419 by Will Ferguson Read Free Book Online Page A

17
     
     
The following Monday, the police seized Laura's parents' computer.
     
After the fallout from the bank, her mom had made the mistake of contacting Sergeant Brisebois, thinking he was on their side. He was on no one's side; he was in the business of turning question marks into full stops, of explaining away discrepancies, of teasing out the hidden meanings in the seemingly innocuous and the apparently inconsequential. So when Mrs. Curtis called him, distraught, saying someone had stolen their life's savings, his obligations were not to her but to the larger narrative.
     
With Mrs. Curtis's approval, the bank had released her late husband's financial statements to the police, along with a list of transactions spanning the last six months. The balance in their chequing account had barely wavered. But their savings?
     
Withdrawal after withdrawal, some in the hundreds of dollars, some in the thousands—money, bleeding away—followed by a final flurry of paperwork for a line of credit against home equity.
     
The investigation had grown to include the possibility of financial crimes, insurance fraud, and possibly extortion.
     
—Shall I stay on then? As family liaison?
     
— That's the plan. Call Lloyd at the Crown Prosecutor's office, get his advice. You'll want a standard warrant for the house and a production order for the hard drive.—The widow's being cooperative.—Get the warrants anyway. I've had sweet-smiling seniors suddenly get cold feet and withdraw their cooperation. What starts as a consensual search suddenly becomes a standoff, and next thing you know, you've got a suspect who's pissing backward, the arrest is tossed on a technicality, and the whole case has gone south.
     
— Understood. I'll contact the Crown right away.—Sounds good. Keep me posted.
     
And so it was, on the Chief Inspectors directives, that Sergeant Matthew Brisebois arrived at the Curtis home at 9:34 A.M. on Monday, accompanied by a district officer and two members of the Tech Unit.
     
Warren arrived soon after and was already in high dudgeon by the time Laura showed up. How does he get all the way in from the burbs before I can even walk down a hill?
     
"You don't have to give them the computer," Warren was telling his mom. "This is bullshit." Warren had a mouthful of beef jerky that he chewed like it was a wad of tobacco.
     
Who eats beef jerky for breakfast? There were days Laura forgot to eat entirely, but her brother had never had that problem. He was always chewing on something.
     
     
As the IT officers removed the hard drive and placed it into a protective carry case, Brisebois sat beside Mrs. Curtis, speaking softly, sipping tea.
     
"Matthew," she began, a waver running through her voice,
     
"will this help us find out what happened? Will this help us find out who stole our money?"
     
"That's what we're hoping, Helen." She would have handed the computer over, even without a court-ordered warrant.
     
Laura had arrived still smelling of chlorine from her swim. She ignored Brisebois, asked her mom, "What are they looking for?"
     
"Kiddie porn and terrorist training manuals," said Warren with a snort. "These cops have got fuckin' blinders on. They think Dad was some sort of master criminal. Meanwhile, whoever drove him off the road is running free and laughing."
     
—Is the wife a suspect?—The wife is always a suspect.—But did she do it?—No.—How about the son? The daughter?
     
The officer with the pale eyes looked at Laura, the woman from the tower window.
     
—The son? No. The daughter? She does seem... strangely removed from the situation.
     
"Your father was sending a lot of money to people outside the country. Any idea why?"
     
"Dad never travelled," said Laura. "Who would he know?"
     
"We were going to travel," said her mom, jumping in to defend Henry. "Around the world and back again, it's what your father always said. The house was paid off, we had our pensions and some savings,