The Travelling Detective: Boxed Set Read online

  A voice answered and he asked for Betty. There was a pause then the woman said. “I’m sorry, she passed away yesterday.”

  He hung up and sat down hard on the couch. She had actually died. The only mother he’d known was dead. Tears stung his eyes. He wiped at them angrily. What was he crying for? She really wasn’t his mother. She’d lied to him for years. But he couldn’t stop.

  Chapter 6

  Elizabeth retraced her drive to the Crowsnest Highway, turned left and smiled as she took in the scene before her. Golden grass stretched for miles and the snow capped Rocky Mountains towered in the distance. She spent a few moments gazing at the line of jagged peaks and wondered how the people who lived within view of them got anything done. Maybe after a while they didn’t notice them anymore but she doubted it. They were just too captivating.

  But the mountains triggered memories of her mother and her throat contracted. She felt the tears waiting to fall. She didn’t want to think of her mother right now, she didn’t want the pain. She gulped a few times and made her mind switch to the bones she had seen piled beside the tank. There were a lot of questions she knew the police had to answer, such as whether the skeleton was that of a man or woman, how old the person was, how long ago the person had died and if they could match the DNA to someone of that age and sex who might have gone missing around the same time.

  In light of Buddy Turner’s comments about Harry Wilson, it sounded as if Harry could have had something to do with it. And since he had disappeared about nine years ago, the timing made sense.

  It was hard to picture Peggy Wilson having anything to do with a murder. But Elizabeth hadn’t known her for very long. She only felt like she did because Peggy reminded her so much of her Aunt Emily, who was roughly the same shape and size and who had played cards with her and her siblings when they were younger. But still, Peggy had owned the land for years, so of course she would be a suspect.

  “Watch for the fifty two wind turbines that can be seen on Cowley Ridge to the left,” she said into the laptop. “They convert the strong southern Alberta winds into electricity.”

  Elizabeth was disappointed to see that they were standing still. Where were those winds today? She turned onto the road leading to them, took pictures of the row and of the interpretive signs, and was on her way again.

  Elizabeth headed left to go to the Lundbreck Falls Recreation Area. Soon she reached the two-tiered campsite to her right. She drove to the lower campsite which was situated near the river and parked in an open area.

  She and Chevy walked to the river and found a path to the left. In his usual way, Chevy scoured the bushes to discover what other dogs had been there before him. Elizabeth climbed the path uphill and found herself under a bridge that crossed over the canyon formed by the force of the rushing Crowsnest River. From where she was standing, she could see Lundbreck Falls.

  The water cascaded over the rock face sending up droplets of water that caught the sunlight and made small rainbows. She was always amazed at how something as ordinary as water could be so beautiful.

  She wished her mother was here to share this with her. Waterfalls had been a close second to mountains as her favourite sights. Actually, she wished her mother was here to share this whole trip. She probably would have enjoyed trying to solve the skeleton mystery with her because she certainly had liked listening to Elizabeth tell about her experience in Red Deer. Of course, being a mother, she had told Elizabeth she shouldn’t have been so foolhardy. But in the next breath she’d asked for more details.

  Elizabeth, too, loved waterfalls and she really didn’t want to leave this one, but she could see dark clouds rising over the mountains and she didn’t want to get caught in a rainstorm. She looked at her watch. She was actually ahead of schedule.

  The road continued from the falls back to the Crowsnest Highway. After driving a few kilometres she entered the Crowsnest Pass. She recalled the story of how the highway and the pass had received their name. According to legend, many years ago a band of warring Crow camped near the mountains. They hid in the rocks of the pass and waited for a group from the Blackfoot tribe to approach. The Blackfoot warriors, however, discovered the attackers and massacred them all. They’d named the area “the nest of the Crows.” That was certainly going in her article.

  By the beginning of the 20th century, the Crowsnest Pass was one of the largest coal producing regions of Canada. Shortly after entering the pass Elizabeth saw the stone ruins of Leitch Collieries, one of the largest mines in the area. She turned off the highway into the parking lot to read about the coal company.

  “Leitch Collieries was established here in 1907,” she recorded. “And the only coal mine that was completely Canadian owned. But construction problems, worker’s strikes, a decrease in coal prices and lack of contracts led to the colliery folding in 1915.”

  Elizabeth walked through the two stone buildings, which had neither windows nor a roof, and read the signs recounting the mining process. It was amazing how well preserved they were considering they were over one hundred years old.

  Back in her vehicle, she began to plan what she would put in her article. She hadn’t been to many places yet and already she was beginning to worry about what she could include. So far, she wanted to keep in everything she had seen today.

  When she saw the sign for Bellevue she turned right and followed more signs to the Bellevue Mine. It was now black overhead and drops of rain were splatting on her windshield. An umbrella was one thing she hadn’t included in her gear. It was a good thing this stop was inside.

  * * * *

  “You want to go where?” Cindy Sinclair asked. She stood in the kitchen doorway watching her father make sandwiches for their lunch.

  “To Fort Macleod,” Brian Sinclair said.

  “Where’s that?”

  “In southern Alberta.”

  “Why there?”

  “You said you’d like to go somewhere this summer.”

  “I know, but why would we want to go there?” Cindy made a face. She went to the refrigerator and poured them each a glass of milk. “Why can’t we go to Miami or California or Hawaii like everyone else?”

  “We can’t afford to go to those places.”

  “Do I have to go then?” Her voice went into whine mode. “Can’t I stay with one of my friends?”

  “I want you to come with me.” Brian placed the plates on the table.

  “But it’s such short notice.” Cindy sat on her side and took a drink of milk. “I have to pack and say goodbye to my friends.”

  “It took me awhile to decide I wanted to go.” Brian picked up a half of sandwich.

  He’d raised Cindy alone and was proud of the job he’d done. She made high marks in school, played baseball and soccer, and, as soon as she was old enough, had begun babysitting to earn her own money. Right now she had blue spiked hair and an imitation nose ring. Next week her hair might be pink and she’d have a fake tattoo on her shoulder. But these changes were artificial, something she tried for the fun of it.

  He felt the pull of nostalgia as he remember how they’d spent so much time together hiking and fishing and exploring Vancouver Island when she was younger. But now that she was in her mid-teens, she wanted to spend more time with her friends. He understood that, had known it would eventually happen. But sometimes he longed for the days when she would ask him where they were going for the weekend instead of saying she was going to a movie or staying overnight with a friend. She also had started testing him and herself by arguing and talking back, by staying out past her curfew on her dates. He’d had to ground her more than once in the past year.

  “But why there?” Cindy insisted. “I’ve never even heard of the place. What will I do there for two weeks?”

  Brian wasn’t sure how to answer. He didn’t want to tell her that she might have a grandfather living there. He knew from his own past experience that it would open up a lot of questions, such as why he hadn’t told her before. And what if they
didn’t find him? Any argument over his not telling her would have been for nothing. In response, he gave the one answer he hated using. “Because I said so.”

  “Don’t I have any say?” she demanded, angrily. “After all it is my vacation, too.”

  “Not this time.”

  “Well, when are we going?”

  “Day after tomorrow.”

  “Then I’d better go tell my friends that I get to go to Alberta this summer,” Cindy said, sarcastically. She stood and flounced out the door, leaving her sandwich untouched.

  Brian watched her go. It was times like this that he disliked being a parent. It was tough to force your child do something she didn’t want to and without any explanation.

  But still, overall they got along really well. He hoped that whatever he might find out in Fort Macleod would not damage their relationship.

  * * * *

  There was a group of people wearing hard hats and miners’ lamps waiting to take the four o’clock tour of the mine when Elizabeth parked. They all wore heavy jackets and some had mitts, a strange sight considering it was the middle of summer. She slumped back in her seat. She was tired and hungry. She’d only had the two bananas, chocolate milk and a granola bar all day. Morning seemed like such a long time ago but, in order to get her article done in the time she’d allotted, she had to push herself every day. Luckily, today the driving distances between places had been relatively short so, even with the time she’d spent at each attraction, she still arrived here early enough.

  But, she’d better buy her ticket. She got out of her Tracker and with head down against the rain she headed towards the group. She glanced up when she heard the name Harry Wilson in a conversation between two women. Being the inquisitive person that she was, she slowed to catch as much as possible.

  “I lived in Fort Macleod years ago,” the first woman was saying. “And I knew Harry and Peggy Wilson. I remember seeing him yell at one of his daughter’s boyfriends right on the main street. And then he actually hit him, knocked him right down onto the sidewalk.”

  “That’s pretty harsh,” the second woman said. “But do you really think he could he have killed someone?”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

  Harry’s temper sure was well known, Elizabeth thought.

  “He also fooled around on his wife,” the first woman asserted with a nod. “He left Peggy for a married woman years ago. And no one has seen him since.”

  As she continued for the entrance, she just barely caught the last comments.

  “If no one has seen him for years maybe the skeleton is Harry himself.”

  “You know, I have been wondering that myself.”

  Elizabeth went inside the interpretive building. She paid for her ticket then tried on the hard hats with their miners’ lamps until she found one that fit her. With that in her hand she hurried back to the Tracker for something warm to wear, as the cashier had told her that the temperature was seven degrees Celsius in the mine. She didn’t have a heavy jacket with her but she did have her lumberjack shirt and a raincoat. When she was bundled up she joined her group. The two women were now talking about an Australian trip one of them planned to take in the fall.

  The tour guide came out and they were led to the mine entrance where they turned on their lamps. Inside, as they walked, the lamps created shadows on the rough black walls, ceiling and floor. Elizabeth loved the spooky feeling it produced. As they shuffled along, the guide kept up a running commentary on the workings of the mine, pointing out coal seams, equipment, tools and side tunnels. Elizabeth found it absorbing. She wondered what it would have been like to work in here every day, especially since the cold and damp had begun to sink in and Elizabeth, along with everyone else, was shivering.

  Then the guide stopped the group and told them to turn off their lamps. As each one blinked off, the darkness grew deeper until Elizabeth could see nothing, absolutely nothing, not the person next to her, nor even her hand held in front of her face. Now this was an experience to write about! Not only was it dark, but quiet, for no one dared to move or speak. This would definitely be one of the highlights of her article.

  They switched on their lamps and reached the end of the tunnel. There they turned around, walking faster on their way out. Although it was raining, it felt warm to Elizabeth when she got outside again. She returned the hard hat but when she got back to her vehicle she found Chevy shivering on the mattress. She started the engine and turned the heater on. After removing her raincoat she pulled Chevy onto her lap and wrapped her jacket around him to warm him. The temperature was a far cry from this morning when she had needed the air-conditioning.

  She was finished for the day and when Chevy had quit trembling, she headed to the B&B. The further east she travelled the more the rain tapered off, although the clouds were still overhead. She gassed up and picked up some food for her supper and a little can of Chevy’s favourite dog food. She also bought the Calgary Herald, a daily newspaper from that city, and last week’s editions of the Fort Macleod Gazette and the Crowsnest Pass Promoter. The papers would give her something to read this evening. A small headline at the bottom of the front page of The Herald announced the discovery of bones in a septic tank near Fort Macleod. The reporter had even named the skeleton `Septic Stan.’

  Chapter 7

  Elizabeth stopped at the information centre but Peggy wasn’t there to greet her.

  “Where’s Mrs. Wilson?” she asked the man behind the counter.

  “She isn’t feeling well,” he answered.

  “I hope it’s not serious.”

  “Do you know her?”

  “Yes. I’m staying at her daughter’s B&B.” She knew it sounded like they were more than just new acquaintances but she hoped something like that would give him a reason to open up and talk.

  “I think it’s because of what happened yesterday.” He leaned on the counter and confided in her. “You heard about the skeleton, didn’t you?”

  Elizabeth nodded.

  “Well, it was found on her acreage … that is, on the acreage she used to own.”

  “Hmm” Elizabeth said. She’d discovered that you could learn more by keeping your mouth shut than by admitting that you’d already heard a piece of news.

  “Yup. There were so many people coming in to get the lowdown from her that she phoned me to take over.”

  “That was nice of you … John,” Elizabeth said, peering at his name tag.

  “Well, Peggy’s been a good friend for a lot of years.”

  “Did you know her husband, Harry?”

  John made a face. “She did badly when she married him.”

  “Because of his temper?”

  “And because he was always drinking and having affairs.” John’s voice had a hint of disgust in it

  Confirmation of the conversation she’d overheard at Bellevue. Elizabeth shook her head, as if agreeing with his disgust before continuing. “He left nine years ago, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, and it was her lucky day.”

  “Why did he leave?”

  “He took off with a married woman.” John’s hand came down hard on the counter.

  So the story was true.

  “Do you know who she was?”

  “Julia, something. I can’t remember her last name.”

  Julia Clarke. “Do you know where they went?” Might as well keep asking if he was going to keep answering.

  “Nope.”

  “And Harry hasn’t been seen since?”

  He started to shake his head, then looked at her. “Are you thinking that might be his skeleton?”

  Elizabeth shrugged. Other people certainly seemed to think so.

  He scratched his chin. “I never thought of that. Surely you don’t think Peggy might be a murderer?”

  Before Elizabeth could point out that wasn’t what she was getting at a couple entered the building, interrupting their conversation. She thanked him and left, wishing she hadn’t said anything. She
suspected it wouldn’t be long before that rumour spread.

  The wind was blowing strongly and it was sprinkling rain as she drove south of town. Traffic was heavy and at the gravel road she found out why. All the vehicles ahead of her were turning. On the narrow road a steady stream of cars and trucks travelled in both directions. Everyone drove slow and close to the ditches. She suspected all were looking for the suddenly famous septic tank.

  Sure enough, as each vehicle arrived at the little house the driver stopped so everyone in the car could take a good look. Some took so long the ones behind honked their horns. There was no way she could get out of the line, so she sat with her foot on the clutch, just letting it out enough to creep one vehicle length ahead at a time. The lurching seemed to irritate Chevy and he began to growl.

  “Sorry, Sweetie.” Elizabeth said, rubbing his ears. “But there isn’t much I can do about it.”

  She noticed again that there were no other houses in the vicinity, just farmland. Peggy hadn’t had any close neighbours when she’d lived here. She couldn’t help but wonder if she’d been lonely.

  While she waited, Elizabeth focused on the idea of launching a writing career in a new genre. She could open a file and put in everything she learned about the “Septic Stan” investigation, as the paper was calling it. Maybe she could sell it to a true crime magazine or she could fictionalize it and write a novel. Or she could do both. Why hadn’t she contemplated doing either of those for the murder in Red Deer? She was obviously getting more caught up in this mystery idea than she realized. But this new writing path tantalized her and she couldn’t stop smiling at the thought.

  She would have to read some true crime magazines to see how the stories in them were told. Did the writer talk in the first person explaining the research she had done or did she tell how the crime was committed and the clues subsequently untangled? She’d also have to keep all the newspapers with their stories so she could refer to them if necessary.