The River Killers by Bruce Burrows Page A

cabinets, she bent over to pull open the second from the bottom drawer, and I had to avert my eyes. She extracted a file and walked back toward us.
    She smiled and I felt all warm inside. “Trevor Holbrooke. Apartment 237, 892 West 41st Street, Vancouver, BC . He mails us a money order for the moorage fees every month.”
    â€œThanks for the info. My name’s Danny, by the way.”
    â€œMelissa. Melissa O’Rourke. Pleased to meet you.”
    â€œWell, thanks. You’ve been really helpful.” Out of habit, I tried the standard line. “Maybe I could buy you a drink, just to say thank you?” Without looking, I knew that Mark was gazing heavenward.
    â€œThat’s not necessary. I’m always happy to assist DFO in the ongoing performance of their duties.”
    I looked at her for a hint of a smirk, but she had an absolutely straight face. “Well, see ya.”
    She nodded and went back to her desk. When we were outside, I said to Mark, “Pretty cute, eh?”
    â€œYeah, I know her boyfriend.”
    â€œReally?”
    â€œOh yeah, he’s this big Native guy. Used to play lacrosse for the Victoria Shamrocks. Killed a guy in a fight during the ’97 play-offs. No charges, but he’s still got a really bad temper.”
    I bit. “I don’t remember anyone getting killed . . .” I broke off when Mark burst out laughing. “Bastard.”
    â€œGullible twit.”
    We ambled back toward the wharf. “Let’s take the boat downtown. Maybe you can arrange to meet the Glennings and talk prices. I’ve got a couple of errands to run.”
    Five minutes later, we were tied up at the downtown dock. We walked up the floats, past kids fishing, using more sophisticated gear than I’d ever had, but with the same expressions of unquenchable optimism. The odd one even had a fish lying on the wooden planks, vivid colors fading to dull lifelessness. I waited while Mark used the pay phone, and when he hung up, he said he’d meet me back here in an hour. When he was around the corner and out of sight, I headed for the RCMP building. I pondered briefly why I was being so damn surreptitious, but I arrived at the door before I arrived at an answer.
    Inside, I asked for Staff Sergeant Louise Karavchuk, and was told to wait. I perused the WANTED posters on the wall and was pleased to see none of my relatives. Should I point that out to Louise? Maybe not. No need to be completely on the defensive.
    She appeared at the counter and nodded hello. “What can I do for you?”
    â€œCan we talk in private?”
    She glanced behind her and considered a minute. “Let’s take a walk.” She donned a rain jacket, unlatched the gate, and joined me on the public side of the counter. “I’ve been stuck in the office all day. You’re a good excuse to get out.”
    I was thrilled. I’d been upgraded to a good excuse. “I want to apologize again about last night,” I said once we were outside. “I’ve got a lot of suspicions but no evidence. I don’t want to make wild accusations and I guess I wanted to have first crack at the logbook just to see if I could see something that would have been meaningless to an outsider. But I don’t think there’s anything there at all.” I took the book out of my inside pocket and handed it to her. She slipped it into her pocket.
    We walked up the hill, then turned left toward the bighouse. We studied the façade, painted brightly in a Heiltsuk motif. There were forms within forms within forms, and each larger form merged seamlessly with all the others. “Tell me about your suspicions.”
    I took a deep breath. “Alistair might have been involved in something at DFO that was highly illegal. The people he was involved with might have killed him to keep him quiet.”
    â€œAlistair hadn’t worked for DFO for seventeen years. Why kill him