LITMIR.BIZ

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great hockey player, but as a young man … You ask anyone. I reckon it was only a matter of time before someone set him straight.”

      “So, he was arrogant?”

      Ridgeway sniffed. “He thought he walked on water. And the way they treated him around here, you’d think he was right. But I saw a little of the real Curtis Ritchie in the past few months, and he’s no hometown hero as far as I’m concerned.” He stopped and shook his head. “I feel bad for Ellen and all,” he said, with a shake of his head. “But still.”

      “We’ve been given copies of a lawyer’s letters, written on your behalf, Ms. Ridgeway,” Marshall said. “Claiming that Curtis Ritchie was the father of your baby. Is that what you’re referring to, Mr. Ridgeway?”

      “Yes, and it’s not a claim, it’s the truth.”

      “Let me ask you, Ms. Ridgeway. Can I call you Nancy?” She nodded, and Marshall felt the need to look to her father, who did the same.

      “Is it true that you alleged Curtis Ritchie was the father of your baby?”

      Ridgeway nodded, eyes still downcast. Smith could see her father fidgeting in his chair as the tension in the room grew. He was about to suggest they interview her alone, but before anyone spoke again, Ridgeway’s father stood up.

      “I’ve heard this all before. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get some air.”

      They all sat in silence as he left, then Mrs. Ridgeway spoke.

      “This has all been very hard on him, you’ll understand.”

      Marshall nodded. “I’m sure this is difficult for everyone. I wonder if we could speak with Nancy alone, just for a bit.”

      Mother and daughter exchanged a brief glance and then Mrs. Ridgeway stood and smoothed her plaid dress. “I’ll be upstairs.”

      Nancy Ridgeway seemed visibly relieved with her parents out of the room. “Curtis and I weren’t seeing each other for very long when I got pregnant,” she said. “He told me he loved me, but when I told him about the baby, he turned into … someone else.”

      As he watched her speak, Smith could imagine how it had played out — Ridgeway, a waitress at one of the local diners, and Ritchie, the handsome young hockey player with the golden future big enough for both of them. Who could blame her for believing in his fairy tales?

      “Did he deny the baby was his ?”

      Ridgeway looked down at her hands again. “I was seeing someone else when I met Curtis, but I know it wasn’t his.” She paused, as if reading their thoughts. “I was on the pill. I don’t know how it happened….”

      “How do you know it was Ritchie’s baby, if you were seeing someone else around the same time?” Marshall asked, tiptoeing around the real question, and thankful Ridgeway’s father had left the room.

      “I hadn’t slept with Dale in a long time.”

      “Dale was your boyfriend?”

      Ridgeway shook her head. “No … I mean yes, but I told you, we were broke up. Curtis was the father, I’m sure of it. And I knew right away from Curtis’s reaction that he wasn’t going to have anything to do with me from then on. I just wanted to drop it, but then Johnny got involved.”

      “Who’s Johnny?” Smith asked, looking up from his notes.

      “Johnny’s my brother.”

      “Why was your brother involved?”

      “He found out…. I should never have told him. Anyway, he got really mad and told my parents, and convinced them to hire the lawyer. He said Curtis was going to be rich and why shouldn’t he pay for his responsibilities.”

      Smith and Marshall looked at each other.

      “So, your lawyer wrote some letters, and what happened next?” Marshall continued.

      “Curtis stopped in to the diner one night and we got in, like … an argument.” She stopped and looked down at her hands again.

      “What did you argue about?” Smith prompted gently.

      “Curtis did most of the talking, really. He called me a whore and a slut and … I think he was drunk. He said lot of things, then Johnny showed up and they got in a fight — not a real fight, just like pushing and yelling. Then the next day I got a letter from Curtis’s lawyer saying I was a liar and stuff.”

      “Were there any witnesses to this fight, between Curtis and your brother?”

      “A few, I guess. It wasn’t in the main part of the diner. We were talking out back, in the kitchen, when Johnny showed up. I didn’t even know he was in the diner that night, but he must have seen Curtis come in and the two of us go into the back. I think the dishwasher was there. I was so embarrassed, I just wanted to die.”

      “So what happened with your lawsuit?”

      “I never wanted nothin’ to do with any lawsuit. And they said they were going to drag me through the mud if we didn’t drop it. Mom and Dad didn’t have the stomach for it, either, but Johnny kept tellin’ ’em to hold out. In the end, they offered some money and we took it.”

      “How much money?”

      “I’m not allowed to say.”

      Marshall’s eyebrows shot up. “Nancy, you realize this is a murder investigation, don’t you? If you refuse to disclose relevant information, we can charge you with obstruction of —”

      “Fifty thousand. It was fifty thousand dollars, but if we told anyone, we’d have to pay it back. We’re not going to have to pay it back, are we?”

      Smith saw the desperation in her eyes as they welled up with tears.

      “You’re not going to have to pay anything back, Nancy,” Marshall said. “But we’re going to have to talk to your brother.”

      CHAPTER 6

      Smith and Marshall were waiting in a conference room at the Peterborough OPP detachment when a burly constable in his late twenties entered carrying a thin file folder.

      “Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said as they shook hands. “Constable Mike Howard.”

      “David Marshall and Jack Smith, Ottawa Police.”

      “You’re investigating the Ritchie murder? That’s a tough break at this time of year. I’m a Leafs fan myself, but still.”

      “We’ll try not to hold that against you,” Marshall said, and they all shared a chuckle.

      “Seriously, though. Have you got any leads?”

      “Not much so far. But we were told you have a file on Ritchie?”

      They had dropped in to the detachment more as a courtesy than anything else, and had been surprised to hear on arriving that there was such a file, and were eager to see just what it contained.

      “It’s not on him, exactly,” Howard said, flipping through the file. “Ritchie laid a complaint for uttering threats.”

      “Against who?” Smith and Marshall asked in unison, both knowing the answer.

      “John Ridgeway Junior. I interviewed them both myself. There was nothing to it in the end. Ridgeway’s sister —”

      “We just came from her place. That’s why we’re here.”

      “So you know she was claiming she was pregnant with Ritchie’s baby?”

      “Yeah, she mentioned her brother was pretty angry with Ritchie, and that they got in a fight — at a diner.”

      “The Hard Luck Cafe, yeah. It’s a student place, near the Trent campus.”

      “So what have

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