August 6 – camera recorder showing fault.
August 8 – Devo assistant called hospital. Asked whether I had authority to discuss sale.
Calvin stopped.
“Eight?”
“Yes.”
“Two days after?”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell police?”
“About the call.”
“And?”
“Not illegal to call.”
“No.”
Jory turned pages.
“There.”
A plate number.
Black F-350 seen outside Baxter’s Garage three weeks after Gerald’s stroke.
Not exact certainty.
But close.
Calvin said:
“Why didn’t you show anyone this?”
“Show who?”
“Police.”
“I did. Some.”
“Lawyer?”
“Couldn’t afford one.”
“You’re running a garage.”
“I’m running a garage that lost its main mechanic overnight.”
He nodded.
Fair.
Jory looked at the photograph again.
“My dad described Vickers smiling.”
Calvin waited.
“He said that was what bothered him.”
“What?”
“He never stopped smiling.”
She looked toward the office window.
“Dad told him no. Vickers walked around the building. Looked at the north access. Asked who opened mornings.”
Calvin’s expression sharpened.
“Who did?”
“Dad.”
“Alone?”
“Usually.”
Jory swallowed.
“The north access isn’t visible from most of Kier Street because of the storage wall.”
Calvin said nothing.
She continued:
“If a truck came before six-thirty, you could park there without being seen from the intersection.”
“You’re thinking too fast.”
“I know.”
“Stop.”
She closed her eyes briefly.
Then nodded.
“We need facts.”
“Yes.”
Jory took one breath.
Then another.
“Okay.”
Calvin slid the notebook back.
“No.”
She looked at him.
“This stays safe.”
“That’s my notebook.”
“You need copies.”
“I have some.”
“Full copies?”
“No.”
“We copy both. You keep originals wherever you decide.”
She stared.
“Why?”
“Because if it matters, we don’t have one copy.”
Something shifted in her face.
“Dad says the same thing about keys.”
“Your dad and I would probably annoy each other.”
“He annoys everyone.”
“Good.”
Diane called before lunch.
The numbered company had been registered to a holding corporation.
One director:
an accountant named Peter Sand.
Another:
Reginald Vickers.
Further corporate links connected the structure to a Devo-controlled development partnership.
Not proof Lawrence Devo personally ordered anything.
Enough to establish relationship.
Ron found more.
The black F-350 had been registered under 732419 Ontario Ltd. around the time of the old repair.
Transferred months later to another related company.
Insurance history linked the policy contact to Devo Development’s commercial office.
Calvin called Clare Weston.
Diane recommended her.
Clare was a civil-litigation lawyer in Sudbury with experience in development disputes and municipal accountability.
She met Jory, Calvin, and Diane Wednesday morning.
No theatrics.
No promises.
That immediately made Jory trust her.
Clare read the notebooks slowly.
Compared entries to the corporate records.
Reviewed the truck file.
Then looked at Jory.
“What do you want?”
Jory answered:
“My father’s garage left alone.”
“That is a civil objective.”
“And I want to know what happened to him.”
“That is potentially criminal.”
“I know.”
“Those are separate tracks.”
“Fine.”
“Good.”
Clare pushed the truck photographs aside.
“This does not prove anyone hurt your father.”
“I know.”
“The corporate link matters. The surveillance matters. The offers matter. The timing matters. But none of those equal causation.”
“I know.”
Clare studied her.
“Excellent. Keep knowing that.”
Calvin almost smiled.