mother had lied to him; hiding her commissions and …’ She sighed. ‘Long story made short, he and his new girlfriend spent every penny. That Thanksgiving he told Sarah that he was pulling her out of med school at the end of the term. He had signed her up for a Medical Secretary course and that was what she was going to do; like it or not. Sarah was devastated.
‘I felt so sorry for her. She had no brothers or sisters; no one. Jan and I spent Christmas with our families. Sarah stayed here, alone, without any money and no food in the house. She deserved better.
‘The university college held a memorial service for Sarah and Davie a week after the accident. Sarah’s dad was there; drunk as a skunk.’ Heather looked at Yakinchuk sharply. ‘Did you know he killed himself that same evening?’
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘Yeah well, so the story goes he killed Sarah’s German shepherd dog Dolly before he … I don’t know whether it’s true or not but we were told that he beat the animal to death with a hammer. How sick is that? Shit! I’m sorry, I …’ Heather dissolved into tears; perhaps the most bitter ones of all – tears of regret.
5
‘Yes Inspector, what can I do for you?’ The Manager of the Fenshaw Hotel shook Yakinchuk’s hand warmly.
‘I would like to ask you a few questions regarding your annual New Year’s Eve Ball.’
‘Certainly, certainly; what do you wish to know?’
‘I would like to see the venue if you don’t mind.’
A few minutes later Yakinchuk was standing in the middle of the Grand Ballroom. Rectangular in shape the huge room glittered, from a dozen crystal chandeliers above to the framed mirrors hung at intervals along the inside wall. At the far end of the room was a raised platform; probably used by the orchestra. The most arresting feature of the room though was the highly polished parquet floor.
‘It’s empty now,’ the Manager said, ‘but on the night there would be round tables dressed with the finest linen, bouquets of flowers and party favours all along here, here and here; the bar would be open of course and our guests would dance at the far end in front of the orchestra.’ His arms swept the room, conjuring up the image in his mind and, he hoped in Yakinchuk’s too. ‘Have you never been Inspector?’
Yakinchuk smiled. ‘Can’t afford it, I’m afraid.’ He walked to the far end of the room. To the left, near the corner was a set of double doors. The Manager followed him.
‘These doors lead to the corridor and the facilities. Come, I’ll show you.’ He held one of the doors open for Yakinchuk. ‘Right, now if you turn left you are back at Reception, straight ahead are the washrooms and beyond those, Conference Rooms. If you keep going around you will end up at the elevators and eventually back at Reception. Like a big circle in a square.’ He chuckled, relishing his little joke.
Yakinchuk inspected first the men’s and then the women’s washrooms, noting in passing the ubiquitous logos for each while the Manager remained in the corridor. When Yakinchuk surfaced the Manager checked his watch. ‘Is there anything in particular you are looking for Inspector?’
‘I will know it when I see it, thank you,’ Yakinchuk replied. He walked further along the corridor. Just before it turned to the left Yakinchuk noticed another door but this time there were no logos; nothing beyond the fact that the door was over-sized.
The Manager appeared somewhat embarrassed. ‘That is meant to be the handicap facility but the doors have not been fitted with the proper devices so that they will open automatically with the touch of a button. We are working on it.’ He cleared his throat. ‘There is a proper facility off the lobby area of course.’
Yakinchuk frowned as he entered through the first door only to find himself in a dead space, caught between the inner and outer doors. To the right was a shelf and a mirror but no sink. Beyond the second door however he found himself in a large open area more befitting the needs of someone in a wheelchair. Everything was as it should be including the over-sized toilet area with its equally over-sized door. He gave this area a cursory glance and was about to leave when he saw it. His heart skipped a beat.
Moments later the Manager was staring at a large metal plate fitted into the wall. Measuring 1.2 meters square it was easily large enough to allow maintenance staff access to the plumbing and heaven knows what else on the other side. ‘I want this opened,’ Yakinchuk demanded. As the Manager began to move away, he added, ‘I’ll need a flashlight too.’
While Yakinchuk waited, scenario after scenario played out in his mind but there was only one that really worked and for that, he would need proof. Ten minutes later the Manager was back with two members of the hotel’s maintenance staff. Yakinchuk was delighted with the array of tools both of them carried in their leather aprons.
‘Stand back mate,’ one of them said, ‘and we’ll have this off in a jiffy.’ Yakinchuk recognized an English accent reminiscent of John Lennon. As he attacked the first screw with an electric screwdriver he asked, ‘I hear you’re a copper; what kind would that be I’m wondering.’
Yakinchuk smiled. ‘I’m a Detective Inspector.’
‘Aye, are you now and what do you inspect detective?’
Yakinchuk couldn’t resist. He leaned forward and whispered in his ear - ‘Homicides mostly.’
‘So, you think we’ve got a stiff in there?’ He looked at Yakinchuk with eyes charged with excitement or was it enthusiasm for this new mission?
‘Maybe,’ Yakinchuk replied.
He turned to the other man. ‘Crikey! Come on Ted, give us a hand.’
Yakinchuk moved back out of the way, determined to ignore the Hotel Manager who was staring at him, open-mouthed. A minute or two later both screwdrivers ground to a halt.
‘Are you having the same trouble I am?’ Ted asked his mate. Both men stood up.
‘What’s the problem?’ Yakinchuk asked.
‘No problem mate,’ the Englishman said as he pulled the panel free of the wall. ‘She was hanging on by just a few screws at the top and none of them were proper.’ He inspected the panel closely. ‘The rest of them are glued in so as to make them look right but they’ve been cut - see.’
Yakinchuk watched as they moved the panel sideways so he could see the edge. He nodded. ‘Let’s see what’s beyond shall we gentlemen.’
Yakinchuk eased himself through the opening and found himself standing, almost, in the hidden world of conduits – plumbing, electrical, telephone – pipes, wires, cables all rushing by in both directions. The air was stale and musty. Yakinchuk reached out for the flashlight offered, switched it on and began to scan the immediate area.
It didn’t take him long to find what he was looking for, and hoping for. He reached out almost reverently and plucked free a sample of fine green netting about the size of a thumbnail from the back corner of the opening. Further along he found half of a pale-green sequin plus several long hairs caught together in the rough cement. In the glare of the light, they appeared golden red. ‘They must have put her here while they closed the panel,’ he thought, allowing his original and best scenario to run its course.
As he continued to search he called out. ‘Gentlemen, I will need some envelopes or a couple of paper towels will do.’
The Englishman stuck his head through the opening. ‘Did you find something?’ he asked, breathless with excitement
Yakinchuk