The Detective Lane Casebook #1

by Garry Ryan

  Mrs. Dakin stopped Lane with another glare. She lifted the boy up and sat him on her knee. “It’s okay, Sammy. You just tell us what you saw and we’ll listen.”

  Lane thought, This teacher knows what she’s doing.

  And, she’s a tiger.

  Sammy looked out the window and put his hands on Mrs. Dakin’s arm. “We were playing on the monkey bars. I was at the top. I looked for Cole. He was running up the hill. He went to the top of the hill, and the man picked him up. Cole looked back at me and waved. I think he was smiling. Then, they were gone.”

  “Do you remember anything else about the man?”

  Mrs. Dakin asked.

  “Black hair,” Sammy said.

  Mrs. Dakin said, “Thank you, Sammy. The boys and girls in class are worried about you. Can you go back and show them you’re okay?”

  “Okay.” he squirmed off her lap and went out the door.

  “If he tells us any more, I’ll call you. Have you got a card?” Mrs. Dakin asked.

  Lane and Harper handed her their cards.

  “I need to talk with you about Cole,” Mrs. Dakin said.

  “This is not the proper time,” Mr. O’Malley said.

  Mrs. Dakin said, “I couldn’t agree less. I’ve been concerned about Cole for some time now.”

  Lane asked, “How’s that?”

  “His mother often takes him to the doctor. He goes to the doctor feeling well and comes back to class not feeling very well at all. Also, he has drawn some worrisome pictures of what’s been happening to the family dog.”

  “Mrs. Reddie is a respected member of the community and a good Christian!” Mr. O’Malley said.

  “So? It’s Cole I’m worried about. He’s been withdrawing inside himself,” Mrs. Dakin said.

  “Mrs. Dakin!” O’Malley said.

  “Oh shut up, Jack! The old church code of hiding the ugly truths isn’t going to save this child!” Mrs. Dakin said.

  “The child’s upset because his sister and father are dead!” O’Malley said.

  “Cole was like this before his sister died! I’ve never seen a child so devoid of hope!” Mrs. Dakin glared at each of the men in turn.

  Harper looked at Lane who was transfixed by what Mrs. Dakin was saying.

  “I’ve been doing this for a lot of years,” Mrs. Dakin said. “There’s something wrong with the way that mother treats her son. What are you going to do about it?”

  “Go home! Mrs. Dakin take the rest of the day off!

  You’re hysterical! Get out of my office!” O’Malley wiped the spit from his lips.

  There was pounding on the door. It opened.

  “Where’s my Cole!” Bobbie cried.

  A camera light glared over her shoulder.

  Lane squinted and put his hand up to shade his eyes.

  A reporter asked, “Any comment detective?”

  It was ten o’clock. Martha watched the news with Lane. She sat across from him, wrapped in a comforter. Her greying hair reached to her shoulders. Martha turned her thinning face to Lane. The latest saga of the Reddie story appeared on television. Riley lay between them on the floor.

  The voice-over said, “It appears that Bobbie Reddie’s son was abducted today. Ms. Reddie went to her son’s school to demand answers.”

  The camera had caught Lane. He raised his hand to protect his eyes from the intense lights.

  The camera turned to Bobbie. She asked, “Where’s my boy? What have you done with my son? How could you let my Cole disappear? Haven’t I been through enough?” Bobbie spotted Mrs. Dakin who watched Bobbie warily. “I want my son!”

  The face of a twenty-something blond reporter appeared. “As yet, there is no news concerning the whereabouts of Cole Reddie, Ms. Reddie’s sole-surviving child. This is Alena Zarena for V Channel News.”

  Lane pressed the remote. The screen went black.

  “My, my, my,” Martha said.

  “What?” Lane asked.

  “Bobbie keeps saying “My.” It’s odd, that’s all.” Martha shifted her body. She winced with pain.

  “You all right?” Lane asked.

  “They had to start the chemotherapy too soon after the mastectomy. The cancer’s too far along. The doctor said we have to pull out all the stops. God told me to listen to the doctor.”

  “How come it was left so long?” Lane asked.

  “Alex, my husband, said the lump was nothing. He said God would take care of me. Then I found out he was sleeping with someone from the church. That’s when we came here. God told me to bring Matt here and go to the hospital.”

  Lane looked at Riley. The retriever wagged his tail and yawned. “Arthur said the lawyer called today.”

  “Yes. He said Alex is threatening to take Matt away if I ask for half of his assets. I prayed, and God told me to take the bastard for all he’s worth!” Martha said.

  Riley closed one eye and cocked his head to the right to get a better look at Martha. The dog licked his lips.

  Lane thought, Matt, you’ve really got your hands full. A mother who talks with God, a father who uses you as a bargaining chip, and a pair of uncles who are an abomination before the Lord.

  “I know what you’re thinking. You think I’m making it up about talking with God.”

  “You know, it’s very dangerous to try and read someone else’s mind,” Lane said.

  “What are you going to do about the child?”

  Martha asked.

  “You mean Matt?” Lane asked.

  Martha smiled, “Well, now that you mention it, him too.”

  “Lane! Wake up! You’re having a nightmare!” Arthur said.

  Lane opened his eyes. He could feel his heart pounding. His ears were ringing with a child’s screams. The child had been behind a locked door. Lane had used his heel to kick the solid-core door open. The screams stopped. Lane reached for a light switch. The child was on the wall. Nails had been driven though its hands and feet. Blood dripped onto a green garbage bag on the floor.

  “Lane?” Arthur said.

  Tuesday, October 27

  Chapter 19

  “SO, ALL WE’VE got is a big mess,” Harper said.

  They sat across from one another at the Kensington coffee shop. Bryan, as usual, was getting them a second cup.

  “The Police Commission is questioning the chief.

  Cole’s teacher, Mrs. Dakin, gets a week off—maybe more—so she can be the scapegoat. Bobbie has an alibi; she was at work. It looked like we were building a case against her. Now, it looks like our case might be down the toilet,” Harper said.

  “Go ahead. Say I told you so.” Lane’s mind was fuzzy from lack of sleep.

  “You boys look a little worse for wear.” Bryan slid their new coffees over and took the empty mugs.

  “You don’t know the half of it,” Harper said.

  “I watch TV. I know some of it,” Bryan said.

  “Like what?” Harper asked.

  “I know you’ve got this town talkin’,” Bryan said.

  “That’s for sure.” Harper cocked his head in the direction of a nearby table. A patron held up the newspaper.

  The headline screamed BOBBIE’S SON ABDUCTED.

  Lane looked outside. “We’ve got to get in touch with Jay.”

  Rush hour traffic was lighter now. The sun had been down for at least an hour. Lane looked across the street and waited for the crosswalk light to change.

  Harper looks as bad as I feel, Lane thought.

  “I thought yesterday was bad. Today we accomplished nothing. It seems like the whole case has dried up. Jay’s lawyer, Tommy Pham, isn’t gonna help, we can’t find out who Pham works for, and the DNA tests won’t be in for at least another day. Man, this is getting really depressing.” Harper stood next to his partner on the street corner.

  Lane shook his head. Harper was right.

  “You’ve got a hockey game tonight?” Harper asked.

  “Martha’s coming,” Lane said.

  “How
’s she doing?” Harper asked.

  “I’m not too sure.”

  The light turned green. They stepped into the crosswalk. “At least the game will be a distraction,” Harper said.

  Lane took a couple of quick turns on the fresh ice before setting the nets down and making sure everything was in place. He glanced over to the end of the rink where the Zamboni was parked in its garage on the other side of the boards. The rink attendant, Cheryl, gave a wave. Lane waved back and looked into the stands. Arthur and Martha sat side by side. They were deep in conversation and gave him no notice.

  Behind them, Mac wore his black leather coat and leaned against the railing with one leather-gloved hand over the other. Mac wore a pair of sunglasses and turned his head to glare at Lane while Matt lead the team onto the ice.

  Again, Lane was the only referee. Matt played his usual shutout style till there were less than ten minutes to go. After an icing call, the face-off was in Matt’s end. Lane dropped the puck, and the centre fed it back to his defenceman who one-timed a shot in the general direction of the net. The puck should have gone wide. Lane watched it deflect off a defenceman’s foot. Matt lunged, stumbled, and dove for the puck. It tipped off the end of his trapper and dribbled over the line. Lane pointed and blew the whistle to indicate a goal.

  A cheer erupted from the opposing players’ bench.

  Lane leaned over to get the puck.

  The defenceman said to Matt, “Sorry, man.”

  Matt said, “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Hey goalie! You’re useless!”

  Lane looked up into the crowd. Arthur was looking over his shoulder. Martha stood up.

  Mac said, “No wonder we can’t win a game. We got a fudge-packer for a ref, and Quasimodo in net!”

  Lane skated toward the boards.

  Martha stood one row down from Mac. Mac looked down at her and laughed. Even with her winter coat on, she looked like she weighed less than Mac’s leather coat. She reached up to grab Mac’s sleeve.

  “Let go, bitch!” Mac reached down and grabbed a handful of Martha’s hair.

  The arena was suddenly and completely silent.

  Cheryl ran along the aisle at the top of the stands.

  Martha pulled away.

  A handful of hair came out in Mac’s hand. He held the dangling trophy and smiled. “Nice hair, bitch!”

  Lane skated to the gate and opened it.

  Arthur moved in between Martha and Mac.

  Lane watched Mac swing a fist that hit Arthur in the face.

  “Hurry up!” Matt pushed Lane from behind.

  Lane climbed the steps.

  Arthur fell to one knee and cupped his hands to hold the blood from his nose.

  Mac cocked his arm to strike again, but Cheryl grabbed him from behind.

  Mac sank to his knees.

  Cheryl held his right hand back at an awkward angle. She looked at Lane, “Call the cops.”

  “Do you want me to take him?” Lane asked.

  “You know Hapkido?” Cheryl asked.

  “No.” Lane thought, She’s got this under control.

  “Then you’d better call,” she said.

  Mac said, “What did I do? The bitch came after me! I got a right to defend myself.”

  “Shut up.” Cheryl put more pressure on Mac’s wrist.

  “Shit! You’re hurting me!” Mac looked up at Lane.

  “Do something! She’s breaking my arm!”

  Lane looked at Mac’s face. His eyes were invisible behind the sunglasses. His cheeks were clean-shaven.

  Mac looked inconsequential on his knees.

  Mac said, “Man, you saw it. I had to defend myself.

  Those two came after me! It was me or them!”

  Lane shook his head and looked back at Arthur. Martha held a wad of bloody Kleenex to his nose. There was a bare patch on the side of Martha’s head where Mac had pulled her hair out.

  “You okay?” Cheryl said to Martha.

  “Chemo,” Martha said.

  “Had a mastectomy ten years ago, and I’m still around. Smokin’ weed helps with the nausea,” Cheryl said as if their present circumstances were more like a discussion over coffee in the kitchen than a brawl in an arena.

  “What the fuck are you talkin’ about?” Mac asked.

  “Breast cancer, you asshole!” Cheryl said.

  Lane looked around and spotted a woman who was talking on her cellphone. She nodded at Lane, “I’ve got the police on the line.”

  Mac said, “The cops won’t do a thing to me! I didn’t do anything! I’m the victim here!”

  Lane turned back to the man, “Since neither of them retaliated, it’s not a consensual fight. Quite simply, it’s assault. I’m looking forward to saying that in court. You might even get some jail time when she—”

  Lane pointed at Martha— “testifies. By then she will have no hair at all. Bet it’ll even make the papers. Big Mac beats up on a woman with cancer. Your face will be on the news. You’ll be famous around town! With any luck, the story will go national.”

  “Whose side are you on, man?” Mac asked.

  Lane thought, Typical bully. Play the victim. Lane closed his eyes and saw Bobbie pushing her way into the principal’s office. He heard Martha’s voice saying, “My, my, my,” when she heard Bobbie on television. He saw Mac hitting Arthur in the face, then Mac playing the victim. He saw the look of terror in Cole’s eyes. Then, he remembered the nightmare with the crucified child. The flash of insight made him shake his head, take a breath, and open his eyes just so he could be sure he was still in the arena. Finally, he thought, I know exactly what kind of game Bobbie is playing.

  Wednesday, October 28

  Chapter 20

  HARPER SAID, “SO Arthur’s got a pair of black eyes, Martha’s lost a chunk of hair, and the rink rat is offering advice on smokin’ weed while holdin’ this guy in a Hapkido death grip! Then the guys in uniform show up. They couldn’t wait to tell their story when they got back downtown. You really know how to get everyone talkin’. I mean this one made its way around the city in record time. Bet the chief’s even heard it by now. The guy who thumped Arthur is still in jail! Hear he almost fainted when he found out you were a cop!” He started to laugh, again.

  “Especially when I reminded him of what he’d called me.” Lane smiled.

  “What?” Harper asked, immediately serious.

  “Fudge-packer.”

  “That’s not funny,” Harper said.

  “You didn’t see his face.” Lane began to chuckle. “Always wanted to do that. You know, tell some macho man I was a cop after he made a homophobic remark. It felt great!”

  “You two look a lot happier this morning.” Bryan slid their Kensington coffees onto the table.

  “Oh, our lives are still in the toilet,” Harper said.

  A customer called Bryan’s name and he left.

  “Maybe not,” Lane said.

  “How so?” Harper asked.

  “Bobbie’s still our prime suspect. We just have to find Cole,” Lane said.

  “Lately we haven’t had good luck finding live ones, in case you hadn’t noticed,” Harper said.

  “There’s something different about this disappearance. Think about it. Cole wasn’t dragged away kicking and screaming. Cole went up that big hill to meet the person who took him away. It’s almost like Cole was being rescued. And Bobbie’s going wild. She was calm and cool when Kaylie disappeared. This time, she’s pounding on doors and bringing TV cameras. We need to get some answers from Jay. He seems to know the most about this case.”

  “What about Charles’ sister, Denise?” Harper asked.

  “Right now, Jay’s our best lead, and he’s hard to find,” Lane said.

  “That’s why Steve is coming to meet us,” Harper said.

  “Steve?”

  “Steve Nguyen. He knows all there is to know about the Vietnamese community. He’ll have some answers. He’ll know who the lawyer, Tommy Pham, works
for,” Harper said.

  Bryan slid a couple of cinnamon buns onto the table. “On the house.”

  “Nice,” Harper said.

  Lane pulled out a ten dollar bill. “Sorry, we have to pay.”

  “It’s a special today. Free cinnamon buns.” Bryan looked around the coffee shop.

  Lane looked over his shoulder. The husband and wife near the fireplace were buttering their cinnamon buns and smiling at Bryan.

  “Thanks,” Harper said.

  Lane’s face reddened as he shoved the bill back in his pocket.

  “Uncle Tran,” Bryan said.

  “What?” Lane asked.

  “Tommy Pham works for Uncle Tran. Everybody knows that,” Bryan said.

  “You know this guy?” Harper asked.

  Bryan said, “My parents think he’s some kind of saint. Came to Canada before the Vietnamese boatpeople started to arrive from the refugee camps. Helped get them settled. Got them places to live. Paid for their education. One of the first kids he put through school was Tommy Pham. Now Tommy handles all of Uncle Tran’s legal matters. Come on guys, you didn’t notice I’m Asian?” Bryan smiled and turned his head so they could better appreciate his profile.

  Harper laughed.

  Lane asked, “You know where we can find Uncle Tran?”

  “Lucky Elephant Restaurant. In Chinatown. Look for the shortest guy there. It’ll be Uncle Tran. But treat him with respect. I’m not kidding. Man’s a saint,”

  Bryan said.

  A uniformed officer entered the coffee shop. “Here’s Steve,” Harper said.

  Lane watched as recognition washed over Bryan’s face. He smiled at Steve. Lane thought, Bryan and Steve are well acquainted.

  Steve, dressed in his blues, was more than six feet tall. His black hair was cut close. He adjusted the pistol on his hip and made no indication he knew Bryan.

  “Good to see you, man.” Harper shook hands with Steve. “This is Lane.”

  Harper smiled at Steve who did not smile back.

  “Lane,” Steve said and shook hands with Lane before sitting down.

  “Want a coffee?” Bryan asked.

  “Black.” Steve didn’t look at Bryan.

  Lane took it all in, sat back, and watched Steve as Bryan left. Steve really has his back up about something, Lane thought.