The K Handshape

The K
Handshape

The K
Handshape

MAUREEN
JENNINGS

A CHRISTINE MORRIS MYSTERY

A Castle Street Mystery

Copyright © Maureen Jennings, 2008

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise (except for brief passages for purposes of review) without the prior permission of Dundurn Press. Permission to photocopy should be requested from Access Copyright.

Editor: Barry Jowett
Copy-editor: Marja Appleford
Design: Jennifer Scott
Printer: Webcom

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

Jennings, Maureen
      The K handshape / Maureen Jennings.

(A Christine Morris mystery)
ISBN 978-1-55002-763-1

      I. Title. II. Series: Jennings, Maureen. Christine Morris mystery.

PS8569.E562K25 2008              C813’.54              C2007-904679-7

1  2  3  4  5          12  11  10  09  08

We acknowledge the support of the
Canada Council for the Arts
and the
Ontario Arts Council
for our publishing program. We also acknowledge the financial support of the
Government of Canada
through the
Book Publishing Industry Development Program
and
The Association for the Export of Canadian Books
, and the
Government of Ontario
through the
Ontario Book Publishers Tax Credit program
, and the
Ontario Media Development Corporation
.

Care has been taken to trace the ownership of copyright material used in this book. The author and the publisher welcome any information enabling them to rectify any references or credits in subsequent editions.

J. Kirk Howard, President

Printed and bound in Canada.
Printed on recycled paper.

www.dundurn.com

For Iden as always

To make the sign for “to kill” make the K handshape and strike against the opposite hand in a sharp downward motion. (American Sign Language)

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

As usual there are many people to thank who shared their time and expertise with me during the course of my writing this book. At the Behavioural Science Centre, OPP Headquarters in Orillia: Acting Detective Superintendent, Director Behavioural Sciences Section, Angie Howe; Detective Staff Sergeant, Criminal Behavioural Analysis Services, Chris Loam; Detective Sergeant Criminal Profiling Unit, Ed Chafe. Ontario Provincial Police Constable Doug Thomson; Cadet Robert Brigden, Northern Constabulary, Outer Hebrides; Inspector Philip MacCrae. Thanks to the following people for letting me bend their ears in consultation on police matters: Kim Peters (Ret.) and Donald Adams, who will always find whatever I need. For matters regarding Deaf Culture, Linda Scott of the Canadian Hearing Society in Toronto and Michelle Tasch. A special thanks to Jane Hooey and her father, Bob (Buf) Hooey. To those who helped me get my facts straight on how casinos work, thanks. You know who you are but they mustn’t. A special thanks to Dave Snake of The Gathering Place, Casino Rama, Orillia. My friend and wonderful architect, Mark Hall, took time to show me around the beautiful Elgin Bay Club, so I could make the living space of my character believable. To the authors of all the invaluable books on serial murderers, thanks. We didn’t meet personally but your work assisted me enormously.

CHAPTER ONE

It was not yet six and the night darkness had hardly shifted, the reluctant concession to morning signified by faint strips of light in the east. Lake Couchiching, aptly called Lake of Strong Winds, was black and malevolent, white-capped waves slapping onto the sodden beaches. The park was deserted except for Leo and me and a man walking his dog by the bandshell.

As best I could in the murky light, I was inspecting the shoreline near the trees, while Leo had elected to search along the edges of the concrete pier. He was walking slowly, peering down into the choppy water.

“Christine! Here!”

I turned to see him drop to his knees and start to tug at something that had snagged underneath the pier. I ran to him, not quite able to identify the nature of the bundle but fearing the worst.

And it was.

Leo had hold of a body and he was struggling to maintain his grip as the waves kept shoving the whole thing back on the underlying rocks. I joined him and reached down to grab the jacket. Together we managed to drag the body to the surface but it was too waterlogged to bring up any further, even with the two of us. A white face floated into view, a young woman whose long dark hair was waving out in tendrils around her head. I didn’t have to ask if it was Deidre. It was obvious from Leo’s stricken expression that it was.

“Hold her,” he cried.

Before I could stop him, he jumped into the water. It wasn’t deep this close to shore, but Leo was a short man and he lost his footing. He went under, emerging almost immediately, spluttering and gasping as a wave struck him in the face.

“Pull when I lift,” he shouted. Reaching underneath the body and with superhuman strength, he lifted her. I pulled at the same time and we managed to hoist her level to the pier. Suddenly, another pair of hands was helping — the man who had been walking his dog. With Leo pushing and the two of us pulling, we got her over the wooden lip and onto the concrete. Immediately, I rolled her onto her back, but it was obvious she had been dead for some time and any attempt at resuscitation would be useless. Her skin was blue-grey and ice cold, her eyes partially closed. In the meantime, Leo was trying to climb out of the water, no easy task as there was no good foothold. I think he might have walked on top of the water by sheer dint of will but I grabbed his hand and hauled him out.

“Oh God,” he kept repeating, “oh my God.” He crouched down and tried to bend the girl’s head back, pulling down on her chin to open her mouth. I caught his arm.

“It’s no use, Leo, she’s gone.”

The body was in fact already in a state of rigor and he couldn’t move the head at all.

“Shall I send for an ambulance, miss?”

For the first time I paid attention to our helper, who had stepped back a few feet and who was watching me with frightened eyes. He was a stocky, fortyish man whose face was whipped scarlet from the wind.

“I know her,” he said before I could answer. “She lives near me. I think her name’s Deidre. She’s deaf.”

“I know who she is,” barked out Leo. “You don’t have to tell me.” Frantically, he began to fish in his pocket. “We’d better phone 911 right away.”

He took out his cellphone but his fingers were trembling too violently for him to dial and I wasn’t sure it would have survived the dunking anyway. I used my own.

“Here, miss. Give him my coat,” said our good Samaritan. “I’ve got a thick sweater on.”

I’d grabbed my windjammer when I’d got the call from Leo but I hadn’t expected we’d be facing winter conditions this early in November. I’d left my gloves behind and only had a light cotton baseball cap on my head. The man looked in better shape than I was, and gratefully, I accepted his offer. He removed his parka. It was shabby but down-filled and felt warm from his body. Leo, the man I’d hitherto experienced as in control and commanding to the point of aggravation, was as unresisting as a child. Quickly, I unbuttoned his sodden coat, erstwhile a good cashmere, and got it off him. Underneath he was wearing only his flannel pajama top. I got that off too and started to rub his chest as vigorously as I could around his heart. I was afraid he was going to go into hypothermic shock at any moment.

He shoved my hands away.

“I’m all right. Give me the coat.”

I held out the parka and he managed to put it on and pulled the hood over his head.

“Why don’t you take my gloves as well,” said our helper, and without a word, knowing the necessity, Leo put them on.

He’d hardly taken his eyes off the body, and suddenly, he pointed. “What’s in her pockets?”

Deidre had been wearing a black leather jacket. I could see both pockets were bulging.

“Stones. They’re stuffed with stones.”

Before I could stop him, Leo started to scrabble at the pockets, unloading them as if it would make any difference now.

He yelled up at me. “She wouldn’t have killed herself. She wouldn’t.”

Suddenly, he stopped and jerked back almost as if he had received a blow.

“Christine, look!”

It hadn’t been obvious at first because the jacket collar was up high on her neck, but Leo, in his desperation, had tugged it down. I could see that a red-striped scarf was around her throat, biting deep into the skin.

“My God,” he whispered. He fell to his knees.

At that moment, we heard the wail of a siren, and an ambulance, lights flashing, came racing down the street that led to the park.

I turned to our bystander, who was standing a few feet away, staring transfixed at the body.

I shifted so I could block his view. “Would you mind going over to the bench, sir?”

He complied without protest. He’d tied his dog to a lamppost and she jumped up at him happily, oblivious to the drama that was unfolding.

The ambulance had turned in at the gate and was headed toward us. I waved my arms for them to stop and they jerked to a halt in front of me. The driver, a young freckle-faced lad, rolled down his window.

“What’s happened?”

“I don’t know yet.” I fished in my inside pocket, glad for my ID. “I’m a police officer, Detective Sergeant Christine Morris, OPP. We have what looks like a homicide.”

The other paramedic was female, blonde hair spilling out from under her wool toque. Both of them were just kids, and they looked apprehensive. Orillia is still small-town Ontario and I doubted if equivocal death was an everyday occurrence.

“I’m going to have you take the man over there to hospital. He’s already going into hypothermic shock.”

And who wouldn’t be if you’d just found the murdered body of your own daughter?

CHAPTER TWO

The female paramedic jumped out of the ambulance. “I’d better check on the woman.”

I flung out my arm. “She doesn’t need your help, believe me. She’s long gone. She has to stay here.”

The girl looked doubtful as if it went against her training, but the guy called out. “Leave it, Cathy. Let’s get this man to the hospital.”

They wheeled out the stretcher. I thought Leo would give me a hard time about leaving but he wasn’t functioning properly and he knew it. He let them help him onto the stretcher and put an oxygen mask over his nose.

“I’ll call you as soon as I can,” I said. He raised his hand in acknowledgement and closed his eyes.

I gave the paramedics his name, got theirs, and they drove away. Strictly speaking, I should just wait for the police to arrive. I was a police officer but not front line anymore. However, there was no way I could act like a civilian because I wasn’t. I went over to the body. Deidre was bareheaded and without gloves, although whether or not she’d had them previously and lost them, we’d have to find out. Her nails were painted a bright cherry red. She was wearing newish Nike running shoes and snug-fitting blue jeans. Unless there was a physical handicap I couldn’t see, she looked trim and fit. The forensic team would have to tell us what had happened and whether or not she had been able to put up a fight. The scarf had been tied very tightly. I sighed. Seeing a murder victim was
never pleasant, and it was especially hard when that victim had so much life snatched from them.

I heard a couple of soft yelps from the direction of the band shell behind me. The man who had helped us gave me a tentative wave when I turned to look at him, as if reminding me he was still there. He’d picked up his dog, a cute little papillon, and was holding it on his lap, stroking it as people do sometimes when they themselves are upset.

I went over to him. “Sorry to keep you waiting, sir, but I’m going to have to ask you to stay a bit longer. I’ll need some information.”

“Oh, I didn’t see nothing. I was just walking Lily, here, when I heard a man shout. I came over to help. That’s all I can tell you.”

The poor guy was acting as if he was under arrest. I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile, although by now my facial muscles were frozen and not working too well.