She picked up the scissors and carefully cut open the end of the envelope. Cautiously peeking in, she saw what appeared to be a plastic bag, but it wasn’t obvious what was inside. She upended the envelope and let the bag slide out onto the desk.
And screamed.
Chapter 13:
Simm drove as fast as he could in the mid-day traffic. He had hardly understood a word as Charlie had shouted into the phone, but he got the message that it was urgent. When he turned on to Drummond, he saw the authorities had made it there before him, the emergency lights reflecting in the pub’s front windows. Even though Simm was relatively sure Charlie was unharmed, the sight of the police cars spiked his fear level up a notch.
He didn’t worry about searching for a parking spot. He pulled up behind one of the cop cars and jabbed the button for his four-way flashers before jumping out of the car. He was inside the building within seconds of arriving.
Charlie’s office door was ajar and as Simm stepped inside, his first impression was that the space was much too crowded. But, then again, four burly policemen took up a lot of space. Add to that the six-foot-four mass of Frank, and a tiny old man –whoever he was– and we had an overpopulation problem. Simm couldn’t even see Charlie.
His second step into the room was blocked by a police officer.
‘Vous ne pouvez pas entrer ici, monsieur.’
‘She called me,’ Simm said, to explain why he could indeed come into the room.
The officer looked over his shoulder toward a far corner just as Frank stepped to the left, and Simm spotted Charlie sitting on the chair in front of her desk. Her eyes were red and swollen, and when she looked at him, he saw those eyes were also glazed with shock. The source of that shock was, as yet, unknown to him.
He made his way over, stepping around the little old man who was arguing with one of the police officers, who was in turn trying to politely hustle him out of the room.
Simm wedged into a spot beside Charlie.
‘What happened?’
‘It was awful.’
‘What was?’
‘It was in an envelope, for God’s sake!’
‘What was in an envelope?’
‘It was gross.’
‘What?’
‘Body parts.’
Simm looked at Frank, hoping for another explanation, something that didn’t revive memories of old news. It had been only a handful of years since Luka Magnotta had killed and dismembered Lin Jun and mailed his limbs to schools and political party offices. It wasn’t something people, including the Montreal police force, would forget anytime soon.
‘They look like organs,’ Frank explained grimly.
‘Human organs?’
Frank lifted his shoulders and spread his arms in the age-old gesture of, ‘I have no idea’.
‘Where did you find them?’ Simm asked Charlie.
‘They were in the mail.’
‘Jesus,’ Simm muttered.
‘That’s what I said. Can you imagine how horrible that is? Someone sent me body parts by the mail.’
‘Organs,’ Frank interjected.
‘Frank, stop it,’ Charlie said in a voice that allowed no argument. The message was clear; to Charlie they were body parts, there was no point in trying to qualify it.
The next picture that flashed through Simm’s mind was the classic image from The Godfather when Marlon Brando woke up to a severed horse’s head in his bed. He thought Mafia, moving his theory one step closer in that direction.
He left Charlie and Frank to settle their difference of opinion and went to talk to the cops.
He chose the sole female, thinking she may be more receptive to his charm.
‘Excuse me, my name is Simm. I’m working for Ms. Butler. I wonder if I could have a look at the package she received.’
‘What do you mean by working?’ she asked, her gaze sharp and defensive.
‘She hired me as a private detective because of the anonymous letters she was receiving.’
He didn’t add that the cops had been no help to Charlie and now the situation had escalated. He thought that particular approach may not work with this group.
‘She won’t need your services anymore. It’s a police matter now.’
‘I disagree. I think I can still work on this in conjunction with the police.’
‘We don’t do conjunction with private detectives.’
‘Then, as a concerned friend of the victim, could I please see the envelope?’
Simm had almost run out of patience and politeness with this cop, and now he wished he had tucked his charm away and simply dealt with someone who would cut him some slack. Luckily for him, a slack-cutter had overheard their conversation.
‘There’s no harm in letting him look at it. If he’s already done some investigating, we could maybe use what he’s got.’
Thank God for the voice of reason.
His saviour, a cop almost as tall as Simm and much broader, received a scowl from his partner for his trouble, but Simm didn’t care. At least he would get a look at whatever had been deposited into Charlie’s mailbox.
He wasn’t quite prepared for the sight. It was much more disgusting than he had expected, a bloody mess in a plastic bag. He wasn’t sure who had determined they were organs, and how they had gone about doing so, but he could see how Charlie would be traumatized by this. He tore his gaze away from it and looked at the more cooperative cop.
‘So, what’s the next step?’
‘We’ll send it to the lab to be analysed, find out what it actually is, and we’ll get back to Ms. Butler about it. We’ll check for fingerprints, and we’re going to look more closely at the other letters she received. What can you tell us about your discoveries so far?’
‘To tell you the truth, I haven’t been on the case very long. I’ve looked in to background information, family history, that type of thing, but there isn’t anything that’s jumped out at me so far.’
‘Maybe you can come to the station and fill us in on what you have, and it’ll save us some time.’
The cop handed Simm his card, and Simm returned the favor. As he turned and walked back to Charlie, he asked himself what had made him hold back the information he had about Jim O’Reilly and his Irish Mafia connection. And the fact that the man had a son who was essentially snubbed in his will.
Chapter 14:
Charlie and her two shadows, a man and a pug, arrived at Butler’s early the following day. Simm had insisted on picking her up and escorting her to work. For a reason that she didn’t want to explore too deeply, she didn’t argue. She installed Harley in the office so he could get his beauty sleep and released Simm from his duties. Frank was present to take over as her bodyguard. Then, she vigorously attacked some spring cleaning in the bar section. She needed good physical work to take her mind off her troubles.
The late afternoon rush was underway, and Charlie was taking orders from a young couple when the two police officers entered the pub. A hush came over the crowd. Her blood chilled when she recognized them from the day before. She immediately finished up with the couple, handed over her duties to another employee, and motioned to Frank to join her.
Knowing their topic of conversation wouldn’t be appropriate to be dealt with in public, Charlie invited everyone to the office in the back of the building. As they left the bar area, she heard the conversation pick up again, presumably much of it speculation about why the police were here.
The four of them crowded into Charlie’s office, getting seated as Harley made the rounds and greeted everyone individually befor
e heading back to his cushion to resume his nap.
‘What do you have to tell me?’ Charlie asked, addressing the male detective, who had introduced himself as Detective Alain Ranfort.
‘We sent the specimen to the lab for testing, and fortunately they were not human.’
‘They weren’t? What were they?’
‘Sheep.’
‘Sheep?’ Charlie felt a flash of relief, but it was instantly replaced by chagrin on behalf of the sheep. ‘How would someone get sheep parts?’
‘That’s what we’re trying to find out. There were six of them in the bag.’
Charlie was stunned. It was hard to imagine how someone could get hold of half a dozen sheep organs in downtown Montreal. But it would be even stranger to have six human parts in the bag. No matter what, they were dealing with a very sick person.
‘What kind?’ she asked.
‘Excuse me?’
‘What kind of organs were they?’
The detective looked at his partner.
‘Heart, kidney, liver, two of each,’ the woman said.
Charlie shivered.
‘So, what’s the next move?’ she said.
‘We keep looking,’ he continued. ‘We’ve contacted the people at MacDonald College. It’s an agricultural campus. Maybe they’ll have leads for us, or maybe they’ll discover some organs have gone missing. It’s a start. Meanwhile, I suggest you remain vigilant and avoid going out alone.’
‘Don’t worry. We’re making sure of that,’ Frank said. The detective looked at Frank and nodded approvingly.
The officers stood to go. There was nothing else to add, and Charlie was still too baffled to know what questions she should ask.
When she was alone in her office, she picked up the phone to call Simm. He answered on the first ring.
‘Where are you?’ she asked.
‘I had a few things to finish up for another case. What’s up?’
‘The police just left. The organs came from sheep.’
There were a few moments of silence on the other end of the line.
‘Boy, I wasn’t expecting that one.’
‘Neither was I. But, on the other hand, at least they weren’t human.’
‘Yeah, I get that. Look, I’ll be over a little later.’
‘No rush. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here until late tonight.’
Charlie tried to shake off the feeling of weirdness that blanketed her. She served tables, worked the bar, and cleaned up between shifts. It was late in the evening when she noticed Simm sitting at the bar, drinking a beer. She had no idea how long he had been there, and glancing at her watch, she realized she had already been at work for fourteen hours and had merely stopped to take Harley for his walks, with Frank close by her side. Exhaustion seeped through her body.
She propped herself on the stool next to Simm and noticed her reflection in the mirror behind the bar. She grimaced when she saw she looked even worse than she felt.
‘I’ll get Harley and we’ll head home,’ Simm said.
Charlie nodded her head in response, too tired to come up with an alternative.
Within a few minutes, Charlie and Harley were tucked into Simm’s car and heading along the damp streets of Montreal. Fog swirled eerily around her apartment building, dampening Charlie’s spirits even further. It struck her that it wasn’t a cheerful-looking building, and she should think about finding another place.
‘It’s starting to rain a little harder. I’ll drop you off at the door, and I’ll park the car.’
‘You don’t have to come in. I can take it from here.’
‘No. The deal is I see you safely inside your place. It’s non-negotiable.’
Charlie shrugged her shoulders resignedly and climbed out of the vehicle. She moved up the stairs, fumbling in her purse for her keys, with Harley by her side. Her fingers closed around the ring of keys as she arrived at the landing outside her apartment door. She raised her head and staggered backward as if someone had hit her, bumping into her neighbor’s door. Harley barked frantically. Charlie bent, clutched the dog, and ran down the stairs.
Halfway down, she collided with Simm. One of his hands grabbed her arm and the other the banister to steady the three of them.
‘What is it?’ he said.
Charlie was panting from exertion and fear. All she could do was point up the stairwell. Simm didn’t need any further encouragement. He stepped around her and raced to the landing. When he reached the door, he staggered backward into the neighbor’s door.
Chapter 15:
The same two police officers showed up at Charlie’s apartment. Soon, the landing was crowded with uniforms and techs. Charlie had inched through her doorway to get into her home and sat huddled on the couch with Harley dozing in her arms. Simm paced back and forth between the woman and the scene at the door.
He was certain of one thing. The game had changed. The perpetrator knew where Charlie lived and wasn’t shy about attacking her at home. She was no longer safe here.
After a closer look, Simm saw the technique the person had used was amateurish. It had the desired shock effect upon first glance, but everyone agreed he had used the most basic of materials.
Six posters of missing children had been plucked off bulletin boards and taped to Charlie’s door. Each of them was slashed at least once with a sharp object. Then, a liberal amount of blood-like liquid had been applied. To top it off, a message, ‘You can’t bring back the children’, was scrawled across the posters, again in a blood-red color. What that message was supposed to mean was anyone’s guess.
‘It’s not real blood, Charlie,’ Simm said, lowering himself onto the couch beside her.
‘I know, but it’s a shock all the same. And the worst part is, he knows where I live. He was here.’
Simm could just nod his head. How could he argue with her? It was precisely what he was thinking. Charlie scanned her living room, her lips curled in distaste.
‘Why don’t you go pack up some stuff? You can stay at my place tonight,’ he said.
Charlie opened her mouth to say something, and Simm braced himself for an argument, but she closed her mouth and stood up glumly. Harley moved over, setting his head on Simm’s lap. He looked at the dog, and wondered how he would sneak him past the night watchman at his apartment building.
It was another hour before he had to worry about it. Pictures were taken, tests were made, and the neighbors were questioned. Charlie had two bags ready to be taken to the car, mostly filled with Harley’s belongings.
Simm lived in a modern high-rise on Sainte-Catherine Street, one of Montreal’s primary arteries, well-known for its shopping, restaurants and bars. There was a lot of traffic and activity in the vicinity, in sharp contrast to the relatively quiet neighborhood where Charlie lived. Despite the lateness of the hour, the street was still busy, and fortunately for Simm, the watchman was occupied elsewhere as they went through the lobby. But because of the security cameras, they took the precaution of carrying Harley in a tote bag.
His apartment was bright and spacious, but it only had one bedroom. Simm, being a gentleman, insisted Charlie take his room while he prepared the couch for himself. Once again, she didn’t argue with him. He knew she had to be distressed if she couldn’t make a decent argument against everything he suggested.
Her mood didn’t improve during the night. A glum face sat across from him at the breakfast table, a coffee cooling in front of her.
‘What time do you want to go to the pub today?’
‘I don’t know,’ she answered with a shrug.
‘Why don’t you go have your shower while I take Harley out to do his business?’
‘Okay.’
Concerned, Simm watched her shuffle to the bathroom. He glanced down at Harley.
‘Okay, buddy, it’s time to take care of you.’
Simm sifted through his closet and found the largest coat he owned. It happened to be a winter coat and would look strange on a warm day late in the month of May, but it was the only one big enough to hide a dog. He put a leash in one pocket, and gently picked up Harley. He didn’t want to squeeze him too hard for fear his bladder couldn’t handle it. Meeting the watchman with a trickle of liquid running down his leg could raise questions Simm would rather not have to answer.
They made it outside without incident, but to be extra cautious, Simm waited until he was well out of sight of the apartment building before releasing Harley from his coat. Within a few minutes, his job was done, and they sneaked back inside in time to hear Charlie shutting off the shower.
When they arrived at Butler’s, Simm witnessed Charlie’s transformation. She immediately stepped into her role as the person who called the shots. Employees were scheduled, and alcohol was ordered to boost the inventory. A handyman was called to repair some chairs, and lists were made for supplies that needed restocking.
She may not be her usual cheerful self, but at least she seemed to have regained a purpose in life, Simm thought. He filled Frank in on the latest event and left Charlie under the bartender’s watchful and concerned eye.
Simm’s first stop was the police station to check with Detective Ranfort, only to find he had wasted his time. They had nothing new to tell him about the incident from the previous night and no leads to work on. Simm felt at loose ends, not sure in which direction he should be looking.
The memory of Charlie’s expression disturbed his thoughts. He knew it wasn’t part of his job description to keep his client cheerful and upbeat, but he couldn’t help feeling bad for her. An idea popped into his head, and he mentally crossed his fingers, hoping he could make it work. Grabbing his cell phone, he sifted through his list of contacts.
Sins of the Fathers Page 5