by Alison Bruce
“I was just thinking that we might be creating too much of a presence in the neighbourhood.”
Carmedy looked at me blankly.
“Sorry, thinking aloud,” I said.
“You’re suggesting we should make it look like we’ve given up—draw the cat-killer into the open?”
We? Now it’s we? I didn’t voice the question. I’d take his help if he was offering.
“Yeah. We need to narrow the field.”
I reminded him about the changes I’d made in how the neighbourhood patrol worked. He saw where I was going and finished my thought.
“If they went back to the original routine, maybe we could lull the perp into a false sense of security.”
I hated the word perp, but otherwise agreed.
“That’s what I’m thinking. But I think we need to close off the park.”
“Close off the park?” he asked, eyebrows furrowed.
I smiled and nodded.
“Consider, since no suspicious vehicles appear in correspondence to the killings, we can assume the cat-killer lives in the neighbourhood and hunts on foot. If we cut off access to the park—the shortcut to everywhere—we might limit his or her territory.”
“Assuming we could close the park, we’d have to let him strike again to narrow the field.”
That was true. I had to think about this some more, and I would do that best without Carmedy staring at me. I kept wondering what he was thinking.
“We need lunch,” I announced. “I’m feeling the need for pizza. You go for pizza, and I’ll see what I can do about the park.”
Carmedy looked at me strangely.
“Shit.”
“What?” I asked.
“For a moment, you sounded just like Joe.”
11
“Coffee,” I announced to the empty room. “I need more coffee.”
What I really needed was time to gather my thoughts. The ritual of cleaning the machine, measuring the beans and water then washing the cups as the coffee brewed gave me that.
What did Carmedy mean when he said I sounded like my father? At least he didn’t say I looked like my father. Not that my father wasn’t a good looking man, and I’m not just saying that because I’m his daughter, but he wouldn’t have made an attractive woman. I think I’m attractive. I’m pretty sure Carmedy thinks so too. Sometimes it’s hard to tell.
I switched tracks.
What if the cat-killer used a microchip reader? It was a commonly available piece of technology. All the cat victims had good homes and carried electronic tags, as per animal control bylaws. Maybe returning the animals was a strange form of kindness, not an attack. What if it was all about the cats?
If I was going to ask Thorsen to close the park, I’d need more than a couple of what ifs.
An hour later, Carmedy handed me a piece of pizza and watched me take the first bite. I didn’t know why he worried. The man might be a jerk sometimes, but he knew how to order pizza. Today he got four-cheese, antipasto with pesto sauce. One bite and I felt like I was in heaven, or a really good pizzeria.
“Mmm.”
I felt a dribble of sauce on my chin. Carmedy handed me a napkin then looked at my monitor and frowned.
“Proofed the annual report?” he asked.
“Half done. Then the words started swimming.”
“Closed the park?”
“Not yet. I was following up on a few ideas about the cat-killer while you were gone. I don’t think the pet owners are relevant, only the cats. My guess is that there are more dead cats that didn’t have tags to identify their homes.”
“And you’ve corroborated this how?”
“I talked to the Humane Society. Obviously they don’t get queries from owners who don’t tag their animals, but they do get complaints about strays. Not in East Hills, though. None at all. Not for months.”
I took another bite of pizza and let Carmedy cogitate while I masticated. Then I continued.
“It isn’t proof, but it is suggestive. If we look for a dumping ground, or fresh burial locations, we might be able to narrow our focus. I also looked into getting the services of a cadaver dog. It would make the job easier, but I’m not sure the neighbourhood will spring for the expenses.”
“Fine, I’ll follow up on it this evening.”
“We both can.”
Help I could use, but I wasn’t going to have him take over my case.
“I’d rather you finish the proofing. I want to have time to go over them a last time before I go home for the holidays.”
Dropping the pizza, I forced myself to swallow, not spit my last bite.
Did he think I was incapable? Did he think at all before he spoke?
I pushed aside the pizza and my notes, called up the report and turned away from him.
“I’ll have it done soon.”
He was at my shoulder, probably at parade rest. Once a soldier always a soldier. Well, I was a cop, and I knew at least as well as he did how to check a damned report.
An incoming call forced him to go to his own desk.
“Hey, Chief.”
“Hello, Jacob. Is Kathleen with you?”
He pushed a button and Thorsen’s face appeared on my screen.
I forced a smile I didn’t feel. “I’m here, Chief. What can I do for you?”
“This isn’t business,” Thorsen said. “I’m out shopping for gifts and I want to know if your mother is currently on a diet. I want to get her some handmade chocolates, but…”
I laughed, suddenly feeling much better.
“Mum’s not dieting.”
“Well, it’s not like she needs to, but…”
“I know what you mean. She tries out every new diet anyway but not over the holidays. Or maybe she goes on a turkey and blintz diet. Who knows?”
Thorsen gave a bark of laughter, cheering me up even more.
“One other thing. Maggie made me promise I’d remind you that tomorrow night we celebrate the Yule. You and Jacob are expected at the house by six o’clock.”
My smile faded.
“I can’t. I have a cat-killer to catch. The felines of East Hills are depending on me.”
“I’ll take the stakeout,” Carmedy said. “You go to dinner.”
Thorsen heaved a sigh so heavy, I half expected the flimsies on my desk to ruffle.
“I’ll assign an extra patrol car to the area,” Thorsen said. “Both of you are expected tomorrow night. No excuses. Maggie is counting on you. The girls are counting on you. And I will send out a posse to detain and deliver you if need be.”
I sighed and the stationary did ruffle.
“Don’t disappoint me, Kathleen. This time, of all times, we need to be together. Getting through the holiday will be hard enough as it is.”
“Oh shit. Of course,” Carmedy muttered.
“I won’t disappoint you,” I said.
“I know you won’t.”
“Look, Chief, can I ask a small favour while I have you? It might help if we could close the park in the evening for a few nights. Who should I suck up to?”
“I’ll get the patrol to put up some signs tonight. You better talk to the East Hills group too.”
“Thanks, Chief.”
I cut the connection but continued to stare at the blank screen. Oh shit was right. Ever since my father started inviting his new partner to the Thorsen gathering, I only went over for Yuletide if Carmedy was out of town.
As if his ears were burning from my thoughts, Carmedy cleared his throat the way a kid might if getting the attention of a feared teacher.
“You know, there’s no reason I can’t start going over the sections of the report you’ve finished.”
I nodded. With a few keystrokes, I sent the document to his terminal.
Carmedy cleared his throat again, using the same cautious tone.
“We haven’t got a lot of time to wrap up the case of the cat-killer. Thorsen offering a patrol car made me think, if we made the perp thi
nk the police were taking over and that they were limiting themselves to the park, we might be able to set a trap.”
I looked over at him, brows furrowed. It sounded good, so why was he talking like I might bark at him?
“That means you’d have to follow up on the leads you have between now and tomorrow evening. After that, we have to look like we’re stepping back.”
“Okay.”
What the hell did he expect me to say?
“You are the one who got us into this case in the first place.” He glanced over the report on the screen. “I see you’ve done all the setup…” He did a double take. “This is really well organized.”
“Surprised?”
He winced.
“Why don’t I finish this up? The rest of the proofing too. Then you can concentrate on the East Hills case.”
I swear he was holding his breath. I didn’t get it. Then I did. I guess I had been a bit touchy. I wasn’t the only one walking on eggshells these days.
“Okay. But I still need to format the part you added.”
“It can wait a day.”
“Okay then.”
Carmedy let out his held breath, and I tried not to grin.
An hour later, Carmedy was finished. He was either more efficient or less fussy about proofing than I was. Falling back into his sergeant major mode, he asked me for an update.
I waved him over to my desk where I was working on a map of the neighbourhood. “The red x’s mark houses where dead cats showed up. The green o’s mark the most likely suspects. I added a few after my talk with the Humane Society. As you can see, the x’s are spread out but are never far very from the park. The o’s fall in two clumps.”
“What are the shaded areas?”
“Places where digging has been done in the past three months. If any of the sites had been used for cat burials, the workers would probably have found evidence. I’m also running lifetime background checks on the suspects. If they were sixteen or over and got a parking ticket, I’ll know.”
“Who have you talked into doing that?”
I bumped his shoulder with mine.
“Still a cop, Carmedy. Still have access.”
At three, Carmedy announced that he was going to take a nap. He was going out with the patrol so I could canvas my suspect pool.
“Want to use Dad’s place?” I asked.
“I’m okay on the couch.”
“It’s just that I’m about to make some phone calls.” Did that sound bossy or whiny? “Or I can work upstairs if you prefer.”
He gave me a strange look like, Who is this woman and what did you do with Kate Garrett? I was wondering the same thing.
“I’ll take you up on your offer. Thank you.”
Getting along was exhausting.
“Shall I call you in a couple of hours?”
“Just in case I don’t wake up?” He grinned. “Not bloody likely. In the army I learned how to sleep for exactly as long as I gave myself, and not a minute longer.”
I shrugged and turned back to my work, trying not to look at Carmedy’s backside as he went up the stairs. Giving myself a mental shake, I told myself that looking was natural. By the time I allowed myself to appreciate the view, Carmedy was gone. Then I wondered, again, if I should offer the place to him. He might be able to live with the ghosts better than I could.
Speaking of ghosts, I had some reading to do. As soon as I got my calls out of the way, I curled up on the couch with a tablet
12
Joe Garrett’s Audio File Transcript
It’s good to be working with Vince again. Marten had a family emergency and a homicide came up. Jewelry store heist gone wrong. There’s something kinky about it. Just the kind of case I like to get my hands on.
Marten is smartening up. She’s letting Women in Crisis do the social work and acting as backup in case things go south with the husband. I’m betting something happened at home that gave her a wakeup call. Maybe she realizes that other people depend on her to stay alive.
I’ve got Kate to remind me. She’s already turning into a decent detective. I gave her a robbery scenario from my rookie detective days and she suspected fraud after the first read-through. Campbell and I pegged it for an inside job, but didn’t see it was fraud until later.
I remembered that scenario. At the time I felt like I was the smartest kid on the planet. Later I realized that my father had given me a clue that there was something unusual about the case. I just had to figure out what it was. He was better at faking me out by the time he told me about the jewellery heist.
In any case, I wasn’t reading this to find out how proud my father was. I’d do that later. I skimmed down until I found a reference to Marten. It wasn’t very long.
Damn! Why do they go back? I’ve got to touch base with Marten and makes sure she doesn’t do anything stupid. Vince and I are preparing the jewelry store case for the arraignment. I can’t hold her hand through this.
I assumed he was referring to Irene going back to her husband. Most people don’t get why the abused went back to their abusers. They think in terms of verbal and physical assault. Assault can be traumatic, but it doesn’t twist the victim inside, making them feel that they don’t deserve anything better. That’s what abuse did.
There were a few rants against rookie detectives who get too emotionally involved interspersed throughout the murder case notes which was generously peppered with rants against people who felt they were entitled by status and education to ride roughshod over other people.
Coming from a long line of beat cops and factory workers, my father’s metaphorical collar was as blue as they came.
I skimmed ahead.
“…Detective Marten and I are responding to an urgent personal plea from Mrs. Collins. She is trapped in the house. Evidently, she went back for her cat, not to stay, but her husband caught her. We’re leaving Mohr outside as backup, and tactical is on alert for the worst case.”
“Do you always have a backup recorder running?”
“Not always. Forget about it. Keep your head in the game.”
Bingo!
< Noise >
“Mrs. Collins?…Irene?
< Noise >
“Irene? Are you in there?”
< 8 seconds >
< Noise >
< Noise >
Maybe a text transcript wasn’t the best idea. Either that or I needed a more intuitive program. At least it timed the pauses, but I wondered if there were clues to what was happening in the apparent silence.
< Bang >
It actually interpreted that.
< Noise >
But not that.
“We might as well go in now.”
I’d bet lunch at Helios that was my father and he wasn’t happy with Marten. Was she the one that shot? Or did she kick in the door after hearing a shot?
I continued reading.
< 6 seconds >
“Clear.”
< 10 seconds >
< Bang >
“Step away from Irene, Mr. Collins. Now!”
“You have no right to enter my home without a warrant. This isn’t the 2010s.”
“Calm down, Mr. Collins. We came at your wife’s invitation. We didn’t enter until we heard the gunshot, which gave us reasonable cause. Now we find your wife on the floor with 2 big nails through her skirt.”
“I was fixing a floor board. The stupid bitch got in my way.”
“That’s just…”
“Enough, Marten. Mr. Collins, please place the nail gun on the floor.”
“Fuck off!”
“Now, Mr. Collins. While you are armed with a potentially deadly weapon, Marten might think you pose a danger. One wrong move—or something hinting of a wrong move—and she not only could shoot you, she’d be obligated to do so.”
< 3 seconds >
“Seriously.”
That’s my dad. He always waited a three-count before adding, “Seriously.”
Seri
ously.
< Noise >
< Noise >
“Stay down, Mr. Collins, on your knees, hands laced behind your head. Leave Mrs. Collins for now, Marten. Cuff Mr. Collins while I cover him.”
< Noise >
“Mohr? We could use your help now. Marten, watch out! Collins, no!”
< Bang >
“Put the gun down. The next shot is going to go between your eyes.”
“I’ll kill her first. Put your gun down and I’ll let go of your partner. I’ll keep her gun until I’m safely away. You can even keep my bitch of a wife. Just lower your gun.”
“Not going to happen.”
< 3 seconds >
“Now, Mr. Collins.”
< Noise >
“Ah, shit.”
< Bang >
< Bang bang>
< Noise >
< Noise >
< Grunt >
“What the Sam hell! Joe?” That had to be Mohr.
< Jingle >
Jingle? What the hell was that?
“Get a compress on Joe’s wound. Now, Detective! Bloody rookies.”
< Grunt >
“You can’t leave me like this.”
“Stay still. Your body weight is pushing that compress into your wound. Move and you’ll bleed out.”
< Grunt >
“Dispatch 10-52, officer down. Suspect wounded. 10-55 went south.”
< Noise >
“Joe Garrett. GSW to hip.”
< Noise >
“Yeah, Joe. Tell Thorsen.”
< Noise >
“Two GSW just below the shoulder. Looks like Joe got him in the arm too.”
< Noise >
“I’ll check. I’ll take over with Joe. You better put a dressing on Collins. Maybe you can get Mrs. Collins to stop keening too.”