Murder at McDonald's (2 page)

Jimmy had nothing more pressing than the weather on his mind as he walked towards Prince Street, one of Sydney's main thoroughfares. He didn't even bother looking back at the big white house where he'd shared so much with his family, good times and hard alike. At about five-foot-nine and two hundred pounds, he was stocky and short compared to his brothers, who all edged close to or beyond the six-foot mark. His dark hair, thick eyebrows, and deep-set eyes could have given the twenty-seven-year-old a brooding appearance had it not been for the most dominant feature on his rounded face—his smile. Jimmy had a smile that lit up his entire body, and he was always ready to flash it. He loved life, and it showed. Not that he had much to smile about that night, as he walked along, huddled against a cold, brisk wind. Small piles of snow still clung to the ground beneath the shrubs, trees, and bushes along the way; the arrival of May was no guarantee that a Cape Breton winter was quite ready to surrender to the warmer weeks ahead. Jimmy had a keen interest in the snow and was watching closely each night as the piles got smaller and smaller.

Jimmy Fagan relaxes in the living room of his parents' home, his irrepressible smile illuminating his dark eyes and strong features. [Print from ATV video tape.]

As soon as the last remnants of snow had disappeared for another year, he could say goodbye to the job at McDonald's—and to these midnight strolls—and get back to working outside again, for his brother's landscaping company. It wasn't that Jimmy disliked working at McDonald's; in fact, he really liked it there. For one thing, he was getting a lot more work at the restaurant than he would have by returning to his old job at Zellers. Jimmy had left the department store the previous spring, when his brother offered him the landscaping job—the problem was, landscaping work fell off in the fall, and his brother couldn't afford to keep him on the payroll. Jimmy had complained to the family about the prospect of another winter at the department store; it would be all right until Christmas, but, after that, shifts would be few and far between. It was Marie, his sister-in-law, who came up with the solution; she knew Jimmy wanted to be working full time. Marie was a shift manager at the Sydney River McDonald's, a few kilometres outside the city, and the restaurant needed a back-shift maintenance worker. She would put in a good word for Jimmy if he was interested in the job. It sounded like a good opportunity, but what really sold Jimmy on the idea was that he would not be letting the restaurant down if he quit and went back to landscaping in the spring. Marie told him McDonald's always had a long list of students looking for summer jobs. If Jimmy stayed until the universities let out, he wouldn't be causing a problem by leaving, and she was also fairly certain he could get hired on again in the fall, when the students headed back to school and the landscaping work slowed down again. It was an ideal set-up for Jimmy, who had managed to keep himself working since high school; staying home and collecting unemployment insurance was not something he wanted to get into.

Only a week or so, Jimmy told himself, taking a last glance at the stubborn remains of winter as he continued walking; then he could give his notice at McDonald's and get back to some outdoor daytime work for the short Cape Breton summer. He knew he'd miss some of his new friends at the restaurant, though. Jimmy was quick to make friends; he loved to sit and chat with people, whatever the topic. His father once proudly described Jimmy as someone who never saw ugly people. He just saw people, and he liked them all.

Neil Burroughs, the other night-time maintenance worker at McDonald's, was one of Jimmy's new friends. They enjoyed each other's company on long winter nights, as they got the restaurant ready for the breakfast crew. Fortunately for the two men, their personalities were in sync. The long hours of the back shift can be tough on you, but if the time is spent talking, joking, and sharing the workload with someone you like, well, it doesn't wear on you so much. Jimmy and Neil both enjoyed a good joke or a tall tale, and they exchanged plenty of both as they cleaned, polished, and repaired whatever needed their attention before the customers and morning crew arrived.

Neil was already at the restaurant, working Jimmy's shift. The two maintenance workers had staggered shifts—11:00 p.m. to 7:00 a.m. and 2:00 a.m. to 10:00 a.m. Jimmy was usually on the early shift, but agreed to give it to Neil, who had hurt his back in a car accident a couple of months before. The early shift involved mostly cleaning and light duties; the guy on the second shift did the heavier work. Although he didn't have to be at work for almost two hours, Jimmy always headed to the restaurant early, so he could chat with the early-evening staff for an hour or so, before they went home. He was pretty sure Donna Warren and Arlene MacNeil would still be there when he arrived. Donna was a shift manager like Marie, and Arlene worked the cash counter; the two women were friends and usually left together.

Jimmy stuck his hands deep into his pockets as a blast of cold air from the ice-filled Sydney harbour swept up Prince Street. He decided to stop at Tim Hortons to get a cup of coffee to carry as he walked the rest of the way downtown. The cup would keep his fingers warm, and the coffee would help keep him from getting too tired at work.

As Jimmy waited to order his coffee, his co-workers were busy inside the McDonald's restaurant in Sydney River, a bedroom community on the outskirts of Sydney. Kings Road, the main thoroughfare to and from Sydney, is lined with restaurants, gas stations, and an assortment of other small businesses, of which McDonald's is the farthest from the city. The restaurant is perched on a hill at the point just before Kings Road dips beneath the concrete hulk of the four-lane Sydney bypass and merges with Highway 4, one of two major highways that run the length of Cape Breton Island. It's hard for hungry motorists to miss the restaurant, whether they're driving on Highway 4 or on the newer stretch of the Trans-Canada Highway that links up with the bypass on the north side of Sydney harbour and takes travellers through the centre of Cape Breton, on the northwest side of the Bras d'Or Lakes. Coming in on Highway 4 means driving right by the entrance to the restaurant, while motorists speeding along the bypass need only glance below to see the familiar golden arches.

The restaurant is typical of the single-storey McDonald's design, with its caplike roof, brown brick walls, and large windows and glass doors. The driveway climbs a steep bank to the parking lot, at the rear of the building; beyond the parking area is a field that borders the property and leads to the bypass. Along with the brightly lit glass entrances used by the public, there are two large steel doors. One of them, at the back of the restaurant, opens into the busy kitchen; this door is used by employees. The other, down at the front corner of the building, near the street, is rarely used. Like the employees' entrance, the basement door can only be opened from the inside, and even restaurant workers rarely use it, since they have little occasion to venture into that area of the basement. So there was no reason for anyone to notice, in those early-morning hours of May 7, that the basement door was slightly ajar.

The Kings Road area of Sydney River, near the McDonald's where shooting victims Arlene MacNeil, Donna Warren, Neil Burroughs, and Jimmy Fagan worked.

Upstairs in the kitchen, Neil Burroughs was chatting with Donna Warren. Donna was in the manager's small office; the door was open, and Neil stood outside, his slim, compact body relaxed as he leaned against the handle of his mop. His thick black hair and moustache accented his smiling eyes and ever-present grin; Neil often saw humour where others did not.

Neil Burroughs celebrates with friends and relatives at a family wedding. The mischievous grin means a friendly quip is not far behind. [Print from ATV video tape.]

“So now I know how you can afford that fancy new car,” Neil teased, as Donna looked up from the stacks of bills she was counting out for each daytime worker's float—a cash register insert with compartments for one hundred dollars in various denominations. Preparing the floats and locking them in the safe was one of her last duties before going off shift. “Yep, a loonie here and a quarter there,” she said. “You should have seen the look on the salesman's face when I handed him a pillowcase filled with small change.”

They both laughed as Neil returned to cleaning the floors. Donna was proud of her new car, a blue Toyota Tercel, and everyone knew it. What they didn't know was how long she had agonized over the purchase, weighing the commitment of a bank loan against her plans to go to law school someday. But the allure of that little car was more than the twenty-two-year-old could resist; besides, Donna had spent years working full time while taking courses she felt would be helpful for her career. In fact, the following week was her high-school graduation—the second one. Although she already had her diploma, Donna had enrolled in the radio and television program at Memorial High School to gain the communications skills she would need in the courtroom when she finally became a defence attorney. It had been a long haul, and she deserved the reward.

These days, Donna was basking in the pride her mother expressed in her accomplishments. Some parents can become impatient with sons or daughters who continually re-evaluate their goals and ambitions—young people who are always looking for more information, more training. But Donna knew her mother would be as proud of her at the graduation ceremony next week as she was the first time Donna “finished” school. Mrs. Warren was as delighted with her daughter's graduation picture as she was with the diploma. Donna, of course, feigned embarrassment every time she looked at the large framed photograph prominently displayed at home, but she secretly agreed with her mom that the picture perfectly conveyed the thoughtful appearance of a future lawyer. In the photo they had chosen from the graduation proofs, Donna's curly brown hair cascades over one shoulder; her chin is raised and her head slightly turned in profile. The look in her eyes, fixed on an object far away from the camera's lens, suggests a determined young woman, preoccupied with something much more important than the photograph for which she is posing. And her soft features add just the right touch of charm.