Chapter 115

Kyle Verryn.
Cst. Halfkenney had taken Verryn’s statement, Sunday, February 10, the day after the murders.
Digby remembered she’d shared a few glances with him, at the Lee crime scene. Him and Rawle Powder had snuck through the woods, to take pictures. She remembered Verryn was a tall, slim, awkward-looking person.
Was it possible that he could kill a burly man like Jack Lee?
Digby didn’t think so, although he had seemed a little cold in the eyes.
Maybe he had some martial arts training.

According to his whereabouts timeline, Verryn was on-duty with the newspaper, the Friday the Lee’s disappeared.
Jack Lee was off sick that week, no doubt thanks to the rat poison someone was feeding him.
Verryn’s wife and three girls were also away that week, visiting her parents in Newfoundland.
Verryn was home alone.
He lived in Wolfville and was working from his home office that Friday. So, why was he in Gaspereau getting gas, so early in the morning?
There were many possible explanations, but Digby allowed her train of thought to run its course.
No alibi for much of Friday. In the area at 5:45. Opportunity. Motive. After Jack’s death, he got hired on at the newspaper full-time. He would soon be folded into the union completely. A great job for life.
She thought of something else she’d read in the backgrounder, and used her finger to locate the paragraph again. Page three:
“Verryn works second job. Takes shifts as casual labourer at Valley Fresh Co-op chicken plant in Port Williams, earns $10.71/hr, evening shift.”
He can’t support his family as a fill-in reporter, so he cuts meat at the chicken plant.
Wouldn’t a reporter consider that demeaning?
Someone who regards himself as a professional, forced for economic reasons to cut raw chicken. Wouldn’t he feel resentment?
A thought struck her suddenly. She became excited for the first time, in a long time. Rat poison.
Dr. Jenks had used the words ‘commercial rat poison.’
A food processing facility, like a chicken plant, would stock rat poison by the barrel drum.