A Striking Similarity

by Kevin Hopkins

  ‘Yes. From three until seven thirty I drive the number eighteen. I have dinner from then until nine o’clock and then I drive the number eleven until one a.m. when I park the bus back at the garage.’ Mr. Singh said.

  ‘Is it typical to do split shifts like that on different runs?’

  ‘Yes, most of us have to do it. The union has been fighting to get that changed, but so far, the city won’t go for it. For some reason, they don’t think it’s a good idea for the same driver to drive the same route all shift long. I think they worry the driver will get too tired, seeing the same things for eight hours straight. But, a street’s a street, right? No matter where we drive, we are just driving in circles.’ By this time, Mr. Singh seemed quite relaxed.

  ‘Makes sense. So, last night, did you happen to notice anyone around that area? Maybe a car parked where there usually isn’t one, or someone sitting down? Anyone carrying someone?’ Penner asked.

  ‘Carrying someone?’ Mr. Singh asked, a bit puzzled. ‘No, nothing like that. But, now that you mention it, I did notice someone sitting by the statue. I figured they were taking a rest on their walk home from a bar. Lots of bars in that area.’

  ‘Do you remember what time you saw them by any chance?’ Penner asked, leaning in a bit and picking up her pen.

  ‘I think it was on my second last or maybe the last time I passed. I don’t really remember,’ Mr. Singh said with some uncertainty. ‘I didn’t think much about it, so I didn’t pay much attention to it.’

  ‘So your last run brought you by there around 12:50, and the one before?’ Penner asked.

  ‘Each trip is about forty minutes, so around 12:10, or so.’

  ‘And you didn’t see this person before midnight?’ Penner asked, again writing in her book.

  ‘I didn’t notice anyone,’ Mr. Singh said, thinking back. ‘Maybe they were there, I don’t know.’

  ‘Thank you Mr. Singh, you’ve been very helpful. If you think of anything else, please give me a call,’ Penner said, standing up and giving Mr. Singh her card.

  ‘I will. Thank you, Detective. And it is Sanjay,’ Mr. Singh said, putting the card in his shirt pocket.

  * * *

  ‘Again, I am very sorry for your loss, Mr. Wong,’ Millar said, after delivering the news to Mr. Wong that his wife was dead. Millar sat next to Mr. Wong on a sofa in the living room, while Grant stood at a respectful distance. His back was against the wall next to the kitchen entrance, and he was slowly looking around the room.

  ‘I can’t believe she’s dead.’ Mr. Wong wiped a tear off of his cheek. ‘Where was she found? What happened?’

  ‘She was found downtown on Wellington Street. We’re still investigating what happened to her,’ Millar said, not wanting to reveal too much information so early in the case. Grant was watching Mr. Wong’s reactions intently. ‘Can you tell us what your wife was doing last night?’

  ‘She was at a work party. One of her co-workers was leaving to start a new job so they all went out to dinner.’ Mr. Wong wiped at his eyes again with his shirtsleeve. ‘She called me around midnight to say that she was going to be later than expected. It sounded like they were having a good time and wanted to stay out. I think they were going to go to a coffee shop to keep chatting,’ Mr. Wong paused to take a breath. ‘I had to work this morning, so I went to bed. When I got up, she wasn’t here. I just figured she stayed at one of the other girl’s houses for the night. I can’t believe she’s dead!’

  ‘Do you know the names of the people she went out with?’ Millar asked. Grant pulled out his notebook.

  ‘Um, the one leaving is Mary. Mary Jonson. I think there were four others—it’s a small office. Jenny Foisy. Dave something, I don’t know his last name. He’s the only guy in the office. There was another one before, but he left to start up his own firm,’ Mr. Wong said. ‘Her boss, Amanda, was probably there, too. And there’s a new girl, but I don’t know her name. Amanda would know.’

  ‘Whereabouts did she work?’ Grant asked. Millar gave him a look. So much for just observing.

  ‘She was a legal analyst at Smithers Law, on Kent Street,’ Mr. Wong replied, looking at Grant. ‘She had only been there for a couple of years, but she really liked it. They were a close group working there.’

  ‘Can you think of anyone who would have wanted to hurt her?’ Millar asked.

  ‘No, not at all. She was really well liked. She got along great with her co-workers, had lots of friends at church, the other mothers on the PTA all loved her. I can’t believe this,’ Mr. Wong said, starting to tear up again.

  ‘She was a member of the PTA? You have kids?’ Millar asked. He hadn’t noticed any family photos in the room.

  ‘Yes, we have a daughter, Mae,’ Mr. Wong said. ‘Karen had her when she was young, only sixteen. How am I going to tell her that her mother’s dead?’

  ‘So, Mae is…?’ Millar asked.

  ‘Almost sixteen herself,’ Mr. Wong said, getting up. ‘Very smart girl, she takes after her mother. Well, except for her size. Karen is…’ He stopped himself. ‘Karen was very petite, but Mae, Mae is a big girl. Very strong too.’ He grabbed his phone and brought up a photo of Mae and Karen. ‘This was after Mae won first place in a wresting match just last week. Karen was so proud of her!’

  ‘Mae wrestles?’ Millar asked. ‘For what school?’

  ‘Sir Wilfrid Laurier. One of the best wrestlers in the district for her age.’ Mr. Wong smiled, he was obviously very proud of his daughter.

  ‘Again, we are very sorry for your loss, Mr. Wong,’ Millar said, standing up and moving towards the door. ‘I’ll keep in touch and let you know how the investigation is going. If you have any questions or think of anything, anything at all, please give me a call.’ He handed Mr. Wong a card. ‘We’ll see ourselves out.’

  ‘So,’ Grant turned to Millar as they stepped outside, closing the front door gently behind them, ‘What’d you think?’ He walked down the front steps behind Millar. ‘Seemed pretty genuine to me. Nothing stood out. I didn’t notice anything strange.’

  ‘Me, neither. I don’t think he had anything to do with it, but we’ll do a background check when we get back to the precinct,’ Millar said, getting into the car. He looked at his watch. ‘Want to go to a wrestling match?’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  With only five minutes to spare, Millar and Grant walked into the high school gymnasium. There were three sets of wresting mats set up, and around a hundred or so people, a mix of students and parents. Grant was immediately hit by the smell of teens and pre-teens who should be using deodorant on a regular basis, but obviously weren’t. Millar looked around the room. He recognized Tina’s coach standing next to the closest set of mats.

  ‘I want you to go ask around and see if there are any kids here from Sir Wilfrid Laurier,’ Millar said to Grant. ‘I’m going to watch my daughter’s match.’

  ‘Your daughter wrestles, sir?’ Grant asked as Millar was walking away. Millar ignored him. ‘Right, I’ll just go question some people.’

  ‘Next up on mat one is Lauren Brown from St. Matthew’s against Tina Millar from Cairine Wilson. Christa Leduc from Hopewell High against Vanessa Rhymes from St. Peter’s on mat two and Jenna Peake from Cairine Wilson against Taylor Bodwell from Rideau High on mat three.’

  Millar stood at the edge of the mat as the announcement ended. He watched Tina walk out to the centre of the mat, wearing her school colours. ‘Man, she looks mean when she isn’t wearing her wig,’ Millar thought. Tina was born with alopecia, a medical condition where a person loses their hair. She was initially diagnosed when she was eight years old. At first she only lost small patches of hair, but the condition kept getting worse. By the time she was ten, she was almost completely bald and had lost her eye lashes and brows. At that point, she started wearing wigs, but she was still bullied at school. That’s when she started wrestling—her guidance counselor thought it would be good for her self esteem. Millar thought it was a good idea, and not just because
it built character. It could also come in handy if the bullying turned into fights. Sometimes he still thought more like a cop than a dad. Tina really took to wrestling. She was only fifteen, but she was already almost six feet tall and around a hundred and eighty-five pounds, so she had a bit of an unfair advantage. At that age, the girls were competing in age groups, not weight classes. Some coaches refused to let their girls compete against her, and other girls were too scared to fight. Something about the no eyebrows and bald head made Tina look really mean.

  On this day, the girl Tina was competing against was nearly seven inches shorter, and quite a bit smaller. There was definitely some trepidation in her eyes. As the girls got ready in the centre of the mat, the ref looked first at Tina, and then at her competitor, Lauren. The look in the ref’s eyes seemed to be asking Lauren if she was sure she wanted to wrestle. Lauren just stared at Tina.

  The ref blew her whistle, and, almost as quickly as it started, the match was over. Tina had pinned Lauren in under a minute.

  As Tina got up from the mat to accept her coach’s high-five, she saw Millar, smiling as only a proud father could smile. She couldn’t help but smile back as she bounded over to him and gave him a hug.

  ‘I’m surprised you made it! I didn’t think you’d be able to pull yourself away from work,’ Tina said, wiping a bit of sweat from her forehead. Without any hair or eyebrows to stop it, sweat had a tendency to drip into her eyes.

  ‘I told you I would be here. Great match! She didn’t have a chance,’ Millar said. ‘Many more matches today?’

  ‘At least two, and then it depends on if I win or not,’ Tina said. ‘The first one shouldn’t be too bad. I beat her two meets ago, but I don’t know the other girl. I think I’ll try to watch her next match and check her out.’

  ‘Anyone here from Sir Wilfrid Laurier?’ Millar asked.

  ‘Don’t know. Why?’ Tina asked, suddenly suspicious.

  ‘Just curious.’ Millar saw Grant walking towards them and turned his attention back to Tina. ‘Do you know a Mae Wong? She wrestles for them in your age group.’

  ‘Maybe, not sure.’ Tina’s guard went up as Grant arrived. ‘You bring back-up?’

  ‘T, this is Constable Grant,’ Millar said. ‘Constable Grant, this is my daughter, Tina.’

  ‘Nice to meet you,’ Grant said, holding out his hand, a little taken aback by her appearance. Tina ignored his attempt at a handshake. ‘Um, doesn’t seem like Sir Wilfrid entered anyone in the meet, sir. A few people do know Mae, though.’

  Tina took a big step backwards and stared at Millar. ‘You can’t be serious. You came here to work. And here I was thinking you were actually being a caring father!’ Tina was furious. ‘I have to go get ready for my next match. You are unbelievable, you know that?’

  ‘T!’ Millar called out, but Tina was already walking away. ‘Well, that went well. Alright, we might as well go,’ he said to Grant. They walked towards the exit, Millar turning around occasionally, hoping Tina would at least look over at him. She never did.

  ‘What next, sir?’ Grant asked as they opened the gymnasium doors and stepped out into the fresh outdoor air.

  ‘Well, now we go back to headquarters. I’ll get you to do a check on Mr. Wong, see if he has a past at all. Also, look up his daughter and see what you can find out on her.’ As Millar spoke, Grant took notes. ‘I’m going to touch base with Detective Penner, see what our bus driver had to say. Oh, and see if the Coroner found anything else.’

  ‘Right,’ Grant said putting his notebook back in his pocket. As he was getting into the car, Millar’s phone rang.

  ‘Excuse me,’ Millar said to Grant. He looked at the number calling—it was his publicist. ‘Hi Jeff, how’s it going?’ Millar walked away from the car.

  ‘I’m well, and you?’

  ‘Busy, working a case. What’s up?’

  ‘I’ve got a speaking engagement for you if you want it, pays good. Sounds like it should be a good crowd, too. Could be a good opportunity to sell some more books.’

  ‘Sounds good. Where and when?’ Millar asked.

  ‘Well, it’s actually tomorrow night. In Toronto.’

  ‘What?! That’s kind of short notice, don’t you think?’ Millar wasn’t too surprised. Jeff seemed to drop things like this on him all the time. ‘I assume you’ve already looked into travel for me?’

  ‘Of course. You can fly out tomorrow at noon. The conference starts at five, ends at eight. After mingling and what-not, you can either fly back and be home by midnight, or there’s another flight at two the next afternoon, your call.’

  Toronto was too good a market to turn down. It seemed to be the centre of the police community in Ontario. There were a lot of municipalities within driving distance, and all the major Canadian cities had flights that flew in and out on a daily basis. It wouldn’t make sense to turn down the gig, even if it was last minute.

  ‘Fine. Book me the flight out, I’ll decide tomorrow when I’m going to come home. I have to clear it with my Captain.’

  ‘Consider it done. I’ll email you all the details.’

  ‘Great, thanks. Next time, a bit more notice, okay? Thanks, Jeff.’ Millar hung up the phone and went back to the car.

  ‘Everything okay, sir?’ Grant asked.

  ‘Everything’s fine. Just have to figure out how to tell the Captain I need a day off,’ Millar said. ‘How are you at writing reports?’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  It was just before dinner when Millar and Grant got back to the precinct. The smell of fast food and microwaved dinners filled the lobby as they walked in, hitting Grant hard. His stomach gurgled loudly—Millar looked at him and raised an eyebrow. ‘Sir, if it’s okay with you, I’m going to grab a bite to eat before checking up on Mr. Wong’s background. I haven’t eaten since breakfast. I’m starving.’ He held his stomach as it continued to make noise.

  ‘Yeah, sounds like a plan. If your day is supposed to be done, just do it tomorrow,’ Millar said, checking his watch. ‘I’m going to be off for a couple of days, so whatever you find, just let Detective Penner know—she’ll keep me in the loop. Thanks for your help today.’

  ‘Perfect. Thanks, sir,’ Grant said. ‘Sir, if you don’t mind, I would like to work with you again at some point, try to learn more about profiling,’ he added hopefully.

  ‘I’ll keep that in mind. Have a good night, Constable.’ Millar walked towards his office. As he rounded the corner down the hall, he passed by the Captain’s office. ‘Guess I gotta bite the bullet,’ he thought, knocking on the door.

  ‘Yes,’ the Captain called from the other side of the door. Millar let himself in. ‘Ah, Terry, finally dropping off your reports, are ya?’

  ‘Um, not exactly, sir. Not yet. They’re almost done, just need to finish up a couple of things,’ Millar said. He hated doing paperwork. It was probably the worst part of the job, next to doing death notices. He hadn’t become a cop to sit in an office filling in forms. He’d joined to help people and get the worst of the worst off the streets. ‘Sir, I need to take the next couple of days off. I have an engagement out of town.’

  ‘How’s the latest case going? Getting anywhere?’ the Captain asked.

  ‘Nothing so far, sir. I interviewed the husband this morning but I don’t think he had anything to do with it. He seemed pretty shocked. Penner talked to the bus driver who was working that street, but I haven’t spoken with her yet about the interview. We’ll get there. It’s just going to take time.” Millar tried to think of anything else he could tell the Captain. “Oh, and Faye narrowed down the weapon to a couple of options, so we have a few things to look into.’

  ‘That’s good, at least it’s a start. When do you need off?’ the Captain asked, taking a sip of coffee.

  ‘The next two days, sir. Maybe three, so I can spend some time with my daughter. She’s pretty pissed at me right now,’ Millar said, thinking that was kind of an understatement.

  ‘Someone pissed at you? Hard to believe,
’ the Captain said sarcastically. ‘Fine, no problem. Just get me those reports before you leave, okay?’

  ‘I’ll do what I can, sir. Thanks,’ Millar said, hastily leaving the office before the Captain changed his mind. Sitting down at his own desk, he eyed the stack of unfinished files sitting on the desk corner. ‘Crap,’ he thought, overwhelmed by the amount of work he had just promised to do. He grabbed the first file and opened it up, trying to find the motivation to actually work. He started reading the file, but his eyes just glossed over the words, not really making any sense of them. There was a knock at the door.

  ‘Penner! Perfect timing,’ Millar said, relieved to have a distraction.

  ‘Wow, actually doing paperwork? I’ll come back, don’t want to get in the way,’ Penner said.

  ‘Don’t even think about it.” Millar put down his pen and closed the file folder. “So, how’d things go for you today?’

  ‘Not bad. You hungry? I was thinking of getting a pizza or something,’ Penner said. ‘We can discuss the case and call it a work dinner.

  ‘Sounds much better than doing this. Let’s go.’ Millar put the file back on the pile. ‘I’m sure the Captain doesn’t really want these anytime too soon.’

  * * *

  ‘Anything to drink?’ the waitress asked.

  ‘House white and a glass of water, please,’ said Penner.

  ‘Draft beer for me. A large one. Thanks,’ Millar said. The waitress smiled and walked away. ‘So, get anything from the bus driver?’

  ‘Not too much. He only noticed Ms. Wong around 12:50, not on his run before. Didn’t notice anything else out of the norm,’ Penner said, moving her purse to make room for the drinks that had just appeared.

  ‘Shouldn’t be too long for your pizza,’ the waitress said, walking away again.

  ‘You?’ Penner asked, taking a long sip of her wine. ‘Anyone at Ms. Wong’s place?’

  ‘Yeah, we talked with her husband. So, I guess we should start calling her Mrs. Wong. Seemed distraught, as you would expect. Constable Grant is going to do a background check on him tomorrow but I don’t think he’s involved. He looked genuinely surprised by the news. Had all the right reactions. His wife had been out with some co-workers for a going away party. Husband last heard from her around midnight, so that closes down our window to less than an hour. We’re going to want to talk to her friends tomorrow,’ Millar said. He took a mouthful of his beer. It was nice and cold, just what he needed. ‘Speaking of tomorrow, I have to leave town for two days. Then I’m taking a third day off to hang with Tina, if she’ll let me. Things didn’t go so great today.’