Ada asked if he was having lunch as he passed her in the lobby up to his room and he said no, eliciting a grunt. With the book open on his bed he wrote in the few new facts he'd learned from the O'Hares, including a couple of lines on Stella's apparent proclivities. Roger received a comment on his potential for being a dangerous person.

The rental was through an ad in the city paper placed by Stella. The lessee was a young man at his niece's university named Oliver Atturra. He had arranged the deal with Stella, paid the deposit and signed a faxed copy of the lease. The provincial police had confirmed all of that. He was unable to supply any other information to them about Adelaide's death because he said that he and his girlfriend didn't attend the beach party.

According to his statement they used the cottage—personally—while they had the opportunity. The police had scribbled a comment on the edge about Oliver's definition of personal.

Ray looked at his notes again. There were eleven people staying in the cottage, including Adelaide. Their names and copies of their statements were all in plastic sleeves in his binder, read and re-read a hundred times. He knew it all by heart. Six girls. Five boys. He now knew that Oliver had failed to mention how many would be staying there because of Stella's remark.

The other interesting note was that the local police had come by twice during the evening to check on the party, mainly because of the campfire but Stella's inference about Theo Hersch gave him some food for thought. He would be interested to see if the locals made any notes in their own incident log.

Ray stared out the window at the bay. He needed a crack somewhere. A place he could get his hands into and pry open. Maybe a neighbour that might know something about that weekend that nobody asked about. First, he decided, he'd visit the police station and speak to Williams. Since he found out that Williams was a buddy of Roger's it wouldn't do to have him find out second hand that somebody was nosing around without his knowledge. He scooped up his material and put it in the dresser then used the bathroom.

Downstairs at the counter, Walter was chatting with a man in a canvass hat and Detroit Tiger windbreaker. He gave Ray a chin wave and asked if the room was okay.

"Room's fine. I want to visit the police station, can you tell me where it is?"

"Something wrong?"

"Just business."

"Two blocks west and one block south." The other man said, anxious to get back to his own conversation.

"Thanks." Ray left, hearing the wag of tongues in his wake.

******

Garth Williams was a florid-faced, overweight, soft looking man too tall for his carriage. He stood with his shoulders hunched and his hands spread on the counter, listening to Ray. Faded blue eyes that watered, criss-crossed Rays face as he spoke and there was a nervous tic at the side of his mouth.

"You some kinda reporter or book writer?"

"No, I'm Adelaide Balfour's uncle. I'm making these enquiries because I don't think a thorough investigation was given to her killing."

"Talk to the provincials, they took over the case."

"I have but I'm still not satisfied."

"Waited kind long didn't you?"

"I wasn't in the country when it happened." Ray glanced behind the policeman at his untidy office and made a silent bet that his records would match.

"Well, I don't know what I can tell you." Williams spoke in a bored monotone.

"Is there anything you can tell me that might help? Something that was noted or felt at the time but not... used? Can I take a look at the file?"

"You sayin' we didn't do our job up here either?" The tic increased in intensity.

"Not at all, I know that sometimes you hear things or see things that don't register as important at the time. Maybe a comment by a neighbour or some seemingly unrelated incident that might help me now. Maybe you could tell me why that many kids were allowed to stay in the cottage; Mrs. O'Hare said they had no idea they were renting to that many."

"What registers with me, Mr. Simmons, is you stirrin' up stuff that's best left buried."

"This was my niece. The incident killed her mother and ruined her father. Best left buried isn't going to cut it."

Williams pulled up to his full height and puffed out his chest. "You show me something official that says I have to give you our file and you'll get it, otherwise I think Thompson Bay can do without your pryin'."

Ray took in the hostile stare and nodded. "Fair enough." He left the station with the feeling his every step was being watched and counted.

******

Duffy listened to Ray's progress, or non-progress as it turned out. He had found him waiting outside the building when he arrived to open up and they had shared coffee and the doughnuts Duffy brought every day to work. When he finished he clapped the powdered sugar off his hands, took a swig of coffee and made an offer of assistance with the senior officer, Howard Smithy.

"Captain Smithy is a reasonable guy, I think that he might at least let you look at the stuff on site if not actually take it away or copy it. I can speak to him; maybe infer the freedom of information act although it wouldn't apply in this case. He might not be fully aware of the latest legislation." It didn't sound to Ray like Captain Smithy was the first one across the finish line.

"I don't want you jeopardizing your relationships over this. You still have to live and work here."

"I'm already a bit of a 'no go zone' with these folks. Being the town conscience doesn't exactly get you invitations to everybody's business."

"I appreciate this, Mr. Wiltshire."

"Duffy'll do." A sparkle appeared in the older man's eyes that Ray recognized as an eagerness to saddle up.

"Okay, Duffy." Ray thought about involving the editor in his hunt and whether he could be relied upon to stay impartial. "What can you tell me about the two officers?"

"Williams and Hersch? Williams is all bluff and puff but a fairly readable guy as small town cops go. Theo Hersch, on the other hand, was a tad on the mean side."

"How so?" Stella's remark came to mind.

"Just the way he handled things. Liked to push and shove. Caught a reprimand once for thumpin' a guy who ignored a parking ticket. Used to spend a lot of time hasslin' the kids when they went snugglin' in the park. Chased the boys off and made the girls ride back to the station in his cruiser before lettin' them go. Some folks didn't like the idea but a few parents supported his actions and so it was ignored."

"Did any of the girls ever say anything about... anything?"

"Nope. One of the boys complained to Williams one time; his dad and Williams were friends. Nothin' came of it and the boy never said another word."

"The kids I interviewed down in the city said the police came around a couple of times to check and commented on the amount of drinking and the security of the campfire. Stella O'Hare mentioned the same thing. Seems reasonable I guess but not particularly effective."

Duffy flipped open a small notebook he'd pulled from his desk drawer. "In my interviews with the kids before they left they said that they never harassed them or made a fuss but two of the girls mentioned being closely questioned by one of the cops about the consequences of drinking too much. They felt that it wasn't advice he was giving so much as it was goading. That was Hersch," Duffy explained. "His style always was to take advantage." He tapped the pages of his book and shrugged.

"While I'm taking advantage, what do you know about Stella O'Hare and Hersch?"

Duffy's eyebrows lifted. "Drawin' a blank there, son. Stella's a bit of a flirt for sure but I don't think she would have encouraged Hersch.

"I got the impression from Stella that he was, I don't know, someone she was very happy to steer clear of."

"Like I just told you, he was an unpleasant guy and usually trouble and in her case he woulda been. Roger woulda tanned her hide if he caught her foolin' around with someone like Hersch."

The emphasis caught his attention and Ray waited but got nothing more. "That sounds like he didn't care if it was someone else."

"Look, Ray, there's some things that go on in small towns that don't have logical explanations. This is one. And I don't see where it has anything to do with your interests."

"I didn't look for this, Duffy, it just came up. These people are all connected to Adelaide no matter how slightly."

"Still..."

"Ray pressed. "Look, I know I'm opening old business to the people in this town but you did offer to help. I don't know if it helps or not but anything that leads me closer to the killer I'm going to worry to death. So, did he care?"

"Stella had a short fling with Garth Williams." He answered flatly.

"Roger's school buddy?"

"You know? You seem to have dug out a lot of dirt in a short time." Ray didn't speak. "Well, it seems buddies are tighter than married couples. Stella got a token whipping, a puffy eye and a bruised bottom according to the local doc gossip, and Williams was warned not to trespass again."

"That's it?"

"They're still pals."

Ray couldn't get his head around that one so he dropped the subject and thanked Duffy again for his offer of help and said he would wait to hear from him.

Irene dropped her groceries on the table and sat hard on the wooden kitchen chair, plunging her fingers into her hair. Woody had made his intentions perfectly clear with his smarmy offer and she felt sick inside knowing that she really had no choice. If the loan wasn't taken care of he would foreclose and she would lose everything. If only she could have avoided paying the roofer on completion... if wishes were horses, she scolded herself.

She took down her calendar and began noting the days and nights she would be working for Woody, moving some of her other duties around to suit. One conflict she found and completely forgot about was a babysitting promise on the night of the first Thursday she was supposed to cook for Woody.

Irene quickly got on the phone and called the woman, explaining that something had come up and she couldn't sit. The woman nearly cried into the phone; it was her mother's eightieth birthday and they had already bought gifts and paid for a restaurant party room. Irene asked her to leave it with her and she would try to make another arrangement. She dreaded the call to Woody but surely he would understand.

He didn't. What he did understand, and apparently she had not, was that she had made a contract with him and any breach of that contract could seriously affect her loan. She pleaded and argued and in the end agreed to an additional night of cooking for the first two months. Woody chose Sunday night with no room for negotiation. She could picture him pumping a fist in the air and licking his lips.

Irene called the woman back and said she'd fixed things so that she could sit after all. The woman cried again. Irene put her groceries away and forgot about cleaning the kitchen or having anything to eat. In a very short time she had to be at the hotel.

******

Roger tucked phone under his chin and twisted the cap off another beer as he listened to his buddy Garth Williams recount his talk with Ray Simmons. Not only had the call had interrupted one of his college games, his team had committed three fouls in a row and were now down by twelve points and Roger was in a foul mood.

"He was here already," Roger said. "Suckin' around Stella and askin' a lotta questions about the rental we did with them kids."

"What did you tell him?"

"Whatta ya think? The truth. I got nuthin' to hide."

"I didn't mean that you did, Rog. I just wondered what Stella might have said."

"She said the same as me. Why do you think she said something different?"

"I don't, I just asked. Maybe she let stuff slip." Garth bit his tongue at the error and he began to sweat as he listened to Rog's breathing down the line.

"About what, Garth?" The question drawled out, laced with suspicion. "What stuff?"

"Nuthin'. I just meant about the investigation... our handling of it."

"Stella and you bin getting' cozy again? We bin down this road, pal. Stella and you have nuthin' do with each other, got it?"

"Don't be nuts, Rog, I just asked a damn question." The line hummed silently. "He's gonna find a way to see our police files, I can tell. The guy's committed."

"So? You got something to hide?"

"No, but our investigation was pretty cursory after we zeroed in on that kid."

"Gee, Garth, I'm real concerned."

"Screw you, Roger. I called to keep you in the loop as a favour, but you can go back to suckin' your beer." The line went dead and Roger tossed the phone on the couch and took a long swallow as prescribed. His team committed another foul.

"Was that Garth?" Stella wandered into the room tying up her bathrobe and shaking out her wet hair. "What did he want?"

"Not you, and it better not be... ever." Roger swore at the TV.

"Can't you be civil for once?" She pouted and flopped into a chair across the room.

"He wanted to know if you let anything slip. What do you suppose he meant by that, Stella? You still got the hots for him haven't you?"

"No, Roger, I don't." She avoided his face and plucked at her robe. What on earth was the matter with Garth?

"Bullshit. If I wasn't around you'd be ridin' old Garth into the sunset." She stood and started out of the room. "Just don't ever let me catch you, Stella." As she left he issued a loud belch.

******

Ray stepped into the dining room and immediately caught the exasperated frown on Ada's face as she checked the time. He held up his hands and shrugged pleasantly. "What can I say? The food was so good I was afraid to go anywhere else and I didn't have lunch."

She pursed her lips, stuck for a response, and then waved him with a mock scolding to one of the tables, following and handing him the Xeroxed lunch menu.

"May I have a beer while I decide?"

Ada shuffled off without a word and a minute later Irene appeared with a bottle of cold Moosehead. She set it down and waited silently.

Ray looked up at her, puzzled. "Am I in the Thompson Bay Hotel?"

She frowned and stared at him. "Of course."

"Hmmm, last night I was served by a bubbly young woman with a bright smile and a ton of energy, she not in today?"

Irene stood still, blushing. "I'm sorry, I just have a lot on my mind. Do you know what you want?"

"I do. Besides this Thompson burger and fries, I'd like to have a coffee with that young woman when she gets off work. I'd like to ask her some questions about the town; maybe cheer her up a bit. Would you pass that on?"

Elwood's leering face swam before her and she didn't know what to say and as she stared at him Elwood faded and she saw a man about ten years her senior with the kindest eyes she'd ever seen and before thinking it through, nodded, wrote down his order and left. Her feelings from earlier in the day resurfaced and Irene wondered if she was projecting her fantasies onto his attention or if there was a real possibility of some connection between them. It left her excited and worried at the same time.

He hoped Irene's acceptance wasn't something she felt as a duty to a guest. Something in the way a light came on behind the eyes and the corner of the mouth lifted when it smiled reminded him of Adelaide. He sipped his beer and shook the photographic images he'd seen from his head. Nothing in the pictures looked like the vibrant young woman he'd teased and laughed with all her years growing up. Her death had smashed his only family into pieces and in such a senseless, violent manner. Why her? Why any of them, but why her?

Ray finished lunch and cemented his coffee date with Irene for eleven that night at a doughnut shop away from the hotel, promising not to keep her long. Meanwhile he went back to his room and began looking up the telephone numbers of the owners of adjacent properties along the shore where Adelaide was killed. Half an hour later his calls had yielded nothing. Most of the people had been away and those that weren't had nothing to help and a few wanted nothing to do with him. Ray looked at his watch and pulled a face.

He decided to tackle the bank before it closed and confirm the details around the cottage rental. According to the provincial police records and the O'Hares, the actual handling of the deal, while they were away, was left to the bank. Roger and Stella had agreed to the request from Oliver Atturra for the dates, signed the papers and left the rest to one Elwood Peters at the local bank branch.