Voted Out Read online

  Liliane exchanged a glance with Damien who narrowed his eyes at her. The gambling loser looked oblivious to Thomas’ death.

  “You know what, Leonard, forget about the deal Damien just offered you.” The situation had flushed her last ounce of patience. If only it would also melt my extra pounds. “You’re coming with us to the office. We’ll settle this once and for all.”

  The man leapt to his feet, smirking. “It’ll be fun to watch Thomas fire you.”

  “If you say so.” By the time Jasper is finished with you, Leonard, the red heart smileys on your boxers will shed tears—and you’ll beg Damien to reiterate his offer.

  Whether Liliane was willing to work with Leonard or not was something she would debate with Damien after they delivered the gambler to Jasper.

  Chapter Eight

  ~If nothing goes right, go left.~

  Detective O’Neil stood in the lobby thanking Gloria when Liliane entered the election office accompanied by Damien and Leonard.

  “Detective O’Neil, this is Leonard Hassler, the assistant returning officer.” Liliane gestured toward the man on her left. “He and Thomas had coffee together this morning at 5:00. I thought you might want to chat with him.”

  Something akin to astonishment swirled in Jasper’s eyes. “Really? Well, I’d like to know more about your morning encounter with the victim, Mr. Hassler.”

  “Victim? What victim?” Bewildered, Leonard glanced haplessly between her and Jasper. “What’s going on here?”

  “Let’s discuss this in private, Mr. Hassler. This way.” Jasper blinked at her. “I commandeered your office, Liliane. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Yes, I do. She had work to do. “Of course not.”

  Any chance of eavesdropping on their conversation vanished when, with a tilt of the head, Jasper steered the witness toward the corridor leading into her office. Resigned to the fact she could neither eavesdrop through the ducts since Thomas’ office remained out of bounds nor see Leonard’s expression when he learned of Thomas’ demise, she shifted her attention to Gloria.

  The receptionist looked frazzled and distraught, which worried Liliane. “Are you okay, Gloria? Did the detective upset you?”

  “No, he was very nice. He didn’t accuse me of anything when I told him I was home alone this morning.” A forced smile tugged at Gloria’s lips. “It’s no secret Mr. Finch didn’t like me very much, but I had no qualms with him. You know I was grateful for the job.”

  “Yes, I know.” The older indigenous woman was the last person Liliane would suspect of murder, though she wondered what happened to the screwdriver Gloria removed from her hand last night. “I’m sure Detective O’Neil believed you.”

  An eighteen-year-veteran of the Regina Police, Detective Jasper O’Neil moved into their small community fifteen months ago. Dillon had told Liliane’s daughter that his dad requested the transfer after a botched raid killed two of his informants. Though Jasper was neither in charge of the investigation leading to the raid nor to blame for the inside leak that blew the operation, he felt responsible for their deaths.

  The local residents still considered him an outsider, but according to her patrons at the gallery, with his friendly approach and community involvement, he had slowly grown on them. Given time, Liliane was convinced they would adopt him as one of their own too.

  “I...I just wished my son Acha hadn’t spent the night at his girlfriend’s.” A soft sigh breezed out of Gloria’s mouth. “Any idea when the office will re-open?”

  Hopefully soon. “No, but I promise to call you as soon as I find out. In the meantime, go home and enjoy your day off.”

  When Gloria pulled her car keys from her purse, Liliane noticed the office key attached to it. That was one key accounted for, two if Liliane counted the one in her possession, which left her four more keys to track down.

  Damien brushed her arm. “We need to talk about Leonard’s appointment, Lily.”

  Aside from Damien and the police officer guarding Thomas’ doorway, the lobby was deserted.

  “Unless he apologizes, you can find someone else to keep him on a leash.” Her job description didn’t include rehabilitating or deprogramming a returning officer. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need some time alone.”

  Thomas had brainwashed him so utterly that Leonard couldn’t distinguish facts from alternate reality. For Damien’s sake, Leonard had better smarten up. Fast.

  ~ * ~

  Alone in Nathalie’s office, Liliane logged into Thomas’ email account.

  Aside from Leonard’s message, which Thomas received at 1:04 a.m. and read at 1:11 a.m., nothing else in his inbox raised a red flag. She moved to the send folder.

  His last message titled Embezzlement was sent at 4:39 this morning to the assistant-director at Headquarters. She clicked on it.

  Hello Steve,

  I discovered some troubling evidence that my finance officer Liliane Irwin is using money from her polling station budget to increase the sales in her art gallery.

  Ms. Irwin contacted many landlords by phone yesterday afternoon to offer them the following deal: In exchange for purchasing one of her paintings valued between two and three hundred dollars, she would amend their lease for Election Day to increase their rental fees by five hundred dollars. Thinking they had no choice, the landlords agreed, and by the end of business day yesterday, she’d faxed them a new contract reflecting the new fees.

  After I intercepted one of the faxes, I contacted some of the landlords. Four of them confirmed they’d received a phone call from a woman identifying herself as Liliane Irwin. I was able to obtain copies of the four faxes she forwarded them, though I suspect there might be more. Rest assured I will personally contact the remaining landlords in the days to come and expose the extent of her embezzlement.

  The four affected landlords provided me with a written statement recounting to the best of their recollection their conversation with Ms. Irwin and the phone number she used to contact them. I traced it to a spare cell phone kept in the inventory room. Its memory has been erased, but the phone number matches.

  I reassured the landlords that their initial leases remain in force, and I apologized for her unethical and illegal behavior.

  I attach the landlords’ statements and copies of their amended leases signed and faxed by Liliane Irwin.

  My initial impulse was to fire her on the spot, but then it occurred to me I should present the case to you first, so you can instruct me on the best way to handle her.

  Awaiting your advice. Sincerely,

  Thomas Finch - RO 46099

  Liliane opened the attachments. The four statements contained similar conversations and the four faxes bore a decent forgery of her signature.

  Sickened by his effrontery, lies, and betrayal, she fought the bile rising in her throat. The vile man had skillfully orchestrated her downfall and sullied her reputation with a stain that might never be erased, even if she were to be proven not guilty. “Damien!”

  Steps scurried in the corridor, culminating with his arrival. Out of breath, Damien sank in the chair opposite Nathalie’s desk. “What’s wrong?”

  “This.” She tilted the screen in his direction. “Read.”

  His previous reaction to Thomas’ erotic murder didn’t begin to compare to the horror etching his face, transforming him into a grotesque gargoyle. “He didn’t?”

  “Yeah, he did. Probably in retaliation for Sininen Lake. If he wasn’t dead, I would kill him, the despicable snake.”

  A grin peeked through his grimace. “Actually, he concocted a rather clever way to discredit you. Except for the W, his imitation of your signature is almost perfect.”

  “Spare me your admiration for his crafty scheme.” Not amused, she snarled. “I need you to straighten out the facts with Steve while I check with Traci to see if anyone on that list ordered a painting—and call all of them to explain the situation.”

  ~ * ~

  Liliane’s disposition hadn’t impro
ved by the time Damien returned with Leonard in tow. In the last two days, damage control had taken a whole new meaning, a meaning she hated with passion.

  Alone with the two men in Nathalie’s office, she pinned them to the floor with her harshest maternal glare. “It better be good.”

  The man vying for the job of returning officer rolled back and forth on his heels.

  “I apologize for the way I treated you, Liliane. I should have believed you the night you forced me to stay. The rules were written in black and white in the book on top of Thomas’ filing cabinet. Still, I let him dupe me.” Despite the hesitation in his voice, Leonard held her heated gaze. “I won’t lie, I need that money. I need it badly. If you let me have Thomas’ job, I promise to obey your every word.”

  Damien leaned his shoulder against a map of downtown pinned on the wall. “I put Steve on speaker in your office while I filled in Detective O’Neil and Leonard on Thomas’ shady activities, emails, and subsequent murder. They heard every detail and they all understand what’s at stake. I’m willing to promote Leonard, but I’m giving you the final say. On a different note, we are to fully cooperate with the police. Anything O’Neil wants, you give it to him.”

  A forlorn sigh expanded Liliane’s chest. She didn’t trust Leonard, but she also didn’t want Damien to appoint her as returning officer. “Fine, but if you make the mistake of crossing me again, Leonard, I swear you’ll curse the day you decided to move into your sister’s basement. Are we clear?”

  Leonard stood at attention, almost saluting her. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Unwilling to give him an inch of comfort, she probed deeper. “I want to know what happened after you met Thomas at 5:00 this morning.”

  “Nothing. He told me he discovered you were embezzling money...I’m guessing he meant those leases he forged. We chatted maybe fifteen minutes during which he convinced me not to quit, then I drove home and went back to sleep.” His belligerence had disappeared, replaced by an eagerness to cooperate. “He was eating a donut when I left. You can ask the employees. He was very much alive.”

  The short account of his encounter with the victim didn’t enlighten her. “Did he mention going to the office or meeting anyone else this morning?”

  “No, but like I told the detective, he kept checking his phone, his personal phone, like he waited to hear from someone.” He shrugged. “That’s it. Can I go home or do I have to stay here?”

  In her presence, Thomas had never used anything but his election Blackberry to make calls. Liliane had no idea what his personal cell phone looked like, but she was inclined to believe Leonard since he had no discernible reasons to lie.

  The texts and the calls made or received from that personal phone would answer lots of questions. She didn’t recall seeing a cell phone on Thomas’ desk when she found him. “Okay, Leonard, here’s the deal. You will be here every day, from the moment we open in the morning until we close at night. You will sit in your office, read a book, play with your phone, watch a movie—whatever keeps you busy—but you will not answer any questions or make any decisions. I will answer your phone and if someone comes to see you, you request my presence before you utter anything else besides Hello. Any questions?”

  He glanced back and forth between Damien and her. “Can I play on the computer?”

  A burst of exasperation coursed through her muscles, tightening everything in its wake. Liliane forced a deep breath into her lungs as she struggled not to add another murder to Jasper’s caseload.

  “Yes, but I’m warning you, the sites you visit will be monitored. Stay clear of anything seedy.” To minimize the risk that Leonard access or trigger something he shouldn’t, she would also get Nathalie to de-authorize his computer, wipe its memory, and strip him of any security clearance he might possess. “I guess that’s it. You can go home. Someone will give you a call when the office re-opens.”

  ~ * ~

  During his stint with the Regina Police, Jasper had investigated many murders, but none in this quiet little town—until now.

  He’d sent an officer to Thomas’ house to inform his wife of his death and ask her a few questions. The officer’s call a few minutes ago prompted Jasper to stroll through the parking lot of the election office.

  According to the distraught widow, she’d heard the garage door around 4:45 a.m. She assumed her husband had left and she went back to sleep. The officer checked the garage. A SUV and a convertible were parked inside, but the victim’s red truck wasn’t in the driveway or on the street.

  The victim didn’t live within walking distance of the Tim Hortons where he met Leonard. He would have driven there, but how he arrived at the election office was the mystery that stumped Jasper. No matter in which direction he looked, Jasper didn’t see a single red truck.

  You didn’t walk from Tim’s, or did you? He estimated it would take an overweight man in his fifties around ten minutes to walk here from Tim Hortons. Unlike the screwdriver, it wouldn’t have killed Thomas to start his day with a little bit of exercise. Though it seemed out of character for the victim to have left his truck behind and walked here, Jasper couldn’t overlook the possibility.

  He’d already dispatched Officer Morse to Tim Hortons to check Leonard Hassler’s story. Hoping to catch the officer before he left the vicinity, Jasper phoned him. “Hey, Morse, are you still at Tim’s?”

  “About to leave, sir.” It sounded like the officer had accomplished his task. “The security footage shows both men having coffee. Hassler left at 5:16 a.m. and the deceased left at 5:22 a.m. after answering a phone call.”

  So the murder occurred somewhere between 5:22 a.m. and 6:47 a.m. That narrowed it down. “Good job. Before you leave, could you please check the parking lot for his red truck in case he left it there?”

  “We’re missing his truck? Hold on, I’m getting out of the cruiser.” Morse wasn’t kidding when he claimed he was ready to leave. “Lots of trucks around here, but no red ones. I’m circling the restaurant...No, I don’t see any. Want me to drive around town in case I spot it?”

  “Yes, that would be a good idea.” In light of its disappearance, Jasper couldn’t rule out the truck having played a role in its owner’s demise. “And while you’re doing that, could you also stop by the Rec Center and check at what time Liliane Irwin and Nathalie Jacobs clocked in and out?”

  Both women claimed to have been home alone until they met at the gym where they alibied each other. Since they both confessed to having strong motives, it could be argued they conspired together to kill Thomas then staged the discovery of his body.

  In the end, the timing of their workout might not matter, but it would fill a tiny hole in his report.

  ~ * ~

  When Jasper re-entered the election office, he caught Liliane rummaging through the receptionist’s desk. Behind her, the observer from Headquarters appeared to shadow her every move. Her gym clothes were as colorful as some of her paintings. Not many women got away with wearing purple, orange, and lime green, but Liliane did, even with mismatched socks.

  She looked lovely—and exhausted. “It’s not here, Damien.”

  Jasper approached them. “Is there a problem?”

  “Maybe, but before I say anything, I wanted to ascertain it wasn’t in Amanda’s room or Gloria’s desk.” The glance Liliane exchanged with the older man didn’t escape him. “Last night, I replaced Amanda’s doorknob and...and the pink screwdriver I used strangely resembled the one poking out of Thomas’ back.”

  “Are you telling me your prints might be on the murder weapon?” The screwdriver was being tested as he spoke, her revelation adding another layer of complication to the case.

  “Hopefully not, but yes. See...” She heaved a loud sigh. “Amanda handed me a similar screwdriver, then once I finished with the doorknob, Gloria took it. I don’t know what happened to it, but if it’s the same one, all our prints could potentially be on it.”

  Fantastic. That new information warranted another chat with Gl
oria. Jasper made a mental note to stop by her home later today. “Liliane, that noise you heard, could it have been a door closing?”

  “Why would a door close? Nathalie and I were alone in—” As his question appeared to strike the right chord, she gaped at him in shock. “You think the murderer was hiding inside when we came in?”

  He couldn’t ignore that possibility either. “You tell me.”

  “At first I thought someone bumped into something, but I didn’t see anyone. I even opened the back door to look into the parking lot, but I didn’t see a soul.” Her gaze wandered around the lobby. “I’m not sure what or who it was, Jasper, but it didn’t sound like a door.” She slumped into the chair behind the receptionist’s desk. “I didn’t hear any other noise. No struggling. No screaming. No gasping. No moaning. He had to have been dead when Nathalie and I came in, right? You can’t die in silence...or can you?”

  “It depends on the circumstances.” If his mouth was otherwise occupied, Thomas may not have uttered a peep. On the other hand, to hear a sudden sound, real or imaginary, gave the two women a convenient excuse to enter Thomas’ office and find his body. It frustrated him that he couldn’t officially rule out any suspects yet.

  “I’m never working elections again. Never ever. You get that?” She glared at Damien before turning her attention to him. “Do you know when we’ll be able to re-open the office?”

  “I should be able to release the crime scene by nightfall.” The guys collecting evidence estimated they would finish by suppertime, but Jasper preferred to err on the cautious side.

  “I could arrange for a cleaning crew to show up early tomorrow morning, schedule an employees’ meeting late morning, and then re-open at noon.” She turned toward Damien. “Do you think Headquarters would agree to it?”