The following morning, Stone finished his coffee and watched Roberts as she delicately ate a turnover with her coffee. “If you ate that pastry any slower, it’ll be stale by the time you finished.”
Roberts paused her eating, took a sip of her coffee, and replied, “Not everyone is blessed with the size of your jaws.”
“Thanks for the compliment. However, my point is you don’t normally eat as if you have a toothache.”
“If you must know, I read an article on dieting last night. It suggested to eat slower and take smaller bites. You eat less and it’s easier for your body to digest what you do eat.”
“You don’t need to lose any weight.”
“Thanks, but it’s in a woman’s DNA to always worry about her weight.”
“I suppose so. After you finish your big breakfast, we need to visit that lawyer’s office that handled Carlton’s drunk-driving charge.”
A police officer approached Stone. “The family of Paul Church are here. They would like to ask you a few questions.”
Stone instructed the officer to lead them to an interview room.
Roberts watched the procession go to the interview room. The father, she considered, had similar features to Paul. The son, who looked a few years younger than Paul, had looks similar to the mother. The mother, who had a lighter complexion than her husband, appeared weary with red eyes.
She was glad Stone was doing the update to the family. There was a fine line between assuring the family they were doing the best they could to find who the murderer was, while informing them they didn’t have a suspect yet. She knew from experience there was invariably the question of why did this happen and a description on how wonderful the victim was. In this case, she thought Paul Church did sound like a good human being, making it all the harder to explain the why.
She passed the time reviewing the case, looking for any insight they had overlooked. Time ticked by, and now the procession was repeated in reverse. Roberts noted the mother had another bout of crying, and both the son and the father showed they didn’t restrain from shedding tears.
Stone approached Roberts. “That was not a lot of fun. The family is very close and I didn’t have much to say to comfort them. I passed them the name of Tanya Conner and told them she wanted to attend the funeral. They had known about her through Paul. I guess he told them he had found a wonderful girl. The father said they looked forward to meeting her and would send her details of the funeral when it was set.”
“Are you ready to get back to work? Or do you need a few minutes?”
“Thanks, but I’m fine. Let’s head to the lawyer’s office.”
The law office of Henry Stevenson wasn’t as large as Benson, Kirkman, Ines and Edwards, and wasn’t as high up in the building. Stevenson was a tall, thin man and friendly.
After they were escorted into his office, he quickly asked them how he could be of assistance. He listened to their review of searching for a possible murder suspect for Jacob Carlton.
“Yeah, I heard about the shooting, terrible thing. Not good to have that happening in the city. Was it drug related?”
“We don’t think so. We were curious if Jillian Cramer, or any of her family, may have held strong resentment against Carlton.”
“You would think that they would. Carlton got off pretty easy on the charges against him but Jillian Cramer was quite reserved. She’s a remarkable woman. She took her injuries in stride and never showed any anger. Having said that, she was firm in the insurance negotiations. She listed what she wanted, which included the cost of returning to university so she could have a career that wasn’t limited by being in a wheelchair. She refused to accept anything less and the insurance company blinked a few days before court proceedings were to begin. I can say with some confidence she simply turned the page on what Carlton had done and forgot about him.”
“And the rest of her family?”
“They stayed in the background whenever I was talking to her. She was the strength of her family and they followed her lead.” He spread out his arms. “Jillian and her family just don’t seem to me to be the type seeking revenge. Certainly, murder is the last thing I believe they would be capable of doing.”
Stone stood. “Thanks for your information. If anything, anything at all, comes to mind, please give us a call.”
Stevenson stood and held up a finger. “This may be nothing, but a month after the settlement I did receive a call from a reporter who was doing a feature on drunk drivers and their victims. She was comparing the change in the lives from the victims’ point of view and how the circumstances affected the drunk driver, if at all.”
“Do you recall the name of the reporter?”
“No, but I read the feature she wrote. It was called “Divided Highways: How Drunk Drivers Impact Their Victims.” It was a bit of a sad article in that victims rarely get their lives back to normal, while drunk drivers often carry on as if nothing ever happened. A fine, a small jail sentence, and they return back to their lives. The article was carried by The Journal. They can likely provide you with the reporter’s name.”
As they rode the elevator down, Roberts asked, “Do you think that article has something to do with the case?”
“I don’t know but I want to find out who that reporter is and talk to her. Maybe she has more information on Carlton. Right now, we don’t have any suspects, so anything would be helpful.”
The detectives returned to Stone’s vehicle. He started the Veloster and made his way out of the concrete parking structure.
Roberts commented, “If this newspaper reporter doesn’t pan out with any clues, do we have any other leads to work on? Or does this become your first unsolved murder?”
“No, we will solve this murder. There are more clues out there. We just have to broaden our search to find them. They may not be in the obvious places, that’s all.”
“Your reverse quantum effects thing.”
“What I believe is that the killer has done something else that we can discover, and those clues can be found in our investigation if we search hard enough.”
As Stone drove through the downtown traffic, Roberts made a call to The Edmonton Journal. After navigating through the switchboard, she contacted the managing editor for special features.
“Okay, I spoke to the managing editor and she said we can come by. She recalls the article “Divided Highway,” but the reporter doesn’t work at The Journal anymore.”
“We might as well speak with her. Maybe we’ll learn something.”
Stone parked his car, and they entered the building through the glass doors. Part of the facade of the original year 1921 building could be seen and Stone briefly looked at the brick partition before proceeding to the elevator.
“Nice old brick wall,” Roberts commented as the elevator doors opened.
“Yeah, it is. I was thinking the wall is like people. False front hiding what’s underneath.”
“I hope that inspiring thought helps us with solving our case.” She pushed the button for the fourth floor.
They weaved their way past desks and cubicles, arriving at the office of Karen Gilmore. The blonde woman was tall and had a no-nonsense look to her. She greeted them, stepping around her desk to shake their hands. Gilmore took off her glasses as she sat back behind her desk.
“How can I help you exactly, Detectives?”
“We’re investigating the death of Jacob Carlton. I believe he was mentioned in one of your articles, ‘Divided Highway’.” Stone added, “When you spoke to my colleague on the phone, you said he, the reporter, was no longer working at The Journal.”
“Actually, it is a she. Her name is Janet Gourneau. I don’t have a phone number or address for her but I do have an email address. She went overseas to work and discover the world.” Gilmore passed over a large yellow envelope with Gourneau’s email address written neatly on it. “I reprinted the article for you. You can get a digital copy as well but it would have the same information. ‘Divided Highway’ was a series of articles that appeared over four editions.”
Roberts asked, “What did you think of the article? Was it accurate or was it over-the-top to generate interest?”
“It was well written and very factual. I know when Janet was writing it, she got quite emotional over it. She identified with the victims. Maybe something happened to her personally in the past.”
“Would you happen to have her notes on it? Perhaps there’s more information there.”
“No, we only have the final article.”
Roberts and Stone thanked her and returned to the car.
“I think I’m going to get a cup of java.”
“Of course. It’s been almost an hour since your last refuel.” She took the paper out of the envelope and began to skim through the writing.
Stone drove toward Jasper Avenue. “I think there’s a coffee shop on 104th Street.”
“Oh shit!”
“What’s wrong?”
“There’s a connection between two of the murders. I can’t believe you’re right.”
“Everything ...”
“Shut up.” She pointed a finger at him. “No one likes an I-told-you-so.”
“So Carlton and Church may have the same murderer?”
“No, Jacob Carlton and Travis Moore are the ones connected.”
“We need to find this Janet Gourneau.”
Roberts paused from staring at her computer monitor. “Not much on Janet Gourneau. Her old driver’s licence listed her previous address. Other than that, there aren’t any records of her. I put in a request for international records but that could take a while. There are a lot of Janet Gourneaus in this world. I sent her an email but it bounced.”
“Yes, but our Janet did do journalism. Maybe she has some articles or writing we can find online.”
“I suppose you want me to do the searching.”
“You’re faster at it than me.”
“Only because you’re always holding a cup of coffee.”
By the time Stone had finished his second cup of coffee, Roberts had managed to find a possible lead. The Nelson Times, a newspaper in New Zealand, listed several feature articles by a J. Gourneau.
“That could be our girl,” Roberts announced.
“Maybe we can give them a call and see if it is her and if they can tell us how to contact her.”
“We’ll have to wait a bit to call. They’re eighteen hours ahead of us.”
“Then let’s go for lunch.”
“Sure. That sounds good. Where?”
“A bit of a gem I found.”
Normand’s Bistro was located in the Citadel Theatre, serving lunch besides dinner for the theatre patrons.
“This is rather nice.” Roberts ordered the kale salad and she looked around the open decor of the restaurant.
“It is a nice place to get away from the fast lunch crowd.”
“How’s it going with Cindy?”
Stone acted surprised by her question. “Hmm, well, a few days ago I was wondering where I stood with her. I called her last night, and she was as sweet as peaches and cream. Women are hard to figure out.”
“Men aren’t supposed to figure us out. We like guys on the defensive.”
“Women are wicked but men like them anyway.”
“Don’t you mean love them anyway?”
“No, that would imply commitment. Let’s not go there.” He grinned.
“Jerk.” She smiled back at him.
The waitress brought her the salad and his elk burger.
Stone looked at her salad. “Really, take a look at this burger. Are you sure you made the right menu choice?”
“Ask me again when you get your first heart attack.”
“Aren’t you the tidings of joy.” He took a bite of his burger. “If this kills me, then at least I’ll be in heaven.”
They returned to their desks. Roberts managed to push the right series of numbers and connected with the switchboard of The Nelson Times. She spoke first with the managing editor of the New Zealand newspaper, who forwarded her call to the editor of special assignments, Andrew Ford. Roberts put her phone on speaker mode, after Roberts had identified themselves as being with a Canadian police department. The managing editor of the New Zealand newspaper didn’t ask for any special confirmation of their status as he listened to their request. She assumed he had a call display showing that the call was originating from the Edmonton City Police Department.
“We’re looking for Janet Gourneau. We understand she works for your paper.”
“Yes, Janet still does work for us on a freelance basis. She is away on vacation at the present moment, so I’m not sure how to get in immediate touch with her.” Andrew Ford spoke with what Stone and Roberts perceived as an accent.
“We need to get in with contact her. Do you have a phone number or even her email address?”
“I do have an email address for her. However, her mobile number might not be much of use. She mentioned she was going to Canada and wasn’t sure if taking her phone with her would be worthwhile. I will give you her number but I can’t promise you she has it with her.”
Roberts copied down the information. “One last thing, could you send us a photo of her?”
“I can. Is she in any sort of trouble?”
Roberts looked at Stone, who shook his head. “No, it’s just that she may have some additional information on an article she wrote.”
“Very well. If she contacts me, I’ll let her know that you wish to speak with her.”
Roberts thanked him and ended the call. “Now, that’s interesting. Our reporter is back in Canada.”
“Indeed, it is interesting. I’m going to send in a request to the Canadian Border Security Agency to see when she landed in Canada and where.”
“Okay, while you do that, I’ll try calling Ms. Gourneau.” Roberts tried the number, and after several rings, went to voice mail. She left a message, requesting a return call. She then sent an email, asking her to contact them regarding a newspaper article.
Stone looked up from his desk. “No luck?”
“No, but I left her a message. I guess we wait to see if she responds.”
“In the meantime, maybe we can work our Fringe murder. We still need to interview Brenda Thompson.”
“True. Why don’t you call her for an appointment while I get us a cup of coffee?” Roberts stood.
“Sure, make me do all the hard work.”
Brenda Thompson informed Stone she would be home at five p.m. and gave him her address.
Stone drove to the north Edmonton location, a four-story condominium. He parked in front of the address and peered at the building. “Not a bad-looking building. Let’s see what the inside looks like.”
Brenda Thompson showed them in, offering them coffee. Stone, as usual, readily accepted. Roberts declined and looked around the well-lit living room. The walls held a few paintings, including a large Disney print of Sleeping Beauty.
Thompson sat in a pattern armchair across from Stone and Roberts on a couch. “How can I help you?”
Roberts asked, “What do you do for a living?”
“I’m a pharmacist.”
“You’re also an actor in the play where Paul Church died.”
“Yes, I’m taking some evening courses at Grant McEwan. Just for fun. I saw a poster asking for auditions to perform in a Fringe play. The instructor, Peter McNab, was directing a play he wrote, so I signed up.”
“But you didn’t take his acting class?”
“No, but I understand it was a small class.” She paused and lowered her voice slightly. “Even so, I heard that not many in the class wanted to be part of the play.”
“Do you know why?
“Well, this is only second-hand information I heard, but Peter was not a well like instructor. He could be, shall we say, a bit too focused on his supposedly past accomplishments. It would make for some rather tiresome lectures.”
“Was Tyler Burgess, besides yourself, the only one not in the class that was in the play?”
“Yes, he was going to help on the play anyway. Tyler is a handyman and built the wall we used on the set to separate the stage. He decided to try acting as well.”
“Is this your first acting experience?”
“Just a bit in high school and I was a voice in a radio play once. That was a while back.”
“Fair enough. Are you from Edmonton originally?”
“No, I moved here a few years ago. I was an army brat, so my parents moved around a lot, and we lived in Winnipeg for several years. I went to the University of Manitoba and took pharmacy.”
Stone nodded. “Okay, did you notice anything unusual during the play? Especially the final performance.”
She shook her head. “Not during the play, necessarily. But Peter sat with Dana Sharpe and Marc Crestman. Dana initially was going to be in the play but dropped out. Marc Crestman did acting last year at the Fringe. We were all wondering why Peter had invited them to watch the play. It was as if he expected he would need replacement actors.”
Roberts nodded, recalling the same information mentioned before. “Anything unusual happened in the classroom? Anyone upset with Paul Church?”
“There was some tension. Peter was quite demanding as a director. Not everyone handled his criticism well. He tore a strip off poor Paul for not showing enough emotion. Then, there was Tanya, who just couldn’t keep her hands off Paul.” Thompson lowered her voice to a gossip whisper. “She didn’t make it any secret they were sleeping together.” Thompson licked her lips. “There was also something going on between Paul and Jessica. She seemed to be angry with him. I don’t know the reason but she definitely didn’t like him.”
Stone asked, “I notice you have a picture of Sleeping Beauty.”
Thompson smiled, staring at the print. “Yes, I love just about everything Disney. I have about thirty Disney character coffee mugs, and all kinds of knickknacks. The picture is my one big purchase.”
“Were you friends with any of the other actors?”
“Friends? No, I can’t say that I spent time with any of the others, except in the play. I did see some of them at the campus occasionally but merely said hello to be friendly. I just took my courses and went home after that. I mean they seemed nice, but I was a bit older than they were. I think they liked going to the bar, getting drunk, and being silly. That wasn’t for me. A woman these days shouldn’t be drinking too much in bars. Men will take advantage of them.”
“Is there anything you noticed that may help us find Paul’s killer?”
“That Mitch Donnelly. Now, he had a bad temper and he really didn’t like Paul. Maybe he did something. I don’t know, I’m just saying there was a conflict.”
Stone thanked her for her information and left.
“What do you think of her as a suspect?” Stone asked.
“Not the type I would suspect normally. Like, she collects Disney stuff, including that print. It seems she has lived alone for a long time, judging by her furniture.”
Stone drove his car back the way they came. “She struck me as a bit off. I think she likes drama, and not in the acting sense. She seemed eager to tell us all of the goings on between the actors, including that Mitch didn’t like Paul. Ms. Thompson strikes me as a person who enjoys watching others having conflicts but doesn’t like to do much herself. I don’t see her as a killer.”
“She is a pharmacist and thus has access to drugs. She would know about poisons.”
“True, there’s that. But that’s a big leap to actually adding the poison to Church’s wineglass or however he consumed the poison.”
“So, no suspects.”
“Hey, there’s a bar up ahead. Want to go for a drink?”
“Sure.” She looked at the sign above the bar in the strip mall. The Crown and Anchor looked like it had been around a few years.
It was easy to find a parking spot, and Roberts and Stone opened the heavy wood door. Inside, the interior tried to establish an English-style pub interior. Their server was quick to arrive at their table, giving them a smile and asking if they were interested in the wing special. Stone readily agreed to the wings and ordered a pint of beer, along with Roberts.
“Something on your mind?” Roberts asked.
“This bar, by coincidence, is about halfway between where Brenda Thompson and Tyler Burgess live. Just a thought.”
“Brenda said she doesn’t like bars.”
“She said a lot of things. What she actually said was more that she didn’t like to go to bars with her classmates.”
The wings arrived and Stone was quick to try one. “These are pretty good.”
Roberts took one and nibbled at it. “They are.”
“Just so you know, if you insist on slowly eating these wings, you may not get many.” He reached for a third wing.
She sighed. “Damn diet.” She reached for another wing. “I’ll at least drink my beer slowly.”