The next day, Mr. Kosinsky called the Meacham’ house and Woody answered the telephone. “Toronto” he heard in a whisper and then the phone on the other end clicked off.
Woody knew there was a thriving and loosely-connected ex-pat community in the Toronto area. Somehow, Jerry had made it safely back to North America and was now close to home. He had been encouraging to Jerry’s parents the night before when insisting that their son would inevitably come home. But Woody knew that many war protesters found life north of the border more to their liking and never did return to the United States. Well, now was the time to find out his friend’s ultimate intentions.
Woody had two outstanding investigative mentors in Det. Willoughby and his stepfather. Hopefully, he could employ just a small percentage of what he had gleaned from them in pursuit of his childhood friend. To be just a little bit like them, he mused, what could be more honorable?
Two days later, Woody Meacham crossed the U.S. border at Rouses Point, NY on the edge of Lake Champlain and entered Canada.
HANK WILLOUGHBY NEVER had another case which defined him like the Torpedo Factory murder. He neither sought nor did he receive a promotion but his colleagues in the department understood that the hard-nosed, dogged detective exemplified what it meant to be a good cop.
He wondered about Bellows’ death so soon after the return of the infamous photographs but knew that to suggest an investigation would be futile. Willoughby had his own code of justice and felt that the archivist got the fate that he deserved. He thought of Viola Finch in a cage not of her choosing and decided to let sleeping dogs lie.
Willoughby was motivated by Pudge to look deeper into his own history and he was surprised when he was able to trace it back to Lincolnshire in England. He discovered that there were barons and dukes galore in the family tree back to William the Conqueror and, while amused, he was not motivated to take up the family coat of arms.
You might say that Willoughby was a sentimental guy, someone who got soft in retirement but in truth he had always had a heart of gold and, like Pudge McFadden, felt for the lost souls like Viola Finch and, yes, even Leonard Scatcherd.
Pudge tried to get Willoughby to join him in his burgeoning saloon enterprise but the retired detective was content to putter in his garden and perfect his talent for growing rather large tomatoes. He was always available when a young detective came by to chat, usually with a perplexing question about a particular case that had him stumped.
But his true joy was to indulge his latest woodworking hobby – the construction of bird houses, all of them colorfully painted and with doors on all sides for easy egress.
Willoughby became quite good at his craft and family and friends were the beneficiaries of his handiwork. It was only his wife who understood and appreciated that he was paying homage, in his unique way, to a little bird that never got the chance to spread her wings and soar.
Other Novels
by
Arno B. Zimmer
THE PARLOR CITY BOYS RETURN TO PARLOR CITY A MURDER IN PARLOR HARBORCopyright
Copyright © 2018 Arno B. Zimmer
All Rights Reserved
The characters and events described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to any person, alive or dead. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.
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Cover Art By Mark E. Phillips