(2012) Cross-Border Murder by David Waters Read Free Book Online Page A

become personally involved in this,” he chuckled, “sounds to me, like that young lady’s got you wrapped around her little finger.”
    “No, it’s my sense of honor that’s at stake.” I felt slightly silly and just a little pompous saying it.
    “Haven’t heard you use a word like that in a long time.” It didn’t seem to surprise him. He gave me Jim Haylocke’s office and home telephone numbers. “Tell him to call me to confirm the assignment. We’ll pay costs so long as they’re within reason. If they aren’t I’ll get back to you. Sounds like there may be a good story in this after all.”
    “I hope so.” I didn’t mention the deal I had made with Joe Gibbs. Mel had a high blood pressure condition which I certainly didn’t want to aggravate. I phoned the two numbers and left messages on both answering machines. Then I phoned Phil Ryan. I left a message on his machine as well. He was the first to return my call.
    “I got the tickets for the ball game Friday night. Three of them. You’re still planning to bring the young woman?”
    “Yep.”
    “Does she know anything about baseball?”
    “I don’t know.”
    There was a silence. “We’re going to be watching a pennant winner. I hope she’s not one of those catty females who will be constantly asking depressing questions about young millionaires running around in funny uniforms.”
    I grinned. “I’ll speak to her.”
    “Good.”
    “Phil, I phoned to ask you another favor.”
    “What?
    “Is there any way you could get the old police file out on the Montini case?”
    There was a long pause. “Maybe. She really has you convinced that we arrested the wrong guy, hasn’t she?”
    I explained that I had begun to interview many of the same people who had been questioned back then. I wanted to be able to compare what they had said then, with what they were telling me now. “I’m not planning to discuss the file with Montini’s daughter, I just want to compare notes with you, not memories, but specific details. It may not help, but then it may make all the difference in the world.”
    He grunted. I pressed on, “there may still be a murderer out there. I don’t mind doing the leg work. But you may spot things that I would miss, particularly if our minds were refreshed by going over the old file.”
    “Okay, I’ll see what I can do. I’ll get back to you one way or the other. Then we can decide where to meet before the game. By the way if I get the file out, you’ll owe me another favor.”
    “I know. I’m still working on the first one.”
    “No rush. So long as I get an answer before I go bald and lose all my teeth.”
    “Oh, I’ll have it before then,” I mumbled.
    After I had hung up I thought about his image of competitive millionaires running around a field in funny uniforms all paid for by the likes of him and me. My love for the sport had been taken down a peg towards alienation. But who was I to judge? Baseball players and Gina’s new found friend sold their bodies and skills to the highest bidder. I sold my skills and mind so that absentee owners of a newspaper could become billionaires. Is one form of selling more honorable than another? Probably, but I had earned no right to construct a moral ladder of virtue.
    I glanced at my watch. I would not have time for supper until much later. It was time to go. I wanted a chance to confront Ms. Bronson before anyone else spoke to her. And I wanted to do it alone, without Gina. I parked my car a few tenements down from where Ms Naomi Bronson lived on Panet St. Her flat was on the second floor of a three floor tenement located in the heart of what was now known as the “gay” village.
    The area had once been working class, the flats rented by the employees of a nearby brewery and slightly further away a sugar refinery. But some of the land had been leveled for the French headquarters and production facilities of the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. Later the provincial