The Art of Murder

by Kevin Hopkins

  Millar stood in line behind a man buying a six pack of beer and some cigarettes. He spoke to the cashier in English when he paid.

  ‘Bonjour,’ the cashier said to Millar after the man left.

  ‘Hi. I was wondering if you could help me. I know it’s a long shot, but do you recognize this man, by any chance?’ Millar asked, showing the picture of Mark.

  The cashier stared at the picture for a moment. ‘I think so, yes. He’s English, no? He speaks French but with a pretty strong accent. Definitely didn’t grow up speaking French. Probably from the Ontario side?’

  ‘Yeah, he is. He’s a politician,’ Millar said, taking back his phone. ‘Does he come in here often?’

  ‘Maybe every couple of weeks. He usually buys some cassis flavoured beers from a Quebec brewery.’

  ‘Was he in this week? Monday afternoon?’ asked Millar.

  ‘No, I don’t think so. If I remember properly, he was in last week. Maybe the end of the week before, but not this week.’

  ‘You’re sure?’

  ‘Sure? Non. Pretty sure? Oui.’

  ‘Okay,’ Millar said. ‘Thanks for your time.’

  Millar walked out of the store, holding the door open for an older woman. He headed back towards his car, passing by several government employees smoking outside one of the buildings.

  He got to his car and grabbed a pair of binoculars that he kept in his glove box. He locked the car again and walked back to the bridge he had crossed earlier. At the centre of the span, he looked out over the river. He could just make out the Parliament buildings on the other side of another one of the interprovincial bridges.

  He looked down at the water rushing past. Between the two bridges, the water turned to solid ice. He held the binoculars up to his eyes and focused on the ice just beside the open water. He was hoping that he would be able to see footprints in the snow. No luck. Even with all the snow over the past week, the ice was windswept and bare.

  Millar looked at the shore along the Ontario side, then north towards the Quebec shore. ‘No one would try to cut across there,’ he thought. Someone would need to clamber down a hill on the Ontario side to get down to the ice and back up a steeper hill on the Quebec side. With three bridges in the near vicinity, it made no sense that someone would try to use the river as a shortcut.

  He returned to his car and drove back over the bridge onto the Ontario side of the river, taking Middle Street to Victoria Island. He drove along and parked his car beside one of the old stone buildings. He got out and walked towards the trees that lined the rivers edge. Just the other side of the trees was a fence blocking his path.

  Millar walked along the fence until he was able to see the river clearly. Fully frozen. Chances were good that if someone had walked along the river here and fell onto the ice, they wouldn’t have broken through. Frustrated, he returned to his car.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The sun was finally shining as Millar drove back to the precinct. The plows had done a good job of clearing the worst of the snow—all that remained were the large snowbanks that lined either side of the streets. For such a short drive, Millar went through a lot of washer fluid. Whatever the city used on the streets to combat the ice build-up created a sticky mess on windshields, making it difficult to see with the glare of the sun.

  Entering the building, he first dropped his coat off in his office and then made his way to Penner’s. The door was open and he walked in, surprised to see the Captain sitting in one of the chairs. Penner was sitting behind her desk and Grant was leaning against one wall.

  ‘Am I interrupting?’ Millar asked.

  ‘Ah, Terry. I was just telling Sue and Neil that I got a call this afternoon from a superintendent at the RCMP,’ the Captain said.

  ‘Really?’ Millar sat down in the empty chair next to the Captain.

  ‘I was told, yet again, that our services are not needed on this case and that we should halt our investigation,’ the Captain said. ‘He also told me that we should turn over any information we get from Dr. Pelow immediately, because apparently she isn’t being very cooperative.’

  ‘I don’t have any info from her. But I can attest that she can be a little hard to work with at times.’

  ‘I’m not sure she’s always the problem,’ said the Captain. ‘But that’s besides the point. Officially, we are off the case.’

  ‘Officially, sir?’ Penner said.

  ‘Officially, yes. We were called out because Mark was found deceased. As of right now, there are no indications that it was anything more than a natural death, so there’s nothing more for us to do.’

  ‘No, I guess not,’ Penner said. She looked at Millar.

  ‘However,’ the Captain continued, ‘Mark was a friend, and so is Beverly. There’s something strange going on, and I want to know what it is. So, until I tell you otherwise, I want the three of you working this. I want to know what the RCMP are looking into. Find out anything you can.’

  ‘How are we going to do that, sir? I’m not really sure how we can investigate an RCMP officer to see what he’s investigating,’ Penner said.

  ‘I don’t know. Get creative,’ said the Captain. ‘We know the inspector works with the fraud squad. Mark worked with international trade. See if there’s a link. Don’t investigate the officer, investigate the case. Come up with plausible scenarios and see if there’s any meat to them. Put yourself in his shoes. Where would you be looking?’

  ‘Easier said than done, sir,’ Millar said. ‘He could be investigating anything.’

  ‘Well, make a list of the possibilities and see what you can find out. If you need to tail the guy for a bit, see where he goes, so be it. You had mentioned that there was another RCMP officer looking into this Inspector Wilson, right? If she’s still willing, see what she can find out.’

  ‘She’s already helping us out, sir. Her boss wasn’t too happy with the way the inspector was throwing his weight around, so he gave her the green light to do some digging,’ Millar said.

  ‘Good. I spoke with Beverly—she can’t confirm if anything was taken from their home office the other night. She said it seemed like mostly papers were disturbed, but she doesn’t use that office. It was Mark’s, so she didn’t know what, if anything, was gone.’ The Captain got up from the chair. ‘Keep me in the loop, I want to know how things are progressing. If you hear anything more from Dr. Pelow, let me know. Mark was a pretty healthy guy.’

  ‘Will do, sir,’ Penner said. ‘Tomorrow night I’m going to go to Gabe Tootsie’s art opening that Beverly organized. I think there are going to be some political figures there—perhaps I can ask around, see if anyone has any idea why Mark is being investigated.’

  ‘Good. I’m going to try and stop in as well, make sure Beverly is doing alright. Mind you, with everything that’s going on, she may decide not to go,’ the Captain said. His cellphone vibrated and he looked at the display. ‘I have to take this. I’ll see you tomorrow night if not before,’ he said as he answered his phone and walked into the hall, heading back towards his own office.

  ‘So, any thoughts on how we get started?’ Millar asked. ‘Were you able to find anything of interest on that Nino Pattoria?’

  ‘Not too much, yet. I did find an article on the CBC’s website. He ran against Mark in the last election. During all the preliminary polls, he was the favourite to win—and by a pretty good margin, too,’ Penner said. ‘As election day got closer, he was still the favourite, so it was considered an upset when Mark won the seat. The day after all the votes were in, Pattoria did an interview and said that the only way he could have lost was if Mark either bought a bunch of votes using his family riches or tampered with the votes some other way.’

  ‘Nothing like a sore loser,’ Grant said.

  ‘No kidding. After that, he filed an official complaint with Elections Canada, and they contacted the RCMP,’ said Penner. ‘From what I can tell, the case was closed two months later with no charges being laid.’

&
nbsp; ‘So, Mark won fair and square,’ Millar said.

  ‘Possibly. No charges were laid because they couldn’t find any evidence to back up the accusations. That doesn’t mean he didn’t do anything.’

  ‘True. So, it’s possible they’re re-investigating because of the upcoming election—want to make sure there’s nothing fishy this time. Any idea if this Wilson guy was the original investigator? Maybe he always assumed something happened and now he wants to prove it.’

  ‘The article didn’t mention any of the investigating officers by name. Maybe Kulcheski can find that out,’ Penner said.

  ‘I’ll give her a call and get her to have a look,’ Millar said. He stood up and walked over to a large whiteboard on the wall. Picking up a blue marker, he started writing. ‘Do we have a number for Pattoria?’

  ‘We do. I tried giving him a call, but he wasn’t there. I left a message for him to call me back.’

  ‘Okay. When you hear from him, we should pay him a visit—get his version of events. Find out if he’s been paid a visit by Inspector Wilson.’ More writing. ‘How did it go at the school?’

  ‘Nothing too interesting,’ Grant said. ‘Mark showed up on time and did his presentation. At the end, he did a Q and A with the students. Part way into that, he started sweating and acting confused. Then he just up and left.’

  ‘Strange. Maybe he had the flu or something?’ suggested Penner.

  ‘That’s possible. We should ask Beverly if he was sick. I’ll ask his assistant, too. Maybe food poisoning? Did Faye say if there was any food in his stomach?’ Millar asked.

  ‘She didn’t mention it, but I’ll ask her the next time I talk to her. And if Beverly’s at Gabe’s art opening tomorrow night, I’ll talk to her there about Mark’s health.’

  ‘Good,’ Millar said. More writing. ‘I went over to the Quebec side before coming back here and asked around at some of the stores to see if anyone saw Mark on Monday. One woman said he was usually in every week or two, but he wasn’t there this week. I also checked out the water around the bridge. I doubt anyone was walking on the ice on purpose. Not to cross the river, anyway. Way too hard to access the shore on either side,’ he said. ‘Anything else?’

  ‘Do you want me to try and keep an eye on Wilson?’ Grant asked. ‘It may be hard, not really knowing which building he’s working out of, but I can try.’

  ‘Yeah, that would be good,’ Millar said, writing again. ‘But watch yourself, this guy seems pretty slick.’ He stepped back from the board. In large, blue capital letters:

  1) ORIGINAL INVESTIGATING OFFICER – CALL KULCHESKI

  2) VISIT PATTORIA – WILSON ALREADY VISIT?

  3) FLU? FOOD POISONING? OTHER ILLNESS? ASK BEVERLY AND CHRIS

  4) FOOD IN STOMACH?

  5) FOLLOW WILSON

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Corporal Kulcheski had been back at her office for an hour when Millar called. ‘No problem, I’ll see what I can find out.’ Her drive back to the building had taken much less time than when she’d gone out earlier to meet Millar. There were no plows on the roads causing a traffic jam. The sun was still out but the clouds were already starting to move in again, creating dark shadows everywhere.

  She had been able to find the original case file on the complaint of voter fraud filed by Mr. Nino Pattoria. She read through the electronic copy of the file on her computer, which included the final report by the investigating officer, Corporal Walsh. ‘So, Wilson wasn’t the investigator at the time,’ she thought. She wrote down Corporal Walsh’s name on a sheet of paper.

  Reading more of the report, she saw that the case had been closed shortly after being opened, as she had expected. No charges were ever filed against Mark Williams and the investigation was complete. She finished reading the report, hoping it would mention who the supervising officer was, but there was no mention of his or her name.

  Kulcheski picked up her phone and dialed.

  ‘Corporal Simons’

  ‘Hey, Cary. How’s it going? It’s Natasha.’

  ‘Hey, Tash. I’m doing well, and you? Keeping busy?’

  ‘Always. Wonder if you could do me a favour. Can you pull up the personnel file for Corporal Bruce Walsh? I want to know who he reported to three years ago.’

  ‘Sure thing, give me a sec. Okay, let me see. Corporal Bruce Walsh. Forty-two. Been on the force for seventeen years. So, three years ago he was reporting to a Staff Sergeant Duncan. Worked under him until his last reassignment which was in January last year.’

  ‘Hmm, okay. Where was he last assigned?’

  ‘He is, ah, he’s with the musical ride now.’

  ‘Really? Okay, cool. The stables aren’t far from here so I can go track him down. Can you check one more thing for me?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Can you see where an Inspector Wilson was three years ago. First name Gord. Or Gordon, I guess.’

  ‘Alright. Gordon Wilson. Three years ago, he was with Fraud—same place he is now. Been there for six years.’

  ‘Perfect, thanks for all your help.’

  ‘Anytime. Hmm, that’s interesting.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘This Wilson doesn’t have the cleanest record. He’s had a few complaints against him. Looks like he enjoys overstepping his role at times. Been written up for harassment. Oh, apparently, he broke someone’s nose during an interrogation. Said the guy hit his face against the table and tried to blame him for it. I guess the disciplinary committee didn’t agree when they listened to the recording.’

  ‘Sounds like a class guy. Listen, thanks for your help! We’ll have to grab a beer one of these nights.’

  ‘Sounds like a plan. Later, Tash.’

  Kulcheski hung up the phone. She scribbled some notes on her sheet of paper and looked at the time. ‘No point in driving over to the stables today,’ she thought. She logged off the computer and decided to head home.

  ***

  The next morning Kulcheski was sitting in a booth at Joe’s Diner when Penner arrived.

  ‘Starting to become a regular here, aren’t you?’ Penner said. ‘You’re going to have to change forces if you want to start hanging out here all the time. May I?’ she asked, motioning to the bench seat across from Kulcheski.

  ‘Please,’ Kulcheski said, straightening up. ‘I have to head to the RCMP stables this morning and figured I’d stop for a quick bite to eat first.’

  ‘Really? Cool,’ Penner said. ‘I remember doing a tour there when I was a kid. I was impressed with how clean it was and how beautiful the horses were. I actually thought about joining the RCMP just to get to ride the horses.’

  ‘What made you choose the Ottawa force instead?’ Kulcheski asked.

  ‘Well, for one, I found out you guys don’t all ride horses all the time.’

  ‘No, we don’t. I think a lot of people get disappointed when they find that out.’

  ‘Plus, I didn’t want to be in a job where I could get posted anywhere at any time. I kind of like having the stability of staying in one place.’

  ‘You know, that’s actually the main reason I did choose the RCMP,’ Kulcheski said. ‘I grew up in Northern Saskatchewan, so I was ready for a change—a chance to see different parts of the country. I really like that. It’s tough for some people, that’s for sure—especially members with kids or spouses. It’s a real commitment for the whole family.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s definitely not for me. I like the fact that I can move around in the same city if I want. That’s enough change for my liking,’ Penner said. She waved as she saw Millar and Grant walk through the door.

  ‘Morning guys,’ Millar said as he sat down beside Kulcheski leaving Grant to sit on the opposite side next to Penner. ‘Another cold one out there today.’

  ‘At least it stopped snowing again,’ said Penner. ‘I don’t remember the last time I had to shovel so much.’

  ‘That’s one of the nice things about living in an apartment—not something I have to wor
ry about,’ Grant said. He heard the crackle of a radio and looked over at the table beside them.

  Two uniformed officers listened intently. They stood up abruptly and put on their coats. ‘Sorry, Joe. We gotta run. We’ll pay up next time,’ one of the officers called out as they headed for the door, leaving their untouched plates of food on the table.

  ‘I don’t miss those days,’ Grant said, watching them leave the restaurant. ‘It’s nice being able to sit down and actually finish a meal.’

  ‘No kidding,’ said Millar, looking at the plates of food. He was tempted to grab a strip of bacon but saw Joe coming towards them and decided better of it.

  ‘A lot of food must end up in the bin, eh?’ Millar said as Joe stopped by their table. ‘How’s it going, Joe?’

  ‘Doing well. Not as busy as I’d like, but the recent weather has been keeping people away. Guess it’s nice to have a bit of a break every now and then.’ He put down coffee cups for Millar and Grant.

  ‘Enjoy the downtime while you can,’ Millar said. ‘Can I get my usual when you get a chance?’

  ‘No problem. Neil? Sue?’ said Joe.

  ‘Same, please,’ Penner said. Grant nodded in agreement.

  ‘And yours should be out in a minute. You wanted extra bacon and extra sausage, right?’

  ‘Please,’ Kulcheski said. The others at the table stared at her. ‘What? I like my pig products.’

  ‘Shouldn’t be long, guys,’ Joe said, turning to clear away the plates on the table beside them.

  ‘So, what’s on the docket for today?’ Penner asked, taking a sip of coffee.

  ‘I’d like to see if we can find this Pattoria and get a statement from him. I was thinking about the case last night—maybe Inspector Wilson isn’t investigating the fraud allegations from the last election, but maybe he’s making sure Mark was complying with all the electoral rules this time. Maybe Pattoria called in to make sure everything was on the up and up,’ suggested Millar.