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The detectives headed over to Cadboro Bay, leaving Gunner behind to delve further. The traffic was heavy with shoppers out in full force. They weaved their way past the malls to Henderson Road. Scottie pulled to the curb and parked the vehicle. No children were playing on the grass. Death changed everything. Gibson knocked on the door. They stood on the porch without talking, waiting for someone to answer. Before he could tap anew, the door swung open. Ellen clutched her bathrobe with one hand and tugged at her hair with the other. She frowned and turned away. They followed her inside. She slogged down the hallway. There was still no aroma of cinnamon. The kitchen was lifeless. A stink of stale coffee and sour food lingered. She crumpled into the chair that she had abandoned moments before. A stained place mat, a half-drunk beverage and a plate with dried-out bread crust languished on the table in front of her.
“May I?” Gibson asked as he approached a bench that had been thrust into the periphery of the room. A slow nod gave him consent. He dragged it over and sat down. Scottie stayed at the entrance with notepad and pen by her side. Something—grief—had left the once pristine kitchen to its own devices: filthy dishes on the countertop, a towel on the floor, dust bunnies in the corners and spilled food on the stove top. But no trace of Lily. No fruity cereal or milk cups. It was best not to inquire about the kids.
“We discovered application forms in Robbie’s locker,” he said. “Was he going back to school?”
A twinge of a smile flickered across Ellen’s mouth. She gazed up from her hands resting in her lap. “He wanted a business diploma. To get a better position.” She shifted her feet. Restlessness had made her body twitch.
“When was this?”
“Last November when he returned from a conference.” Her eyes filled but she bit her lip to stop the pain.
“He didn’t go through with it. What changed his mind?”
“I’m not sure. But he mentioned it again lately,” Ellen said. “He was ready to do it now.”
“Did Robbie lend money to anybody?” Gibson changed tacks.
“Heavens, no,” Ellen said. “We could hardly keep our heads above water.”
“What about the presents he bought?”
“That’s exactly my point. He was overspending, not handing the stuff out. There was just the small sum he gave to Jeff to help him out. That’s all.” Ellen exhaled heavily.
Gibson stood up. There was nothing else to ask. The accounts were inconclusive evidence of any wrong doing. Another dead end. They needed more. He looked into the living room as they were leaving, but Lily wasn’t there.
The ride into town was a battle with heavy traffic and impatient drivers. Scottie parked on the curb across the street from the VIIMCU building. The glass door had a sheen of frost on the outside. Cold air meeting hot. Gibson swung open the door to an empty foyer. The receptionist wasn’t around again. He felt dragged out today, and the stairs looked insurmountable so they took the elevator to the second floor. In his office, they picked up where they had started that day. He sat at his desk with his feet splayed out in front of him. Scottie dropped into the chair she had left behind that morning—was it only this morning?—and stretched out. With their positions resumed, they slipped back into their musing until the phone rang.
“Gibson.”
He bolted upright. The pencil he had been drumming on his thigh was now furiously flying across a scrap of paper. His scribble was barely decipherable. Sensing a renewed excitement, Scottie bent over to have a snoop. All she saw were squiggly lines.
He hung up and brandished the scrawled note in front of her nose.
“What’s that?”
“Proof.” Gibson rose his eyebrows. “Raymond found a jacket in Jason’s locker with blood on the lining.”
“What?”
Gibson repeated what Jocko had just told him.
“The CSI didn’t find anything in Jason’s office that was of value to us. But he was ticked off that he couldn’t get into the locker. He kept on searching and found the key taped in place under a lower drawer of the desk. He brought the jacket to Jocko right away.”
“And?”
“This jacket has Jason’s initials on the collar and Robbie’s blood on the lining.”
“Huh?” Scottie wore a puzzled look, not getting the implications. “How does that help? Don’t we already have a bloodied jacket?”
“This is a different one.” Gibson smiled. “Jocko did an analysis of the dried spots. He said the blood transferred from the jacket you found in the shop—that was Robbie’s jacket—to the lining in Jason’s jacket.”
“What? Could you go slower?” Scottie scratched her throbbing temple.
“Jason wore Robbie’s jacket when he killed him.” Gibson let Scottie understand this first part and continued. “Blood had splattered on the front so Jason had to stash it somewhere. He ran up the stairs to his office and stuffed the jacket into his locker.”
“Underneath his own jacket,” Scottie said.
“Right. Then he ran down the back stairs to the parking lot. He came up behind the guys standing at the door and pretended he had just gotten to work.”
“Okay, I get that. So now Jason has to get rid of the jacket from his locker.”
“That’s right. When he tried to ditch Robbie’s jacket, he was interrupted. The best he could do was leave it on a hook in the shop. Go back for it later.”
“AJ.” Finally, Scottie got it.
“I guess Jason though
t AJ saw him put the jacket there. Who knows what Jason was thinking? Was he going to kill AJ as well?” Gibson shrugged.
“That’s crazy.”
“But no matter, you found the jacket before he could get it back.”
Scottie beamed her Cheshire cat grin.
“Obviously Jason didn’t realize blood had seeped onto the lining of his own coat or he would have dumped that one too.”
“I can see Jason champing at the bit.” She puckered her lips to whistle a tune and then stopped herself. “Luckily AJ wasn’t killed.”
“They found bloodied strands of Robbie’s hair as well.” Gibson smirked. “Too bad.” He drew a check-mark in the air.
“Blackmail.”
Gibson sat back in his chair to think but didn’t reply.
“So. Blackmail?” Scottie spoke again like a broken record. “Robbie realized the diploma was a fake and asked Jason for money. He promised not to expose him, but Jason got jumpy and killed him when it got to be too much for him.”
“Yeah,” Gibson said.
“Robbie made a poor choice. He should have reported the issue instead. Now he’s dead.”
“Still comes down to bullying. Jason has been just another bully at the maintenance yard,” he said. “You know in that atmosphere the whistleblower usually pays the price.”
“What do you mean?” Scottie asked.
“Robbie may have felt that snitching on Jason would land up biting him in the butt. That happens a lot. You wouldn’t think it worked that way but it does.”
“I’ve heard that.”
“Greed played a part in Robbie’s decision too,” Gibson said. “Let’s go to the lockup and read Jason his Miranda rights.”
Scottie gave him a fist tap and off they went.
* * *
Jason had been moved to the RCMP station and had been in custody overnight. They entered a room that was a shade of grey that matched the prisoner’s eyes. The door clanged behind them with a force that sucked the last of the air out of the room, leaving a stench of sweat.
