Along Comes a Wolfe

by Angie Counios

  Two paramedics race across the street from the ambulance and through the front door, their kits in tow. More cops follow. Gekas comes out the front door and I’ve got a bad feeling. The radio chatter is all just short bursts of police code, but there’s enough to know that someone’s bleeding out and someone else is dead.

  chapter 102

  I find Gekas. She’s not thrilled to see me.

  “Detective, what happened?”

  “This isn’t the place for you.”

  “Is Robbie in there?”

  When I see her face, I know it’s bad, but she deflects. “Why are you here?”

  “Robbie’s not the one.”

  “All the evidence says he is.”

  It isn’t until Gekas looks over my shoulder that I realize Charlie is behind me. “Is Robbie…?”

  “It’s not good, Charles.”

  Charlie gets in her face. “But he’s too stupid to have done any of those things.”

  Gekas pauses. “I know, but everything points to him.”

  “So you shot him?”

  “No. By the time we got in there, Brent Chan had a gun on him.”

  “But you weren’t there for Chan.”

  “No, but he was going on about Robbie being a rat, saying it was his fault we were there. Before we could do anything, Chan shot him, then turned the gun on himself.”

  Charlie stares in disbelief. Gekas reaches for his shoulder before pausing and pulling back. She sighs, shaking her head as she walks back to the house

  I stand beside Charlie, unsure what to do. In the few weeks I’ve known him, it seems like nothing fazes him, and now this guy he barely calls a friend has been shot and he seems rattled to the core.

  “Charlie?”

  He looks at me, at the house, and back at me before walking off into the enveloping crowd.

  chapter 103

  I find Charlie a while later, sitting on the curb by the school, his hands propped on his knees, his phone hanging down. I hand over his coffee and the bag of doughnuts I grabbed from the car on the way over. He sets them between his feet.

  “You okay?” I ask, knowing it’s is the stupidest thing I could ask. I, of all people, should understand how annoying that question is.

  “Getting Robbie shot was not my intention.”

  “Gekas says that—”

  “I know what Gekas says. But I sure as hell didn’t plan any of this.”

  I nod. There’s not much else I can do.

  Charlie grabs the bag of doughnuts, rummaging through them until he pulls out a maple dip. “It just doesn’t make sense,” he repeats.

  I can’t imagine how Charlie must feel. It must suck feeling responsible for someone else’s near death.

  “You couldn’t know how Chan was going to react—”

  “No, not that. That Robbie is some serial killer.”

  So much for Charlie’s empathy—I never can keep up with him. But I have to agree: Robbie’s an unlikely candidate for murderer. If nothing else, stoners just aren’t that motivated.

  Charlie stares at the asphalt. “What are we missing?”

  The siren of the ambulance interrupts our train of thought as it disperses the crowd, zooming down the street toward us. It hits the main thoroughfare, cutting through the red light and speeds off.

  “The fact they’ve got the siren on is a good sign,” I offer. “Means there’s something to fight for.”

  Charlie stares down the street for a long time before picking up his coffee and looking at me. “You know, Robbie moved here recently. I wonder why.”

  Charlie’s on his phone.

  “He came from some city out west. I’ve searched his name but nothing comes up.” He takes a sip of his coffee, thinking it over.

  “Wait a sec.” He taps something into the search bar and waits for the page to download. He taps again. “Kingstown! That’s where he’s from.” He scrolls some more. “Oh, look at this.”

  chapter 104

  He hands me the phone. It’s a news article, dated a year ago, about a Kingstown senior, unnamed of course, who was attacked in the school bathroom. No one was caught.

  “Same mo.”

  “Yes, but because us teenagers never know when to keep our traps shut…” He works away at his phone.

  I can’t help but be impressed watching him harness the power of the web.

  “A lot of social networks have semantic search engines that query all their big data,” he tells me.

  Uh… “What are you talking about?”

  “I can search age, location, likes, dislikes, relationships—anything.”

  “So?”

  “Soooo, by searching what the teens of Kingstown talked about a year ago, I’m ninety per cent certain that our senior is Jayce Morgan.”

  “Who?”

  He shows me his phone and I look. There’s a stock photo from graduation of Jayce—a pretty girl with long dark hair.

  He takes it back and searches some more. “And that’s likely her phone number.”

  I see his look and realize what he’s asking.

  “No.”

  “Come on. She’s our only lead right now.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I can’t call a girl out of the blue that I’ve never met and ask her about an attack in a bathroom from a year ago.”

  “Well, I sure as hell can’t, but you? You’re a smooth-talking criminal.”

  I shake my head at his weak attempt to cajole me.

  “Seriously, we need this. I need this. To make it right.”

  “For who?”

  He doesn’t answer, just waves his phone in my face.

  I weigh it out. If Robbie isn’t the killer, we must be getting close to figuring out who took Sheri.

  “Okay, what’s the number?”

  chapter 105

  I dial Jayce Morgan, shaking my head the whole time. In the last few weeks, I’ve felt exhilarating rushes and real fear for the first time in my life. I’ve felt my heart pound and my palms sweat, and I’ve told uncomfortable, awkward lies that have twisted my stomach into knots. But this moment isn’t one of them. Now I might finally close in on the answer I’m seeking.

  Ring ring.

  Charlie takes a bite out of his doughnut and follows it with a slug of coffee. Everything that’s happened today seems to have taken a toll on him and he looks like an old man sitting there on the curb.

  Ring ring.

  My nerves tighten.

  Ring ring.

  The phone picks up and a teen girl answers, “Heya—”

  “Hi, is this Jayce—?”

  “—my phone is way over there and I can’t get it, so don’t be lame. Leave a message or send a text. Later.” Beep.

  I hang up.

  “What the hell, Shepherd?” Charlie spits out the words as quickly as he swallows the rest of the doughnut.

  I’m annoyed at him for being on my case, and I’m annoyed at myself for hanging up.

  “I got her voicemail,” I answer curtly.

  “And, what? You couldn’t say something?”

  “Like what?”

  “You don’t have to hang up like some… like some freshman trying to get a date with the senior cheerleader.”

  Charlie has this magical way of disconnecting and pushing buttons to provoke me and I can never tell if he’s actually mad.

  “What am I supposed to say? Hey, Jayce, it’s Tony Shepherd. You’ve never met me, but I was wondering how you feel about strangulation and bathrooms!”

  Charlie gets that ‘what the hell?’ look on his face. “Geez, Shepherd. Gear down, man.”

  I glare at him but he breaks into a big grin and I reluctantly smile too.

  “Take a minute or two… or ten. She’ll pick up eventually.”

 
; We walk to the car and get inside. I try a second time. It goes straight to voicemail. Charlie scrolls through his phone, learning what was happening in Jayce’s world a year ago.

  I try once more, ready to give up, knowing I’m on the verge of acting like the psycho we’re hunting.

  “Hello?”

  It’s her. My heart leaps.

  “Hello?”

  I cough and splutter out, “Hi. Is this Jayce?”

  “Yes. Who’s this?”

  “My name’s Tony,” I gather in a breath. “I was just wondering if you could help me out?”

  “Who?”

  “Tony Shepherd.”

  “Sorry, do I know you?”

  “No, but—”

  “Do you work for the newspaper?”

  “No.”

  “Are you a cop? How do you know me?”

  “I’m not from—”

  “How did you get my number?”

  “I’m from—”

  “I don’t know you. Goodbye.”

  Click.

  “Shit.”

  Charlie looks at me. “That went well.”

  I hit redial.

  Charlie raises an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

  “Calling back.”

  He may know how to do a b&e, he may know what gadgets he needs to spy on someone, but I know how to talk to people. This is what I do.

  Ring ring.

  “Look, psycho, I told you not to call me! I’m going to trace your number and the cops will be on your doorstep!”

  “I’ll give you my phone number and my address,” I say quickly, before she can hang up. “Heck, I’ll give you the name of a nice detective who’d be happy to help you out…Jayce, please—I promise, just give me a minute and when the minute’s up, if you don’t want to listen anymore, you can ignore me and turn off your phone. Just one minute. Deal?”

  Silence.

  “Please? Almost everyone’s got at least a minute to spare.”

  It seems like the longest pause in the world.

  “Okay. Go.”

  “I know something happened to you about a year ago—”

  “Stop. We’re done—”

  “No, no, no. You promised me one minute.”

  I hear her exhale, but she doesn’t end the call.

  “I’m calling because the same thing is happening here and I think they’re connected.” I hold on a moment, waiting for what I say to sink in, but not giving her too long. “I want to stop what’s going on, but I don’t have enough information and I need your help. What happened to you was scary—is scary—and you didn’t deserve it either, but I don’t think anyone else should go through what you did. I just need a little more information. Can you help? ”

  I hear nothing and hope she’s still there.

  “What do you need to know?”

  I breathe again and Charlie gives me the thumbs up.

  “Thank you.”

  “Whatever. Just because I’m giving you more than a minute doesn’t mean I won’t hang up.”

  “Fair enough.” I pause, wondering how I’m going to proceed. I decide to jump right in.

  “Last year you were attacked?”

  “Yes.”

  “In the bathroom?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you see who it was?”

  “No. Well, not completely. I saw parts of him.”

  “Him? So, there are things you did notice?”

  “Why can’t you get a copy of the police report and leave me alone?”

  “Because you can tell me things the police may not have asked.”

  “You’re really not a cop?”

  “No.” I’m not sure why she keeps asking this.

  After a long pause, she asks, “Then what are you doing this for?”

  I take a deep breath. “My girlfriend went missing a few weeks ago. The cops have tried everything but it all comes up a dead-end and I’m trying to find out where she is and what happened to her. I love her and I miss her, and to be honest, I think you may be the only one who can help.”

  She breathes out. “Okay, Tony. Keep asking.”

  Charlie leans in and listens.

  chapter 106

  “Do you know Robbie—?” I realize I don’t know his last name. I look over at Charlie and he looks back at me, clueless. I muffle the phone. “What’s his last name?

  Charlie shrugs.

  “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

  “Why would I?”

  “A few seconds ago you were upset that he got shot.”

  “So? Doesn’t mean I know all his personal details.”

  “You know my last name!”

  “Yeah, but why do you think I only called you Shepherd?”

  “You can’t remember my first name?”

  “Sometimes I can… on and off. Look, it’s not my style.”

  “It’s his name.”

  “Yeah, if I needed to know, I’d just steal his wallet and look.”

  I’m dumbfounded. In the background Jayce is wondering what’s going on, “Hello?”

  I go back to the phone call. “Hi.”

  “Who are you talking to?”

  “Um, my… uh… colleague.” The lameness of my answer frustrates me.

  “Is he listening in? You didn’t tell me—”

  I’m going to lose all my hard work if I’m not careful. “I’m sorry, Jayce, I really am. My name is Tony Shepherd and the other guy is Charlie Wolfe.” I exaggerate my first name and give Charlie a look. He rolls his eyes.

  “We just want to catch the guy we think did this to you.”

  “And your girlfriend?”

  “Yes, and my girlfriend.”

  Silence.

  “What’s her name?

  “Sheri.” Saying it does something to my insides.

  Another long pause, but I can’t keep waiting.

  “There’s a boy, Robbie, in Grade…” I look at Charlie and he shrugs again. We have to pursue this, no matter where it leads. “…I’m not sure, maybe Grade 10 or 11. He went to your school.”

  “I was a senior last year, so I probably didn’t know him.”

  “He’s kind of a screw-up. Hanging out with druggies…” I run through what I know and it’s really not a lot. I grasp at straws. “He’s short—”

  Charlie grabs the phone out of my hand. “Hi Jayce, Charlie here. I don’t know Robbie’s last name but he got shot a half hour ago and he’s having a really bad day, so I can’t ask him his last name. What I can tell you is that he likes Skrillex, Henry Rollins, Howard Stern, the Grateful Dead, Pink Floyd, and Deep Purple. He’s also probably and almost certainly got kicked out of school more than once. He was also the kid in bio or chem class that asked about hydroponics a lot, which got him sent to the office a lot because he’s a druggie, right? But he actually liked growing strawberries and basil and mint and—”

  “Oh my God, are you talking about Catnip?”

  We look at each other, confused.

  “Who’s Catnip?” Charlie asks.

  “He was this kid who went to our school last year. Stoned all the time but turns out the old ladies loved him because he’d get all their gardens going great at the start of spring because he’d sell them the best plants. I guess he had a real green thumb,” she says.

  “Anyway,” she goes on, “the rumour was that he was growing small quantities of marijuana in his patch and selling it to other students. Teachers hear about this, they plan to come down hard on him—”

  Charlie interrupts, “And they bust him and find out that it’s catnip?”

  “Better. He found out beforehand and swapped it out. Still got expelled, though, because administration thought he scammed a bunch of students.”


  “I don’t think Robbie is that smart—”

  “Nah, they said he had help.”

  “Who?”

  “His brother, I think.”

  I look at Charlie, who shakes his head. He doesn’t know the brother.

  He’s on it, though. “The brother, he went to your school too?”

  “No, he went to some private school that’s a feeder program to some of the bigger universities.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “You, know—places where Mommy and Daddy pay big bucks to give you a high-end education and you live in dorms and it’s all fancy pants.” Her cynicism is strong.

  “Any idea why he’d help Robbie if he had all that going for him?”

  There’s a pause while she thinks. “I guess he was in some big play and he was worried Robbie was going to mess it up for him.”

  This piques Charlie’s interest. “He was in drama?”

  “Yeah. They’d always force us to see the plays each year.”

  Apparently Jayce is not a lover of the arts.

  “And what grade was he in?”

  “Don’t know. They didn’t really use grades at his school. More about who you were than your grade.”

  “But if you had to guess his age?”

  “Maybe my age, maybe a bit older.”

  Is this our guy?

  Charlie leans into the phone. “So whatever happened to him? Robbie’s brother? Did he get to do his play?”

  “I’m—I don’t know.”

  There’s hesitation in her voice and before I can stop Charlie, he charges on like a bull. “Why not?’

  “Because just after that, I got attacked.”

  I punch Charlie in the arm for being stupid. He seems not to realize how insensitive he’s being.

  I take the phone away from him.

  “Thank you, Jayce. I think you’ve helped us.”

  She’s quiet again. “You don’t think—?”

  “I’m not sure. But we’re going to find out.”

  “Okay,” she says.

  I can hear the worry in her voice, like it’s happening all over again.

  “Jayce?” I try for one last answer.

  “Yes?”

  “Do you know the brother’s name?”