EDWARD PICKED UP THE sheet of paper from the kitchen table that had fallen on the ground earlier. Folding it he put it in his pocket. He hoped that Urquiza hadn’t had a good look at the contents of the sheet while it lay on the ground, because if he had, Urquiza would have known that Charlotte had lied to him about the folders and binders being Ministry of the Environment property. And, that meant their secret was already compromised. Edward put a call through to his administrative assistant, Nadia, Charlotte’s sister. He sensed that she was surprised to hear his voice when she picked up.
“Edward? I thought you’d be at Norman Rattray’s funeral.”
He had completely forgotten about it. She went on to remind him that all KemKor’s administrative staff and management were at the funeral in Toronto—a two-and-a-half-hour drive south of Markdale. As the conversation progressed, he also learned that his CEO had told Chris Stedman, the security manager, to hire an extra five security personnel. After what had happened Tuesday evening, Edward wasn’t surprised that extra security would be hired. What did surprise him was how quickly it had been done since, according to Nadia, Chris Stedman had already introduced the new security guards around the building that morning.
To Edward that was both good and bad news. The good news was that it meant the CEO and Elkhart and their cohorts wouldn’t be snooping around while he, Charlotte and Janet checked out Building 3C later that day. The bad news was the possibility of Edward having to explain to new security why two non-personnel should be allowed into a restricted area with him—something, at the moment, he had not worked out yet.
Usually he would not have worried because Jim Higgins, with whom he had a good rapport, was usually at the front desk at the time he hoped to bring the three of them through. Now, Edward had no idea who would be at the front desk. and that bothered him since he needed passes for Janet and Charlotte. The potential now of running up against the proverbial brick wall was about to cast an ill wind across his plan. He had no intention of checking Building 3C without them since they were the only people he trusted. The other part of the bad news for him would be trying to explain on Friday why he hadn’t attended Norman’s funeral. Picking up Wednesday’s Chronicle and tucking it under his arm, he headed out the front door.
As he sat behind the steering wheel of the Equinox in his driveway, he quickly went over in his mind what he needed to accomplish before he met Janet and Charlotte. First, he would start with the Chronicle to learn what he could about the photo and KemKor’s acquisition of the land from Ritchie’s. Then he’d check out who was on duty at KemKor. He decided that Nadia could do that while he was en route. Next, he had to come up with a sterling explanation to get Janet and Charlotte onto KemKor grounds. His best hope was that Higgins would be on duty.
Twenty minutes later, he parked the Equinox in front of the West Grey Chronicle in downtown Markdale and turned off the ignition. Picking up the newspaper beside him, he got out. Edward hoped that Shirley Cooper, who had been the photographer of the two photos in which he was interested, had not gone to Norman’s funeral.
Inside the front door of “The Chronicle” and to his right was a half wall two meters long with a clear, lacquered pine countertop a half-metre wide that ran its length. On top of the counter were a silver half dome-shaped bell and some pamphlets on the dos and don’ts of ads, as well as public interest stories and who to contact if you had a story to submit to the paper. Behind the counter were two desks cluttered with paper. In front of him, in an open area, were four other desks. The surfaces of the four desks indicated that they had barely been used.
Edward rang the bell. When no one came, he rang the bell several more times and hung over the counter. “Is anyone here?” he yelled out. He heard a door open and shut, and the shuffle of feet along the hallway from the back of the building.
“Hold your shirt! I’m coming.” A burly man in his sixties rounded the corner of the hallway and headed toward Edward. “What’s your hurry, bud? I’m the only one holding down the fort today. So, whatever it is you want, I’ll have to do.” Plopping a small fan on the counter, he directed it so that the breeze directly hit his profusely perspiring bald head. He wore a beige, long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled above his elbows, grey pants with dark grey suspenders, and sandals.
“I think you’ve just answered my question before I asked it.”
“Well I’ll be damned! Aren’t you Slocum? Edward Slocum?” Edward nodded. “I thought so.” He wiped his hand on his pants and extended it to Edward. “I’m Jerry. Jerry Hobbs.” The two of them shook hands. “The only reason I know you is because I was the paper’s photographer at the recent Canada Day celebrations. You and that Rat-tray were in quite a few of my shots.”
“I take it you don’t like my CEO.”
“Now, what would give you that idea?” he chuckled. “No, I don’t like him a bit—and that includes his brother Norm. That’s why I’m not at that old codger’s funeral like the rest of ’em. Anyway, you said something about having a question answered before you asked it. Never assume anything, Mr. Slocum. You know what they say about assume—it makes an ass out of ‘u’ and ‘me.’ So, go ahead, ask it.”
“Actually, I came here to see Shirley Cooper. By the look of things, she’s gone off to the funeral, too.”
“You obviously don’t know Shirley. And, no she didn’t. She’s probably having lunch right about now in that nice screened-in gazebo of hers. What do you want with her, anyway? Maybe I can save you a trip.”
Edward opened up the newspaper and placed it on the counter. “You know anything about these two photos?”
“Hang on there.” Jerry searched under the pile of papers on the desk closest to the wall behind him and returned with reading glasses. “Need my seeing eye dogs before I can answer that question.” He barely scrutinized the photos before he took off his glasses. “I know these photos very well. I took them.”
“But I thought they were …”
“I know, you thought Shirley did,” Jerry interjected. “She used to work the human-interest stories and I … well, I worked the crowds. See, there in the lower right is my initial.”
“You’re going to have to make better Js than that, because it sure resembles an S to me.”
“Listen, are you thirsty? I sure know I am. There’s some beer in the rear if you’d like some.”
“That would go nice right now,” Edward replied.
Jerry took the newspaper and came around the counter. After placing the “Closed” sign on the front door, he locked it and led the way down the hall and through the door he’d come through earlier. The large hall they entered was a mixture of computers, stacks of blank newspaper, a printing press and file cabinets. The two of them walked along one of the two aisles to the far end of the hall and turned left. In the corner was a large fridge, and beside it was an old oak desk with two oak swivel chairs.
“Welcome to the cocoon.” Jerry dropped the newspaper that Edward had shown him on the desk to open the fridge. Perusing the contents, he chuckled. “You know I’ve got what’s in here memorized. Should have since I’m the guy who stocks it. What do you want? A Blue, Canadian, Sleeman or one from one of our local breweries, Maclean’s Ales? Hope you’re okay with drinking out of a can or bottle.”
“It’s the only way to go. A Maclean’s will do just fine.” Taking the can from Jerry, Edward snapped off the tab from the Maclean’s and took a drink. “Tell me, Jerry, a few seconds ago you welcomed me to the cocoon. Why the name?”
“I do some of my best creative thinking right here before I go out on assignment. It’s the location where the metamorphosis of idea and image take flight, with a little help from my friend.” Jerry held up his bottle of Canadian and then took a long drink. Putting the beer on the table, he took out his reading glasses and opened the newspaper to the two photos on the second page. “Why the big interest in these?”
“Actually, it’s more curiosity than anything.”
“Curiosity? About what?”
“This photo here. As you can see, everyone around Norman is smiling—except him. Whoever or whatever he was staring at put that expression on his face. I’m still trying to decide whether its fear, unhappiness or both.”
“And you want to know who that person may have been?”
“That’s part of it.”
“Hum.” Jerry got up, grabbed another beer from the fridge and returned to the chair opposite Edward. “What’s the other part?”
“I understand there were a number of rumours about how KemKor acquired its present location.”
Jerry rubbed his large hand across his unshaven chin several times as he stared at Edward in silence. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly before putting his beer on the table and rolling back his chair.
“It depends on how you look at it and what you know. Now, that having been said, sometimes it’s wise to let sleeping dogs lie, Mr. Slocum.”
“I’m not sure what you’re telling me.”
Jerry stood up. “You see, Mr. Slocum, I really don’t know you. And until I do, this conversation is finished.”
“Maybe Shirley Cooper can help me.” Edward placed his half-finished can of beer on the table and stood up.
“Maybe, but I’d suggest you leave her alone.”
Edward knew it was time to leave.
As the two of them walked along the aisle toward the exit, Jerry turned to Edward and stopped. “I understand you’re going to be at Charles Blackwell’s launch for premier this Saturday.”
“That’s right,” Edward replied.
“We’ll talk again then. In the meantime, leave Shirley out of this. You’ll note I’m not asking you—I’m telling you.”
Jerry watched Edward as he climbed into the Equinox and drove down the street. A couple of minutes later, Jerry uncapped another Canadian as he sat at his oak desk in the cocoon. After finishing the bottle and placing it on the floor beside him, he took a key from his pocket and opened the file drawer in the desk. The only item in the drawer was a large black binder thick with overflowing newspaper clippings and other documents. Putting the binder on the table, he made a phone call. “Shirley, I think it’s time to find a safer place for this binder.”
“What’s the problem, Jerry?” she replied.
“A fella by the name of Edward Slocum was just here. Know him?”
“I know of him.”
“Well, he’s asking questions about ten years ago.”
“Any idea why?”
“He said it was curiosity. He was particularly interested in one of those photos published in Wednesday.”
“Which one?”
Jerry picked up the newspaper. “Why don’t I bring it around and show you.”
“Have you had lunch yet, Jerry?
“No, not really,” he replied. “Do you think we can trust this guy, Shirley?”
“Bring the binder, and we’ll talk over lunch.”