Kennicott was right about Officer Sheppard, Greene thought as she flew through the city, siren blaring, horn honking.
He’d just gotten off the phone with Parish and briefed Kennicott. Alison had been texting and had warned him what to expect, but as their car approached the bridge, the scene was even more chaotic than he’d imagined. TV vans, police cars, demonstrators, and cars stranded in the middle of it all were packed on the bridge.
“Good work, Officer,” Greene said to Sheppard, as she threw the patrol car into park. “Stick with us.”
“Sure thing,” she said, hopping out of the car with them. They rushed up to the front of the bridge.
“You two get in position,” Greene said to Kennicott, “but wait for my call.”
“Where are you going?” Kennicott asked him.
Greene pointed to a path by the bridge. “I need to confirm something. It won’t take long. Grab some officers to help you and be ready.”
He headed down the path. Dent was sitting in his usual spot on the bench waiting for him.
“You forget the tent, Detective?” Dent said as his way of greeting.
“It’s been a little busy,” Greene said.
Above them they could hear the noise from the demonstration on the bridge.
Dent still had his club-like stick with him. He pointed it skyward. “Doc Photo Op has sure kicked up a shit storm, hasn’t he?”
“You mean Dr. Burns?”
“Doc Photo Op. That’s what everyone on the street calls him. The guy is everywhere. Shouldn’t you be up there? You’re missing the parade.”
“I’ve got people covering it.”
They shook hands. Greene had two fifty-dollar bills in his palm, and Dent pocketed them.
“Give one to Daphne,” he said.
“She’ll like that better than Tim Horton cards.”
“Did you know Melissa Copeland?”
“Law Lady? You see that headline in the Sun? ‘Hodgson’s Homeless Ex Murdered’?” Dent spit on the ground in disgust.
“I saw it.” Greene had seen all the tasteless headlines about Copeland. The press only cared about the politics and the money and ignored what had happened: someone had died a terrible death. To say nothing of the fact that she was leaving behind a young daughter.
“I hadn’t seen her for a while,” Dent said. “She helped everyone with their legal problems. I asked Daphne about her for you. She told me the word on the street was that Law Lady got crazier and crazier.”
“We heard that.”
Dent took his stick and pointed toward the office towers downtown. “Once upon a time she worked there. Big firm. Top biller.” His voice trailed off.
They sat silently for a while. Greene knew that Melissa’s story echoed Dent’s own.
“Daphne said she had a kid she never got to see,” Dent said.
“Daughter. Daphne tell you anything else?”
“She said no one really knew when Law Lady would appear, and no one knew where she stayed most nights. I wish I had more for you, Detective.”
“When was the last time Daphne saw her?”
“The day before she got herself killed. Everyone was leaving the valley after the second murder. Law Lady was telling people they didn’t have to go. She said she knew who the killer was, and that she knew a cop who was real high up. This cop was going to take care of things. Any idea who that might have been, Detective?”
Dent rarely made eye contact but he turned and looked straight at Greene.
Greene stared straight back at him.
Dent chuckled. He had a loud, hearty laugh.
“Detective,” he said, “you’re one of a kind.”
Greene laughed. He pointed back up the path. “Is this the only way down here from the bridge?”
“To this spot.” Dent swung his stick back behind him. “Get over this ridge and there’s a million ways to go.”
“Thanks,” Greene said, taking out his cell phone to call Kennicott. “Do me a favour, keep an eye out for the good doctor for me.”
“Will do,” Dent said. “And Detective, it’s getting cold. Don’t forget the tent next time.”