Drug Possession

After the less-than-stellar score from the jewellery store last month, Gord and his nefarious friends were poised to hit their next target and make up for lost profits. Given that their last efforts were foiled by a dog, that made the target all-the-more satisfying.

It was late in the evening, and such was small-town life, most businesses were closed for the day; at least the small businesses lining the main street, anyway. That was all that mattered. Breaking in during the middle of the night would have been highly suspicious, but not every target was suitable to break into during office hours. It took a lot of skill and recon to determine the best course of action. Gord was proud of himself for developing that skill over a lifetime of crime.

“Get in, get what we came for, and get out. No funny business.” Gord pulled his ski mask down over his face, though if Earle did his job right this time, the security cameras in the area should have been rendered useless. Still, better safe than sorry. They learned that the hard way last time.

“Yeah, yeah. We know the drill. I’ll give the signal when I have the alarm deactivated.” Earle hopped out of the passenger seat and scanned his surroundings before proceeding across the empty parking lot.

A few minutes later, he was flashing the predetermined hand signal at his mates to let them know the coast was clear. The big man and Nelson disembarked, striding across the gravel to join Earle.

For Gord, picking a lock was child’s play, so within seconds, the three men were headed inside the building. Unlike most of their targets, none of them had ever been in the back of this one, so they were going in blind. With headlamps shining light on the space, they made their best educated guess which rooms to hit first.

Decades of crime had paid off, because the first lock they picked led to exactly what they were looking for. A few swipes of their arms and their duffel bags were loaded with loot, sure to fetch a pretty penny on the black market.

They opened two more doors before finding an office, where they found some cash and other valuable goods.

With no interference, the men were headed out the way they had come in; not a single soul was any wiser about their activities. That was exactly how it was meant to happen. The small man must have gotten the message to stay out of their business.

Gord jumped in the driver’s seat of their new vehicle and breathed a sigh of relief that his crew was back at the top of their game. A feeling of redemption washed over him as he drove off into the darkness.

No stupid dog was going to stop them.

Maybe retirement would happen as planned. More importantly, his reputation was still intact. He hadn’t lost his touch after all.

Constables Picault and Billings were on patrol in Alliston when they received a call from dispatch about some suspicious activity downtown. They were only a mile away, stopping for a break at the only twenty-four-hour coffee shop in town, so they grabbed their takeout cups and headed in the direction of the complaint.

The caller dialled the direct number for the police rather than 911, unsure if it was an emergency, so there was no need to turn on sirens and make a ruckus through town. If something was fishy, it was better to arrive covertly, anyway. They started by driving around the front of the business in question, but upon slowing, they didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.

There was a security light on inside, but that was no different from any other night, as some stupid law makes it necessary to leave a light on in case of a break in so you can’t be held liable if a criminal hurt themselves. Picault was always of the mindset that if someone broke in where they weren’t supposed to be and injured themselves, it served them right. How anyone decided that was the fault of the property owner baffled him, but his job was to uphold laws, not write them.

Regardless, there were no movements inside, no broken windows, no alarms. The two officers agreed to drive around back so they could get out to investigate on foot.

When they arrived behind the building, they parked at a nearby salon, notified dispatch of their location and intentions, then exited the vehicle to inspect the area.

Just when they thought there had been a false alarm, Picault pulled on the door of the building, and it opened easily. He signalled to Billings to join him as he entered the space, gun and flashlight drawn. Methodically working their way through the hallway, they found most doors locked, except three. The last open door belonged to a near-empty stock room.

The Magic Men had struck again.

Sometime later, Picault and Billings were joined by their Detective Staff Sergeant and a litany of other OPP members combing the area for clues. Picault knew the men had two more planned robberies in the area after the cell phone discovery at the jewellery store, so he was furious that it was knocked down to one. The men struck their target earlier than he expected. He should have known because their MO all along was to keep everyone guessing. They obviously put a lot of planning into making sure no one else could anticipate when or where they’d strike next.

“The owner is on his way here now so he can get us a stock list and we can figure out what these guys took,” Picault relayed to the detective in charge after calling the listed property owner.

“Thanks. I’m getting sick of these guys.” Detective Staff Sergeant Chen shook his head, his lips set in a tight line. He’d been working hard on this case since the first break in at The Gadget Factory more than three months earlier. He’d aged tremendously in that time.

Everyone on the force wanted to stop these guys, but with each passing day, it felt more hopeless.

“You and me both. They’re always two steps ahead.”

When a middle-aged stocky man arrived and provided ID to get past the officers patrolling the perimeter, he introduced himself to Detective Staff Sergeant Chen and Constable Picault. “Good… uhh… I guess, good morning, gentlemen. I’m Alvin Harper.”

Picault reached out to shake the man’s hand. “Sorry to disturb you, Dr. Harper, and to meet under these circumstances.”

Alvin nodded at Picault but seemed more bothered by the condition of his clinic than being roused from bed in the middle of the night. “I appreciate you calling. What do you need from me?”

The detective took a step forward to address Dr. Harper. “If you could find an updated stock list, we’ll start comparing what you have to determine what’s missing. Also, if you can take a look around to see if anything is out of place and help one of our constables retrieve your security footage for the last few hours, that would be great.”

“Sure thing. Whatever you need.” Alvin turned toward the nearby reception area and planted himself in a black leather computer chair behind a tall birch-veneer desk.

Picault took some time to study the lobby area of the clinic, noting the camera placements, security system stickers on the windows, and other clues that would have given criminals some insight into the facility.

A few minutes of clacking on the keyboard and the printer roared to life, shooting out a four-page list of inventory. “Here you are, Constable.”

“Thank you, Sir.” Picault retrieved the papers from Alvin. “Could we retrieve that security footage?”

“Of course.” Alvin trudged his way to his office, where he saw the damage done for the first time. They had ransacked his filing cabinet and desk drawers. “I had our petty cash in my desk, so I’m assuming they got that.” Alvin’s face paled. “And my prescription pads.”

Picault understood the significance of that. With a doctor’s official prescription pad, it was easy for criminals to prescribe themselves whatever pharmaceuticals they wanted. “I’m sorry, Dr. Harper. We’re doing everything we can to catch these guys.”

Alvin nodded with a grim smile, rifled through some files amongst the chaos, and handed a manila folder to Picault. “Here. Those are the codes and account information for the security company. A lot of good it did me.” The stout man dropped his chin and ambled out of the room on the verge of tears.

Picault was feeling gutted for the good doctor. Each time he responded to a call for a break and enter, it was never easy. While some people overlook the trauma that it can cause, assuming because it’s not a violent crime, it’s only material things at stake, but that’s not true. Picault had witnessed hundreds of people over the years struggle to return to a sense of peace and security in their own home or business. The Magic Men were violating the people of his good town in an unforgivable way. With renewed determination, he walked back toward the stock room to begin the tedious task of matching supplies with the list.

At some point, in the hours Picault was creating a master list of what was stolen, Detective Staff Sergeant Chen excused Dr. Harper with the understanding he could be reached by telephone or come back should they need him. When Picault exited the small, sterile stock room with his newly compiled list, he tracked down the detective to explain what he had discovered.

He tucked his pen into his breast pocket and relayed the pertinent information. “So, they took a few vials of Pentobarbital, Metacam, and Amoxicillin. It looks like they stole the entire stock of Ketamine, Acepromazine, Propofol, Clavamox, Diazepam, and Oxytocin. They snatched a few prescription pads, some sterile scalpels, scissors, and gauze, and from what Dr. Harper said, about $1200 in cash.”

The detective stared at Picault, appearing nauseous. “Have you looked up what those are for?”

“I did, Sir. Pentobarbital is part of the cocktail used to euthanize animals. The others are forms of anesthetics or tranquilizers, aside from amoxicillin which is an antibiotic… and”—Picault flipped through his notes—“Oxytocin, which is used to stimulate labour or lactation in animals.”

After a brief pause, the detective chuckled. “I’ve heard of vet clinics having oxytocin stolen before because criminals often confuse it for OxyContin. Serves ’em right.”

Picault snickered in response. “Maybe anyone desperate enough to take it will have enough drugs in their system, they can get high from breastfeeding off of each other.”

Both men went silent, staring off into space before the detective blinked rapidly and shook his head. “You just pictured it too, didn’t you?”

Picault shuddered. “Yep. Let’s never mention this again. Ever.”

“Deal.”

By morning light, the entire crime scene had been processed and there was not a clue to be found beyond the list of what the thieves stole. Picault had been around long enough to know you couldn’t assume who the guilty party was without evidence, but the complete lack of it suggested his initial guess was correct.

These men needed to be stopped, and there was only one more chance to make that happen. He was going to need a miracle.

Or a karmic intervention.