Peter Turnbull - Deliver Us from Evil

‘Cooperation will be of the fullest, of course, and we are keen to know how come Edith Lecointe’s or Avrille’s name was used. . like, where is she now? There may be a heap more to this than the murder which occurred in England.’

‘Absolutely, as is always the case.’ Yellich raised his eyebrows and settled back in his chair. ‘Yet the lady was frightened. She was scared of something or someone. She was in hiding, going out in disguise and doing what she could to raise hard cash and we don’t know who she was, because neither her fingerprints nor her DNA are on our database.’

‘None on ours either.’ McLeer pronounced ‘either’ in the American way of ‘ee-thuer’ which grated on the ears of Yellich and Ventnor who both pronounced ‘either’ and ‘neither’ as ‘I-ther’ and ‘ni-ther’ as they had been taught and as they believed was the right and proper pronunciation. ‘So,’ McLeer continued, ‘we have to find out who Edith Lecointe or Avrille is. . or was.’

‘It’s the only place we can start,’ Yellich offered.

‘Yes, yes it is. How are you feeling?’

‘Tired.’ Yellich forced a grin.

‘Yes, you would be.’ McLeer looked at his watch. ‘Four p.m. . your body clock is at eight p.m., just a few hours’ time difference at the moment. Usually it’s five but we put our clocks forward two weeks before you do and back two weeks earlier also. So there are two two-week periods each year when we have a four-hour time difference, once in the spring and once in the fall but even so, four hours is still four hours and after a long flight. Is the hotel to your liking?’

‘Yes, thank you.’ It was, thought Yellich, a diplomatic reply.

‘We put you centrally but you will find that it will be quiet. Barrie is not New York City, as you will see. Tomorrow I will introduce you to Sergeant Auphan, the French-speaking officer I have in mind. Sergeant Auphan has room at the moment to work with you on this case.’

‘Thank you.’ Yellich stood, as did Ventnor. Both men were weary and in need of a shower and a long sleep.

‘So this is it. . this is where it all ended for little you. . little you and your little games.’ The man looked at the area beyond the blue and white police tape which fluttered loudly in the strong breeze. ‘. . All just to fetch up here. . and isn’t it just such a lonely place to die? What a dance you led me. . what a dance, but I got you in the end, didn’t I. .? Eh. .? Didn’t I get you in the end?’

Sunday, 29th March, nine a.m.

The woman was tall, dark-haired, slender with high cheekbones. She had a gentleness of manner and a soft speaking voice which appealed to both Yellich and Ventnor. Particularly to Ventnor. She smiled warmly as she entered the room in which the two officers had been asked to wait, which overlooked the 400 Highway, the rooftops and thick stand of trees to the high-rise development of central Barrie in the mid distance. She extended her hand and said, ‘Hello, I am Detective Sergeant Auphan, Marianne Auphan’. She slid gracefully behind the desk in the room and laid a manila folder on her highly polished desktop. She immediately invited Yellich and Ventnor to resume their seats with a deft feminine wrist action. ‘So,’ she said, ‘Edith Lecointe.’ She spoke with a slight French accent which suggested that was her dominant language although she was to prove herself word perfect in English. ‘I have her file here. She died three years ago, aged forty-seven years. Is that in keeping with the age of the deceased in question?’

‘Yes,’ Yellich replied, ‘it is.’ He opened the file he carried and handed her photographs of the woman as she was found on the canal bank on the outskirts of York.

‘Strange half sitting position,’ Sergeant Auphan remarked.

‘Yes, we believe she was left for dead but in fact regained consciousness briefly only to succumb to hypothermia. The post-mortem revealed that she had no food in her stomach. We believe she was kept against her will for two days and deprived of food in that period. That of course didn’t help her retain her body heat.’

‘It wouldn’t. A full stomach is like a form of central heating, or so we are constantly being told and in Canada it is vital to keep our young women eating sufficiently. . anorexia and Canadian winters are not a healthy combination, even if we or they do dress for it.’ She turned and glanced out of her window. ‘It’s mild now but we will have more snow before the spring is finally here, then Ontario will bake. Believe me, gentlemen, in Ontario you are either in the fridge or in the oven with some in-between sort of days in spring and in the fall. . and they are few and far between.’

‘So we believe,’ Yellich answered.

‘This is a fortunate time for you to come really, over the worst of winter and before the full force of summer. You might even find the weather tolerable. But, to the matter in hand, there is clearly foul play here,’ she looked at the photographs, ‘so our first port of call must be Edith Lecointe’s last known address on Wattie Road in Midhurst. So, shall we go?’

Wattie Road, Midhurst revealed itself to be approximately two miles north of downtown Barrie. It was a narrow, winding road which both Yellich and Ventnor thought was poorly surfaced with cracks and potholes every few feet thus making driving a slow and careful procedure. The area itself was, it seemed, prestigious with large houses, some in the European style of two storeys with pronounced angled roofs, others in a more traditional New World style, a single storey but with a very broad frontage and with either a flat roof or a slightly angled roof, but all with a double garage built into or at the side of the main building, and each occupying its own very generous parcel of land. Each house also seemed to have a porch on which stood one or two plastic chairs, the observation of which triggered a distant memory of Yellich’s of once reading that the favoured pastime of Canadians was sitting on the front porch in the long summer evenings. What few cars were parked in the driveways of the houses were new and large and mainly American, although catching sight of a solitary Jaguar made Ventnor feel at home. Between the houses and behind them were trees, at that time of year without foliage. What both the British officers noticed was how uniformly tall and upright the trees seemed, and how close together they stood, more akin to stalks in a cornfield than trees in a wood. So tightly packed were they that a man would have to weave continually between them if he were to make any progress through the woodland, and Yellich guessed that any man entering the wood and walking away from an observer on the roadside would be lost from sight ere he had walked ten feet. Yellich asked what sort of trees they were.

‘Spruce,’ Marianne Auphan replied confidently as she turned the unmarked car into the driveway of a wide, flat roofed property painted pale blue and halted the car between a bright yellow and highly polished Cherokee Jeep and a speedboat and trailer. ‘They’re green spruce, already.’

Marianne Auphan left the car and, without locking it, led Yellich and Ventnor to the house. She walked up the wooden steps of the porch and knocked on the door with an odd, thought Yellich, yet pleasing and effective mixture of reverence and authority, a knock which was clearly well rehearsed and practised. It was evident to both Yellich and Ventnor that Sergeant Auphan had honed her ‘people skills’ over the years and knew how to win the public over to her side. Her attitude made Yellich and Ventnor feel comfortable and wholly reassured. The door of the house opened and a middle-aged woman in a blue sweater and thick tartan patterned skirt stood in the doorway. She seemed to the officers to be well nourished; her figure may, they thought, be fairly described as ‘curvy’ but the ‘curvy’ nature seemed to have developed from a more slender figure of her youth. Her hair was silver and close cut. Spectacles hung on a silver chain round her neck as did not one, but three, necklaces. Her fingers were adorned with rings and stones. The wristwatch she wore was large and manly. ‘Help you?’ she asked, not seeming to be afraid of the strange woman and two strange men who had called on her without any prior warning.