Queen's Park

CHAPTER FOUR

Lane stuffed the tie into the pocket of his grey tweed jacket before opening the gate latch. The sun was warm on his back.

A dog barked.

He closed the gate, inhaling the scents of marigolds, nasturtiums and wild flowers.

The retriever’s tail whipped back and forth swatting hapless insects out of the air.

“Hello Riley!” Lane turned his hips left the instant before the dog could poke its snout into his crotch. Fingers dug into the fur behind the retriever’s ear. Riley left a trail of drool across the front of Lane’s grey pants.

He walked into the shade at the back of the house.

“The tomatoes are ready, so I figured we’d have a salad,” Arthur said, holding a bowl full of diced vegetables in his right hand.

Arthur made eye contact with Lane and winked.

Lane nodded in reply. The wink was their signal that Mrs. Smallway, the neighbour, was eavesdropping. He raised his voice. “Garden seems to be enjoying your attention.”

“It’ll be ecstatic when you get a few days off, honey.” Arthur minced his way around the words.

“We’ll have enough vegetables for Mrs. Smallway!” Lane said.

The fence boards creaked.

“Such a lovely woman!” Arthur said.

“We couldn’t ask for a better neighbour!” Lane said.

“Oh shut up!” Mrs. Smallway said.

“We were just talking about you!” Arthur said.

In reply, they heard leaves and branches rubbing against cloth. Then Mrs. Smallway’s screen door closed.

Lane sat down at the table. Arthur set the salad bowl in between a pair of plates.

Lane checked the perimeter of the yard, searching for shadows in the gaps of the fence. He reached out, gripped Arthur’s hand.

“Tough day?” Arthur said.

“Oh, it’s the Swatsky case. He just disappeared.” Lane threw his hands in the air as if releasing a bird, “Poof!”

“Not a trace?” Arthur sat across from him, scooping feta cheese, yellow peppers, green onions and tomatoes onto his plate. Riley grunted resignedly, realizing he’d be ignored during this conversation.

“Not since he left the mother-in-law’s house.”

“Tell me more.” Arthur spread a paper napkin over his lap.

“This afternoon I talked with the mother-in-law, Ernie’s grandmother.”

“The boy who was assaulted?”

“That’s the one.” Lane filled his plate with salad. “Do you want all the details?”

“Like always.” Arthur stood, “Just wait a minute.” He hurried into the house.

Lane looked at Riley who groaned and closed his eyes. “Don’t worry, you’ll get your walk.” The dog’s tail twitched. Lane organized the events in his mind as he stabbed at tomatoes and scooped up the rest. He smiled to himself. People on the force thought he worked alone. None knew the truth. Arthur worked out of their home and was his partner in solving crimes. Arthur’s eye for detail was the perfect match for Lane’s intuitive gifts. Arthur loved to solve mysteries as long as he didn’t have to leave the house.

The screen door closed. Arthur set a bottle of white wine between them.

“Trying to lubricate my memory?”

“Stimulate it.” Arthur smiled and poured.

“Ernie left when I arrived to take the dog for a walk.”

“Convenient.”

“After that, the grandmother started talking,” Lane said.

“Tell me everything.” Arthur poured wine for both.

“Every detail?” Lane took a sip.

“Yes,” Arthur nodded.

“You’re sure?” Lane couldn’t help teasing.

“Absolutely.”

“Pour me more wine.”

Between bites and wine, Lane related every detail, each observation and then, “She told me so much, I think she was trying to make it appear she had nothing to hide,…but…”

“She knew more?”

“And was dying to tell.”

“Secrets aren’t easy for her?” Arthur closed his eyes and appeared to be creating a picture of Leona in his mind.

“No.”

Arthur sat back holding the base of his wine glass atop his belly. “She mentioned Ernie’s Italian grandfather?”

“Said he was a pervert. Travels around with a love doll.” Lane stretched his lean legs.

“Silicone?”

“Life sized,” Lane said.

“Have you checked with whoever was working at the airport parking lot that morning?”

“It’s almost a week since the disappearance. I want to see what happens when I show up on the same day and time.”

“Good. Did you talk with the grandfather yet?”

“Think I should?”

“Only lives a block away,” Arthur said.

“Okay,” Lane said.

“He’s retired, right?”

“I assume so.”

“Wonder what the grandfather used to do?” Arthur said.

“I should ask, right?”

“Wouldn’t hurt.”

“Why?”

“Swatsky disappears-remember, he’s a mayor, a public figure. Three million dollars go missing. His wife goes missing but there’s a record of her boarding the plane. There is, however, no record of Swatsky doing the same. The guy is six foot four, weighs over 140 kilos and no one saw him.” Arthur pointed a finger at Lane.

“So?” Lane said.

“Ernie, his grandmother, mother and grandfather all live close together and one of them was the last to see Swatsky.”

“Oh, and there’s one other thing,” Lane said.

Arthur poured the last of the wine into Lane’s glass.

“A couple of years ago, Swatsky was close to being charged with sexual assault. The alleged victim was a 16 year old boy who decided not to lay charges but did end up with enough money to put himself though four years of college in the States.”

“Does Ernie know this?”

“I don’t know.” Lane studied the legs of the wine sliding down the inside of his glass.

“Should he?”

Lane considered the question before answering. “The kid’s really shook up about the assault. Don’t know if I want to dig too deep. I mean, his parents just split up and now there’s the attack by his Uncle. The boy’s face is bruised up, his nose is stitched and I don’t think he’s sleeping.”

When Arthur and Lane reviewed the case one month later, they decided this was where they’d made their mistake.

“Whether or not you talk with the boy, there’s one thing for sure.” Arthur put his empty wine glass down.

“What’s that?”

“Lisa and Loraine are coming over for dinner. Lisa may be able to provide some more background on Swatsky.”