Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Gus
KIT HURRIED OUT THE FRONT DOOR when I parked at the curb.
The weak sunlight peering through the clouds lit up his caramel-coloured hair and warmed the brown herringbone suit he wore with a tan button-up sweater vest beneath, a bright green tie tucked neatly into it.
In one hand, he clutched a fedora, his trench coat slung over his arm, like he hadn’t had time to put it on.
His other hand gripped the keys he used to hastily lock the door.
It wasn’t cold enough for his breath to fog, but this spring wasn’t warm either.
The suit looked good on him, I had to admit as he walked toward me.
It struck me sometimes since he’d been back, how much more grown up he looked.
How the boyish charm of his pretty face had matured and, while he was still too damn pretty for my comfort, his boyishness was long gone.
It was missing right alongside the carefree light in his eyes.
Self-consciousness pricked at me as he slid into my car, his gaze taking me in.
My suit was nowhere near as fashionable.
It was a dark grey one I’d been wearing since well before the war paired with a thick striped silver and red tie Mum had given me for Christmas.
They said it was patriotic to wear your old suits instead of frivolously buying new ones, and since I wasn’t allowed to fight…
I figured I’d do my part how I could. Feeling bad about it now was silly.
“Morning,” we both said at the same time, then smiled awkwardly at each other.
“How was your night?” Kit asked as I pulled away from the curb.
“Fine.” I’d gone home, felt awful for turning down Kit’s invitation to stay when he obviously needed company, and spent the evening with a few bottles too many of Keith’s.
Beer I deeply regretted now I had a headache pulsing at the base of my skull.
Plus, every so often the toast I’d managed for breakfast seemed to be deciding whether or not to make a reappearance.
“Mine was great too,” Kit said, tone flat. “Thanks for asking.”
Ignoring that, I navigated the streets, and Kit responded by staring out the window.
From the corner of my eye, I watched him prop his elbow up and rest his cheek in his palm.
Kit was attractive sulky and brooding, and the green of his tie brightened the colour of his gorgeous eyes.
I didn’t want to ache for that gaze to turn my way, but I did.
And to think, Kit’s sober demeanor had nothing on when he smiled.
Because when Kit smiled, he exuded the kind of glow people gravitated toward.
I ought to know—it had always suckered me in, too. Even when I knew I shouldn’t let it.
His skill interacting with people was on fine display all morning.
After I introduced him to Ted’s supervisor, Jim Thompson, we’d interviewed nearly a dozen people who worked with Ted.
Despite Kit’s charm and my best efforts at ferreting out the truth, all we got were vague assurances that nothing had seemed out of the ordinary with Ted.
Irritation had been simmering in my gut all morning.
It wasn’t hard to tell who was holding back information, but I couldn’t force them to tell us what they knew—that kind of magic would get me in hot water.
Using spells to manipulate minds domestically was one of the few laws about magic that had made it onto the books, and besides, it was plain wrong.
It could do unintended damage, and I’d been raised better than to cause that.
Treading a fine line with our interviews so we didn’t get booted out of the building for being too aggressive was exhausting, and my temper was spiking.
“Time for a break,” Kit declared around noon.
His shoulders had slumped more and more as the morning wore on, and now he looked beaten down and hopeless.
Before I could stop myself, I squeezed his shoulder, firmly rubbing my thumb over the back of his neck once before letting go.
I didn’t miss the way his breath hitched.
“Don’t give up. This might be a long way from over, but someone, somewhere will crack. We’ll find them.”
If he noticed that I didn’t guarantee they’d be alive, he didn’t let it show. Just sent me a soft smile that did funny things to my heart. Things I hadn’t felt in so long, I thought they’d died out and left me cold.
“Did you notice the secretary was lying through her teeth?” Kit asked. “She knows something, but I don’t see how we get her to talk.”
“I caught that too. Something hinky happened, and whatever it is, she knows about it.”
“Sure does, but the look on your face bordered on murderous. Maybe if we give her some time, and I come in playing it sweet, I can try again to get it out of her.”
I lifted one shoulder, sheepish. “The threat of murder was probably at least a little motivating, don’t you think?”
Kit shook his head, not fighting his grin. “Come on.”
As we walked out onto Lower Water Street, rushed footsteps clattered behind us.
I caught Kit’s arm and turned to see Jim Thompson racing down the hall.
His forehead was damp with perspiration, and he held up a hand to stall us.
When he caught up, he didn’t say anything, just nodded for us to follow.
Puzzled, I glanced at Kit. His raised eyebrows said it all.
Eventually, Thompson seemed satisfied we were far enough away from the plant and stopped.
He cast a quick wary glance around. “I could lose my job for telling you about this,” he said, slightly breathless.
“Well, under normal circumstances I could. If they didn’t need all their employees so badly right now.
But that won’t last forever and people have long memories. Confidentiality is important.”
“Of course,” I said, making my voice understanding. “You’re taking a big risk talking to us. But there’s a reason you couldn’t let us leave empty-handed. You’re worried about Ted, aren’t you?”
Jim took a big breath and wiped his sleeve over his forehead.
“I did call the Halifax Police on Friday. He hadn’t been in since Wednesday, and Ted never missed a shift.
If he was ever sick, I had to make him go home.
He couldn’t stand letting people down. There was no chance he just wouldn’t show up, and I told the police so.
I even went by his house to check on him, but the car was gone, and no one was home. ”
“What did the police do?” I asked, already sure I knew the answer.
“Brushed me off. Said two adults could take off if they wanted. Said they’d drop by and see if anything seemed suspicious, but no one else was reporting them gone.
” Jim puffed up, going red in the face. “And I told them of course they wouldn’t.
Kit was over in Germany, and Ted didn’t have no one else but Mary-Alice and a few fair-weather buddies. Didn’t matter to them.”
It was hard to tell whether that was worrisome.
The police were overworked, understaffed, and dealing with a population explosion caused by the military and naval regiments stationed here and the families they brought with them.
On top of that there were people passing through with every convoy that arrived and departed from the harbour.
Even so, it did seem pretty damn callous. “And that’s why you chased after us?”
Jim looked away and wet his lips nervously. “Not… no. Not exactly. But I hope it makes you take this next part seriously. Because Wednesday afternoon Mrs. Nelson reported an incident she witnessed to me. And I didn’t share that with the police because she was frightened to death.”
Mrs. Nelson was the lying secretary. Looked like Kit’s instincts were as good as mine.
“What did she see?” Kit probed.
“Another one of our employees—Lester Tomlin, a real piece of work—had Ted shoved up against the wall in the alley, his forearm across Ted’s throat.
Threatening him. Mrs. Nelson didn’t hear what he said, but she claimed it was clear Ted was being intimidated.
She must’ve made a sound, because Lester looked over at her, and she said he looked ready to kill her too.
She was beside herself. Lester shoved past her and went home for the rest of the day.
The poor dear was shaking when she told me. ”
“What did Ted have to say about it?” I asked.
“Mrs. Nelson said he just told her everything would be fine. When I asked Ted, he said it was a misunderstanding. But what kind of misunderstanding leads to a nearly crushed windpipe outside your place of business?”
“How did Ted seem the rest of the afternoon?”
“Fine. Calm. I won’t say like nothing happened, but he seemed to feel it was under control.”
“And the next day he was missing.” Kit sounded detached, and I wondered how he’d react when we came face to face with Mr. Tomlin.
Jim hummed. “That’s what I wanted you to know. Because if it was my brother missing, I’d want to know who to shake down for answers.”
“Do you have an address for Mr. Tomlin?” I asked, digging a notebook and pencil out of my inner pocket.
With the location, Kit and I left to follow our lead.
Gus
TOMLIN’S ADDRESS TURNED OUT TO BE a run-down six-unit apartment building with peeling yellowed paint and dark green mold climbing the exterior wall.
Inside wasn’t any better. The hallway floor was caked in dried and fresh mud, and the walls were damp-stained and smudged like no one had ever cleaned in here.
After climbing the sagging stairs to the second floor, we picked our way around scattered debris to the right door.