Andrew did but he’d be damned if he would mention his suspicion to him or anyone else.
“Of course not. Just a figure of speech.”
Gordon asked him a few more questions about procedures - placing of props, locking of doors - then dismissed him with a warning not to leave town.
Andrew stomped down the hallway, muttering to himself. Arrogant, silly bastard, hung up on John Wayne, no doubt sees himself cleaning up the theatre corral.
Chapter 2
It took the team of detectives three days to finish their interviews with the cast, crew and Board Members of the waterfront Theatre. On the same day they wrapped it up, forty-six kilometres southwest of the city, 9:30 in the evening, the tired, elderly Evelyn Rogers was trying to open her front door. She muttered to herself about forgetting to put the front porch light on when she left last week to visit her daughter and grandson in Toronto. Hoping not to have to resort to turning the car’s headlights on, she took off her gloves, fumbled around until she felt the keyhole then married it up with her key and she was inside.
Walking carefully down the hallway, she trailed her hand along the wall until she found the light switch. It was as dark inside as it was outside for Evelyn Rogers lived three kilometres from Peggy’s Cove, on a private gravelled road with no other dwelling except for a hunting cabin one kilometre past her house.
As soon as she had lights, she went down into the basement, turned on the hot water tank and raised the furnace temperature setting. Climbing back up the steep stairs, she walked straight to the front door, out to the car, opened the trunk and lifted out her suitcase.
Thirty minutes later, she sat in her rocking chair, sipping tea and listening to the news broadcast on the radio. She looked over the stack of newspapers she had brought in from the box her husband had built at the end of the driveway. She never cancelled her subscription when she went away because she loved nothing more than reading the paper each morning, front to back, finishing with the crossword puzzle.
Walking over to the pile, she sorted them by date and placed them in the magazine rack by the rocking chair. Tomorrow morning she’d go into the village to pick up her mail and once that was sorted; she’d be able to begin a thorough scrutiny of the daily newspapers.
If Evelyn Rogers had read the papers beginning with the latest edition, she would have seen the picture of Jeffrey Stone, learned of his murder, and contacted the police station much sooner.
***
Kate opened the curtains to another sunny fall day and longed to don her running gear and hit the park. Before she bought the Condo, she and Abir used to meet early for their morning run. She missed it running with her friend more than she thought possible. Nothing ever stays the same. She turned from the window and got ready for work.
Forty minutes later, she parked her car and headed for her favourite coffee shop. Ten minutes later she was on her way to the precinct, the vapour from the hot coffee mingled with the cool autumn air and formed a thin cloud over her head. My kind of halo, she thought, evaporating too fast for any goodness to permanently settle in.
Nodding at Withers sitting behind the plastic, bullet proof bubble, she opened the stairwell door. Holding her coffee high, she took the stairs two at a time. Reaching the third floor, she switched her coffee to the other hand, opened the door and walked into the noisy squad room. Making her way through the congestion, she entered the hallway leading to the shared offices.
Roger was sitting at his desk sipping precinct coffee, she’d recognize that smell anywhere. He looked up as she came in the room, glanced at his watch and shook his head.
“Well, well, this is a first. A late Kate.”
Ignoring the remark, she laid her coffee on the gray steel desk that butted up against Roger’s, turned on the lamp, and booted her aging PC.
Her phone rang. It was Janet, Gordon’s P.A.
“The boss would like to see you and Roger in his office.”
“When?
“Now.”
“Okay, we’re on our way.”
“On our way where”, Roger asked.
“Gordon’s office.”
Roger led and Kate trailed behind sipping her coffee. Entering the small office, they sat side-by-side on the cold metal chairs facing Gordon’s desk.
“Good morning. I hope you the two of you slept well, we have a lot to do. Couldn’t find either one of you ten minutes ago so I told Withers and Shirley Proctor I wanted them at the Coroner’s office by 9:00am.”
“It’s only 7:50”, Kate said. “You were lucky you found anyone here.”
“Don’t start, Kate. I’m splitting the two of you up this morning. Kate, you’re to interview....” he stopped speaking and shuffled his papers.
Kate and Roger exchanged a quick glance.
“Catherine Stone, the victim’s wife.”
“Ok.”
“Roger, you’re to meet with Henry Ward, the producer, at the crime scene. He’s putting the heat on already. Had the damn nerve to call the Chief and ask when they could expect get the theatre back? Smug little prick. Okay, that’s it. See you at the briefing.”
Back in the office, fingers flying across the keyboard, Kate didn’t reach for the phone until the fifth ring.
“Good morning, Kate. It’s Susan. We didn’t get a chance to speak the other night at the theatre and I know you must be busy so I won’t keep you long. Alexis and I couldn’t believe our eyes when we spotted you and Roger. Something nasty must have happened behind those curtains.
Kate sighed. Susan hasn’t read her morning paper yet.
“But not to worry, Kate, I didn’t call to snoop. Alexis and I are in town for three weeks to do some research for the Director of our small town theatre. That’s part
