"Still, that's a far stretch. Where did the money go then?"
"Good question," Ava agreed. "According to Mitchell, Sharon was a computer hacker. Did they even have hackers back then? Anyway, he claims she had access to the money and knew how to hide it. Apparently, in his world, you don't need actual facts. Just enough to pick and choose to fit the narrative that works best."
It took them over two hours to reach Frank Mitchell's house. She didn't expect to find the former Toronto cop living in a small town. It was definitely a change of pace, and maybe that's what he was looking for in his retirement. Somehow, Mitchell didn't strike her as the outdoorsy type.
Curious, she examined the house before she got out of the car. Mitchell lived in a cottage-style back split bungalow that sat on several acres of land. It was surrounded by pine and cedar trees. The house had a wrap-around porch that overlooked the lake and a boathouse.
"Nice place," Nick said as he looked around. "Shall we?"
***
Mitchell watched the red Jeep pull up in front of his house and waited for his visitors to get out. He was a tall, burly man with a round face, white beard and a balding head. He might have been retired, but his eyes were all cop.
"You must be Ava Reed," he said.
"And that would make you Frank Mitchell," Ava said with a smile. "This is my associate, Nick."
"Nice to meet you both. Call me Frank."
They followed him inside. The house was furnished comfortably with a newly renovated kitchen and a massive TV in the living area. There were family pictures scattered around the house on walls and on most available surfaces. Several art pieces decorated the walls, fitted neatly in between the family photos.
"The wife is out shopping, so we can take this outside on the porch. Enjoy the views and all that." Frank opened the fridge and took out a beer. "Can I get you anything?"
"We're good," Ava told him. "We don't want to take too much of your time."
"Suit yourself," Frank opened the beer, took a swig and motioned for them to follow him outside.
"How are you enjoying retirement?" Ava asked once they were seated outside.
"Retirement can get overrated. I miss being a cop sometimes," he said as he slumped into one of the patio chairs outside. "Chasing leads, catching the bad guys. The thrill of busting up drug rings and getting killers off the streets."
Ava and Nick exchanged amused glances. If he was more diligent about chasing leads when Sharon went missing, maybe he would have solved it sooner.
"That's why we're here, Frank," Ava said. "As I explained on the phone, Sharon Novak was my mother. I was hoping that maybe you had some insights you could share with me about her case."
"Sharon Novak," Mitchell said. "That takes me back some. Never thought they would find her dead."
He drank some more beer as he stared out at the lake. "You look a lot like her," he said, turning his attention to Ava.
"Yes, I've been told. Like I mentioned on the phone, I have a podcast about finding missing people," Ava said, looking him straight in the eye. "I want to do a series that focuses on my mother's case and the investigation."
"Not sure I can tell you anything that's not in the files," he said. His gaze went back to the water.
"Did you ever consider that she could be dead?" Ava asked. "When she first went missing, I mean?"
"Didn't seem like it. All signs pointed to her stealing the money and taking off. I figured she took off for a better life."
"But you never found the money trail?"
"She was that good. Skimmed money bit by bit over time, and nobody knew a thing until she went missing."
Ava had her own opinion but kept it to herself for now.
"There is nothing in these reports about the money," she said. "No traces on accounts, nothing on Adam Walker filing a report about the missing money. Who reported it gone."
"Walker never filed an official report," Frank said. "You know how it is with rich people. They don't want the scandal or can't admit that someone on staff embezzled from them. Since the money was discovered after she went missing, we didn't file charges."
"But someone must have noticed it gone in the first place?"
Frank drank his beer. When he realized the bottle was empty, he grabbed another from the cooler beside him and opened it. He chugged it like it was water.
"I think someone found discrepancies in the accounts after Sharon disappeared," he tried to remember the name. "The bookkeeper, some woman. I can't remember her name."
"Did you find anything when you searched her house? Office?"
"We searched her parents' house. Her place of residence. We checked the ex's house. I guess that's your father's place," he motioned to Ava, and she nodded. "Nada. We checked the borders, airports and train stations, but she had a few days on us. With that kind of money, she most likely got a fake ID, and we lost the trail."
"Was there anyone in her life at the time that could have killed her and took the money?" Ava asked.
"That is the question for the ages," Mitchell set down the now empty bottle and reached for another one. "There were plenty of guys hanging around her back then. She was a looker, your mother."
"Now that we know she's dead," Ava continued, ignoring the comment. "Any idea as to who might have killed her?"
"None," Frank said without giving it much thought. "I'm sorry to say this, but she likely went to a bad part of town, and someone decided she didn't belong. Pretty straightforward."
It was too easy of an answer, but it didn't seem like they would get much more out of Mitchell. They said their goodbyes and got back in the car.
***
Nick glanced in his rearview mirror as Frank Mitchell watched them drive away. He stood there, unsmiling, and when the red Jeep finally disappeared from view, he reached for his phone and made a call.
"What did you think of Mitchell?" Nick asked.
"I think my grandfather was right. He didn't really care as to what happened to Sharon," she said. "I'm surprised he agreed to meet with us in the first place."
"Why is that?"
"He wasn't very forthcoming when I spoke to him," she shrugged. "I think he took offence to having his investigation under scrutiny."
"I think he knows more than he's saying," Nick said. "He was watching us leave. If he didn't care about the case or didn't know something, he wouldn't have bothered."
Ava looked out the window at the passing scenery. She had a feeling Frank Mitchell knew a lot more than he was saying. The question was why.
"How much do you think that place is worth?" she asked.
"Depends," Nick thought about it. "I'd say in the one to two million dollars range?"
"Interesting isn't it." She mused. "How does a mid-level, average cop afford a house like that?"
"He could have sold his house in Toronto and took the profit to buy this one," Nick said as he turned into the road that led to the nearest small town. "We can check when he bought it and for how much. Meanwhile, why don't we grab some lunch? I'm starving."
They pulled into a parking lot of a cute restaurant they spotted off the road. It had a lovely patio filled with flowerpots and string lights. They chose a table in the shade facing the street. Ava opted for fish and chips while Nick went with a burger and fries. The service was fast, and the food smelled delicious.
"What's next?" Nick asked between bites.
"I want to talk to Burnett again," Ava said as she cut into her fish. "He might have some insights into Mitchell. Plus, we still have all those police reports to go through."
"Are you going to talk about Sharon's case at the meetup?"
"Probably not. I don't want to take away from the cases we feature this season. Sharon's case is still open, and there isn't much to add."
"Maybe not yet," he said as a black pickup truck tailed it out of the parking lot behind the building. They watched as it disappeared in the distance. "Someone's in a hurry."
They finished their meal, e
njoying a civil conversation. When he wasn't trying so hard, Nick wasn't totally annoying. She could see what her grandfather saw in him.
"All right," she said as she wiped her hands. "I'll pay up, and we should hit the road again."
"You're the boss," Nick said as he winked at her.
Ava paid the bill and went to meet Nick in the parking lot. Even from a short distance, she could see that something was wrong.
"What happened?" she asked.
"Looks like someone wanted to send us a message," Nick said and pointed at his slashed tire. "They also left a note."
She was going to say something about preserving the fingerprints when he reached into the car and produced a clear bag. The note was carefully placed inside it.
"'Stop looking and don't come back,'" she read. "What does that mean?"
"Looks like someone didn't like us going around and asking questions," Nick said as he scanned the parking lot. No security cameras or witnesses. "I'd say Frank definitely knows something he's not saying."
"Do you think it was someone in the black pickup truck?"
"Possibly," Nick said as he went to take the spare tire off the back of his Jeep. "I'd say it was a warning. If they were more serious, they would have slashed all our tires."
"Makes sense," she nodded. "Slashing a tire is more of an inconvenience. Slashing them all would force us to stay here and ask more questions. Whoever did this didn't want us sticking around."
It didn't take long to change the tire and mount the slashed one in the back. Since they didn't think the local cops could do much, they packed it up and headed back to Toronto. As they drove, Ava emailed Burnett pictures of the slashed tire and the note. She also included a brief update on their visit and asked to meet with the detective again.
The rest of the drive home was uneventful, but they both kept an eye out on anyone that might be following them or paying too much attention. Whoever wanted them gone meant business.
Chapter 6
Like so many homes in neighbourhoods across Toronto, the Laskaris and Novak properties had small structures built behind their backyards facing the alley. While some homeowners converted theirs into laneway houses, others still used theirs for storage.
Nick and Stan stood side by side in the alley behind their properties. Neither one could pass as a functioning garage anymore, but they weren't in any usable shape either.
"The way I look at it," Nick said as he rubbed his chin, "we either tear down the whole thing, or we try to salvage what we can."
Stan tugged at the door on his side, trying to pry it open without success.
"I don't think we can do much with this one," he said. "I haven't had much use for a garage since I stopped driving."
"Let me try, Mr. Novak," he said.
"Oh, Nick," Stan moved out of his way. "I told you to call me Stan."
Nick grinned at him as he tugged at the door. After a few tries, it finally budged enough for him to open it. They both stared at the mess inside.
"When exactly did you stop driving, Stan?" he asked. "Last century?"
The garage was filled with what seemed like random household items, boxes and gardening tools. Everything was covered in dust and cobwebs.
"It's like a time capsule in here," Nick said in amazement.
"I honestly can't remember the last time I was in here," Stan said with surprise as he poked his head inside. "I doubt there is anything of value here. My wife used it for storage."
It would take a few sessions to sort through this. Nick suspected Stan would enjoy rummaging through it all.
"How about we see what's on the other side?" Nick suggested.
"Somehow, I don't see your parents as pack rats," Stan smiled. "But, at this rate, nothing will surprise me anymore."
They moved to Nick's parents' side of the garage. While it was also in a terrible shape, the door sported a newer lock. Without the need to tug at the door, Nick fished the key out of his pocket and unlocked it. It opened with ease. The two stared at the empty space.
"How about that?" Stan nudged Nick as he smiled. "Told you they weren't packrats."
Nick walked into the vacant space. It was larger than he remembered and offered more possibilities than he imagined.
"How about that," he said. "I should move my Jeep in here."
"I heard about what happened yesterday," Stan said. "Do you think someone might try to damage your car again?
"You never know," Nick said. "Digging in the past can bring up a lot of memories. Some people might not want that."
Stan nodded as if agreeing with him.
"I do worry about Ava sometimes," he said. "She has a way of digging for things that might make people nervous."
"What do you mean?" Nick asked. "Has anyone threatened her in the past over any of the cases?"
"I think occasionally she gets emails or messages from really nasty people," Stan said as he watched Nick lock up the door of his parent's garage. "She doesn't want me to worry, but I do overhear her sometimes when she talks with that producer of hers. I think they now screen a lot of her messages to weed out the crazies. Still, I worry about her."
They made their way back to the street. It was a nice day, so Stan invited Nick for a drink. They sat on the porch when Stan gestured at the house with his glass of wine.
"I'm actually thinking of selling the house," he said. "I'm getting too old to maintain it by myself."
"Have you told Ava?" Nick asked. He didn't think she would be happy about that decision.
"Not yet," Stan sighed. "I've always hoped that one day Sharon would come back, so I stayed here because I didn't want her to think that we moved away. It sounds foolish when I say it out loud."
"I don't think it's foolish," Nick said. "It's very thoughtful, actually."
"Now that I know she's not coming back, there is no reason to stay," he said. "Too many memories locked in here anyway. Don't say anything to her."
"Don't worry, I won't."
Ava found them still sitting on the porch when she got home from the gym. She was tired and sweaty and in need of a shower. But they looked so comfortable, so she decided to join them for a bit.
"Did you have a good workout, dear?" Stan asked.
"Sure did, Grandpa," she beamed at him. "What are you smirking at?" she said to Nick.
"Smirking?" he said, rolling his eyes. "I'm sorry, but I don't see yoga as that much of a workout."
"Don't knock it till you try it," she said, narrowing her eyes. "Yoga is a great way to work the muscles and does wonders for flexibility. But if you must know, today I had a kickboxing class."
"Well, look at you. What are you, Rocky, now?"
"You laugh now, "she said as she got up. "But you'll be crying when I kick your ass."
His laughter followed her all the way inside. Jerk, she thought.
***
Tyler arrived at the sleek offices of the NorFast Group a few minutes early. He finally managed to get a meeting with Elizabeth Northam, despite trying several times. Even though he had an appointment, he was forced to wait in the lobby. It was a large space decorated with gold accents and modern furniture. There were no sounds other than the receptionist occasionally answering the phone in hushed tones. For a large office, it was strangely quiet.
He rechecked his watch – he's been sitting in the lobby for over half an hour. He usually didn't let things get a rise out of him, but he recognized a power play when he saw one. Elizabeth Northam made sure that he knew who was in charge here.
Unfazed, he picked up the glass of water the receptionist offered him upon arrival. He took a sip and set it back down. He then pulled out his notebook from his jacket pocket and flipped through the notes one more time. His thoughts were interrupted by the receptionist, who then ushered him into Elizabeth's office.
She sat behind a massive desk and didn't get up when Tyler entered the office. She motioned for him to sit down in one of the chairs facing the desk. She wore a sleek, red power suit a
nd a look of annoyance. She folded her hands neatly in front of her and smiled politely.
"Detective Burnett," she said. "I'm sorry to keep you waiting."
Since she sounded anything but, Tyler returned the bland smile with one of his own as he sat down.
"Thank you for seeing me," he said. "I know you're busy, so I won't take up a lot of your time."
Elizabeth continued to smile politely, but the smile never reached her eyes. She nodded for him to continue as if she couldn't wait to get this meeting over with.
"Like I told your assistant," Tyler began. "I'm investigating the death of Sharon Novak. The woman whose remains were found at your construction site," he clarified when she didn't acknowledge the name.
"It was an unfortunate event," she said. "But I'm not sure what this has to do with me."
"The discovery of human remains gotta be bad for business."
"That is why we have things like insurance, Detective," she said. "It's a minor inconvenience."
"You don't think people might object to living where human remains were found?'
"Not to sound insensitive, but we're not talking about a cemetery here, "she pointed out. "We are talking about a prime downtown location in a vibrant and in-demand city. There is no shortage of people willing to overlook a minor inconvenience so they can own a piece of real estate in Toronto."
"Did you know the deceased?" he asked, switching gears.
One of Elizabeth's eyebrows shot up in question. She angled her head slightly without breaking eye contact.
"Should I?"
"Sharon Novak was employed by your brother, Adam Walker, at the time of her disappearance."
"Adam is my step-brother, Detective," she said smoothly. "I'm afraid that we're not very close. I don't get involved in his affairs, and he doesn't get involved in mine. You can't expect me to know every single person in his employ, especially over two decades ago."
"Surely you recognize the name? It was all over the news when she went missing," Tyler said as he watched her. "It was in the news again when her remains were found on your construction site."
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