The Boy Must Die (17 page)

“Only this,” ventured Billy. “The kid was cut just before or while he
was standing on the box. The blood spatters I saw this morning in the site photos also suggest he was cut while standing under the pipe, in the location of the noose. So whoever was with Darren may have had him stand on the boom box around the time the cutting of the wrists and chest took place. We have the knife. And we have the smudge of blood in Darren’s right hand. Was that smudge from holding the bloodied knife? Does the mark with the distinct line suggest the knife was dropped or placed by the boom box?”

Johnson tapped the boom box. “Sir, Darren could’ve cut himself, or the murderer could have forced him to stand and be cut, and then the knife was placed on the floor as. . . .”

Dodd shook his head. “The kid probably held the knife and then dropped it because he was in pain.”

“Possible,” said Billy. “Darren may have been forced to do so, but the palm smudge suggests he was holding the knife at some point while he was bleeding. But why was the box removed from the site? And why did the accomplice — we’ll call the person or persons that for now — go and bury the knife? The burial looked haphazard to me. As if the accomplice wanted us to find it. The box was hidden more carefully. Was the hiding of these objects done in a moment of panic? Or did the perpetrator think that by hiding the objects any clues to his or her identity would be removed from the scene?”

When Billy was finished his hypothesis, Dodd and Johnson looked at each other. Dodd got out his notebook and flipped a few pages. He listed the questions Billy had asked, and as the silence of the bright room gathered, Billy gazed once more at the boom box, the knife, and the rope. Johnson had lain out the rope full length next to the box. Billy had been right about the rope burn but not about the material the rope was made from. It was nylon and shredded in places, like a hemp rope might be, but since the nylon was of cheap stock and worn from use, its rough edges had apparently bruised the skin in the same manner as hemp.

“You find anything on that rope, Johnson?”

“Yes. Dog hair. Some traces of skin from Darren’s body.”

“What about the bag with the blood stain?”

“The blood was Darren’s. Nothing was in the bag — lint only, some nylon fibre from the rope.”

Billy picked up Darren Riegert’s book, the
Thanatopsis.
He wondered if Dodd or Johnson had flipped through it to examine the spells or if there might be something inside. The book was the one item left they had not analyzed. Billy shook and fluttered the pages. From its centre, a Polaroid dropped to the floor.

“Ah,” Billy said, his voice gently teasing the other two.

The picture was of a red Valentine box. Billy slipped the other two Polaroids out of his pocket and laid the three of them in a row in front of Dodd and Johnson.

“Who took these, sir?” asked Johnson.

“Two of them for sure were taken by Blayne Morton. The third, from the book. . . .”

“Has to be his,” chimed in Dodd. “It’s the same red candy box.”

“How did it get into the
Thanatopsis
? Is there writing on it?”

Johnson picked it up and turned it over. “Yes. In printing. ‘Meet me tonight, please. Please.’”

Billy looked more closely. The handwriting here and on the other Polaroid was similar. “Try to get a print off that, Johnson. I suspect it’ll be one of Blayne Morton’s. Now we have three pictures from Blayne to Darren, and one of them was at the murder site. Was it carried there, or was it in the book to begin with?”

“It’s still not conclusive enough, though, is it, sir?” asked Johnson.

“We need a hard piece of evidence that places Blayne at the site for certain.”

“You get anything on Woody Keeler?” Billy then asked.

Both Dodd and Johnson grinned. “Yes, sir. We’ve been saving the best for last.” Johnson removed her gloves and apron. Dodd reached the swinging doors first and shoved them open with a sigh of gratitude. He held the door for Billy.

The small computer room was two doors down the hall on the same
floor. “This is our special-access computer, sir,” explained Johnson. She unlocked the door with a set of keys and held it open. “As Dodd showed you yesterday, there are files here and on-line connections to other units in the province we can call up. Security, mainly. Chief said he didn’t want his staff accessing what we’ve got here or they’d be playing all day at their desks.” Johnson tossed a mischievous glance at Dodd.

“Wait a second,” Dodd replied. He was about to go on, but Johnson sat down at the computer, keyed in her password, and took the mouse around the screen several times as Billy pulled up a chair and signalled to Dodd to do the same.

“Woody Keeler. Age thirty-four. Here’s the welfare profile, Inspector.”

Billy scanned the dates, the many changes of address, the file notations on jobs offered by the social agency, the one-line summaries of the job interviews given to Woody Keeler, and the reasons for rejections.

Johnson clicked the mouse; the screen reconfigured, and Woody Keeler’s police record came up.

“Two counts of drunk driving. One count for driving a stolen vehicle was later dropped. See the date, September 1996. Keeler provided his ownership papers. Claimed he’d mislain them. Fined for driving without proper documentation.”

“Go to the best part, Johnson,” Dodd said eagerly.

“Woody was arrested back in 1990 for assault causing bodily harm.”

Johnson led the cursor to Search, then Data File. A facsimile of a provincial
RCMP
report with Keeler’s name on it filled the screen. “The horsemen require a handwritten and a typewritten version of every crime report so that the officers involved concentrate on accuracy.”

“How’d you learn that, Johnson?” asked Dodd.

“They’ve been doing it since they came west, Dodd. It’s an old military procedure. We can look up any felon in
RCMP
files from the past fifty years. Except top-secret files connected with the Ministry of Defence.”

Billy read that Woody Keeler had been arraigned on suspicion of a beating that took place on the Peigan reserve, at Brocket. August 30,
1990. Keeler at the time was age twenty-six. On September 1, 1990, Keeler was charged with assaulting a juvenile, aged seventeen. The boy’s name was Ervin Born With a Tooth, hospitalized at St. Michael’s in Lethbridge with two broken teeth and a mild concussion. A witness to the beating testified that Keeler came out of a local Brocket hardware store carrying a bottle, bumped into the boy, and then started a fight. Later, members of the boy’s family testified that Ervin’s father, deceased, had been a school friend of Woody.

“The horsemen charged Keeler, and the court sentenced him to three months at the Lethbridge jail. But he was released on bail and signed up to do community work.”

“Show Billy the last item, Johnson,” said Dodd.

“I also found more on the boy, Ervin. On Saturday, September 16, 1990, two weeks after the assault, the horsemen filed another story. Classified under homicide. Unsolved. I thought you might like a hardcopy of this one.”

Johnson took a key from her pocket, opened a filing cabinet, and lifted out a blue folder. She handed a glossy photocopy sheet to Billy. It was a printout of a short file entry with the same format as the one on Woody Keeler. With it was a newspaper article, also photocopied, from the Lethbridge
Herald
with the same date as the
RCMP
report.

Billy read the headline of the
Herald
article: NATIVE BOY FOUND HANGED IN GYM.

The hanged body of a seventeen-year-old Peigan boy was found Thursday morning in the Brocket High School gymnasium in Brocket. Local
RCMP
constable, Walter Schmidt, was called to the gym earlier that morning by the principal, Allan Houk. The body was found suspended from a basketball hoop. Foul play is suspected, according to Schmidt. The body was identified by family members. Ervin Born With a Tooth died from the results of asphyxiation. “We have no leads as yet,” said Constable Schmidt. “We are concerned about the nature of the incident. The boy’s feet and hands were tied with wire.”

“What was the follow-up?” queried Billy.

“I did a search on six, eight, then twelve months of consecutive
Herald
pieces. Only two appeared saying the police had no leads and were calling for witnesses. I can show you the horsemen’s files, here too, if you like. The police in Brocket and Fort Macleod found no leads or witnesses. The family was unable to give any help. Parole records on Woody Keeler’s whereabouts at the time were in order. He reported to the community centre, did his work, called in when he got back home. He was required to serve only fifteen days in detention, in early November 1990. The case was declared cold in 1992.”

Billy skimmed the article again.

“Tomorrow, Johnson, go to Brocket. You are in, I assume?”

“Yes, sir. I have a tee time at Henderson for 6:00 a.m., but I can be on the road by 9:00.”

“Talk to the constable. I know the affair was a long time ago. And I know the Peigan may choose not to talk to you. This whole effort could turn into a big goose chase. But it’s worth the chance.”

Johnson nodded.

Billy went on. “Talk to anyone you can in the Born With a Tooth family about Keeler. Focus on him. Does he still go out to the reserve? Does he still have friends there? What about Ervin’s mother? We need to see if there are any connections. Do we have a photo of Woody?”

“Don’t think so,” answered Dodd. “But I’ll check.”

“Brocket unit might have one, sir. On their arrest files,” said Johnson.

“Refresh everyone’s memory. We need to see if Woody Keeler has been leaving a trail. I’m not suggesting what we have now with Darren is related to the Ervin case. And Woody Keeler has no obvious motive for going after Darren. But we need to start somewhere.”

Upstairs, Billy went to see Butch, but he was not in his office. The officer at the reception desk told Billy the chief had a last-minute meeting with the police board at the Lethbridge Lodge. He would be back later, after an hour or so. Billy stood still for a moment.

“I understand.”

“I can give you the Lodge number, sir. If you wish.”

“No thanks. That’s fine.”

The day was wearing on. Billy’s stomach rumbled. His bum knee was beginning to ache, and he took a moment to return to Butch’s office and find two Tylenols. A few minutes later, he entered interview room B, where a young man was waiting for him.

“Justin Moore?”

Justin thrust out his hand. Billy took in his clean-shaven face and nervous manner. He asked the young man to sit down; the camcorder was activated. Billy explained the context of the case and the problems he was having with finding hard evidence. Justin Moore listened attentively; Billy noted his polite demeanour.

“What I need from you, Justin, are facts as well as your memories.”

“About those two boys?”

“We can start with them. Did you ever meet them?”

“I saw them in the yard, and sometimes I watched them waiting on the front steps of the house for Sheree Lynn.”

“Did you ever speak to them?”

“No. I knew their names because Sheree Lynn told my mother who they were. My mother was very upset about those boys being there.”

“Why?”

“She knew they were troubled kids on welfare. She was afraid they’d break into our house.”

“Were there break-ins?”

“No.” Justin sat up straighter in his chair. He took in a deep breath. Billy noticed Justin fidgeting with his hands. There was also the constant shuffling of his feet.

“How much do you know about Sheree Lynn Bird?”

“She rents my Aunt Marion’s old house. I knew the two boys stayed there once in a while. We heard the boy, Cody, had drug problems. Sheree Lynn told my mother all this. I know Sheree Lynn lost her job. Her boyfriend is one of my professors at university. Is that enough? Sheree once asked my mother if she could have Aunt Marion’s dump painted, but Mom said we couldn’t afford it.”

“How often did you talk face-to-face to Sheree Lynn?”

“I said hello to her. Not much, really. Though she was very friendly. She liked to flirt, Inspector. She’s very hot. She came on to me once. Wanted me to come over to the yard and sunbathe with her. She wanted to go topless, she said. I was tempted, of course. But. . . . After that, she gave me the cold shoulder.” Justin said these words looking up at Billy, trying to act the buddy, his manner relaxing as he sat back in the chair.

“Where were you Friday night last?”

“At home.”

“With your mother?”

“We were watching
TV
. She went to bed early, and I stayed up and watched a video.”

“Did you see anything unusual next door? Anyone coming or going?”

“Not that night. I don’t really pay much attention to that place. I mean, I used to see those boys and Professor Mucklowe. Except that one time. About a year ago, maybe, or even earlier. They sometimes had parties. There was loud music at night.”

“What kind of music?”

“Rock, heavy metal sometimes. My mother was threatening to call the police half the time. But the music usually stopped around eleven, so we let it go. Last November, I think. It was a warm night, unusual for that time. I remember looking out the kitchen window and seeing Cody dancing naked on the back lawn. Something heavy was playing. He was falling down and crying out like he was having a nightmare, but he was fully awake.” Justin’s eyes were focused on the tabletop. He was relaxed, his voice calmer than when he started.

“What did you assume was happening?”

“He was out of it. High.”

“This was the only time you saw this type of behaviour?”

“Yes, but there was more.”

“How do you mean?”

“Cody was acting wild. I was glad my mother was asleep on the other
side of the house. I remember seeing Professor Mucklowe. He came out on the lawn. He was half naked himself. Wearing his undershorts only. He grabbed hold of Cody. Cody and he began to act like they were dancing or fighting. It was dark but light, too, because of the clear sky. It looked weird to me. Weird.” Justin stopped for a second.