Free Murder in a Cold Climate: An Inspector Matteesie Mystery by Scott Young

thick with the two guys Johns flew out of here. In fact, if they were making a run for it with their bankroll as Edmonton tells us, I was surprised that William wasn’t with them. Hours after they flew out we got word that would have had us pick four of them up. But of course they actually left two guys behind, at least so far. So we held off.”
    â€œLeft behind William and who else, Jules Bonner?”
    He winced. “Jesus. How’d you know about that poisonous little bastard?”
    I told him about Bonner being sent by William to look after Gloria the night Morton was stricken, and being in the airport making phone calls the day I left. I knew they might have been nothing, might have been to a girl friend or somebody not connected at all to the rest. But somebody had had to line up a hit man, even if only on spec, and later let him know what flight to do it on. I wondered if the phone company could help. Didn’t think so, with a pay phone, but worth a try.
    There was something else I wanted to think about further. I’m not usually secretive, even about theories, when I’m dealing with someone who might need only a shred of fact or fancy to fit into other facts or fancies and get nearer to an answer, but for now I’d gone about as far as I wanted to go.
    â€œYou got any theories about the murder?” I asked.
    Ted shook his head. “Morton had enemies, of course, people who think he sold out on land claims here and there, or others who think he’s been too inflexible. But as far as we know they’re only people who go to meetings and argue. Not dangerous. As far as I can gather there was nothing he’d done to anybody that would get a professional hit man sent in from somewhere.” He paused. “Well, and there’s this. Women liked him. That’s one thing we’re following up, looking for jealous husbands or whatever. There’d been stories about this conference or that, people with a lot in common being together for several days, doing a little drinking at nights. Things do happen, like people getting so friendly they go to bed together.”
    â€œIt’s got a lot of ragged edges,” I agreed, rather redundantly.
    But women? I knew the reputation. Handsome widower, well known, popular issues, I’d seen him surrounded by some pretty good looking women around the Chateau Laurier at Ottawa conferences I’ve been at. I suppose some people would think that he was a womanizer. Either that, or a lot of the women he ran into were manizers, if that’s a word, and it probably should be.
    I didn’t mention Gloria yet. If anybody was going to question her seriously, I wanted it to be me.
    Ted shrugged and picked up what he’d been saying. “But that’s just guessing. Until we come up with a motive, what we seem to have is a murder, period, plus a coincidence that some drug dealers his son had been thick with have gone off without taking the son along, maybe even doing him out of his split. Maybe William was being double-crossed, maybe Jules Bonner was, too, but how is that going to get his father killed?”
    At that point, looking thoughtful, he picked up a pencil and made a note. I couldn’t read it.
    We sat for another minute or two. I was thinking again about Bonner and his phone calls from the airport. The only other key I could think of was William Cavendish.
    â€œI take it you’re fairly sure that the guys who flew out had their bankroll with them?” I asked.
    â€œI don’t know what else they’d do. We know a deal was made. We knew the money came in and the drugs went out.”
    That line surprised me. Drugs going out? Before I could ask, Ted gave the answer.
    â€œUnfortunately we didn’t know how it was being done until it was done. The tip actually came from Texas, if you can believe it. We’ve got some of our people in the US now, as you probably know, working with the US Drug