Chapter 4
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For the next little bit Doreen couldn’t do a whole lot, outside of making notes and doing some internet research.
Her animals seemed to know when she was head-down into her work and pretty much left her alone.
As long as she fed them morning and night, opening the rear kitchen door for them to access the backyard, they all seemed happy enough—until they wanted to see Nan or just to walk down the creek. That suited Doreen just fine.
Then she took a break from her laptop and apologized to the animals for leaving them behind and went to the library to see if she could come up with anything there, in terms of the current murder in town.
Doreen searched for Katie Burgon, murdered in Alberta a decade ago, grumbling as she went back and forth with the microfiche articles, finding a lack of information.
The librarian came over and asked if she could help. After Doreen explained what she was working on, the librarian nodded. “That’s a pretty modern murder in microfiche terms. There’s probably a whole lot more information on the internet, especially since it happened in Alberta.”
“I did look at that,” she shared, “but there isn’t a whole lot there either. It doesn’t seem to be widely covered.”
“And that happens too. You know it does.”
“I understand, but it’s frustrating when searching for information, and it seems these journalists pick and choose who they report on.”
“It would typically be a one-paragraph article with a byline, not a whole lot more,” she pointed out. “So, if you can find that one short entry, the byline will give you someone to contact for more. Other than that, it’ll just be whatever is in the police files.”
She nodded. “And Mack is pulling those for me.”
“Oh, good,” the librarian replied in delight. “I’m really glad you’re working so closely with the police.”
“Me too. Sometimes it works out very well,” she noted, as she stood up, then looked down at the few pages she had printed off. “Just not a whole lot is here.”
“No, but you could check some of the archived newspapers and see what’s available.”
“Yeah, will do,” she agreed, and, with a smile, she headed back to her car. In the mood for Chinese, she made a quick stop at Mr. Woo’s. When he saw her, his face lit up. “I know I’m showing up midmorning,” she noted, “but I just wondered if you could whip me up something to take home for lunch.”
“Of course, of course, of course,” he stated. “Do you want to pick off the menu, or do you want me to make you something?”
She looked at him in delight and nodded. “If you could just make me something, that would be wonderful.”
He disappeared into the kitchen, muttering something to himself, but she didn’t have a clue what. When he returned, he had a bag with two containers stacked on top, and he held it out to her.
She handed him her credit card, and he refused it. “No, no, I can pay.”
“No, no, no, you no pay,” he declared. “You did for me. I do for you.”
“No, no, no, no, no, no,” she argued. “I can’t do that. It’s not right.”
He glared at her, and she glared right back. He refused to take her money, and she refused to accept the food. Finally she relented. “Fine, but … only this time.” He just nodded and didn’t say anything. She glared at him. “Otherwise I won’t come back.”
He frowned, and she nodded happily. “See? You don’t like that either, but I won’t take advantage.”
“No, no good for business if you no come back.”
“Maybe it’s not good for business if I’m here, and you don’t let me pay,” she muttered. “Seems as if everybody is struggling these days.”
He snorted. “Some places bad.”
“Sure, some places,” she muttered, “but I am not bad and the places I go aren’t bad. That’s part and parcel of what I do.”
He nodded. “You take it.” And he shoved it at her.
She glared at him, but her shoulders slumped. “Fine, thank you.” Yet she wasn’t happy. In the meantime, Doreen realized there wouldn’t be any compromise reached right now, so she snatched her to-go bag, muttering as she walked back out to the parking lot.
She went home, her mind trying to figure out how she could get him to accept payment. Otherwise she wouldn’t get her favorite Chinese food anymore, and that would suck. As soon as she got home, Nan called her.
“Any news?” Nan asked.
“No, not yet, … at least not on that case.”
“Oh, so you’ve got something else?” Nan perked up.
“As a matter of fact I do, but I also have another problem.”
“What problem?” Nan asked. When Doreen explained about Mr. Woo, her grandmother laughed. “You could just accept the free food.”
“But I want to go back and have more Chinese food,” she explained. “If he won’t let me pay, I’ll avoid going there.”
“Tell him that what you did was good enough for one payment and for you to pay next time.”
“I don’t know if he’ll accept that.”
“But this is the first time he’s done it, so maybe all he wanted was to give you free food once,” she suggested.
“Maybe.” Yet Doreen was doubtful. He’d been so determined.
“Besides, you did save both his life and his business, so the least you could do is allow him to pay you back a little bit.”
Doreen groaned. “Fine,” she muttered, trying to suppress her intense frustration. “I’ll think about what my options are.”
Nan chuckled. “You do that. In the meantime, did you say you have another case?”
“There’s a curiosity.”
“I like curiosities,” Nan stated. So, Doreen filled her in. “In Alberta and in Kelowna?” Nan asked.
“Alberta is where the mother was murdered, and we don’t know that it’s connected at all, but Mack is happy enough to have me dig into that one as long as I stay out of his current one.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Nan muttered. “And Alberta is far enough away to keep you out of trouble, at least mostly.”
“Parts of that province, true, but Calgary is in the southern region, and it’s what?
… Maybe a four-hour drive from here? So easy enough for someone to make the round trip in one day,” she muttered.
“Anyway, the next thing is this name, Burgon. It’s somehow connected to an old murder or just a possible suicide here.
Solomon’s files had Alberta connection handwritten in that file. ”
“Burgon, Burgon, Burgon. Dave Burgon?” Nan cried out.
Doreen frowned at her phone. “You know a Dave Burgon?”
“Sure, used to,” Nan stated. “The family at least.”
“This is a big multigenerational family, and Zev Burgon approached me, asking for help. Somehow Katie’s daughter, Jillian, appears to have gotten herself in trouble over this latest Kelowna murder. Her boyfriend, the cook, was killed at work. Jillian also works at the same place as her boyfriend.”
“Oh, so the police think it’s a lover’s tiff or something?”
“I don’t know what they’re thinking, and you can bet Mack isn’t telling me.”
Nan burst out laughing at that. “No, I can see Mack keeping mum on this one. He is as stubborn as you are.”
“It would sure make my life easier if he wasn’t.”
“Of course, but that wouldn’t do much toward making his life any easier,” Nan quipped, giggling.
Doreen glared down at her phone again. “I don’t think it’s that funny, Nan.”
“Oh, it’s absolutely hysterical, and you know it, child,” she declared, still chuckling. “But don’t you worry your head about it. You’ve got other things to worry about. You need to hunt down the Burgon family.”
“What do you recall about the Burgon death case here?”
“Daryl Burgon, Old Man Dave’s brother, committed suicide a long time ago—somewhere around the time of that Alberta murder in the family, I think.
But Daryl had cancer and wasn’t hanging around for an ugly end is what the rumors were all about.
I remembered thinking I was right with him on that viewpoint back then. I don’t remember much else.”
Doreen nodded. “The newspapers didn’t have very much on it at all, nor the murder in Alberta.
Now Solomon’s files did mention an Alberta connection but no explanation as to what he was thinking regarding what kind of connection to that particular file.
His files for the most part have been in the province of British Columbia, not the others. ”
“If there was any squashing of the news, I’m sure Old Man Dave Burgon had something to do with that, but he passed away a few years ago.
So, as soon as he was gone, everybody started talking about how the family seemed to slip from one tragedy to another.
Besides, I think the coroner ruled Daryl’s suicide as an accident, but no one believed it.
I certainly didn’t. But then I agreed with Daryl’s philosophy on skipping an ugly end. ”
Doreen suggested, “Old Man Burgon may or may not have tried to squash the information on Daryl’s death, but I can tell you that the newspapers did not run very much about Katie’s death.”
“Right, and I don’t remember there being any solution to the case, but did you say it was solved?” Nan asked.
Doreen sighed. “That’s a good point. I don’t have anything saying it was, but Zev told me that Katie’s murderer was never found. So, we’ve got two murders involving the Burgon family now, plus Daryl’s suicide.” Doreen started jotting down notes.
“That’s fascinating. Old Man Burgon will be rolling over in his grave. He hated bad publicity.”
“Why would he try to suppress it?” Doreen asked curiously.
“Because they ran a pub and restaurant downtown, so any bad news or negative press would be enough to dry up that kind of business. They established their business here probably ten years ago, and suddenly they were big business—important people, you know? They appeared out of nowhere to become someone.”
“Do they still run it?” Doreen asked.