“You’re on, lady,” Tim confirmed then pressed the doorbell.
Several seconds passed and the door opened, revealing a young, attractive woman in her twenties clad in a t-shirt and flannel pyjama pants.
“Oui, yes?” she questioned.
“Anna Ladouceur?” Harris asked with a smile.
“Yes,” the woman nodded. “How can I help you?”
“I’m Detective Tim Harris and this is Detective Joanne Nelson. Do you own a 2001 Nissan Sentra?”
“Yes, yes I do,” Ladouceur answered, concern now showing in her expression. “Is there a problem? What is this about?”
“We’re looking for a Sentra which was involved in a hit and run accident a few weeks ago,” Joanne lied. “There was a witness but he only got the first numbers on the license plate, 425. Luckily for us, he was pretty sure it was a 2001 because he owned one for several years, white, in fact, which is the colour of the car we’re looking for.”
“Oh my God,” Ladouceur exclaimed. “Mine is white and my license number starts with 425 but I was never involved in any accident, ever.”
“Does anyone else drive your car?” asked Tim.
“My boyfriend takes it sometimes to go to work if I don’t need it,” the young woman replied, “But he would have told me if he was in an accident.”
“This was a hit and run, Miss Ladouceur,” said Joanne. “Maybe he wanted to keep it from you.”
“No, Ronny wouldn’t do that,” Ladouceur disagreed.
“What’s Ronny’s full name?” Tim asked.
“Ronny, uh, Ronald Gallagher, but he can’t be involved in this.”
“If he isn’t, I’m sure we can clear this up easily enough simply by asking him a few questions,” said Nelson. “Is he home?”
“No,” Ladouceur shook her head. “He’s at work right now.”
“Where does he work?” Joanne pressed.
“Please don’t bother him there,” the woman pleaded. “This is his dream job.”
“We won’t do anything to jeopardize his employment,” said Joanne. “Now, where?”
“Ronny’s the assistant chef at the Diplomatic Mission of Pakistan,” Ladouceur muttered. “He works mainly at the Consul General’s home. It would kill him to lose his job for something he didn’t even do.”
“I can understand why,” Tim nodded thoughtfully. “Let’s see if we can get our answers without bothering him at work. This accident we mentioned took place on New Year’s Eve around eleven-thirty in the evening. Do you know where Ronny was then?”
Ladouceur’s expression brightened immediately. “New Year’s Eve? Of course! He was at the Consul General’s home. We both were. There was a party and I was hired for the evening to serve tables. I’m a waitress so I’ve worked at embassy functions here or there in the past.”
“So you were both there all evening?” Nelson asked.
“Absolutely,” the woman insisted. “After dinner service was over, we had a party in the employee lounge for the staff and spouses. There are about twenty people who could confirm we were there. I even have photos. They’re still on my camera.”
“Those would certainly help,” Harris suggested. “Could we see them?”
“Sure. Give me a second,” Ladouceur agreed and ran up the stairs into the apartment, returning a moment later with her camera in hand. “Here you go. The pics are even time and date stamped. This is Ronny right here.”
Nelson and Harris peered over her shoulder, looking at several photos as she scrolled through them, noting that Ronald Gallagher was a short, thin man with a mass of flaming red hair.
“This certainly changes things,” Joanne admitted after a moment. “Is it possible someone used the car while you were at the party?”
“Nope,” Ladouceur shook her head.
Tim suddenly had a thought. “Is the car here?”
“Yes,” the woman pointed to her Sentra, half a dozen vehicles away. “Right there.”
“Let me have a look at it,” said Tim then jogged the short distance to the parked car.
He made a show of examining the front of the car and the left fender, even pulling out and consulting a notepad before rejoining the ladies at the apartment door.
“There’s no way it’s this car,” he announced, shaking his head. “There isn’t any damage and there are rust spots on the edge of the hood and fender by the wheel well. If the car had been damaged and fixed, that rust would be gone.”
“So, everything’s alright?” Ladouceur questioned hopefully.
“You’re definitely in the clear,” Harris nodded. “I’m sorry if we scared you but we have a job to do.”
“You certainly did scare me,” Ladouceur agreed. “I’m just happy you figured out it wasn’t my car you were looking for.”
“Well, apologies for disturbing you,” said Joanne, “And thank you for your cooperation. Have a nice day.”
“Thank you,” the woman smiled. “I will, now.”
Tim and Joanne returned to their car, remaining wordless until they were inside.
“Fine bit of acting, Detective Harris,” said Joanne as Tim started the engine.
“You did rather well yourself, Detective Nelson,” Tim grinned, putting the car in gear and pulling away from the curb. “Why don’t you give Dave a call and fill him in while I think about where you’ll be taking me for lunch.”
* * * *
Heading east on Hochelaga Street at the wheel of a VideoScope Cable truck, Jonathan turned onto Haig Avenue and rumbled slowly southbound.
“It’s the third house across the street,” he said over his shoulder. “Looks quiet but that doesn’t mean anything.”
“Yeah, I can’t see much,” replied Paul Landry from the truck’s rear seat as he scanned the house through binoculars. “We’ll just have to get closer to get this motherfucker.”
RCMP explosives specialist, Paul Landry, had served with the federal police force for over twenty years and for fourteen of those, until he had joined the bomb squad two years earlier, he’d been partnered with Pierre Tardif, Mohsin Rahija’s recent alley victim.
They continued down Haig Avenue to Ontario Street where Jon made a 3-point turn and headed back from where they had come. As they approached their target, he pulled the large vehicle to the curb and parked directly in front of Omar Kalpar’s house.
“We’re good to go?” asked Jon as he cut the engine.
“I’m ready,” Leslie nodded, donning a hard hat.
“Same here,” replied Paul. “I hope the bastard’s home.”
They climbed out of the truck and Paul got busy with an equipment case, pulling out an Eagle 5, a hand-held motion/object detector capable of detecting movement or objects over twenty feet away through most non-metallic materials. In the interim, Jonathan unloaded a twenty foot extendable ladder while Leslie went to the front door and rang.
“No answer,” she said as she rejoined them at the truck.
“Okay. Get Paul’s case and we’ll head out back,” Jonathan instructed. “I’ll stick to the right to shield you, Paul will be scanning and you’ll follow up to see what you can through the window.”
“Gotta love vinyl siding,” said Paul, gazing at the house. “This thing wouldn’t work through aluminium.”
They went ahead, through the gate into the fenced side yard, with Jonathan gazing casually at the neighbouring house’s windows.
“Nobody spying on us on this side,” he murmured as they slowed.
“I don’t see anyone anywhere,” Paul added, stopping and looking around. “Here we go.”
He proceeded to walk methodically along the length of the wall, keeping his eyes glued to the monitor on the device. He reached the back corner of the building and shook his head.
“Nothing is moving down here as far as I can see. Go, Leslie.”
She moved to the closest window, placed the case on the ground and stood on it. Inside, only cheap voile curtains attempted unsuccessfully to hinder her view.
“Small dining room on this side, living room across on the other side of the front door, all one open space” she said. “Stairway to the upper floor in the middle. Old, crappy furniture. Nobody in there.”
“Around to the back through the kitchen door or window,” said Jonathan as they resumed their trek into the back yard.
A quick 360 degree survey once again revealed no one in sight and Leslie climbed the few steps onto the back porch while Paul resumed his scanning across the back and around the corner to the other side. Once again, a cheap, translucent curtain in the kitchen door window did nothing to obscure her view inside.
“Kitchen is empty as well,” she reported, returning from the porch as she glanced at the rear wall of the house, noting a lone frosted window to her right. “No doubt the bathroom. Won’t see in there.”
“What does it look like on that side?” Jonathan asked as Paul returned from the north side of the house.
“Nothing detected. No windows on the ground floor,” Landry replied. “One on the top floor, just like on the south side.”
“We’re lucky so far,” Jon assessed. “Let’s get the ladder up on the north side first and see if we can find anything. Cables are running to the south side so we’ll keep that one for last in case someone shows up.”
They hurried to the side of the house, grateful for a large oak in the neighbour’s front yard which offered some visual cover. After extending the ladder a few feet and leaning it against the wall under the window, Paul climbed up and scanned across the wall then peeked above the lower sill through the glass before coming back down.
“Nada,” he reported while lowering the ladder. “A small steel bed and a bare mattress. That’s it.”
“We’ll check the other side,” said Jonathan, “Then we’ll go in.”
A moment later, they had returned to the side of the yard by which they had arrived and Landry was on his way up for one more scan and a look into the final window.
“Uh, oh,” he said this time, staring inside for a moment before climbing back down. “We either have some guy who sleeps soundly in awkward positions while fully clothed or we’ve got a body. I only caught a profile from the angle I was at but I think it’s the man we came to visit.”
“Any wounds, blood?” Addley asked.
“Not that I could see,” Paul replied. “We’ll need a closer look.”
“Yep, we’re going in,” Jonathan confirmed. “I’ll get the ladder back onto the truck and someone should stay in the truck to cover the front. I’d prefer no surprise visits while we’re in there.”
“Who stays out?” asked Landry.
“Not you since I invited you in case of fireworks,” Jonathan smiled before turning to Leslie. “Who’s going in, kiddo? You or me?”
“If it’s my call, I’m going in,” said Leslie. “Thanks, boss.”
“Go do your stuff,” Jon replied. “Phones on and get a camera going too. I want to see what’s in there.”
He returned to the truck while Leslie and Paul headed back into the yard to gain entrance through the back door, activating their phones for the three-way communication on the way.
“Is getting by locked doors one of your fortés?” Landry asked as they reached the back porch.
“I’m getting better,” Leslie murmured as she pulled a small device resembling a miniature electric screwdriver of sorts from a pocket of her coveralls.
“Wait,” said Landry, holding up a hand as she approached the door. “Let’s make sure there aren’t any ‘fireworks’, as Jon suggested.”
He ran his scanner along the four edges of the door, once again, gazing intently at the small screen.
“I thought that was a movement detector.” Leslie whispered.
“It detects movement but also sees objects based on radio waves,” he explained, “Something like an ultrasound. If our friends booby-trapped this door, I should be able to see the mass of explosives, the wires, anything which normally shouldn’t be on a door.”
He finished his scan and held up a finger as he opened his case. “That was fine but let’s do one last quick check.”
He put the scanner aside and pulled out another smaller device.
“Metal detector,” he said as he scanned the edges once again, getting readings only when near the hinges and latch. “We’re good. Go for it.”
Leslie inserted the dual pick attachment of the small battery-operated device into the door’s lock and pressed a switch, turning the doorknob and opening the door four seconds later. “Having the right equipment helps.”
“Indeed,” Paul breathed. “Let’s go.”
They slipped in through the open door and pushed it silently shut behind them.
“Clear the house first,” Leslie whispered as she pulled her Glock 36 Slimline from the shoulder holster inside her coveralls, her phone with the video running in her other hand.
Landry nodded as he placed the equipment case on the floor then readied the motion detector. “You cover me.”
He moved along the wall which separated the kitchen from the bathroom, eyeing the detector’s monitor while Leslie kept her pistol trained on the doorway, alert for any movement.
“Nobody in the bathroom,” Paul murmured as they joined near the doorway.
Heading forward, they could visibly confirm the dining room and living room areas were in fact deserted. Leslie quickly looked into the bathroom, validating the motion detector’s reading.
Paul gestured to a door in the wall below the staircase.
“Basement,” he whispered then pointed the detector towards the floor. “Not more than four feet deep. Give me a minute.”
He went into the bathroom and quickly but systematically scanned the floor, then returned to the kitchen to do the same.
“Looks empty,” he said as he returned. “Mice or moles are all I see so far. Let me do the rest.”
He continued the process in the dining and living rooms while Leslie kept an eye on the staircase to the upper floor.
“Yep, mice and moles,” Landry confirmed after a couple of minutes. “Nothing is even stored down there. Probably a dirt cellar.”
“Clean so far, boss,” said Leslie for Addley’s benefit. “We’re heading upstairs.”
“I’m with you,” Jon’s voice came through their Bluetooths. “Great camera work, Les.”
They climbed the stairs, Leslie in the lead while Paul trained the monitor on the room to their left, the one unoccupied by a body. At the top, he scanned the edges of the door then nodded and Leslie turned the knob and entered.
“Empty,” she confirmed a couple of seconds later. “Closet door is open and there’s nothing in there either.”
“And now for the grand finale,” said Paul, turning towards the other room.
He once again scanned the door edges and nodded then pointed the detector at the door for a moment before turning it off.
“We’re good,” he announced. “No one in there except for a dead guy.”
“You’re sure he’s dead?” asked Jonathan.
“This thing will detect a heartbeat at this distance,” Landry replied. “He’s dead.”
He opened the door and gestured to Leslie who entered and trained her phone on the corpse’s face.
“Is it him, Jon?” she asked.
“Him or his twin brother,” Addley confirmed as he compared the image to the employee profile photo. “What’s it look like?”
“Strangled is my guess,” said Landry as he touched the man’s cheek with the top of his fingers. “Nice solid rope burn around his neck, and I confirm he’s been dead for a while. Cold as ice.”
“What do we do with him?” asked Leslie.
“Leave him there,” Jon replied. “Start searching for anything which could help.”
They searched the body and found a wallet confirming the man’s identity as Omar Kalpar. The closet and single dresser contained a meagre assortment of clothing but nothing of interest. The floor beneath th
e bed was bare save for an impressive collection of dust. They returned to the main floor and quickly went through what little there was in the living room and dining room.
“This guy had no life to begin with,” Landry commented. “No television, no computer, nothing.”
“The place might have been cleaned out by whoever killed him,” Jonathan suggested.
“It’s possible,” said Leslie, “But I doubt it, based on the dust. Possibly a laptop was taken but nothing bigger. On to the kitchen.”
Although the tiny kitchen had few cupboards, several shelves were empty. Omar’s kitchenware consisted of dinnerware and cutlery for four, a couple of Rubbermaid sandwich containers, two pots, one frying pan, a stovetop kettle and a handful of cooking utensils. The pantry was sparsely stocked with no-name canned fruits and vegetables, half a dozen boxes of store-brand macaroni and cheese, a box of tea and a jar of peanut butter. The fridge contents consisted of half a loaf of bread, a small tub of margarine, four eggs and a litre bottle of orange juice.
“The man was a regular gourmet,” said Landry as he opened the double doors to the last cupboards, those below the sink. “Ohhh, we may have something here.”
“Strange place to store a gym bag,” Leslie agreed, aiming her phone to give Jonathan a better view.
“Don’t touch anything,” warned Landry, opening up his equipment case to retrieve the Eagle 5.
He powered up the detector and crouched down by the cupboard, slowly scanning for a moment.
“This may be just what we were looking for,” he announced. “Four roughly cubic packages inside the bag, each one about the size of two cigarette cartons stuck together.”
“Jesus,” muttered Jonathan. “What else, Paul?”
“Nothing looks wired anywhere but something’s attached to each package, small boxlike shape. Could be mercury motion switches. Give me a minute.”
He went back to his equipment case and returned with the metal detector. “Definitely some metal in there but I can’t say what for now. Hang on.”
Out came another device from his toy chest.
“This is a liquid metal vapour detector,” he explained as he slowly ran the device over the bag. “It’ll tell me if there’s any mercury in there. Nope, we’re good. One last thing.”
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