Final Act by Dianne Yetman (best free ebook reader .TXT) 📕

a focused young woman and would not have done anything to jeopardize her career.”

“When you finished dinner, did you drive her home?”

“No,” he said.  “She brought her own car. We walked out of the restaurant together, said goodnight, and headed for our own cars.”

“Did you see her get into her car and drive away?”

“Yes, I stood and watched to make sure she reached it safely.”

“Did she speak to anyone on the way?”

“No, she didn’t speak as in a conversation but I saw her wave and shout hello to someone across the street from the theatre who was just getting into a cab.”

“Was it someone you knew?  Did you get a good look at this person?”

“No, it was no one I knew, the person was too far away. Camira waved, said hello and not getting any response, walked to her car and drove away.”

“Had you noticed this person before Camira waved?”

“Yes, crossing the street.”

“In front of the theatre?”

“No, not in front.  The person came out of the alleyway next to the theatre.”

Kate scribbled furiously.

“Look, I came in to tell you Camira didn’t kill herself. Whatever happened, it wasn’t suicide.  That’s all I have to say.”

Kate reassured him the information he had travelled so far to give them was appreciated and would help them in this case. She asked him to give his contact information and statement to one of the constables.  He agreed and left the small room a few minutes later following Shirley Proctor.

Kate buzzed Gordon’s office and asked if they could meet.  He’d see her in ten minutes which gave her just enough time to round up Roger who was in the incident room doing background research on the poison that killed Jeffrey Stone.

Seven minutes later, the two detectives sat in front of their boss’s desk.

“So, he flew all the way from Toronto to tell us.  Well, well, well.  Lends a bit of credibility to his conviction it wasn’t suicide”, Gordon said. “The mysterious person getting into a cab sounds promising.  Follow up with the cab companies.”

“We’ve already been in touch”, Kate said.  “Nothing turned up yet but the drivers work in shifts.  The companies are going to contact us once everyone’s been canvassed.”

“Good.  Maybe we can wrap this one up quickly.  Okay, moving on.  I have a report to share with you.”

He passed them Shirley’s report on her interview with security at the apartment building in Bedford. Roger and Kate, heads as close as wool to knitting needles, studied the report.

Kate spoke first.

“The person in the elevator, wearing the dark, shapeless coat could be our killer.  Matches the description the security guard gave of the person getting into the cab.”

“Seems likely doesn’t it”, Gordon said.  “Okay, I’m off to brief the Chief, you two can pass the info along to the rest of the team.”

“I’m off to brief the Chief; you two brief the rest of the team.”

Kate waited until they were back in their office before sharing with Roger that Hanya had called her early this morning requesting a meeting.

“Gordon has assigned Shirley to interview her and clearly doesn’t want me involved – conflict of interest.  Anyway, I told Hanya I’d meet her tomorrow morning so I may be a bit late arriving.  Cover for me will you?”

Roger nodded.  “Now, Kate, let’s talk about how we’re going to proceed with the list of companies who have hydrogen cyanide on their premises.”

He passed her the sheet and Kate groaned.  Six companies, three each, back to the precinct to write up findings, they wouldn’t be getting an early night’s sleep.

Chapter 7

Kate kicked off her shoes pleased to be home earlier than she thought.  Four of the companies no longer processed the hydrogen cyanide, of the other two, only one had its in the form that was used in the bottle of bourbon – Donald Sutton’s firm.

Too tired to cook, she decided to order in Chinese and watch a black and white movie from her 1950’s collection.  She was heading for the den when the smell of food wafted down the hallway from the kitchen.  Who the hell was cooking in her kitchen?  Her brothers had a key but it would be a stretch to think it was one of them.  Only one other had a key.  David.

He stood by the stove; a huge grin on his face.

“Hello.  Hope you’re hungry.  I’ve cooked your favourite meal.”

She did her best to hide her disappointment however she wasn’t about to hide her displeasure that he showed up unannounced.

“What are you doing here?  Some advance notice, a phone call, would have been nice.  I’m on a case, you were lucky to find me home.”

A wounded look sat square centre in his face.  “I guess I should have called – I’d hoped we were past the formality stage.”

Guilty pitch; I’m the bitch.

“Look David, our telephone conversation ended on a sour note so let’s not start another one.  I’m exhausted; we’ve had two murders in four days; it’s not a good time to discuss what stage our relationship is in.”

“Right, sorry, have a seat, while I pour us a glass of wine.  Come on sit, I know where the wine glasses are.”

Kate decided to sit and the food did smell inviting.

“So what did you cook?”

“In the skillet are sautéed peppers, onions, garlic, celery and chicken.  Cooking in the pot is pasta Fedelini, also known as faithful little ones.   Warming in the oven is mozzarella basil bread, and here, in my hand, is your favourite Chardonnay chilled the way you like it.”

She took a long drink.  “The food smells delicious but you were taking a chance. I might not have made it home this early.”

“I chose something that still tastes half decent after reheating. And as for me, the thoughts of you arriving home, late or not, kept me fresh.  Come here.”

Two hours later, they were in bed, bodies cooling, wine glasses, half full, on the nightstands.  Kate, bone tired, rolled over and was asleep in minutes.  She woke to the smell of