Read Foul Deeds: A Rosalind Mystery Online

Authors: Linda Moore

Tags: #Fiction, #Crime

Foul Deeds: A Rosalind Mystery (20 page)

“My god. And you saying there are now three people in custody…This is unbelievable! What's the next step?”

“Well, we have several charges against them already, so they'll be detained until the arraignment. The investigation into your father's death has begun in earnest and will now finally include the police, Daniel. And I don't know if you remember an old friend of your father's, Harvie Greenblatt, the lawyer?”

“Yes, I do remember him very well.”

“Well, he works for the Crown Prosecutor's Office now and of course he's very interested in helping with the case.”

“This is all good news.”

“But listen, it's vital that we find your mother, so if you hear from her, please find out where she's staying and what her plans are and let us know immediately.”

We said good night and I sat for a moment staring at the telephone. I decided to get ready for bed. I was brushing my teeth when the phone rang.

“Hello.”

There was a pause.

“Hello?” I said again.

“This is Greta King.” I almost dropped the receiver.

“I'm, uh—we've been looking for you.”

“Yes. I just spoke to my son.”

“He managed to find you! Where are you staying?”

“I wondered if we could meet?”

“Now?”

“Yes, now.”

“Where?”

“Your place? I'd like to have a private meeting. I know it's late, but…”

I didn't hesitate. “Come over then.”

I gave her the address and hung up.

I wasn't sure what to do. How dangerous was she? Should I go it alone and speak to her one-on-one? Tell McBride? Or Harvie? I resolved to take the risk. I couldn't stand the thought of lawful espials hiding behind the arras. But I had broken into a sweat.

Deciding to treat her visit as I would any other, I put the kettle on. I was just pouring the water into the teapot when the doorbell rang. I opened the door and the cat rushed in—all fur. Greta was all fur too. Mink.

“Please come in,” I said. “Sorry about the door, but I was attacked by someone last night and the police had to break the window.”

She didn't bite. “Thank you for meeting with me. I understand you've had a busy day.”

And so have you, I thought. “Can I take your coat?”

“No. I'm very cold. I've been walking.”

“Let's go into the kitchen. It's warmer. We can have some hot tea.”

“I could use something stronger.”

“Scotch?”

“Thank you. Neat.”

I reached up into the cupboard and pulled down the Johnny Walker Red, which had been up there for eons. There was just a heel left in the bottle. I poured her a substantial shot and set the glass down in front of her. I got myself a cup of tea and sat down.

“So,” I said.

“So, you have been looking for me? It's Rosalind, isn't it?”

“Yes, it is. There's now an official investigation into your husband's death and you'll need to make yourself available, so I'm very glad you're here.”

“Daniel said he liked you and trusted you.”

“I like him too. You must be proud of your son. May I ask, why was it urgent that you see me tonight? Was there something in particular you wanted to tell me?”

“I've been away and I'm anxious to know what's going on. I'd like to hear it from someone who's been on the front line, so to speak.”

“Well, for one thing, we're going to exhume your husband's body for an autopsy.”

“I see.”

“I understand this was something you hadn't wanted at the time of death.”

“Well, the Medical Examiner determined that my husband died of natural causes. There was no need. I thought Peter deserved a dignified exit.” She picked up her glass and took a drink.

I looked at her. She was keeping everything cool. I hadn't told Daniel that she'd been observed by McBride at the house, so she couldn't know we had seen her there. Maybe she had no intention of telling me anything but had come here to fish for how much we knew, and to find out if we were aware of her involvement with Spiegle.

She looked across the table at me. “Daniel said you told him there were arrests made at our house today. That is shocking news.”

“Have you been there since you got back to town?”

“Not yet.” An impressive, steady liar.

“Well, there were, in fact, two arrests at your house today.”

“Good lord! What happened exactly—do you know?”

“My partner and the police pursued one of the men to your house. The other one was already there. That's where they were arrested.”

“And what do you know about these two men? Who are they? What were they doing there?”

The questions were to the point. She wanted to know what we knew.

“I'm not sure yet who they are,” I said.

“I'm wondering how these people got into my house in the first place. Was it broken into? At the very least you must have their names.”

“I'm sure Detective Arbuckle has all that information by now. I strongly suggest you see him tomorrow; he'll answer your questions. And he'll have questions for you, things that you can shed light on.”

The telephone rang. I looked at it.

“Please go ahead,” she said. “Where is your washroom?”

“Go out in the hall and then just at the top of the stairs.”

I picked up the phone.

“Hello.”

“Roz, it's Harvie.”

“My god, you're still awake?”

“I'm working. But listen, Daniel King just called me.”

“I spoke to him a little while ago and I told him you might be involved with the prosecution. He said he remembered you very well.”

“He had questions about the case, wanted to know who we were going after.”

“And what did you say?” I was suddenly apprehensive that Harvie had told Daniel about Spiegle and Greta's apparent involvement with him, and that Daniel had passed it on to his mother.

“I told him I was tied up and couldn't answer his questions tonight but would be in touch soon. I wanted to speak with you and McBride before informing him of anything. I mean, he's your client.”

“Good thinking, Harvie,” I said quietly, “there are things we need to keep to ourselves for the moment. Listen, he did reach Greta and she is actually here right now paying me a visit, so I should go.”

“Really? You're not in any difficulty are you? Do you want me to come over?”

“No, she seems harmless.”

“Okay, we'll talk tomorrow.”

We rang off. I could hear Greta coming down the stairs. I met her in the hall.

“You found it all right?”

“Yes, and thank you for the suggestion about seeing Detective…Arbuckle was it?”

“Yes. It's very important. Your son initiated our investigation, but now it's moving into the hands of the police and the Crown. So I'm sure you can understand that we need you here. Where are you staying in the meantime? Are you at a hotel?”

“I'm alright, thank you. It's very late and I've taken enough of your time. I'll go now.”

You came to see me and you haven't gotten a scrap of information, I thought.

“Do you want a cab?”

“No, I'll walk. I can flag one.”

“It's a bit dangerous to be walking around here, especially in that coat,” I said. “There have been random swarmings and robberies. Please, let me call one. Or I could drive you somewhere. You didn't tell me where you are staying.” Never give up, I thought.

“I'll be fine. It was nice to meet you, Rosalind.” She opened the door.

I knew I'd kick myself if I let her go without at least finding out how to get hold of her.

“Greta, I know I haven't been very forthcoming. What we know at this point is just the tip of the iceberg, but I can give you some information about what the men were doing at your house and tell you the name of one of them—that is, if you'll tell me how I can reach you.”

She paused, then said, “I can give you a cellphone number.” She closed the door again.

“That would be excellent. I thought you didn't have one.”

“That's how Daniel reached me tonight,” she said. “He knew I didn't take it to Europe, but now that I'm back, I'm using it again.”

“Would you mind writing the number down for me?” I indicated the notepaper on the hall table.

She wrote it down and handed the piece of notepaper to me.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Now it's your turn. Tell me what you know about the men.”

“Alright,” I said, watching her face. “A woman was abducted from her apartment yesterday morning, treated brutally and eventually taken to your house. The men were interrogating her because they believed she was in possession of some incriminating information that could implicate one of them in your husband's murder.”

“What do you mean—what kind of information?” Her demeanour was still cool, but I sensed a little increase in her heart rate.

“Business stuff, I think. Your husband often got in the way of powerful people getting what they wanted. The man who was calling the shots in this abduction incident is the focus of the incriminating information. He was one of the men arrested. His name is Carl Spiegle. Do you know him?”

She didn't flinch. “Where might I have met him?”

I was tempted to say Zurich but I didn't want to put her on the run.

“Through your husband possibly…This man works for the City, as a Planning Supervisor. You never heard Peter mention the name Carl Spiegle?”

I saw a moment of decision cross her face. “I don't know him,” she said.

“That's all I can tell you at this point,” I said. “We're still working on it. But back to your phone for a moment. You said you didn't take it with you to Europe.”

“That's right.” There was an edge of impatience to her voice. “What would be the point of dragging it around over there? It wouldn't work.”

“Exactly. I get that. So I must have misunderstood you. I was sure you said you hadn't been to your house since you returned to Halifax, but you must have been back there to pick it up.”

Caught. I could see it in her eyes.

“I—a friend had it.”

“So you're staying with a friend?”

“You've got the number. Call me if you need me.”

She was gone.

“Wow,” I said aloud as I turned the deadbolt. I took a deep breath. She'd been wearing expensive perfume—Chanel—probably purchased in Paris during her recent assignation with Carl Spiegle. She had really dug herself in. Risky to lie and say she didn't know Spiegle when it would be easy to prove otherwise. McBride said that when she left the house, she had told Spiegle it was over. So why not take the opportunity to help put him behind bars? It didn't make any sense. I was missing a piece of the puzzle.

“Now can I go to bed?” I asked the cat, who had wandered into the hall from the kitchen, licking her chops. I put Greta's glass by the sink, switched off the kitchen light, and turned down the thermostat. “Come on,” I said and trudged upstairs with the cat following.

Chapter Twenty-one

Six hours later, I opened my eyes
and stared at the ceiling in the dawn light thinking about all the things that were going to be accomplished that day. Harvie was going to speak with the Chief Crown Attorney to find out how much involvement he could have in the investigation. In conjunction with the police he was also going to get the ball rolling on the exhumation of Peter King's body. Arbuckle was going to begin the interviews with Spiegle, zeroing in on the murder of Peter King. The two thugs would each have a string of charges brought against them for their various assaults against Sophie, Aziz, McBride, and myself.

McBride would soon be on his way over to my place to review Aziz's file before we took it up to Arbuckle. After our visit to the police station, he and I were going to the hospital to see Aziz. Progress, I thought. At long last.

Fortunately, Sophie and I didn't have rehearsal until the following evening. Monday was almost always the day off—or, as the actors called it, the “dark” day.

And, oh yes…Greta! Her visit of the previous night felt so surreal. What's the best next step, I wondered. I had the feeling that calling her on her cellphone would prove fruitless. We could ambush her at the bank while she was signing papers, but could we force her to talk to the police? McBride would have to figure it out.

I closed my eyes. The cat stretched and stood up. She walked all the way up my body and stood on my chest, looking at my face. I opened my eyes again.

“Okay,” I said. She purred in response, sensing that food was in the offing.

McBride and I were sitting in my kitchen over a cup of tea an hour later. I was filling him in on Greta's late-night visit, which he found perplexing.

“What an odd thing for her to do,” he said. “It doesn't make sense.”

“Well, that Greta's one crazy cat, I think. No offense,” I said to the cat. “I had the impression that Daniel had encouraged her to talk to me. She told me she hadn't been to her house since she'd arrived in town, which as you and I know was a lie. She must have come to see me to find out what we know. Anyway she left just as mysteriously as she arrived.”

“And what information did she actually get from you?” McBride asked.

I explained the story of our little exchange—her phone number for the information on the abduction and the name of one of the men arrested, Carl Spiegle, whom she denied knowing or ever having met.

“Curiouser and curiouser,” McBride said. “Well listen, it's almost nine. Let me get a look at the Aziz file and then we'll take it up to Arbuckle and find out what his plan of attack is with those three.”

“Great. I just have to get myself together. Why don't you wash these up and I'll be right back down with it.” I smiled and pushed my teacup towards him.

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