A Striking Death (5 page)

twelve

Bookworm was a cheery-looking place located on Queen Street in the older part of York. Drumm stood looking at the outside of the shop with its brilliant yellow exterior, the huge picture of a rather fiendish-looking worm emerging from a bright red apple-shaped book and a crowded display bin on the sidewalk. “Gently Read”, the sign on the bin said, but the volumes inside looked like they had seen better days.

Drumm pushed on the door, which opened with the sound of a tinkling bell, and entered. Inside was bright and cheery too, not at all the dusty and crowded old shop he had been expecting. This store was modern and clean with the books neatly arranged on the shelves. There was a mix of new and used, he could see. He was about to pull a book off a shelf at random when a man emerged from behind a curtain at the back. He was rubbing his hands together as if trying to dry them.

“Morning! Need any help?”

Drumm showed his badge and said, “Detective Sergeant Nicholas Drumm, sir. With the York Police Services. And you are…?”

“Daniel Levine. I’m the owner. What’s this about?” Levine was short and overweight. His welcoming smile had turned into a frown of worry.

Drumm was about to speak when the bell tinkled again behind him and a customer entered, an older woman. He waited while she paid for a book Levine had ordered especially for her. After she had left, he said, “Perhaps you will lock up for a few minutes while we have a chat? In the back? Ten minutes at the most, I promise you.” Drumm was polite but his manner made it clear he expected compliance.

Levine’s frown had returned. He locked the door without comment, turned around a little sign that read, “Back in fifteen minutes”, and switched off the lights. He led the way to the back of the store where there was a washroom and a small office. Levine indicated a chair to Drumm and sat down himself at a desk.

“Now, Detective, what’s this about?”

“I’m with Violent Crimes, sir. I’m sorry to tell you that one of your employees was found dead yesterday morning in his home. Arthur Billinger.”

“Art’s dead?” Levine had an uncomprehending look on his face. “What happened? Was it a heart attack?”

Drumm looked at the bookshop owner carefully. Levine appeared to be genuinely surprised, or maybe stunned was a better word. “No, sir, not a heart attack. The VCU isn’t called in when people die of natural causes.”

Levine looked bewildered. “I’m sorry…VCU?”

“Violent Crimes Unit, sir,” Drumm said patiently. “Mr. Billinger was beaten to death.”

“Beaten to death! But what…how… Who would want to do that?”

“That’s what we need to find out, Mr. Levine. I understand he was employed here?”

“That’s right, Art worked here part-time. Usually Thursday and Friday nights and all day Saturday. More, if I asked him to.” Levine was looking dazed. “You said he was beaten to death? When?”

“Late Monday night, sir. In the wee hours. He was found Tuesday morning by a teacher friend, Cameron Garmand. Do you know Mr. Garmand?”

“I’ve met him a couple of times, yes. Tuesday morning? He has coffee on Tuesdays with Cameron.”

Drumm resisted the urge to say, “Not any more, he won’t.” Instead, he said, “That’s right. Mr. Garmand was the one who called 9-1-1.” After a pause when Levine didn’t say anything more, Drumm asked, “How long had he worked here?”

Levine spoke slowly, almost as if he were in a trance. “About five years. Ever since he retired, really.”

“He was a teacher, I understand?”

“That’s right, a French teacher.” Still speaking slowly.

“Teachers get good pensions, Mr. Levine. Why would he work here? Surely he wouldn’t need the money?”

Levine was shaking his head. He was regaining his composure, Drumm could see. “No, he didn’t need the money. Not that I paid him much anyway, just minimum wage. But he wanted to keep busy. And a bookstore suited him. He was a literate man. But…you say he’s dead?”

“I’m sorry. I know it’s a shock. How did you two meet?”

Levine’s eyes shifted away from Drumm, then back again. “We met in a bar. Years ago, that was.”

A suspicion had been growing in Drumm’s mind; he wondered if it was correct. “Which bar was that, sir? Do you remember?”

“I should, Detective, I still go there occasionally. Danny’s. On Fifth Street.”

Drumm’s suspicion was confirmed. Danny’s was a gay bar. Drumm had been there a couple of times. It was a combination bar and restaurant with a small dance floor, a place where gay men could hang out together. Drumm recalled seeing a drag show the last time he had been there. It was known to the police but it wasn’t a trouble spot. There were rarely any problems at Danny’s. Levine was looking at him, waiting.

“What kind of relationship did you and Mr. Billinger have then, Mr. Levine?”

Levine sat back in his chair. “We were lovers, Detective.”

thirteen

Lori Singh and Detective Dick had finished the second canvass of the neighbourhood. She had done one side of the street, he the other. Lori had finished first, and was forced to wait for some time while McDonald completed his assigned houses. Whenever she looked for him, he seemed to be engaged in animated conversations with Arthur Billinger’s neighbours. Just now, for example, a middle-aged woman was laughing at something the detective had said.

McDonald finished with her and came down the driveway, shooting Lori a little wave as he did so. He seemed to be in a good mood.

Lori waited until he was right up to her before she asked, “Get anything?”

McDonald took the time to get another cigarette into his mouth before answering. “Love, I didn’t get diddly. Had some nice chats, though. I was quite taken with that sheila there.” McDonald indicated the woman with whom he had just been talking. “Left her my card. Maybe something will come of it, you never know.”

“Do you mean with the case? Or with her personally?”

“Oh, the case, love,” McDonald said. “Definitely the case. Although she
is
living alone, it seems. How about you? Did you get anywhere?”

“Bailey’s story seems to be true, at least as far as it goes.” She consulted her notebook. “I found two neighbours who saw him come home around eight-thirty last night. Mr. Drummond at number forty-two was walking his dog and saw his truck arrive. And Mrs. Krawcyk, number thirty-eight, looked out through her curtains and saw his truck sitting on his driveway around the same time. So we know he came home when he said he did. But if he went outside again and over to Billinger’s house, nobody I talked to saw him.”

“Same here,” said McDonald. “Nobody saw anything. As usual.”

“So I don’t know if we’re any further ahead or not,” said Lori. “He was home but we don’t know whether or not he stayed home, do we? He could have slipped out the back and killed Billinger in the middle of the night. Nobody would have seen him. We haven’t learned much.”

“Oh, I don’t know, love. I’ve learned a great deal about
you
. That’s progress, isn’t it?”

“Not exactly what I meant.” Lori sighed. “Are you always this annoying?”

“Not always, love, no. But usually.” And McDonald gave her a sunny smile.

fourteen

Levine had been waiting for him to ask that, Drumm thought. “You were lovers? For how long?”

Daniel Levine was looking at him unwaveringly. Even proudly, Drumm thought. “Off and on for about four years. More on than off.”

Drumm studied the man. He wasn’t much to look at, dressed rather carelessly in baggy brown pants and a dark green cardigan buttoned over a brown dress shirt. He was about five feet six, Drumm guessed, and weighed maybe two twenty. Glasses and thinning brown hair completed the picture of an elderly bookshop owner. Drumm would not have recognized him as gay, nor as anyone’s idea of a love object. It took all kinds, he thought, and he had been in the detective business long enough to know that people often weren’t what they seemed.

“How old are you, Mr. Levine?”

“Fifty-four. And you’re wondering what Art saw in me. Correct?”

Drumm hid his surprise. “Not at all. But Arthur Billinger was seven years older than you. The age difference wasn’t a problem for you two?”

“It never bothered us, no. We never even thought about it. At least, I didn’t. Certainly we never talked about it.”

“So you were lovers for four years or so. And you met at Danny’s. How did he come to work here?”

“We struck up a friendship at Danny’s. That’s all it was at first, a friendship. We got to know each other better, and then we began a relationship.” Levine paused; he was looking unhappy.

“I know this must be hard for you, Mr. Levine. But please carry on. A relationship? Sexual, you mean?”

“Yes.”

Drumm nodded. “Go on.”

“I enjoyed Art’s company and he was looking for something more to do. It was natural that he start working here. I only needed somebody part-time; I don’t do enough business to keep two people employed. It’s a struggle to make
any
money, actually. Well, Art was happy with minimum wage. I offered him more but he wouldn’t take it. He didn’t need the money, but I would have paid him more gladly. But he wouldn’t accept it.”

Drumm sat back in his chair, thinking. Then he said, “You were lovers, you said? Were you in love then, or was it just casual?”

“Love?” Levine smiled sadly. “I’m not even sure what that means. We got together frequently. We enjoyed each other’s company.”

Drumm asked, “You have your own place, sir?” At Levine’s nod, Drumm went on. “Why didn’t the two of you live together?”

“We’d talked about it, and it might have happened one day. But Art wasn’t ready. He is – was – a private man. He didn’t want anyone to know about us, especially in his neighbourhood. So he stayed in his home and I kept my place. Even when we were at Danny’s, he was discreet.”

Drumm thought about this. “So, where did you get together then?”

“Usually at my house. Rarely at his. And only then if it was late at night. Maybe if we’d been out to a late movie and it was nearer to his house, then we’d go there. But that didn’t happen often. He was too paranoid. He hadn’t come out, and he said he never would. I guess he won’t now, will he?”

Drumm ignored this. “You wanted him to announce publicly he was gay, Mr. Levine?”

“I did, and I wasn’t best pleased that he wanted to keep us secret. Sometimes I thought he was ashamed of me. We talked about it sometimes, but I had to accept how he felt about it. I didn’t want to lose him.” Levine looked down at the floor. Then he looked up. “And now I have.”

Drumm said, “I’m sorry for your loss, sir. Have you any idea who would want to harm him?”

Levine shook his head. “No.”

“Was there anyone that he’d had an argument with? Disagreement?”

“No, not that I know of.”

“Did he talk about anybody at all? Was he worried about anything?”

Levine was shaking his head to all the questions. “He was perfectly happy as far as I knew.”

“And when did you see him last, Mr. Levine?”

Levine looked away, thinking. “That would have been Saturday night. We went to see a movie at the Cineplex.”

“I thought you said Mr. Billinger worked here on Saturdays.”

“He did, yes. But the store is only open until 5:30. I don’t get much business late in the day so we close early. I met him here at closing and we went out for dinner and then the movie.” Levine blinked his eyes rapidly. “We did that often.”

Drumm recorded in his notes the name of the restaurant and theatre address and then asked, “And Monday night, sir? You understand I have to ask? Where were you?”

Levine nodded. “I know. I was at home. I worked here until six, closed up and went home and made myself dinner. Watched some TV and went to bed about ten.”

“Did you call Mr. Billinger that night?”

“Monday night? No. No, I don’t think so.”

“Was that unusual?”

“What, not to call him? No, it wasn’t unusual. We talked most days, but not every day. He had other things going on in his life, other people.”

Was Levine sounding a bit resentful? Drumm thought he was. “Did that bother you, Mr. Levine? That he had other people in his life, I mean?”

“Of course not. We knew where we stood with each other.”

But Drumm thought he was lying. “Who are these other people you mentioned?”

Levine looked at his watch. “Detective, can this wait until another time? You said a few minutes, and it’s been nearly half an hour. I have to open up the store again; I’m losing business.”

Drumm apologized. “Sorry, I didn’t realize how long we’d been.”

Levine was moving towards the front of the store where an older couple could be seen waiting outside. “I don’t mean to be unhelpful, Detective, but I don’t know much about Art’s other friends. You could ask Cameron Garmand, though; he might know more.”

But Drumm thought Levine
did
know about Billinger’s other friends. And the bookstore owner didn’t want to talk about them.