said. “Didn’t greed and a sense of entitlement take him down?” he added.
Hollis smiled. “I agreed to help. That’s what friends do.” She looked at Danson. “Speaking of which, your friend Molly is worried about you. I promised we’d tell her when we found you, but I think she’d be happier if the news came from you.”
Danson returned her smile and nodded.
Friends. This was the second time she’d stepped in to help a friend. Was there something about her that attracted those in trouble? Silly question. It had been purely coincidental that she’d happened to be there when bad situations had arisen.
Now it was time to resume her normal life—exercising herself and MacTee, creating her whimsical animals and painting. Willem’s insightful comments about the half-finished gold painting flashed into her mind. She felt the familiar tingling in her fingertips that meant the creative block was gone, that she was ready to paint. One problem solved.
But what about Willem? Was there a future for their relationship?
Back in her apartment, he was up and shaved. “I waited until you came home. I didn’t want to leave until I’d thanked you for taking care of me.” He paused and held out his hands. Hollis took them. He smiled his careful half-grin. “I plan to return the favour with interest.”
Nothing could have pleased Hollis more.
About the Author
As a member of the Ladies’ Killing Circle, Joan Boswell has published stories in each of their seven books: The Ladies’ Killing Circle, Cottage Country Killers, Menopause Is Murder, Fit to Die, Bone Dance, Boomers Go Bad and Going Out With a Bang. She has also co-edited the last four books. In 2000, she won the Toronto Sunday Star short story contest. She has published three Hollis Grant mysteries with R
endezVous Crime, Cut Off His Tale, Cut to the Quick and Cut to the Chase. Joan lives in Toronto with two Flatcoated Retrievers.
More info on her activities is online at: joanboswell.ca
I would like to thank my critiquing group, The Ladies’ Killing Circle, Vicki Cameron, Barbara Fradkin, Mary Jane Maffini, Sue Pike and Linda Wiken. Also, love and appreciation to my family for their support.