When the Killing Starts (32 page)

"Did he tell you anything? I mean, like why he was trying to take me away in that boat?"

"Revenge," I said, and the ugliness of the thought burned me. "He wanted to get at me, not you. If it hadn't been for me, none of this would have happened."

She sat and drank her tea, not looking at me, and I raised one hand helplessly. "I'm so sorry about this, Fred. I've been alone for a long time, and I didn't expect what I do would affect anybody else. I've got to get out of this line of work."

She set her cup down and said, "Not for my sake, Reid. But how much longer can you keep on being lucky? When will somebody like him hurt you? Maybe kill you."

"It isn't like this very often," I said.

She pursed her lips and stared me down. "I've heard you say that before," she reminded me. I sat helplessly, returning her look as gently as I could.

"I'm sorry, babe, it's the only way I know to earn a living."

Then she got up and came over and put her arms around me. "I love you, Reid. I don't want some policeman knocking on my door telling me that somebody like that man in there has hurt you."

I held her tight, patting her back with my fingers. It was good. I hadn't realized how much I wanted someone like her close to me.

I kissed her hair, and slowly she turned her face, and we kissed properly. And then I heard the rushing of wheels on the gravel outside. We let go of one another and stood up and looked out the window. An ambulance was pulling in with an OPP cruiser behind it.

Fred opened the door, and I beckoned the guys inside. The ambulance men were carrying the stretcher, and when Wallace saw it, he snarled. "I can walk, dammit. You call this a wound?"

The ambulance driver was thirtyish and macho, chewing gum as he spoke. "It's your ass," he said.

Wallace swung his feet down off the couch and tried to stand. He buckled, and the second ambulance man tried to help him, but Wallace shoved him away. "I'll do it."

The supervisor looked at the hooks in his cheek. "Got yourself good," he said cheerfully. "Third time this week I've had guys with hooks in." Wallace ignored him and stood up.

The assistant hovered behind him as he walked out to the ambulance, and I briefed the OPP man. "His name's Wallace. He's charged with abduction, attempted murder. He hasn't been cautioned, and he's tough. Go with him and stay on your toes. He's bad news."

The constable was young. Most of his experience so far had been picking up pieces of people after highway accidents. He whistled in surprise. "Who'd he try to murder?"

"Me. Fired a couple of shots at me from a handgun. He was in the act of abducting this lady at gunpoint, and I turned up."

The guy swung toward Fred like a flower turning to the sun. "When did this happen, miss?"

"Minutes ago," she said. "Shouldn't you be out there with him? He's dangerous."

He wanted to impress her, so he started to unbutton his shirt pocket to take out his book. I reached out and held his wrist. "Your detectives have already seen him. Just caution the guy and watch him. We're making a statement later to Sergeant Kennedy or Sergeant Werner."

He recovered and said, "Yeah, sure," then to Fred, "You sure you're all right?"

"Perfectly. Thank you." She paid him off with a gorgeous smile, and he backed out of the doorway, beaming.

Fred stood next to me, and I put my arm around her as we watched the young cop climb into the back of the ambulance and sit facing Wallace, who had given up now that his gesture had been made and was lying on the stretcher. The assistant slammed the back door, and the ambulance left. Fred turned to me. "You didn't finish your tea," she said.

"Sounds good." I gave her a squeeze and then let her walk ahead of me into the kitchen. She threw out my part cup and refilled it from the pot.

"What now?" she asked as she handed it to me. She said it briskly, but I was sad to see how her usual buoyancy had been punctured. I felt guilty and angry at Wallace.

"I'm going to phone Toronto and tell Elmer Svensen all the details; then I guess we should go over to the hospital at Parry Sound and make statements. Then it's over and we can go on with our holiday."

"Promise?" she asked solemnly, and I nodded.

"Promise. I don't care if the police station burns down, we're going to take off on a trip, anywhere you want to go."

"Anywhere except Saskatchewan." She laughed. "I've never seen so much damn sky in my whole life. Not a tree, not a building, just flat land and sky forever."

I patted the couch beside me, and she came and sat, carrying her own teacup. "So what happened? One minute I'm talking to you and everything's fine, the next thing they've folded. What fell apart?"

"It was the producer's fault. He was so damn anxious to get the film under way that he took somebody's word that the extra money was going to come in."

"A verbal promise isn't worth the paper it's printed on," I reminded her, and she laughed.

"Yeah, I've heard that before. It's a Goldwynism, right?"

"Accurate, by the sound of it." I reached out my left hand and took hers, and she gave me a squeeze. "I'm sorry about what happened. I didn't think you were anywhere close."

"Forget it," she said. "It's good to be back despite the welcoming committee."

She was relaxing again, and I watched her with pride, as if I'd been responsible for it. She's a woman in a thousand, an actress who didn't bother dramatizing an event most people would dwell on forever. She would have made a hell of a good policewoman.

We sipped our tea companionably for a moment, and then the phone rang, shattering the mood. I set down my cup and took the phone. It was Elmer Svensen.

"Reid, glad I caught you. Is Wallace still there?"

"No, the ambulance just took him away, up to Parry Sound Hospital."

"Damn." Svensen clicked his tongue against his teeth. "I want to ask him some questions."

"He likely wouldn't answer. He clammed up tight after he told me about Dunphy. Any luck finding him?"

"No. A guy answering his general description was registered at the Plaza under another name, Brady. Yeah, that's it. Anyway, he checked out this morning. Paid in American dollars. I've got a couple of uniforms up there, but I don't expect to see him again."

"Wallace probably knew he'd gone. Listen, one big piece of news. The kid's father, Michaels, he's tied into Dunphy some way. You should talk to him."

"Tied in how?" Svensen asked, and he listened carefully while I gave him what Wallace had told me, about the training and turning the son into "officer material."

"I think I'll get someone checking the old man's business," Svensen said. "It's hard to get a handle on it. The original company is a mining outfit, but he's changed. The Mountie I checked with says he's into 'a bit of this, bit of that' kind of stuff. Nothing we can pin down, but the Mountie thinks he might be involved with arms dealing."

"That makes sense. It would explain the Mexicans hanging around, Guatemalans, whatever."

"Did you think they could be Cubans?" Svensen asked.

I whistled. "No, I didn't. But they acted tough enough to be trained men, and the Cubans train their guys well."

"Complicated, isn't it?" Elmer said, and I nodded automatically. "I'm putting a couple of guys out at Buttonville Airport, at the Michaels company jet. Maybe the guy is going to head out from there, maybe even take Dunphy with him."

"Be smart to have some Emergency Task Force backup," I said. "Dunphy is tough, and he's a pro. If he gets ugly, a couple of shiny-faced detectives won't stand a chance."

"I'll take it up with the inspector," Svensen said. "Are you going to the hospital?"

"Yeah, we'll have to make statements. I can talk to Wallace if you want. What did you want to know?"

"The usual, I guess," Svensen said. "Where he was the night those two women were killed. Where he and Dunphy were headed so we can get the boys at the other end to pick up Dunphy. And see if you can get the OPP to get clearance for a blood typing in case it was him did that rape."

"I'll do my best, but he's cagey, and he won't want to tell me much. I stuck two hooks of a Daredevle spoon in his cheek."

"Should've been his ass," Svensen said cheerfully. "Anyways, just so you stopped him, I don't care how. Listen, Burke is coming up there. Turn Wallace over to him. He's good at interrogations. Won't harm a hair on him, just wear the bastard down."

"Good. As soon as I've turned him over, I'm heading out with Fred." I didn't bother telling him about Fred's involvement. He had enough on his mind right now.

"She back? Good news. Now you can have a real vacation," Svensen said. "Talk to you later," and he hung up.

Fred was looking at me, smiling. "Did you mean it, about taking off somewhere? Someplace they can't find you?"

"Promise," I said. "Somewhere quiet where we can start planning to make an honest woman of you."

She laughed. "Damn, and I was just getting used to living in sin."

"This is sinful?" I asked her, and kissed her.

"Must be," she murmured. "It isn't illegal or fattening."

I laughed and helped her up. "Let's go, lady. One more hour of talk and we're free as a breeze."

"You've told me that before," she said. "Let's hope you're right for once."

 

 

 

TWENTY-TWO

 

 

We had a pleasant ride to Parry Sound. The highway runs close to the shore of Georgian Bay, passing over inlets and little lakes where early-morning fishermen were sitting in boats spinning for the big smallmouth bass that often surprise you this time of year. Hawks were starting to gather for their flight south, sitting on the phone wires beside the road, and the cottonwoods and birches were edging from green to gold.

Fred didn't say a lot. She sat back and enjoyed the view, reaching across every now and then to squeeze my hand. Sam lay on the back seat with his head down. I didn't turn to check, but I got the feeling he was watching us, a little jealous, maybe.

We reached the town, which was filled with cheerful summer tourists with sun hats and shiny noses.

The hospital is close to the center of town. It's small but modern, a low red brick building that reminds you of a city apartment. Knowing the way nurses feel about germs, I left Sam on the back seat of the scout car, winding the window way down for his comfort. Then Fred and I went up the steps and checked with the admitting nurse.

She was brisk, but she recognized me and grinned. "You here for our two-star patients, Chief?"

"Yes, please. We have to talk to the OPP detectives. Where are they?"

"They're over in emergency with the second man who came in. The doctor is taking those hooks out."

"How about the other kid? The one who was shot. How's he doing?"

"Just out of surgery. He was lucky apparently. Nothing serious was hit."

"Good." I smiled at her. "We'll go see the detectives."

We found Werner talking to a pretty black nurse who was laughing at some comment he'd made. When he saw us, he said to her, "If you could rustle up two more cups, these people look thirsty."

"I'll try," she said, and asked us, "How do you take your coffee?"

We told her, and she nodded and clicked off through a swinging door. Werner said, "Hi. The doctor kicked me out. Wan'ed to kick us both out until we gave him that guy's pedigree."

"What's he say about the injuries?"

"Says the bump on the head is superficial. They haven't X-rayed him yet, but the doctor doesn't think the skull's damaged. He just wants to get your handiwork off before they take a look."

"May be painful," I said. "The hooks had gone into the cheekbone, I think."

"Could be worse," Werner said.

"Yes." Fred was narrowing her eyes with concern. "It could have been his eye."

"No. Worse 'n that." Werner grinned. "Could've been me."

We laughed, Fred a little shamefacedly. "You have no heart," she told Werner, and he laughed again.

"Wore it out years ago in this job."
 

"The kid's out of surgery. The desk nurse said he's doing all right. Have you got anybody up there with him?" Werner frowned. "No, just the uniformed guy. Left him outside the operating theater. Told him to wait with the kid till I got back. He won't take a statement or anything. You wanna talk to Michaels?"

"It might be best. I shot him, but he knows me. He might open up a little quicker."

"Okay, we'll both go up." He ducked into the treatment room for a moment and then came back. "Gonna miss our coffee if we leave now," he said, then asked Fred, "Would you mind? The nurse'll tell you where we are. Could you bring it up, please?"

"No problem," Fred said. "It's not in my contract, but this is an emergency."

"Attagirl." Werner winked at her and then nodded me toward the door at the end of the hall. "He's on the third floor somewhere."

We went out to the elevator and waited a minute or so before one stopped for us. It held an orderly with an elderly woman in a wheelchair. The old woman tutted with annoyance as we got on. "Hurry up. Hurry up," she said, and the orderly looked at us and rolled his eyes.

We rode up two floors and got out, and the old woman tutted again. "I'll never get back to bed," she said.

Werner grinned at me as the doors closed. "Who in hell's waiting in bed for her? Burt Reynolds?"

"Has to be exciting, whoever he is," I said. I was winding down, happy that this case was almost over. Soon I would be free and Fred and I could head off somewhere unknown. Not Toronto, I hoped, although I would let her choose. Maybe we could drive west, around the top of the lake and on, north of Superior, somewhere really private.

We saw a uniformed man sitting outside a closed door. He was chewing gum and looking bored, but he stood up when he saw Werner.

"How's he doing?" Werner asked him.

"Fine, I guess," the constable said carelessly. "He's only been back half an hour and he's already had visitors."

"Visitors? Who?" Werner's playfulness had fallen away in an instant. "I thought I told you to watch him. They still here?"