The Dead Letter Read Free

who had business in the office. Some jewellery had been taken. A ring…and a necklace that was ripped off. It left a mark on her throat. Wallet, cell phone gone.”
    â€œI’m surprised our search didn’t turn up the wallet and cell phone. Most of the local village idiots would figure to dump any link to the crime.”
    â€œProbably tossed ’em in the river.”
    â€œWhat about the jewellery?”
    â€œMother described the ring. She’d bought it for her graduation. MacFarlane bought her the necklace, she said.”
    â€œPut out a description to the pawnshops, jewellers, and second-hand stores…anyone who buys scrap gold or silver. Have somebody check online trading sites, local flea markets et cetera.” Quigley turned back toward his blank wall again.
    â€œSomething else,” said Schaeffer.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œMacFarlane wants to work.”
    â€œNo.” Quigley slowly leaned back in the chair and folded his hands across his stomach. Then he popped forward again. “I thought you said he was a mess.”
    â€œHe was when I interviewed him, but he showed up for his shift this morning. He was sober, looked squared away, positive attitude. I sent him home anyway. He seemed anxious to help. And we could use some help.”
    â€œHe’s too close to the case. Anything from the Coroner?”
    â€œJust a preliminary report. Cause of death: blunt force trauma to left section of frontal bone.”
    â€œWhat else have the boys come up with? Anything?”
    â€œNothing came out of our interviews of co-workers, at least those that could be reached over the holiday. We canvassed a two-block radius of the crime, door-to-door, and turned up a short list of people in the area that evening. Some local kids…a few itinerants camping under the Hillsborough Bridge. We still have to track them down. We’re also looking at cab companies, pharmacies, and pizza joints—any business that might have made deliveries in Stratford.”
    â€œAny complaints?”
    â€œThe boys were happy to get overtime. They’ll work until you send them home. On the other hand, I stopped over at Town Hall earlier. I brought Jill a coffee, and she told me that a few jokers on the Council are grumbling about where the money for all our overtime is going to come from. Delaney and Fitzpatrick are the most vocal…”
    â€œThey want to turn the investigation over to the Mounties.”
    â€œPeale, Jameson, and Carmody are backing us so far. The rest are not committing.”
    â€œThey don’t have the balls to commit to anything. They couldn’t commit to a free lap dance.”
    Schaeffer, nodded, laughed, and headed for the door. He stopped there and turned around.
    â€œSomething else while I remember it. Constable MacKay. He’s leaving. He’s a reservist, and he’s been called up for a military police unit deploying to Afghanistan.”
    â€œWhen’s he leaving?”
    â€œHe’s due in Winnipeg in two weeks, but he wants off the end of this week to get his personal affairs in order.”
    â€œShit!”
    â€œThat’s about it, Chief.” Sergeant Schaeffer stepped out the door of Quigley’s office.
    â€œWait a minute!” Schaeffer stopped short, and Quigley fell into a long, thoughtful pause. Then he said, “Let’s do this. Bring MacFarlane in tomorrow. Put him on the phone, housekeeping stuff, filing, whatever, and see how he performs. If he’s a hundred per cent okay, then he can do some leg work, but under no circumstances does he get access to the case file, evidence, or information on where we’re going with the case. If he wants to contribute, he can do so on the sidelines next to the water boy. Understood?”
    â€œGotcha.”
    Island residents old enough to remember the Korean War would have called it a “glorious day.” The sky was a clear, deep, lively blue. Maple trees,