Читать книгу Campbell Young Mysteries 3-Book Bundle - J.D. Carpenter - Страница 16

Young woke up in so much discomfort he was doubled over all the way to the toilet. If he breathed deeply, a searing pain burned across his abdomen. During the drive to work, he gripped the steering wheel tightly and groaned. As soon as he arrived at HQ, he was summoned into Staff Inspector Bateman’s office. Bateman, seated at his desk, eyed the stitches on Young’s cheekbone. “Trick’s back,” he said.

“Good.”

“Starts his computer lessons this morning. First time he’s been in since he got hit. Nearly three years.”

Young nodded.

Bateman fiddled with a letter opener. “He told me what happened out at the racetrack. Why didn’t you let me know? He says it was just an ‘attempt mug,’ but it could have been something else.”

“Yeah, well, we got the crowbar. It’s in a plastic bag in my van. Wicary can dust it for prints.”

“You don’t look so good. Maybe you should take a couple more days. Wheeler says you’ve been having gut aches, too, is that right?”

“Just heartburn, boss. No problem.”

“Could be diverticulitis. My wife had that. Watermelon seed. It was supposed to be a seedless.” He sighed and ran the fingers of one hand through his silver hair. “Very well, carry on.”

Trick was sitting in his wheelchair in the hall. “How you feeling, brother?”

“Shitty. Good to have you back. How’d you get here?”

“Boum-Boum. He dropped me around back, and I came up the freight elevator.”

Young gathered Trick, Wheeler, Barkas, and Big Urmson in the conference room.

As people were seating themselves, Wheeler raised a tentative finger to the Steri-Strips on Young’s cheekbone. “That looks painful,” she said. “My sources tell me it happened Sunday afternoon. Why didn’t you say something?”

Young shrugged. “What doesn’t kill us, Wheeler, makes us stronger.”

When everyone was seated, he said, “Greetings everybody, and a special welcome back for Mr. Trick. As all of you probably realize by now, we’re basically working two situations at once, both at the racetrack, but there’s a good chance they’re more closely related than just that. The first one, the death of the horse that was in Shorty Rogers’ barn, my gut instinct tells me was not a natural death. My gut instinct tells me it was killed intentionally. It may or may not be related to the second situation, Shorty’s murder, but I’ll bet there’s a tie-in somewhere. Now, with respect to Shorty’s case, I know we’ve already interviewed all the likely suspects, but I want each of them interviewed again. Only this time by some-one different. Barkas interviewed Summer Caldwell the first time; this time, Wheeler, you’re going to do it. I want these people to get the impression that everybody in Homicide is familiar with them, not just one person. However, since our friend Mr. Harvey has let us down with regard to Percy Ball, I’ll talk to Percy again myself. I think he knows a lot more than he’s letting on. Then I’m going to find out about Mahmoud Khan’s financial situation. I don’t think he’s as rich as he looks. I think he’s got some serious money problems, which may explain the dead horse. Wheeler, like I said, you’ve got Summer Caldwell. We need to find out more about her. Is she squeaky clean like she looks, what with the good works and the Feed the Children, or is there more to her than we know about? She was at the meeting at Uncle Morley’s house, and it seems she’s jealous of his success in the whatchamacallit.”

“The Beautiful Garden Competition.”

“Right, but did she have any reason to want his nephew murdered? My guess is she’ll end up pretty low on the list, but check her out just the same.”

Wheeler said, “While I’m at it, I want to see what she knows about Miss Sweet—”

“Good, because I want you to stick with Miss Sweet, at least for the time being. I couldn’t get anywhere with her, and she opened up for you like a steamed clam.”

He turned to Barkas. “Richard Ludlow, Barkas. Wheeler already did him, so now it’s your turn. President of the King County Golf and Country Club. Sniff around. I know he would just love to lay his hands on Uncle Morley’s land, but, again, did he have any reason to want Shorty dead?”

His eyes moved from Barkas to Big Urmson. “And speaking of Shorty, I want you out at the track, Urmson. I’ll set it up with Debi. She’ll meet you at the gates. Talk to people about Shorty. What are they saying? What’s the latest theory floating around Shedrow. Hang out in the kitchen for a while, see what you come up with. I know you did Stirling Smith-Gower the first time, and you did a bang-up job. I want you to do the same thing with Shorty.”

He swivelled in his chair. “Your turn,” he said to Trick.

Trick smiled noncommittally.

“I dropped by McCully’s yesterday afternoon, and Doug Buckley, the guy that won the lottery, was in there chatting up Jessy.”

“That wasn’t wise of him.”

“Turns out he was there to see me. Seems he knows who killed Shorty.”

“Really?”

“Yup. He claims it’s Smith-Gower.”

“The bird guy?”

“That’s right. Find out if he’s back from South America yet.”

Trick looked uncomfortable.

“How?”

Young shrugged. “Call him up, for starters.”

Trick was unconvinced.

Young said, “Look, it’s simple, really. Pick up the phone and dial his number. If he’s there, ask him about the ring-necked booby, then ask him where he was at eleven p.m. on May 31.”

That afternoon, Wheeler drove out to the Caledon Hills, northwest of Toronto, and spent an hour drinking iced tea and eating crustless cucumber sandwiches on a flag-stone patio behind a renovated century farmhouse. Despite the cool, overcast weather, Summer Caldwell was wearing a light summer dress and a floppy sun hat. She was an artificial brunette, a fading beauty.

She showed Wheeler photographs of her “children.”

“This is Tien,” she said, in sing-song baby talk, “he’s eight and he lives in Cambodia, and this is Irma, she’s six and she lives in Colombia.”

Wheeler said, “May I?”

Summer Caldwell passed her the photographs. “Thirty years ago,” she said, her voice deeper and raspier now, a smoker’s voice, “Thomas made it clear as a condition of our marriage that there would be no children, but he does allow me to sponsor.”

“They’re beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Wheeler passed the photos back, and Summer Caldwell replaced them in her purse. “It was a terrible shock when we heard about Delbert.”

“You knew him as Delbert?”

“Well, yes. Of course, I knew that everyone else called him Shorty, but it just seemed so common.” Summer Caldwell touched her hair. Her fingernails were long and lacquered. “We both grew up out here. We attended the same elementary school. Then when my parents sent me off to private school in Toronto, I lost track of him until I heard he was training racehorses.”

“Do you and your husband own racehorses, Mrs. Caldwell?”

She laughed. “No, my dear. Thomas wouldn’t dream of doing anything so ... I don’t know, so ... frivolous. He’s a financial advisor, don’t forget. And an accountant!”

“So far as you know, did Delbert have any enemies?”

Summer Caldwell paused. She studied the platter of little sandwiches. “I know he drank,” she said, “and I suspect he gambled. If the two took place simultaneously, it’s possible that he ended up owing someone a lot of money.”

“Are you just speculating, or do you know something definite?”

“Pure speculation, my dear.” She selected a sandwich and held it with her fingertips, as a child might hold an insect.

Wheeler consulted her notes. “Mrs. Caldwell, what can you tell me about Myrtle Sweet?”

For a moment, Summer Caldwell continued to study the sandwich. Then she turned to Wheeler and, with appetite, said, “Oh, she’s quite the scandal!”

“What do you mean?”

“Poor old Morley. He advertised for a housekeeper, and when she showed up for an interview, I’m sure the both of them began to drool. She’s very voluptuous, you know, in an Ava Gardner sort of way. And despite his religious, God-fearing exterior, Morley’s a horny old goat. And I should know, for hasn’t he pinched my bottom on more than one occasion! And when that Sweet woman saw how old and feeble he was, she must have thought she’d died and gone to heaven. As well, he was living alone. It didn’t take her long, I’m sure, to claw her way into his affections, and now I’m just concerned that she’s sinking her teeth into his fortune. I’ll bet my Mercedes his will has suffered a codicil or two since her arrival! They’re common people, the Rogerses, common as mud, and they’re not the brightest people in the world, either, but Morley has been squirreling away money for years, and when he sells his acreage, he’ll be very well off indeed.”

“Does she—”

“And those two young men she has working for her, well, I’m sure I just don’t know what to think of them.”

“You mean Eric and Kevin Favors?”

Summer Caldwell put down her sandwich. “My word, you’ve done your homework, haven’t you? I didn’t know their last name.”

“Technically speaking, don’t they work for Morley Rogers?”

“Well, yes, I suppose they do, but my guess is she runs the show. Do you mind if I smoke?”

“Not at all. What do you mean you don’t know what to think of them?”

“Well, to begin with, they’re black, which is almost unheard of in this community.”

Wheeler nodded, waiting.

“And they’re twins. Identical. Until that meeting at Morley’s house, I thought there was only one—I used to see her with one of them at the Caledon Hills Mall—then lo and behold, there were two of them at the meeting. I thought I was seeing double. I thought I’d had one too many martinis!” She leaned conspiratorially towards Wheeler. “And I’m positive there’s something going on.”

“What sort of thing?”

“You know.” She nodded meaningfully.

“Something ... sexual?”

Summer Caldwell held the flame of her gold lighter to the end of a cigarette as long as a drinking straw. “Exactly.”

“How do you know?”

“That evening at Morley’s. The air was positively charged with sexual energy. I could feel it. I’m very good at sensing these things, and I kept searching the room to find out who was involved. And then I discovered eye contact between Myrtle Sweet and one of the twins.”

“Which one?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know, my dear, I can’t tell them apart!”