An Indecent Death (16 page)

Noonan stood up. “I told you before, and I’m telling you again now: you’ve got the wrong guy. It wasn’t me. So you can get out of here and leave me alone. Come back again, you better bring a warrant. Cuz I’m done talking to you. Now get out.”

It had been another frustrating afternoon for Lori Singh. She was starting to wonder why Drumm kept giving her this kind of assignment. She realized that there was a lot of grunt work in a murder investigation, but why did it seem that she was doing most of it? She appreciated that she was the junior member of the team but still… And, to be fair, she did have some rapport with Lynnette Cranston that Drumm and Wesson didn’t have. That only helped a little, though.

She had dutifully talked to Lynnette again, gone over the events of the previous evening one more time. She had talked to Irene Chambers to see if the good Samaritan had remembered anything else that could be of use to them. She had gone up and down the halls of Lynnette’s building, speaking to as many of Lynnette’s neighbours as were home. She had paced back and forth in the parking lot, looking for anything that had been missed before, trying to discover where Lynnette’s assailant had stood waiting, where he might have parked his car, anything at all.

And the result had been nothing, zilch, nada. It had been a complete and utter waste of time, and she suspected Drumm had known it would be but had asked her to do it anyway.

Danny the bartender was Daniel Bartnik, a man in his fifties, with grey hair and a weary, cynical demeanour. He had confirmed Madsen’s story in every particular.

“He comes in here every Friday night and has a couple of beers. Three at the most. And then he’s gone.” Bartnik was definite.

Lori asked if Madsen had ever wanted drugs.

Bartnik looked at her in disbelief. “Doug? You sure you have the right guy? I mean, you’ve got to be kidding, right?” The bartender’s face changed. “And I won’t have it said that I’m a drug dealer. You can get out of my bar now.”

Danny the bartender was pretty clearly not a source of date rape drugs. Not that she had ever thought so; that was Karl’s idea.

Lori was looking forward to a good meal and a relaxing evening at home. It was Saturday night after all – she deserved some time to herself. Maybe a nice glass of Chardonnay, maybe two. She could order in some Chinese food and spoil herself. Maybe that would help dissipate the sour feeling she had that her talents were being wasted and her career was going nowhere.

Drumm could only smile and shake his head. Every now and then, usually when he hadn’t been walked enough, Will would go into his figure-eight routine. He did it now. Drumm had walked Will over to his local park and let him off his lead. Strictly speaking he wasn’t supposed to do that but Will was no threat to anybody. The dog didn’t have an aggressive bone in his body, wouldn’t even hurt a squirrel if one were stupid enough to get caught on the rare occasions when Will even noticed them.

The figure-eight routine was a sight to behold. There was a beach volleyball court in the park and Will raced around it at the moment, tracing out an eight as he did so. Around and around he went. The dog was on about his sixth lap and sand kept flying up as Will tried his best to set a land speed record. He would keep it up, Drumm knew, until he had burned off some of his excess energy. He had no idea why Shelties ran in a figure-eight pattern but he had seen others do it, so he knew it wasn’t just that Will was crazy. Even though he suspected it at times.

Will finally gave up on the laps and came over to Drumm, as if for approval. Drumm looked at his dog, who hardly seemed out of breath, and gave him some Cheerios as a reward, saying, “Good boy, Will.” Walking with Will was a pleasing way to end his Saturday. Drumm’s day had started well with newspaper and coffee and it was finishing well, but in between hadn’t been so great.

He’d been hoping to get together with Emily but the attack on Lynnette had put a stop to that. He supposed he could have met Emily tonight but he was simply too tired. And there was Will to consider as well. No, Emily had to wait, as she had done so many times before. They did say that absence made the heart grow fonder. Emily hadn’t been impressed, though, and her manner had been frosty when they spoke on the phone earlier.

“It’s Saturday night, Nick! I thought we were going out.”

“Not tonight, Em. I just can’t, I’m too tired. It was a helluva day. Another teacher from Elmdale was attacked last night, and we spent all day following up. I’ve got nothing left.”

There had been a chilly silence and then Emily said, “It’s the same old, same old, isn’t it, Nick? Work comes first. You have plenty of energy when it comes to your job, but you can’t find it within yourself to spend a few hours with me.”

Drumm knew that it was disappointment making Emily speak this way but that didn’t make it any easier to take. Besides, she was right. He could have found some time for her.

“Don’t start, Emily. Please.”

“I don’t think you’re ever going to change, Nick. I don’t think you can change.”

“Emily—”

But she had hung up on him. Which was a good thing, because he was about to remind her that
she
was supposed to change, not him, and that would probably just have made things worse. This is what Emily had done before, get emotional and inconsistent, say something one day and something completely different another day, and the whole situation would tie him in knots.

The attack on Lynnette was unsettling, too. Was it just a random mugging after all? It was hard to make a case that it was connected to the murder. But surely it was too much of a coincidence. The trouble was, though, that he couldn’t seem to get anywhere in connecting any of the suspects to Lynnette’s attack. As discouraging as the day had been, though, Drumm still felt that he was making progress. He wasn’t there yet, not by a long shot, but he no longer felt like he was swimming in glue. He thought he knew what had happened, or rather what hadn’t happened. And tomorrow maybe some of his questions would get answered. The next day was Sunday, a day of rest for many, but he knew it wouldn’t be for him.

Kevin Callaghan lived in a century home on a quiet tree-lined street in an older part of the city. It was a two-story structure with an enclosed porch extending around three sides of the house, one of those buildings that was pleasing to the eye but required a lot of work to keep it looking that way. The grounds weren’t as nice as the house, although they might once have been; the garden edges were ragged and the tulips and other plants were struggling for room with the weeds. It was a big place for a single young male to maintain.

Callaghan answered the door to Drumm’s knock, dressed in a pair of running shorts and Nike tee-shirt. He had earbuds in and a music player strapped to his upper arm. “Detective! I was just about to go out for some exercise. What can I do for you?”

“I’ll need you to put that off for a bit, Mr. Callaghan. If you don’t mind. I need to ask you a few questions.” Drumm was friendly but firm, giving the teacher no choice but to step back and motion him in. They sat in the living room, a high-ceilinged room with plenty of light and modern furniture.

“This is a century home, isn’t it? Strange choice for a young man such as yourself. But I like what you’ve done with it.”

Callaghan was a bit off-balance, Drumm could see. “Oh, thanks. But I can’t take much credit for making the place look good. That was Julie’s doing.” Callaghan continued, “Julie was my former girlfriend. We broke up about six months ago. She left me, actually. But Julie bought most of the furniture; she did the decorating.”

“It’s a pretty big property for just one person, isn’t it? How do you keep up?”

Callaghan smiled ruefully. “Well, the truth is, I don’t keep up. I can just about manage the inside, but the gardens and lawns make me tired just looking at them. I’m afraid the weeds are winning.”

Drumm said, “I was impressed with your candour the other day. I’m hoping you’ll be as forthcoming today.” Drumm put his fingers together and leaned forward. “You said your girlfriend – Julie, wasn’t it? – had left you. Was that anything to do with Sarah Noonan?”

Callaghan looked away, then stood up. “I need something to drink. You want anything?” At Drumm’s shake of the head, Callaghan said, “Be right back.”

Drumm watched him leave for the kitchen and sat back waiting. Well, that was an interesting reaction, he thought.

Callaghan returned quickly carrying a glass of water and ice cubes. Drumm could hear them clinking as Callaghan sat down.

“You’re a sharp guy, aren’t you, Detective Drumm? Yes, the truth is, Julie left me because of Sarah. She, ah… didn’t exactly approve of my relationship with her.”

“You told Julie about Sarah?” Drumm was surprised.

“Not to say I told her, no. She found out.”

“How? Did someone tell her?” Drumm was thinking of Pierre Pepin.

Callaghan looked sheepish. “No, it wasn’t anything like that. She found some pictures that I had of Sarah. On my laptop.”

“You had photos of Sarah Noonan on your laptop? What kind of photos?”

Callaghan grinned.
He was just like an impish schoolboy
, thought Drumm. “Well, she didn’t have a lot of clothing on,” said Callaghan.

“You had nude pictures of Sarah Noonan on your laptop?” He probably shouldn’t be surprised, he thought. “Where did you get them?”

Callaghan grinned again. He was clearly enjoying himself. “I took them, actually. But they weren’t all nudes. She was just showing off a bit, mostly.”

“What happened to these photos?”

“Oh, nothing happened to them;  I still have them.”

“You know I have to see them, right, Mr. Callaghan?”

Callaghan nodded. “Sure. As soon as I told you about Julie, I knew the stuff about the photos would come out.” He stood up. “I decided you had to know about them, even if it does make me look bad. Because it shows you what kind of woman she was. I’ll go get the laptop.”

Callaghan returned inside of a minute.

As they were waiting for the computer to boot, Drumm said, “Tell me what I’m going to see. Where were they taken, for example?”

Callaghan said, “You know that Sarah was a show-off. She enjoyed dressing ‘down’, as it were, showing off her body to maximum advantage. I suggested to her that she take it to another level, let me take some pictures.” He grinned. “She loved the idea! So, she let me take some shots in a bar, and on the street, and here. And at school, of course.” Callaghan finished fiddling with the laptop and passed it over to Drumm.

The first picture showed Sarah dressed in a short, white skirt and a button-up blouse. She was sitting at a small, round table in a bar, the photographer, presumably Kevin Callaghan, seated beside her; the bartender clearly visible in the background. Drumm scrolled through the pictures one by one. In each succeeding picture, the skirt went higher and the legs further apart, until Sarah had her knees wide apart, her skirt bunched at her waist. She wasn’t wearing panties. Drumm looked up at Callaghan. “You took these?”

“Yes. She was in the mood. As you can see.”

Drumm
could
see. Sarah Noonan was clearly enjoying herself. She had a mischievous grin on her face, her tongue protruding a little. Scrolling on, Drumm saw Sarah undoing her blouse one button at a time, until her breasts came into view. They were large and braless of course, and she was definitely enjoying sitting in a public place as good as naked. Drumm looked at Callaghan again. “Could anyone see her doing this, Mr. Callaghan? Or was it all for you?”

“I had the flash turned off, so I don’t think anyone else noticed what we were up to, no. But I’m not sure that would have made any difference. She was a minx that day.”

Drumm was suddenly and vividly reminded of Emily. She could be minx-like, too. Not last night, though. No, definitely not last night.

The next few shots weren’t as clear. They had been taken in the dark in a vehicle and outside in what looked like a parking lot. The blouse was undone, with Sarah’s breasts on display. A few photos showed her from the rear with the skirt pulled up. After that there was a series of pictures inside. Drumm recognized the living room in which he and Callaghan were sitting. Sarah was completely nude in most of these, sitting in a chair with her legs over the arms, then leaning over the chair. Drumm went through these quite quickly, anxious to be done with these lewd photos. It felt wrong looking at these pictures of a dead woman, even knowing that she had been more than a willing participant. The last six photos had been taken at Elmdale Elementary School. Drumm recognized Sarah Noonan’s classroom. In these shots she wasn’t showing as much. She was sitting behind her desk, a big smile on her face, her sweater pulled up to her chin with two hands, no bra. The last one had been taken from above, looking down at her lap, past the curve of her breasts to her exposed legs, wide apart and sans panties. Even though she wasn’t showing as much in this one as in the earlier shots, Drumm found this last picture of Sarah to be the most disturbing of all, sitting in a school classroom as she was.

Drumm asked, “All of these photos were taken by you?” At Callaghan’s nod, he continued, “You realize that these pictures put your relationship with Ms Noonan in a more sinister light? This is quite a bit different than what you told us at school when we interviewed you.”

“Sinister? I don’t think so! What do you mean?”

“You lied to us before. And you clearly had a deeper relationship with Sarah than you let on. And we haven’t been able to establish that you were at Rama like you said you were.”

“I
was
there! Didn’t you look at the security camera footage?”

“We’re still checking. What about last night, Mr. Callaghan? Where were you?”

“Last night? Why on earth do you care about last night?”

“Just answer the question.”

“Last night I was with a friend in Toronto. I got home late, about midnight. Do you mind telling me why?”

“Lynnette Cranston was hit on the head last evening, on the way home from her workout.” At Callaghan’s expression of dismay, Drumm went on. “She’s fine, just a bit shaken up. It might have been just a mugging, or it might have been connected to Sarah’s murder. We’re checking into it, asking everyone what they were up to. I’ll need the name and number of your friend in Toronto.”

Callaghan nodded and went to get paper and pen. When he returned, Drumm said, “Do you know what GHB is, Mr. Callaghan?”

“GHB? No, what is it?”

“It’s a drug, and it’s used to knock women unconscious. It’s often called the date rape drug. Sarah Noonan had it in her system. Do you have any idea how that might have happened?”

Callaghan stared at him. “Date rape? Surely you don’t think I gave it to her? I didn’t need to drug her to have sex with her! Those photos prove that, surely?”

Drumm in fact did think it highly unlikely that Callaghan had slipped GHB into Sarah Noonan’s wine but he wasn’t going to admit it. Instead he said, “I’ll need your laptop as evidence. And a tour of the house and property, if you please.” When Callaghan showed some reluctance, Drumm went on. “I’ll get a warrant if you insist.” He waited politely.

Callaghan said, “No, no, it’s OK. I’ll show you around. But I can’t imagine what you think you’ll find.”

“You never know.”

In point of fact, Drumm saw nothing of interest in his inspection of Callaghan’s property. The house was just a house, with normal rooms (a lot of them), the yards just as mundane, and every bit as neglected in the back as in the front. There was an old wooden shed containing the normal array of garden tools. Callaghan owned a rusty wheelbarrow with a soft tire and Drumm looked at it carefully, but it was caked with old dirt and appeared not to have been used for some time. Drumm thought it unlikely that it had been employed to trundle Sarah Noonan’s body out of her apartment. He didn’t find a tarpaulin or a wine bottle or wine glass anywhere. A waste of time, as he had mostly expected. Except that it wasn’t really a waste of time when you eliminated possibilities.

Drumm was now on his way to Pierre Pepin’s address. The Miata cruised along and he had the windows down, the better to enjoy the cool air. It had been an exceptionally fine and dry spring so far and Drumm was trying to get the most out of it. He didn’t expect to learn much from Pierre Pepin after the interrogation he had been given at the office, but he had asked Lori Singh to meet him there. Maybe her feminine charms would elicit some disclosure from the custodian. Drumm had a search warrant as well, but they wouldn’t toss the place until he and Lori had a chance to question Pepin some more.

Lori Singh met him at Pepin’s, dressed casually in blue jeans and a Western-style checked shirt. Drumm greeted her and saw that she was surprised at Pepin’s choice of home.

“He lives in a trailer?” Lori found that odd. The street was mostly neat bungalows but this stretch had three mobile homes side by side. Pepin lived in the middle unit which had been made to look as much as possible as a regular home. There was a wooden porch attached to the side and plenty of landscaping had been done. Pepin’s trailer looked well-maintained.

“So it seems.” Drumm looked at his watch. “We’ll have some help here in about fifteen minutes to execute the search warrant. Let’s see if he’ll talk to us.”

Pepin wouldn’t let them in but did agree to speak to them through his screen door.

Lori asked, “We were wondering, Mr. Pepin, if you had thought of how that silk stocking had been put in your desk? Do you have any idea who might have put it there?”

Pepin looked at her suspiciously. “I already tol’ you, I don’t know, me.”

“Is there anyone at school who didn’t like you, sir?” Lori was doing her best to get on his good side. Drumm could see it wasn’t working, though.

“No.”

“Who might have been able to get in your room and open your desk, Mr. Pepin?” Lori persisted.

“Anybody get in. The room always unlocked. Door usually open.”

“And the desk?”

“Dat’s easy to get in too. Lock doesn’t lock good. Sometimes I just bang it with my hand, it open.”

Drumm knew that to be true, having watched the principal open it quite easily with a paperclip. Behind them he heard a car door slam and then another, and he knew his reinforcements had arrived. He fished the search warrant out of his pocket and explained to Pepin that a judge had granted the police the right to search his property. He watched as the custodian read it through the screen and became angry. Pepin stood aside as the other officers and Lori Singh entered his home. Drumm left Lori to calm Pepin down and went around the back to search the property.

Later on, joining up with Lori again, he asked, “Anything?”

“No, sir, the place is clean. Nothing resembling GHB, no women’s clothing of any type. No computer or laptop. Mr. Pepin appears to be squeaky clean. What about you?”

Drumm smiled ruefully. “The same. Nothing to see. Let’s go eat. I’m hungry.”

Drumm and Lori enjoyed a quiet lunch together at a small café. He took the opportunity to get to know her a bit better, avoiding discussing the case as much as possible. So Drumm asked about her bike-riding and other interests and she in turn discovered that he and Emily were back together. Drumm didn’t tell her about last night’s argument, though. As Karl was away for the day on business related to another case, it was just the two of them and Lori decided to broach a couple of subjects with Drumm. She’d never have a better opportunity.