DANIEL RITTER’S SMILING FACE filled the screen of the smartphone. Larch had loaded the image from Ritter’s official university page. He didn’t find much information about the company mentioned in Forrestal’s diary, except that Connaught Land was based in the city of Dartmouth, the troubled cousin of Halifax, according to the news headlines. There was only one D. Ritter in any phone listing. A Google search quickly identified him as a business professor.
The picture provided the final confirmation. Mr. Ritter was indeed the man he had passed in the hallway. No doubt.
Larch realized how closely he’d missed being caught. He had been told to complete his assignment before the 10 a.m. meeting. Opening the door and fooling the security system had been easy. The target had been standing alone, shoulders hunched in grief over a photograph torn into pieces, and then turned to face him, surprised at Larch’s sudden presence by the door. Larch had had his few minutes with his target, enough to do his duty. Only a few moments separated a successful mission from a spectacular failure. Perhaps it would have been cleaner to have killed both of the men from the elevator at the time. He wouldn’t now be forced to track them down. But any trail of evidence tying his work to his client would be unprofessional, and his reputation could suffer a fatal blow.
But there was still time to clean it up. Provided the hotel manager and Ritter did not survive Saturday night, he would be able to complete a successful mission, preserve his reputation, and retrieve the final half of his payment.
He pocketed the cellphone, slung his backpack over his shoulder, grabbed his suitcase, checked out of the hotel room, descended into the parking garage, jumped into his rental SUV, and joined the anonymous traffic in the gathering gloom outside.
Less than two kilometres away, in the police station just beyond the western end of the Macdonald Bridge, Daniel was sick of looking at mug shots. Hundreds had already flashed by on MacKinnon’s computer screen. None of the faces were smiling. This was understandable, since the photos were taken after arrests. He recognized a former high-school classmate, who had been voted most likely to succeed. Many of the faces betrayed a sense of resignation at being caught. But none of them resembled the man he saw for a second or two in the hallway. He worried that his image of the man was receding, growing fuzzier by the hour. Would he still recognize him in another day?
Detective MacKinnon returned, bringing a laptop computer and a doughnut-sized Tim Hortons bag. He closed the door behind him and handed the bag to Daniel. “Sorry about the delay. We should be done soon. I really appreciate your help.”
Daniel opened the bag and popped two Timbits in his mouth one after the other. “I haven’t found him,” he said between mouthfuls.
“Maybe we have.” MacKinnon sat down in the chair across from Daniel and opened the computer. He began to type. “The security camera covering the fourteenth floor was damaged, but we have footage from the hotel lobby.”
Daniel pushed away from the screen. His aluminum chair screeched a short distance along the floor. The sound echoed in the concrete room. “Let’s have a look.”
MacKinnon swung the computer around so Daniel could see the screen and its frozen image of him and the hotel manager walking quickly to the elevator. “According to forensics, Forrestal is already dead at this point. And here you are, on your way to see him. Running the coverage backward, we find several people in the lobby. I’d like you to look at them and tell me if you recognize anyone.”
He rotated the computer around and typed then spun it back to face Daniel. The screen showed a woman in a black dress walking along the corridor from the el-evator. The pretty one. The one who came out of the elevator as he entered. Daniel shook his head. The next picture, a hotel employee with room service food on a tray, and anonymous guests milling about the lobby. Daniel didn’t recognize any of them either. The pictures continued for a few minutes until he saw himself and the hotel manager walk away from the camera, toward the elevator. Then the video showed a man in a black suit and black turtleneck, holding a silver briefcase, approaching the camera then moving directly underneath, and most likely out the main entrance and onto the street.
“That’s him.” Daniel pointed emphatically.
MacKinnon stood and walked over to stand beside Daniel. He nodded at the jittery picture. “You recognize him?”
“Yes. He’s the one I saw in the hallway just as we approached Forrestal’s room.”
“Why so sure?”
“He was humming that song.” Daniel was pleased.
MacKinnon studied the face and smiled. “So now we know what he looks like.”