Read Online The End of the Line by Stephen Legault - Free Book Online Page B

down.”
    â€œI’ve heard the stories. Six miles in a day . . .”
    â€œWell, in the mountains it’s all about bridges and tunnels. That latter means explosives. We build five hundred yards in a day and it’s a good day’s work,” said Wilcox.
    â€œDid he make enemies among the men he worked with?”
    â€œIt’s a bit too early to know, really. The team he was putting together never had a cross word for him, and none of the fellas along the Lakehead ever said a bad word. He was a fair man. He worked hard, and expected the same of others. That’s why I hired him.”
    â€œAny jealousy?”
    â€œYou mean someone that might have been passed over for the top job?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œNot that I know of. You’d have to ask around.”
    â€œI will,” said Durrant. He reached for his crutch and pushed himself to standing. Wilcox looked relieved that the barrage of questions had come to an end. He made as if ready to stand.
    â€œI have one more question for you, if you don’t mind.”
    â€œWhat is it?”
    â€œHow well did you get on with Mr. Penner?”
    Wilcox rose from his chair and put his coffee cup down on his desk. “We got on very well. Deek was like a brother to me, a good man. I chose him because of his honesty and commitment. I asked a lot of him, and he always came through for me.”
    Durrant regarded Wilcox standing before him. For a man who had just lost a brother he seemed well composed, but then, Durrant knew that the men who worked along the CPR had lost many such comrades to accidents and that they learned to simply move on. He imagined that might well be the case here. “Thank you for your time, sir,” Durrant finally said.
    â€œIt was no trouble at all.”
    â€œNow, I believe its time for me to have a closer look at Mr. Penner himself.”
    â€¢Â Â â€¢Â Â â€¢
    The two men stepped outside of the station, Durrant hurrying to pull his gloves on. He followed Wilcox across the station platform.
    Durrant observed that Wilcox walked straight and tall, a man of considerable confidence and poise. Durrant had to work hard to keep up with the brisk man. They crossed the yard behind the station and came to the shed where the cadaver of Deek Penner now lay. Durrant paused before the plank door and reached into his trousers for the key to unlock the cast heart lock he had placed on the door late the night before. He swung the door open and a band of light from the bright day fell across the vacant space. The room smelled of split wood and earth, and in the shadows next to the west wall lay the body of Deek Penner. The canvas tarp was pulled up over the man’s face and concealed his torso and legs, but the fingers from his left hand hung down below the oilcloth’s edge. He turned and said to Wilcox, who hovered close behind, “Would you mind fetching a lantern?”
    The general manager snorted in the crisp air as if he was put out by being sent on a common errand, but he wordlessly disappeared in search of the lamp.
    Durrant stepped into the shack and crossed the frozen floor to where Deek Penner lay atop a stack of cordwood. He waited a moment for Wilcox to return, leaning his crutch against the split rounds of pine that scented the air with a heady aroma. There was no stench from the body as yet, the temperature having remained well below freezing these past three days. Should the weather turn, however, decomposition would start and the cadaver of Mr. Penner would soon foul the small room.
    Without looking he heard Wilcox return, the snow outside the shack crunching beneath his boots.
    â€œYour lantern, Sergeant,” the man said behind him. “I’ll just hang it here,” said Hep, suspending the lamp from a square nail in a crude ceiling joist. It cast a sickly yellow light over the room that made the quarters feel close and stifling despite the cold.
    Durrant