Hamish Cameron Investigates

Hamish Cameron Investigates

Volume 1 of The ABC Files

Copyright @ 2020 Paul Masson. All rights reserved

ISBN 978-1-7771944-0-6. Publisher Paul Robert Masson

PO Box 1866, Niagara-on-the-Lake, ON L0S 1J0, Canada

Contents

Preface

Part A. New Dawn

1.  Life at New Dawn

2. Tragic Events

3. Some Questions

4. Research into Ageing

5. More Information on FRA

6. Other Business

7. Some Sleuthing

8. The Break-In

9. The Strathcona Clinic

10. Hamish’s Story

11. New Dawn Again

12. Drs. Laframboise and Chen

13. A Trap

14. The Noose

15. The Police Investigation

16. Life after New Dawn

Part B. The Morrison Pulp and Paper Mill

1. The March

2. Sabotage

3. A Call from the Minister’s Office

4. A Visit with John Morrison

5. The Plant

6. Save Our Planet

7. The Yacht Club

8. Danny’s Bar and Grill

9. Night Shift

10. Tensions Mount

11. The Panel

12. Family Matters

13. Sharks Circling

14. Family Troubles

15. Further Conversations

16. Wrapping up the Case

Part C. Sailing Away

1. Wednesday Night Sailboat Races

2. The Case at Issue

3. The Usual Suspects

4. Hamish the Sailor

5. The Links

6. Another Race

7. The Police

8. The Williams Trophy Race

9. The Links Again

10. Further Investigation

11. A Judgement of Solomon

12. Another Meeting with Dave Francis

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Preface

Ashcroft-by-the-Sea, on Nova Scotia’s Atlantic coast, was founded in the late 18th century by United Empire Loyalists. It retains many of the handsome brick and stone houses built in its heyday, though the sources of its early prosperity, fishing and lumber industries, have long ago moved out or shut down.  Now it’s a retirement community, occasionally called ABC -- chosen by wealthy retirees from as far away as Toronto as the place to spend their golden years in pleasant surroundings and to breathe a bracing sea air. New Dawn is a retirement residence located there. Established some twenty years before to provide senior-citizen accommodations and health care, it is located in rolling hills that lead down to Trahearne Bay.  Its setting is splendid, especially with spring flowers in bloom in the numerous garden beds that surround the residence, which has a traditional appearance that blends in well with the scenery.

Part A. New Dawn

1. Life at New Dawn

Sean Carroll, a volunteer, stopped in one Monday to see Hamish Cameron for a chat. As he came into the room, Wendy, the nurse on duty, was telling Hamish to take his medicines:  Here is the pink pill and the blue pill that you need to take.

She handed the medicines and a glass of water to Hamish, who pretended to take the pills, concealing them instead in the palm of his hand. When she had left, he winked at Sean, and washed the pills down the sink.

I don’t take them, and I don’t feel any the worse for it. I am supposed to have high blood pressure, and the usual prostate problems of a man my age, but so what if I do? I’m not going to take orders from these bossy nurses.

But didn’t the doctor say you should? Who is your family doctor, anyway?

It’s the fellow that New Dawn has on retainer, Dr. Gibson. He comes by once a week and checks people out -- more often if there’s an emergency. But I was fit as a fiddle before I came here and taking medicine that is unnecessary is just going to make me more dependent on doctors, nurses, and assorted bloodsuckers!

They talked about this a bit more but Sean couldn’t convince him to take the medicines. Though he should have alerted the nurse, Sean decided that Hamish enjoyed being contrary and that this probably offset the negative effect on his health of not taking the pills. Hamish was of above average height and had the authority one would expect from a judge on the Nova Scotia Court of Appeal. He had served there until he reached the mandatory retirement age of 70, after which he worked another five years as a part time, or supernumerary, judge.  Sean thought that Hamish intimidated the staff to some extent, so that even if they suspected he was not taking his medicine, they were unwilling to confront him with it.

Sean admired the view from Hamish’s room out over Trahearne Bay, and was impressed by the opulent furnishings.  The living room table had a curio cabinet with some Art Nouveau and Deco vases, the furniture was solid wood, and there were Persian carpets on the floor. He had been told that residents, who included retired industry titans and senior public servants, had mostly come from away, in large part because the locals could not afford the hefty monthly fees.  Yet despite the luxury of the setting, Sean felt sorry for the residents, because they had come here to die.

As Sean left Hamish’s room to go down the hall to the common room, he ran into John Devlin, a cheery fellow who was a little overweight and had protuberant eyes.  He greeted Sean with a smile: Is Hamish up to his usual mischief?  I understand he refuses to take pills. As for me, Wendy says I am her best customer! It’s a good thing that I don’t have to keep track of them all, she lays them out on my bedside table and tells me when to take them.

Sean laughed and John continued on his way, walking a little unsteadily.

Smelling the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, Sean poured himself a cup and helped himself to a Danish in the common room. He greeted some of the residents whom he knew: Hi Marjoree, it’s good to see you. You too, Kevin.  Others were reading, and there was a group of knitters in the corner.

Not all the residents were so active. Sean noticed that some stared at passersby like cows in a field.  As he walked down the hall, a man parked in a wheelchair raised his voice in anger, demanding to be returned to his room.  The odour of disinfectant was pervasive, not quite covering that of urine.

After visiting a few times, Sean had concluded that New Dawn was a cut above most care facilities, since it catered to a wide range of needs of its residents, including those wanting to live independently and the ones needing nursing care. Staff were abundant, and they were pleasant and efficient. Obviously the administration could afford to pay generously to provide the best of care. The main, single-story building, which had rooms and suites for 55 residents, was light and airy. The entrance lobby, flanked by an office and a waiting area, led to a common room, with a pool table and card tables for bridge or poker, a library, and a dining room decorated with modern paintings of the seaside and other tourist destinations. Each table had a vase of freshly cut flowers. Behind the dining area were two wings that contained the residents’ own apartments.  One of the wings was for residents who could live on their own, while the other provided nursing care. There were two outbuildings--one for storage and maintenance, and the other, staff living quarters.

On his way out, Sean looked over the list of the day’s activities posted on the bulletin board. Tuesday offered a bus trip into town for shopping, a lecture on local birds, and, at the end of the afternoon, a wine and cheese party.  Another sign advertised Games Day every Friday, encouraging residents to participate.

Before leaving, Sean tapped on the open office door of Jerry Adams, the manager of New Dawn.  Jerry was dressed in slacks and a sober sports jacket, but no tie. He was in his mid-to-late forties, but his brown hair was thinning at the front. He had a pleasant round face, and was a little overweight but generally fit looking.

Greeting him cordially, Jerry smiled as he said: Sean, I am so glad that you’re willing to provide some company for our residents. Many of them don’t get out at all--you can be their window on the outside world.  You’ll find that some of them don’t talk much to their neighbours, and you can be a big help in getting them out of themselves.  If there is anything I can do to help make this work, let me know.

I’ll do that Jerry. If it’s OK with you, I will continue to visit two or three times a week.  I’ve been chatting with ten or so of the residents regularly, while the others I see more occasionally. I drop in to ask how they are and whether I can do anything for them.

That’s great. Keep up the good work!

At Sean’s next visit he went to see Hamish Cameron again.  He had become one of his regulars. Hamish was still sharp and active, but having no family he had decided to go into a home in anticipation of not being able to cope with life on his own. He regretted that decision now, since the other residents did not provide the intellectual stimulation that he was used to, and he missed the purpose that his career as judge provided to his life. He enjoyed Sean’s visits, which gave him the opportunity of conversations on a wide range of subjects--politics and philosophy, among them.

Hamish launched into a diatribe against humanity. All of our ideals are rubbish. We humans make up stories about things that transcend our day-to-day existence as if they were universal concepts: truth, honour, religion, beauty -- to name a few -- but they’re all man-made. They are just fables – myths -- that we like to tell ourselves, allowing us to pretend that we humans are somehow better than the other creatures around us. But since these concepts are man-made, they’re all contaminated by our own greed, cupidity, and self-deception. Look at politics today, look at the Church in the Middle Ages torturing ‘heretics’ in the name of Christian values, the horrors of 20th century fascism and communism, how we lie without thinking twice about it …

Sean furrowed his brow, but with a twinkle in his eyes said: You may be right, Hamish, but you know what they say: ‘the future belongs to the optimists’. Sean was also a volunteer at his church, and he had a more positive view of humanity. He liked to banter with Hamish, not sharing all his opinions but amused that Hamish persisted in pushing his arguments to their logical extreme.

Hamish responded with an attack on religion.  You have to agree, Sean, despite your involvement with a church, that there is nary a trace of divinity in this world. Perhaps God is not so much dead as distracted by other things. It could be that he is occupied with some of the infinite number of other parallel universes. Dealing with them all might be too taxing, even for someone with his supernatural powers.

Perhaps as a result of his exposure as judge to some of the dregs of humanity, and also due to his dissatisfaction with his current life, Hamish had become pessimistic about the future of mankind.  After several decades on the bench in Halifax, I concluded that the penal system does little to change people’s behaviour for the better. Most first offenders are too benighted to learn from the experience of others not to risk jail, and once they are caught and convicted, jail turns them from being naively misguided into hardened criminals. So the only benefit to society of incarceration is to protect others from the perpetrators. Sentences should be long and parole should be denied in most cases.

Whatever you say, Hamish. Sean shrugged his shoulders and walked away.

Sean’s next stop was Marjoree Price, who had been at New Dawn for three years and enjoyed life there. Sean had known her slightly for a number of years, since she had lived with her husband in a historic home in Ashcroft.  She sold the house after his death and moved into New Dawn. She had been a neighbour of Sean’s, who lived in The Oaks, his family's home.  The Carrolls had helped found Ashcroft-by-the-Sea, and had