CHAPTER EIGHTEEN


Penner had Grant drop her off at the precinct. It was already almost five o’clock, and, even though he wanted to try and track down Dave’s wife, his patrol shift started at eleven, so Penner told him to go home and get a few hours of sleep if he could.

Penner was still running on caffeine, so she figured she might as well use the energy while she had it. She probably had a couple of hours in her before she crashed. Down the hall from her office was a lounge area with a vending machine. On top of her coffee addiction, Penner had a real sweet tooth and couldn’t resist a chocolate bar in the afternoon. ‘Probably not the best habit, but it could be worse,’ she thought as she put her change in the machine, ‘I could be a crackhead.’ That was one way to justify it.

As she was about to leave the lounge, the early news came on the television.

Breaking news this evening, police have confirmed that there is a serial killer walking the streets, preying on women. We now go to Arden Wall with the story. Arden?’

‘Thanks, Sally. That’s right, last night the body of another woman was found, murdered and left on the street. Ottawa detectives have confirmed that this is the work of the same person who killed Karen Wong, a young mother, just the other night.’

‘No!’ Penner yelled at the screen. An officer walking past the lounge stopped and looked in to see if everything was okay. Seeing the look on the detective’s face, he figured it best to just keep on walking. ‘I never confirmed anything! We don’t need this right now!’ She could feel her phone buzzing in her pocket. She took it out and looked at the number—it was the Captain. ‘Great,’ she said. Instead of answering, she figured she would just go see him. There was a chance he might go easier on her in person. As she started walking toward the Captain’s office, her phone vibrated again. This time, checking the number, she decided to answer.

‘Hey, Millar,’ said Penner, slowing her walk.

So, a serial killer? I’m gone for what, two days and you have a serial killer? What did I miss?’

‘So you saw, eh? Yeah, we had another woman killed last night. Friggin’ Arden must’ve overheard me,’ Penner said, almost at the Captain’s office. ‘But, for the record, I said I hope we don’t have a serial killer. You know how he likes to twist your words.’

Better than anyone, I think. So, are the two murders related?’

‘I think so,’ Penner said. ‘I hope they aren’t but my gut says they are. When are you back in the office, so I can fill you in?’

I think I’ll come in tomorrow.’

Weren’t you supposed to hang out with Tina tomorrow?’ Penner asked, standing awkwardly in the Captain’s doorway. He saw her and motioned her in. She held up a finger to indicate she needed a minute.

Well, that was my idea, but apparently not hers.’

‘Ha! Kids. Okay, I gotta go. The Captain wants to see me, for some unknown reason. See you in the morning…if he doesn’t suspend me, or worse,’ Penner said, ending the call and walking into the Captain’s office.

‘Sir, I am so sorry for saying anything about a serial killer. I had no idea Arden was there,’ Penner apologised.

‘Don’t worry about it. Obviously it’s not ideal, and we may have a bit of a panic on our hands, but PR can deal with it. They did call the newsdesk this afternoon to try to convince them not to run the story, but the station felt the story was too compelling,’ the Captain said. ‘They didn’t want to sit on it in case someone else reported the story first.’

Penner let out a small sigh of relief. She had thought the Captain was going to be really angry, even after their talk earlier.

‘So, how’s the investigation going? Any suspects?’ the Captain asked.

‘Well, we went and talked to the latest victim’s husband today,’ said Penner.

‘You and Constable Grant, was it?’ the Captain asked.

‘Yes, sir,’ Penner said. ‘So, we went to see him at his job. He works over at the Bank of Canada. As a security guard. Interestingly, he carries a baton and stun gun, which we believe are the weapons used in killing his wife. The first victim was killed with the same type of club, too.’

‘Are you ready to bring him in?’ the Captain asked.

‘Not yet, sir. I don’t think we really have enough. I’d like to see if his story about his wife’s whereabouts checks out. Also, I’d like to see what other people have to say about their relationship. He said they had some problems, but I want to see if they were worse than he let on.’

‘Sounds good. Anything else?’

‘Well, the two victims did definitely know each other, so…’ Penner hesitated. The Captain’s look told her she didn’t need to finish her thought.

‘Right. Well, start building a map of all their mutual friends, mutual enemies, hobbies, whatever you can find. Let’s try and figure this out before someone else ends up dead,’ the Captain said.

‘Will do, sir,’ Penner said.

‘Do you need extra resources on this one?’ asked the Captain.

‘Well, Millar’s back tomorrow,’ Penner said. ‘I thought the other detectives were busy with the jewellery heists?’ Over the last three months, there had been a rash of high profile break-ins at jewellery stores and diplomats’ houses around the city.

‘Yeah, they are,’ the Captain said. ‘What if we put this Constable Grant on full-time? You seem to think quite highly of him.’

‘Constable Grant?’ Penner only had to think for a minute. ‘He could work. He’s keen and good at taking orders. Thank you, sir.’

‘No problem. I’ll get in touch with his Sergeant and have him report to you, what, tomorrow morning?’ the Captain said, picking up the phone.

‘That would work,’ said Penner, standing up. ‘Tell him to meet me at oh nine hundred in my office. And to bring coffee.’

* * *

Oblivious to all that was going on, Grant returned to the precinct just in time for his overnight shift. After changing into his uniform, he grabbed a coffee from the kitchen and headed to the meeting room for roll-call and to find out what beat he’d be assigned for the night. Usually he was down in the market, a patrol he particularly enjoyed. There was always an interesting mix of tourists and locals in the area until the bars closed around two in the morning. Tonight was the night most of the bars had live music, so the streets would still be busy after last call. A lot of bar patrons wandering the streets also meant that a lot of undesirables came out too, trying to either sell drugs or steal purses and wallets. It could make for a busy night, but at least it was usually entertaining and went by pretty quickly.

Grant made it to the meeting room before the Sergeant had started and found a seat beside Constable Curry. ‘Hey Spicy, how’s it going?’

‘Hey, Grant,’ Constable Curry replied. ‘Not bad. Bit surprised to see you here. I figured you’d only go to detective meetings these days.’ The Constable beside them chuckled.

‘Funny,’ Grant said. ‘Are you guys hearing anything on the streets about the latest murder? Anyone talking at all?’

‘Just hearing it’s a serial killer. A couple of the daytime drinkers said they heard it was a big guy that did it, but that’s it. No descriptions or anything, so I don’t know where that rumour is coming from,’ Constable Curry said.

‘Huh. I heard the same thing from a homeless guy about the first victim,’ said Grant. ‘Do me a favour and keep asking around in your area. Someone must have seen something.’

‘Will do, Detective,’ Constable Curry said, getting a high-five from the other Constable.

‘Seriously? Look, I was just helping out. I’m still one of you, working the beat like always, alright?’ Grant said as the Sergeant walked in to start the meeting.

‘Evening gents, ladies. So, first off, I got a call from the Captain this afternoon,’ the Sergeant started. ‘Constable Grant, you are being re-assigned. Report to Detective Penner tomorrow morning at oh nine hundred. Bring coffee.’

‘Ah, you were right, you’re not a detective, you’re a waiter!’ Constable Curry said, laughing. Grant gave him a shot to the arm.

‘Uh, sir, what about my patrol tonight?’ Grant asked.

‘No patrol for you tonight,’ the Sergeant replied. ‘The Captain said you have tonight off and are to start with the detective tomorrow. I’m not sure for how long.’

‘Okay. Thank you, sir.’ Grant got up and walked towards the door. ‘Enjoy your late night, Spicy!’ he added as he was leaving.

‘Well, this is unexpected,’ Grant thought to himself in the hallway. He wasn’t tired. He had actually taken Penner’s advice and slept before his shift. Even though he knew he should just go home and rest for the next day, he decided against it.

* * *

Tina checked her phone as she walked up the street to her house. It was almost one in the morning. If her dad was home, he would be pissed, but Millar’s car wasn’t in the laneway. He was still at the conference and Tina didn’t expect him home until that afternoon. Still, he had come back early from trips before, and there was a chance he could have parked in the garage, so she made sure to be quiet. She carefully unlocked the door and stepped inside, turning on a single light in the hallway—just enough to see where she was going. Stepping quietly over to the door to the garage, she slowly opened it, willing it not to creak or squeak. No car. She was alone. She walked to the laundry room, stripped off everything she was wearing and threw her clothes in the washing machine, along with the clothes she had in her bag. It was past time to do some laundry. ‘And a shower would be good, too,’ she thought, walking upstairs.

After a quick rinse, Tina was towelling off when she heard the front door open. ‘Crap,’ she thought. He did come home early. She quickly ran to her room, put on her robe and went downstairs. She found Millar standing in the living room, sorting through the mail that had come in while he’d been away. He looked up in surprise as she leaned in the doorway.

‘Hey, Dad. I wasn’t expecting you home until this afternoon. Conference end early?’ she asked, adjusting her wig.

‘Uh, yeah. Sort of. I could have stayed, but I heard we had another murder, so I figured I’d see if Penner needed a hand,’ Millar said. ‘What are you doing up? And is that the washing machine that I hear?’

‘Yeah, we had a late practice. I needed to wash up my tights for next week’s match,’ Tina said. There was something about the way she said it that made Millar not believe her. But that was kind of typical when talking to a teenager.

‘At one in the morning? Couldn’t it wait until tomorrow?’ Millar asked.

‘I didn’t want it stinking up my bag,’

‘Right. Are you staying up to put it in the dryer?’ Millar asked.

‘That’s the plan. It’s not like it’s a school night,’ Tina said, tightening the belt on her robe and turning to leave the room. Millar’s phone rang. ‘Well, that can only be one person at this time of night. Typical. I guess it was nice seeing you for a couple of minutes.’ And with that, she climbed the stairs back up to her room.

‘Glad I came home,’ Millar thought, and answered his phone.