Deadly Legacy (A Carmedy & Garrett Mystery)

by Bruce, Alison

  The living room was simply furnished with a futon couch, a crate coffee table, utility shelves and a bistro table for two, all in unfinished pine. The bedroom was similarly furnished. Valerio had not been far off when he guessed Jake's decor. The couch cover had beige and white stripes and his bed linens were in green and beige squares. If his utility shelves hadn't been full of real books, music and movies, his home could have been mistaken for a showroom in Ikea.

  "Whatever," Jake muttered, giving his place a quick security sweep.

  It wasn't that he didn't like colour. There was a time, right after retiring from the armed forces, when Jake went crazy for colour. He went crazy, period. For a while, there was too much colour, too much alcohol, too much of whatever he could get his hands on to push away the pain of the wound and personal loss. In one mission, one wound, he lost his career, his sense of identity and almost his life.

  Then, just as suddenly, he got off the meds, the alcohol and the self-destructive merry-go-round he was on. He blasted himself free and colour suffered collateral damage.

  "Khaki," he said aloud, searching his closet for something appropriate to wear. Aside from his uniform, which was olive green, and a brown suit he wore to court, his closet was full of khaki, khaki beige, khaki green, dark khaki. "Khaki, khaki, khaki. And blue jeans!"

  They were hiding in the back of the closet. They had been part of a Christmas gift from Joe, Thorsen and Maggie. Three or four years ago, they gave him stone-washed jeans, a denim shirt and a bright red sweater in hopes of breaking him out of his habitual khaki wardrobe. It didn't work. The shirt was a too small. Jake was deceptively wide across the shoulders. He wore the jeans and sweater once a year, when he went to the Thorsens' with Joe for Yuletide dinner.

  He pulled the jeans and sweater out of the closet and held them at arm's length.

  "Perfect!"

  Jake made a low-key entrance. Patrons were still finishing their dinners, though the wait staff was gently hurrying them along. His military career had ingrained in him the habit of punctuality. It also prepared him to wait while those less punctual got squared away. He hung up his coat and took a seat at the counter and waited until a member of the Filandros family had time to greet him.

  "Mr. Carmedy?" said a teenage girl in the standard black pants and white shirt of a server. "Is that you?"

  "If you are thinking of teasing me about wearing something other than khaki, forget it. I'll get enough of that once Thorsen and Valerio arrive."

  She laughed and, without waiting to be told, brought him an energy drink and a glass with ice.

  It wasn't teasing that greeted him next. When Maggie walked through the door with her three daughters, she stopped, stared and started to tear up.

  "Oh, Jake. That's the perfect thing to wear tonight."

  "I can see we are on the same wavelength," he said.

  There wasn't a hint of black between them. The girls, with their various shades of red hair, wore different shades of green. The middle child, Sonia, had painted a bright green streak in her auburn hair. Since she was also the tallest, as tall as Jake, it made her look like a hyper-thyroid leprechaun.

  Maggie also wore green, a forest green, velveteen muumuu. The soft material made her even cuddlier than usual. When she walked into his embrace, Jake had a hard time letting go.

  "Why green?"

  "Green is the colour of life," Andrea explained solemnly. "It's the colour of renewal."

  "Besides," added Erica, the youngest, "it was one of Uncle Joe's favourite colours. Right Mummy?"

  Maggie nodded and put an arm around her daughter.

  "Let's go find a table. I've been on my feet all day and I am ready to fall over."

  Peter Filandros appeared as if on cue and invited them to the back of the restaurant where plates of finger foods and iced buckets of bottled soft drinks were set out. Another serving table was used as a memorial to Joe Garrett. Enlarged prints of him as a young police officer, a new father and one from the grand re-opening of the Helios were spaced along the table. Jake had contributed a scrapbook from the agency and an old touchpad and monitor was recording and displaying messages from friends and family.

  All but one of the dining tables had been cleared to accommodate the guests. At that table, Piper Callan held court with a handful of other Touchstone employees. They were all in black, albeit party black.

  "Mr. Carmedy, what a lovely sweater."

  "Thank you, Ms. Callan."

  "Ironic, on a day of mourning you wear the colour of defiance."

  "That's all right, Ms. Callan, you're wearing enough black for both of us."

  "Ouch! That'll teach you, Piper."

  Jake turned toward the voice. It was Gage's secretary, Nissa Ilko, strikingly dressed in a blue and silver sari. Jake did a double-take when he noticed the silver was an embroidered pattern of snowflakes. He made a formal bow, which she returned.

  "It's a bit ceremonious for evening wear, I know. It was an outfit Mr. Garrett particularly admired."

  Joe smiled and nodded. There was a lot to admire. The flowing garment did nothing to hide Ms. Ilko's gorgeous figure.

  "This sweater was a gift from Joe," he said. "Can I get you something to drink, Ms. Ilko?"

  "I think I'll wait."

  "For Felix?" Piper asked.

  Jake wasn't the only one who stared. Piper wasn't a stupid woman. It was obvious from her expression she knew she had taken the wrong approach. This wasn't the time to snipe at one's enemies. Her recovery was swift, if not very sincere.

  "I'm sorry, Nissa. This whole business has me on edge."

  Nissa Ilko ignored the remark and apology, so Jake did the same. Being well trained by Joe, he filed the information away for later.

  He was hoping more people would arrive soon so he could disappear into the background. The next arrival only made things worse. It was David Kessler, the man who married Joe's ex.

  Maggie brushed past Jake. She greeted Kessler with a hug and, Jake noticed, he wasn't the only one who had a hard time letting go of the voluptuous Mrs. Thorsen. Kessler held her for several seconds longer than a friendly hug.

  "Is Igor here?" Kessler asked, looking around.

  "Not yet. Emma?"

  "She had a late meeting with an out-of-town official. She'll be along as soon as it's done."

  Maggie's brows creased. "How's Kate?"

  "We haven't heard from her since yesterday. Emma has taken over the details of the service tomorrow. Kate has been looking into the circumstances around Joe's death."

  Jake's ears pricked up.

  "It was an accident, right?" Maggie half asked, half stated. "She doesn't think it was deliberate, does she?"

  "I don't think so. She thinks there's something fishy about the case he was on when he was killed."

  "Oh, good lord," Jake muttered, just loud enough to draw Maggie and Kessler's attention.

  Kessler shot him a puzzled look.

  Maggie 's expression was stern, then she graciously smiled at Kessler. "You know Jake Carmedy, don't you, David?"

  "We've met." Kessler offered his hand. "Sorry, Carmedy, I should have said hello."

  "No problem, Kessler. It's been a while. So, Kate Garrett's investigating her father's death. How interesting."

  "Not his death, precisely."

  "She's poking her nose into my case, isn't she?"

  Jake found himself at the wrong end of a stare armed with thirty years of medical practice coupled with eighteen years of psychiatric counselling. It cut through the crap and straight to the bone. Jake was a little surprised. He had taken Kessler for a lightweight. He looked so mild.

  "Understandable, I suppose," Jake said, trying to sound like he was cool with it all. "And it isn't really my case anymore, thank heaven."

  Maggie decided some intervention was needed.

  "That's the case of the paranoid risk consultant, isn't it?"

  Jake grinned and nodded. Maggie had a way of putting things in perspective using hum
our. For the sake of relieving the tension, Jake decided he could share the public details of the case.

  "Eldridge received a couple of vague, paste-up threat letters. The police investigated, couldn't turn up anything. That was the one thing that was really noteworthy about the case. Whoever was sending the letters was very careful to keep the notes free of identifying clues. There were no fingerprints, no saliva, hair or skin traces."

  Nissa tapped him on the shoulder. "What kind of vague threat?"

  "Same thing, both times—'Better look out. I'm watching you.'"

  "Oh. Mr. Gage got a couple of those a month ago."

  "Did you tell the police?" Jake asked.

  She gave a breathy chuckle. "I didn't even tell Mr. Gage. He gets about a dozen threatening letters a year. This was fairly innocuous by comparison. The only thing setting it apart was the cut and paste job. It was so neat."

  Jake considered this.

  "You didn't destroy them, did you?"

  "Oh, no. I seal them in a bag and file them in a special archive. I boxed the lot of them up for the police after Mr. Gage's death. I don't know if they've had a chance to go through them yet."

  "I'll look into that tomorrow."

  David shook his head with exaggerated disdain. "And they say medical professionals are bad for shop talk."

  "I don't think anyone is worse than insurance people," Nissa said, turning her charm on him. "Adjuster's trade worst case scenarios, the underwriters talk about the one that got through the loophole, and I think every examiner is a born-again storyteller. As an administrative assistant, I hear it all. Unlike some people, however, I don't tell all."

  "And if that isn't an invitation to be interviewed," Carmedy told Valerio a little while later, "I don't know what is."

  "Maybe she just wants to be interviewed by you. Still, it's worth following up. So is the threatening letter. Come to the department tomorrow morning with what Eldridge gave you and we'll compare notes."

  Now that the restaurant was clear of customers, the brawnier members of the Filandros family brought out trays laden with bottles of beer, wine spritzers and vodka coolers. On cue, the chief led a group of off-duty police officers into the establishment.

  17

  When Kate and Felix parted, it was past six o'clock. He had another appointment to make before the wake. She had to shower and change for the evening.

  There was time enough to go home, if she hurried. Her locker at headquarters was closer. Running a checklist of wardrobe options available in her locker, the ideal outfit jumped out.

  "Perfect!"

  Thinking she was complimenting their coffee, the barista called back, "Thank you. Have a nice evening."

  Festival lights twinkled throughout downtown. Less than a week ago, when the world was still a whole place, Kate met her father downtown for the annual lighting ceremony. It marked the official beginning of the winter holiday season. Shops and office windows competed for best dressed displays. The downtown board supplied unlimited quantities of hot chocolate and the food bank collected food and money from conscience-stricken consumers.

  Kate had been going as long as she could remember, first with her parents, then her father. Christmas was their holiday together, just as the secular holidays of Thanksgiving and Victoria Day weekends belonged to her mother.

  Less than a week ago, Kate and her father had been walking arm-in-arm, pausing at each window discussing the relative merits of the displays and casting their votes on the ballots handed out to shoppers. By the time they had walked the circuit, they were ready to duck into Tannhauser's for a late supper and a hot toddy, not necessarily in that order.

  Less than a week ago, the lights had been bright, the air fresh and cold. Tonight the lights blurred and the air and Kate's spirit seemed heavier. She wiped her cheeks, averted her eyes from Tannhauser's carved-wood sign and crossed the road to the steel and glass building that was her second home.

  The Justice and Emergency Services complex had been designed by an architect who tried to please too many masters. It had a neo-classic façade, complete with columns, but there was too much building to carry the theme throughout. The one thing that could be said about it was it had been around long enough to be well-landscaped. Spruce trees and topiary yews were dressed up in fairy lights and did a fair job of softening the angles of the building. Real holly and mistletoe were woven into the cedar garland draped over the main door, an annual gift from the Thorsen family, who preserved the old religion and believed holly brought security and mistletoe brought peace.

  "It couldn't hurt," Thorsen would say.

  "Peace," Kate said with a sigh of longing. That's what she needed to find.

  "And long life," replied the receptionist at the desk. He smiled slightly and made the Vulcan salute. "Good evening, Detective Garrett."

  "Good evening. Marching in the Santa Claus Parade this year?"

  "Oh, yes. Not in uniform, though. I'm going as the Vulcan ambassador."

  "Well then," she said, signing the glass plate that would register her time of arrival with the central security system, "live long and prosper."

  She was good at remembering the details which were important to people. Her father used to drill her on that kind of thing. Who had she met that day? What had she learned from them? What were their interests?

  Felix Proctor's interest was in women. He made no secret of it. Even though she had met him to ask questions, Felix flirted with Kate automatically. It wouldn't be too hard for him to get in trouble over a woman. Would he kill over one? Would Jane? Little as Kate wanted to think in that direction, she knew at a gut level Jane would kill to protect someone she loved. If her interest was Felix, she might kill for him.

  There were two banks of elevators. One led to Fire and Ambulance Administration and the joint training facility. The other led to the City PS and satellite offices of the OPP and RCMP. Between the banks was a corridor leading to the Regional Centre for Forensic Sciences. Kate summoned an elevator on what she thought of as her side. It required her retina pattern to be scanned before allowing her in the car. She asked for the City Squad Room and waited while her voice was compared to the print on record. When all systems were satisfied she was who she was supposed to be, she went back to considering who was interested in what.

  Why was Leon Eldridge interested in pointing the finger at Felix? It was five years since he left Touchstone. Surely he wasn't still holding a grudge? Eldridge was doing well on his own. It was like that Confucian proverb she had been told by David. If you are thrown into a pond and come up with pockets full of fish, have you really been harmed?

  Kate shook her head. That didn't sound quite right. Maybe it was Taoist, not Confucian. How much sleep had she had lately? And what was that buzzing?

  "Wake up, Garrett!"

  "Huh?"

  "The elevator wants to move on."

  Kate stepped off the elevator and blinked a couple of times. A tall, rather attractive man with silver shot black hair was leaning against the wall smiling at her. The smile was vaguely familiar. She looked at him blankly.

  "First time we met I was playing Fizbin. You fell asleep there, too."

  Kate shook off the fatigue. "I remember. You've had a shave and a haircut."

  "We got our man. Turns out someone you helped collar gave up a source who gave up the supplier I've been looking for, too."

  "I've been away for the last couple of days and I have had way too little sleep lately. What are you talking about?"

  The man smiled. It really was a nice smile, charming without being glib, a smile like her father's. He held his hand out to her. "Let's start again. I'm Ravensburg. I'm with Metro. I followed a lead and wound up working in your jurisdiction."

  "Have you talked to my partner?"

  "Mercy? Oh yeah, we're old friends. I'm waiting for her. She's invited me to a wake."

  "My father."

  "I know. I've had the pleasure of working with Joe Garrett in the past."

&
nbsp; Kate sighed and headed toward the squad room. "Sometimes I think there isn't a cop within a five hundred klick radius who hasn't worked with my father. I need more coffee."

  "You need orange juice," Ravensburg said, following her. "Do you think we might find some in your squad kitchenette?"

  Kate nodded and led the way. She glanced at her watch. Almost seven. Where had the time gone? She needed to get ready. On the other hand, it would be nice knowing Fania Michael's death was not entirely in vain, that the capture of her attackers would stop more deaths.

  A few days ago, this case was the focus of her every waking moment. She had volunteered for the search and rescue team when Fania was first reported missing. She and Mercy had been put on the case as investigators twenty-four hours later. Maybe thirty hours after that, they got their big break. Then, in a scant few hours, Kate's world changed. Now she felt a little guilty she had let the dead girl, and the other dead girls, slip out of her mind.

  "Kate! What are you doing here?"

  "Hi, Mercy. I met a friend of yours."

  Mercy's idea of dressing down for the evening was changing from black leathers and lace to black jeans and a t-shirt. It was a full cotton t-shirt, as Kate could attest, being pressed to the woman's chest in a warm hug. It didn't take much persuading to get Mercy sitting down with Kate and Ravensburg over orange juice and energy bars and soon Kate was back in the groove of her last case.

  "We did the usual divide and conquer routine with the rapists," Mercy explained. "We let them stew while forensics ran DNA. Twenty-four hours waiting for the boom to drop is a great way to soften up a suspect. Two of the three could be tied to the other murder-rapes. Number three wasn't in the system. He was our weak link. He testified against the others in exchange for the murder charge being dropped to manslaughter."