Murder On The Mainline - S01 E21

Story 3 days ago

Murder On The Mainline - S01 E21

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 21

At Sicamous Husky Station and Truckstop he pulls in for breakfast. Traffic is picking up so he tries to rush Trudy along, but she's like a mule. She goes faster if you leave her alone. He should know this by now, he figures.

When they're back on the highway, he finds himself wondering about Nina and what she's doing this morning. He wishes he could call home but he's still not sure about a bug on his phone. He thinks it highly unlikely, but all the same, not worth the chance. Trudy breaks into his thoughts with, "What you pondering on? They'll survive without you for a day or two."

"Imp, your psychic, I swear you are."

"Want to know about your suspects?"

"Sure. What'd you get?

"Well, you know the Realtor, Mr. Hairyman, Harrington, no Harrison. He and his wife are swingers." She grins. "Just like you and Jeff, I guess. Only they do it with lots of couples." She looks thoughtful for a moment and murmurs, "You have three women your screwing. I guess you could be a swinger. Swinger Mike. I like that. That's what I'll call you."

"Don't you dare!"

"Swinger Mike. Swinger Mike. Are you there, Swinger Mike?" She laughs and Mike tries not to pay any attention to her.

"Do they know about me?"

"No."

"So I'm your secret sweetheart, am I?"

"You were telling me about the suspects."

"I could be your secret mistress. We could have a ceremony where we are wed as Master and Mistress. How quaint. Would you take me to be your awfully wedded mistress, Mike? Then if I didn't obey you, you could beat me and make me carry buckets, oaken buckets of water up the hill to our secret cabin in the mountains." She breaks into song. "Wouldn't it be love-ely, love-ely, love-ely?"

"Love-ely?"

"You know what I mean."

"It disturbs me, but I think I do."

"Anyway they live in Port Coquitlam. I have the address here somewhere. They love to swing. And the night of the murder they were swinging with a very prominent couple in our government circles who are not married and shall remain anonymous for now, in the Harrison Motel at Harrison Hot Springs. They were there all night and I bet even the police won't get that date out of them."

"How did you find that out? I don't think I really want to know. How reliable is your informant?"

"Very."

"On a scale of one to ten."

"Eleven."

"What do they do for an encore?"

She shrugs, "Royalty, I suppose."

They both break up laughing. They swing around the lake at Three Valley Gap and along the sheer overhanging cliffs then cross the bridge heading for Revelstoke. Trudy tips the jug of cider up on her shoulder and tries to take a sip. It runs down the front of her and she laughs as Mike shakes his head. "Never do to take you into a civilized part of town."

She giggles and chokes on the cider. Hacking and coughing, she tries to pour him a cup. Mike gets snickering and finally laughing as she does it.

"There." She proudly hands him the cup. "I plan on you licking that cider off my teats later, you know. And I don't want to be sticky all day, hint, hint."

Mike drinks the cider and watches traffic. They pull into Revelstoke and start the climb into Glacier Park. They climb through the park and over Rogers Pass then across the time change line and down to the Columbia River. At ten fifteen Mike pulls into the yard at the Husky in Golden. "Lunch time. Let's go."

"I can't go in like this."

"You'll find a jug of water in the sleeper. Clean up and come on in." He opens the door. She pouts and goes behind the curtain. Mike peeks behind the curtain where she is washing her chest. She grins at him and dries on his towel then pulls another top out of her bag. They go inside for a bite of early lunch.

After lunch when they're back on the road for Calgary, Mike asks, "Did you get an address for the Harrison’s?"

"Yep. Let me dig out my paperwork." She reaches back into the sleeper and kneels beside him on the console. "Ronald and Rita Harrison, 361 Larkin Ave., it's out near Glen Park and the Coquitlam Center in POCO. Nice houses in that area. He must be a fairly successful Realtor or else his wife has a topnotch job. It's quiet but close to all the amenities."

"I don't suppose you have any idea why his name would be in Flo's address book?"

"I've been thinking about that. Of course there are many ways, but most logical was they met at a private party or hired her to appear at some private due. They may have just hired her as a third party for a threesome. You plan to interview them? I'd like to come along. Kinky people interest me."

"That why you hang out with me?"

"Of course." They laugh.

"When we get back I just may ask you to accompany me on some interviews. I have to get to work on this case quickly now that the police are raising so many obstacles. Can I get a copy of your schedule?"

"I'll get it for you when we get back."

"How did you make out with Vanuetche and Scanlon?"

"Got addresses and some dirt on both." She looks at her paperwork. "Anton Vanuetche, called Tony by most friends, lives alone in his deceased mother's house. It's not transferred to him yet; it's at 787 Wilson Ave., its down near the west end and backs on the river and Reeve Street Park. It's an older part of town with small older bungalows. You know he's involved with drug trafficking, eh?"

"Tony?"

"I don't know to what extent, but he has many nighttime visitors and often stops in Vancouver in the Vietnamese drug gangs' territory when he's supposed to be making deliveries for CPX."

"Are you sure?"

“Yep.”

"How do you find something like that about a person?"

"My secret. You would have found it out on your own, given time. I know you've been busy; two women almost next door to each other. It's a wonder you can keep up?"

"That isn't all I do."

"You got more of them?"

"Oh shush. You know what I mean."

They have passed Field and are nearing Lake Louise. Trudy goes on, "Scanlon. Now that was the tough one. You know he maintains about three different addresses. As near as I can figure he keeps women at those addresses for hire. His stable of call girls. He may appear to be a cab driver to you, but in reality he's a pimp.

"Suppose they had a falling out? Maybe she wasn't telling him about some of her tricks or she was telling the other girls they didn't need him. In general causing trouble in the crib. Do you think he would resort to murder? What's his sexual preference?"

"Definitely hetro."

"Anything kinky?"

"He's a pimp! What more do you want?"

"Why would he go to such lengths to make it appear a sex crime if he's involved in the sex trade? To warn the other girls? It doesn't make sense. The finger of suspicion would point right at him. Still, if he didn't mean to kill her, only scare her, hmmmm."

"I don't think she was slavish enough to him to go with him to the crime scene. Of course I don't know what their relationship was like. We're going to have to talk to his girls, eh?"

"Definitely. I suppose the police already have. I didn't see it in any reports, though."

They roll into Calgary around one thirty PM and Mike drops the trailers. He checks with dispatch and they have a train going north to Edmonton for him. He gets the bills, checks out the trailers and fuels up. When he talks to Toronto they tell him he has a longbox in Edmonton that's going to Vanderhoof. Since he doesn't have a swamper with him, he's to drop it in Prince George. A local driver will deliver it from there. If they have anything for the coast in Prince George he can head home, but at the present time there is nothing for him going south. It looks like he might have to bob tail back to Sicamous for the longbox waiting there. They head out of Calgary towards Red Deer on number two. It’s flat and lots of lanes. They're soon flying along.