(2012) Cross-Border Murder (34 page)

Gina came back downstairs. She gave me a hesitant look. “Phil wanted to know whether you wanted to come along.” I smiled at Mary and then turned to Gina. “I think I’ll sit this one out.” She nodded. I found myself wishing that she had wanted me to come along. But she didn’t. I shouldn’t have been surprised. From the beginning I had known that she was a very independent young woman. She would not say she needed me unless she did. And right now she clearly didn’t. We heard Phil’s van pull up outside.

“Gina,” Mary said softly, “remember that both you and Francine are more important than seeing that justice is done. Don’t let them involve you any more than you want to be.” She nodded. But as she turned I saw that same,
oh
for
heaven’s
sake,
kind of look she had thrown at me a number of times since we first met. We heard the front door close, then in the distance the door of the van, and then they were gone.

To our growing concern, we heard nothing until Gina and Phil turned up finally in the middle of the afternoon.

“Well?” Mary asked.

“Well, first of all,” Gina said with a frustrating sigh, “the meeting with Leclair started out badly. He was not happy. Before we could explain our plan, he began by telling us that our constant meddling was tantamount to criminal interference with a police investigation. Then, Phil immediately made things worse by saying that at least we had advanced the investigation significantly.”

Phil looked a bit sheepish. He admitted his sense of timing could have been better. “I should have allowed him more time to get over the fact that his investigation had stalled and that we, instead, had made significant progress. I guess I had forgotten what it felt like. He probably has a half-dozen investigations going on at the same time. Ironically that may have been to our advantage in the end.”

I had trouble following Phil’s logic. I frowned. “In what way?”

“If Leclair had been able to put more time into it, he would have got around to questioning Gooden by now. And our plan would have been blown. As it is Gooden probably still thinks that the police believe Naomi’s murder is a gay killing.”

“So how did Leclair react when you explained your plan?” I asked.

Gina grimaced, “the best that can be said is that at first he listened politely. Then he more or less told us to butt out!” Gina turned to her mother. “That’s when Naomi’s friend took over. She seemed even more annoyed than Leclair. She accused him of doing virtually nothing to investigate Naomi’s murder as a gay killing, and then she accused him of being unnecessarily negative to the alternative theory that we had raised. Before we could say anything she told him that she planned to test our theory with or without his co-operation and if it proved true, she would drag his name through the media mud as an incompetent.”

“And how did he respond to that?” Mary asked, intrigued.

“Oh, he counter-punched for a while. But I think he knew that his options were limited. When Phil offered to provide additional support from this private firm of former cops, he began to relent. Finally he said he would consider co-operating, so long as we all agreed that he would make all the crucial decisions.”

Ryan interjected, “I think he secretly agreed with us about Gooden and that the only real way to nail him was to set a trap.”

“So what’s the next move?” I asked.

Gina bit her lower lip. “It’s already been done. We took a quick lunch, worked out what Francine was going to say, and then with a recorder attached to a phone in Leclair’s office, she put through a call to Gooden.”

“And was he there?”

“Oh, yes. We have a copy of the tape for you to listen to.”

And so while Phil made arrangements to hire the necessary support staff Mary and I listened to the tape.

“Professor Gooden please.”

“May I tell him who’s calling?”

“A friend of Naomi Bronson.”

“One moment please.”

(There was a long silence: and then Gooden came on the line.)

“Gooden here.”

“Professor Gooden?”

“Yes.”

“My name is Francine Lemelin. I lived with Naomi Bronson. I believe you may have known her?”

(There was a moment’s hesitation.)

“Yes. I did.” (Another moment of hesitation.) “But I’m afraid it was a long time ago.”

(Francine sounded equally hesitant.)

“Do you know that she was murdered?”

“Yes. I believe I heard it on the news. I was sorry to hear that, of course. Although I did not know her well, I remember her as a nice person.”

“She left everything to me in her will.” (A sigh.) “She meant a great deal to me. She was a wonderful, strong person. I think that is why she was murdered.”

(A pause)

“I’m not sure I understand the connection.”

“Of course not. There is no reason why you should. Naomi and I were very active in the gay/lesbian movement. She became a well-known fighter for gay rights in the French media. In Montreal there have been five gay murders in the last year and a half. She is not the first person to be murdered because she was an outspoken member of the gay community.”

“Ah. Yes. I see.” (A pause.) “And the police, do they agree?”

“The police?” (Francine gave a harsh, bitter laugh.) “The murder of a lesbian, Mr. Gooden, is the last thing they care about!”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” (pause.) “May I ask what is the purpose of this call?”

“Of course! I’m sorry. You see, I came across an envelope in her safety deposit box with your name on it.”

“Oh?” (A pause.) “That’s odd.”

“Is it? I wouldn’t know.”

(Pause.)

“Well, I’m certainly as puzzled as you are. Do you know what’s in it?”

“Yes. Some photos, about twenty or so typewritten pages, and some article you published. Engineering stuff. I don’t know if any of its important. I assumed that maybe you had worked with her late husband at the university?”

“Yes. For a very brief time I was one of his assistants.”

“She must have felt it was important. So I called Winston University and they gave me your number. I thought you might like to have it. If you want I could mail it to your office.”

(Pause.)

“Yes. That would be very kind of you.”

(Another short pause.)

“Trying to go through her papers has not been easy.” (A sigh.) “There was another large file which I haven’t read, but you might be able to help me with it too.”

“Oh?”

“It was in her filing cabinet which she kept in our flat. The file is labeled Professor Bull et al. Whatever that means. I’ve tried to locate Professor Bull. But without success. Would you know how I could reach him?”

“Professor Bull?” (A pause.) He died a number of years ago.”

“Ah, no wonder I haven’t been able to locate him!” (A long pause.) “I can’t just throw the file out. Maybe I’ll have to look through it this weekend and see if there’s someone mentioned in it who might want it.” (A sigh.) “Going through the files of someone one loved is not something one looks forward to.”

“No.” (An empathetic sigh from Gooden.) “I’m sure it isn’t.” (A pause.) “If you want, I could drop by at some point and examine it for you, see if there’s anything worth passing on to any of his former colleagues.” (A pause.) “There may be other files that relate to her former husband. Some may be worth sending to the university’s engineering archives. If my memory is correct, he did do some important work while he was here.”

(A pause.)

“Oh, I hate to impose upon you. But that would be very kind of you. Maybe around the middle of next week? I think I would like to glance through the rest of her personal files first. But I won’t have time to do that until Monday. Unfortunately, I have to go to her cottage this weekend, now that the police have finally finished with it, to pack away some of her personal belongings. Do you still want me to mail that envelope that was addressed to you? I could do that before I leave.”

“Yes, I would appreciate it.” (A soft laugh.) “I must admit I’m curious to see what’s in it!” (A slight hesitation.) “Perhaps it might be easier for you if my secretary had a messenger service pick it up.”

“Of course. But I do want to leave by later this evening or at the latest tomorrow morning. Do you think they could get here today?”

“Oh, yes, I’m sure they could.”

“And thank you again for your offer to help me go through any of her husband’s files that she seemed to have kept, She was never very good at throwing anything out, and of course that Bull file! What a strange name! One that arouses one’s curiosity!”

(A chuckle from Gooden.) “Yes. “Well, then, I’ll expect a call from you next week. Meanwhile let me pass you on to my secretary. She’ll make the necessary arrangements to send a messenger service well before four this afternoon.”

(There was a long pause before the voice of the secretary came on the line. Address details were exchanged. And then the line went dead.)

I let out a deep breath.

“Well,” Gina asked, “what do you think?”

“Amazing!” I said, “truly amazing. That was practically an Oscar performance on her part! She’s not an actress by any chance is she?”

Gina grinned, “she earns her living doing lip-sync translations of American movies into French. That’s why her English is so much better than we thought.”

Mary said quietly, “if Gooden killed Naomi, Francine is now in danger herself.”

“I know.” Gina admitted.

“What precautions are they taking?”

Gina glanced at Phil who had just entered the room. He had made his phone calls, and had returned in time to hear Mary’s concern.

“Leclair has already placed a police officer inside her flat and is sending one to the cottage. I’ve just arranged to post two men around the clock to watch the approaches to both places.” He glanced at his watch. “Once the envelope has been picked up, she will leave the flat and will drive to the cottage. She will leave her car there where she usually parks it, and then will be transported to a friend’s place until the middle of next week.”

“Or so we hope!” Gina interjected, “she seemed pretty determined to stay at the cottage with the police officer and confront Gooden if and when he turns up.”

“She’ll leave,” Phil said, “both Leclair and I will threaten to withdraw all our support if she doesn’t. She’s not that foolish.”

“What if Gooden tries to phone her?” I asked.

“He will encounter her answering machines. We can then decide whether to have her return his calls or not.”

“And what do you expect him to do?” Mary asked.

“We don’t think he will just sit tight and wait for her to call him again next week. We hope he’ll be tempted at the very least to check out the flat sometime tomorrow to make sure she has left. We also hope that once he’s satisfied that it’s empty and that no one is guarding it, he’ll break in to take a quick look through the files.”

“And will he be arrested then and there if he does?” I asked.

Ryan shook his head. “Only if he stumbles over Leclair’s man who will be hidden somewhere in Francine’s bedroom. We want him to leave with the file we’ve planted. Of course, we will have eye witnesses to the break-in, and we hope to take some photos of his doing it with a telephoto lens. The point is that we want him to respond to the false information in Francine’s telephone call.”

There was just a trace of smugness in Phil’s voice. I felt that he was beginning to tempt fate with the complexity of the plan he and Leclair had settled on.

“What false information?” Mary asked, puzzled. I wondered too, because there had been no mention of false information in the original plan.

Phil laughed. “The fact that there is no Bull file to be found in the flat, for one thing. That should make him wonder a bit about Francine and what she’s really up to. We hope he assumes that she has taken it with her to the cottage. But he will also come across a file with Monaghan’s name on it in which there are other copies of his article. We expect him to take that file with him.”

“It’s all designed to tempt him to head for the cottage and Naomi’s friend. We’re hoping that he will use the same covert approach to the cottage we believe he used when he murdered Naomi. And we’ll be there waiting for him!”

“But why not just arrest him at the flat?” Mary asked, “he will be disgraced and discredited. His career ruined at the very least.”

“Because we want to link him to Naomi’s murder,” Phil persisted, “with something more substantial than what we’ve got so far.”

But Mary did not look pleased. “I’m still worried about Francine. I don’t like planting the idea in Gooden’s head that she poses a very serious danger to him.”

“But, as I’ve explained, she won’t be there.” Phil said defensively.

“But what if he doesn’t head for the cottage but decides to wait and deal with her only later when she returns home?”

Phil had been hoping for a more enthusiastic response to what had become a recent and much more complicated twist to the plan. He glanced over at Gina. But she was thoughtfully studying her mother’s face.

“Then we’ll confront him with what we know,” Phil said finally. “And we’ll do it before Francine resurfaces. It will take her out of danger. He can’t go after all of us for knowing as much, if not more, than she does.”

“Good,” Mary said. She smiled, “that’s what I was waiting to hear. I just hope Gooden does not suspect something and somehow finds out where Francine is staying.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
 

At breakfast I think we were all privately concerned with an underlying issue that Mary had touched on yesterday. Gina had wanted to vindicate her father’s memory. But at what price? Like lies and injustice, truth and justice often exact a cost one does not anticipate. Was the risk to Francine Lemelin a part of the price which so far had exacted a murder, a wounding, a suicide, and who knew what else? What choice did we have? To do nothing had its own consequences: passivity, I knew, could also lead only to a limbo of living death. The phone rang in my office.

“I’ve just had a call from Gooden,” Steve Symansky said, “he’s asking for my help.”