Murder On The Lane

By Verna Reid

The ever-resourceful Jenny Aldred finds herself in a situation from which she may not get out of alive. It all began with the discovery of a body in a field used as a burial ground for the First Nation warriors who fought in the War of 1812. But in that same desolate field there was one body of a more recent vintage, and when it was uncovered, Staff Sergeant William Janes once again was involved with Jenny in tracing the horrific events that led to death. The trail follows the winding Lundy’s Lane, west to Highway 20, and eventually leads to a long-forgotten love affair in Toronto.The two protagonists become star-crossed lovers in this exciting story of murder and suicide, as Janes becomes interested in the beautiful physiotherapist, Lee Monserra, and Jenny discovers handsome George Arkwright is not all he seems to be. It is only when Jenny’s life is in danger that the unexpected solution is revealed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Books for Pleasure
• Release date: Sep 25, 2014
• ISBN: 9781553491125

Book preview

Murder On The Lane

By Verna Reid

Copyright Verna Reid 2004

All rights reserved

ISBN # 978-1-55349-112-5

Published by Books for Pleasure at Smashwords

DISCLAIMER

MURDER ON THE LANE is a work of fiction. Any similarity to events, situations, places or persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

PROLOGUE

The large backhoe inched its way across the muddy field churning up great chunks of dirt with its enormous, balloon-like tires. Slowly, under the expert care of the driver, it raised and then lowered its giant teeth to grab a huge shovelful of earth. Swinging around, the deposit was made to an already growing pile of trash at the side of the field.

The machine backed up, preparing to once again attack the ground, when a cry went up from the nearby men dressed in safety hats, rubber boots and wearing the bright yellow vests of the construction workers. The driver leaned out of the cab, and yelled, What? What’s wrong?

One of the men detached himself from the group of eight or so who hurried over to the freshly dug hole. He held up a hand, and said, There’s something, or someone here, Jeff. Stop the motor and come on down. We’ll have to take a closer look.

The tall, muscular young man swung himself down easily hand over hand, and dropped to the ground. What have you got there? he asked as he strolled over to the pile of earth being inspected by his co-workers.

Looks like a body, for God’s sake, said the foreman of the crew. What the hell’s a body doing here? The cemetery is blocks away. He bent over to examine the find more closely, then straightened up with a shudder. It’s a part of a body. Been there for awhile by the looks of it.

Jeff joined him, and squatted down. Yeah, it’s human whoever it was. And I don’t think it has ever seen the inside of a coffin. Then realizing what he had said, he gave a short grunt of a laugh. I guess not too many do see the inside of their coffin.

Not funny, Jeff, said his boss, turning to address the crew standing by and murmuring among themselves. I’d say we’re finished here for at least the rest of the day…and maybe a few days more. OK guys, secure your gear and I’ll call 911. I don’t know whose jurisdiction this comes under, but we don’t want anything to do with it.

He was reaching for his cell phone as he spoke, and with an unusual and extraordinary silence the men went back to their tools, packed up and piled into the truck that awaited their departure.

Although it was only mid-afternoon, the sky was already darkening in the late winter day. Snow was threatening, and the foreman, talking on the phone, was a lonely looking figure as he stood amidst the rubble of the chewed-up field. He knew he’d have to stay there until someone was sent to investigate the discovery of the body. Work on the construction site would be halted. The building of the proposed condominium would be on hold until questions about this day’s find were answered.

CHAPTER ONE

The cab spun to a halt in front of my townhouse, and the driver leapt out to help me with my bags. He trotted to my front door, deposited them on my postage-size landing, and waited while I fumbled for his tip.

Thanks, I said, as I dropped a bill and some loonies into his outstretched hand. You made good time from the airport.

Right, ma’am, he said, turning to leave. Take care. With a flourish, he drove off.

I put the key into the lock, turned it and opened the door. I shoved my bags with my foot into the hallway and switched on the light. Breathing a sigh of relief, I went directly into my kitchen. I needed food, a cup of tea, a bath and a good night’s sleep in that order. Sorting of clothes, checking the mail and the answering machine could wait until tomorrow. I thanked whatever gods look after solitary females with stressful careers for the foresight of booking off a few days’ extension to my holiday. Now I could get slowly into the discipline needed after three weeks of total indulgence and idleness.

I had taken a long vacation this year in March to join a friend on the West Coast as she prepared for her wedding – her second. She had been completely considerate of my need for a break and instead of my assistance, she insisted on treating me to breakfasts in bed, decadent dinners, and enough time to myself to catch up on some reading. Indeed, it was only on the day before her wedding that I was allowed to help her get ready. The wedding party was small…just the bride and groom, the young daughter of the bride, the groomsman and myself. Mavis Barry and I had known each other for donkey’s years. I had been present at her first marriage…a short lived affair that produced one good thing – a lovely daughter now 13 years old, and the spitting image of her mother. I was Gillian’s godmother and so had more than a slight interest in her. Mavis had been calm and lovely in a peach-colored suit and a sprig of peach-toned baby’s breath in her hair. The groom wore a navy blue suit and a smile as wide as the Grand Canyon. Gillian was a delight in a soft purple full-length dress. I splurged for a new gown of deep green velvet, with matching bag. We were, in short, an elegant gathering. The church service was a happy affair, with the fine aroma of affection surrounding the small group. Following the wedding breakfast, I retreated to Mavis’s home to tidy up before heading to the airport.

The new bride and her husband were on their honeymoon now, Gillian was with her grandmother, and I was back home in Niagara Falls.

It had been a smooth trip east, but tiring. I had caught the last plane to Toronto and then took a cab home. It was now dusk, and as I prepared for an early night, I thought I would leave my small dog, Patsy, where she was at a friend’s home until tomorrow. Time enough to pick up the threads of my life in the small city after a good night’s sleep.

The morning brought renewed vigor, and I set about the mundane affairs of getting the laundry done, sorting through the accumulated mail left on my counter courtesy of my next door neighbour, and checking on both e-mail, and voice mail. Since most of the people who might be contacting me knew I would be away, there was very little of interest. One message left on my answering machine brought a smile to my lips. I punched it up and my smile broadened as I heard the deep, resonant voice.

I know you’ll be home today, and in need of a dinner out, so unless I hear to the contrary, I’ll pick you up at seven. There was a pause, and in a quick change of pace, the voice rumbled on, I’ve missed you, Jenny Aldred. The click ended the confession! There was no need to identify the voice. I had heard it many times.

William Janes was Staff Sergeant with the Niagara Regional Police, and we had shared more than a few interesting days and adventures together. Anything that could possibly have led to a more intimate relationship had been squelched, harmoniously, some time ago, but it was always a pleasure to hear from him. I think, in fact I’m certain, he felt the same way about me. In any case, I was pleased with his welcome home, and would indeed accept his invitation to dinner. I didn’t feel like eating alone.

I quickly sorted out my clothing, put in a load of laundry and got into the familiar habits of home. I picked up my small dog, who expressed sheer delight at seeing me, went to the nearest supermarket to replenish both my refrigerator and my food cupboard, then to the bank to pay the few bills that had accumulated in my absence. I decided to forego lunch, munching instead on a rosy apple as I put away dried laundry and ironed what simply could not be folded and forgotten. I enjoyed these homely duties and I was looking forward to dinner with a companion who would have been my first choice in any given situation.

What to wear was the most pressing problem, which was soon solved as I set out a green pant suit, that I flattered myself made my hair more auburn and accentuated the color of my eyes, a beige turtleneck top and brown pumps. I didn’t anticipate an elegant restaurant…it was not Janes’s style. But the meal would be good and the conversation lively. Janes and I had developed a rare camaraderie that consisted of an underlying feeling of sincere affection, topped by exchanges that to an outsider may have seemed argumentative. That could not be farther from the case. I respected and relied on Janes, and he in turn, supported and understood me. I think we both knew we had something rare, and did all we could to maintain that quality.

But it was not always easy. Janes was a widower, and I too long single to be considered anything but a loner, and possibly lonely, woman. Truth to tell, there were many days (and nights) when I could have very easily picked up the telephone and invited him to stay for as long as he wanted. Whether he would have agreed is debatable, and I had not the courage to put him to the test. We had long ago acknowledged our respective ways of life would in all probability clash, and simply ignored any reference to a more intimate situation. I had a busy life as creative head at the local radio station, and as an important member of the police force, Janes was on call at all times. Altogether, it was a dicey probability, and neither of us felt inclined to change the status quo.

At seven the doorbell rang. Patsy barked and raced down the small hall to the front door, and I followed at a more sedate pace. Janes stood outside, and I felt a small thrill of pleasure at seeing his rugged, honest face. A tall man, with the bulk that he carried well, he moved easily into my house and gave me a quick hug. His blue eyes were alive with welcome, his face creased in a smile.

Glad to see you, Jenny, he said, holding me at arm’s length to inspect my face. I couldn’t resist a quick smile in return, and when satisfied with his inspection, he dropped his arms, and went into my kitchen which was adjacent to the hall. Again, his size dwarfed the room, and as I followed him, I was aware once again of the formidable presence he could, when necessary, convey.

It was good to get away, but it’s nice to be home, I assured him. What had you planned for dinner?

If you don’t mind, I’d like to take a quick run up Lundy’s Lane to Highway 20, for a second. There’s a site I want to have a look at. Then we can head to a pleasant place I’ve found out that way. They do a rather nice side of ribs…that’s if you like.

I like. I’m starving already, so please Janes, don’t linger wherever it is you have to go. I gave him a questioning glance. You’re really never going to be off duty, are you?

He grinned, and shook his head. It won’t take long, and in fact, it’s almost on our way. Would I keep you longing for food?

Yes, if it interfered in your pursuit of some mad criminal.

Not in pursuit this time. Just checking something out. He turned toward the door. Get your coat, and wear a scarf and gloves. It’s bitterly cold out there.

Janes, you really have got to get over this barking of orders. Of course I’m going to dress warmly. It’s not spring yet, for heaven’s sake. Let’s go. I struggled into my coat, and wrapped a scarf around my neck, before putting on the gloves. We left Patsy looking longingly out the kitchen window and got into his car parked just in front of the house.

We headed up Lundy’s Lane, past the myriad tourist services, restaurants, drive-ins and motels, and connected with Highway 20, still heading west. The drive became more scenic as we left the bright lights behind. When we came to an empty field, Janes swung the car onto a rutted, single-track road and pulled up beside an area marked by the yellow police ribbon.

Stay here, he commanded as the car drew to a halt, and he opened the door.

Why? What’s here anyway, Janes?

It may be nothing…or it may be something, was the brief reply as he strode away, lifted up the ribbon and pulled out a flashlight. All I could see from where I sat was a barren field, made more rugged by what looked like piles of rubble. A few heavy-duty trucks were parked just inside the police barrier. Other than that, it was a dreary and isolated piece of land, on the edge of the busy highway. A solitary, seemingly empty house was situated at the far end of the field.

As I watched from the car, he walked over to a dark pile of earth, and shone the flashlight around as though looking for something. I could see the beam of light swerve, then settle and then resume its travel over the mounds. What he could be searching for at this time of night, I could not imagine.

Satisfied after a few moments of scanning a wider area, he returned to the car, and to my eager questions.

What IS this, Janes? Why are we here looking around some pile of dirt? And why the police cordon?

He started the car and shifted into gear before answering, while I sat fuming beside him. Drat the man. He could be so plodding, so policeman-like!

Well, Jenny, you’ll probably hear about it anyway, and I guess I’m surprised you haven’t already found out something, knowing your nose for mysteries. He grinned as he said it, and proceeded at his own leisurely pace to tell me a body had been discovered three days ago in the field, and there were questions about when it had been buried, how long it had been dead, and how it had died.

It, it, it! I exclaimed. Surely you know whether it’s a man or a woman!

Sorry, Jen, he said quietly. We didn’t have the sex identified for some time, and I guess I got into the habit of referring to the corpse as ‘it.’ But you’re right. It is a male, and he had been dead for a number of years…perhaps a hundred.

I digested this information for a few minutes then said, Could it have been an early settler? Or a native?

Janes shrugged. Could be. We have to let the forensics team decide that.

Then why have you come out here?

I just thought there may have been some artifacts buried at the site, and I wanted to get to them as quickly as I could before some more digging started tomorrow.

And you found…?

Nothing. If there’s anything more there, I expect the construction crew will be the finders, and there’s nothing I can do right now. So let’s forget about it, he said as he drew up in front of a small roadside restaurant. I want to concentrate on my dinner, since I had no lunch, and on a certain red-head who has been away for a long time.

As always, this seemingly unemotional police detective could switch to a warm, endearing man and I responded as usual…with a gentle glow and a feeling of immense satisfaction. There was no doubt in my mind he was an excellent detective; he had the capacity to sit quietly, listen intently, and absorb information. When not used to grill a suspect, these qualities made Janes a most attractive companion. His eyes sparkled intelligently when I made some humorous remark, or when I told of some funny episode. He was, literally, with me all the way as I spoke of my holiday, and the trip home and I appreciated the chance to share this particular quiet adventure.

When we arrived at our destination, I was not impressed. The restaurant looked fairly old and not particularly attractive with four or five booths in a dull unappetizing brown shade. The bench seats that flanked the tables were so padded, I sank into one as if it were a down pillow.

I may never get out of here, Janes, I remarked as I struggled to sit up straight.

But the seats are comfortable, aren’t they? he said in a defensive tone.

I had to admit this was true, and I relaxed as we both looked over the menu the waiter placed before us. He at least looked promising as he wore, along with his cheery smile, a sparkling white apron and professional air.

Our specialty is ribs, of many kinds, he said.

So I’ve heard, I responded, and I believe I’ll try the honey mustard ones.

A wise choice, said Janes with a straight face as he echoed a phrase I had used many times. I believe I’ll have the same. And bring us two scotch on the rocks, please.

Away the young man went, and we grinned companionably at each other across the table.

Now, tell me, Janes, I said with an innocent smile, what’s behind all this activity in an old field up on the highway?

He sighed. I knew you couldn’t let it go, Jenny. Nothing is behind anything. A builder is turning that old field into some great new housing…bungalow townhouses, I believe, and a condo. They’ve started to dig the foundations early. The winter’s been so mild, there’s been little ground frost and it’s been underway for a day or two. Then, they discovered this body of a male, and of course, work had to stop. I had only been on the site once when the discovery was first made, and I just wanted to check it out once again before the workers trampled all over the area.

He took a sip of water, and looked quizzically across the small table at me. Does that satisfy you?

And you found nothing?

Nothing. Jenny, let it go. There’s no mystery here. I’m sure we’ll find it was just an early grave, and there’s no one alive now to claim the body.

But…

Nothing, Jenny, he said with a steely note in his voice, and I figured I had pressed far enough. By this time the waiter had reappeared with our order and I concentrated on some very tasty ribs, fluffy potatoes and a medley of vegetables done just crisply enough to be satisfying. We spoke of mundane things for the rest of the meal, and when Janes had settled the bill, returned to the car.

As we pulled out of the small parking lot, Janes looked at me and said, There’s a game on Sunday, if you’re free and want to go. The boys will be there, and they always like having you along.

Of course I wanted to go. I loved watching him play his old-timer hockey. His boys, Jason, at 14 promising to be a replica of his father and Scott, two years younger and chunkier with brown eyes and fair hair, were pleasant and interesting young lads. But Sunday was the day after tomorrow. We had never dated so frequently. However I thought, perhaps distance and the few weeks of separation had given us both a new perspective on our relationship.

Yes, I’d love it, I said, without further thought.

It’s the last game of the season, you see, he said and that explained it all!

We drove the short distance home in companionable silence, and he walked me to the door, stooping to place a gentle kiss on my forehead. See you Sunday…about two o’clock. With that, he turned and got into his car and drove off.

If the ribs had been so good, and the evening so pleasant, why did I have a feeling of something missing? I shook my head, went into the house and called to Patsy to have a last call for the night. She bounded over to me, then raced out the door and around the house into the park adjacent to the row of townhouses. I stopped just outside the door and waited. I knew she wouldn’t go too far, and sure enough, having performed as she usually did, she wheeled around the side of the house, and returned, wriggling happily up to me.

Come on girl, let’s go in and settle down. It was a good evening, but I just want to go to bed right now. Patsy willingly followed me, and within twenty minutes, my little house was silent. Patsy was on her rug in the kitchen, and I was in my bed upstairs, falling asleep almost as soon as my head touched the pillow.

In my small townhouse, which I purchased shortly after moving to Niagara Falls from Toronto, there were not a lot of dust catchers, or nooks and crannies where the vacuum cleaner could not easily reach. I spent Saturday giving a simple ‘lick and a promise’, rationalizing that not too much grime could have accumulated in my absence. So it was an easy day spent making pots of tea and planning my workload for the next week.

I enjoyed my work at the radio station. It provided a lucrative outlet for any creative juices I had, while also enabling me to operate within the community. I had made good friends since moving to the city, primarily ones connected with the media. My co-workers were a happy lot and we truly found pleasure in solving the ever-present problems which dealing with advertisers and sales representatives created. The stresses were shared, and so diminished. As creative director, I was responsible for all the advertising and promotions the radio aired. It could be a worrisome position, but I had excellent staff that never let me down.

So, although I enjoyed my vacation, I nonetheless looked forward to Monday, when I would again be at my desk. In the meantime, there was the hockey game with Janes and his sons to anticipate. I planned what I would wear…something warm, but attractive, I thought, and Sunday at noon I was ready for the outing in a soft woollen jacket of green tweed, green pants, over which I intended wearing a beige fur-trimmed parka. I would ask all three back for hot chocolate and cookies (freshly made). However, fate and a nasty body check intervened.

We had agreed to meet at the arena, and while Janes went and suited up, the boys and I would find a seat. That was not difficult to do because Sunday afternoon old-timer hockey was not high on most people’s list of things to do. Even though it was the playoff game, and the season had been very competitive, the arena was not a third full, so we had a choice, and sat just behind ‘our’ team. Both teams came out and skated around and around, looking, as I mentioned to Scott and Jason, very professional. Janes glanced up, spotted us, and waggled a huge gloved hand in our direction. Finally, the players took their places and the face-off saw one of the forwards on ‘their’ team grab the puck. Away flew the teams chasing after the elusive black object, and in the melee that followed around the net, one of the players on the opposing team body checked Janes and he landed feet first into the boards.

He lay writhing on the ice, and I jumped up, my heart in my mouth. The boys yelled, Dad, dad. The play had stopped and the medic rushed over to Janes who had not gotten up. I watched as they moved him to a sitting position, then helped him off the ice, his left leg never touching the surface. He looked up to where we stood, and gave a sickly smile and a ‘thumbs up’ before they moved him down the aisle toward the dressing room.

Let’s go, boys, I said briskly, and we trailed along into the same aisle and followed the men to the dressing room.

You can’t go in there, Jenny, said Jason. I’ll see what’s wrong with dad.

Nonsense, I said. There’s no one in there dressing, or undressing right now, and I want to see what happened to your father. Scott stood beside me, looking as though he was ready to burst into tears. I put my arm around his shoulder and said, I know he’ll be all right, but we have to make sure. I looked at Jason as I spoke.

The boy shrugged, and in we went, to see Janes lying down, his skates off, his left leg twisted at an awkward angle. It was obvious. The smash into the boards had damaged his ankle. He had to go to the emergency. He looked at his sons and at me, and shook his head.

What a stupid thing to happen, he muttered through clenched teeth. Clearly he was in pain. I took his hand and the boys stood mutely beside him.

I’ll take the boys home later, I said. First of all, you get along to the hospital. He grinned his thanks, tousled Scott’s hair and without further ado, the men hustled him into a car, and left. The boys and I followed in my car.

He was admitted later, of course, and the three of us sat, waiting while Janes went into surgery for a broken ankle. The break was clean, and a cast was put on, but he was to stay in overnight for observation. We peeked in on him as he lay on the hospital bed, looking quite chagrined at himself.

You old boys will be boys, I said heartily, hoping to get a grin out of him. He merely heaved a sigh.

Just take the boys home for me, will you Jenny? I’ll be home sometime tomorrow and it will be OK.

We left him, awaiting the arrival of his dinner and I took the boys to a restaurant for something to eat before dropping them off at their house. Our talk was limited because all our thoughts were back at the hospital. I was happy to see, however, they could both eat (which was more than I could do), and after hamburgers with all the trimmings, they tucked into pie for dessert. They’d be all right, I knew, because since their mother’s death, Janes had drilled them in how to deal with being on their own. His job entailed so much absence, it was second nature to both the young fellows