LITMIR.BIZ

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Lighthouse is a strip joint with a rough clientele, mainly sailors off the ships, some armed forces personnel...” she smiled wryly, “and students slumming it. The staff usually handle their own disputes without calling in police. But that night the bartender himself put in the call, and when the first squad car responded, the fight pretty well involved the whole place. By the time other officers arrived and broke it up, there were four individuals wounded, one mortally.”

      “Daniel Oliver.”

      She nodded. “He was the instigator. According to witnesses willing to talk, he started an argument with another male customer. When that customer’s companion came over as backup, Daniel’s friends jumped in to take his side, and before you know it...” She shrugged in distaste.

      “Who was the other man?”

      “That never came to light.”

      Green’s eyebrows shot up. “You never caught him?”

      She shook her head. “While the officers were breaking up the brawl, he apparently just walked out. Daniel’s friends said they didn’t recognize him, and the bartender said he’d never seen him before. He wasn’t even a Nova Scotian according to witnesses who overheard him speak, but then they were well plastered by that hour of the night, so you know what that’s worth.”

      “How did Oliver die?”

      “Blunt force trauma to the left side of the head, the pathologist said. Caused massive intracranial bleeding, and he died four hours later in hospital without regaining consciousness.”

      “What caused the trauma?”

      “According to the pathologist, a bare fist, driven with such force it left the imprint of knuckles imbedded in the man’s skull.”

      Green digested this image soberly. It suggested either one hell of a strong guy, or one hell of an angry one. “Did you get any leads? Do you have a suspect but can’t prove it?”

      “Patricia was convinced it was someone from Daniel’s past. She and Daniel and four other friends were at a table near the back. They’d been drinking for three hours by then, and the bartender estimated they’d consumed about a dozen pitchers of beer between them. The stranger walked past and Daniel called him over to the table, saying something like “Hey, you son-ofa-bitch”. Now Daniel Oliver was a big guy, and when he was drunk, he could look pretty mean. And he was apparently yelling something about it being all this man’s fault and calling him a traitor and a lying bastard. There was a lot of noise in the bar, making it difficult to hear the whole conversation. Patricia was farthest away from the shouting match—”

      “So the stranger was shouting too?”

      McGrath fell silent, thinking. “No. If I remember the witness statements, he was speaking very softly, almost not at all, then suddenly he came over the table at Daniel with a deadly right hook.”

      Green’s surprise must have shown, for she grinned. “I have five brothers. All boxing fans.”

      “Your suspect had to have some expertise in that area too,” said Green. “Or it was one lucky punch. Unlucky, if you’re Daniel Oliver.”

      “Yes, it was one of the specs we fed into his profile, along with coming from away.”

      “What other facts did you learn about him? Witnesses must have observed something during the evening. Or the bartender. They usually watch the unknowns like a hawk.”

      “The man didn’t draw attention to himself. He’d come in alone about an hour earlier, sat in the corner at the bar by himself...” Here she paused, wrinkling her brow in her effort to remember. “Watching TV and drinking pretty heavily over the course of the hour. The man next to him struck up a conversation at one point, and the two of them got pretty chatty. When they got up to go to a table in the corner, that’s apparently when the confrontation took place.”

      “What did this third man say about him afterwards?”

      “Claimed he didn’t know him, they just talked about the news on TV.”

      “Did you think he was lying?”

      “If I recall correctly, I did. But I don’t know why.”

      “Who was he? Local?”

      She signalled to Jim and ordered two coffees. She seemed to be using the diversion to search her memory. “If I remember, he gave a fake ID . Lots of people do, when they don’t want to get dragged into an ugly investigation of a bar fight. And this was a strip club, remember. Wives and bosses might take a dim view.”

      “Still, couldn’t he even give you the first name of the assailant?”

      His skepticism must have showed, because for the first time a trace of irritation flickered across her face. “Listen, I investigated this case for months. I interviewed and reinterviewed dozens of witnesses, checked every hotel in Halifax and Dartmouth, and turned over every rock looking for the man. If he could have been found, I would have found him. We couldn’t even work up a decent composite of him, because the witnesses were all so contradictory.”

      He held up a soothing hand, impressed by her vehemence. At that moment Jim arrived with their coffees, and they both took some time out to add cream and sugar. On the wharf nearby, seagulls squabbled over a scrap of fish, and from the harbour came the mournful blast of a distant ship’s horn. McGrath sipped her coffee and shook her head slowly back and forth, as if caught up in the memories.

      “Some cases just stick in your craw, eh?” he said gently.

      She watched the gulls in silence a moment before replying. “It was such a pointless, brutal act. Not the bar fight. Men have been beating each other senseless since they first fermented the grape. It’s just that things were starting to turn a corner for Daniel. He didn’t deserve this, and neither did his fiancée.”

      “You said earlier that she thought the fight had something to do with the past. Did you find anything useful in his past?”

      “I went through it with a fine-toothed comb. It’s all in the files, but nothing jumped out at me. He was a tough, blue collar kid who was reportedly a bit wild as a teenager, but there was nothing in the RCMP or local police files. He joined the reserves because he liked uniforms and guns, and—”

      Her cellphone rang. She checked the call display and made a face before answering. Her expression was deadpan as she listened, her eyes fixed on a distant freighter being tugged into harbour. “Yes, sir, we’re on our way,” she said and disconnected.

      Tossing back the remains of her coffee, she shoved back her chair. “We’d better get back. Inspector Norrich is anxious to meet you. We can check the details of Daniel Oliver’s background in the files at the station.”

      * * *

      Norrich was waiting for them in the incident room, seated at a long conference table with the case files spread open around him. His massive frame overflowed the molded plastic chair, and his face had a bruised, purple hue that Green recognized all too well. When he struggled to his feet and lumbered forward to shake hands, Green detected the unmistakable whiff of booze.

      “Mike! Leo Norrich. Welcome to the finest town in all of Canada.”

      Green tugged his hand free from the meaty grip and smiled dutifully. “You may convince me yet.”

      “Your first visit?”

      Green nodded.

      “Then you must come over for dinner tonight. Annie and I will show you what real down east hospitality is all about.”

      Green was conscious of Kate McGrath standing beside him. Norrich had barely acknowledged her presence, let alone included her in the invitation. The thought of a boozy, backslapping evening on his own with the inspector and his wife made him cringe.

      “That’s very thoughtful of you, Leo. But judging from the number of boxes on that table, I may be here all night.”

      Norrich

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