‘I doubt it. I haven’t seen it. But hang on.’ Chris picked up the receiver of a phone on the back table. He dialed a number and listened. ‘I don’t hear it ringing. You?’
‘No,’ Millar said, turning his head slightly.
‘He always kept the ringer turned up—used to drive people crazy when he was in meetings. They always asked him to put it on vibrate or mute, but he wouldn’t. He didn’t want to miss an important call he would say. If the phone were here, we would have heard it.’
‘When was the last time you saw Mark?’ Millar asked. He tried another sip of coffee and almost burnt the roof of his mouth. He put the cup back down.
‘The other day. Monday. The day he went missing. Or died, I guess. It was mid-morning, ten-thirty or quarter-to-eleven, maybe. He was getting ready to go to one of the high schools to give a presentation.’
‘Anything out of the normal?’
‘No, not really. Typical day. Mark had a call at nine-thirty with someone from a trade commission in Mexico, then another call at ten with his counterpart in Colombia,’ Chris said.
‘Any idea what they were about?’
‘No idea.’
‘After the calls, what happened?’
‘When he was ready to go, he came out and asked me to pick up his suit and reminded me not to be late for the gala.’
‘Did you always go to events like that with him?’
‘I did. One of the best parts of the job, really.’
‘Where did you have to pick up his suit from?’
‘The dry cleaner in the lobby.’
‘Did you always pick up his laundry?’ Millar asked, trying the coffee again.
‘Not always, but sometimes. He could be pretty busy and forgetful about the little things.’
‘Did that bother you?’
‘Not really. It’s not in my job description, but I didn’t really mind. It got me out of the office, and it wasn’t like I had to go too far. He did ask me to go to the mall once to buy some new towels because he was going on vacation and forgot to pack them. I thought that was pushing it a bit.’
‘Did you do it?’
‘I did. I figured it was a nice excuse to go out for a walk. Bought the towels and stopped for a beer with the change on the walk back.’
‘Did you enjoy working for Mark?’
‘I did.’
‘So, going back to Monday, what were his plans after giving the presentation?’
‘As far as I know, he was planning to come back to the office, pick up his suit, then head home to get ready,’ Chris said.
‘He didn’t have any other engagements?’
‘Nothing official, no.’
‘Nothing official?’
‘Sometimes he would meet with other MPs or business people from the community. He would usually set those up himself, so I wouldn’t necessarily know about them. Unless there was a conflict with one of his official meetings.’
‘But he had nothing in his calendar?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Any idea what he might have been doing over by the old paper plant or in Gatineau?’ asked Millar.
‘There was a beer he liked that you can’t get on the Ontario side, so sometimes he would go to one of the depanneur’s over on the Quebec side. There’s one just the other side of the Chaudière bridge, on Eddy Street. That’s close to the old E.B. Eddy paper plant.’
‘Do you know if he was having issues with anyone? Problems with his job or anything?’
‘Don’t think so.’ Chris thought for a second before mentioning, ‘He didn’t get along too well with Laura.’
‘Who’s Laura?’
‘Laura Ingram. She’s a member of the Opposition’s Shadow Cabinet. But that’s nothing out of the ordinary. MP’s don’t usually get along too well with their critics from the other parties.’
‘So, with Mark’s job, what type of things would he do?’ Millar asked. He had another sip of his coffee, which had finally cooled to a tolerable temperature.
‘He would work with other countries, setting up trade deals, import and export regulations. Lots of meetings, both in person and over the phone or by videoconference.’
Millar looked around the room. ‘Mark was planning on running again in this year’s election?’ he asked, spying some campaign signs in the corner.
‘He was.’
‘Was there much competition in his riding?’
‘The official list of candidates isn’t out yet, so we didn’t know for sure if anyone was running against him, but rumour had it Nino Pattoria was going to be running again. He didn’t like Mark too much.’
‘Running again? So, he had run before?’
‘Yeah, in the last election. It was pretty close. And Nino was not very happy that Mark won. Tried to claim that Mark must have cheated somehow. He started running open letters in the local paper claiming voter fraud.’
‘Really? Interesting. What’s going to happen with Mark’s position now?’
‘I guess they’ll have a by-election. Or they may just decide to hold off until the October election—I’m not too sure. I don’t know who makes that decision.’
‘And what will you do?’
‘Good question. I haven’t really thought about it.’ Chris looked down. ‘Guess I’m kind of unemployed now.’
‘Well,’ Millar sensed that this might be a good time to make his exit. ‘Thanks for your time and the coffee’ he said, standing up.
‘No problem,’ Chris said, also getting out of his chair. They walked back into the main room.
‘If you think of anything, even if it doesn’t seem important, give me a call,’ Millar said, handing Chris his card. ‘Sorry for your loss.’
‘Thanks,’ Chris said, looking at the card.
Millar opened the door and turned as he was stepping into the hall. ‘One more question. Any other police officers been here recently?’
‘No. Just you.’
‘Okay, thanks. If someone else does show up, can you let me know?’
‘Yeah, sure. No problem.’
‘Thanks.’ Millar let the door close behind him.
He took the elevator back down to the main floor. This time he had the entire ride to himself. The lobby of the building was still abuzz with people, both office workers and families escaping the winter weather. He found an empty table pushed up against a wall, away from the main corridor of people, sat down and pulled out his phone.
‘Penner.’
‘Hey, it’s me,’ Millar said into his phone.
‘What’s up?’
‘Just finished here with Mark’s assistant. Nothing too interesting. That RCMP inspector hasn’t been here yet, which kind of surprises me. I figured he would have come here by now.’
‘Yeah. Me, too. Strange. I saw the Captain. He’s going to get in touch with Beverly and ask about anything missing from the home office. That print that FIS found on the back door turned out to be hers, so not very helpful.’
‘That sucks. I thought we may have gotten lucky for a change. What are your plans now?’
‘I was just going to head next door—grab a burger or something. You?’
‘I’m going to go and see if I can track down another Member of Parliament, a Laura Ingram. Apparently, she and Mark didn’t always see eye to eye. When you’re done eating, can you look into someone for me?’
‘Sure, who?’
‘His name’s Nino Pattoria. He ran against Mark in the last election. Claimed Mark only won because of, get this, voter fraud.’
‘Fraud? Think that’s why the RCMP guy’s on the investigation?’
‘Don’t know why else he would be. The RCMP would probably have been involved if voter fraud was a possibility. Perhaps they suspect this Nino guy had something to do with Mark’s death.’
‘I’ll see what I can find out. Anything else?’
‘Not for now. Enjoy your hamburger. I’ll meet you back at the precinct in a couple of hours.’ He ended the call and opened the internet brow
ser, typing in Laura Ingram’s name. Her official party website was the first page returned and on it he found her office’s address. ‘Two blocks away,’ he said. ‘Back into the cold, I guess.’
CHAPTER NINETEEN
As Grant pulled into the school’s parking lot, large, fluffy snowflakes began to drift down from the sky. He found a spot in the visitor parking section that wasn’t too far from the main entrance to the school. He pulled his collar up and stepped out of his car, nearly slipping on some black ice. Moving gingerly, trying to keep his footing, he made his way to the large double doors.
The entrance of the school was adorned with photos featuring current and former students at various events—science fairs, sporting events, art exhibitions, band concerts. He stomped his feet on the rubber mat to knock the snow off his boots. The main office was to his right. He unzipped his jacket and knocked on the door. An older, grey-haired woman sat at the long desk behind a counter. Two young boys were sitting in chairs just inside the door. One had a tissue sticking out of his nostril, red with blood. The other was holding a bag of ice on his hand.
‘Can I help you?’ the woman asked.
‘Hi, I’m Sergeant Grant with the Ottawa Police,’ he said, showing his badge. The boy with the ice on his hand squirmed in his chair. Grant looked at him. The colour had gone from his face. ‘The other day, Mr. Mark Williams was here to do a presentation. I was wondering if I could speak with the teacher whose class he was in,’ he said, turning his gaze back to the woman behind the counter. He heard the boy with the injured hand let out a sigh of relief.
‘Sure. Give me a second,’ the woman said. She pulled out a book and looked at a list of names. ‘Mr. Williams was signed in by Mrs. Moore. Hmm, he never signed out when he left. If you could just sign in here, you can go down to her class, if you would like. But make sure you come back and sign out when you leave. We like to know who’s in the building at all times.’ She turned the book around and pointed to where Grant needed to fill in his information. ‘So, in the main hall here, turn right, pass by the first corridor. At the washrooms, turn right again. She’s in room one thirteen. It’ll be on the left.’
‘Thanks for your help,’ Grant said. He turned and looked at the boy with the ice on his hand. ‘I may be back to talk to you.’ At those words, the boy’s eyes opened wider than Grant thought possible.
Grant followed the corridor to the washrooms and turned as instructed. A few girls walked past him, giggling as they went. Room one thirteen. He looked through the window on the door and saw a young woman at the blackboard, writing something as she talked over her shoulder. He knocked on the glass. She turned and put her chalk down before walking over and opening the door.
‘Yes?’
‘Sorry to interrupt your class. The secretary said I could come by and see you.’
‘And you are?’
‘Oh, right, sorry. Sergeant Grant, Ottawa Police,’ Grant said, showing his badge. He heard the students start talking excitedly.
‘That’s enough,’ Mrs. Moore said, turning her head to the students. ‘Just keep yourselves busy for a minute. Remember, I can still hear you from out here.’ She stepped into the hall and closed the door behind her, keeping one hand on the doorknob. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘The other day you had a guest speaker. Mark Williams?’
‘Yes. He came to give a presentation to my social studies class.’
‘How long was he here for?’
‘He got to my class just after eleven. I think he ended up leaving just before noon,’ Mrs. Moore said.
‘How did he seem while he was here?’
‘At first he seemed fine. Gave a very good presentation—better than I was expecting, actually. He spoke for a while on global trade and business in general.’
‘At first?’
‘Well, he started a Q and A, letting the students ask him questions. I noticed that he started to sweat quite a bit, which I thought was strange. It wasn’t like they were asking real pressing questions or anything. He almost looked confused after a bit. Kept rubbing his eyes, adjusting his shirt collar. After about ten minutes he just stood up, grabbed his coat and left,’ Mrs. Moore said. The bell suddenly rang and the classroom doors all seemed to open at once, including the one Mrs. Moore had been holding shut. Teens of all sizes poured into the hall in a barrage of noise. ‘Hey, no running!’ she yelled out at two boys who ran past.
‘Sorry, ma’am,’ one of them said, slowing to a fast walk.
‘If you want,’ she said to Grant, ‘we can go into my class. It will be quieter, and I’ve got a break before the next period.’
‘That’s okay. I think that’s all I have to ask for now. You’ve been very helpful. Just one more question. Did you happen to smell any alcohol on him? Could he have been drunk?’
‘No, I don’t think so. I didn’t smell anything—just his cologne. Like I said, when he first arrived, he seemed fine. What ever came over him happened pretty quickly.’
‘Well, thanks for your time. Sorry about interrupting your lessons.’ Grant turned to find his way back to the office.
CHAPTER TWENTY
In the east end of town, at the old RCMP Headquarters Building, Corporal Kulcheski pulled on her fur hat before getting out of her car. She walked up to the main entrance and scanned her security card, unlocking the door. She walked down the hallway, past several other officers and civilian employees, and stopped in the kitchen. She unzipped her coat and took off her hat, putting them both on a table in the corner. Opening the cupboard over the sink, she grabbed a mug and filled it with cold water from the watercooler. She had called her supervisor earlier, letting him know she was on her way, and he had said he would meet her in the kitchen. She sat down at the table, absentmindedly adjusting her ponytail.
After a few minutes of waiting, a man entered the kitchen and sat down across the small table from her. Sergeant Major Ashley “Tuck” Monk was short and stocky. In his mid-fifties, he had a wispy moustache barely visible on his upper lip. He took off his hat, placed it on the table beside Kulcheski’s, and exhaled heavily.
‘Thanks for meeting me, sir,’ Kulcheski said. ‘You’re not looking very good. Feeling okay?’
‘I think I’m coming down with a cold or something. I was in a meeting last week with Davison, and he was sneezing the entire time. I was hoping to avoid getting whatever he had, but I don’t think I’m going to be that lucky,’ Monk said. He noticed Kulcheski’s expression change slightly and added, ‘Don’t worry. If I picked it up last week, I doubt I’m contagious anymore.’
‘All the same, I think I’ll just move back a bit, sir,’ Kulcheski said, pushing her chair back. ‘So, were you able to find out anything more about the inspector?’
‘Not much, I’m afraid. I was able to track down another inspector who used to work with him. He said he wasn’t much of a team player, real hard ass type, but he got the job done. He’s been with fraud for a while now. I’m still trying to figure out why he wanted to take over the entire case. Probably more an ego thing than anything else, but we’ll see what we can find.’
‘So, where do we go from here? Am I still supposed to be involved? I don’t want to step on an inspector’s toes, but I’m not about to disobey you, either.’
‘Oh, we’re not dropping this. This is our area, so I want you involved. If he gives you any more issues, just give him my number and keep doing what you’re doing. If I need to escalate anything, I will—that’s not a problem,’ Monk said. He pulled a tissue out of his pocket and wiped his nose. He was gradually starting to look worse. ‘You said there were some Ottawa cops working on it, too?’
‘Yes, sir. A couple of detectives and a sergeant,’ Kulcheski said, backing her chair up a bit more. ‘One of the detectives said he would keep me in the loop with anything they find out.’
‘Good. Make sure you stay in touch with them. It could raise some eyebrows if we do too much digging around here, but the locals may be able to figure out
what’s going on. I’ll do what I can here, while keeping a low profile. I really want to know why the fraud team is involved. From what I’ve heard and read, Mr. Williams was an up-and-up guy, so I can’t see what fraud would be looking into,’ said Monk. ‘Anything else?’
‘Don’t think so, sir. Perhaps you should head home, get some rest.’ Kulcheski tried to think of a way to be diplomatic and gave up. ‘You really look pretty awful.’
‘Gee, thanks. But you’re right—I think that’s what I’ll do. I’ll have my phone, so feel free to call if you need anything. Just leave a message if I don’t answer.’
‘Will do, sir,’ Kulcheski said, standing up and grabbing her coat and hat. ‘Thanks. Get some rest.’
Kulcheski walked back into the hallway and pulled out her ringing phone. She looked at the display but didn’t recognize the number. ‘Corporal Kulcheski.’
‘Hey, it’s Detective Millar.’
‘Hi, Detective. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon. What can I do for you?’
‘Do you know a Laura Ingram, by any chance? She’s another politician—figured you might know her from dealing with the MP’s on the Hill.’
‘I do. Well, I know who she is—I can’t say I know her too well personally, or anything. Why?’
‘I’m at her office building. Going to head up to see her, if I can, and I figured I’d try and get some background before I did. Anything you can tell me about her?’
‘Not too much, I’m afraid. She always seems nice when I see her around. Polite enough. Really sharp dresser compared to some of the other MPs. Takes her job as a member of the Opposition pretty seriously. From what I can tell, she likes working for her constituents.’
‘Would she know who you are?’
‘Possibly. She always says hi to me when I see her. Not by name or anything, but she seems like she remembers me most times. Mind you, it could just be her politician greeting. Smile and be nice to anyone who may possibly be a voter. Why?’
‘Well, I was just wondering if you wanted to be here when I talk to her. Apparently, she didn’t get along with Mark very well. I thought she may have some insight into what the inspector is investigating. Could be nothing, but right now I don’t have anything else to go on. She may be more open to talking if it’s someone she knows. If you’re available, of course. I don’t want to get you in trouble with your boss or anything.’
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