Inspector Green Mysteries 9-Book Bundle (184 page)

Belatedly, a thought struck her, for she sucked in her breath. “Has something happened? Riley hasn’t been himself this weekend—even the visit here was unexpected, his dad decided he needed a break. But why do the police want to speak with him?”

Green had already decided on the version of the truth he was going to offer. Innocuous but credible. “A girl at his school died this past week, and we’re interviewing all her friends to find out what happened. Riley was in one of her classes, and we understand they were friends.”

Mrs. O’Shaughnessy looked dismayed. “How awful. How did she die?”

“We’re not sure. Her body was pulled from the river near the waterfall where she disappeared.” He provided just enough detail to nudge her toward the conclusions he wanted.

“We have the same problem here. Every year kids do reckless things and drown in the St. Lawrence River.” She frowned. “I wonder if that’s why Riley has been so upset this weekend.”

“Upset in what way?”

“He didn’t say. Riley works everything out on his bike. Or on the ice. He just goes really quiet, takes out his bike, and disappears for hours. Racing along the river parkway, sometimes all the way to Brockville. If he hadn’t gone into hockey, he could have been a competitive bike racer.”

“Did he say anything at all?”

She shook her head, looking distressed, as if she’d somehow failed to help him.

“To his father, maybe?”

“That’s unlikely. His father is not much of a talker either. Oh, he would do anything for Riley. He’s our only son, and Ted used to do everything with him. All those endless hockey practices—I was busy with the girls—and the private skating lessons and the hockey camps.”

Green nodded, grateful that all Sullivan’s whining over the years was coming in handy. “Yes, I have a friend who’s a really dedicated hockey dad. Even on a good salary, it’s hard to keep up.”

“Ted works hard and makes a decent living for us, but not for all the equipment and the camps Riley needed to keep up with the other kids. And the girls need things too, and it’s not really fair...” She checked herself. “That’s why Ted was so keen when Vic came along. Someone who knew the business and could look after Riley’s interests in all this. He handles all the sponsors and endorsements too. Riley’s an extraordinary hockey player, but he’s still just a boy.”

Through the living room window, Green saw a battered white pick-up truck slow and turn into the drive. A man climbed out, paused to eye Green’s Subaru at the curb, and headed up the walk. He had a leathery, sunburned face, a long, reedy body and a full head of curly salt-and-pepper curls, yet Green recognized the resemblance to Darren O’Shaughnessy immediately. This must be Riley’s father.

His wife’s smile turned to dismay as he walked in the door without a word of greeting. “Where are the girls?” she asked.

He didn’t look at her but instead rivetted his tense gaze on Green. “They wanted to play at Brandy’s new house. Who’s this?”

“This is a detective from Ottawa, waiting to see Riley.”

“Mike Green. And you’re Ted O’Shaughnessy?” Ted took a step back like a wary fighter.

“What’s this about?” “He wants to talk to Riley about the girl who died. I told him maybe that’s the reason Riley’s upset.”

“He’s not upset. He’s got a big day coming up. What kid wouldn’t be on edge?”

“So you haven’t noticed anything?” Green asked. Ted shrugged as he took off his suit jacket. “Nothing that a bit of peace and quiet won’t fix.”

“I think Mr. McIntyre’s riding him too hard,” the mother said. Ted headed into the kitchen, returning with a can of Coke. “I keep telling you, Noreen. He needs that. He’s a big boy, and it’s a tough world he’s getting into.”

“How did he meet Mr. McIntyre?” Green asked casually.

Ted cracked open the Coke and dropped into a chair by the window. “Vic used to be a scout, and before that a minor league trainer and coach in Toronto. He knows his stuff. He saw Riley when he was playing for the Midget team here in Gananoque. He was only fourteen and sprouting up like a beanpole, but even back then he was already being talked about and winning scoring trophies. He was fast, and he could handle the puck.”

“That was Ted’s doing,” Noreen said. “Ted got him in just about every skating class he could find between Brockville and Kingston, and every winter he flooded our backyard...”

“Noreen, I don’t think the detective wants a blow-by-blow.” She twisted in her chair with an effort and gestured to the big empty backyard, most of which now lay in weeds. “Ted never let me plant a thing. He made the biggest rink he could, and he and Riley would practice, practice, practice. Ted was a pretty fair goaltender in his day, and he’d challenge Riley to rush him. To this day, Ted insists that’s why Riley’s so good at scoring.” Her eyes glowed with pride, as if she could talk for hours about her son. Privately, Green was ticking off all the people who had a major stake in Riley’s success. His parents, his agent, even Uncle Darren, for whom Riley was an inspiration to his own son.

Ted, however, fiddled with his Coke irritably and glanced outside. “I don’t think Riley’s coming back any time soon. I don’t want to waste your time, detective.”

Green shrugged. “A few more minutes is no problem. Did you ever get up to Ottawa to see his games?” “Oh yes,” Noreen said. “Ted hated to miss a game when it was in this area—Belleville, Kingston, Ottawa.” She laughed.

“We’ve seen every cheap Super 8 hotel in a five hundred kilometre radius. At least Ted has. It was harder for me, with the girls at home and...” She paused, and a look of sorrow stole over her face. “I tried to get to some of the games.”

“You don’t mind the driving, Ted?”

“It’s not that far. But I’m self-employed, and every hour missed is a dollar lost, so it can be tough.”

“At least in Ottawa, Ted has his brother to stay with,” his wife countered. “A good excuse for the brothers to get together.” Again a faint distaste twisted her smile. So the brother-in-law, like the agent, is not on her list of favourite people, Green thought.

“You don’t stay with Riley’s agent?”

Ted looked surprised. “Oh, no, McIntyre keeps our relationship strictly professional, pretty much between Riley and himself.”

“So you don’t discuss Riley’s affairs with him at all?”

“Not since he turned eighteen. Like I said, he’s a big boy.” Green allowed a little incredulity into his voice. “Maybe, but you don’t grow up overnight, no matter what the law says.”

Ted’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t reply. Noreen flushed at the implied rebuke. “That’s the way Mr. McIntyre wants it. Besides, Riley’s always known exactly what he wants. Some of the media and the other parents used to accuse us of pushing too hard, but it was always Riley doing the pushing. He was always so focussed and organized, no theatrics or hidden agendas. Strong-willed, yes—but that’s a good thing in a man. No matter what you asked of him, he could do it and more.”

“Still, it’s a big complicated world he’s stepping into. Full of people who might try to take advantage.”

Both of them sat very still for a moment, then Noreen gave him a long, searching look. “Do you have something else on your mind, Inspector? Besides the classmate who died? Is there something we should know?”

“About what?”

“You’ve asked questions about Mr. McIntyre, and now you’re talking about people taking advantage.” Of all the topics he had casually covered, Green found it interesting that she had connected those two. He decided to push it. “I do have concerns, yes, about the possibility of exploitation or manipulation when I hear that McIntyre is working directly with Riley.”

She got to her feet, and for the first time he noticed the effort it took. The woman is not well, he realized. She walked to the window and leaned against the frame, peering out into the street as if hoping her son would appear safe and sound.

“It’s simple business sense,” Ted snapped. “Look at all the endorsements McIntyre’s lined up already. He stands to make a whole lot more money if Riley does well, so he’s not going to do anything to harm him.”

“I know you say that, honey, and it makes sense, but...”

“But money isn’t everything, is it,” Green added softly. “There’s his health and his happiness.”

Ted crushed the empty Coke can in his fist. “You know this is what Riley wants, Noreen. Ever since he first stepped on an ice rink. He lives and breathes hockey!”

“But that’s the point. He’s never known anything but hockey. What other career does he have to compare it to?” she said, gesturing to their dilapidated backyard cluttered with rusty chunks of engines and tools. “There’s the folks around here, scraping to make ends meet, and then there’s the folks on Millionaires’ Row on the St. Lawrence. Waterfront estates so extravagant it would take most of the budget of Gananoque to keep them running. That’s what money buys.”

As if by uncanny coincidence, a low rumble sounded in the street, and Green glanced through the window to see a flash of red pull into the drive. Noreen gasped and hurried to fling wide the front door. Green followed in her footsteps just in time to see two men climb out of a shiny red Ford Mustang. One he recognized as Riley O’Shaughnessy, his cheeks ruddy and his dark curls whipped by the wind. The other was a stubby, middle-aged man stuffed into an unflattering green golf shirt and black stovepipe jeans. He had a pugnacious jaw and small, pig-like eyes that sized up the O’Shaughnessys shrewdly.

“Mom! Dad!” Riley shouted. “My graduation present!”

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” Ted muttered, yanking his tie loose as if it were strangling him. Then he turned his back and disappeared up the stairs.

Anger rather than delight flitted across his mother’s face. “But Riley, you can’t afford that!”

The stubby man held up his hand. “It’s only leased, Mrs. Noreen. We traded in his old Jeep and got a good deal. Plus it’s a business expense. It’s just a little fun leading up to draft day.” He reached up and ruffled the boy’s hair. “Handsome devil, isn’t he? He’ll be fighting off the girls. But the camera will eat it all up too, and that won’t hurt his image one bit. When the big endorsements roll in, he’ll be able to buy each one of you the car of your dreams. That old pick-up of Ted’s? History.”

Then the man, whom Green took to be Vic McIntyre, caught sight of him standing in the open doorway, and his slick grin vanished. Does the guy know I’m a cop, Green wondered, despite the cottage jeans and
T
-shirt?

McIntyre marched towards the door, making no pretense of civility. Staring hard at Green, he addressed the mother. “Is this one of Riley’s cousins?”

Noreen said nothing for a moment before her own civility finally won out. “No, this is Inspector Green of the Ottawa Police.”

McIntyre’s lips tightened, but he showed no surprise. He knows exactly why I’m here, Green thought, and why I want to question Riley about Lea Kovacev. “Aren’t you way out of your jurisdiction, Inspector?”

“Police Services cooperate all the time,” Green replied breezily. It was true, although the fact that he hadn’t mentioned his presence to the Gananoque Police made it misleading. But for this asshole, he suspected loopholes were the essence of the law.

“Have you got some kind of warrant? Otherwise I don’t believe we have to tell you shit.”

“You don’t have to, although at that point I obviously get suspicious, so I call in the
OPP
and I escort Riley back to Ottawa, where we have a nice, formal taping room for interviews.

Someone from the media is bound to get hold of that.”

McIntyre’s jaw thrust out further. During this interchange, Green was aware of Riley walking around his car, brushing dirt from its sides. In person, he was an extraordinarily charismatic presence. Taller and more powerfully built than his father, he moved with the grace and agility of a cat. Vitality radiated from every muscle. Now he turned to walk up towards the house, and he caught sight of Green. His jaw dropped, his step faltered. Robbed of energy, he looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. His eyes were hollow and shot through with red, and his whole face seemed to sag. He looked at Green not with puzzlement but with fear.

The boy too knows why I’m here, Green thought.

“Don’t you fucking threaten me,” McIntyre was saying. Not a guy for subtlety.

Green drew out his notepad. He loved the drama of that prop. “What’s your name, sir?”

“I’m Victor McIntyre, not that it’s any of your fucking business.”

Riley’s mother stepped in. She had been watching the drama in silence, but flinched at every vulgar word from the man’s mouth. “Vic—”

The attempt at caution was futile. McIntyre shot her a look that bordered on contempt. “I hope you two didn’t tell him anything, Noreen.”

Noreen flushed. “Just general chitchat. Riley’s career, ah...”

Green rescued her. “Are you Riley’s lawyer?”

“I’m his agent.”

“In that case, Mr. McIntyre, you have no standing in this matter. You are neither his lawyer nor his relative, besides which Riley is eighteen, so he speaks for himself.” Green manoeuvred himself between McIntyre and the boy, who was hanging back at the bottom of the steps. “How about we grab a coffee somewhere, Riley? My car is right over there.”

He nodded towards the Subaru sitting at the curb. Riley had begun to rally some confidence, perhaps from his asshole agent, and his expression had become guarded.

“I don’t have anything to say that can’t be said in front of them.”

“You’re probably right. But you never know what topics we’ll discuss. In my experience, people always find they’re more comfortable in private.”

“The boy doesn’t want privacy,” McIntyre interrupted. “He wants support.”

Green ignored him with an effort. “This will only take half an hour, and I’ll have you back in plenty of time for your party.”

Riley shot McIntyre a glance that Green couldn’t interpret. Part questioning, part pleading. But also perhaps, part fear? “I’d like him to be present,” he said. “He can stay if I request it, right? If I give permission?”

Green debated how to proceed. He could press the issue, but risked losing Riley’s cooperation altogether. But he was damned if this loudmouth bully was going to censor the boy’s every answer. “If you want someone present, I suggest your father. We’re going to be discussing personal things, Riley. Your father is the most appropriate person.”