‘Asked to leave? By whom and why?’
‘Well, sir, it really wasn’t any of our faults. An RCMP inspector came in and claimed he was taking over the case and, basically, told us to leave. Obviously, since it’s our jurisdiction, we refused. He didn’t like that and Dr. Pelow told us all to leave.’
‘’Well, it makes sense that the RCMP would be there. Mark was a Member of Parliament. Now that you mention it, I got a call this morning from a Chief Superintendent Barber that he was sending someone to the autopsy. But, I didn’t expect them to try and take over the entire investigation,’ said the Captain.
‘Right? And there was another member of the RCMP, a corporal, who was there when we showed up. Her department takes care of security for the Members of Parliament. And she had no idea who this inspector was.’
‘Okay, now that makes no sense. Why would the RCMP send two officers?’
‘No idea, sir. The corporal’s going to try and figure out who the inspector was. If she finds out anything, she’ll give Grant a call.’
‘When’s Dr. Pelow expecting to finish up the autopsy? I assume we’ll still be getting a report?’
‘Yes, sir. She’ll give me a call when she’s done and let me know if they find anything. She was just opening Mark up when we left. At that point, she hadn’t determined the cause of death,’ said Penner.
‘Good. Let me know as soon as you hear anything.’ The Captain glanced up at the clock on the wall. ‘I’m going to head down to the showers—see if it will wake me up a bit before Beverly gets here. Anything else?’
‘That’s all for now, sir,’ Penner said, getting out of her chair. ‘We’ll keep you informed.’
Back in the hallway, Grant asked, ‘So, what now?’
‘Well, the last place we know Mark was, for sure, was the high school where he was giving his presentation,’ Millar said. ‘We could always head over there and try to talk to the principal—or, even better, the teacher of the class he was talking to. Just confirm what time he left, and if anything unusual happened.’
‘Schools are all closed today,’ Grant said. ‘Heard on the radio that they closed down because of the storm that’s supposed to hit.’
‘I don’t remember schools closing when I was a kid. We’re in Canada—we get snow,’ Millar said.
‘You sound like my dad. When I was a boy, I had to trudge ten miles through eight feet of snow to get my education. I think it happens to all men when they reach a certain age,’ Penner said.
‘Very funny. I guess we’ll try the school tomorrow, if it’s open. If you hear from Faye or that RCMP corporal, let me know. I’m going to try to get my report on the Beckett case done.’ Millar started walking back to his office.
‘You haven’t finished that yet? We closed that three weeks ago,’ said Penner.
‘Then I’m ahead of schedule. It usually takes me a month to get them done,’ he called back over his shoulder.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
‘You get your hair done?’ Grant asked Penner the next morning at Joe’s. The day before, Grant had waited around at the precinct until almost six o’clock, but he hadn’t heard from Kulcheski. When he realized that Millar was still nowhere near done his report, he caught a ride to Joe’s Diner with one of the patrol officers. His car had been in the parking lot all day and was covered in about six inches of snow. As he was brushing it off, he got a text from Millar. Joe’s tomorrow morning at 7? ‘Hardly seems worth going home,’ Grant had thought to himself.
‘I did,’ Penner replied, twirling a cherry red lock of hair around her finger. ‘All my paperwork was up to date, so I decided to take the afternoon off. Went by my hairdresser’s—figured it was time for a touch-up. Luckily, they had a couple cancellations because of the storm, so they were able to fit me in. Speaking of paperwork,’ she turned to Millar. ‘Did you get that report done?’
‘Yup. Took me a while, but I dropped it off with the Captain around six-thirty. Beverly was in his office, so I didn’t get his normal lecture about the importance of finishing my reports in a more timely manner,’ Millar said, taking a sip of coffee.
‘You’d think you’d have learnt by now. Get the reports done as soon as you finish a case, and you stay on his good side,’ said Penner. ‘It’s really not that difficult.’
‘But reports are so dreadfully boring to write. I didn’t become a cop to write reports.’
‘Yeah, when you’re a kid and you see cops in movies, you never see them sitting around for hours, writing reports. It looks so exciting all the time. False advertising if you ask me,’ Grant said. ‘I was shocked my first year with just how much time I spent sitting in my car, waiting for a call. I had some long, boring nights.’
‘Did you hear anything from Faye?’ Millar asked.
‘Not yet. I assume she’ll get in touch today. Oh, thanks, Joe,’ Penner said as Joe dropped off their breakfasts.
After a few minutes of eating in silence, Penner said, ‘When I got home last night, I was thinking about where Mark was found. Based on what you guys said, the only open water he could have fallen into was down by the old paper plant, right?’
‘Yeah. There may be open water further east, but the water around the shack flows from the west, after it goes through the dam. So, he would have had to go in around the plant,’ Grant said.
‘According to Chris, Mark’s assistant, the only thing on Mark’s schedule was the speaking engagement at the school. After that, he was supposed to head back to the office to grab his suit. We know he was on foot—he always walked. The dam is at least a fifteen minute walk from the school. And even further from his office.’
‘So?’ said Millar, biting a sausage.
‘If he didn’t have a meeting, or something to go to, why was he so far from his office?’
‘He was a bit of a health nut. Maybe he just went for an extended walk.’
‘But it was such a miserable day with the wind, snow and ice pellets. Most people wouldn’t go for a leisurely stroll in that if they didn’t have to,’ Penner countered.
‘Most people wouldn’t, but there are people who would. You see people out running down by the canal year-round, no matter what the weather. If you’re dressed for the weather, it isn’t too bad,’ Grant said. ‘I wouldn’t do it, but I know some people who would.’
‘I guess,’ Penner said. ‘Just seems strange to me, is all. Do we know if he had his cell phone with him?’
‘I have no idea. We didn’t get to ask Faye too many questions when we were there. You should ask her when she calls you,’ Millar said.
‘If he did, and it was in the water for any length of time, think FIS can get any information off it?’ Grant asked.
‘Possibly,’ said Millar. ‘Depends on the phone, how long it was in the water for—bunch of factors. Worth checking, though. He may have had a meeting or something that his assistant didn’t know about.’
‘Excuse me, Detectives. Sergeant.’
Grant looked up from his plate. ‘Corporal Kulcheski. What are you doing here?’
‘I had a feeling you might be here. I know this place is pretty popular with you guys,’ Kulcheski said. ‘Nice little diner.’
‘We like it,’ Millar said. ‘Were you able to find out who that inspector was?’
‘I was,’ Kulcheski said. ‘Do you mind?’ she asked, pointing to the empty chair next to Grant.
‘No, not at all,’ Grant said, pulling out the chair as best he could with one arm.
‘Thanks. So, when I got back to HQ, I went and saw my supervisor. He was pissed that I was told to leave the autopsy. I explained what happened. He had never heard of an Inspector Gord Wilson, so he obviously doesn’t work with our division. My supervisor called his boss and a few other people, asking if anyone had heard of him, and no one had. So, I went onto our personnel database and I was finally able to find him.’
‘And?’ Penner asked.
‘He works with the fraud division.’
‘Fraud? What
would a fraud investigator want with Mark?’ Millar asked, looking at Penner.
‘I have no idea. He was the Minister of International Trade, wasn’t he? Or whatever the department name is these days. Maybe he came across some shifty import/export business, or something, and reported it to the fraud department.’
‘Could be. We should interview his assistant—see if he knows anything,’ said Millar. ‘I guess there’s no way you can find out what he’s investigating, eh?’ he asked Kulcheski.
‘I’ll try, but I have my doubts,’ she said. ‘I’ll see if I can find someone who knows him or works with him. They might be able to tell us what he was working on. And I’m sure my boss will probably be willing to help, too, since he didn’t think I should have been kicked out of the autopsy. He doesn’t like people telling him, or his staff, what to do.’
‘Sounds like you,’ Penner said to Millar. ‘Just a sec,’ she said, picking up her vibrating phone from the table. ‘Penner.’
‘Hi, Sue. It’s Faye.’
‘Hey, Faye. How’s it going?’
‘Not too bad. Took me a while to finish up the autopsy yesterday. That RCMP guy had the audacity to come back again in the afternoon, asking if I was done my report yet. Had to kick him out of the building. Threatened to call the police on him, which didn’t phase him too much.’
‘You’re kidding.’
‘Nope. Seems like his report may take a couple extra days to get in the mail.’
‘Nice. So, did you find anything?’
‘Not much. Toxicology report came back clean—so, no alcohol, no drugs. And I can rule out a heart attack.’
‘So, did he drown?’
‘Surprisingly, no.’
‘No?’
‘His lungs didn’t have any water in them, so he was dead before he hit the water. As of right now, I can’t give a definitive cause of death. I would put his time of death anywhere from noon to six PM, but where he was in the cold water, it’s very hard to narrow down an exact time.’
‘So, what now?’
‘I’m going to run some more tests on his blood and tissues. The preliminary tests we ran just looked for the most common causes of death. Now we’ll look for some more unusual causes.’
‘Alright, thanks for letting me know. Keep me informed.’
‘Ask if she found a phone on him,’ Millar said.
‘Hey, did you happen to find a cell phone?’
‘No, he only had a wallet and set of keys in his pockets—no phone.’
‘Huh. Okay, thanks. Talk to you soon.’
‘Take care.’ She hung up the phone.
‘He didn’t drown and no phone,’ Penner said.
‘Gathered that. Does she have any ideas what happened?’ Millar asked.
‘Not yet, but I’m sure she’ll find something. That inspector showed up again after we all left.’
‘Really? Persistent.’
‘Didn’t do him any good, Faye kicked him out again. I think it might be a while before he actually sees that report.’
‘Nice that she dislikes someone worse than me,’ Millar said.
‘Not sure I would go that far.’
‘Thoughts on what we should do now?’ Grant asked.
‘I’ll let the Captain know that the preliminary autopsy hasn’t turned up anything—except that Mark didn’t drown,’ Penner said. ‘I still think we should try and find his phone, so maybe the Captain can get in touch with Beverly to see if she’s found it. I assume he usually had one with him, since Bev was trying his number all night.’
‘I’ll go interview his assistant. Maybe he knows why the RCMP fraud division is so interested in Mark’s death. You should get the Captain to ask Beverly if she knows if anything was taken from their home office,’ said Millar.
‘Will do,’ said Penner. ‘Why don’t you go to the school where Mark had his presentation. Find out what time he left the school and if he mentioned anything unusual to anyone,’ she said to Grant.
‘Can do,’ Grant said, pulling out his notebook and writing down the school address.
‘If there’s nothing you want me to do, I’ll start digging into Inspector Wilson. See what I can find out about him,’ Kulcheski said.
‘Alright. Let’s keep in touch. If you find anything, let the others know. Kulcheski, I’ll grab your cell number,’ Millar said, slipping a sideways glance in Grant’s direction.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
It took Millar some time to find a parking spot anywhere close to Mark’s office building. With all the snow over the last few days, most of the streets were under a parking ban so that the city plows could get in to clean up. He managed to park two blocks away on one of the narrow side streets. He had to clamber over a mound of snow to get onto the sidewalk. Nothing had been cleared yet, and he had a hard time keeping his balance while trying to step in the previous person’s footprints.
He turned the corner between two office buildings and was hit in the face by a blast of cold, icy wind. With the way the buildings were situated in the downtown core, the streets acted like wind tunnels, amplifying the intensity of each gust. He hunched up his shoulders and tried to bury his chin into the collar of his coat.
Periodically, he’d lift his head up to check the numbers on the building facades, and every time an icy chill blew straight down his collar. He finally reached 132 O’Connor and gratefully stepped into the lobby, appreciative of the warm rush of air that welcomed him.
He surveyed the lobby and was surprised by the number of people rushing around—some in their full winter gear and others in office attire. He could smell the coffee brewing in a small café to his right. He thought about getting a hot chocolate to warm up, but then saw the size of the line-up. As nice as it would be, it wasn’t worth the time standing in line, while the single barista made up all the low fat, mocha lattes, or whatever the office types were drinking. Judging by the amount of whipped cream being used, he was pretty sure it wasn’t just good ol’ black coffee.
He made his way to the security desk, nearly tripping over some children running around with their skates hanging over their shoulders. He waited for the guard to look up from his paperwork.
‘Can I help you?’
‘Detective Millar, Ottawa Police,’ Millar said, showing his badge. ‘I’m here to see Mark Williams’ assistant.’
The guard looked up, shifting his eyes between the badge and Millar. ‘Pretty shocking to hear about Mr. Williams. Can’t believe he drowned. Crazy.’
Millar didn’t say anything and tried to keep the surprise from his face. He wondered how the guard knew Mark was found in the water, but he guessed news that big would travel fast.
‘I’m pretty sure Chris should be upstairs. I saw him earlier and I haven’t seen him leave—not that I notice everyone who comes and goes, of course—but, he should be on the fourteenth floor.’
‘Thanks,’ Millar said. ‘Do I need to sign in?’
‘Only after hours.’
‘Great. Thanks again.’ He walked over to the elevator bay and took his place amongst the dozen or so people waiting and scanning each elevator to see which would arrive first. A bell sounded and elevator number two’s doors opened. As in most busy buildings, there was a bit of confusion as people started getting in before everyone was able to get out. Millar waited until everyone was in and then looked inside. He decided to wait for the next one. A few years ago, he had been stuck in an elevator for two hours after it got stuck between floors. He had been surprised at how hot and stuffy the air became after being closed up for just a short amount of time. After that, he had decided he wouldn’t get into an elevator with more than three other people, four at most. If he ever got stuck again, he wanted to make sure there was enough room to be able to sit down and stretch out.
After a few minutes, a second elevator arrived and he got in with two women, both going to the eighth floor. He stood in the back and listened to their conversation about one of their co-workers. Apparently, they didn’t
think he deserved the promotion he had just received. At the eighth floor, they got out and were replaced by three more people, each going to different floors.
When the doors finally opened on the fourteenth floor, he was happy to get out. The last person to join him on his ride had been wearing an overpoweringly obnoxious perfume. He wandered down the hallway until he finally came across the right office. He knocked on the closed door and stepped inside without waiting for a response.
‘Can I help you?’ asked a male’s voice. Millar saw a young man putting files and books into cardboard storage boxes.
‘Yeah, I’m looking for Mark Williams’ assistant. Chris?’
‘That’s me,’ Chris said, standing up straight and stretching out his back as he did. ‘And you are?’
‘Detective Millar. Just wanted to ask you some questions about Mark, if I could.’
‘Sure. Yeah, I have time. If you want, we can go into the back room. The chairs in there are more comfortable.’ Chris pointed Millar in the direction to go. They walked into a room with a leather couch and two large leather recliners. ‘Can I get you a coffee or anything? I just put on a pot.’
‘Coffee would be great. Just black, please.’
‘So, what would you like to know?’ Chris asked as he grabbed a mug out of one of the cupboards along the back wall of the room. ‘Still can’t believe he’s dead.’
‘You’re already packing up his things?’ Millar asked. ‘Thanks,’ he added, taking the cup from Chris and putting it down on a small side table while trying not to burn his fingers.
‘Beverly, his wife, called this morning and asked me to start putting things in boxes. I’m trying to separate it all into official government papers and what would be his personal belongings. I think it could take a while.’
‘Did Mark have a cell phone?’
‘Of course. It was like it was attached to his arm. He was always on the thing.’
‘When Mark was found, he didn’t have the phone with him. Any chance he left it here?’
The Art of Murder Page 8