Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 122, Nos. 3 & 4. Whole Nos. 745 & 746, September/October 2003

Gilbert found Gabby Sheridan in her Regent Park apartment with her two small children early that afternoon.

She was a hazel-skinned Jamaican beauty in her mid twenties, slim, not particularly tall, but delicate and feminine.

She knew about Morrell’s murder.

“The lady downstairs told me,” she said.

Her eyes were puffy; she’d been crying.

“I was talking to Lorna Morrell this afternoon,” said Gilbert. “Tell me, is the boy Jason’s, or is the girl?”

“Jason fathered the boy,” she said. “His name is Michael. My daughter’s name is Judith.”

Gabby had her hair wrapped in a tropical piece of cloth and wore an amber necklace around her throat.

“So... Jason was here last night?” asked Gilbert.

“He comes every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday,” said Gabby. “Lorna understands that. She knows those are our nights. She has her man friend on those nights. A sweet old St. Anne boy.”

Gilbert took a moment to consider this. As this was the first mention of any black male to enter the investigation, he of course couldn’t help thinking of their witness description: tall, black, two hundred and fifty pounds, fleeing the scene in a white or beige late-model four-door sedan. Maybe this sweet old St. Anne boy might match their witness description. He took out his notebook.

“Do you know this... this man friend’s name?” he asked.

“Judith, don’t put that in your mouth!” The little girl, three years old, chewed on the corner of an Ebony magazine. “It’s dirty.” Gabby got up and yanked the magazine from the girl’s hands. The girl began to cry. Gabby scooped the child up. “There’s my little angel,” she said. “You can’t be putting things in your mouth. No, you can’t. It’s nasty, nasty.”

Gilbert tried again. “I was just wondering if you knew this man friend’s name.”

Gabby rocked the child. “Trelawny,” she said.

“Trelawny?”

“Trelawny Holmes,” she said. “A true gentleman. When the doctor said Jason was sick, all Trelawny wanted to do was help.”

Gilbert jotted the name into his notebook. “Could you describe him?”

Her eyes narrowed. “He’s black. He’s big. Taller than you. A gentler soul can’t be found.”

“So over six feet, and two hundred and fifty pounds?” he asked.

“About that.”

Gilbert felt as if he was getting a break in the case.

“And is he... Lorna’s age?” asked Gilbert. “Or closer to yours?”

“He’s thirty-five.”

“You wouldn’t happen to know what kind of car he drives, would you?” he asked.

“No.”

That covered specifics. Gilbert now went for background.

“So Trelawny got on well with Jason?” he asked.

“Not all the time,” she said, “but generally, yes.”

“Did you ever see any open animosity between them?”

“Once or twice. Trelawny thought Jason should come home and look after his two sons. They argued about that.”

“And Jason left here at what time last night?” asked Gilbert.

“At five in the morning. He likes to get back to Scarborough in time for a shower and breakfast before he heads off to school.”

For now, he had at least one suspect, Trelawny Holmes.

He thanked Gabby for her time, told her he might have to question her again, then went back to headquarters to make a stab at identifying Trelawny Holmes through any prior arrests the man might have had.

As it turned out, Trelawny Holmes was a thirty-five-year-old janitor who worked at the Scarborough Town Center shopping mall. His record included three counts of aggravated assault and a number of smaller violations. Gilbert thought this might be their man. Height and weight matched Gabby’s description, which in turn matched their witness’s description. The photograph on his computer screen showed a black man with copper-toned skin, broad cheekbones, a pronounced brow, a thick neck, and a high forehead. Holmes lived on Old Finch Road, around the corner from Lorna Morrell. Significantly, the photograph showed a goat’s head amulet around the man’s neck.

He downloaded the record into his case file and was just about to check the Ministry of Transportation search program to find out what kind of car Holmes drove when Joe Lombardo entered the squad room carrying a big brown envelope.

“Guess what I’ve got,” said Lombardo.

“What?” said Gilbert.

“I’ve done some digging on the Morrell case,” he said. Lombardo withdrew the contents of the envelope — five sheets stapled together — and put them on Gilbert’s desk. “This is a copy of Morrell’s life-insurance policy. He increased his coverage by three hundred thousand dollars just two weeks ago. The sole beneficiary is Lorna Morrell. It’s not a smoking gun, but it’s definitely something worth looking into.”

Gilbert glanced over the policy, then pointed to his computer screen.

“And look at this,” he said. “Here’s a picture of Lorna’s boyfriend, Trelawny Holmes. Gabby told me about him. His height and weight match our witness description. See what he’s wearing around his neck?”

Lombardo had a closer look. “You’re kidding,” he said.

“I was just going to find out what kind of car he drove,” said Gilbert.

“Let’s do it,” said Lombardo.