Never Hug a Mugger on Quadra Island (9 page)

He was a cute kid. About as tall as Shane, fuzz on his upper lip, a few blackheads he'd likely tried to squeeze this morning. The sophomore look. “If you have some juice—”

Linda shouldered the freezer shut and backed away. Tim dove into the fridge. Alana said to Linda, “May I help you?”

Linda plopped containers on the counter. “We can have pasta with clam alfredo, have to nuke these and boil the noodles. Tim, please go pick salad stuff.”

Tim handed Alana a glass. “Blueberry cranberry.” He took a bowl and headed outside.

“When he comes back, you can wash the greens,” Linda said. “I'll make some dressing and get the pasta started.”

“Is Shane always this quiet?” Alana asked.

Linda lifted a container lid and looked inside. She'd have been really pretty when young, Alana thought, dark hair, curvy figure. She wasn't bad even now, probably forty, a few wrinkles, streak of grey. “Oh well, teenagers have phases,” Linda said, “I don't suppose I have to tell you.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

A few minutes later Tim banged back in with a bowl dripping greens—lettuces, arugula, cilantro, mustard. Mostly leaves Alana didn't recognize.

She started washing. “Did you say someone's helping Shane's career? Or does he get grants and things?” She'd heard Canadian athletes got government grants. “Is there a foundation like in the States?”

“Sort of. He's carded so he gets some federal funding but it's darn small. He's got a sponsor.” Setting the table, Linda asked Tim, “Did you speak to Austin at the rink?”

“Not much. He and Shane pretty much stopped talking when Dad and I came in. Like they'd been arguing. You want a beer, Mum?”

“That would be nice.” She smiled at Tim. “In a glass, please.”

“Coming up.”

Alana thought of Derek, the lump under the covers at the hospital. And Shane, upstairs.

•  •  •

Immediately beside the arena, Campbell River's RCMP headquarters. Five cop cars sat in front. A large flag rippled in the wind, its red maple leaf proclaiming, You Have Reached An Official Place. They walked in the front door. At a desk Noel asked for Bryan. Kyra asked for the bathroom and disappeared. By the time Dorothy Bryan, taller than Noel by at least half a foot, walked toward them, Kyra had returned. She reached out her hand. “Jason. How's it going?”

“What we want to ask you. Dorothy, this is Noel Franklin and Kyra Rachel.”

“Kyra. Noel.” All shook hands.

About thirty, thirty-two, thought Kyra. Broad in the shoulders, good rounded face. Attractive enough except for that crew cut. “Thanks for seeing us.”

“Come on back to my office, a little privacy.” They followed her through a doorway into a common area, desks, a two-way radio, several computers, file cabinets, to a door which she opened and gestured for them to enter. They did. She grabbed a couple of folding chairs, followed and closed the door behind them.

They all sat, Bryan at her desk. The surface, Kyra noted, held mainly a thin computer screen and a keyboard. The screen sat on two Victoria phone books which raised the screen by four inches. Head level for a tall woman?

Jason said, “Dorothy, these are the detectives I told you about.”

“Jason says he's hired you. Great, we're glad to take help.”

Kyra said, “What can you tell us about Derek's case?”

She pulled a file from a desk drawer and opened it. “We got a 911 call at 11:19
PM
, somebody was lying on the ground out at the end of Evergreen Road. That's—”

“We've just come from there,” said Kyra, thinking, that file is pitifully thin.

“Good. So you can picture it.”

“The call was from Marcie something?”

She glanced at the file. “Yes. Marcie Williamson.” To Kyra, “You've been busy.”

“We just spoke with her mother. Sarah McDougal.”

“Right. The lady with the dog. She said she'd stay till we showed up. We got there—that's my partner Harry Latiche and me—a couple of minutes after the first responders. It was a code three for us, which means they can't touch the victim till there's an officer on site. So we checked out the wounded kid. Unconscious. The first responders stopped most of the external bleeding, covered him with a blanket. Couple of minutes later the ambulance arrived, it's a code five for them. They got there quick, considering it's got to be a local driver that takes the ambulance out—first responders can't do that. The medic examined Derek and figured it was bad enough to get him to Victoria ASAP, so they brought him to the helipad and whirred him off. Unconscious all the time down there. They patched him up as best they could. Nothing more to do so he's back here.”

Noel said, “You spoke with Sarah McDougal, did you?”

“Of course. She told us about some cars that stopped where Derek was beaten. She waited till they left before going for her walk.”

“Two cars,” said Kyra. “And a truck.”

“That's right. The truck belonged to the victim—” Bryan glanced at Jason—“to Derek.”

“And,” said Kyra, “the other truck.”

Bryan looked her way. “Go on.”

“Mrs. McDougal mentioned another truck or van parked across the street. She wasn't sure if she'd mentioned that to you.” Kyra described what they'd learned.

“Interesting. Anything else?”

She presented Bryan with their two hypotheses.

“I'll go have another talk with Mrs. McDougal. Thanks for shaking that loose.”

Noel asked, “And your investigation? Where are you?”

Bryan shook her head. “Front burner. But we've talked to his friends, his girlfriend, his family, his teachers. Nobody can guess why anybody'd want to do this. We got his DNA in case there was somebody else's blood on him, his medical records, his credit card and bank card, his phone records—the whole family's phone records for the previous month.”

“The whole family?”

“Yeah. No leads there either.” She grinned at Jason. “The Coopers have a quiet telephone life. No long distance calls except to Shane when he's training or competing. Shane's made a couple since he's been home, to his sponsor in Ottawa. And that's it.”

“Nothing helpful in Derek's truck?”

“Nada. Course if anything was stolen it wouldn't be there.”

Being sly? “And?”

“We taped off the crime scene and searched the area but it was a dark night and we didn't have any big beams. A team came out in the morning, walked the grid, sent stuff over to the lab. If any of it's relevant we can't figure out how.”

“The lab's where?” Kyra was thinking, non-relevant evidence, no sense of possible theft, friends and family know nothing. And I don't believe it.

“Vancouver.”

“What happened to the truck?”

“We taped that off too, notified next of kin—that'd be Jason—then towed it to a secure bay. We checked it out. Nothing out of place. It's back at Jason's.”

“Anything else?”

“Wish there were.”

Noel stood. “Thank you.”

“You learn anything, you let us know.”

“Will do.” The others got up and followed Dorothy Bryan to the front desk, and went out.

“See?” said Jason. “All dead ends.”

“Got to scrape at ends,” said Kyra. “Sometimes they're not dead, just hidden.”

To Jason, Noel said, “Think she knows more than she's saying?”

Jason paused. “She told me once about a kind of information that's called holdback evidence. The kind of stuff only a suspect would know. If they have any of that, they wouldn't be telling me. Or you.”

Noel checked his watch. 4:23. “Jase, where do his Campbell River friends live?”

“I can find out.” Jason went back into the station, returned a couple of minutes later. “Got phone numbers and addresses for Joe, Mike, and Gast. Check to see if anybody's home?”

“We've maybe got time for one of them, if he's close,” Noel said.

Jason pressed in one of the numbers. Ten rings, no answer. Second number. “That you, Joe? . . . It's Jason Cooper, Derek's dad . . . Yeah, so are we . . . Listen, can I come over for a few minutes? . . . No, right away, we're so worried about Derek . . . Okay, I've got a couple of friends with me, they're helping . . . Okay, see you in five.” He closed the phone. “He lives up on Peterson. Real close.”

Right on Dogwood, left on Evergreen, right on Peterson and they arrived in four minutes. A small low house with a long wide porch. Two young men, one with a shaven head and the other with long brown hair, sat in plastic chairs, drinking beer. Noel, Jason and Kyra headed up the short cement path to the porch.

The long-haired one got up and waved. “Hi there!”

Jason led Kyra and Noel up the steps. “This is Joe, Derek's friend.” He introduced Kyra and Noel.

Joe said, “And that stewpot sitting there's another friend, Gast Robitaille. That's real shit what happened to Derek.”

“Noel and Kyra are trying to find out who did it. They want to talk to you both.”

“Sure,” said Joe. “Here.” He opened three steel folding chairs and they all sat.

Noel would have preferred to interview the two separately. No choice now. “Joe, you're good friends with Derek?”

Joe looked over to Gast, who said, “Three of us are—were—god, I hope not—are best friends.”

“When was the last time either of you saw Derek? Before he was beaten, I mean.”

“Musta been three or four days before that.”

“We used to hang out a lot. Less in the last coupla months.”

“He has this girl that he's hot for.”

“She's pretty hot for him, too.” Gast leered at Kyra. “Cindy.”

“Day before he got hit, they went to her grad dance. And the evening before that they were together, too. Long evening, Derek said.”

“So you talked to him, but didn't see him.”

“That's it,” said Joe.

“Yeah,” said Gast. “Yeah.”

“What did you talk about?”

“Shootin' the breeze,” said Joe.

“Anything about being in trouble, problems at home?”

“Naw,” said Joe, “he was pretty easy at home.”

“What about at school? Trouble with teachers, other students?”

“One guy he didn't like—Prof Smothers. Teaches in HDCTM. He's—”

“What's that?”

“Heavy Duty/Commercial Transport Mechanics. That was Derek's program. He was about to start his apprenticeship. Just before he was hit.”

“What about this professor, Smothers?”

“They just didn't get along. But it didn't matter he didn't like Smothers, Derek was still acing the course. Acing most of his courses.”

Kyra broke in. “What's your sense of Cindy?”

“She's okay,” Joe said.

“Just okay?”

“Okay for Derek.”

“You like her?”

“Hey,” said Gast, glancing at Joe, “that's Derek's business.”

“The day he was beaten, did you see him or talk to him?”

“No,” said Joe, as Gast said, “Yeah.”

“Yes and no?”

“Hey,” said Joe, “you couldn't have. We were working on your car all day.”

“Come on, we talked on the phone. You remember? We had to ask him—dunno—it was more'n three weeks ago.”

“And when you talked,” said Kyra, “how did he sound?”

“Like Derek. Why d'you want to know how he sounded?”

“Worried? Scared? Angry?”

“Maybe kinda excited,” Gast grinned. “Like he was in the middle of a big project.”

Joe turned to stare at Gast. “What project?”

“Cindy! Like he was in the middle of Cindy!” Gast giggled.

Joe shook his head. “Give it a break, Gast.”

Noel glanced at his watch. “Thanks for your time, guys. You think of anything else, get in touch, okay?” He handed them each an Islands Investigations International card. “Use the cell numbers.”

Through the whole interview Jason had said nothing. They returned to the Honda and followed Jason's directions.

Kyra said, “Too casual by half.”

“They're kids,” said Jason. “Derek spent a lot of time with them.”

“Until Cindy came along,” said Kyra.

“I think she was settling Derek down, cooling him out.”

“What was he like before?”

“Just a normal kid.”

“Drinking beer, smoking pot, having lots of sex?”

“I guess. Twenty years old, that's what they do.”

“But after Cindy came along?”

“Oh, more responsible. Like the guys said, acing his courses.”

Noel glanced at his watch. 5:05. Into the office parking lot. They got out, walked in, and Jason said to the receptionist, “We have an appointment with Dr. Pierce.”

She scowled, recognizing him. “I'll tell him you're here.”

Kyra said, “Looks like the 6:15.”

At 5:25 a kid with a stethoscope about his neck approached Jason. “Hello.”

Jason gestured to Noel and Kyra as he introduced them. “This is Dr. Pierce.”

Kyra hoped her shock didn't show on her face. The man looked barely twenty. Tall and skinny, ruddy face, thin eyebrows blond like his hair, small hands. She pulled herself together. “We're investigating the Derek Cooper incident. What's his condition, medically?”

Pierce turned to Jason. “You're okay with my answering their questions?”

“I brought them here for that.”

He led them to his office and closed the door. “I've told the police all I know.”

Kyra said, “It'll help us hearing you directly.”

He nodded. “Derek endured a major trauma. Major traumas. He has severe traumatic brain injury, as well as injuries on his ribcage, pelvis, shoulder and both upper arms. As you know, Jason, it's something of a miracle he's still with us. He must have a powerful will to live.”