Murder At Lake Ontario Read online

  ‘No Match.’

  “What the hell?” Eckhart fell into a chair. She locked eyes with Gibson. He nodded once. “Ah, crap. We have to set him free. Right?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Gregory?” Frenchy ventured.

  “Yeah. We needed the print to be Gregory’s if we wanted to proceed any further with him.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad.”

  The technician shuffled into his corner after bearing the brunt of the blame. Frenchy moved to a microscope, twirling a knob, recalibrating the instrument.

  “We’ll get back to work,” Cooper said as he slipped away with Jones following close behind.

  “Let’s go to your office and figure out our next move,” Gibson suggested.

  They headed down the hallway. Eckhart sat in her chair, shuffling objects around on the top of her desk. Gibson took a seat in front, plunking himself into the supple leather. The smell of newness was set free as he settled his weight into its softness. He felt like a nap. With Gregory’s release, the alternatives were daunting. He considered the repercussions of murder. Always more than one casualty. The loved ones left behind hurt, passing through the stages of mourning, to hate and even revenge.

  “Todd?” It was as if she had read his mind. “I can’t accept that.”

  “We have other suspects too.”

  “Who? Anatoe? Mr. Tatlow?”

  “And Felton,” Gibson said.

  “He can barely walk.”

  “True, but we can’t rule out anyone now.” Gibson got up and stood by the window, gazing at the blackened clouds. He moved back. “We’ll begin with Todd,” he said after merely a second’s hesitation.

  “Oh, boy.”

  A muffled ring sounded. Eckhart glanced about the office. The squawk came from the corner. “It’s the landline.” She jumped out of her chair and yanked open the middle drawer of a filing cabinet. Another chirp.

  “Eckhart.” She tugged at the tangled debris of cord and returned to her desk. “Yes, sir.” She planted her elbow on top and leaned into the phone, nodding in acknowledgement. “We’ll stick around.” The line went dead.

  “That was the superintendent. He’s on his way.”

  “I need a coffee.” Gibson stifled a yawn with his hand.

  “Maybe the vending machines are functioning now. I heard some guys in the cafeteria.”

  “I’ll go see.” He surged to his feet and walked down the hallway. Cooper was on his hands and knees in the reception area. “What are you doing?”

  Cooper looked up and thumped his skull on the side of the counter. “Ouch.” He squatted back on his heels and smoothed the spot, a smirk passing over his features. “Connecting cables for the printer. Everything should work today.”

  “Great. What’s Jones doing?”

  “He went to get us a coffee. A team arrived to set up the cafeteria a few hours ago.”

  “That’s where I’m headed.”

  “So, Gregory’s out. What should we be doing?” Cooper stood up.

  “You have the most important task. Maintaining the files,” Gibson answered.

  The constable screwed up his snout.

  “There wouldn’t be any convictions without chronological records. The Crown Attorney will cherish you.” Gibson flashed him a quirky smile.

  “What’s up?” Jones asked as he sauntered in, putting two cups and several muffins on the desktop.

  “Going for a coffee. Rodney is coming over,” Gibson answered.

  When he returned, both DCs were on the floor tearing at the wires. He stepped into the office. Eckhart was on the phone. She held up a finger. Gibson sat and sipped on his latte.

  “It’s Brandon.” She handed over the phone.

  “Hello. Eckhart told you the news.” Gibson listened and responded, “Yes, we’ll call them right now.” He tossed the cell back. “Better get Gregory’s release okayed.”

  She made a few more calls. A slapping of boots down the hallway alerted them to the superintendent. He swung into the room and plopped into a chair. It squealed with the onslaught. He tugged at his collar and cleared his throat. “So, we finally run the print and Gregory’s out. No hit at all.”

  The two detectives shook their heads. Eckhart squirmed.

  “What do we have?” he asked.

  She offered him what they had. Nothing but suppositions and rumours. No concrete evidence.

  “So, what now? We wait for someone to confess?” the superintendent said.

  “We pound the pavement,” Gibson replied.

  “How much longer are you here?”

  Gibson realized it was coming. Should he commit? He fidgeted uncomfortably. “Till the end of the weekend.” Eckhart leaned in her chair and stared out the window.

  “Better get at it.”

  At the door, the superintendent looked back. “Thanks for your assistance.” He marched out.

  “Ready?” Gibson pitched his paper cup into the garbage pail.

  “Yup.” She left hers on the desk still half-full.

  * * *

  The drive to Lawsons Lane was uneventful. Eckhart refrained from drumming on the steering wheel. Gibson sprawled out and stared out the side window. The tires hummed over the grate on the bridge. He appreciated the mesmerizing sound. No ships in either direction, but in the far-off distance, a trail of black smoke drifted from Lock Two in the south. She veered left at the final intersection.

  “Take us to the beach access first.”

  Eckhart flipped him a quizzical expression, lines appearing between her eyebrows. She drew to the grassy shoulder at the end of the lane and clicked off the ignition. They remained for several minutes. He looked at the landing, not disclosing his thoughts. The Expedition creaked as the motor cooled down. Finally, he glanced at Eckhart and said, “We don’t have a handle on the motive yet. What about opportunity?”

  Eckhart smoothed her hair from her forehead and faced him. She forced her lips together, sick of going over and over the same material. “We know Anatoe was there. And Mr. Tatlow.” She paused. “What are you thinking?”

  “There was one other individual there?”

  “Who?”

  “David,” Gibson said.

  “Oh, I suppose.”

  “He told us he was.”

  “Yeah.” Eckhart tucked her legs up and wiggled around until she confronted him full on.

  “So, if we accept Anatoe went back to the house and Mr. Tatlow left…” Gibson said, pausing for effect. “Did David return to the party? Or did he follow Elsie down the steps? Did he have time?”

  Eckhart gasped. “Whoa. But here comes the why again.”

  “Why? If we could answer that…” Gibson trailed off and shifted in his seat. “No. Let’s stick with Todd for the time being. We should find out what kind of person Elsie was. Todd cheated on her. And where was he during the fireworks? There’s more to understand.” He swivelled back. They locked eyes. Her deep pools of blue still haunting him, but losing ground.

  Eckhart fired up the truck, made a one-eighty and headed to the top of the lane. The store looked desolate and uncared for. Gibson went down the path with his thoughts in a muddle. Eckhart’s springy step was gone as well. Todd’s vehicle sat in the driveway, a film of dirt glued to the windshield. Todd answered the door dressed in rumpled polyester pants and a pale blue shirt. He crept down the corridor to the living room with his slippers flopping, flinging dust bunnies along the baseboards. The pallor of his skin had altered somewhat, two pecks of pink showed on his cheeks. He hurled himself onto the couch and sunk into the cushions. “The funeral is in a few days.” He held back the tears, lashes stuck together from crying. His gesture swept the room.

  “What’s this all for?”

  Gibson sat in a chair by the unlit fireplace. Eckhart settled into a spot adjacent to Todd. The clicking of her fingernails echoed throughout the space.

  “Did you murder Elsie?” Gibson saw no other course. The abruptness made Todd thrust back in
to the seat.

  “What? No. I thought they arrested Gregory.”

  “We’ve released him,” Gibson said. “Did you—”

  “How could you suggest that?” he cut in. A solitary tear rolled from his inflamed eyes and slid down to his chin. He swept at it absently. There was an ache to his stillness, his hands clenching into fists. No sound left his trembling lips, just the heaving of his chest as he fought for air.

  Gibson locked his smoky greys onto Todd’s lifeless eyes. Eckhart cringed. Here it comes. She clamped her mouth as Gibson spewed the nasty.

  “We met Josephine. JoJo, if you like.”

  Todd’s ears rang hollow. The room dimmed. He descended into its fervor. It spat him out, hurling him into the outstretched arms of his betrayal. His lie exposed. He blinked. More tears traced down his colourless face, the two spots of pink having fled.

  “It’s—” Eckhart began, but was instantly shut down by a glower from Gibson. She covered her mouth and watched grief destroy the man.

  Gibson’s face stiffened into a somber expression. He delayed. The pit-bull inside him fixed to bark, to bite.

  “Todd,” he said sharply.

  Todd rubbed at his forehead. His gaze flitted around the room. His mouth twitched. “It was just once. A mistake.” He groaned.

  Gibson let the silence linger. The pit-bull put his hackles down.

  “I went to Grimsby to confront Anatoe,” he finally said, raising his head, mournful eyes beseeching.

  Gibson remained distant.

  “I wouldn’t hurt my wife. I love Elsie,” Todd said.

  “Did she find out about your adventure?”

  “No.” He winced at the remark.

  “What happened when you didn’t call up or come home?”

  “I phoned her.” His voice lifted an octave higher. He blathered on. “I told her I’d had too much to drink and couldn’t drive. I would stay with a cousin of Anatoe.”

  “How did that go over?” Gibson pushed. “Elsie detested Anatoe.”

  “Not real well.” Todd collapsed into himself, hands massaging his thighs.

  “So, no argument when you made it home?”

  “No. I brought her chocolates. Her favourite.” He wept softly.

  “You told us you weren’t at the fireworks. Where were you?” A clipped voice spat out the question.

  “I was at the store. I already told you.” Todd paused. “Doing the books. I never saw Elsie. I arrived at the party, but she was gone.”

  Back to Grimsby. “What did you tell Anatoe?” Gibson asked next.

  “What? When?”

  “When you went to Grimsby.”

  “I needed Anatoe to leave Savannah alone. He wasn’t good enough for her.”

  “Okay,” Gibson said.

  “And to quit jeering at my wife. She’s not fat.” Todd stifled the next sob.

  “Did you threaten him?”

  “No.”

  “Did you know Anatoe overheard the quarrel between you and Elsie that afternoon?”

  Todd’s eyes sprung wide, further tears tumbled out.

  “You were yelling.”

  Todd shook his head in denial.

  Gibson pressed his lips into a frown. Eckhart stared at the ceiling.

  “Elsie was spreading hearsay again. Still. I’ve told her a thousand times to stop.” He gagged on his words.

  “Who was she talking to?”

  “Jackie. I wasn’t lying about that.”

  “I understand. So their chatter was more than a happy-to-see-you.”

  Todd nodded.

  “What was it about then?” Gibson wanted clarity.

  “It was about Gregory and his release from prison. That part was true, but she said he would do it again. She should have left it alone.” He drew his breath in. “Gregory was another guy Elsie didn’t care for. Guess nobody was good enough for her little sister. I didn’t know then that Savannah liked Gregory.” He shrugged. “It’s Savannah’s mistake, not my problem.”

  “Is that all you heard?”

  “Yeah. Elsie went on and on about it. I warned her gossiping would get her into trouble one day. She...” Todd choked.

  “Who else was in the store?”

  “I’m not sure. Oh, Mr. Tatlow came in at his usual time.” He stopped. “There was a crash. Okay. I told you that.” Todd was getting confused. “That’s all I know. I’m not lying.” Shame and anger burned in his heart. He filled the vacuum with heaving sobs for his new reality. He didn’t try to check the burst dam, but let his grief surge into a roaring river, sweeping everything in its path.

  Gibson pointed his chin at Eckhart. Her legs buckled when she stood, besieged by Todd’s misery. He grabbed at her arm. No electricity passed this time. Relief rushed through him. An easy smile flitted across his lips. Eckhart tugged at her hair. “I’m okay.”

  They slipped out of the house, anguish following them down the sidewalk into their own fears.

  * * *

  The walls were greyer than yesterday. Or was it his mood? Gregory turned on the flimsy mattress, crushed by his hefty frame, cold seeping into his bones. He opened and closed his eyes. No. Still in the hellhole. Breakfast was regurgitating in his throat. He swallowed to keep it down. The damn phone had sounded all night. The lights strobed in the corridor. Even the sweater stretched over his face didn’t stop the incessant flicker. Reggie had been nice, but he was nevertheless in lockup. Four days, three nights, seventy-four hours... at a guess. Keys jangled from a tight belt around a loose body. Shuffled footsteps. Other shoes, hurried ones, clicked on the linoleum. Gregory sat up, nudging aside the useless blanket. He clawed at his itchy arms. Was it lunch already? Two smiling faces peeped through the bars. A guard moved up from behind, sifting through a ring of keys. With a broad indication of his hand, he held up the one that would give Gregory his freedom.

  Brandon smirked. Reggie put a finger to his lips. Silence. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Gregory jogged down the long hallway and out into the sunshine, squinting his eyes against the welcome assault. He howled. “Is it over?”

  “Yes.” They hopped into Reggie’s Range Rover and flew away.

  Chapter 16

  Savannah sat cross-legged in the midst of the marram grass that topped the dunes, listening to the lullaby of waves breaking on the shore below. The sun began the morning with flashes peeking from the east. It had risen higher now, the brilliance and warmth scattering through a navy sky. A sandspit ran out and reached for the shoreline across the modest basin. A lighthouse, solitary and abandoned, dazzled white against the placid water, paler blue than the dome above. Dogs frolicked down the beach flicking sand behind their rushing paws. Owners whistled and barked to rein them in. Not likely. Savannah laughed at their antics.

  Gregory scampered up the path from his father’s property adjoining the waterfront. The bluff overlooking the lake encapsulated his fondness of nature. He inhaled the tang of faraway continents. Savannah waved him over from her partial screen behind the tallest grasses. He hurried over, his footsteps sinking in the silky sand, and hunkered down beside her. Beyond, the coast rendered a thin, dark line. In the clean light of the morning, they could see black skyscrapers battling the smog. Farther in the distance, the land swooped out of view.

  Savannah loved this beach. She struggled not to think about Elsie lying lifeless at the bottom of the steps. Whatever the evil was, she was resolved it would not take away all she cherished. She glimpsed at Gregory. His strong jaw and passionate eyes carried a pledge of integrity. She knew he grappled with his loss of freedom. Savannah forced back the tears of her own grief for her sister.

  * * *

  The hiss of traffic obscured the strangled ringing. Jackie paused and tipped her head, trying to distinguish the noise. The landline. She tripped over the last step and bounded to the landing. After a harried rummaging in her purse, she plucked out a loop with too many keys attached. As she fumbled to get the correct one, the high-pitched sound c
eased. “Oh, shit.” She squared her shoulders and stuck the key into the lock. The phone spat out another round of annoyance. She elbowed the door wide, banging it against the wall and raced down the corridor. What could be so urgent?

  “Hello,” Jackie answered somewhat stiffly, almost insolently.

  “It’s your mother. Your dad is in the hospital. He’s had a heart attack.” Her mother’s strained speech snapped out the words.

  “Will he be all right?” She put her palm on her chest. Fear stabbed at her ribs and made her mouth parched.

  “Just get here.”

  “Okay,” Jackie said.

  “Good.” Her mom hung up before she could respond.

  Jackie slid into the recliner, still clinging to the dead phone and wept. Frustration boiled into a quiet rage. She pounded her fists on her thighs and booted the coffee table. A thin laughter whistled through her pinched lips. She sagged further into the cushion, running her fingers along the frayed piping. The bitterness ebbed as she worked the fabric. She let the rise and fall of her chest slow her breathing. Time to make a move. She rose and marched to the home office. With a few clicks on the keyboard, she booked herself on an overnight flight. Although they had been back a number of days, Jackie hadn’t unpacked her suitcase so she threw in some clean underclothes and a toothbrush. As she snapped the lid shut, she heard a rattle. That would be David coming home from work. Jackie had one last look around, grabbed her bag and dashed to the front. David stepped back, startled as someone snatched the door from his grip. She wavered in the entryway, soft strands of hair swept past an ear. Her dark lashes brimmed with silvery tears. A case stood by her side.

  “I have to go.”

  “What?”

  “Tonight. Now. My dad.”

  Jackie pushed past him with the bag in hand. David locked the door and rushed to catch up. It was a quick trip to the airport on newly paved roads. The glass and concrete building reflected light from a sun perched at the tip of the central airstrip, just about to dip below the mountains. They sprinted from the short-term parking to the entrance. There was barely anyone in the terminal. Jackie hoped she hadn’t missed her flight. At the counter, she turned toward David and threw him a kiss.