Deadly Legacy (A Carmedy & Garrett Mystery)

by Bruce, Alison

  "Then we'll wear black."

  Kate shook her head. "You'll wear black."

  An hour later, Magnus was dressed in a black suit, black shirt, black tie, black walking shoes and Kelly green socks. He showed them off to Kate, who had just emerged from the bathroom.

  "Too much?"

  "Nice touch. My father would approve."

  "You better get dressed. I promised your mother I would get you to the church on time."

  Kate groaned and tried to swat him. He was too agile or she was too tired.

  Twenty minutes later, Kate joined Magnus. She was in her dress blues.

  22

  Jake Carmedy watched the sun rise. He wondered which poet had written "Oh the heartless sun that rises every morning as if nothing has changed. Nothing ever changes..." It was a snippet of a piece he had to recite in school. He couldn't remember the rest.

  Hadn't the sun been shining on September 11, 2001? He had just joined the army a couple of months earlier, hoping to see the world on peace keeping missions. Then the world changed.

  Perhaps the sun isn't so cruel. It reminds us we have a fresh day in which to do better than we managed the day before. So poetic and no comfort whatsoever.

  A half hour later, he was showered, shaved and dressed. His plan was to walk to the greasy spoon a couple of blocks away. When he got there, he passed it by. The smell of bacon and fried potatoes turned his stomach. The smell of coffee from the café in the next block did the same. When he reached the coffee shop at the intersection of the main road leading downtown, he decided he better overcome his queasiness and have something to eat, or he'd end up being overly dramatic and passing out at the funeral.

  Despite the green tax charged to offset carbon emissions, there was a long line at the drive-through. Inside was also busy. There were groups of utility workers and couriers. While others were hurrying off to their workplaces, they took the opportunity to socialize before going about their solitary tasks. Most were bunched down at one end, leaving the rest of the restaurant for the few white collar types that weren't taking their breakfast to go. Sales people mostly, by the look of their brief cases, they sat alone or in pairs, drinking their coffee and reading the paper.

  Just as if the world were normal.

  Though there were a couple of empty tables, Carmedy took his coffee and bagel to a corner seat and sat down across from a furtive looking fellow, hunched down and hugging a paper cup.

  "Hey, Ike. Long time, no see."

  Ike hunched down even further. "Hi, Mr. Jake. Awful thing about Mr. Garrett."

  Jake nodded.

  "Are you going to the funeral?"

  Ike shook his head emphatically.

  "I'm sure you'd be welcome." Jake tried to sound encouraging, though Ike wasn't his favourite person.

  "I can't. I just can't. But they'll be burying him right across the road later," he added, nodding toward the intersection. "I'll be there."

  Two corners had wholesale outlets. The coffee shop and fuel station was on a third corner. The fourth looked like the perimeter of an estate. There was a wrought iron fence with evergreen hedges and centuries' old trees hemming in what seemed to be a park. There was even what looked to be a stately home in the distance, except it had a tall, industrial-looking chimney.

  Jake nodded.

  Ike inched a little straighter in his chair. "You're looking fine Mr. Jake, if I may say so." He gave Jake an ingratiating smile. "I think Mr. Garrett would be pleased."

  Jake looked down at his dress greens.

  Joe would have laughed.

  23

  Magnus presented Kate to her mother in good time. They went over the last minute details with Father Augustus and Ms. Greer Forestell. Then Kate walked her mother over to where David was chatting with Magnus, Maggie Thorsen and the kids, before going to join the other men and women in uniform.

  Xavier managed to greet her first. He gave her a quick and entirely unexpected hug. The chief, who was much more inclined toward giving hugs, managed a magisterial bow of the head, possibly because his dress uniform was too snug to allow much movement. Then, a near stranger offered her his hand.

  "This is going to be a day to remember. It looks like half the city is here to pay their respects to your father."

  Kate took the hand and found the grasp warm and firm. Her gaze travelled up from the hand, taking in the dark olive dress uniform of the Canadian Army, the profusion of ribbons on his chest, up to his deep blue eyes, which seemed to radiate calm. In contrast, she felt a bit flustered.

  "Thank you, Lieutenant Carmedy."

  "You look at me as if you never saw a man in uniform." His eyes crinkled up with amusement. "And I know that's not the case."

  "First time for you. I almost didn't recognize you. Don't know why. I've always thought you belonged in a uniform…That wasn't a fashion jibe," she added, after her internal editor had a chance to react to her remark.

  "I didn't take it as such. You look at home in a uniform, as well."

  Kate had no idea how to react to the comment, so it was as well that Ms. Greer was summoning them into the chapel.

  Tradition, built up over the years, demanded a ceremonial procession of the City Police be led by a piper, backed up by a taiko drummer and a hurdy-gurdy. The bagpipes dated from the time when most of the city's citizens were descended from the original Scottish settlers. The drums were added most recently, about a dozen years ago when an officer died saving the daughter of the local head of a Japanese-owned corporation. No one remembers how or why the hurdy-gurdy was added, although her father had a few colourful theories. The important thing was that the three musicians play the processional for the Colour Guard, whether the ceremony was a funeral, wedding or civic function.

  Her mother and the other civilians were already seated. The Colour Guard were in position. Kate took her place behind them. Carmedy stepped in beside her. Behind them were the four other officers who would serve as pall bearers during the recessional—the chief, Vincent, Mercy and OPP Officer Rose Campbell, the daughter of her father's first partner.

  Kate gave Rose a smile and mouthed the question—"Your dad here?"

  Rose nodded and pointed toward the chapel. With hand signals, she told Kate she had taken her father early and he was now in one of the wheelchair spots. A heavy hand rested on Kate's shoulder.

  "Ready?" asked the chief.

  "Yes, sir."

  The chief looked around and immediately the procession lined up crisply. Inside the chapel, the drones of the pipes and hurdy-gurdy started, solemn and almost other-worldly. It was a sound that never failed to send chills down Kate's spine. In deference to Joe Garrett's roots and his dislike of the customary "Amazing Grace," a traditional Irish lament was played.

  The beat of the drums set the pace as they slowly marched down the aisle. Left, right, pause. Left, right, pause. Thump, thump, boom. With the practised skill common to soldiers and police officers on parade, Kate took in much of the congregation without moving her head.

  There really were a lot of people. Kate didn't recognize all the faces she saw. She doubted her father would recognize them all. Although Joe Garrett had retired over a decade ago, he was still a cop in the eyes of his community. If there had ever been any doubt, the turnout today dispelled it.

  The lament was perfectly suited to the length of the chapel and ended, on cue, when the Colour Guard and pall bearers reached their destination. The procession halted. The Colour Party took up their positions, while the pall bearers neatly shuffled into single file to pay respects to the deceased.

  Kate hung back slightly and let Carmedy go first. He didn't avert his eyes from the coffin. He paused a moment, then, with military precision, he snapped a salute to his former boss and moved on.

  Kate closed her eyes. This was not her father and she couldn't bring herself to gaze upon, let alone touch or kiss the remains. A salute from her seemed wrong.

  "Just move on," the chief whispered behind her. "This i
sn't my bag of beans, either."

  Silently ordering her spine to snap to attention, Kate managed walking by without falling apart. With a nudge from the chief, she found herself sandwiched between him and Carmedy in the front pew.

  Carmedy wasn't a great wall like Thorsen, but he was intimidating enough, especially in uniform. Kate found that oddly comforting. The policewoman scoffed. The girl who had just lost her father was happy to feel protected.

  Delano Gage's funeral will be next, she thought, as Father Augustus recited the opening prayers. Gage's body had been released to the family yesterday afternoon. It had given up all the information it was going to. All that was left was the puzzle.

  Her father repeatedly told her to remember two things about every crime. Each one was a puzzle to be solved. It might take a long time to work it out, but the solution was there somewhere. Second, every crime has at least one victim. The myth of a victimless crime is something criminals cling to in order to justify their actions. Someone always gets hurt.

  He said, "When you're considering the puzzle, set aside your feelings for the victim. When you're considering the victims, focus on them, not the puzzle. Don't try to work in two modes at the same time."

  Kate had thrown herself into the puzzle-solving mode to avoid considering her own feelings. She wanted there to be a crime so she could blame someone for her father's death. In the back of her mind, she knew it was a displacement activity. It was a way of avoiding dealing with her grief. She knew it. Her stepfather, David and the chief certainly knew it. And she knew they knew she knew it. Yet, it turned out there was a puzzle.

  Leon Eldridge wasn't just a paranoid pain in the ass. Two people associated with Eldridge had died. Both deaths were drug-related, two prescription-drug-related murders in one week. No, three. Kate had almost forgotten Fania Michaels.

  Father Augustus announced the first hymn and Kate's attention snapped back to the here-and-now as she was required to stand.

  "God created earth and heaven. God commanded light to be..."

  Kate leaned forward so she cleared Carmedy's shoulders and snuck a peek at her mother. With that ability mothers possess, Emma Kessler looked over at her daughter at the same moment. They traded smiles.

  Although Kate had never taken to church (she went to Sunday school for four weeks, then begged her parents not to make her go again), she did like the music. Her father taught her his favourites from his choir days. This was a favourite she shared—Ode to Joy.

  Now there was something that probably wouldn't be mentioned in the eulogy. Her father always said he stopped going to church when they messed around with words of the hymns. Kate suspected there was more to it than that. All she knew was shortly after her christening, Joe Garrett quit the church. Kate had been sent to Sunday school more as a break for her mother than anything else. If it had been left up to her mother, Kate might not have been allowed to quit. Her father made a deal, however. He promised to take Kate out every Sunday morning, no matter what, and he stuck by that promise until he left the house. He showed up the next Sunday. Kate was too angry to go with him and the custom ended.

  Kate choked on the words of the hymn and told herself to stop multitasking while singing. Focus. That wound had been healed and new traditions had taken the place of those lost.

  After the lesson, which was the standard flesh is temporary, but the spirit is immortal speech, the chief stepped up to give the eulogy. Kate gave a shiver as his warmth was replaced by a cold draught. Mercy sidled over and gave Kate's hand a quick squeeze.

  The chief ignored the pulpit and refused the microphone. He stood before the congregation, hands behind his back, in the same way he would address a briefing.

  "A few years ago, Joe was presented with the Mayor's Citizenship Award. It was a big ceremony with the Mayor in full regalia and lots of media coverage. A rookie reporter was trying to keep up and turned to the CBC correspondent and asked, 'Who's up there now?' The veteran reporter replied, 'I don't know who the guy in the cape and chain is, but the man receiving the award is Joe Garrett.'"

  There was a mixture of polite laughter, genuine chuckles and a few groans.

  "It seemed like everyone knew Joe. Certainly, everyone who knew Joe respected him. He was a cop from a long line of cops..."

  Her father was a fourth generation cop and both his father and great-grandfather had died in the line of duty. The chief introduced the congregation to cousins Kate barely knew. One, a member of the Sûreté du Québec, came from Montreal to represent his branch of the family. The Garretts first settled in Montreal after leaving Ireland, so this wasn't a shock. Kate had no idea she had a cousin in Toronto, let alone that she was with the Metro PS. The one from Vancouver she knew a bit better, since he was a first cousin. Another cop.

  Then the chief introduced Ross Campbell and Rose, and mentioned the long association of Campbells and Garretts, going back before Constable Campbell trained Rookie Joe Garrett.

  "I was Joe's first rookie," said the chief, "but not his last..."

  Most of the rest was familiar territory. The remainder of the eulogy was a rewording of things said the night before, edited for sense and length and spiced up with a few more quips. There was one unexpected addition which pulled Kate's mind back from its wanderings.

  "Everyone knew Joe. He was a legend in his own time and he enjoyed that role. As a legend, his boots seem too big to fill. As his best friend, I can tell you those boots sometimes got a bit too big for Joe himself. He had a reputation for being unfailingly cheerful and courteous, yet he suffered from terrible bouts of depression and he was not nearly as kind to himself as he was to others."

  Kate thought about this. She knew her father suffered a great deal of physical pain from his wound. In retrospect, she could even see how he must have been depressed. Bouts of depression? That sounded like something more chronic.

  She looked up at Carmedy and wondered if he was surprised, too. He glanced at her with a slightly puzzled frown. She shrugged and turned her attention back to the chief.

  "When the line was drawn in the sand, Joe always stepped up to it. That spirit is his true legacy—not material wealth or even the friends he left behind. That is what we should carry on for his sake."

  The rest of the service passed in a blur. Although Kate only attended church services for official functions, the blessing of the Host and giving of the Eucharist rolled over her with easy familiarity. Strictly speaking, she shouldn't take the Eucharist since she hadn't been confirmed, but somehow she found herself up there, accepting the Host. A firm hand at her elbow guided her and it wasn't until she was back in her seat that she noticed it belonged to Carmedy.

  24

  Jake wasn't sure he was doing the right thing. Thorsen had given him such an odd look when he helped Kate up. Jake wasn't Catholic, so he wasn't positive about the protocols. It seemed to him that the daughter of the deceased should go through all the rituals. Having made the decision for her, it behoved him to stick by her, especially since she seemed to be moving in a dream state. It wasn't until she was seated again that she woke up to what was going on. She looked up at him as though recognizing him for the first time.

  For an instant, Jake felt compelled to say he was sorry, not for Joe's death, or her loss, but for whatever slight he had given her years ago when they first met. The trouble was, if she asked, he wouldn't know what he was apologising for.

  Then the moment passed. Without a word, he took his place beside her.

  He really didn't have a clue what had happened that day, almost ten years ago. Joe had hired him on a contract basis. Things were working out. Joe made it clear that as soon as the business could handle it, he'd put Jake on salary.

  The existence of Kate Garrett was known to him, along with the knowledge there was an ex-wife who had a new husband, and a brother in Vancouver who joined the Coast Guard. He hadn't met any of them in that first year with Garrett Investigations.

  Joe didn't keep any personal photos in the
office. There were a couple of black and white school portraits of his daughter in his flat. The most recent was of Kate, aged eight. Not much to go on. Extrapolating from that image and factoring known genetic elements, like Joe's build and colouring, Jake pictured a tall, leggy brunette. Joe said she was beautiful. He factored in a father's bias. She might be gorgeous or plain, but Jake bet she would be striking.

  One day a pleasant looking woman entered the office. She wasn't particularly tall, or short, or slender, or shapely. Conservatively dressed in jeans, t-shirt and a blazer, she was attractive in a non-threatening way. Jake placed her between twenty-four and thirty years of age.

  Two things made her remarkable. She had a pixie-like, heart-shaped face set with striking blue-green eyes that were giving him the once over. Framing this face was a mane of truly gorgeous chestnut curls that fell halfway down her back. Thinking back to that meeting, Jake sighed for the loss of the mane.

  He remembered flirting with her, probably clumsily. She seemed more amused than offended, though thinking back to some of the lures he had let fly back then, Jake cringed at what he might have said. Although she made it clear she was there to meet Joe, she let him try to convince her he would do just as well, if not better for some purposes.

  Yes, he really said something that trite. Joe walked in just in time to hear it. She greeted him with a big hug and a kiss and chided him for keeping her waiting. They were going out for lunch. Joe doubled back and quietly let Jake know he had been chatting up his teenage daughter.

  Jake was glad to be left alone to get over his embarrassment. The next time he met Kate Garrett, it was at the annual Gage Summer Barbecue. She was introduced to him as Miss Kate, Joe's daughter, and he treated her like Miss Kate, Joe's daughter. He even apologised for any unintended discomfort he might have caused her. All he got in return was a cold shoulder and she put him on ice from then on.