Murder Knows No Season

by Cathy Ace

‘You all stay here – I’m going up onto the street to see what’s happening.’ Dave’s voice was quiet and calm.

  ‘No, stay here with us, Dave,’ said Debbie, sharply. ‘I don’t want you getting hurt, Dave – I need you to be safe. Your family needs you.’

  Dave raised himself to his full height, and reached around his children, circling them with his arms. Then he reached forward and kissed Debbie – not a peck on the cheek, but a proper kiss, on the lips, the way they’d kissed when they were young and in love. And Debbie kissed him back.

  ‘Eew!’ said Zack.

  Becky cleared her throat and looked away, containing a giggle.

  ‘Stop “eew-ing” like that,’ said Dave to his son as he smiled at his wife, his heart alive with an emotion he hadn’t felt in years. Debbie looked so young, so fresh. Maybe it was the dirt on her face, maybe it was her tousled hair and glowing cheeks, Dave didn’t know why, but she looked much as she had done when she was a teenager – a pretty girl with dark hair, dark eyes, and a cute little button nose.

  ‘I’ve got to find out if it’s safe for us to go home,’ said Dave, sensibly, ‘so I’ll work my way up the side of the Wilsons’ house and see what I can see, right? No one will even know I’m there. Just you guys stay here, where you’re safe.’

  Dave carefully made his way up the steep bank that led to the street, hoping he would find something that would make him feel normality was returning, but the sight that met his eyes was anything but normal. Four police cars – all with their doors wide open – were standing abandoned close to their house at their end of the close. Their flashing lights illuminated a chaotic scene; flak-jacketed officers, their weapons held high, were darting about and, in the distance, Dave could hear more sirens wailing.

  As he ventured from the darkness at the side of the Wilsons’ house he could see what he thought were like two bodies on the ground. One officer was kicking something away from the body that lay on the sidewalk. Dave dared to creep closer.

  ‘Stop – show me your hands, then down on the ground,’ called a voice behind Dave.

  Dave’s arms shot up into the air, and he turned to face an officer who was pointing a weapon at him.

  ‘That’s my house,’ said Dave, ‘I was the one who called you – they were after me and my family.’

  The officer looked him up and down. Once he was certain Dave wasn’t a threat, the officer motioned for him to drop his arms.

  ‘Are we safe? Are they dead?’ asked Dave.

  ‘Is there anyone inside the house? Where’s your family?’ asked the officer.

  ‘We all got out. We hid under our neighbor’s deck. Can I fetch my wife and kids now? Is it safe?’ asked Dave.

  ‘Let me check that we’ve cleared the area,’ said the officer; he spoke into the radio attached to his body armor.

  ‘There’s an ambulance on the way – any of you guys hurt?’ he asked.

  ‘No, we’re fine,’ said Dave, ‘but I’d like to get my family safely out from under that deck – do you have a flashlight? Can you help?’

  Dave and the officer descended the bank of the gully, then helped Debbie, Zack and Becky up to the street. People were beginning to dare to open their front doors. As the Golightlys emerged onto the street, Steve Wilson, under whose deck they’d taken refuge, came out of his house.

  ‘Dave – is everything alright?’ he asked. His face showed he knew very well it wasn’t.

  ‘We’ve had a spot of trouble, Steve, but the Mounties seem to have it all under control.’

  ‘Was that gunfire I heard?’ asked Steve, who looked genuinely surprised by Dave’s presence, and the fact the entire Golightly family was emerging from his back yard.

  ‘Yeah; there were a couple of guys gunning for us, but the cops have taken them down. We’re going to be fine now – but we sure were grateful for your deck out there. I hope you don’t mind – we hid under it for a while.’ Dave was hugging his daughter to him as he spoke.

  ‘No worries,’ replied Steve, looking completely bewildered by what was going on in their quiet little street in the middle of the night. ‘But what do you mean there were some guys gunning for you – what’s going on, Dave?’

  Dave sighed. ‘It’s a long story, Steve, and we’re all too tired for it just now. I just want to get my kids home to get some clothes together, then I’m going to drive them all over to Debbie’s mom’s house to spend the night. I’ll come back and see to boarding up whatever needs boarding up – so the house will be secure, but maybe you could just keep an eye on things while I drive them up to Maple Ridge – I’ll only be gone about half an hour.’

  Steve Wilson agreed. ‘Sure – give me a shout when you’re ready to go,’ he replied, still looking confused.

  ‘What’s going on, Steve?’ It was Cherie Wilson, peering around her husband, whose large body almost filled the front door. ‘Debbie!’ she exclaimed, seeing her neighbor in the middle of the street. ‘What the hell’s going on? Are you guys okay?’ She sounded concerned, then she spotted Dave. ‘Oh, hello, Dave.’ Cherie Wilson’s voice took on an acid edge. ‘I guess this is all something to do with you, eh?’

  ‘None of this is Dave’s fault, Cherie, really it’s not,’ snapped Debbie. ‘All he wanted to do was give the kids some time on their own with their dad, enjoying all that nature has to offer. It wasn’t his fault that some moron had killed a guy and left his mutilated body for them to stumble upon up at Pitt Lake; it wasn’t his fault that the killers came back to the place where they’d left the corpse; or that they tracked us down to our home. This wasn’t down to Dave. His actions saved us all from God knows what tonight. I’m so proud of the way he looked after us all.’

  Zack and Becky beamed; Cherie Wilson looked taken aback. Dave was glowing with pride as Debbie smiled at him, with real warmth.

  ‘So would you all like to come inside our house and continue this “love fest” in warmth and safety, until you can get back into yours?’ asked Cherie, still sounding acerbic.

  ‘You guys go on in – I’m going to talk to the cops and find out what’s happening; I’ll see if they’ll let me grab some clothes for you all,’ said Dave. He kissed Debbie on the cheek, then she and the children made their way into the Wilson house.

  ‘You’ll be okay on your own, Dave?’ asked Steve Wilson.

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ replied Dave, and he made his way toward the end of the close. He was passed by an ambulance, which screeched to a halt almost at his front door. There, surrounded by glass and blood, was the body of the Boss.

  ‘Do you know who he is?’ Dave asked the officer he’d seen earlier.

  ‘Yep, we know him pretty well; one Cy Marchand, from Quebec originally. Moved here a couple of years ago and tried to get something going with the local Hells Angels, but they never took to him – too untrustworthy even for them, it seems. We’ve been looking at him for arms trafficking, but couldn’t come up with anything that would stick. He’s got two known associates – one of them is over there –’ the officer motioned to a body bag being hoisted into the ambulance – ‘and the other one is being taken into custody right now.’

  ‘If these guys were after us, should we be worried about anyone else taking up where they’ve left off?’ Dave asked, terrified about what the answer to his question might be.

  ‘Why do you think they were “after you”, sir?’ asked the officer, sounding confused, and curious. Dave briefly recounted the past couple of days. The officer nodded slowly as he listened.

  ‘You’ve had a heck of a weekend, sir,’ was his pithy comment.

  ‘You’re not kidding,’ replied Dave. ‘And I guess what I’m trying to work out is – is it over? Are these three guys the only ones we should be worried about, or are there more associates of this Marchand likely to crawl out from under a rock, somewhere?’

  Dave knew the future safety of his family depended upon the officer’s answer.

  ‘I think you’ll be okay. Marchand wasn’t known to mix with a
ny other groups. In fact, the locals will be glad to see him gone. I can’t imagine who the dead guy you’re referring to was, but if he turns out to be connected to some local outfit, then the story you’ve just told me, which clearly marks Marchand and his cronies as the murderers, will probably have you cast as the hero in all of this. There could be some very interesting people wanting to shake you by the hand. But I’d decline those offers, if I were you, sir.’

  Dave smiled wryly. He was beginning to feel as though – maybe – it really would all be over, very soon.

  ‘Any idea when I might be able to get into my house?’ Dave was beginning to feel a bit more settled – though he wondered why he’d referred to it as ‘his’ house; he’d been told – in no uncertain terms – to leave it by Debbie two years ago. Now all he did was pay the mortgage.

  ‘It’s gonna be a while yet. Is there anywhere you can stay?’

  ‘I thought I’d take my wife and children to my mother-in-law’s for the night; she’s just up in Maple Ridge. I could take them there, get them settled, and then come back. If you’re all going to be here, I don’t mind the house being open. But maybe I could just collect some clothes for them all?’

  The officer shook his head. ‘Can’t let you in at the moment, sir. I’ll tell my boss you’ll be away from the scene for a while. Do you need to get keys for your vehicle? I could go get them if you tell me where they are.’ Dave thanked the officer, who introduced himself as Corporal Carr, Ridge Meadows detachment. Then Dave met his boss, then his boss’s boss, and finally got the keys for the minivan, because he couldn’t recall where he’d put his pickup keys.

  Bundling Debbie and the kids into the van, he waved his thanks to the Wilsons and they drove off, leaving the flashing lights and the emergency vehicles behind them.

  He knew Debbie’s mom was expecting them, and he wasn’t expecting a warm welcome at her house, but Debbie said it would be okay – she’d explained everything to her, and how none of it was Dave’s fault.

  ‘So is it really over, Dad? Really, really over?’ asked Becky as they drove through the delightfully normal suburban streets, past quiet, darkened houses, and trucks parked on driveways beside pretty-by-moonlight gardens.

  ‘Yes, it’s over,’ said Dave, with conviction. ‘The Boss didn’t have any known associates but the two guys with him; one of them is dead, and the other is in custody. No one will ever come after us because of this weekend; no one will try to harm us because of it.’

  ‘So we won’t have to move house, or school, or change our names, or have plastic surgery?’ asked Becky, sounding almost disappointed.

  ‘No, we won’t have to do any of those things,’ said Dave.

  ‘Good, ’cos, I’m gonna move up to the top line next season,’ said Zack, as though hockey was all that mattered in his life, ‘and I’m not starting with another team all over again.’

  Debbie laughed out loud. ‘Darling, darling Zack – you and Becky are going to be just fine. We’ll have a couple of days with Gran while Dad gets the house fixed up, then we can all go home. Together. Right?’

  ‘You mean Dad too?’ asked Becky, her face happy.

  ‘Well, I think it would be a good idea if Dad stayed for a few days, just to be sure we’re all sleeping well, you know? If that’s okay with you guys?’

  ‘Sure is,’ said both children.

  ‘Just one thing, Mom,’ added Zack.

  ‘Yes?’ replied Debbie. Dave wondered what his son might say.

  ‘Do you think Gran will give us something to eat when we get to her house – I’m starving.’

  ‘No more wilderness trips for us for a while, eh?’ said Dave.

  ‘It was actually quite exhilarating,’ said Zack, surprising everyone in the minivan.

  ‘That’s a very grown-up thing for you to say,’ observed Becky.

  Zack grunted at his sister, realizing he’d crossed a line. ‘Yeah, well, I guess it wasn’t too boring,’ he muttered.

  ***

  AUTUMN

  THE FALL

  A DI Evan Glover Case

  Detective Inspector Evan Glover burrowed his fingers through his hair as the phone rang for what felt like the millionth time that day. His heart sank; the extension number display showed it was his boss’s boss, Detective Superintendent Lewis. Again. It wasn’t quite three o’clock on Monday afternoon and already Glover was feeling the strain of DCI Ted Jenkins being on holiday for a couple of weeks; all the DCIs and DIs had been told they’d need to pick up some of the slack while Jenkins was away. Glover was convinced he was the only one getting lumbered. He missed the usual buffer between himself and the superintendent.

  ‘Yes, sir, how can I help?’ was his measured reply; he was known for his ability to keep a cool head under pressure.

  ‘Glover, we’ve got a dead body,’ said his superior bluntly, ‘and I’m giving this one to you for a first look. Doc Souza just phoned it in from Three Cliffs Bay and I want you to get there pronto.’

  ‘Suspicious death?’ asked Evan, his spirits rising as he sensed a possible escape from his desk.

  ‘Man’s body found on the rocks about noon today. Surfers spotted it and phoned the coastguard. They called it in, and Souza took it herself. She called it in to me, requesting you.’ The super’s manner was odd; Evan suspected he was holding something back. And not something good.

  ‘Why me?’ asked Evan; no point beating about the bush.

  ‘You’ll understand when you get there,’ was the super’s terse and irritatingly cryptic reply.

  Evan weighed his next response carefully; known as an insightful detective, rather than a slave to procedure, he nevertheless recognized that the hierarchical structure within the West Glamorgan Police Service required he was polite to Lewis, despite his belief the man had long ago lost touch with what investigating officers faced on the ground on a daily basis.

  ‘So we don’t know yet, then, sir,’ was Glover’s somewhat sarcastic response. He knew Lewis would never pick up on his tone.

  ‘Early days, Glover. See Souza about that. I promised her I’d get you down there as soon as possible. Off you go now. Take Stanley.’

  Evan replaced the receiver, silently cursing at Lewis’s patronizing tone. However, he reckoned at least this new case might offer some respite from the spate of break-ins he’d been working on for the past week. To little effect.

  ‘Stanley,’ he shouted into the corridor, knowing that her bat-like hearing would kick in.

  As Evan sorted out his jacket, peppermints, communications devices and keys, Detective Sergeant Liz Stanley stuck her head into his office.

  ‘Sir?’

  Evan looked up and smiled. He liked Liz Stanley. She was a good, steady sort. He could never get over how young she looked; despite being in her thirties, her curly blonde hair and generally girlish looks meant she could have been taken for much younger. He also always had to stop himself from laughing at Stanley’s accent; her Bristolian burr made it sound as though the word ‘sir’ was spelled ‘srrrrrrr’. Evan had to admit he liked it; it was a pleasant rarity in Swansea.

  ‘Stanley, we’ve got to head out to Three Cliffs Bay; body found on the rocks there, and the super, in his wisdom, has given it to us for a look-see. Bring a car around, and I’ll meet you downstairs in five, alright?’

  ‘Right, sir,’ was Stanley’s reply as she shot out of Glover’s office.

  When they were finally on their way, Evan allowed himself to relax into the passenger seat.

  ‘Right-o, put your foot down, Stanley.’ He fiddled with the seatbelt as Stanley pulled away from the kerb outside the High Street entrance of the red-brick, early-Victorian structure that rather inadequately housed Swansea’s twenty-first-century police force. ‘Blues and twos for this trip – the super said we’re to get there “pronto”, so I think we can make some noise.’

  Stanley smiled. ‘You love this stuff, don’t you sir?’ she ventured.

  ‘Damn right, Stanley,’ was Glover’s sat
isfied response. ‘There are few perks to this job – but screaming through the traffic, lights flashing and sirens blaring, is one of them. Off you go.’ Evan beamed as they made their way noisily through the vehicles snarling Swansea’s busy, if now rather rundown, city center.

  His mind wandered as they wailed through the traffic; you couldn’t really talk when the sirens were blaring, nor make phone calls easily, but he knew he’d have to call Betty as soon as he could to warn her he might be home late.

  It was a relief to Evan when Stanley reverted to flashing lights only, once they had cleared the main roads and began to wind along the hedge-bounded country lanes characteristic of the Gower Peninsular – the picturesque area where Three Cliffs Bay was located. He had to admit it wasn’t a bad place to visit on what was a surprisingly warm, sunny day for the last week of September. They were due some good weather; he’d all but grown webbed feet during what had been the second wettest August in history.

  Evan prodded his password into his mobile phone; this might be his only chance to call home. He could picture the telephone ringing out in his neat little house.

  ‘Hello?’ A breathless voice; he’d obviously caught Betty busying herself with something.

  ‘It’s me, love,’ he announced, smiling.

  ‘Hello, cariad. Everything alright, is it?’ Betty’s voice always sounded worried when she asked him that question, which she invariably did.

  ‘Fine, ta, but I might be a bit late tonight. Stanley and I are on our way out to Three Cliffs; a body’s been found, and we’re off to check it out.’

  ‘Ah, that’s a shame, cariad . . . I mean the body, and you being late.’ Betty’s voice was comforting. ‘It’s that special veg soup tonight, so I’ll keep it hot, don’t worry.’

  Evan inwardly grimaced. He knew Betty was only feeding him the stuff for his own good; he needed to drop a few pounds before they went on their long-overdue holiday, but the soup was disgusting. He reasoned that a week from Saturday they’d be off to Scotland, where he’d be able to happily over-indulge. After all, who in their right mind wouldn’t when visiting a region where deep-fried haggis was served with chips, preferably followed by a deep-fried Mars bar, and where dozens of whiskies would be begging to be tasted.