Chapter 13
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The next morning Doreen woke up fairly early, but her mind was already buzzing away.
She sent Mack a text, asking if they’d gotten anywhere.
He’d worked late last night, had popped by for a cup of tea, then had left fairly quickly.
She worried about him when he was working so hard, but he just laughed and pointed out how somebody had sent, in his direction, all these cases to be closed.
With the station short-staffed, Mack was helping out with all the details.
She wasn’t sure if he was really upset or if it was just a reminder that she dealt with only a portion of the police work involved, and everybody else had to deal with the rest.
She got a response about twenty minutes later when he phoned her. “Hey,” she greeted him, yawning into the phone.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“A little tired, that’s all.”
“To be expected, I suppose,” he stated in a matter-of-fact tone.
“Maybe. How’re you doing?” she muttered.
“We’re just not getting anywhere,” he admitted in a frustrated tone. “So, do you have anything to help us along?”
“Not yet,” she muttered. “I feel as if I need to know a little more about the Burgon family though—as in, whom hated whom, and who loved who.”
“Why?”
“Because it has to be an inside job,” she shared. “How many people know who’s working at night after hours? And was the young man’s murder a case of mistaken identity, or was it to put the family on notice? Then maybe they didn’t listen, or maybe something more was going on under the surface.”
“So, you’re thinking blackmail?” he asked.
“I’m not really thinking anything at the moment. I haven’t had my coffee yet to spur on my thinking.”
He burst out laughing. “I hear that. I came into the office early because I couldn’t sleep.”
“Uh-oh,” she muttered. “Right. That’s what happens though. You get all these thoughts running around in your head, and you stay awake, wanting to check on them. Any surprises in the autopsies?”
“Nope, none. Cause of death was stabbing in both cases. The difference was, Barry was stabbed in the back, while Alice was stabbed in the front. Yet the chest and neck were involved in both killings.”
“So, very similar stab wounds.”
“Yes, and again with a kitchen knife.”
“That kitchen will have to replace those knives soon,” she muttered. “And that was the manner of death for Katie, Jillian’s mother in Alberta. Stabbed with a knife from her kitchen, in her chest too.”
Mack went silent for a moment. “I hadn’t considered that.”
“I would imagine these knives are very special, and people who use them are very attached to them.”
“Possibly,” he replied. “I think chefs tend to be pretty protective about their knives.”
“I think anybody in a shared environment is territorial about their equipment. I don’t know any mechanic who would be happy to have somebody come along and use his tools, potentially not treating them as well as he would like.”
Mack laughed. “No, we’ve had more than a few cases of that going bad too.”
“So, when you think about it, there definitely could be something along that line.”
“Sure, but now we’re just grasping at straws, trying to find a motive.”
“If you find a motive and some answers, feel free to share.”
“Same for you,” he replied, “but, as you know, if we don’t solve this right away …”
“Don’t even go there,” she interjected. “There have to be answers.”
“Sure, but that doesn’t mean we’ll find them right off the bat.”
“And that just means we’re back to people lying and cheating in order to stay hidden.”
“Of course. Nobody wants you putting them behind bars when, as far as they’re concerned, they got away with murder.”
“And it could very well be that this group gets away with murder, but I will do my best to ensure they don’t.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. What do you mean, this group?”
She frowned. “I just can’t see three murders happening in the same family ever, especially not within one decade.”
“But Barry, the young cook, isn’t from the same family.”
“But remember he was engaged to Jillian Burgon, so, except for the formality of the wedding, he was part of that same family. In fact, if money is part of the motive, we also need to consider the fact that maybe his becoming part of the family was enough to sign his death warrant.”
“I don’t think the restaurant is worth that kind of money.”
“I don’t know, but there is also the property value to consider. I just spoke with somebody who knew the business when Dave Burgon ran it and said Dave was known for letting out rooms above the pub or restaurant for prostitutes by the hour.”
“To make money?”
“Yes, I think it was to keep the business afloat.”
“It would be hard to blame anybody for doing anything they could think of to stay afloat in tough times, but that could be crossing the line,” Mack muttered. “I’m sure he’s not the only one who has pulled something like that.”
“No, I don’t think so either,” she agreed. “What I need is a motive, and it keeps coming back to the odd man out, the fiancé, Barry. So, either this is related to the Burgon family and related to money or even an inheritance, or Barry was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“I did consider that last theory,” Mack shared, “and it remains on the board, just because we don’t have answers. Still, it’s pretty skinny.”
She laughed. “Are you telling me all these theories aren’t skinny? Because, the way I see it, they’re all pretty weak.”
He chuckled. “And you could be right, but, until we can get better answers, all of these are options. What are you doing today?”
She realized she needed to contact the painter, Danny Burgon. “I’m hoping to settle on a gift for Nan for her birthday.”
“I don’t know what you’ve chosen to do, since you’ve been secretive about that,” he noted, “but you’re running low on time.”
“I need to get it resolved. Nan and Richie are having a little trouble because of this new guy at Rosemoor.”
“Uh-oh,” Mack said, laughter in his tone.
“I know, but that’s not exactly anything we want going on around Rosemoor.”
“And I think Richie is still rattled a bit after that other case,” Mack reminded her.
“Even though it didn’t turn out to be his daughter, it did involve somebody he had a relationship with.
He was pretty head over heels in love with the child’s mother, and that sort of thing leaves a mark.
The whole investigation was an emotional roller coaster for him. ”
“Right,” she agreed. “I never even thought of that with this latest upset between Richie and Nan. I need to remind Nan about that.”
“Yeah, it would be nice if somebody would cut Richie a little bit of slack.”
“Yeah, I don’t think these people are very good at cutting each other slack,” she added, with a snort. “Somehow there just seems to be a whole lot more upsets.”
“And how is that even possible?” Mack asked, a bit of teasing in his tone. “They spend all day, every day with each other. You would think they would have plenty of time to work things out.”
“Maybe that’s the problem,” Doreen pointed out. “Maybe they spent way too much time together.”
“That could be,” he muttered. “On the other hand, we’ve seen some really good things happen down there.”
“I agree, and, when I talked to management, they were really happy with how excited people were at all my comings and goings on these cold cases and how involved everybody was. I just feel bad that I don’t have a whole lot for them to do this time.”
“Maybe that’s a good thing. You can’t be the entertainment for them every day.”
“No, I sure can’t. I did ask Cleavis to come talk to me about the restaurant industry, since he had that experience. Also I forgot to mention that we need to figure out when we can go to Vancouver.”
“Vancouver?” he asked.
“Yeah, remember? To go check out Mathew’s houses?”
“Oh, right,” he replied in an odd tone. “And when did you want to go?”
“In a couple weeks, but, of course, the sooner, the better.”
“Right.”
“I really prefer that you come with me,” she added hesitantly. “I know I mentioned it before, but we didn’t really resolve it.”
“No, that’s fine,” he replied, with a sigh. “It’ll be interesting to see where you lived.”
“You mean, my gilded cage?” she asked, with a snort. “For all I know, Robin completely gutted the house and changed everything.”
“Would he have let her do that?”
“I don’t know,” she said, “and I don’t care. I have her houses to go through too,” she noted, with a groan. “And that won’t be easy either.”
“Do you have to go through them?”
“I suppose I do. There are a lot of things to consider, and I probably shouldn’t just sign off blindly, not without first seeing things for myself.”
“Right, and I’m really proud that you feel that way. So, I’ll put in for what? Three days? Four days?”
“Or we could take a long weekend,” she suggested. “Regardless, we should get all of it done if we took, … I don’t know, four days?” Then she frowned and added, “Maybe a week.”
He laughed.
“At least this way, we can make it a bit of a holiday.”
“A holiday sounds perfect. I’ll talk to the captain.” And, with that, he rang off.