Snowjob (14 page)

He turned away. “No need,” he said. “Listen, you’re going to be questioned by the chief, I guess, about this. So’s Maloney. But so far as I’m concerned, you’re a brother officer. Seen many homicides?”

“I worked homicide for a year in Toronto.”

“Good. Those clowns from the ski patrol rushed in like the goddamn seventh cavalry. They’ve tramped the crime scene into a shambles, but let’s get up there and see what we can find.”

That pleased me. “Right. I’ll tell Frank.”

I went to Maloney and filled him in quickly. He asked only, “Are they sure it’s Jack?”

Hinton had joined me and he nodded. “I identified him.”

“In that case, would you like me to break the news to the family?”

“That would be very kind, sir. I was going to send an officer, but you’re a family friend. Would you go to the station first and pick up a uniform guy?”

“Of course.” Maloney nodded. “Then I’ll go home. Join me when you’re through, Reid.”

Maloney left and Hinton led me back to the ski patrol people. They got us a pair of snowmobiles and we rode up the slope, startling a whole series of skiers. On the bunny slope, a couple of them tumbled as we approached. It was a steep ride toward the top but I do a lot of skidooing in the winter at home and Hinton looked as if he’d ridden a snow machine before so we reached the scene in five minutes. It was a hundred meters or so from the mogul field that dominated this run.

We parked at the side of the ski trail and went into the trees. The ski patrol had left a man there and he was busily trying to shoo away the sightseers who were crowding in. He yelled at us as we approached, but Hinton flipped out his badge and he gave in gratefully. “I’ve done what I could, officer, but everybody and his goddamn brother wants to take a look.”

“You did well. Thanks for the help. What’s your name?” Hinton was professional. He took the name and clapped the man on the back, then reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a roll of orange tape. He flipped it to me and said, “Ten yards each way should be good.”

I quickly made a circle around the place where he was standing, moving the spectators back as I tied the tape to trees at chest height. The onlookers jostled but the barrier worked. None of them ducked under it to approach us. Then I joined Hinton. He was looking up at the trees above his head. As we watched a gondola car passed over and Hinton spoke. “There’s not much forward momentum. He must have fallen just about straight down. See where those branches are broken?”

“Yeah. He must have landed here.” We looked down at our feet. The snow, about two feet deep, was tramped flat all around us.

“Great,” Hinton said angrily. “If there’s anything here we won’t find it until spring. Why did the damn ski patrol move the goddamn body?”

“We’ll search anyway. I’ll work down the slope from the point of impact. You want to work up?”

“Right.” Hinton looked disgusted. He was wearing city clothes, a good topcoat and low shoes with toe rubbers. His pants were white with snow to the knees already. He had no hat. I was wearing a toque and had a hood on my parka. “Stick this on,” I said and gave him my toque.

“Thanks very much.” He put it on gratefully. Then I flipped up my hood and laced the front and stepped behind the tree where Grant had fallen. Even here the snow was trampled and I reached up and cut off
a small branch with my clasp knife and quickly trimmed it until I had a small rake. Then I crouched and started sifting the trampled snow.

It was laborious work and produced nothing within the area I had taped off. But below that spot the snow was untrampled and I went forward, faster, looking for holes in the virgin snow, places where things had fallen since the last snowfall. There were lots of them and I dug up twigs and pine cones with my little rake. And then, forty yards from the place where Grant had been found, right at the edge of the small grove of trees, I saw a hole that looked artificial. It was almost square. I dug into it, brushing the snow aside as carefully as an archaeologist an ancient tomb. And deep down in the soft snow, almost to the ground, I found a billfold.

There was no need to mark the spot. My footsteps were the only impressions on the snow here, in the woods. I stood up and trudged back up to Hinton who was still working in the trampled area immediately around the body.

He looked up at me. “This is impossible. I’m going to call in a metal detector to look for the weapon.”

“Found something,” I said and held out the billfold on the end of my twig. He opened both gloved hands like a begging bowl and I dropped the billfold into them.

He stood there, holding it flat on his hands. “Can you open the flap with that stick?”

I did so and he indicated the second little flap on the left side. “Should be a license under there.”

I lifted that one as well and we bent forward to check the name. It was Grant’s own wallet. “Pity,” Hinton said. “Would’ve been neat if this was the perp’s. But that doesn’t happen in real life.”

“It looks thin. The guy who dropped it probably went through it and took out his money and credit cards. There may be fingerprints.”

He looked at me wide-eyed. “Wouldn’t that be great.” He bit the fingers of his right glove and pulled it off, then dug into his coat pocket and came out with an evidence bag. I took it from him and held it open while he slipped the billfold into it, not touching it with his bare fingers. “Good,” he said. “There could be prints, if the guy who killed him went through it. And if the sonofabitch took his gloves off to do it.”

“One small step for police kind,” I said. “I’ve gone as far as the edge of the wood. Want me to help you here?”

“Yeah. Please. I phoned for some guys soon’s I saw we had a homicide but there’s hardly anybody working on a Sunday morning. They’ll have to round ’em up and bring them in. Meantime, let’s give this our best shot.”

So I got back down on my knees and went over the ground. It’s the kind of unglamorous and mostly unproductive work that cops have to do. And we knew we were working at a disadvantage. The place was so public, so trampled by the skiers who had found the body, so open to contamination from the chair lift above us that there wasn’t much chance we could tie anything we found to any killer. Even if we’d found the murderer’s wallet a sharp lawyer would make the case that his client had dropped it while riding the lift overhead. But you don’t know what you haven’t got while you still haven’t got it, so we probed and got wetter and colder for almost an hour. Then a couple of guys in city overcoats came ducking under the tape. It was Lieutenant Cassidy and Morgan. And Cassidy was blazing. He pointed a finger at me. “What in hell’s this guy doing here?”

“He’s a trained homicide officer, assisting me at my request, Lieutenant.” Hinton was just as angry but was faultlessly polite.

“You’ve embarrassed the whole Chambers PD,” Cassidy snapped. “This man’s got a record in town.”

Hinton was cold and weary enough to snap at this. “What he’s got is a goddamn good reason to sue our ass off,” he said. “His arrest last night was a phony. You know that and so does he.”

“You better have this discussion with the chief,” Cassidy said. “In the meantime I’m relieving you here. Take this man and get back to the precinct and report what you’ve done.”

“Glad to,” Hinton said. “Come on, Reid.”

We went back to our snow machines, leaving the two detectives standing there with their hands in their pockets and puffs of righteous breath rising around their heads.

“Let him freeze his own ass off,” Hinton said. “Come on, let’s get down the slope, get a cup of coffee.”

We drove down, dodging skiers, and left the machines at the rescue hut. Then Hinton led me to the coffee shop and we got a cup of new life and warmed our feet. He paid for the coffee and said nothing while we drank it. When we’d finished he took me out to his car and said, “So, let’s go catch hell.”

The chief was in his office talking on the phone. The door was open and Hinton tapped on the door frame with his knuckles. The chief looked up and waved him in, still talking. He looked less menacing this morning, neat in a gray suit, as if he’d just come from church. He finished his conversation and stood up, looking straight at me. “I was just talking to Mr. Maloney. I’m glad you came in,” he said. “I want to apologize for what happened last night.”

I didn’t reply at once. The department was in the wrong and they should appreciate that. Not for my sake but for the sake of the next guy they didn’t like the looks of.

The chief had expected an answer but when none came he went on, a little less sure of himself now. “I acted responsibly on the case that was presented to me. I’m sure you appreciate that.”

This time I had to speak. “In my jurisdiction I wouldn’t have arrested a man on hearsay, Chief. I’d have asked the complainant to swear a warrant against the accused and then acted on it.”

He looked at me, then away, then collected his confidence and looked back at me, nodding. “I’m afraid I’ve put the town in a very embarrassing situation. Will you accept my apology?”

“I will if I get compensation,” I said and I heard Hinton catch his breath. The chief said nothing, waiting for me to name the number of millions I had in mind. I put them out of their misery. “For my own arrest, no charge. But I had to purchase my dog back from the pound. It cost me seventy-five dollars.”

He opened his mouth to speak, relief spreading across his face, but I held up my hand. “If he’d been killed, I would have sued. As it is, I’d like my seventy-five bucks, plus.” I left a pause and he waited, a chastened man. “Plus I want to volunteer to act as an investigator in this murder and the murder of Ms. Laver. I think they’re connected.”

He reached out to shake my hand. “Thank you. We’re most grateful to you, Mr. Bennett. Or should I call you Chief?”

“Reid is fine. And I want to take my dog with me on this case without Mr. Cassidy getting snotty.”

“Sure. Sure.” He looked at Hinton. “Can you fill Reid in on our investigation so far? And get him desk space, a phone, whatever he needs.”

“Yessir.” Hinton’s anxiety had fallen away from him, like snow from a jerked branch. “And we’ve already made one find in the Grant case.” We, not Reid, I noticed. He would be working here after I left. He needed all the brownie points he could score.

“What’s that?” The chief was all business now, gathering his authority around him again like a man putting on a uniform.

Hinton pulled out the evidence bag with the billfold in it. “We found this at the scene. It was at the edge of the trees. Must have been thrown away from the chair lift, just before the body was dropped.”

The chief picked up the bag by one corner. “Any ID?”

“It’s Grant’s, sir,” Hinton said. “I haven’t checked it but it looks like the money has gone and the credit cards. If we’re real lucky there could be prints on it from the perp.”

“Get Wilkins in and have him dust it.” The chief made a shooing motion and we turned to leave but he called me back. “Mr. Bennett, Reid, if you don’t mind, could we have a word in private?”

“Of course.” I waited as Pat left and the chief got up and closed the door. “I was intrigued when you said the two homicides are related.” He looked at me and I studied his face. He looked intelligent. Strong features with a long, straight nose and clear blue eyes. Polish-German ancestry, I thought and remembered that Huckmeyer, one of the people I suspected, was also probably from the same gene pool.

“To start with, you’ve got the wrong man in jail. I knew Doug Ford in Nam. He’s an honorable man. We’ve been in some bad places together but he never did anything to make me think he would murder anybody. Apparently he was following up an investigation of his own, something involving the murdered woman. When I started making some inquiries along those lines I soon got hassled. The first time proved to me that Doug was right. Some guys from out of town kidnapped Doug’s daughter and told me to go home.” He wanted to speak here but I kept on. “And when I followed up anyway Grant and his buddies tried to beat me up. And now Grant’s been killed. It bears out what Officer Ford told me.”

The chief held up his hand. “A bit slower, please.” He frowned. “I haven’t heard anything about a kidnapping.”

“We didn’t report it. The child was returned unharmed and Doug’s family left town.”

He had more questions but this time I played hardball. “Chief, Doug Ford was certain he had a big case on his hands. He was right. You can see that from young Grant’s death. But he has sworn me to secrecy. The only way to get his views is to get him out of that jail and talk to him.”

“I can’t do that.” He leaned forward and fiddled with the edges of some files on his desk, making sure they were square and parallel with the edge of the desk, which they already were. “He’s charged with Murder One.”

“He shouldn’t be. There’s no solid case against him. The most he should have been charged with was possession of the money that went missing from the lodge and even that charge is shaky.”

He looked up at last. “I can’t go to the DA and tell him this. It’s nothing but hearsay. You think your old buddy is innocent so we should let him out, give him his job back.”

“It’s hard.” I gave him that much. “It’s going to embarrass the department, but if you do, you’re going to look a whole lot better when this business is finally cleared up and people see what really happened.”