The K Handshape (18 page)

“How did they discover it? What sort of symptoms was she having?” asked David.

“I’ve no idea. That’s all she said. Chris, do you know anything more?”

“Not really. It’s called atrial fibrillation and definitely has to be monitored but we’ll know more when they’ve done the CT scan, which should be today.”

“I’ll send her some flowers from the team,” said Janice.

Ah Momma Janice, we’re going to miss you.

“Sounds good. Righto, folks, let’s get going.” Katherine tapped her pen on the table to get attention. “I’ve also heard from Ed Chaffey. He says the casino has agreed that we can have a look at the surveillance tapes this morning. He’ll meet us there himself at ten-thirty.” She glanced over at Leo. “It would make the most sense if you looked at them, Leo. You might recognize somebody. I thought Chris could go with you, if that’s all right?”

He actually managed a smile. “I think we’re joined at the hip now and if she’s willing to be my minder, it’s all right with me.”

I never thought I’d be spending so much time with Leo Forgach, but so be it. Our shared experience of finding his daughter’s body had created a bond between us that certainly hadn’t been there before.

“So everybody has had a chance to look at the DVD and listen to the audio translation? Good. Janice has made copies of all the letters and emails that Deidre received. Christine has some first impressions but we can all throw in our two cents’ worth.” Janice started to hand around the photocopies. “We’ll come back to those in a minute. Ray, what have you got?”

“I got in touch with Gallaudet University yesterday. They were very co-operative and gave me an address for Zachary Taylor in a small town in B.C. I contacted the police there. Just one guy and he was able to check it out right away.” He grinned. “I think he was glad of the activity. Quiet town, I gather. He said it was the address of a rooming house. He went over himself and talked to the landlady but she’d never heard of Taylor. One of the tenants said she thought he might have been there before her and had moved to the States. Dead end so far but we’ll see if there’s a paper trail from the university. He must have paid his fees with something. That will take a while to trace, however. As for the DVD itself, I’ve given it to Fingerprints, but they weren’t that optimistic about pulling up anything clear. A lot of people have been handling it. Same with the letters.”

Katherine said to me, “Any further thoughts, Chris? Is this a serious threat?”

“I have no idea. Deidre’s friends were positive he was joking. He liked to play tough guy imitations. I guess the ‘kill’ sign is the deaf person’s equivalent of doing a Bogart lisp. That said, I’d bet he’s the one who impregnated Deidre for the second time, and I’m guessing she arranged a meeting to tell him just that.”

“He mentions a post office box, so I presume she sent him a snail mail letter,” said Jamie.

“Probably, but we’ve got to get her computer. She seems to have kept the emails that were sent to her after her public announcement but I’d like to know who she was writing to.”

“I’ll get a subpoena to seize,” Katherine said, making a note on her pad. “Finding Zachary Taylor is top priority. I’ve passed along
a description of him and possibly the camper van to Ed. He’s going to put a notice in the papers and there should be some TV coverage today, so we might get some results in soon. He’s alerted all OPP stations in the vicinity to be on the lookout and we’ve also sent a description to the border folks.”

“What’s happening with the casino search?” I asked.

Katherine rested her head in her hands for a moment. “That is one helluva job. There are god knows how many surveillance tapes. They’re everywhere, including the toilets — what fun that’s going to be. Thank goodness for the receipts on bets placed. At least we can get an accurate read on the time she stopped playing. Ed’s got his guys checking with the buses and taxi companies to see if she left in one of those. However, talking to the visitors may take weeks even if we can find all of them. She may have gotten a lift with somebody.”

“Yeah,” said Jamie. “Who the hell’s going to notice one woman in that crowd? Besides, the only thing on anybody’s mind is whether they’re going to win tonight.”

Katherine raised her eyebrows. “Are you speaking from personal experience, Jamie?”

To my surprise and probably hers, he turned a deep red, the flush meeting his auburn hair.

“I’ve been up there a few times.”

Jamie was a quiet guy, conscientious and punctilious. Not the personality you’d necessarily associate with gambling, but it wasn’t illegal, very legal in fact with profits benefiting the government and local Native groups. I wondered why he seemed so embarrassed to admit he frequented the casino. Personally I had tried it once early on and hated it. I’d expected to see people having a good time, laughing and yukking it up, but the opposite was true. To my mind, the pounding music drowned out moans of despair and rage, the neon lights hid haggard faces streaked with tears. Come on. Casinos do big business by appearing to be jolly friendly giants handing out lots of money with a ho! ho! ho! whereas they’re actually raking it in and the customers are enticed to lose their shirts, and everything else on their person. A pawn shop on the premises would do a roaring business.

Enough of my little rant.

Katherine moved on briskly. “Jamie has a point but we’ve got to pursue it. Thank the Lord it’s Ed’s job to organize that. We’ll just sit here on our fannies and analyze the results. Much easier. There are posters with Deidre’s picture up now in the entrance to the casino. They’ve agreed to have a second uniformed officer stationed in the lobby in case somebody’s memory is jogged and wants to unload right away. The registered coach trips are being followed up on but that is a huge job.”

“Do you think Zachary Taylor wrote the hate letters?” Ray asked looking at me.

“I’d say no, given his preferred mode of communication seems to have been ASL and the DVD, and the tone of his monologue is completely different.”

Katherine started to gather together her papers. “That’s probably as much as we’ve got for now. Jamie, I believe you’ve asked ViCLAS to come up with any stats on similar cases. We’ll see if they have anything for us. Thanks everybody. Janice will let you know about the next meeting.”

Leo shoved back his chair. “Let’s get to it then. Chris, you all right to drive?”

“Sure.”

His restless agitation was contagious and I got moving promptly. Following him out of the door was almost a déjà-vu experience. It seemed eons ago that we’d been in this room.

Outside it was still pelting down. What was this, forty days and forty nights? We scurried to the car. At least he had his own umbrella this time.

I waited until we turned off Memorial Drive and onto Highway 12. He hadn’t said anything, just sat staring morosely out the rain-streaked window.

“Leo, I think David deserves an apology. He was only trying to help.”

He shot a look at me and I could see a protest about to jump out of his mouth. Then he swallowed.

“I know. I was an almighty jerk… What shall I do to make amends?”

“Well you could always send him a case of spring water.”

He actually laughed. “Good idea.

We drove on.

“Loretta arrived late last night. She wanted to go directly to Deidre’s house and see Joy. She’s not had a lot to do with her, especially lately, but more than I have. I’m glad we did. It was almost midnight and Nora was plonked in front of the TV. Joy wasn’t in bed — she was on the couch asleep beside her. I thought Nora was stoned. Loretta read it right away and said she’d stay in the house rather than at my place so she could keep an eye on things. Nora didn’t like that, it might curtail her smoking up, but I felt much better. Loretta knows some basic signs — are you hungry, what would you like, that sort of thing — but it’s more than I have.

“Jessica and Hannah are going back there today and Loretta thinks they should ask Joy some questions. You know, about seeing any men come to the house. Nobody is ready to tell her that her mother is dead but she keeps asking where she is. I don’t know who’s going to do that. The friends, I suppose.”

We were driving through the rural area that separated the city proper from the casino. The fields were grey and sodden, the trees almost stripped of their leaves already. Here and there, dispirited cows cropped at the grass.

“I think that’s a good idea to ask her about her mom’s friends. I never thought about it. I trust they’ll do it tactfully.”

A sign directed us to turn off the road and Casino Rama, locus of despair and greed and exploitation, loomed in front of us.

It was just past ten but the parking lot was already jammed. At least a half a dozen coaches were pulled up in the bus section and simultaneously disgorging their passengers. I was struck by how many of them were elderly, probably on a field trip from their retirement homes. The majority were women, and one coach let off passengers who were all Asian. We hurried along with the flow of people, all chattering excitedly as they pursued the impossible dream. Sudden wealth literally pouring out of the slots, although in fact, at this casino, I had discovered, the slot machines no longer poured out money, you got vouchers instead.

Ed Chaffey was standing beside a tall uniformed officer near one of the doors. I saw the posters on the wall, but as far as I could
tell, absolutely none of the hundreds of people rushing through the doors were paying attention to it. Jamie was right about that. Ed waved and came over at once.

“My condolences, Leo. I’m so sorry.”

Leo barely nodded but they shook hands.

“The manager is waiting for us. His name is Todd Torvill. We can go up the back stairs.”

He led the way across the lobby, forcing his way against the stream with me and Leo trotting in his wake. Once we closed the fire door behind us, there was a blessed quiet from the many excited voices.

“I asked him to take out the tapes that were running from eight o’clock to eleven. We’ll start there at least and expand if we have to.”

What could I say? Police work involves utter tedium sometimes, but then somebody’s got to do the dishes.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The security office room was at the top of the stairs. A uniformed security man was posted at the door and we all had to show our IDs, which he examined carefully. He was young, twentyish, with a shaved head, swelling biceps, and a “don’t mess with me” air that was impressive. He’d calm rowdies in minutes in my opinion even if it meant cracking heads, which I guessed he’d do with impunity.

“Thank you, sir, thank you, ma’am.”

He gave some kind of secret knock on the door, which was opened immediately, and another shaven-headed security guard stood on the threshold.

“They’re clear. They’re here to see Mr. Torvill.”

He was being super polite, as was the other-side-of-the-door guy, but I could tell how it irked Ed. As far as he was concerned he had authority over the entire place, including security, but they were acting like a city state. Another man, much slighter of build, middle-aged, appeared at the door. He had a neatly trimmed moustache, a neat grey business suit, and a look of anxiety that seemed perpetual. He made me think of the White Rabbit in
Alice in Wonderland
.

Ed introduced himself and us and Torvill stepped back so we could enter the room. It was large and I don’t think I have ever seen so many monitors in my life. Think of one of those television stores that have the TV sets along the wall, all playing at the same time. Multiply by one hundred. A dozen people on roller chairs
were seated at various places in front of the different banks. They were reminiscent of air traffic controllers. Nobody was talking, all focused on their screens. At the far end of the room, two uniformed security men, knees locked, stood watching us incuriously.

A tall, tan-skinned Native man with a phone device in his ear was walking up and down behind the scanners.

“That’s our floor manager, Ben Snake,” said Torvill. “He’s got a good memory for faces. I’ve asked him to meet with us.”

He beckoned and the man headed toward us. Suddenly his eyes caught something on one of the monitors and he swivelled around, leaning forward to study it more closely.

“Zoom in,” he said, and the controller enlarged the image with a tap on the keyboard. An older Asian man sitting at one of the slot machines came into view.

“He’s not supposed to be here. He’s a self-excluder,” said Snake. He tapped out a code on the receiver pack at his waist. “Jerry! Aisle 3, slot 45. Male Asian, baseball cap. His name’s Lee. Remove him. This is the second time this week. Talk to him.”

“It happens all the time,” said Torvill softly, with an apologetic shrug. “People get addicted, lose their shirts, and voluntarily sign a request to the casino to bar them from playing. We do it, but in spite of that, there’s always somebody who tries to sneak in.”

Even as we watched the monitor, two large security men were at Mr. Lee’s elbows. He shrugged, put down his cards, and accompanied them out. No fight.

Snake handed his earpiece and receiver to one of the men on the roller seats, who got to his feet. Vigilance couldn’t take a break.

Ed checked his watch. “Sorry, Leo, I’m going to have to go. You’ve got my cell number. Either you or Christine can call me as soon as you have anything.”

He left and the guard at the door let him out promptly. Muscles and bald head aside, he was still a glorified concierge.

“Let’s go into my office,” said Torvill, shepherding us like a little flock. The three of us followed him through a side door, padded to keep out the din of the casino, into a small room that was disappointingly plain for the head office at a multi-million-dollar-earning casino. No thick burgundy carpet, no mahogany desk or leather chairs here. The furniture, what there was of it, was bland
and dull. It reminded me of an airport waiting area but maybe I was still influenced by the control tower feeling of the other room. Torvill performed the introductions and Ben looked for what seemed an unusually long time into my face, I presumed committing my features to memory. I didn’t notice him doing that with Leo but maybe I was staring back at him. I’m a sucker for ponytails on men and he was sporting a long one, pulled tightly back from his face. He was probably in his mid to late forties, strikingly handsome with chocolate brown eyes and jet black hair. His face was lean and there was a gravity to him that I liked.