Page 26 of The Burnt (The Declan Hunt Mysteries #3)

When Charlie and Jasmine arrived at the Banff Community High School, the students were just getting out.

“What do you remember about the boy that delivered the note?” Charlie asked.

“He was shorter than you,” she said, “and he was wearing a toque. Strange, though, he was wearing a Montreal Canadiens jacket. Everyone from around here supports either the Calgary Flames or the Edmonton Oilers. A boy supporting the Montreal hockey team would not last long here.”

“So, you think he could be from out east?”

“Not necessarily. His coat was old and patched. It might have been all he could get from the thrift shop.”

It didn’t take long for the schoolyard to clear. The kids that remained took turns hurling snowballs and insults at a crudely constructed snowman that they called Mr Wright. Charlie wondered what course he taught.

Just as Charlie was ready to admit that this had been futile, Jasmine tapped his shoulder.

“That’s it. That’s the coat,” she said, indicating the lone boy who was leaving the school. “He must have had a detention.”

“Okay, you stay in the car. I’ll be back.”

Charlie jumped out and started to follow the boy.

After a few blocks, when they were out of view of anyone at the school and on a small side street that led to Banff Avenue, Charlie called out, “Hey kid.”

The boy looked over his shoulder. “Get the fuck away from me, perv,” he called back and kept walking.

“I’m not a perv. I’m a private investigator,” Charlie shouted out.

The boy stopped, turned and faced him. “Private investigators can’t be pervs?”

“You’ve got me there, kid. I just want some information,” Charlie said.

The boy turned and walked away.

“And I’m willing to pay for it,” Charlie added.

“So you are a perv.”

“Like I said, I’m just looking for some information, that’s all. I understand someone had you deliver a letter last week to the big house on Buffalo Street. I’m trying to find out who it was.”

The boy stopped and looked around. He was obviously either trying to figure out if anyone else was listening, or scoping out a place to run.

Declan had told Charlie that whenever he went into the field, he should always carry cash with him, because he never knew when a bribe would be necessary…

and no one would accept credit. Declan had also said it should be at least a few hundred dollars.

That way if he got mugged, the attacker would be less likely to kill him, especially if they felt their effort in robbing him had been adequately rewarded.

“A hundred bucks,” Charlie offered. It would be Griffin’s money, so he didn’t care. He could go higher if he had to.

The boy cocked his head like a dog processing a command. “A hundred bucks and I just have to give you information?”

“Yup.”

The boy chewed on his lip. “Must have been something important in that letter to be worth a hundred bucks.”

“Yup. And something you don’t want to be involved in. You give me the info, I give you the money and we’ll never see each other again, okay? Pretty simple.”

This is going well.

“A hundred and fifty,” the boy said.

What? This kid was a pro.

The boy added, “One-fifty or I start screaming that you touched me.”

“One-fifty it is. And no screaming.”

The boy nodded and walked a few feet closer. “So here’s what happened. This guy, probably in his twenties, came up to me in the arcade and offered me money to deliver a letter. That’s it.”

“That’s it? I pretty well could’a figured that much out on my own.”

“Then pay yourself a hundred and fifty.”

Charlie wasn’t going to give up. “Describe him.”

“Okay. He was about your height, maybe a little shorter. He was white. No accent.”

Charlie pulled out his phone and showed the boy the aged photograph of Milo. “Could this have been him?”

The boy glanced at it and shrugged.

“Have a good look at it,” Charlie said.

The boy stared longer at the image. “Nope. The guy I saw had long dark hair. Kinda looked like a hippie.”

Not much to go on there.

“What else can you tell me? What was he dressed like?”

“A parka. Had a few taped patches. He wore jeans and Kodiak boots. Real stylish.” He laughed. The boy was starting to relax.

Charlie nodded. “Did he ever mention his name?”

“Not that I can remember.”

“Anything else about that afternoon? Did he have a car?”

The boy shook his head. “Not that I saw. But there was one other thing. He did seem to know the place.”

“The place on Buffalo Street?”

“Yeah. He knew just how to sneak around the iron fence. There’s a big cedar bush beside a stone pillar. If you push back the branches, there’s a gap you can get through. And he knew that the place had a lady that answered the door for the owner.”

Charlie nodded. “He did, did he?”

“Yeah,” the boy confirmed.

“Anything else?”

“Nope. Money, please.” The boy held out his hand.

Charlie pulled out his wallet and counted out eight twenties. “Guess you wouldn’t have change?”

“Do I look like a bank teller?”

Charlie handed him the money. The boy shoved the bills into his jeans pocket, turned then walked away trailing a stream of exhaled steam. He was a con artist in the making. Charlie admired him.

* * * *

Charlie drove Jasmine back to The Paddock. When he got there, the gate was open and there was a black BMW 7 Series sedan parked in the drive.

“When is that man going to learn to shut the gate?” Jasmine complained.

Charlie looked over at her.

“You don’t know this town, Mr Watts. You leave that gate open and in no time the property’s full of tourists taking pictures like this is a public garden.”

“Is that Mr Griffin’s car?” Charlie asked.

“No. It’s too modern for him. That’s Mr Semple’s.”

“The guy that works for Mr Griffin?”

“That’s him,” she replied. “Mr Griffin calls him his ‘major-domo’, a title Tom’s very good at using when he’s staying here. Would you like to speak with him?”

“If he has the time,” Charlie answered.

“Why don’t you park on the street?” Jasmine said. “If Mr Griffin returns and there’s not a parking space for his car in the drive, the angels in heaven will have to cover their ears.”

Charlie smiled. “Just gimme a sec, if you don’t mind. Could you leave the gate open for a few more minutes until I get in?”

“I’ll wait for you here.”

Charlie parked down the street. Before he returned to the gate, he followed the fence line to a dense, two-metre-high cedar which grew beside a large stone pillar.

He pushed the shrub away from the brickwork.

There it was—the gap the boy had told him about.

When he returned to the gate, Jasmine had a look of concern on her face.

“You may want to fill in that gap over there,” he said. “Makes it pretty easy for people to break in.”

As they passed through the gates, Jasmine searched through her purse and retrieved her key ring. She pressed a button on a fob and the gates quietly closed behind them.

They walked up to the house and through the front door. Charlie could hear a voice from another room. The person speaking sounded like they were in the midst of a heated discussion. “I don’t care how much it costs. Get it done.”

A man walked into the foyer. He was taller than Charlie, and appeared to be in his mid to late fifties.

His salt-and-pepper hair was well-coiffed and suited his handsome face—one that looked like it had seen a fair bit of physical action over the years.

The man wore a well-tailored suit over his muscular frame.

He could have been a boxer in his earlier years.

When he spotted Charlie, his brow furrowed.

“Who the hell is this?” he asked Jasmine.

Charlie extended his hand. “Charlie Watts. I work for Declan Hunt. You must be Mr Semple.”

Semple took his hand with a controlled firm grip. Charlie suspected that he could crush his hand if he wanted to.

“Hunt? The detective?”

“That’s right.”

Semple nodded. “Ah, yes. I recognise you now. You’re working for Simon, trying to find Milo.”

“I am. I’m just in the initial phase of the investigation.”

Semple crossed his arms. “I’m the one who referred Mr Hunt to Simon. I hope you won’t make me look bad.”

“I always try to avoid that,” Charlie said. “Tell me, Mr Semple—”

“Tom. Why don’t you come into the living room?”

He turned to Jasmine and said in a sharp tone, “By the way, my long camelhair coat was supposed to be back from the cleaners last night. Call and see if it’s ready. And maybe when I’m done with Mr Watts, you can tell me what the two of you have been up to.”

Jasmine disappeared into the kitchen and Tom led Charlie into the other room and sat down on a leather sofa. “So, how can I help you?”

“Well, Tom. You seem to be the kind of guy that has his finger on the pulse of the people here…”

Charlie hoped flattery would help grease the wheels. “I’ve been building up a dossier on Milo and I was hoping that you could help me fill in a few blanks.”

“I’ll do what I can.”

Charlie continued. “I understand that aside from the RCMP, you also led an investigation for Mr Griffin when his son went missing ten years ago.”

“I did. Neither of us got very far.”

“Is it safe to assume that the boy’s room was thoroughly searched after his disappearance?”

“I looked it over,” Tom said.

“But not the police?”

“They did, after me.”

And what did you find that wasn’t there when the police searched? Charlie thought. “It’s my understanding you help Mr Griffin with his business dealings? Is that correct?”

“I do.”

“At the time of Milo’s disappearance, do you remember any business enemies that would have wanted to use Milo as leverage?”

“No.”

“And what exactly is Mr Griffin’s business?” Charlie asked.

“Import-export.” Tom’s steel-blue eyes burnt into Charlie’s.

“Import and export of what?”

“Things that need to be imported and exported. Simon Griffin is a…generalist.”

Charlie smiled and nodded. It was clear that Tom Semple was trained not to answer.

“One other thing, Tom. Mr Griffin mentioned that Milo had a friend.”

Tom’s muscles tensed.

Bingo. What does he know, and who is he trying to protect?

Charlie pressed on. “Mr Griffin believed that Milo had made friends with another boy. Do you know who he was?”

“No.”

“With all of your resources,” Charlie persisted, “you never tracked down the boy Milo was seeing?”

“I don’t think Milo saw this other boy often. I suspect it was the few times that he snuck away from school when I wasn’t watching him. Milo was good at keeping secrets.”

Charlie sensed he was lying. “One last thing. Do you remember the night that Milo disappeared?”

“That was ten years ago.”

“Ten years this week,” Charlie clarified. “Were you here at the house?”

Tom paused. “I was. As I recall, I told the police that after dinner I went to my quarters. I didn’t like to hang around when Simon and Milo were having a fight.”

“Do you remember what they were fighting about?”

“No. It was personal and had nothing to do with me,” he said instantly.

“And Milo left later that evening?”

“Apparently so. Simon banged on my door to tell me his Bentley was gone.”

“Gone? Like stolen? From the gated drive?”

Tom nodded. “We both knew that Milo had taken it.”

“But he was fifteen,” Charlie said. “He only would have had his learner’s permit.”

“He was probably a better driver at fifteen than his father ever was. Look—I trained him how to drive when he was thirteen. He needed to be able to protect himself. There was always the chance that someone might try to kidnap him to get control over Simon. I wanted him to have every advantage in a situation like that.”

Charlie paused. “I guess that makes sense. So Milo borrowed his father’s car. Where did he go?”

“I tracked the car to the airport,” Tom replied. “Simon insisted on putting tracking devices in all of his vehicles as soon as the technology was available. I have no idea where Milo ended up. We checked all outgoing flights and his identification wasn’t associated with any passenger.”

“He just vanished?”

“He did…or someone else made him disappear.”

Tom’s phone rang. “I’m sorry, I have to take this. It’s business.” He got up from the couch and yelled out, “Jasmine, can you open the gate for Mr Watts so he can get back to Calgary?”

As Charlie made his way to the foyer, Tom went into another room and closed the door. Jasmine appeared. She pressed a button on a panel by the front entrance and said, “I’ll close the gate once you’re through.”

Charlie quickly headed back to The Beast and texted Declan.

Be back in a few hours. Found out a few interesting things. Tracked down the boy who delivered the note and one other thing, Simon’s right-hand man has a camelhair coat. Possible connection to Katherine’s mystery man?