Final Act (27 page)

“Plenty
- p
ublic panic, newspaper
feeding
frenzy
,
for starters
”
, Gordon said.

“We can’t control how people will react.  Our responsibility is to stop the killer.”

“
I know what
our responsibility is.  You were in diapers when I started in this business.”  He swivelled his chair and looked out the window. 

“Okay.  I’ll make the call.  It doesn’t go outside this room, understood?
”

“Yes
,
understood”, Kate said.

Shirley,
uncomfortable with the tension, moved things along.

“
A few early reports
from the last
nights
door-
to-door
are in.
 
A taxi pulled
up in front of Catherine’s home,
not once, but twice.  One at 2:30pm
, a woman
who lived directly across the street glimpsed a tall person in a black coat get out of the cab and walk up to Catherine’s door. 
She couldn’t s
ay if it was a man or a woman.
The other cab arrived at
4:30pm; the description of that passenger fits Eleanor Sutton.”

“Supports the theory of one killer”, Gordon said.  “Yes, Withers?”

“
Has anyone told them to follow up with the taxi drivers to see if they can get a better description of the first passenger?”

“
I would hope so but c
heck
up
on it will you?”

Withers nodded and left the room.

“
I
t’s the kind of neighbourhood where any suspicious
comings and goings
would be noticed
.
I grew up in the vicinity. I know.

“
Memories of growing up and your n
eighbours turn
ing
you in, Kate?”

No one said a
word;
the last thing they wanted was Gordon’s attempt at humour.  Only two reacted -
Kate glared; Shirley smiled.

“
Okay,
I’ve asked Tom to do an in-depth check into Catherine’s background, there’s DNA under her fingernails, the sister will be interviewed by myself this afternoon, so let’s move on to the interviews you and Shirley had with the theatre troupe.  Anything new?”

“Not really”, Kate said.  “Henry didn’t contribute anything different, he was nervous, but he’s in a new position so maybe that accounts for it.  I came at him from three different angles, but no dice.  Ed has been fired.  Apparently he’s a drinker, things missing from the set, that type of thing.  Shirley’s going to meet with him at his home later day.  Who knows, he might have something interesting to add now that’s he’s no longer employed by the company.  Andrew, the Stage Manager, is hiding something he’s saw or heard but he wasn’t sharing it with me.  I plan on bringing him in for a follow up, sweat him a little.  Over to you, Shirley.”

“The Iron lady’s mask is starting to crack a bit, it was the first time I saw beads of sweat on Eleanor’s brow.  She started getting nervous the harder I pushed about Jeffrey Stone, her relationship with him, her husband, daughter and Catherine. 
The vibe I was getting is that she was getting ready to talk so I gave her my card and encouraged her to call or drop by.  I spoke with Brenda and learned she and her husband met with Jeffrey and Catherine Stone on a social basis, quite chummy in fact.  She alluded to Jeffrey’s roving eye and how devastating it was to Catherine.  Said the last time they got together, the tension was so thick between the two of them that she and her husband left early.  Charlotte had nothing new to add, just the same old complaints about how Stone misunderstood her talent.

“Good, things are starting to shake a bit.  You and Kate need to get back to them as soon as you can.  Catherine was a sympathetic character; maybe they’ll open up even more.
  I understand you have a written report on your visit to G &M Manufacturing, Shirley.  Can you have copies made and circulated to the entire team to read and we’ll meet and discuss it later.
”

“Okay, folks, that’s it for now.
Nose to the grindstones and we’ll get this
s
.
o
.
b
.”

Chapter 14

Roger took in a deep breath of the fresh air,
headed for the nearest corner store and downed a bottle of carbonated water.  Five minutes later, h
e w
as walking towards downtown b
elching in time with his feet, making a bee line for the downtown area where the homeless hang out.  Kate had briefed him late last evening about Catherine’s murder
and it shook him.  Maybe there was substance to Kate’s theory after all.  He decided to do some detecting of his own. 

He pulled at the black eye patch, the damn elastic was too tight, but he shouldn’t complain, he didn’t lose his
vision
in his left eye but it was sensitive to the light, needed more time to heal. 

It felt good to be in the neighbourhood where he first walked a beat.  He was much younger, slimmer and keener in those days
.  Taking the time to
peer into alleyways, smiling at passing pedestrians
, c
ontinuously moving
.
He
owed a lot to this neighbourhood.  They have him his start and helped him grow into a cop.
 

He
was sure the
favourite haunts of the homeless
hadn’t changed over the years
.  He scoured the small parks
,
library benches, and the busy intersections
.  No luck. Tired and feeling a bit wobbly, he was on his way to the cab stand when he spotted a woman sitting on a park bench who matched Kate’s description of Hazel.

She was throwing crumbs at a cluster of pigeons; he took at seat at the other end and hoped his clothes would pass the muster. 
He chose his torn, paint pants, the shirt that was in dire need of a wash, a thin
, stretched
sweater
that hung low in front and high in back. He topped his ensemble off with his old fishing jacket. He didn’t own a pair of
scuffed shoes
.  It broke his heart to take the wire brush to his
suede hush puppies,
finishing them
off
with a sprinkle of water and a roll in the dust.
  

“Strange creatures, aren’t they?”

The faded blue eyes looked into his.  “Not as strange as people.”

“Oh, why do you say that?”

“Cause, unlike people, they mind their own business.  And they’re born entertainers.”

“How so?”

“
They bob and wobble,
take off and land as good as any stunt plane, and they
crap on the public.  They’re athletes as well.  They can fly over 500 miles in a day.  They’ve carried messages since time began. 
The so-called Biblical scholars got it wrong.  Common sense says it had to be a
pigeon, not a dove,
carrying the twig to the Ark.”

“
Not very hygienic are they?  Not like some bird species.”

“I’ve stayed in shelters dirtier than them.”

Seeing the look on her face, he decided to cut to the chase.

“Can I buy you a cup of coffee?
”

“
I
don’t know what you’re looking for
Mr. Polizeeman but a cup of coffee doesn’t buy you much.”

Damn, ruined them shoes for nothing.

“True, h
ow about I pass you a menu as we sip our coffee?”

“Well now, that’s the best bench offer I’ve had in a long time.  Why not?”

The two strolled out of the park and onto the busy sidewalk. 

“Look lad, I wouldn’t go in there if I were you?”

Roger stopped short of entering the restaurant.

“Why not?”

“They don’t care for me much in there.  I know a spot where I’m welcome.”

They walked three more blocks
. 
Hazel opened the door into the drop-in centre.  Roger scanned the room. 
There were o
nly a handful of people
scattered among the tables, drinking coffee out of paper cups. 

Hazel led him to a corner table
. 
Roger
reached into the paper bag and took out the two sandwiches he had bought at a takeout deli.  Eyes in the room watched his hands pulling the food out of the bag.

“Not to worry.  Their bellies are still full from breakfast.  Most of them will be half unconscious with wine by
early afternoon.
  So, what do you have for me?”

“
BLT
on
whole wheat.”

“Sounds
good
”, Hazel said reaching for the sandwich.

They tucked into their sandwiches and not a word was said until they had finished eating.

“I take it you’re looking for information on the woman looking for the hit man.”

“Yes.  How did you know?”

“
Wasn’t hard to figure.

“
So what did this person look like?”

“
Couldn’t say except for the red hair, there was something about the voice though, neutral, could have been a man’s or a woman’s, but it cultured like, you know what I mean – high brow
.
  T
all, thin.  I’m not so good on ages - an
ywhere between 30 and fifty
. 
The bright, red hair
was a wig for sure.  Not even God
himself
would come
up with
a colour like that.”

“What
kind of clothes?”

“
D
ressed down, something like you,
long black coat, one of them black hats pulled down over the forehead – the kind of hats detectives wore in those old black and white movies.”

“Did
the person say who the target was?”

“Nope,
a black man, that’s all. 
You can check with
Old Crow,
he might
know
more than me.”

“
Old Crow?”

“He
hangs out in the park, two benches down from where we sat.  He wasn’t there this morning or I would have invite
d him along.
He told me all about
it.”

“Do you think it was the same
person
who approached you?”

“Yes, for sure it was
,
could tell by the clothes and the hair. 
He said
some names of young thugs he knew, figured it was a hoax.
”

“Do you know those thugs?”

“Of course I do.  They’re conceited snot heads who
swagger
around the neighbourhood putting the scare to ten years old.  They must have tackled someone bigger though.  They’ve been holed up at Taylor Jackson’s home over on Queen for the last week.”

“Excuse me, Hazel, I’ll be right back.”  He headed for the washroom, pulled out his cell and gave Withers the scoop.  He
swore he could
hear the sirens as he made his way back to the table.

“Is there anything else you can tell me
?”

“No.  I can’t think of anything more.”

“I’d like to speak with
Old Crow
.  Do you think you could put in a good word for me?”