Disposable Souls

by Phonse Jessome

“I know, Sergeant. Sorry, I mean Carla. It scares me, too. But we’ll win. We’ll bag this animal and lock him away. I’m just trying to figure out if it’s the same animal. You heard Dr. Ian.”

  “I think he’s wrong. Too much of a coincidence, despite the obvious violence in the second murder. These victims are linked in a way that suggests one killer or group of killers,” she said.

  “Blair, what about you?”

  “Hard to say, partner. I went into the park believing they were connected. Haven’t felt anything strong enough to shake that. I’m not sure what Dr. Ian said rules it out. I mean, couldn’t the first killer have suffered a psychotic break off the first kill and become more vicious?” Blair tossed an empty paper cup into a nearby trash can.

  “Makes sense, I guess, but I think maybe we’ve got two killers. What happened in the park felt like there was something bigger. Like the killer was releasing something he couldn’t contain. Gardner was more like a clean kill and a calculated body dump. Not the same.”

  “Hmm, I wish he’d released something at the scene. At least we’d have a sample. I do get the feeling he got off on it, though,” Carla said.

  She walked away to take a seat near the front of the room where she’d be carrying the weight on the forensic side of the team briefing. We watched her go. I wasn’t sure if she was disappointed, but the second body meant she’d been taken off the management team. Her talent at a crime scene was more important than what she might have done working directly under MacIntosh, coordinating the investigation.

  “Hey, you remember that notation you didn’t actually see in Gardner’s appointment book?” Blair asked.

  “You mean the lyric? ‘My sweet lord.’” I hadn’t given it any thought in the past twenty-four hours.

  “Yeah. Remember it wasn’t finished; you said it was ‘my sweet lo,’ right?”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “Was the ‘lo’ capitalized?”

  “I think so, not sure. What are you getting at?”

  “What if it wasn’t a lyric? Take a look at this.” He had folded his newspaper into a square, and the only thing showing was a quarter-page ad for The Fog Bank. The picture showed a dancer in a sexed-up schoolgirl outfit. She stood pouting at the camera in patent-leather platforms. Her white stockings came to an end about six inches south of a plaid skirt that would give the nuns at Sacred Heart fits. Her white blouse was tied at the navel. If it had buttons, they were probably never used. A teddy bear hung from her left hand. Sweet Lo is back, was the headline topping the ad.

  “Thin,” I said.

  “Maybe. No thinner than a preacher writing George Harrison lyrics. Besides, if he was into kiddy porn, why not a dancer who looks like a little girl? We have to check her out.” The grin was back on his face; it felt good to see it.

  “She’s not a little girl, Blair. I don’t think Gardner was dumb enough to get tied up with a stripper. Too much risk.” Still, no cop worth the badge would ignore a coincidence. I knew the dancer would be Stallion property and didn’t want to rock that boat any more than I already had. I still needed Snake to help me with the video. Trying to draw one of his girls into this mess would not help.

  “Let’s kick it around after the briefing,” I said as I watched Inspector MacIntosh make a move to the front of the room.

  Traffic crawled past on the Bedford Highway below the window. The briefing was over, and Inspector MacIntosh ordered me to stay behind. He was playing head games now, making me wait until he had time to talk.

  A white 1957 Chevy pulled into the lot of the old diner beside the mall. The Chickenburger is a magnet for the classic car crowd. Seeing the ’57 roll to a stop at the edge of the lot was a harbinger of summer. When the custom cars return to the street, you know winter is gone. I watched the driver pop the hood to show off a chrome-accented eight cylinder. They’d been serving chickenburgers down there for seventeen years before that car rolled off the line in Detroit.

  “Neville, let’s go.”

  I followed MacIntosh into a small corner office. He pointed at a chair across from his desk as he took a seat. I leaned against the door frame. I didn’t want to close the door. Blair, Carla, and a few other detectives were working the phones and going over the early evidence reports, and I didn’t want them thinking I was on the mat already. MacIntosh pulled a small yellow square of paper from his desk blotter. There wasn’t much else on the desk. He held it up to me without saying a word. I didn’t think he was taking phone messages for me now, but I stepped over and took it. It had a name and a number. I dropped it onto the desktop and returned to the door jamb to wait for the lecture.

  MacIntosh placed his elbows on the desk and formed a hand teepee that covered his nose. He rested his chin on his thumbs, giving me a studious look. I’d bet he practised the move. His hands were thick, meaty claws, but even they couldn’t hide that massive head. The horse tattoo on his left forearm danced a little as he flexed. I tried to picture him in the saddle guiding a horse through the choreographed poetry of the musical ride. Couldn’t see it. Probably bullied his way onto the team. I waited.

  “I want to hear your side of this before I decide what to do, but let me ask you first, do you have any idea who Luke Weathers is?”

  People kept asking me that.

  “No.”

  “No idea whatsoever then?” He peered over the top of his fingertips. I couldn’t see through his hands, but I got the impression he was hiding a smile. I felt like I was stepping into a minefield.

  “I know he’s an asshole who tried to interfere with our investigation. I warned him off, didn’t think we needed to charge him, but I’ll do the paperwork if you think I should.” I didn’t bother covering my smile. He leaned back.

  “Maybe you should try that. We could all use some comic relief right about now. Tell me, did you swear at Mr. Weathers and force him to walk around Point Pleasant Park unnecessarily?” He leaned forward, back into his teepee.

  “That sounds about right, but I’m not sure why we’re talking about this shit with two murders to solve.” Fuck Mr. Weathers and Inspector MacIntosh.

  “Watch your tone, Detective. I am your commanding officer here, and don’t you forget it.” The teepee was gone, and he was standing now, trying to intimidate with his size. Had probably worked for him in the past. It wasn’t working now. He sat on the edge of his desk.

  “For your benefit, Luke Weathers is a senior partner in Weathers Mann Oakley. I’m sure you’ve heard of the firm.”

  Hard not to, they had their hands in everything in this city. Sometimes Halifax is more like a small town than a small city. I still didn’t care.

  “He is also a close friend of both the premier and the prime minister,” he continued. “The mayor has been trying to get into that club. Having you suspended might get him inside the door. I’m sure he is having that chat with the chief right now.” He didn’t hide the smile now.

  “Won’t happen. Now, can we talk about assignments? I thought that was what this was about. Don’t really have the time for politics, Inspector.” My smile was back. It was hard to keep it there. I knew I’d hear from the chief, but I wouldn’t let MacIntosh think I was worried. He moved back around the desk. I figured he’d tell me to find the guy who fed the feral cats in the park. It was what he told Blair to do during the briefing, and I was pretty sure he’d keep us together.

  “Your lack of professionalism is exactly why you never made the grade with us. It will cost you your career at some point. You will self-destruct. But let me tell you, it won’t happen on this detail. One more report like this, and you are off the case. I don’t care what the chief says. I am the lead, and the decision will be mine.”

  I had nothing for him. He’d either can me or not. I waited.

  “In the meantime, I think you can be of some limited use.” Time for the cat man.

  “I understand you
r club has a special ride set for tomorrow. I want you on it.”

  I hadn’t seen that coming. Didn’t like it. Liked his calling it “my club” even less.

  “You may want to run that past the chief.” I stood away from the door frame. I hoped my body kept the guys in the room from hearing the conversation. “He wants me to keep my distance. Besides, I don’t see how it can help the case.”

  “I decide what is germane to the case, and I assign assets as I see fit.” He was on his feet again, and not leaning on the desk. He was in my face now. “You will go on that ride and you will get a copy of the security tape. You will also find out what that gang of criminals knows about the murder of Sandy Gardner. Buddy up to your buddies. Is that too difficult an assignment, Detective?”

  His face was red, his breath coming in short bursts, his temper barely in check. I tried to slow my own breathing. I smiled. He was trying to push me into a move the way I’d tried with Bobby Simms. He reddened more, his fists closing as he took in my smile. Well, fuck you, Inspector.

  “You want me to ride, I’ll ride. Might give me a chance to check on Bobby Simms. He rides with a Christian club now.” I turned to leave. He put a hand on my shoulder.

  “You stay away from Simms. You heard the briefing. Special O and the QRT have him in a box now. Don’t you spook him.”

  The Special O unit was the RCMP surveillance team, QRT was ours. They were pros. Bobby would have eyes on him at all times as long as they were told to keep him in the box. The idea was to wait and watch until he screwed up the way killers always do. It made sense, finally. Bobby wasn’t getting a free ride after all.

  “Whatever you say, Inspector, but I know Bobby, and if I don’t try to question him he’ll know something is wrong.”

  He ran a meaty paw through that close-cropped hair and turned away.

  “Fine, push him a little. But just for show, are we clear?” He turned back to me.

  “Absolutely. If he starts to confess I’ll walk away.” That’s exactly what I did before he had the chance to respond.

  I headed out past the other detectives. I skipped the elevators for the stairs. I needed to burn off a little adrenaline. Greg stepped into the hall from a door just beyond the stairs. I only have one younger brother, but I was beginning to wonder if maybe he was triplets. Maybe his direct link to the big guy allowed him to be everywhere at once.

  “Hey, Cam, I just called your house. Now I see why I didn’t get an answer.” His smile lightened my load. Always did.

  “Hey, Greg, it’s nice to see you without a dead body in the way. What brings you here?” I saw pain spread across his face. Both bodies were people he knew well. “Sorry, Greg.”

  “It’s okay. I’m here because of those deaths. I’ve set up a temporary chaplaincy office here, so I can be available to the task force.”

  “Why were you calling me?”

  “Are you heading home?” Catholic priests, always a question where an answer belongs.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you have time for a coffee downstairs? I hear it’s good.”

  “Sure, and it is. Let’s walk down.” I realized I had time, and couldn’t for the life of me understand how that could be. The first forty-eight hours in any murder case are critical. I was working two, and MacIntosh had me benched for the night.

  “Sure. Your treat.” The smile was back.

  “My treat? You sound like Blair.”

  The Second Cup coffee shop sits in the corner of the food court in the mall beneath the office. In truth, the place had nothing in common with a food court. Instead of cardboard pizza slices and grease dripping combo platters, it offered fresh pasta made on-site, sushi that you could actually eat, gourmet pizza that lived up to the billing, and a menu of hearty sandwiches made fresh at a deli counter. A traditional British greengrocer and butcher shop topped it off. Nothing but the best for Bedford. I realized I was hungry as we walked through. I was getting past the image of Thelma Waters.

  Greg walked up to order first. I told the tattooed blonde flirting with him from behind the cash register I’d have the same. Blair stopped here every time we were in Bedford. He usually made sure I paid, so I didn’t fall over when she asked for twelve dollars for the two drinks. I like coffee, but I can never understand how tossing in a little steamed milk and calling it a latte more than tripled the price. I tossed a toonie into the glass tip jar in front of the cash register.

  Fourteen dollars lighter, I headed to the end of the counter where Greg was now smiling at the barista working the handles on the steaming coffee machine. She was an attractive twenty-something with long brown hair and a clear complexion that she did not hide with makeup. She had that natural beauty that made you think of horseback riding and hayfields—maybe haylofts. I waited for her to flirt with Greg. Blair insisted she was in love with him. The fourteen dollars would be money well spent if I could tell him he’d lost her to a priest. She looked from Greg to me, and a small laugh slipped past her white teeth.

  “I had no idea there were two of you.” Her deep brown eyes locked with mine for a heartbeat, and then she turned her attention back to Greg. “I’m not sure who is cuter.” She handed him two large cups.

  “I’m spoken for.” He raised one of the cups to his collar. “He’s not.” He handed me the other cup.

  “Good to know.” She laughed again before turning to fill the next order coming from the blonde bandit at the cash.

  We took a table near a glass door that led outside to a patio. The tables out there were full. Another sign that winter was behind us. I sipped my coffee and almost spit it out. I drink my coffee the right way, black. This tasted like a piece of cake run through a blender.

  “What is this?” I asked as I placed it on the table.

  “Soy, gingerbread latte,” he said as he sipped his own. “Great, isn’t it?”

  I took another sip. It wasn’t great, but I knew there was probably caffeine in there, so I stayed with it.

  “You should give her your card.” He nodded to the steam cloud rising above the coffee machines.

  “A little young.” I took another small sip.

  “You mean younger than all the other women you’ve been spending time with?” He looked over the top of his cup.

  “I mean she’s young. I didn’t know matchmaking was part of the vocation, Greg.”

  “It’s not. I just worry about you. It’s part of what I wanted to talk about yesterday. The things I learned on the Camino.” He put the cup down, and my little brother suddenly looked years older.

  “Tell me about it.” I knew he wanted to, and I needed the distraction.

  “The further into the walk I got, the more I thought of you and Lee.” Using Gunner’s real name. This was going to be a serious chat.

  “I thought it was about reconnecting with God or your faith.”

  “So did I. But I spent two days walking with a man from Northern Spain. Javier is seventy-eight, and he walks all or a portion of the Camino every year. He told me to empty my mind of any preconceptions. To let the Camino speak to me.” He took another sip. I did the same. It was beginning to grow on me.

  “At first, I didn’t understand, but a few days later you joined me on the walk.”

  “Don’t tell me you had visions out there, Greg.” I wasn’t sure I was ready for this.

  “No, no. I mean thoughts of you, and later Lee too, filled my mind.”

  “If you plan to have this chat with him, you might want to stick with Gunner, and spike the coffee.” I didn’t want to arrest my older brother for slugging my younger brother.

  “His name is Lee, and that’s part of it. I didn’t know him when he was Lee. You did.”

  “Same guy, just younger and without a nickname.”

  “I’m sure that’s true to a degree, but I’m just as sure he wasn’t exactly the same, nor w
ere you. We were separated for all of my childhood, and I want some of that back. The three of us need it. If you hadn’t lost yourself after the war, we wouldn’t even have a relationship now.” He waited for me to say something.

  I wasn’t sure what he wanted. You can’t go back in time. It wasn’t my fault he was taken in by our grandparents. Hell, Gunner and I resented him for it. Maybe he resented us for having each other.

  “I’m not sure where you’re going with this, Greg.”

  “I’m trying to do something for all of us. Something else Javier told me about the Camino: it lets you time travel. When you relax into the walk, surrender to it, you can send your mind ahead in time and meet yourself on the same road. When you meet your older self, you weigh your own future regrets. You then promise to do what you can to lift that burden for yourself.”

  “You’re getting a little metaphysical on me here, Greg. Remember, I went to cop school, not a seminary.”

  “It’s simple, Cam, I let my mind wander. When I met my older self, his only regret was not having a close relationship with his brothers. I believe you and Lee will both feel the same way some day. I want to remove that regret for all of us. That’s why I want the three of us to ride out to the graveyard tomorrow. We need to forgive our parents for the childhood we didn’t have.”

  I could see he was serious. This mattered to him, and I owed him. If he hadn’t come into my life when he did, I was pretty sure I’d be in that same graveyard. It was what I wanted then.

  “Well, as it turns out I’m going on the run, so let’s see if we can drag Lee away.”

  Saturday was going to be a breeze. All I had to do was get Snake to co-operate with the police, and convince Gunner to do a little chemical-free time travel with his older self. What could possibly go wrong?

  Chapter 7

  Blair and Carla stepped into the elevator outside the briefing room and headed down to the parking garage beneath the mall. Blair pushed the button and wondered if he should grab a mint from his jacket pocket. Donair always tastes better the first time. It seems to get stronger as it comes back on you. He should have listened to Cam.