The door opened and a tall man in a white lab coat entered. “I’m Dr. Grange,” he said, without looking at Drumm. Leaving the door open, he moved to the other side of the examination table and put his hands on the dog. The vet put his head down and started feeling under his neck. He proceeded to give the Sheltie a thorough examination, looking in his mouth and feeling his legs. The whole time he was doing this, all that Drumm could see was the top of the vet’s head, a full head of black hair and his hands, which were wearing gloves. That was a bit odd – his usual vet didn’t wear gloves – but in a dump like this, it was probably a good idea.
“Everything seems to be fine,” said the vet, still without looking at Drumm. “Although his teeth could use a good cleaning. There’s some decay starting to happen there.” Dr. Grange straightened up and for the first time looked at Drumm. He suddenly became very still as he stared at the detective.
Drumm noticed that the vet’s eyes were watchful and watery blue. The man was obviously Caucasian but his skin was darker than normal, like he’d been using a tanning salon. Drumm tried to look at the vet’s gloved hands but they were out of sight, held behind his back. It was an unusual posture for the man to adopt, Drumm thought, like he was waiting for something. The whole situation was strange and Drumm was suddenly on high alert. Something wasn’t right here. “Aren’t you going to give him his shot?” he asked calmly. “That’s why we’re here.”
“Of course,” said Dr. Grange, and he turned to get something off the counter behind him.
For the first time, Drumm realized that Dr. Grange’s voice sounded husky, like he had a cold. Drumm had been leaning back against the wall, his ski jacket still mostly zipped up against the chill of the office. Now he slowly undid his coat so that he had easier access to his gun. The vet’s hands were still hidden from his view but Drumm was fairly certain he was standing three feet away from the Riverwood Rapist. If the middle finger on the man’s left hand showed a bulge where a bandage might be, then he would be sure. Drumm’s hands gripped the bottom of his coat as he waited for Dr. Grange to turn around.
When the vet did turn, it was in a rush and he had an object in his right hand. He shoved the syringe towards Drumm’s eye and Drumm instinctively jerked his head backwards, connecting violently with the wall behind him. The vet squirted the liquid onto Drumm’s face and then violently shoved Will off the table. The dog yelped in pain and fright. Grange hurried through the door and slammed it shut behind him.
Drumm felt a burning sensation in his eye but he didn’t have time to think much about it. He was suddenly trying to prevent a twenty-pound Sheltie from crashing to the floor. He had his hands full of a squirming Will who was panicking and trying to claw his way out of Drumm’s grip. Drumm managed to get his hand on Will’s collar, set him down none too gently and shoved him to one side. He stood up quickly and ran out the door, slamming it behind him.
“Look after my dog,” he yelled to the woman at the counter as he raced by. “Don’t let him out.” He went to the front door, opened it violently and then turned back to the secretary. “And call 9-1-1.” The woman stared at him, her mouth open.
Drumm rushed outside and looked around. He was twenty seconds behind, no more than that. He hadn’t heard a car start up so Grange must be on foot. Drumm’s eye was stinging and tearing in the cold but he could still see out of it. He hurried to the sidewalk and was in time to spot a figure in a white coat turn a corner. Drumm started running, trying at the same time to get his phone out of his pocket.
He reached the corner, turned and sprinted after his suspect. Ahead of him he could see a small knot of people standing at an intersection, as if waiting for a bus. As he approached, panting now, he could see that they were staring at a man lying on the ground, with his upper half in a snowbank and his right leg twisted awkwardly underneath him. As he watched, one of the bystanders reached down to help the injured veterinarian.
Drumm called out in a loud voice, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
The Good Samaritan stopped and turned around, surprised.
Drumm showed his badge. “YPS, Homicide.” He paused to catch his breath. “You don’t want to be getting near this man.” All the time he had kept his eyes on Dr. Grange. The man was moaning quietly, clearly in pain, clutching his leg with both hands. Drumm took out his Glock and pointed it at the veterinarian. He used his phone to call for assistance, then put it away and carefully inspected his suspect. It was unlikely the man had a weapon on him or he would have used it on Drumm in the office. Drumm made sure of this and then stepped away.
“All you people, get back,” he ordered. He could hear sirens in the distance. He looked at the small crowd of spectators. “Anyone see what happened?”
The Good Samaritan raised his hand slightly and said, “I did.” He was an older man with cheeks made red by the cold. “He came running down the street there just like you did. He tried to turn the corner and slipped and crashed into the telephone pole.”
Drumm nodded and then grinned. “Should have had winter tires on, shouldn’t he?”
The Good Samaritan frowned and looked down at the groaning figure in the snow. He asked, “Is he a doctor? What’s he done?”
Drumm said, “He’s a veterinarian. And he tried to run on an icy sidewalk in dress shoes and a lab coat. Not a good idea.” He looked at the police car which had just arrived with siren screaming and lights flashing and then back at the red-faced man. “Thanks for your help. Stand back now.”
Drumm reached down and removed the vet’s left hand from underneath his leg. He peeled off the rubber glove. There was a sudden exclamation from the Good Samaritan as he saw the shortened middle finger with a blood-soaked bandage.
“What did he do?” asked the Good Samaritan.
Drumm glanced at him briefly and then smiled. “The son-of-a-bitch hurt my dog.”
twenty-eight
Doctor of Veterinary Medicine Michael Grange had been under police guard in York District Hospital when Drumm went to talk to him. Grange had been advised of his rights while lying in pain on the sidewalk and Drumm had issued a secondary caution at the hospital. Grange had twice refused the suggestion that he needed counsel but Drumm would make sure he lawyered up very soon. He would take no chances that the vet might walk on a charter rights violation. So far Grange had been charged with resisting arrest and assaulting a peace officer. But there was much more to come.
Drumm had asked Grange why he fled. Had he given himself away in some manner?
“I recognized you,” said Grange in a surly voice. “I saw you on TV. I knew you were in charge of the Riverwood Rapist case.”
Drumm smiled sardonically. That damned Benitez woman – she’d done it to him again. He looked at Grange lying in his hospital bed, surrounded by medical equipment, his striking blue eyes staring at him out of a pallid face. His black hair was askew and there were dark circles under his eyes. Drumm looked at the bulge under the sheet where he knew they’d had to screw his leg together. There was a fresh bandage on his finger. Drumm hoped he was in a lot of pain.
“How’s the finger?” asked Drumm. “Hurt a lot?”
Grange looked at him and sneered. “How’s your eye? Hurt a lot?”
“Nope,” said Drumm cheerfully. “A bit of warm water and I’m as good as new.” He looked seriously at the vet. “As soon as we get the DNA match from the lab, we’ll be charging you with a bunch more things, you know. We’re going to need a book to list all the charges. Aside from assaulting a police officer and resisting arrest, there’s the matter of the seven women that you raped.”
“Seven?” asked Grange, curling his upper lip up. “Is that all?”
“Oh, we’ll keep looking,” said Drumm calmly. “And maybe we can tie you to a few more. But seven will do for a start. Actually, you only succeeded with six, and since the seventh one was a police officer, that makes for added spice. So we have sexual assault with a weapon, grievous bodily harm and aggravated sexual assa
ult to begin with. Times seven. And if it turns out you have AIDS, we can add even more charges.”
“I don’t have AIDS.”
“So you say. We’ll find out.”
“Too bad I didn’t get to finish the last one,” said Grange.
Drumm turned to the technician he had brought and asked, “You’re getting all this?”
The man looked up from the camera and nodded.
“So, Dr. Grange, can you explain how your finger came to be damaged?” Drumm asked.
“Your cop friend shot it off.” Grange held up his hand. “And it was almost worth it.” He leered.
“In the course of defending herself, Detective Lori Singh discharged her weapon twice in your direction, and the second shot hit you in the middle finger. This caused you to drop the knife you were using.” Drumm folded his arms. “That’s what happened, right?”
“It was just a lucky shot,” said Grange. “And tell her she has a nice ass.”
Drumm kept his face expressionless. “We’ve got some good prints from that knife. Should be easy to match them to you.” He waited but Grange said nothing. “Where did you get it?”
The veterinarian just sneered again. “I’m getting bored with this. Take off. I don’t want to talk anymore.”
Drumm ignored him. “Yes, a ton of charges. And we haven’t even gotten to the worst of all: first degree murder. Why did you kill her?”
Grange stared at him. “What?”
“Wouldn’t she play along? Is that what happened? Or did she make fun of you and your little…weapon?”
The vet just stared at him. “What are you talking about? I didn’t kill anyone.”
“Sure you did. Friday night. Her name was Kathy Walters but you probably didn’t know that or even care. You tried your nasty game again and something went wrong and you killed her. We found her body in Riverwood.”
Grange looked at the technician and then Drumm. “You’re crazy. I didn’t kill anybody. Friday night? I was home Friday night.” He looked directly at the camera. “No more. I want a lawyer. Now.”
That had been the end of the discussion and Drumm had been well satisfied. For a preliminary interview it had gone quite well. He wasn’t worried about the denial of the Kathy Walters killing. All in good time.
“So he lawyered up. Well, we were expecting it.” Lori was in Drumm’s office, sipping tea, while looking at McDonald lounging against the wall.
“And he denied killing Kathy Walters?” McDonald was looking quizzically at Drumm. “That’s odd, don’t you think? He basically admits to everything but not the last one.”
“You think it’s strange?” asked Drumm. “He’d get life without parole for the murder. That’s a lot worse than the sexual assaults. No matter what I told him, with the courts these days he might not do all that much time for the rapes.”
“We have him cold, though,” said Lori. “Fingerprint match, DNA match…”
“He’s nailed to the cross on those seven sexual assaults,” said McDonald.
Drumm leaned back in his chair and crossed his hands behind his head. “He’ll get credit for time already served, and time off for good behaviour once he’s in. His attorney will tell the jurors what a wonderful citizen he is and point to his long and illustrious career saving the animals of York.” He abruptly sat forward and put his hands on his desk. “He could be out on the streets again in no time. “ He looked at the other two. “But not if we nail him for the killing.”
“I talked to his ex-wife,” said Lori. “She left him years ago. They had a child and she was given custody.”
“Let me guess,” said McDonald. “He assaulted her and she had enough of being beaten up.”
“Surprisingly, no,” said Lori. “But maybe it was just a matter of time. There’s no record of any complaints against him and she never filed any charges. What she did say was that he changed, and it was because he hurt his back. Shoveling snow of all things.”
“Do tell,” said Drumm.
“He wrecked his back and the doctor put him on oxycontin for the pain. He became addicted. She said that over a period of about a year his personality completely altered. He’d been a good husband and father before but then he gradually turned into a nasty, paranoid jerk. He was mean to her and the boy, ignored her or abused her verbally depending on his mood. She said he would come home from work brooding and he wouldn’t talk to her, or he would shout at her and the son if she tried to approach him. She said he was starting to have angry rages. She would take the kid and leave the house when he was like that, but she was afraid worse was going to happen. She eventually had enough and left him. He must have been hell to live with.” Lori frowned.
“But he never attacked her?” asked Drumm. “Or the kid?”
“No. She said not.” Lori finished her tea and put her mug down on Drumm’s desk. “The feeling I got was that his ex-wife – her name is Susan Almagro by the way – still has feelings for him and is sorry about the way things worked out.”
“Does she know he’s the Riverwood Rapist?” asked McDonald.
Lori shrugged. “Presumably.”
“So he wasn’t getting any at home any more so he turned into a rapist?” McDonald was sceptical.
“Oxycontin is a powerful thing, Dick,” said Drumm. He was thinking of a cousin of his who had been radically affected by the same drug. His life had never been the same since, and he was getting counselling and making regular visits to a methadone clinic to try to get off the drug and return to normal.
“If you say so.” McDonald paused and then said, “I went through his place. It’s a crappy one-bedroom apartment. Could use a good cleaning.” He looked at Lori. “He’s got a photo on the wall of him and a blond-haired boy. I guess it’s his son?” Lori nodded and McDonald went on, “In the picture he’s got his hand around the kid’s shoulder. There’s this big, cheap ring on Dad’s right hand.” He looked at Lori. “I’m guessing the kid gave it to him. So, congratulations love – looks like the ring you found ties him to that sixth sexual assault. Can’t remember her name.”
“Janice Lange,” said Drumm.
“Good,” said Lori. “Here’s the other thing. His ex-wife told me that Grange’s grandfather was Indian. From India, that is, not a North American Indian. He married an English girl. And Grange’s parents lived in India for a time, although they were both English as well. Anyway, his grandfather served with the Indian army during the Second World War.”
“So that’s where the knife came from,” said Drumm. “It was his grandfather’s?”
“I would think so, yes,” said Lori. “We’ll ask him.”
“And that’s where he got his darker skin from,” said McDonald. “Although he doesn’t really look Indian. Not like you do, love.” He was looking at Grange’s photo, newly attached to Drumm’s bulletin board. “Maybe that’s why he has the hairy fingers too.”
“Did you look for kitchen knives in his apartment, Dick?” asked Drumm.
McDonald nodded. “All present and accounted for in a nice little set. You think that one that was stuck in Kathy Walters was a kitchen knife?”
“It looked like it, didn’t it?”
“It did indeed,” said McDonald. “But if Grange used it, then he bought another one or he had two in the apartment. I’ll check his credit card receipts and see what I can find.”
Sue Oliver appeared in Drumm’s doorway. “Nick? You’ll want to see this.” She turned and went back out to the common area.
The television was on and the face of Susan Benitez filled the screen. Underneath were the words, Breaking News, scrolling continuously across the bottom. “I repeat, the York Police Services have a suspect in custody in the case of the Riverwood Rapist. No charges have yet been laid, we’re told, but it’s only a matter of time. I’m told also that the police are not looking for any other suspects at this time. Bev?”
The studio host said, “Any identity on the man who’s in custody, Susan?”
The s
hot cut back to Susan Benitez who was standing outside York District Hospital. “Not yet, Bev. We’ve been told the suspect is here, at York District Hospital, and is under police guard, but we don’t know yet who he is. I hope to have that information for you shortly.”
And I’m sure you will, thought Drumm, if Drennan has anything to say about it.
The studio host continued, “Susan, does the murder you reported on earlier have anything to do with this arrest?”
Benitez appeared again. “Just to be clear, Bev – and we need always to be accurate in these cases – there’s no arrest yet, just a suspect in custody. As for the woman murdered and her body found earlier in the Riverwood area, she’s been identified as twenty-seven year old Kathy Evelyn Walters, as we reported earlier. There is lots of speculation that she is the eighth victim of the Riverwood Rapist but the police haven’t confirmed that yet. This man under guard in the hospital may well be connected to this murder, but at this point, we just don’t know. I hope to get an update for you soon. Back to you, Bev.”
Drumm used the remote to turn off the television. “And my phone will start ringing anytime now.” He headed back to his office. As he had predicted, his desk phone was ringing. He ignored it and let it go to voicemail.
Drumm stood in front of his desk and picked up the lab report that he’d received earlier. Without question Dr. Michael Grange was the Riverwood Rapist. His DNA matched the semen he’d left behind on the first six women. It also matched the fingertip found at the seventh scene, Lori’s assault. The report meant that they would be able to put a dangerous serial offender behind bars for a very long time. He would let the psychologists decide what had made the veterinarian act the way he had. That part didn’t really concern him. He’d done his job and nailed the right guy. His prints were on the knife that he’d dropped after attacking Lori. With that and the DNA and the witness descriptions of the man’s eyes and fingers, as well as the ring, Grange’s goose was cooked. The Crown Attorney should have no difficulty with this one.
A Cuban Death Page 18