The flight left on time, despite the fact it had been snowing heavily all morning. Before takeoff, Penner stared out the window and watched the de-icer spray the wings of the plane. She wasn’t a fan of flying in the best of weather—and this wasn’t the best of weather.
Partway through the short flight, the flight attendants came around with snacks and drinks. Penner decided to have a ginger ale; Kulcheski had a bottle of water. They split their time between chatting and watching television. Penner was careful not to bring up Grant, even though she was dying of curiosity.
An hour and fifty-two minutes after taking off, the plane made a smooth landing in Halifax, Nova Scotia. They disembarked and went into the terminal. Kulcheski went to the washroom while Penner lined up and bought a coffee and a tea. They had a short, thirty-eight minute wait until their connecting flight boarded.
It was a clear day in Halifax—no fresh snow, for a change. The second leg of their flight was smooth except for a short period where they flew through some turbulence. Penner kept her seatbelt on for the entire flight. The smaller, double prop plane made her nervous. In her mind, a plane with propellers wasn’t as safe as a jet plane. She knew it wasn’t true, but it was how her mind worked.
Just a couple of hours after leaving Halifax, the plane made a textbook landing in Goose Bay. They disembarked and went into the small terminal to wait for their bags. Penner was glad to be able to stand up and stretch out. The seat on the plane was comfortable enough, but a little cramped.
Grant had found them a hotel that was only a fifteen-minute taxi ride from the airport. After checking into their double room, Penner decided to have a quick shower before they found something to eat. It was eight forty-five, local time.
The man working the front desk recommended a restaurant that wasn’t too far away, but far enough that a taxi was needed. Even though it was a clear night, it was cold. It was a different type of cold than back home, Penner thought. It seemed to sting a little more.
The restaurant was nothing special—a typical family restaurant with burgers and fries. Penner and Kulcheski both had a beer with their dinner and a slice of chocolate cake with vanilla ice cream for dessert.
They took a taxi back to the hotel and watched television until just after midnight local time, ten-thirty in Ottawa.
The next morning, Kulcheski was the first to get up. She’d had a restless sleep, checking the clock every hour until she got out of bed at seven-fifteen. By the time she had finished having a cold shower, Penner was awake, checking her text messages.
‘Morning. How’d you sleep?’
‘Wasn’t my best sleep,’ Kulcheski said, rubbing her hair with a towel. ‘You?’
‘Same,’ Penner said. ‘I see your boss emailed us both late last night. He’s arranged for a local RCMP constable to come pick us up this morning so we can try and find Gabe—sorry, Jeremy. Still can’t get used to the fact that he lied about who he is.’
‘Yeah, no kidding. What time is he showing up, do you know?’
‘Monk said it would be around nine-thirty,’ Penner said, checking the clock on the table between the two beds. ‘Guess we have a bit of time,’ she said. ‘Think we have time to grab breakfast? That place we were at last night wasn’t too far.’
‘I think so,’ Kulcheski said. ‘Maybe there’s something a bit closer, so we don’t need to take another taxi. That driver we had last night drove like a nut on the way back. I was sure we were going to end up in a ditch.’
‘Yeah, it was a bit hairy at times,’ Penner said. ‘I’ll just splash some water on my face, then we can go see what’s around.’
CHAPTER FORTY
The desk clerk recommended a café that was less than two blocks away. It was an easy walk, but not a pleasant one. By the time they had finished eating and returned to the hotel, they were grateful to be back in the warmth of the lobby. A uniformed RCMP officer was waiting for them in the lobby and stood when he saw them.
‘Corporal Kulcheski?’ he asked.
‘Yes?’ Kulcheski said, unzipping her jacket.
‘Hi. I’m Constable Parker. I was asked to meet you here. Sounds like you could use some help with the case you’re working on.’
‘Perfect. Nice to meet you,’ Kulcheski said, shaking the young man’s hand. ‘This is Detective Penner.’
‘Ottawa Police, right?’ Constable Parker said, shaking Penner’s hand as well.
‘That’s right. Thanks for coming and picking us up,’ Penner said. ‘To be honest, we’re not really sure where we should be going. We know the person we’re looking for has an art studio here in Happy Valley, but we’re not sure where exactly. He lives somewhere called North West River.’
‘No problem. I was able to do a bit of research this morning,’ Parker said. ‘I found a complex that rents out studio space, so I think we should head there first and see what we can find.’
‘That would be great,’ Kulcheski said. ‘I think we’re ready to go.’ She looked at Penner who nodded in agreement. Zipping up their coats, they went back into the frigid morning air. Parker directed them to his patrol SUV. He unlocked the doors, and Penner climbed into the back seat behind Kulcheski. A metal cage divided the front from the back.
‘Sorry there’s not much room back there,’ Parker said. ‘The backseat isn’t really built for comfort.’
‘No worries,’ Penner said.
‘How long have you been with the force?’ Kulcheski asked as Parker pulled out of the parking lot.
‘Almost a year now, ma’am,’ Parker said.
‘Like it so far?’
‘I do. My dad’s a member, so I grew up wanting to join. I remember he would let me put on his red serge and hat when I was a kid. I thought it was the coolest thing ever,’ Parker said, turning at a set of lights.
‘What’s the population here?’ Penner asked. ‘It seems more populated than I expected. Not that I really knew what to expect, to be honest.’
‘Just over eight thousand, give or take,’ Parker said. ‘There were more people here in the early nineties, but the government decided to start cutting back the number of people at the military base, so that really hurt. Shit!’ Parker said, swerving the car into the other lane as a moose came out of the trees and stepped onto the road. Parker returned to his own lane when he was safely past, checking his rear-view mirror to see what the moose would do. It slowly ambled into the woods on the other side of the street. ‘Sorry about that.’
‘That was close,’ Kulcheski said, staring out the back window. ‘Guess you gotta be on your toes, eh?’
‘Yeah. Especially at night,’ Parker said. ‘A moose’s coat doesn’t reflect light at all, so you can come up on one of them without even realizing it. If you’re in a car, it can be a death sentence for both of you. They have such long legs that they end up falling on the hood of the car and coming right through the windshield.’
‘Good thing we’re in this then,’ Penner said.
‘Yeah, I wouldn’t drive a small vehicle here if I could help it,’ Parker said. He pulled into the parking lot of a long, concrete building. ‘We’re here.’
Parker chose a parking spot as close to the door as possible, next to three pickup trucks. Penner tried her door. ‘Hey, Kulcheski! Parker! Somebody’s got to let me out.’
Parker laughed as he opened the back door. ‘Sorry about that! The hazard of sitting in the backseat.’
They walked up a set of concrete steps, opened the heavy, metal door and entered the building. A long hallway stretched the length of the building with windows on one side and closed doors down the other.
‘There’s no directory, so I guess we just start knocking and asking questions,’ Penner said. They walked down the hall and knocked on the first door. They could hear music playing from within the room.
A young girl with long braided hair opened the door. ‘Can I help you?’
‘Hi, we’re looking for someone who we think has a studio here. A painter. Goes by either Jeremy S
lice or Gabe Tootsie,’ Kulcheski said.
‘Sorry. I just started renting this month,’ the girl said. ‘I haven’t had a chance to meet very many of the other people who rent studios here.’
Penner pulled out her phone and brought up the picture she had taken at the gallery. ‘This is him here.’
The girl looked at the photo, then looked at Penner. ‘Looks like you were having a fun time there,’ she said.
‘I was. Now, have you seen this man before?’
‘No, don’t think so. Sorry.’
‘Thanks for your time,’ Kulcheski said. ‘Maybe you should show people the cropped photo,’ she said to Penner as they walked to the next door.
‘Probably,’ Penner said, knocking on the next door. No answer. She tried knocking again, louder this time.
‘I don’t think he came in today,’ a voice said from down the hall. ‘At least I haven’t seen him.’ A man wearing a toolbelt and wiping his hands on a towel walked towards them.
‘Wonder if you can help us,’ Kulcheski said. ‘We’re looking for a Gabe Tootsie or a Jeremy Slice. Know them by chance?’
‘The names don’t sound familiar,’ the man said. ‘Don’t think they rent out any of the rooms here, but they may be subletting a studio. I work with the rental agency in charge of the building.’
‘Oh really? Do you recognize this man?’ Penner showed him the picture. She enlarged it so she was cropped out of the image.
‘Yeah. He works out of number five. What did you say his name was? Gabe or?’
‘Jeremy,’ Penner said, putting her phone away.
‘I’m sure that’s not the name on the rental agreement for number five,’ the man said. ‘I have all the agreements in my office, just down the road. I can go get it if you want.’
‘That would be great,’ Penner said. ‘If you don’t mind.’
‘No, not at all,’ the man said. ‘I’ll just grab my coat and head over there. Should be back in ten minutes.’
‘Do you know if he’s come in today?’ Kulcheski asked.
‘Don’t think so,’ the man said. ‘If you want, you can check. If he’s not there, I can let you in, if you want.’
‘That would be great,’ Penner said. Kulcheski and Parker looked at her. ‘We’ll just have a look around. If we’re being allowed in by the landlord, it’s perfectly legal.’
‘Questionably legal, maybe,’ Kulcheski said.
They followed the man down to door number five. He knocked on the door and it swung open. ‘Guess he didn’t lock up.’
‘Perfect. Thanks for this,’ Penner said, walking into the room. ‘We’ll wait here for you to come back.’
‘Shouldn’t be long,’ the man said.
Penner looked around the small room. It was probably just under two hundred square feet. A small window on one white wall. Paintings hung on every available space with more leaning up against the walls and some stacked on the floor. In the centre of the room was a large wooden easel with a huge canvas that had been partially painted. A table of paints stood beside it.
They walked around the room and examined the different paintings, concentrating on the signatures. Some were signed on the bottom right hand side, others on the left.
‘These three here say Gabe Tootsie,’ Kulcheski said.
‘Same with these ones here,’ Penner said. She looked at one of the paintings. Two black swans with their necks entwined. ‘I really do like his work.’
‘Me too,’ Kulcheski said. ‘Check this out,’ she said, moving a few of the canvases on the floor. Penner walked over to her side.
‘Dante Tootsie. That’s the grandfather,’ Penner said. ‘There’s got to be what, five or six by him? These have to be worth quite a bit. But how did he get them? He’s not actually related to Dante Tootsie.’
‘These ones here are by someone called P. Twain,’ Parker said. ‘Probably eight by him. Or her.’
‘Wait. Did you say P. Twain?’ Penner said.
‘You know him?’ Parker asked, looking at one of the paintings. ‘Looks Haida.’
‘She is. Well, was. She died about five years ago, I think,’ Penner said. ‘I remember my Aunt talking about her when I was young. She was a very influential artist—one of the first female Indigenous artists to have her own show in Toronto. She went on to have a long career. Her paintings are worth a lot of money.’
‘Well then, whoever this guy is, he’s sitting on a cash cow,’ Parker said.
‘Hold on a second,’ Penner said, putting the pieces together. ‘He wasn’t just pretending to be Gabe Tootsie—he was forging other artists’ work, too.’ She walked over to the centre of the room. ‘Look at the one on the easel. This is nothing like his style of painting, but it looks just like those ones over there.’ She picked up one of the similar paintings. ‘B. Cleeves,’ she said.
‘Any idea who that is?’ Kulcheski asked.
‘No clue,’ said Penner.
Kulcheski took out her phone and did a search for the name. ‘Brendan Cleeves. Born in Regina, nineteen forty-two. Died in eighty-six. Wow. There was an auction recently in London, England, where one of his pieces sold for four hundred and fifty thousand pounds.’
‘Pounds? That’s a lot of cash,’ Penner said.
The door swung open. ‘What the hell are you doing in my studio! Oh, shit!’ Jeremy said, seeing Penner. He turned and ran.
***
Parker looked at the door then to Penner. ‘Get him!’ Penner yelled, waving her arms at Parker. She followed him out of the small room and into the hallway. She turned and saw Jeremy running out of the building into the parking lot. He turned to his right and disappeared from her sight.
Parker chased him, flying through the front door and trying his best to gain some ground. Ahead, he saw Jeremy run between two buildings. ‘I’ll follow him. You go straight. He has to come out that way,’ he yelled back to Kulcheski and Penner. He followed Jeremy down between the buildings and watched him jump over a small chain link fence, then turn to follow along the building wall.
Parker climbed over the fence and was yanked back as his coat caught on the wired top. He ripped himself free and continued his pursuit. He could see Jeremy pulling away, getting closer to the end of the building. Suddenly, Kulcheski stepped out from around the corner. Jeremy tried to pivot too quickly. He lost his footing and fell, landing hard on his outstretched arm.
‘Ah, my wrist!’ Jeremy yelled, rolling onto his side and grabbing his right wrist with his left hand.
‘What are you running for?’ Kulcheski asked, kneeling down beside Jeremy. Penner and Parker ran up to them.
‘I need to go to the hospital. I think I broke my wrist,’ Jeremy said. ‘And I’m freezing laying in the snow. Can you help me up?’
‘Here,’ Parker said, putting his arms under Jeremy’s armpits, pulling him to his feet. ‘You have any weapons on you?’
‘No,’ Jeremy said. ‘Just a lighter in my back pocket.’
Parker patted Jeremy down. ‘He’s clean.’
‘So, why’d you run?’ Kulcheski asked again.
‘I need to go to the hospital. You broke my wrist.’
‘I broke your wrist?’ said Kulcheski. ‘I wasn’t close to you when you fell. If you hadn’t run, your wrist would be fine.’
‘Whatever. Please take me to the hospital.’
‘I can take him to the health centre. It’s only ten minutes down the road,’ Parker said. ‘You can come with me, but one of you would have to ride in the back with him. Or I can send someone else to come get you.’
‘We’ve got to wait for the landlord to come back, so why don’t you take him to the hospital,’ Penner suggested. ‘When we’re done here, we’ll get a taxi to the detachment and meet you there when you bring him back for booking.’
‘Booking? What are you talking about? What did I do?’ Jeremy said.
‘Don’t get me started, Gabe,’ said Penner.
‘Come on, let’s go,’ Parker said. He walked Jeremy
back to his car in the studio parking lot. ‘I’ll meet you as soon as I can. The health centre can get a bit backed up at times, but hopefully it doesn’t take too long,’ he said, closing the back door of his SUV.
‘Sounds good,’ Penner said. ‘Thanks.’ She watched Parker pull out of the parking lot. She opened the door to the building and followed Kulcheski in.
‘There you are. I thought you had left,’ the landlord said.
‘Sorry about that. Something came up,’ Kulcheski said. ‘Were you able to find the rental agreement?’
‘I was. Like I thought, it wasn’t signed by either of the people you had mentioned.’
‘Whose name is on the lease, then?’ Kulcheski asked. The landlord passed her the paper. She read the name and looked at Penner. ‘We need to call Ottawa,’ she said, passing Penner the page.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
‘Millar.’
‘Millar, it’s me, Penner.’
‘You’re off to an early start, aren’t you?’
‘Not really, we’re an hour and a half ahead of you here, remember?’
‘Oh, right. I’m terrible with time zones. So, what’s up? How’s the weather?’
‘Freezing. We found Jeremy this morning.’
‘And?’
‘Well, he was just taken to the hospital, so we haven’t talked to him yet.’
‘The hospital? What happened?’
‘He ran when he saw us and slipped. He might have broken his wrist.’
‘Guess he won’t be doing much painting any time too soon, eh?’
‘Probably not. Speaking of painting, we were in his studio. Looks like he’s not only pretending to be Dante Tootsie’s grandson, but he’s also painting pictures and signing them as Dante’s. And other famous dead artists. We haven’t gone through everything yet, but he seems to be running a pretty good counterfeit art ring.’
‘Really? I wasn’t expecting that.’
‘Me neither. It’s crazy ‘cause the guy is really good. He probably could have made a good career for himself if he just painted his own stuff using his real name.’
The Art of Murder Page 20