Wednesday morning, Municipal Parking Garage
Emma wasn't at all surprised to be meeting with Sgt. Havilland in a parking garage. It wasn't the first time she'd met a contact in one since typically city garages were secured, offered surveillance of those coming and going yet still provided enough privacy to discuss the details of a case without a ton of potential eavesdroppers. As she and McCallen entered this garage's almost derelict elevator, she definitely noticed the change in the deputy's anxiety level. He'd unloaded a huge personal burden earlier which she'd fully accepted without pity or judgement and maybe that acceptance was now helping boost his fledgling confidence. He was all business when they stepped out of the elevator on the rooftop level where Emma almost immediately spied the unmarked dark blue Ford parked directly across the ramp from where they stood. The tall, lanky man waiting beside the vehicle didn't particularly strike her as a cop, his appearance more akin to a prep school administrator as he stood there in a slightly oversized tweed sport coat with matching pants and a bright white starched Oxford shirt. The caramel hue of his ill-fitting suit nearly matched the color of his deeply tanned skin.
"How much do you know about this guy?" Emma asked McCallen as they crossed the uppermost level of the garage toward their Police Department colleague.
"We've talked a few times, but I've never met with him in person. I do know he's a good guy though and he's a good cop. I'm quite confident he'll be able to help us with this case."
"I sure hope so," she muttered quietly. "And I hope he doesn't plan to take over…" she added as Haviland strolled around to the front of his car to meet them.
"Deputy McCallen. Sheriff Jones," he smiled, extending his hand in greeting. "John Haviland, Portland PD," he introduced himself formally as he shook hands first with Emma, then with the deputy.
"It's nice to finally meet you in person, Sergeant," McCallen replied, "especially now that our joint investigation got a lot more complicated."
"Yes, indeed," Haviland stated. "That would be an understatement." He gave the deputy a polite smile before turning to Emma. "Sheriff, I do hope that your husband's condition is improving?"
"It is. He's anxious to go home, but first he wants to make sure that the men who put him in that hospital room are brought to justice."
"That's certainly what I hope to do," Haviland assured her, unconsciously raking his fingers through his jet black hair as a breeze blew it over his forehead. He had to make a decision about how to broach the subject of their new suspect and chose to dive right in with a very straightforward statement. "McCallen mentioned that your husband identified Donovan Donleavy as the person who assaulted him."
"He saw Donleavy's photograph in today's paper and positively identified him," McCallen added for clarification before Emma could respond.
"He could pick Donleavy out of a line up if it came to that?" the sergeant questioned.
"Definitely," Emma stated emphatically, hands at her hip and elbows thrust out in a defiant pose, clearly irritated that Haviland wasn't convinced that Killian had identified the man who stabbed him. "Trust me – Killian never forgets the face of someone who's crossed him."
"I believe you, Sheriff," Haviland stated, noting the frustration evident in her voice. "This sure looked like just a botched robbery, but it sure isn't sounding that way any longer." He leaned back against the front bumper of his car as he pondered the facts. "Donleavy is the owner of a large construction company… What's in this for him? Stabbing a random stranger doesn't seem to fit any business plan I've ever encountered…"
"My husband overheard him saying something to one of those wanna be robbers that they were supposed to abduct Jean Scott. Killian just happened to be in the wrong place at the right time and disrupted the plan with a single gold coin." Emma explained the potential motive that her husband had laid out with his description of Sunday afternoon's events.
"Jean Scott? The coffee shop owner they tried to rob?" the sergeant asked for clarification.
"Yes," she replied. "It sounds to me like they were out to scare her but we don't know why."
"Have you asked her about any personal or professional history with Donleavy or Leviant Construction?" Haviland inquired, curious himself what connection the two individuals might have.
"Not yet," McCallen responded this time. "I'm meeting with her in about an hour."
Haviland absentmindedly scratched his nose as he continued to contemplate the complexity of their case and the new angle that this information provided, his dark eyes lighting up as he was reminded of a little fact that could be relevant.
"I recall reading something recently about Donleavy's company being one of the bidders in the contract battle to build the new Portland ferry terminal. The city planning commission isn't scheduled to vote on it for a couple of weeks but maybe this is part of some ploy to tip the scales in his favor? A little land grab of surrounding properties?" He was speculating out loud but Emma was nodding in full agreement.
"Ms. Scott did mention offers to buy her shop, but she wasn't intending to sell," she offered, adding credence to his theory.
"Hiring two anonymous men to rob and possibly abduct her would seem to be taking things a bit too far, but this is big business here. That terminal contract is worth millions," Haviland informed them. "I've got a few connections over at City Hall. Let me go see what I can dig up about the terminal project and the bid process. In the meantime, I'd like to know what you learn from Ms. Scott. If she's been harassed by Donleavy in the past, we might be able to better define the possible motive."
"Certainly, Sergeant," McCallen insisted. "I'll turn over all of my case notes as soon as I return from our meeting."
"Good. Do we have any other evidence to back this up though or just Mr. Jones' witness account?" Haviland wondered.
"Right now, just his account," the deputy answered. "I have a call in to the harbormaster to see if the partial vessel name that Mr. Jones was able to provide matches any craft owned by Donleavy and if it happened to be docked there Sunday morning. If we find the boat, maybe we can find traces of Mr. Jones' blood or his fingerprints to corroborate his story…?"
"You may be getting a bit ahead of yourself, Deputy," Haviland warned. "We'd have to get a warrant to search the vessel and even assuming we do, Donleavy likely cleaned up any potential evidence. We're going to need a lot more than the word of a wounded man from out of town to make this case." Emma hated to admit it as she set her jaw in frustration, but Haviland was correct. They needed more evidence before they could make a direct accusation. "Sheriff, did your husband happen to see the faces of the two masked men who took him hostage or only Donleavy's?"
"He managed to pull the mask off of one of them before he was stabbed," Emma replied. "And punched the other one hard enough to leave a black eye as nasty as the one he's sporting."
"I'm awaiting a call back from our sketch artist to see if we can get a composite put together," McCallen added. "Just haven't heard back from her yet, but of course, it's still early today."
"That's a good place to start," Haviland agreed. "Did your husband give any indication that Donleavy and the masked bandits might know each other?"
"I certainly got that impression from the way Killian described their interaction. They didn't sound like strangers, but we don't know for sure," she said.
"You know – maybe we should take a look at Leviant Construction employees too. Maybe he found someone within his own ranks to do some of his dirty work? I think I can do an employee database search without raising too many red flags. We might even have DMV photos on file that your husband can take a look at and see if anyone looks familiar."
"You're thinking Donleavy might have given a little sidework to one or more of his employees? Intimidate someone who might not have been willing to sell to him…?" Emma quickly caught on to Haviland's thought process.
"Precisely," was Haviland's response. "I'll get back in touch with you either later today or first thing tomorrow and we'll compare notes."
"Sounds good to me," Emma responded, knowing full well that they had a lot of ground to cover. "Appreciate you keeping us as part of the investigation."
"Why wouldn't I?" Haviland chuckled. "You know how difficult it is to bring another detective up to speed? You already have a rapport with one of our witnesses and you're married to the other. I'd much rather work with someone who already knows what's going on. Just remember to do your best to keep things under the radar or we may find ourselves in a whole heap of trouble…"
Portland Medical Center
Sgt. Havilland drove away in his department-issue Ford, vanishing down the ramp as his colleagues stepped back inside the waiting elevator. Emma knew they had a whole list of new questions for Jean Scott but first she needed to find and chat with Regina because she needed a few favors and hopefully, the Queen would be in a cooperative mood. Asking McCallen to give her half an hour or so to sort out a few things with her family, she hurried upstairs while texting Henry to find out if Regina was even here yet. He rapidly responded with a yes and a message that they were in the lounge on the opposite end of the floor from Killian's room - but where all of the vending machines were located.
Emma rounded the corner from the elevator bank to find mother and son seated in a pair of matching taupe faux leather armchairs – Henry with a paper cup of hot chocolate in his hands and Regina taking a dainty sip of whatever the machine was attempting to pass off as coffee. The Queen surprisingly looked more casual than usual today wearing only a pair of black wool slacks and a ruby red cashmere pullover instead of her more businesslike attire and Emma hoped that along with the softened exterior would come a willingness to help them out.
"Regina – thank you for coming down here to get Henry," Emma said upon entering the visitor lounge.
"It was the least I could do," Regina replied. "Like I told him yesterday, you've got enough to worry about…"
"That's certainly a gross understatement…," Emma sighed. "Hey, Kid – could I have a few minutes for a mom's conference here?"
"Yeah, sure," the teen responded, noticeably nervous that he would likely be the subject of the conversation.
"Why don't you go back down to the room?" Emma suggested.
"But Killian isn't back yet…," he reminded her.
"That's fine. You can be there when he does get back," she said to which her son simply shrugged, stood up and headed toward the opposite end of the building without further argument.
"So, what else did he do besides disobeying you yesterday morning?" Regina wondered.
"Nothing. Henry's been fine. What I needed to talk to you about has nothing to do with him."
"What then?" Regina said, her face reflecting both confusion and a little annoyance.
"Do you have any way to get in touch with Ursula?" Emma asked straightforwardly causing Regina to nearly choke on a mouthful of coffee.
"Can you repeat that?" the Queen asked her, bewildered by the out of the blue request.
"Is there any way you know of to reach Ursula?" Emma repeated her question.
"Why on Earth would you need to get in touch with the Sea Witch?" Regina scoffed. "Last I heard, she was still making amends with Daddy…"
"Killian swears that she rescued him when he nearly drowned."
"Just how long was that Pirate of yours deprived of oxygen?"
"Regina, I don't think he's making it up, but I want to try to talk to her anyway… I mean, if she did save him, why didn't she let me know somehow? She plucked him out of the water but then just left him alone on that beach to bleed to death?"
"Well, if the witch…," Regina started voicing her reply, then stopped herself as a nurse strode by. "…if Ursula found him," she continued in a more hushed tone, "maybe she had her own motives for not coming to tell anyone, but honestly, its probably a lot more likely that your husband hallucinated the whole thing."
"Which is precisely why I want to ask Ursula if she had anything to do with it. I'm sure there has to be some magical method of contacting her and if there is – you'd be someone I'm sure would know how…"
"There's a conch shell back in Storybrooke that can be used to summon her. I believe your husband was actually the last to use it but I think it was returned to my vault. I'll see if I can locate it when I get back. What am I supposed to do if I find it though?"
"Summon her and see if she'll be willing to meet me somewhere here in Portland?"
"Fine. I'll have Henry help me search for the shell tonight."
"Great. Thanks," Emma smiled. "I just need one more small favor…"
"Another favor?" Regina asked with a hint of disdain.
"I just need you and Henry to stick around a little bit longer. I need to go talk to the store owner where Killian was abducted but I don't want him to be left here alone and I can't exactly get a message to him right now to tell him where I'm going… Do you think you would be able to stay here for maybe another hour or two?"
"You want me to babysit the pirate?"
"I want you to be there when he gets back from Radiology and then keep him company for a few minutes – and by the way, please don't say the P word so loudly around here. No one here knows about that…."
"Fine – but no more than two hours. I've got to be back before 2PM because I have a spa date with my sister"
"Thank you. I'll definitely be back in less than two hours so you'll make it to your mani-pedi appointment in plenty of time."
Wednesday afternoon, Portland Harbor
A day after their first visit, things appeared a little less chaotic at Scott's Mart. While her CLOSED sign still hung on the front door, a hand lettered message was posted above it which stated Reopening Thursday. Inside, the shelving that the shop owner had been replacing yesterday was repaired and fully restocked in preparation to return to normal business. As Emma and McCallen approached the entrance, they could see Jean Scott atop a stepladder, busy replacing a burned out spotlight over her cash register. McCallen knocked forcefully on the glass door to draw her attention, waving when Jean glanced over to see what the racket was.
"Hang on a sec…," Jean shouted, giving the pair she'd met yesterday a smile and a wave back at them. She finished twisting the new bulb into place before backing down the ladder and hurrying over to unlock the door. "Sorry – lost track of time a bit while I tried to finish up a few more things around here so I can get this place back open tomorrow. I've lost too much money already this week staying closed but it took me a while to decide I was ready to get back to normal."
"Well, we're sorry to bother you again, Ms. Scott," McCallen began, "but a few more questions have arisen and we really need some additional clarification from you."
"Sure," Jean replied, inviting the sheriff and deputy inside. "C'mon in. I'm not sure if I'll have the answers for you, but you're welcome to ask."
"Thank you," Emma spoke up. "We're hoping you can shed some light on a potential motive for Sunday's events that my husband hinted at when he gave us his account of what happened."
"So he's okay?" Jean asked, momentarily interrupting Emma, but her concern for the man who'd possibly saved her life was genuine. "Was he able to fill in some of the blanks I couldn't help with?"
"Yes, he woke up yesterday afternoon and while he's nowhere near 100%, he's going to be okay," Emma replied. "His memory is still a little spotty but he did remember hearing the men who attacked him discussing you. Apparently, part of their plan was to kidnap and intimidate you. The so-called robbery may have been just a ruse to get to you."
"Me?" Jean asked incredulously, surprised by Emma's statement. "Why would someone want to kidnap me? Wouldn't have gotten them anything… I don't know anyone who'd have paid any type of ransom…"
"We don't think this had anything to do with money," McCallen explained. "Well, at least not in that respect."
"When we were here yesterday, you mentioned that you'd been receiving a lot of unwanted offers to sell," Emma jumped in, elaborating on McCallen's statement.
"Yeah, I've had quite a few," Jean responded, "especially since it was announced that the city was planning to rebuild the ferry terminal. A lot of the city planners would love to see this end of the harbor redeveloped to be trendier and have more tourist appeal but there are a lot if people out there who rely on little local shops like mine or places Mac's down the road. A few businesses caved and sold, but a few of us are hanging in there for the locals – the fishermen and dock workers who are slowly running out of options."
"Have you encountered anyone who's been particularly aggressive?" Emma wondered.
"Oh, sure – there have been a few pushy ones who keep coming by with offers but I'd have to say the most obnoxious has been Leviant. They bought up the empty lot over there a month ago," she said while stabbing a finger to the left. "I've heard similar stories from a few others around here that they've been aggressively trying to buy up additional properties."
"Leviant Construction?" McCallen asked for clarification.
"That's the one," Jean replied. "I've read in the paper that they'll likely win the contract to build the new terminal, but it's half a block from here. There has to be something else in the works or why else would they want to buy up a bunch of old businesses?"
"Why is definitely the big question here," Emma said as she leaned back against the counter next to the cash register thinking out her next question. "Ms. Scott, how many other businesses here on the harbor front have been approached by Leviant – what's your best guess?"
"I don't know for sure. There aren't a lot of us left… I know Mac was for sure and maybe the Smiths down at the boat rental shop. They're close to retirement age though and their kid moved to Texas so he doesn't want to take over the business. They might have already sold." Jean scratched at her chin as pieces started to fall into place for her. "You think the robbery attempt on Sunday was someone trying to strong arm me into selling and you might just be right…"
"We're thinking that was their intent," Emma began, "but my husband managed to mess up their plans."
"They sure seemed like they were after money – especially the way they jumped at his offer of gold really quick," Jean said, reminding Emma that the shop owner didn't yet know about the third man involved because they hadn't known that bit of information yesterday.
"Well, the two who busted into your place weren't working alone," Emma revealed. "There was another man involved – the one who was calling the shots and the one who stabbed my husband. Killian saw his face before they threw him overboard and this morning, he identified that man from a photograph in the newspaper but we needed some corroboration from you that you'd had dealings with our suspect…"
"I can't believe this is for real," Jean sighed. "Someone tried to kill your husband because they want my little piece of real estate?" She was struggling to grasp how her property might be worth a man's life… "I can't believe that someone could stoop so low or be that desperate to try to frighten me into selling."
"Unfortunately, it seems someone would stoop that low," McCallen responded this time, "and so far, every finger is pointing back to Leviant Construction, but it's all just circumstantial right now."
"Damn…," Jean sighed. "I had no idea…" The tough-talking blonde was suddenly wavering, her composure cracking as she realized that she could have been the one who had ended up tossed into the bay to perish. "Mr. Donleavy has been by here several times and I mean, he's a pompous ass, but I never thought my land was worth killing over… He's the one though, isn't he?"
"We think so," Emma answered. "When was the last time you had any interaction with Mr. Donleavy or anyone from Leviant?"
"Thursday before last," Jean replied. "The city planning commission was down here holding a press conference about the ferry terminal revitalization as they called it and Mr. Donleavy came around with yet another offer to buy my shop. I told him once again that I wasn't interested in selling and tore up his offer envelope. He said I'd change my mind soon."
"Sounds like a bit of a threat," McCallen chimed in. "Did you tell anyone what he'd said to you?"
"Who would I tell?" the shop owner replied with a shrug. "No one overheard it and honestly, until today, I thought it was just posturing on his part. He doesn't seem the type who likes to take no for an answer, but he didn't intimidate me – at least not then."
"Well, we know about the threat now, Ms. Scott," the deputy stated. "I'll talk to the Sheriff about stepping up patrols around the harbor for the next few days, but we'd really like for you to try to go about business as usual. If you have any contact from Donleavy or anyone else from Leviant Construction, I want you to call me immediately. It won't be easy to build a case against him unless we can catch him making a mistake and while I can't say with 100% certainty that he's behind this, its highly likely and we don't want you to be caught off guard."
"I really want to hope you're wrong," Jean sighed, "but I can't convince myself of it. I just can't believe someone could be so awful…"
"I've seen people stoop a lot further for even pettier interests," Emma lamented.
"Well, when you catch the son of a bitch, punch him straight in the face for me," Jean said with a smirk. "I'll leave the rest for you and your husband to decide."
