Murder on the Mainline: another Mike Claymore Mystery Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN
4TH THURSDAY

Mike is up at four thirty and showering. He can’t sleep. He goes back and shuts off the alarm so it won’t sound out later. He gets dressed and goes to his office. He pulls the files and studies them then throws them into his briefcase. Grabbing a light jacket he quietly lets himself out the side door.

He pulls in at Trudy’s at seven. He raps lightly on the door. The curtain is drawn back then the door flies open. She draws him inside. A light robe is caught over her shoulders and she throws her arms around Mike. She whispers, “Come.” and beckons. He follows her to her bedroom and soon they are busy in the bed.

Afterwards she gets Crystal up and makes breakfast for them all. Before they are finished the baby sitter arrives and they are on their way to POCO by eight forty.

She slides over close to him and sticks a finger in his ear. She wiggles it and says, “I like your early morning surprises.”

“Can’t hear you. There’s something in my ear.”

She laughs and kisses his ear instead. She whispers, “I think I love you, Michael Claymore. Did you hear that?”

“I hear you, my mistress.”

“Don’t you want to say something back to me?”

“You make a good breakfast.”

“Anything else?”

“Uh, …I can’t think of anything.”

“You louse!” She cuffs him on the back of his head.

They pull into POCO and around to the realty office where Ron Harrison works. They enter the outer reception area and pose as a couple seeking a new home. They say they have had a referral to seek the help of Mr. Ron Harrison. The neat gray haired lady in her forties tells them he will be in around noon. She asks if they can come back then. They say they will try and leave.

In the car Mike uses the cell phone to try the number from the matchbook cover again. On the third ring he hears the sound of the phone being answered but no one says anything. He says, “Hello. Hello, are you there?” No answer. He hears a click and the connection is broken. “Damn!”

He dials the Royal Columbian Hospital and asks for Roger. “Good morning, it’s Mike. How’s our girl this morning?”

“I just got in. I see a report here on my desk that Bob came here late last night in an inebriated condition and left again before there was any need to call the police. He did not get past the lobby.”

“I expected…” He hears Roger talking to someone who just came into his office. “Did he say she was suffering from complications?”

“Oh, Mike, No. It’s not serious. She put in a bad night and some infection has set in around her ear. They’ve changed her dressing and treated the infection. It looks like they caught it before any danger. She’s doing well now. Are you coming in?”

“Not unless I have to. I’ve got other work this morning. Has she asked for me?”

Roger confers with the other man in the background. “She’s asked about you, but has not specifically requested you come in.”

“Well, maybe I’ll try to come by sometime today. You have my cell number. Call me if you need me.”

“First thing, and don’t worry.”

“See you later.”

He punches the ‘END’ button and speaks to Trudy. “Do you want to meet her?”

“Can she talk?”

“She should be able to now, without too much difficulty.”

“Let’s go over there.”

“First things first. Do you think you can handle this Mustang?”

“Of course I can. Why?”

“I want you to drop me in the alley behind Flo’s house and come back in forty minutes exactly; no sooner, no later. Got it?”

“Right. What if they’ve found the door and it’s locked?”

“I always have my lock picks.”

“Let’s go.” She slides across behind the wheel as he gets out. He comes around to the passenger side and gets in. He’s thrown back against the seat as she peals rubber pulling into the street. She laughs as she sees the expression on his face. “I’ll behave.” She slows and drives around to the back of Flo’s. He gets out and checks his watch. She checks hers and salutes as she drives away.

Mike shakes his head and turns into the back gate. He walks briskly across the back lawn and steps up to the door into the carport. It’s either locked or stuck so he goes around and walks inside the front. He notes the car tracks are disturbed and splashes of plaster of Paris litter the floor in the area. He steps to the door and tries it with thin gloves on his hands. The knob turns and the door opens. He listens. Nothing. He slips inside and listens again. All clear.

He crosses the kitchen and peeks into the living room. Then he tiptoes to the bedroom and all is as he last saw it. He checks the bathroom and spare bedroom. No one. He goes back to the kitchen. He pulls out and goes through every drawer. Tea towels, dish clothes, cutlery, he checks it all. Grocery list pad; he takes a pencil and using a flat side of the lead carefully blackens the top page. In white he spots words forming. He does the same with the back page and sees words forming there, as well. He doesn’t finish it. He drops the pad into a baggy and puts it in his pocket.

In the drawer he finds the instruction manual for a microwave. He looks around but there is no microwave here. Studying the plugs and the counter he searches for marks. Sure enough, at one time a microwave has rested on the counter. The slight indentations in the counter are clear. He bags the manual and puts that in his pocket.

That is all he can glean from the kitchen so he moves to her bedroom. He goes through all the drawers there. He comes up with a coin, a lira. Italian. He puts that with his other items. He goes through her jewel box and cosmetics. Nothing. In her closet he checks the pockets of all her clothes and the linings. He gets a package of book matches and a card from the “Viet Kitchen” restaurant in Vancouver. They are in a heavy winter coat inside pocket.

On the shelf above the clothes is a hat in a bag from a hat shop in Vancouver. He pockets the bag and the receipt that’s in it. The receipt is dated February 14th, this year.

Next he goes to the spare room and comes up empty. He checks his watch and sees he only has a few minutes. He turns up the cushions in the couch and chair in the living room. Nothing. He heads for the back door. He stops and turns back to lift the phone. Under it is a thin small pad of yellow stick on notes. He lifts the top one and bags it then rushes to the back door. As he crosses the back lawn he pulls off his thin gloves and waves to Trudy, pulling up to the back gate.

He jumps in and says, “Take it easy, but take us out of here.”

She pulls smoothly on through the alley and out onto the street. “Did you get anything worthwhile?”

“Won’t know till I check it out.”

“Where to?”

“Out the River Road. I’ll tell you where to pull off.”

They drive out along the Pitt River and Mike indicates the pull off that takes them down under the willows. “Park here anywhere.”

“You sure know some neat parking spots, lover. I like this one as well as the one by the falls.”

He’s busy emptying his pockets. “Hand me my briefcase, please.”

He pulls a legal size folder out and lays it on top of the briefcase. Next he lays the notepad on it and, using his pencil he works on the surface of the paper. Soon it is evident he has uncovered a shopping list. “Shit!” He turns the pad over and starts working on the words on the other side. This is not a shopping list. It’s a note. Carefully he shades the paper and the words come up in clear white letters.

“My dearest Italian Stud, Meet me after work tonight. I crave your touch, your loving touch.” It’s signed, “Your songbird, Flo.”

Trudy exclaims, “Do you think she wrote that the day she died? Oh wow! But how did she get it to him?”

“That wouldn’t have been difficult if he had a key and stayed over with her once in a while. She could just leave it on the counter. He would drop by the Gardens during the evening, smile and say, ‘See ya later.’ Then wait for her after work.”

“Do you think that’s what happened?”

Mike shrugs his shoulders, “Don’t know. It could be.”

“Your thinking of Vanuetche, aren’t you?”

“He’s not the only Italian around, but yes, I am thinking of Tony. But why would he do it? Do you feel he might be the one?”

“I don’t know. Didn’t Ray say that Tony was in the Gardens that night?”

“Yes, he said he saw him talking to some of the guys early on.”

“What else did you get?”

Mike puts the yellow paper on the folder. Once again he works with the flat side of his lead to shade the small page. This time he comes up with a phone number. He checks it against the one on the matchbook he had taken from his first visit. They match. He puts these items aside and pulls out the bag with the receipt. He asks Trudy, “Have you ever been into this hat shop on Robson Street in Vancouver?”

“Only to sight see. I couldn’t afford a hat from there. What did it look like?”

“Fairly plain, conservative, the kind of hat she would wear. Light veil over brim on dark straw with white flecks in the crown. Looked expensive.”

“Mmmmm, I wish I’d seen it.”

“I can’t imagine why anyone would pay $179.00 for it.”

“Mmmmm, I wish I’d seen it.”

“You said that once already. Can’t you say anything else?”

“Mmmmm, I wish…”

“Alright, already! You would have liked to see it. Now, sometime in the winter she dines at the ‘Viet Kitchen’. This card and matches were in a winter coat. Sounds more and more like Tony, doesn’t it?”

“You think Tony was seeing her a lot more than he’s letting on, eh?”

“It’s all circumstantial to this point, but I think that might be the case. But where does that get us? So she was dating Tony for quite a while. So what? The note to meet her could have been from any time, not necessarily from the fatal night.”

“Got anything else?”

“A micro wave oven instruction booklet.”

“What about it?”

“She didn’t have a micro wave.”

“Oh. So?”

“There are marks on her counter where a micro wave has sat. She had one but it’s not there. I don’t know if it means anything or not. I found it curious.”

“Mike, lend me your pencil.”

He gives her the pencil and she starts shading the yellow slip some more. Very faintly she uncovers another telephone number that must have been a page higher in the pad. Mike studies it and says, “That number looks familiar.”

“It’s not Tony’s number, by any chance. No, I know it’s not. I looked them up for you, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, …but I know that number. Let me think.”

“Check your cell phone. You’ve got a lot of numbers in the memory. Over a hundred, eh?”

“Never thought of that. I’ll try it.”

He busies himself checking numbers and when he comes to it, changes over to the alphanumeric readout. “It’s POCO RCMP. She must have called them about something or meant to call them.