Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Twenty-Nine

They made the short trip from the remains of Hoodoo House to the Rosebud Inn. Declan and Mrs Cameron rode in the back so that Charlie could give Henry his promised ride in the best seat in the Beast. As Charlie parked the car, Sinclair pulled into the lot beside them. Charlie and the others followed Declan as he led the way into the hotel, where they discovered William-Fergus standing at the front desk. He smiled at Declan.

"Good evening, Mr Hunt and…spouse?"

"You guys are married?" Henry whispered to Charlie.

"Long story," he whispered back.

Charlie stepped in front of Declan and took the lead. William-Fergus was wearing a different name tag.

"Good evening, Finn, is it?" Charlie said.

"Yes sir," William-Fergus-Finn replied. "Would you like rooms for the night?"

"I believe we'll need three this evening. One for Mr Hunt and myself. One for Sinclair Yamada, and another room for Mrs Cameron and Henry if you can manage it."

William-Fergus-Finn looked at the desk log and said, "You're in luck. We can accommodate all of you. We had a cancellation earlier today. Apparently the Ducks Unlimited group had a limited registration for their event, so we have space."

"Excellent," Charlie said. "By the way, Finn, is the dining room closed for the evening?"

"Yes, sir."

"Perfect," Charlie said. "I was wondering if we could use the space to have a bit of a meeting?"

"I think I can arrange that for you."

Declan turned to Charlie with a puzzled look on his face. Charlie smiled and said, "It will all make sense before the night is through."

Once William-Fergus-Finn had checked in the guests, Charlie turned to the others. "If it's all right with everyone, I'd like to meet in the dining room at nine tonight. I have some information I need to share before anyone talks to the police."

Charlie was met with curious looks, but nobody said anything. They simply nodded and headed off to their rooms.

Declan and Charlie's accommodation was the last to be assigned.

"I hope you don't mind, but I've given you the Honeymoon Suite again."

Charlie and Declan looked at each other and smiled. "That would be perfect," Charlie replied. "Thank you."

Declan headed to the stairs, but Charlie stayed behind. He beckoned to William-Fergus-Finn.

"Yes, sir?"

"I'm just curious," Charlie said, pointing at the desk-clerk's badge. "None of those names are yours, are they?"

"No, sir, they are not," he answered, but didn't offer up his real name.

Charlie smiled. Some mysteries were meant to remain unsolved.

He made his way up to the suite where he found the door propped open with a shoe. Charlie entered to find Declan sitting on the couch.

"Where have you been?" Declan asked.

"Trying to solve a mystery."

"What a certain young man's name is?"

"How…?"

"A very top-secret detective trick. It's called eavesdropping from around the corner."

"I see," Charlie said as he plopped himself down beside him.

"So, what secrets do you plan on revealing to us tonight?" Declan asked.

"By ‘us' do you mean the Hoodoo House gang when we meet in the dining room, or ‘us', as in you and me when we get back up here later?"

"Why do I feel like the latter of those two is going to be far more rewarding?" Declan asked.

"Well, you'll have to wait to see. I don't want to say anything to you until I confirm a few things. It's important I get this right."

"From the devilish grin on your face, I will look forward to both."

"Good," Charlie replied. "Now why don't you go tend to your wounds and leave me alone for a bit while I review my notes."

Declan leaned down and planted a kiss on Charlie's lips, then went into the bathroom.

Charlie spent the next half hour reading his notes and reviewing the photos he had taken on his phone. At just before nine, he called out, "We should get heading down."

They made their way to the dining room and found that a few of the tables had been pushed together to make one larger table. Sinclair, Mrs Cameron and Henry were already there.

A waiter approached. He was William again.

"Good evening, folks. The kitchen is closed, but would you care for any water or drinks while you're having your meeting?"

"I think with the day we've had, a drink would be in order," Sinclair said. "And we'll bill everything to the publisher while we still can. I'll have a double scotch."

"Make that two," Declan said.

"I'll have what they're having," Henry said.

Mrs Cameron intervened. "Make Henry's scotch a warm milk, if you wouldn't mind. And I'll have a sherry."

Charlie ordered a beer.

Once William had dropped off the drinks, Charlie took a sip from his bottle then began. "A lot's happened over the past twenty-four hours and I think it's important that you have all of the details of this case before anyone takes any drastic actions"—he looked at Henry—"like reporting themselves to the police. I have a few questions I'd like to ask.

"Sinclair, I'll start with you. Do you remember the argument you had with Malcolm Tull the night before he died?"

"I do," Sinclair replied, then took a long sip of his drink.

"Do you remember if Mr Tull had been drinking when you last met?"

"Yes. He wasn't falling down drunk, but he was slurring his words a bit."

"Can you remember anything else about him? Anything physical that was…out of the ordinary?"

Sinclair paused. "He seemed red in the face and in the neck. Sort of…puffy," he said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Did you see any bruising on his neck? Because I recall when we first met, you said the police had noted bruises when they found the body."

"I can't remember precisely, but it is possible. I'd heard through the grapevine," Sinclair continued, "that Malcolm sometimes got involved in rough play with his…friends."

"Do you think the rumours are true?" Charlie asked.

Sinclair stared into Charlie's eyes. "I can guarantee it."

Charlie nodded. "Just one more thing. Do you remember if Mr Tull had any tattoos?"

Sinclair paused before saying, "Why would you ask me?"

"You worked closely with him. I just thought you might notice if he had a tattoo, perhaps on his arm?"

Sinclair squirmed in his seat. "He did have a spider tattoo. I believe it was on his left forearm, but he usually kept it covered with a long-sleeved shirt. But I don't see what that has to do with anything."

"It has to do with something I discovered when looking at some video evidence."

The blood drained from Sinclair's face, but he said nothing.

Charlie turned towards the other end of the table. "Mrs Cameron—do you remember seeing anyone around the house other than Mr Yamada around the time of Malcolm's death?"

She paused. "Bikers. The day before Mr Tull's body was found, I remember seeing a Harley by the side of the house. I never saw the owner, but I knew it was one of his…visitors. And I remember a young man on a motorbike. Not a loud motorbike like the others. It was quieter. That fellow came by on the day they removed Mr Tull's body."

"Was that man the one who burned down the house tonight?"

"It was not. It was someone much smaller in size. I chased him off the property with my rolling pin."

Cody White, Charlie thought.

"I remember him," Henry said. "He was nice."

Charlie continued, "I think I know who that person is and I've interviewed him. Now, I have one more question, and this one's for Henry."

Henry went pale. He set down his milk. Mrs Cameron reached over and held his hand.

"This is important, Henry. Do you remember how many pills you crushed up and put in Mr Tull's drink?"

Henry started fussing with his hands. He looked at Mrs Cameron, then glanced at Declan before returning his gaze to Charlie.

"I crushed up…three pills," he said, slowly. "I couldn't put in too many, ‘cause I thought he'd feel the grit in the drink and he wouldn't drink it." Henry looked down. "I had to stop him."

"Thank you, Henry," Charlie said. "Being honest is sometimes hard, and you have to be very brave to tell the truth.

"Now," Charlie continued, "Declan and I visited the RCMP office this afternoon. We managed to have a quick look at Malcolm Tull's file and I got a good look at the coroner's report. It listed the cause of Malcolm Tull's death…and it wasn't due to an overdose of primidone."

Declan looked at him in surprise. Charlie began to think that not filling Declan in ahead of time might have been a mistake.

Mrs Cameron grabbed Henry and gave him a hug. The teen stared at Charlie in disbelief.

"Then, if Henry didn't kill him, who or what did?" Sinclair asked.

"Ultimately, the coroner ruled that Malcolm Tull died as a result of aspiration. He choked to death on his own vomit."

"What?" Sinclair said. "That's such a stupid way to go. What an idiot!"

Charlie continued. "The coroner noted that Mr Tull had bruising on his neck. I believe it had to do with the visitor Mr Tull had on the afternoon before he died—Adolph Moses. He'd come by for a sexual encounter, one that involved choking play. I found a video on the computer that seems to confirm this. The choking may have resulted in the bruising the police report noted. The coroner also indicated that Mr Tull's throat was swollen, causing a narrowing of his windpipe—not enough to stop him breathing, but enough to make his throat tighter than usual.

"On the night that you, Sinclair, had the fight with Mr Tull, he had already been drinking. The coroner's report identified a high level of alcohol in his bloodstream. The alcohol in the kumis he drank at bedtime might have added to that, although not by much."

Mrs Cameron frowned. "But what does this all mean?"

"I'm getting to that. Now—the primidone. The police had originally looked into the possibility of his death being a suicide, since they found his pill bottle on the desk. The coroner noted that there was an increased level of primidone in his system, but the levels were too low to be the cause of his death. Apparently, even though the kumis Mr Tull consumed that night had extra primidone in it, which we now know was added by Henry, it was not a lethal dose. The extra primidone would have just made him very sleepy."

Henry shook his head, "So I didn't kill Mr Tull?"

Charlie continued, "Ultimately, the combination of alcohol and pills caused Malcolm Tull to vomit. Due to the swelling in his throat, he choked, and by sheer chance, inhaled enough vomit to cause his death. Although there were some questions about the origin of the bruising, according to the report I saw, the police are planning on ruling the death accidental."

There were mumbles of disbelief from everyone in the room. Declan reached under the table and grasped Charlie's hand. He looked at Charlie and said, "Great work. Beautiful summary."

Charlie felt a huge weight lift off of his chest.

"But I still gave him the pills," Henry said. "He might not have thrown up if I hadn't given him the pills. I did something horrible." Henry bent over in tears.

"Henry," Charlie said, "there were many factors at play. He might have still thrown up without the pills, and he might still have died." Charlie paused, unsure what else to say.

Declan looked around the table, then asked Henry, "Do you feel badly for what you did?"

Henry looked up. "Yes," he squeaked out. "It's a sin to hurt someone. I'm going to go to hell and burn."

"Did you do what you did because you were concerned about your gramma?"

Henry rubbed his nose on his sleeve. "Yeah."

"And when Momrath was on fire—and this was a person who had attacked you—didn't you risk your own life to save his?"

Henry remained silent, but nodded.

"Where's this all going?" Mrs Cameron asked.

Declan replied, "The police have no evidence that would lead them to believe that Henry was involved. Ultimately it will be up to them, but outside of this room, nobody else knows about the pills Henry put into the drink, and we know it wasn't enough to kill Mr Tull. Under any other circumstances, the only thing that would have happened is Mr Tull would have had a deeper night's sleep."

"If anyone was going to be implicated in Mr Tull's death based on what the police have," Charlie added, "it would be somebody else."

"What do you mean?" Sinclair asked.

"I made copies of some significant files from Mr Tull's laptop before it was stolen—files that included the video I mentioned of Mr Tull in an interaction with Adolph Moses where they were involved in choking play. If the police were to receive a copy of that file from an anonymous source…"

"But he didn't kill Mr Tull," Henry said. "It'd be wrong to say he did!"

"Yes, it would, Henry," Declan said. "But he is a wanted criminal, and he will be charged with the attack on you and the burning down of Hoodoo House. The video wouldn't be enough to charge him with being responsible for Mr Tull's death, but without any other proof, there would be no need to investigate any further."

Henry nodded his head.

"So…a lot of secrets have come out tonight," Declan said. "And a lot of them have caused harm, but some don't have to. Tonight we all have to decide if we want to keep everything we've learned here a secret, or not?"

The group sat in silence. Sinclair and Mrs Cameron both finished off their drinks. Henry looked around nervously from face to face.

"I'm not so sure about this," Sinclair said.

Charlie looked directly at him. "Keep in mind, Sinclair, that among the files we took off the computer, we found the missing manuscript, which we're happy to turn over to you, but we also kept one other file of a more…personal nature. And it would perhaps be better if that file never found its way into the wrong hands."

Sinclair paused for only a second before saying, "I think, for the boy's sake, we should keep the secret."

"Mrs Cameron?" Charlie asked.

Henry looked up at her.

"I think both Henry and I can keep this secret. Isn't that right, Henry?"

Henry nodded.

Declan stood and said, "So we all agree. When we talk to the police tomorrow, there will be no mention of Mr Tull's death, other than what they already know."

Everyone nodded in agreement. Mr Yamada, Mrs Cameron and Henry got up from the table and left the dining room.

Declan looked at Charlie and said, "You did good."

"So why don't I feel better about this?"

Declan shrugged. "Keeping secrets. It's part of the job. Ultimately we do what we do for the greater good. Now let's finish our drinks and go upstairs."

* * * *

Charlie and Declan made their way to their room on the top floor. Charlie flopped on the couch, exhausted. The meeting had taken more out of him than he'd expected.

"You did well down there, you know," Declan said, sitting beside him and patting him on the knee.

"I felt like I was coming across a bit like Miss Marple."

"You were. And there's nothing wrong with that?" Declan replied. "Look at how successful she was."

"Funny."

Charlie slid over and rested his back against Declan's shoulder. He tilted his head and stared up at the ceiling in silence.

"What's wrong?" Declan asked.

"Did we do the right thing? With Henry, I mean."

"In what way?"

Charlie turned around to face him.

"He confessed to trying to kill someone."

"There was no way he would have killed Tull with that dosage. You said it yourself."

"But the intention was there," Charlie continued.

"Look, he showed remorse for what he did. He's young and didn't think things through. Didn't you ever do something stupid when you were a kid that you regretted later?"

"I got caught shoplifting when I was his age and I got grounded for a month. But stealing a chocolate bar is a far cry from trying to kill someone."

Charlie got up and looked out through the window. "What would happen to Henry if the police found out he was involved?"

Declan shrugged. "He'd probably wind up being referred to therapy and possibly could see some charges laid against him. There's a chance he would be assigned to a youth detention facility. The court could deem Mrs Cameron as being incapable of caring for him, given what's happened under her watch. On the whole, I think it's likely the system would do him more harm than good."

"He's a bright kid," Charlie said. "I wish there's a way we could help him. I mean, he's going to have to carry that secret for the rest of his life."

Declan stood up. "I have a thought. How about I give Michael a call? She might be able to talk him through his problems, or at least know someone who can."

Charlie nodded. "Yeah."

Declan tilted his head. "There's still something else bothering you."

"Keeping secrets is hard."

Declan joined Charlie at the window.

"Yup," Declan agreed. "It can be, and if you've got a conscience—which you do—you'll always feel that way about some secrets."

"Why does everything have to be so difficult?" Charlie groaned.

"Keep in mind that if you really want to get into this work, you've got to accept that keeping secrets is part of this business."

"I know," Charlie said.

Charlie faced Declan. "And what about us?"

"Us? I've been giving that some thought."

"And?" Charlie asked.

"I'm definitely going to keep you on at the office. Your work on this case was so good that, if you're up to it, I was thinking that the firm could put some resources into getting you your P.I. license."

Charlie's pulse quickened. "Are you kidding? You mean it? We could do that?"

"I think we'd be crazy not to," Declan replied.

"But, wait a minute. That's…that's not what I meant. When I asked about us, I meant…you know…us," he said.

The edges of Declan's mouth curled into a slight smile. "You know what you'd be letting yourself in for? I'm not the most stable guy around."

Charlie shrugged. "I'd be willing to try."

"We could maybe take it slow," Declan said, putting his arms around Charlie.

"That would be nice."

"Spend a few more nights together?" Declan said as he kissed Charlie's neck.

"Mm-hmm."

"And see how that feels?" Declan whispered as he nibbled Charlie's ear.

"That feels right." Charlie sighed.

Declan picked Charlie up in his arms, and said, "What do you say we put that king bed to good use?"

"I thought you'd never ask."