The Art of Murder

by Kevin Hopkins

  ‘We’re looking for Mr. Pattoria,’ Penner said, scanning the room.

  ‘You found him. And you are?’ Mr. Pattoria said, taking off his glasses and wiping them on his jacket. He held them up to the light, squinted and put them back on. They made his eyes look huge.

  ‘I’m Detective Penner and this is Detective Millar.’

  ‘Detectives?’ Mr. Pattoria said.

  ‘Yes. We just have a few questions for you, regarding Mr. Mark Williams.’

  ‘Did you finally come to your senses and realize that he’s a crook? A common criminal? It took you all long enough. I didn’t think you idiots were ever going to do anything.’

  Millar looked at Penner and raised an eyebrow. He moved some papers off a chair and sat down.

  ‘We just have a few questions,’ Penner repeated calmly. ‘During the last election, you filed a complaint against Mr. Williams, correct?’

  ‘I did, and with good reason. He bought that victory. There was no way he gained that much traction in the last few days. I don’t care what anyone says—he would never have won fair and square.’

  ‘And when you made the complaint, it was investigated by an RCMP officer, correct?’

  ‘He was an idiot. Just like all of them. Couldn’t see the truth if it bit him in the ass.’

  ‘If it bit him in the ass, it would have been behind him and difficult to see, no?’ Millar asked innocently. Mr. Pattoria shot him a look, unimpressed.

  ‘You’re planning on running in this year’s election?’ Penner asked. She looked at Millar and shook her head.

  ‘I am and I’m going to make sure I win this time. There’re too many corrupt criminals in power these days. That needs to change and I’m going to change it.’

  ‘Right.’ Penner looked back at Millar. He smiled. ‘So, when was the last time you saw Mr. Williams?’

  ‘I saw him Monday. I’ve seen him every week for the last two years.’

  ‘Really? Where?’ Penner asked.

  ‘At his office. I go there every Monday morning. I hand out flyers outside his office, making sure everyone knows what a corrupt piece of crap he is.’

  ‘What time do you go there?’

  ‘I get there at eight and stay until I see him. I’m usually there for an hour or two, maybe longer.’

  ‘And when you saw him Monday, what time was that?’

  ‘I didn’t see him when he first got to the office. Bastard must have used a different entrance or went in early. But I saw him when I was about to leave. Around eleven, maybe. I’m not sure.’

  ‘Probably when he went to the school,’ Millar said in an aside to Penner.

  ‘Did you talk to him?’ Penner asked.

  ‘No. Last time I tried to talk to him, the coward called the cops and got a restraining order.’

  ‘That’s surprising,’ Millar said sarcastically.

  ‘Right? I’m one of his constituents—he should treat me better,’ Mr. Pattoria said. His face and neck were beginning to turn red.

  ‘So, if you didn’t talk to him, what did you do when he left?’

  ‘I followed him. From the proper distance,’ Mr. Pattoria quickly added. ‘I handed out more flyers and made sure people knew who was representing them.’

  ‘How long did you follow him for?’

  ‘Until I was out of flyers and cold. I’m not sure. Not long.’

  ‘Where was the last place you saw him?’

  ‘On the canal. I stopped to get a hot chocolate to warm up. By the time I had it, he was gone. I couldn’t see him in the crowd, so I came back here.’

  ‘Do you watch the news or read the paper?’ Millar asked.

  ‘Full of lies. I don’t have time for that.’

  ‘You may want to before you head to Mr. Williams’ office next week,’ Millar said, standing up from the chair. ‘Anything else?’ he said to Penner.

  ‘I think that’s all. Thanks for your time, Mr. Pattoria,’ Penner said, walking to the door. ‘Oh, one more thing. Have you been visited by an RCMP officer recently? An inspector, by any chance?’

  ‘No. No other idiots have been here. Just you two.’

  ‘Have a nice day,’ Penner said. She closed the door behind them when they were in the hall.

  ‘What a piece of work. He made it hard not to get up and throw him across the room,’ Millar said. ‘So, our inspector friend hasn’t visited. That surprises me.’

  ‘Yeah, I thought he would have been here already if he was looking into the election fraud again. Would have been one of the first places he would have come. It must not have anything to do with the election,’ Penner said.

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘I have no idea.’

  ‘Just a sec,’ Millar said. He took his phone out of his pocket. ‘Millar.’

  ‘Hi, Detective? It’s Chris, Mark’s assistant.’

  ‘Hi, Chris. What can I do for you?’ Millar said. ‘Mark’s assistant,’ he mouthed to Penner.

  ‘Well, when you came to see me, you asked me to call if any other officers showed up.’

  ‘Right. Has someone been to see you?’

  ‘Yeah, said his name was Inspector Wilson. From the RCMP. He just left and I called right away.’

  ‘Wilson, eh? What did he want?’

  ‘He was asking some questions about what Mark had been doing the day he disappeared. Kind of the same things you were asking.’

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘Yeah. There was one strange thing—he asked if I knew how Mark and Beverly got all their money.’

  ‘Really. What did you tell him?’

  ‘I told him that, as far as I knew, Beverly inherited a lot of money from her father. It’s not something I ever asked—not really the type of thing you ask your boss.’

  ‘No, I guess not. Okay, thanks for letting me know.’

  ‘No problem.’

  ‘Oh, before you go, do you know if Mark had ever been investigated for anything, other than the voter fraud?’

  ‘Don’t think so. Not since I started working for him, anyway.’

  ‘Right. Thanks. Are you going to this art opening tonight?’

  ‘I think so. I don’t have a job to go to tomorrow, so I might as well go out and have some free food and wine, right?’

  ‘Not a bad idea. Thanks again.’ Millar hung up his phone. ‘So, Wilson was asking about Mark and Beverly’s money. Wonder if he’s thinking Mark was on the take somehow?’

  ‘Maybe. I guess it’s possible he was taking bribes—or, at least that someone claimed he was. He had a lot of meetings with businesses, foreign investors and special interest groups. Maybe someone offered him a pay-off for putting through a deal and he took it.’

  ‘Or, maybe someone didn’t get the deal they wanted and made false allegations against him,’ said Millar. ‘Probably won’t be able to access his financial records, eh?’

  ‘Doubt it. We’re not investigating a crime, so no judge would give us a warrant,’ Penner said. ‘Unless you think his wife would let us see their bank records.’

  ‘Do you want to ask a recent widow to show us her bank statements?’

  ‘Not at all,’ Penner said. ‘What about the financials for his office? That should be public record. Might find something in there.’

  ‘It’s worth a look, I guess. I’ll get in touch with Chris again and ask him for a list of all Mark’s recent meetings—see if anything jumps out,’ Millar said.

  ‘It would be so much easier if that Wilson guy would just let us know what’s going on. You know, I really don’t understand cops like him,’ said Penner. ‘We’re all in this together. Why not help each other out?’

  ‘Guess that’s why there are team sports and individual sports. Not everyone plays well with others.’

  ‘Never took you for one to use sports analogies. Even bad ones.’

  ‘Yeah, it wasn’t very good, was it. Whatever, you know what I mean.’ Millar held the front door open for Penner. ‘Come on. Let’s grab a coffee. Then, I
think I’ll head home after that and get ready for tonight. Want me to pick you up?’

  ‘Free wine and a designated driver? You’re every girl’s dream, Millar.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Kulcheski’s drive back to the precinct was slow again. St. Laurent boulevard wasn’t considered one of the major arteries in the city, so it hadn’t been plowed yet. Even though there wasn’t a lot of snow on the ground, she wound up stuck behind a small, two-door car that didn’t seem to have snow tires—going half the speed limit. ‘I don’t understand why someone wouldn’t spend the money on a good set of winter tires living here,’ she thought to herself. She often wondered why Ontario didn’t make winter tires mandatory, like Quebec did.

  After she parked her squad car and dropped off her jacket and hat on her desk, she went to her supervisor’s office to see if he had made it into the office. As she approached the door, she was overwhelmed by the smell of lemons.

  ‘Well, you’re looking a little more…human,’ Kulcheski said as she entered Monk’s office. ‘Lemon tea?’

  ‘With honey,’ Monk said, looking up from his computer. ‘Seems to help a bit. Still pretty wiped out and snotty.’

  ‘Lovely. Glad I stopped by.’

  ‘Yeah, me too. So, what’s going on with the case?’ Monk asked, leaning back in his chair and sipping his tea.

  ‘Not too much, really. I met up with Detective Millar—he’s one of the Ottawa cops. We went to see Laura Ingram, Mark’s counterpart, from the Opposition Shadow Cabinet. We didn’t find out as much as we had hoped. She’s not a fan of Mark, which wasn’t surprising—that’s kind of her job. Unfortunately, Inspector Wilson got there right before us and asked her not to talk to anyone else about Mark.’

  ‘What the hell is this guy up to? I just don’t understand why he’s being so secretive, especially since Mark’s dead. What’s the harm if anyone knows what he’s looking into?’ Monk said in exasperation. ‘If Mark was involved in some shady activities, it’s not like he can charge him with anything now. I don’t get it.’

  ‘Me, neither,’ Kulcheski said. ‘Unless…’

  ‘Unless what?’

  ‘What if he isn’t investigating Mark,’ said Kulcheski slowly.

  ‘Kinda seems like he is, though, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Yeah, it does. But that’s because of how we’re looking at it. What if Mark got in touch with the fraud squad because of something he witnessed or had information on. Maybe Wilson’s not investigating Mark but investigating something Mark knew about.’

  Monk sipped his tea and thought about Kulcheski’s theory. ‘That would make a lot of sense. He’s keeping quiet so whatever he’s looking into doesn’t get back to whoever’s involved,’ Monk said. He had another sip of tea and tapped his fingers on his mug. ‘Still doesn’t explain why he kicked you out of the autopsy, but I think that could just be because he’s a jerk. Hmm, so we could have been looking at this completely backwards.’

  ‘Easy to do, sir. If you hear that fraud’s asking around about someone, it must be because they did something,’ Kulcheski said. ‘So, if he is investigating a tip he received from Mark, what do we do now?’

  ‘Good question. Run this theory by the Ottawa cops first—see what they think. If nothing else, it’ll be good to look at things with a new perspective. It still might not be the right perspective, but it may just open up some other avenues to investigate.’ Monk finished the last of his lemon tea and put his mug on his desk. A thought seemed to occur to him. ‘Perhaps Laura Ingram didn’t want to talk to you guys because Wilson was actually investigating her? Maybe Mark had some dirt on her.’

  ‘Laura? She always seems so nice,’ Kulcheski protested. ‘I have a hard time thinking she could be involved in some type of fraud. But, like you’ve told me many times, I can’t let my emotions get in the way of an investigation. Alright. I’ll run this theory by the Ottawa detectives tonight. And I’ll start a background check on Laura.’

  ‘It’s a start, anyway. Well, a fresh start, I guess. Have you heard anything more about the cause of death yet?’

  ‘Not yet. I’ll ask Detective Penner—she’s the other Ottawa detective, if she’s heard anything else. I’ll be seeing them all tonight at an art opening.’

  ‘Art opening? Is it part of the case?’ Monk asked. He took out a tissue and blew his nose. ‘I think my cold pills have started to wear off.’

  ‘Your eyes are starting to get a little droopy,’ Kulcheski said. ‘No, the opening isn’t related to the case. Well, not directly. Mark’s wife, Beverly, set up an art show for an out-of-town artist. Detective Penner was thinking there could be some people from Mark and Beverly’s circle of friends who might know what Mark was up to.’

  ‘Sounds fun. Right. Keep me in the loop. I’m going to head home shortly. I just have one report to finish. If you need me, you’ve got my number.’

  ‘Thanks, sir. You alright to drive home? You’re looking pretty out of it,’ Kulcheski asked, getting up from her chair.

  ‘Yeah, I’ll be fine. It’s not too far of a drive. Keep up the good work and have fun tonight.’

  Kulcheski spent another hour in the office, trying to uncover any reason why Laura could be the subject of Wilson’s investigation. She didn’t have a criminal record of any kind, which wasn’t too surprising. It’s tough for a politician to get elected if they’ve had any type of run-in with the law.

  Doing an internet search didn’t turn up very much either. There were a lot of interviews—the kind you’d expect to see from a member of the Opposition. Complaining about every deal Mark signed. Saying it was the worst deal that he could possibly have made. A waste of money for Canadian businesses and the general public. Definitely not the type of deal her party would have made.

  Kulcheski leaned back in her chair, took off her glasses and closed her eyes. She sat there for five minutes, thinking. Thinking about Wilson. Thinking about how they could get inside his head and figure out what he was looking for.

  ‘Hey, Tash.’ A voice behind her startled her. She opened her eyes, put her glasses back on and turned around.

  ‘Hey, Justin. How’s it going?’ Kulcheski said.

  ‘Not bad. Sorry if I scared you. Didn’t realize you were taking a nap,’ Corporal Justin Thomas said with a grin. Kulcheski and Thomas had worked together on the Hill until his recent transfer to the cyber security unit.

  ‘I was just thinking, not sleeping,’ Kulcheski said.

  ‘Sure you were. Pretty sure I heard you snoring.’

  ‘Whatever.’

  ‘Haven’t seen you around in a bit. Keeping busy?’ Thomas asked as he pulled up a chair and sat down, looking at her computer screen.

  ‘Yeah, pretty busy. Trying to figure out why someone’s being investigated.’

  ‘Oh yeah? That sounds like you’re working backwards. Investigated by who?’ Thomas asked. ‘And who’s Laura Ingram?’

  ‘She’s a politician—an MP. Do you know an Inspector Wilson, by any chance?’ Kulcheski asked.

  ‘Gord? Yeah, I know him. He’s in my foursome every year during the charity golf tournament. Pretty good golfer. A lot better than me, anyway. Why?’

  ‘I’m trying to figure out what he’s working on is all,’ said Kulcheski.

  ‘Why? He’s with fraud. Is this politician lady doing some shifty shit?’

  ‘Don’t really know,’ Kulcheski said. ‘Another MP was found dead, so I was tasked with being at his autopsy—just to make sure there was nothing suspicious about his death. Wilson showed up. Told me he was taking over the investigation and I was to drop it. Since then, he’s been snooping around and asking questions—and telling people not to talk to me or any other officer.’

  ‘Sounds like Gord,’ Thomas said. ‘Now I know why you’re working this backwards. He’s a nice guy, but I can see why you wouldn’t want to just call him up and ask him what he’s working on. He definitely likes things done his way, and he doesn’t like people getting in his way. And he
doesn’t think he needs anyone’s help to get things done.’

  ‘Yeah, that all checks out,’ Kulcheski said. ‘Not a good way of making allies.’

  ‘Not at all—but, he’d tell you he’s not here to make friends. He doesn’t want to help and he doesn’t need help. I think he’d get farther in his career if he changed his ways, but I can’t see that happening. Not now, anyway. Apparently, he’s been like this since he was at Depot.’

  ‘Surprised he’s advanced as far as he has, then.’

  ‘He’s advanced because he’s good at what he does, even if he’s a jackass doing it,’ Thomas said. ‘But that’s just his way.’

  ‘Well, glad I don’t have to work with him. Just wish I knew what he was looking into.’

  ‘I’m actually going to be seeing him later. A couple of us are going out for a drink after work. I can try and find out what he’s up to if you want.’

  ‘Really? That would be awesome. I’m not making much headway and I’m probably not supposed to be looking into an inspector in a different unit—even if my supervisor said it’s okay.’

  ‘How is Tuck?’

  ‘Sick. Got one of those man colds that seem to go around this time of year,’ Kulcheski said.

  ‘You know, they’re worse than you think.’

  ‘Sure they are. I should get this,’ Kulcheski said hearing her phone ring.

  ‘No problem. I’ll get in touch tomorrow—let you know if I find out anything,’ Thomas said, getting up. ‘Say hi to Tuck for me next time you see him.’

  ‘Will do. Thanks, Justin,’ Kulcheski said. She answered her phone. ‘Corporal Kulcheski.’

  ‘Oh, hey. It’s Grant. Err, Neil. Sergeant Grant.’

  ‘Hey! How’s it going?’

  ‘Good, good. You?’

  ‘I’m good. Still in the office. What time is it?’

  ‘Almost six. I was calling to see if you were ready to grab a drink.’

  ‘I totally lost track of time. I haven’t even made it home yet. Think we can take a rain check on the drink? I still have to grab a shower and a bite to eat.’

  ‘Oh, sure. No problem. Oh, and I meant to tell you, I stopped by the Rusty Pickle. Pretty nice place. Ended up having some fries and a burger. Stuck around for about an hour and a half or so, but no Wilson. I might give it a try again tomorrow.’