The Cardinal Divide (38 page)

“I'll talk with Perry Gilbert first, and then go to the detachment to talk with Reimer. Which names have you got?”

“For the moles?”

Cole nodded and finished his sausages.

“I have three. James Preacher is a retired miner who worked
at the Buffalo Anthracite Mine for more than thirty years. When he retired he started coming to our monthly meetings, and has become more and more involved as this fight has heated up. He's been with us for about two years, and he seems pretty committed, though he'd never say so publicly. I know it's not very generous of me, but I just wonder if he's really on our side on this, you know, with his past and all.”

Cole was nodding, making notes in his book.

“The second is Basilo Francesco. He owns one of the town's three hardware stores. He's been in Oracle most of his life, but only recently joined us. He tells me that he's worried about the direction the town is going in and wants to help create economic diversification. More than just mining and timber. He seems like he's on the up and up, but he's also a member of the Chamber of Commerce and that makes me wonder.

“The third is a girl named Anne Stanton. She's really new in town. Just moved here a month ago from Edmonton. She's graduated from the University of Alberta's Political Science program, and came to Oracle to work for the summer. Says she wanted to be closer to the mountains and to help with the Cardinal Divide fight. She says she took a class on activism at University where they talked about this campaign, and wanted to get involved. She seems pretty idealistic, but she's been a big help so far.”

Cole sat back in his chair. “So what story are we going to give these people?”

They discussed it and Cole took notes to make sure he kept it straight.

“
OK
,” he said, and stood up. “I better get cracking.”

“I'd like to come along to these interviews,” Peggy said.

“That's fine with me. I figure I'll be out all day. Why don't we take separate cars and I'll meet you at James Preacher's place around 11
AM
?”

They agreed.

Cole called Perry Gilbert on his way into town. He filled him in on all the previous day's events. They decided to talk to Reimer together. It was nine-thirty when he arrived at the
RCMP
detachment. Perry was waiting for him.

“You look rough this morning.”

“Thanks,” said Cole as he walked toward the building. “I feel worse than I look.”

“What happened to your chin?”

“It ran into Hank Henderson's fist.”

“Nice work if you can get it.”

“Can't beat the pay,” Cole said and climbed the steps.

Sergeant Reimer came to the desk. “What can I do for you gentlemen?”

“Need a moment of your time this morning, Sergeant,” said Gilbert. “Something has come up that I think you'll want to know about.”

“My office,” she said.

The followed her. She offered them two chairs opposite her and looked at them.

“Cole was at the mine site yesterday meeting with a few folks, and found something that we think will interest you.”

“You were at the mine site?”

“Yes, I was.”

“Didn't I tell you not to interfere with this investigation?”

Cole took a deep breath. “Are you interested in what I've found or not?”

Sergeant Reimer looked visibly angry. She said nothing.

“When I was using the washroom on the fourth floor, I happened to drop something from my pocket. I bent over to pick it up, and found blood splattered under the sink and on the walls beneath the counter. It looked to be about a week old.”

Cole could see Sergeant Reimer processing this information.

“I don't think the blood came from some everyday kind of injury, you know, like a paper cut or what have you. There was a quite a lot of it.”

“Will you reopen the investigation, Sergeant?” Perry Gilbert asked.

Reimer smiled thinly. “It's a bit too early for that, Mr. Gilbert. If anything this may be a case of changing the scene of the crime, not the perpetrator.”

“But you'll send a team out to look at the room? Cole tells me there aren't any men working on the fourth floor now.”

“That's what Mike Barnes' secretary told me,” added Cole.

“So there shouldn't be too many prints on the door to the washroom.”

“Assuming that the perpetrator didn't wear gloves,” added Reimer.

“One way or another, it's worth looking into. You can at least match the blood types, and determine location. Maybe you'll get lucky and lift some prints too.”

“I'll call Red Deer and have a forensics team sent in. Might take a day.”

“Can you have the room sealed?”

“I don't have the manpower to put someone on the doo r, but I'll call the mine and ask that it be locked.”

Perry smiled. “Good enough.”

“Mr. Blackwater,” said Sergeant Reimer. “Don't think that this information changes how I feel about your involvement in this case. This investigation is a matter for the police, not for a private citizen.”

“Then it would be helpful, Sergeant,” said Cole, failing to hide the contempt in his voice, “if the police actually investigated, instead of merely convicting a man based on a quote in a newspaper. If I hadn't found that blood, you'd still think the murder took place in the mill. What else don't you know? You still haven't established the murder weapon.”

“Those results will be back tomorrow.”

“And what will they show? That Mike Barnes hit his head on a drill bit? That could have happened after he was dead.”

Sergeant Reimer stood up. “You gentlemen know your way out?”

Cole stood. “You've got an innocent man behind bars while the real killer is walking the streets of
this
town, Sergeant.”

“That will be all, Mr. Blackwater.”

“I have one more question, if you don't mind, Sergeant. Were Mike Barnes' keys found on his body when he died?” asked Perry.

Reimer shook her head, but she picked up the phone. “It's Reimer,” she said into the handset. “Were there keys on the deceased when he was brought in?
OK
, thanks.”

“Full set, including car keys, office keys, and the master key for the mine.”
They left.

“That went well,” said Perry Gilbert, stepping lightly down the entrance stairs.

Cole moved ponderously behind him. “'Bout as well as I expected. Can you get anybody to light a fire under her butt?”

“I'll call my supervisor and ask her to file a complaint. What are you up to for the rest of the day?”

“I'm going to ferret out the snitch inside
ESC
o
G
.”

“You still think that's connected?”

“Who knows? But if nothing else, it will close up one hole in what is fast becoming a very leaky weir.”

“Let me know if anything turns up.”

They said goodbye and Cole drove across town to his meeting with Peggy McSorlie.

“You ready?” he asked her in front of James Preacher's house.

“I think so.”

He rang the bell and a moment later James Preacher answered the door. Cole remembered him from the now-distant strategy session at Peggy's house. James Preacher stood under five foot ten and Cole pegged him as a welterweight. His narrow body was tucked into a pair of grey workpants that were clean, and a red and black chequered shirt that had been carefully pressed. He had thin, grey hair cut short and wore glasses. He greeted them and ushered them inside. “Come in, come in. Will you have coffee?”

“No thanks,” said Cole, “not for me.”

“Only if you're having some, James,” said Peggy.

“I've got a pot on. Come on into the kitchen.” The home was neat and clean, but showed signs of wear and age.

“How long have you lived here, James?”

“In this place, since 1967. In Oracle, all my life. I was born here. 1938.”

Cole looked at the photos on the mantle of the fireplace. Two grown sons, with children of their own. “You're a grandfather, James?”

“I have four grandchildren. Three girls and a boy.”

“Do you see them much?”

“Not as often as I'd like. The missus and I get out to Toronto about once a year; that's where our oldest son lives. Our other boy is in California, Silicon Valley, and we only get there every couple of
years. It's just too expensive. But they all come here for Christmas every year, so that gives us a lot of time with the little ones.”

They sat at the table. “What's this all about?” asked James.

“Well, we're trying to get the campaign started again, James,” said Peggy.

“We're hoping for your input. Peggy and I are contemplating a new tack,” said Cole, “and we want to see what you think. He explained the new direction that the campaign might take, watching the miner's face for any sign that might betray his intentions. He added the variation that he and Peggy had agreed on and then sat back. “What do you think?”

James folded his hands on his chest. “I don't know. It seems like a pretty big risk to take.”

“We feel we need to get our side of the story out right now, James,” said Peggy.

“But to publicly condemn Dale before he's gone to trial seems unnecessary.”

Cole watched him. “Do you think the media will pick up on it?”

“Pick up on it? They'll eat Dale van Stempvort alive. I thought you two believe he's innocent.”

“We do, James. But we're up against a wall.”

James looked at his hands. “I trust you, Peggy. And you too, Cole. If this is what you have to do, I'll support you. I just feel bad for Dale is all. He's no killer. I don't think so, at least.” The old man sighed. “So, when are you doing this?”

“Middle of next week,” said Cole. That gave the story enough time to leak.

“Thanks for including me on this.”

“We're going to try and meet with everybody today,” said Cole.

James showed them to the door. When they were back at their vehicles Cole said, “That went well.”

Peggy looked downcast, “I hate to set people up like that.”

“Well, one of them is setting
us
up pretty good. And Dale too.

They'll understand. Let's go and see Basilo.”

They drove downtown and parked. Basilo was behind the counter at his hardware store when they walked in. He called for one of his store clerks to come, showed them into the small office behind the front desk, and closed the door.

“I know what you are thinking,” he said after they shook hands
and sat down. “You think I am the one who gave that information to that reporter. It's not so.”

Cole and Peggy looked at each other. “That's not what this is about, Basilo,” said Cole.

“Please, call me Basil. And it is
OK
. It makes sense, no? I am a business man, a member of the Chamber of Commerce. You think that because I run a business, because I take my lunch with people like David Smith, that I am only in favour of development. Of the mines. Of the mill. Well, it is not so. I came to Oracle because I wanted to make a better life for my family. We moved to the Crowsnest Pass when I was three years old.” He held up three fingers to emphasis the point. “My father, he worked underground his whole life. He died when he was just sixty-two years old. Lung cancer. Breathed coal dust his whole life. My mother, she worked like a slave. Six kids. No running water until the 1950s. No telephone until 1961. We had nothing. That mine, they did nothing for us. Nothing, I tell you. When my father died, they did nothing for us. So I moved here. I knew mining was good for a town, but I see now that mining isn't what
this
town needs. Some day the mine will close. Maybe it will be next year. Maybe ten years from now. But what will be left after the mine closes? A hole in the ground. A bunch of rock in the creeks. What will the tourists want to see? A hole in the ground? I say no. I think they will want to see grizzly bears. So if the Cardinal Divide is turned into a hole in the ground, then in ten years there will be no Oracle. No town. No future. All the tourists, they will go someplace else. They will go to Banff. To Jasper. They will drive through here and not stop. They will not stop because there will be nothing to see.”

Cole and Peggy watched him.

“So what do you think we should do?” asked Cole.

“Keep fighting. That's all we can do, no?”

“We were thinking about announcing our support for Dale van Stempvort in the newspapers next week,” said Cole.

“I think that's nice, but I don't see how that stops the mine.”

“We can use it as a hook to tell the story that the company only wants to build the haul road and rail line, and that Mike Barnes' murder is really just a diversion from the mine's plans.”

Basilo looked at the two of them. “I would not do this. I would not say anything about Dale one way or another. Instead, I'd focus
on the economics. What happens to a town after the mine closes? Then what? What about the independent businessmen like me?”

“You're taking a big risk being against the mine, aren't you?”

“Life is risk. To be alive is risk. My father taught me to stand up for what I believe. This I believe: if the mine is dug into Cardinal Divide and the McLeod River, then all will be lost for his region. We will have killed the goose that gave us the golden egg.”

They left.

“We should put him on
TV
,” said Cole as they walked out of the hardware store.

“We could, if the Chamber of Commerce doesn't first.”

“Two down, one to go.”

They drove back through the residential part of town and up the hill to the new homes and condos to find the building where Anne Stanton lived. It was a new building, three stories tall, with wide balconies that overlooked the forested foothills beyond the Portsmith River Valley.