Okay then, I had a goal. Now, I just had to formulate a plan to accomplish that goal. Stick with what you know, that was always a good start. I had used blackmail successfully last summer to squeeze my share of our marital assets out of the Weasel. Perfect. Blackmail was on the table.

I smiled at Thea and Rae. “Okay, girlfriends, let’s party down. Rae, fetch your nail polish collection. We’re going to paint our toes and giggle until it hurts.”

CHAPTER

thirty-seven

Neil wolfed down a cheeseburger at the Mason Jar, then returned to his office to sift through the photos and reports from the second Quantz murder investigation. A message from Ed reiterated that he couldn’t narrow the time of death further. Midnight to 2:00 a.m. this morning. The body had been transferred to London for autopsy.

After leaving the crime scene, Tony had gone to St. Paul’s manse to assist the officers already there. They were searching through the dead man’s effects. Neil had checked in with them several times, but nothing of importance had been found.

He looked at the old schoolroom clock hanging on the wall beside the door. Half an hour until the start of the board meeting. It wasn’t unusual for a mayor to call a meeting with the police chief to update the board during a serious investigation. The difficult part would be preventing the suspicion and dislike he felt for Mike Bains from showing. Tony would make a good buffer, if he showed up.

He called Tony’s cell.

His friend answered on the first ring with a gruff “What’s up?” After listening, he said, “Are you afraid I’m not going to make it in time to hold your hand at the meeting?”

“Something like that. We have twenty minutes until showtime. Get your lazy ass over here.”

“If you insist. I wouldn’t pass up a chance to see my sweetie being cute and official.… And I don’t mean you.”

“Quit fucking around, Tony. What’s your ETA?”

“How about now?” He walked through the door and threw his coat at the rack. He stuffed his phone into his pocket and tried to smooth down his unruly black hair. “I have something special for my comrade-in-arms. We found it in Mr. Quantz’s lair, less than an hour ago. I wanted to surprise you.”

Neil’s exhaustion lifted. “Better make it quick. Ten minutes and counting.”

“I knew I’d see this lady again.” Tony slapped a large baggie on the desk. Inside was Quantz’s drawing of the squirrel-girl with the huge hooters. What was her name? Amandaline? Almandine? He turned it over.

A sentence had been written and scratched out. A second sentence had a line drawn through it, but it was still legible: “You have to pay for what you did to Faith and Sophie.”

Neil looked up and saw the excitement in Tony’s face. “Quantz knew who killed his wife and Faith Davidson. Sophie must have told him who she was meeting at the church. He tried to blackmail the perp, and got a bullet for his efforts.”

Tony nodded. “The fucker burned some paper in his wastebasket, most likely his practice pages, but we found this one under his ratty chair. Wonder what made him try it?”

“After it hit home that he had to leave the manse with no resources and no means of supporting himself, he must have resorted to blackmail.”

Tony flipped the baggie over to stare at Almandine. “We didn’t find a cellphone on his body or in his house. I’m guessing the perp either took it or threw it into the swamp with the gun. Just his bad luck the gun fell short. It’ll take time to get Quantz’s phone and email records, but considering this practice blackmail note, he either mailed his demand or dropped it off.”

“In his desperate state, I can’t see him waiting four, five days for the Royal Snail to deliver it. I’m betting he delivered it personally, left it in a mailbox maybe.” Neil swept the bagged blackmail note into his desk drawer and locked it.

He said to Tony, “I’ve got some news for you, too. Thea lifted a partial thumbprint from the barrel of the Mauser. The rest was wiped clean. Might be the break we need.”

“Best news I’ve heard since I landed in Crazytown. Now, all you need is the thumb to match.”

“Let’s go. The meeting was supposed to start five minutes ago.”

Tony rose slowly and made no attempt to straighten his rumpled uniform. “So, we’re fashionably late.” He reached for his coat. “Where’s the town hall in this village of the damned?”

“Follow me. The Municipal Chambers are up one flight and along a dingy hall.”

Their boots clattered up the wooden staircase, and the sound echoed through the empty corridors. They passed darkened rooms and paused before a closed door. A strip of light shone on the linoleum floor at their feet.

“Shit. What happened? Did your real town hall burn down? This is a dump.” Tony put his hand on Neil’s arm to delay him. “Are you going to mention the latest victim’s blackmail scheme?”

“Nope. Bains is still a suspect. We’re not telling him anything we wouldn’t say to a newspaper reporter.”

The Bainses, Glory Yates, and Bert Thiessen had taken seats facing the door. Glory had left an empty chair between herself and the other three. Neil and Tony sat down side by side with the old wooden conference table separating them from the board members.

Andrea Bains looked at her watch. Tony smiled at her politely while Neil ignored her gesture.

The mayor said, “I call this meeting to order. Let’s get down to business so we can all get out of here and go home. It is Saturday.” Bains tapped his manicured fingers on a thin folder lying on the table in front of him.

Tony leaned back slightly and crossed his arms. Neil waited quietly and set his expression to neutral. His eyes scanned three of the faces across the table, dismissing Bert Thiesson from the upcoming discussion. This was a situation that could implode or fizzle. The previous mayor had hired Neil, or he wouldn’t be sitting here now. Even before he met Cornwall, he had heard rumours of how ruthless Mike Bains could be.

The board could only fire him now if they had cause. Neil remembered Earl Archman telling him that Bains was a sociopath. The restrained rage in the man’s eyes reinforced in Neil’s mind that he must tread very carefully here tonight.

“We’ve had two murders in this town in the space of a week. Chief Redfern, I have yet to receive a report from you regarding progress on the investigations. It shouldn’t be necessary for me to call a special meeting to learn the facts that you and our OPP investigator have uncovered, but in the absence of your courtesy — and responsibility — in this matter, here we are.”

“Is there any coffee?” Bert opened the Timmy’s bag in front of him and pulled out a bagel. He leaned forward and looked across the Bainses at Glory. “How about it, dearie? Where’s the coffee?”

Glory put her fingers to her temples as though she had a headache. “There’s no coffee, Bert. Please, just pay attention to the discussion.”

Neil had been concerned about having Glory and Tony in the same room during a professional discussion. So far, they had avoided eye contact with each other and kept their hormonal surges under control. He didn’t think the Bainses were aware of the sizzling relationship between their fellow board member and the OPP investigator, and he didn’t want them to figure it out tonight.

“With all due respect, Mr. Mayor, if I spent time at my computer, typing up preliminary reports for you, who would be assisting our OPP liaison investigator with our murder inquiries? As you know, a town this size should have two investigators on the payroll. We have none.”

Andrea Bains refused to be distracted. She fingered the plain gold chain around her neck. “Perhaps, Chief Redfern, your personal relationships are interfering with your duties.”