Dead & Buried (26 page)

TWENTY-FOUR

As I waited for the cops to arrive, I thought of my plate of roast beef back in the General Brock Room. I was strangely able to think of it growing cold at the same time I was staring at the notice outside the sauna door. I couldn’t see any reason for keeping the heat on in there, but I never liked to tamper with things at the scene of a crime if I can help it, especially when there are witnesses hanging around.

Burgess, the club manager, had gone to inform the police, when I convinced him that this was a formality that couldn’t be overlooked. I sent one of the ushers, a twenty-five-year-old kid named Brant or Clint, back to the dining-room to make sure nobody left until the police said they could. He was a big kid, built like a football linebacker, and I knew that even Ross Forbes at his most bullish would think twice before crossing him. I checked my watch. Eight o’clock on the nose. It would be ten before even the optimist would predict we’d be clear of this mess. I was never that optimistic. Again I thought of the food.

It was my old friend and sometime antagonist Staff Sergeant Chris Savas who arrived to take charge of the
investigation. Savas and I had run into one another on a few cases. I knew him to be a good cop. In spite of those cold, metallic eyes, he was honest and even imaginative for a heavy-duty policeman. He took in his information from the uniformed police already on the scene. He spoke for a few minutes to Burgess, whose arms moved in my direction, as though he was blaming me for not turning off the heat in the sauna. Savas looked over at me, but there was no sign in his face that we had eaten Greek food together or that he had shared a communal teabag in my mother’s living-room. This was business, and if there was an advantage to be had from keeping everybody in a unbroken straight line, he intended to reap it. I didn’t envy him the investigation into the death of a leading citizen. Wherever he walked there were toes to step on, and each of those little piggies came equipped with lawyers and access to the media. No wonder he didn’t look like he was going to enjoy himself.

Savas strode into the General Brock Room and told everybody that the Commander was dead and that the circumstances were such that he had to ask them to submit to some questioning in order to determine the facts of the case. He thanked people for their cooperation before the first of the objections was raised. It was Dr. Carswell.

“Sergeant, this is all very overwhelming. Wouldn’t it be better to let some of the family leave? They’ve had a nasty shock, and I’m sure your questions can wait until morning.”

“Gary’s right,” Caine put in. “We can attend you whenever you say in the morning at your office. I think that Mrs. Forbes at least should be allowed to go home.”

“Mrs. Forbes?” Savas was looking at the widow, who was standing up very tall and straight for such a recent widow.

“I will answer your questions, Sergeant. I will do— and I beg the others to as well—whatever I can to clear up the death of my husband.” I had told the usher to keep his mouth shut about what had happened in the men’s sauna, but there was no surprise when Savas broke the news. They had known and had had a chance to get a handle on the information. Apart from a chalk-white face, Miss Biddy was doing very well. Sherry, on the other hand, was sobbing into Norm Caine’s sweater. Was it the loss of her grandfather or was it the inevitable postponement of their wedding? I couldn’t tell. Carswell moved in to talk in whispers to Caine who then looked up from the blonde head on his shoulder.

Savas conferred with Burgess and quickly began questioning the family and the inner circle, while the rest of us sat, along with ushers, bridesmaids and the three chefs, waiting. People in gym wear and others were ushered in to find a place to sit as well. Anna separated herself from the core of the wedding party and rejoined me at the edge of the room. She took my hand but otherwise left me free to keep my eyes open.

By the time he had talked to about twenty people, Savas announced, through one of the uniformed men, that
the rest of us were excused. He wanted our names and addresses and phone numbers, but our presence was no longer required. Anna grinned at me and we both headed for the double doors that had been closed. It had just pressed ten forty-five, but there would still be a few places open downtown where we could get a bite to eat. I didn’t get another look at any of the grieving family members as we went out. I was glad of that. I didn’t mind my job most of the time, but when it came to a dead grandfather, father and husband, I’d just as soon look the other way until the funeral is over. Death demands privacy, even if murder cries out for action. It was hard to do both at once.

The Di was closing up when we got there, so we went on to one of the new restaurants that had opened up in the former home of the Upper Canadian Bank on St. Andrew Street. They had moved into a new office tower across from the market, and after several false starts, this restaurant with its little round tables and espresso machine seemed to be thriving. Anna thought the music on the stereo was a Bach Partita, and we settled in with the menu. We were both starved. Neither one of us did much talking. We ordered coffee to start with and then a couple of sandwiches. I had a toasted cheese for a change; Anna went for crab on a kaiser roll.

“Do you think you know what happened?” Anna asked when she put down the coffee cup where the waiter could see it. He did and brought a prompt refill for both of us.

“Well, there was no sign of a gun or a knife, so I guess he didn’t do himself in.”

“So, it was murder just like Jack Dowden and Alex Pásztory?”

“That’s the way it looks, but right now I can’t even say for sure that Jack and Alex were killed by the same person. I think they were killed for similar reasons, but I can’t prove anything.”

“You said in the car that you talked to the Commander this afternoon.”

“Yeah. He didn’t look like he was hiding from anyone. He wasn’t on the run. No, I think we have one very surprised dead man in this case.”

“What will you do now that the police are involved?”

“I guess I’ll report to Irma Dowden and beg off. There’s not much room to move with Savas running around on this end and Pete Staziak on the other. No, I think I’ve just found my excuse to get off this case. I can leave the scene with my honour intact.”

“I felt sorry for Teddie Forbes in that room, Benny. Not a friend in the place. It was good of you to stay close to her.” I looked at Anna to see if she was pulling my leg, but she wasn’t. She was glad I’d kept an eye on her. What else could I do? Ross was nearly foaming at the mouth just seeing her.

“Yeah, Teddie can’t wait to get back to Flagstaff. She doesn’t like being here. What do you think Sherry and Caine will do? The wedding can’t go ahead as planned, can it?”

“That’s the first thing I thought of when I heard that the Commander was dead: ‘I won’t have to go through with this white-wedding charade.’ Isn’t that awful?”

“It’s honest.”

“Are you sorry that Sergeant Savas didn’t consult with you about the Commander?”

“Oh, he can’t do that on the first day. He’ll find his moment when he’s walked around the body a few times. This one’s going to be a hard one to figure.”

“Why do you say that?” I gave some bills to the waiter and he carried them to the cash register, one of the new kind with plastic covering everything. The place was empty except for us. We got up, and I tried to grab Anna’s chair, but was too late. It fell over with the weight of her raincoat.

“For one thing the coroner’s not going to be able to say when the Commander died. The heat from the sauna will screw up the usual calculations that have to do with bodies cooling after death. He told Ross and me that he hadn’t eaten any lunch, so that will spoil the other way of fixing the time of death. Savas may get lucky, though. He may hear from somebody who was in the sauna at a known time and left the old man in there hale and hearty.”

“Won’t he automatically become the chief suspect?”

“Not unless he had an axe to grind. The Commander was heading from the pool to the sauna when I saw him and that was just after lunch. He was in there a long time.”

“Well, at least you can eliminate all the female suspects. They wouldn’t have been able to get past the fellow selling tickets for towels and robes into the men’s locker room. So you can concentrate of the men. What about Ross? Do you think he did it?”

“He had a motive, all right. The old man was always meddling in the business, and it looks like he was trying to throw some or all of the action into Norm Caine’s court.”

“Could Caine be the guilty party, then?”

“Why would he kill the Commander, his chief ally in getting ahead in the business?”

“Maybe they had a falling out.”

“Maybes don’t fly, Anna. Savas will need something better than that.” By now we had reached the street. Anna took my arm as we moved along to where I’d parked the car.

St. Andrew Street looked dark and a little scary at that time of night, at least it did that night after what I’d seen at the club. The gentle curve of the store-fronts was a study in shadows and made the empty streets look like pictures by that American painter Anna liked, Edward Hooper, I think that’s his name. The tunnel-like opening, where Bixby’s used to be looked like the entrance to hell or the Black Hole of Calcutta. While I was trying to sift through these sinister imaginings, I became aware that there was a car coming up behind us. Why was it hugging the sidewalk we were on when it had the whole breadth
of the one-way street? Why was it slowing down? I didn’t wait for an answer.

“C’mon!” I yelled and grabbed Anna’s hand. We ran into Helliwell Lane and then turned right, under the fire escapes and dark windows, into Somerset Place. We blundered into the leanto that Apply Mary had set up. She began to yell as we came out on James, across from the Centre Theatre. Still holding on to Anna, I dragged her across James and into the alley, which followed the long unbroken line of the theatre’s auditorium to the end and then bumped into the new warehouse behind Graham’s bookstore. What I wouldn’t give for a key to his back door, I thought. But I knew that the alley wasn’t the kind that ended in a dead end, so we were quickly through the darkest part. We stopped in a doorway and listened in the shadows to the sounds above our heavy breathing. I could hear no footsteps, I could see no headlights.

“I’m putting you in a taxi,” I told Anna.

“In a pig’s eye, as you always say. You’re not packing me off home the first time the game gets rough.”

“It’s not a game! These are the boys I was telling you about. Let me see you safe, then I can concentrate on this damned mess.”

“I would prefer not to.” She made it sound like a quotation. I certainly couldn’t move her. After another minute we worked our way from Chestnut Street, through the bus terminal to Academy. From there it was a short sprint to my apartment. I left Anna standing behind a stout maple, while I surveyed the rest of the way to the front
door. The street was quiet and there were no boogeymen hiding on the landing watching me fish out my key.

Once inside, with the door locked and bolted, we began to find our courage again. I brought out a bottle of cognac and we both had a short sharp shot, just enough to restore perspective.

“You’d better call your pal Savas. He should know about this. And about the other night. Does he know about your drive out to Port Richmond?”

“Savas has his hands full tonight. The best thing we can do is give Savas a wide berth.”

“Until morning.”

“Sure. If you insist.” Anna smiled at that and tried to relax. But I could see that she was shivering. I slipped her coat back over her shoulders and held her for a few minutes. That seemed to help.

“What I really need is a scalding hot bath,” she said. “That’s my defence against all known and unknown terrors.”

“Help yourself,” I said, suddenly aware of the limitations of my bachelor establishment. I found some fresh towels and a terry-cloth robe and handed them to her. She closed the door, and soon I heard the sound of running water. The apartment walls were looking at me as I sat there watching steam billow from the crack at the bottom of the door.

Later … But that’s nobody’s business.

TWENTY-FIVE

I was having my morning coffee at the Diana Sweets and reading the Saturday
Globe and Mail,
when I felt an extra two hundred pounds on the bench I was sitting on. Staff Sergeant Chris Savas had joined me and the napkin dispenser. He carried his own coffee in a foam cup with a plastic lid. He didn’t say anything. Before I even got my mouth open to tell him what he knew already—that he looked like he’d been up all night—Pete Staziak moved into the place opposite me. He carried no coffee of his own, but he too didn’t look like a man who’d spent the night in the bosom of his family. I waved for the waitress. Savas surrendered his foam cup, and we ordered a new round to start afresh.

“Okay,” I said. “I won’t make any clever remarks about burning the midnight oil. I’ll speak when spoken to.”

“Damn right,” said Pete, taking off his hat and giving us all a look at the red line around his head.

When the coffee arrived, Savas, at my elbow, took a sip and then turned to me. “What the hell do you think’s going on? I’ll be damned if I can figure it out.” Such an admission from Chris was simply a ploy of some sort. He was
too good a cop to be all that much at sea. It was meant to disarm me, to turn me into a cooperative witness. I shrugged. It seemed the best thing to do under the circumstances. Then Pete joined in:

“What cards are you holding face down, Benny? That’s really all we want to know.”

“Just the name of my client. That’s all I care about. The rest is yours or anybody else’s. But remember, I only came into this thing a week ago last Tuesday.”

Silently, Pete pulled out his wallet and handed Chris a five-dollar bill. “What’s that all about?” I asked.

“Chris said you wouldn’t volunteer the fact that there was bad blood between you and Ross Forbes. I said different, that’s all.”

“You didn’t give me time, damn it! I didn’t know you were putting money on me. Hey, and besides, Ross Forbes isn’t in the morgue. It’s his old man, who has never laid a glove on me.”