By the time Millar had chased off the local news vultures and caught up to Penner, the rain had started to subside.
‘Millar, this is the responding officer, Constable…?’
‘Grant, ma’am,’ replied a young uniform cop, shifting uneasily from one foot to another.
‘So, you were first on scene? What time did the call come in?’ Millar asked, surveying the surroundings again.
‘Didn’t, sir,’ Grant replied.
‘What do you mean? Somebody had to call it in, right?’
‘Well, sir, I actually called it in. I had driven by around, uh…’ Grant pulled a notebook out of his pocket and flipped to the last page of notes ‘…12:25 or so, and I noticed a woman sitting by the statue. I didn’t think much of it at the time—I was heading to a call over on Fifth. Didn’t stay there for too long, someone had complained there was a suspicious character wandering around but it was just a harmless guy heading home after a few beers at the pub. Anyway, at around 1:45, I was heading back this way and I saw she was still there, so I got out to see what was up. When I shone my light at her, she didn’t react at all, just kept staring straight ahead. Didn’t respond to me asking if she was alright either. When I got to her, I poked her on the shoulder with my light. Nothing. I did it again and her head flopped forward and I saw the gash on the back of her head. That’s when I called it in.’
‘Didn’t you try CPR? I notice she’s still sitting upright,’ asked Penner, with a hint of accusation in her voice.
‘No, ma’am. I could see part of her skull was missing and, well, there was grey matter visible. I used to be a paramedic. I knew there was nothing to be done.’ Grant glanced down at his notebook to see if he had written anything else. ‘I did find it a bit strange that there wasn’t a huge pool of blood around her. With a hole that size, there should have been a lot of blood—at least a lot more than what there is.’
‘Well, it has been raining like a bitch. Couldn’t it have washed away somewhat?’ Penner asked as Millar wandered over to take a closer look at the body.
‘Wasn’t raining at the time, ma’am. It didn’t start until later.’ Grant confirmed from his notes.
‘New cops always write down so much,’ Penner thought. She remembered when she was new on the force, she would go through a notebook every couple of weeks. Now, she could make one last for a couple of months. ‘Could she have fallen somewhere, hit her head and stumbled here after the bleeding slowed?’ she asked.
‘Don’t think so, ma’am. With a wound like that, I would say death came pretty darn quick. If nothing else, she wouldn’t have been able to move very far and I searched the immediate area after taping off the scene. Didn’t see blood or anything. Real strange, if you ask me.’
‘Right. Has uniform started knocking on doors to see if anyone saw anything?’ Penner asked, glancing over to see what Millar was doing.
‘Not sure, ma’am, but I can find out. If there’s nothing else…?’ Grant put his notebook back in his pocket and looked around for his Sergeant.
‘That’s good for now, thanks,’ Penner said. She walked over to see Millar. ‘So, what are you thinking?’ Millar had pulled back part of the tarp and was crouched down looking at the victim’s face. The rain had finally stopped.
‘Always a bit creepy when their eyes are still open. Wonder what she saw?’ Millar stood up with a grimace. ‘Look at the size of this gash! There is no way she was going to survive this. Where’s the coroner? We need to move her to see if there’s a lot of blood on her back or road rash or something. Maybe a hit and run?’
‘Maybe. But when I was looking earlier I didn’t notice any marks anywhere except on her head.’ Penner pulled the tarp down all the way. ‘See, clean as a whistle. Her dress still looks like it was just ironed. I really don’t know.’
‘What time did that constable say he first saw her?’ Millar asked, looking around again.
‘Um, just before 12:30 I think. Why?’
‘Well, there’s a bus stop just there,’ Millar said, pointing to his left. The sign was about twenty feet from the statue. ‘What time does the bus stop running at night? After midnight, right?’
‘I think around 1:00,’ Penner said hesitantly. It had been a long time since she had taken the bus. The city had pretty good service, but she didn’t like the fact she always seemed to end up sitting next to someone who smelled bad or didn’t understand the principle of personal space.
‘Right, well then the driver of the bus may be able to narrow down when our girl ended up here. Constable Grant!’ Millar yelled with his booming voice. Grant hurried over.
‘Sir?’
‘I need you to find out what time the bus made its last run past here and who the driver was. I’m going to want to speak to him,’ Millar said.
‘Yes, sir,’ Grant ran off to his car.
‘Ah, Detectives Penner and Millar.’ It was the coroner, Dr. Faye Pelow, a short, stocky woman in her sixties with a face full of character. A face that had seen more than most people could even imagine.
‘Faye, how nice of you to finally join us,’ Millar said sarcastically.
‘Hi, Faye, doing well?’ Penner asked.
‘Probably better than you—I don’t have to put up with him everyday,’ Faye jerked a thumb in Millar’s direction. ‘So, let’s see what we’ve got,’ Faye said, pulling on her black gloves. ‘Well that’s a nasty hit, eh? Not much blood. Rain?’
‘Apparently not. She was covered up before the rain really started,’ Penner said, squatting down beside Faye.
‘Really. Huh. Well, let’s turn her on her side and see what her back’s like, shall we?’ The three of them each carefully took hold of the victim and turned her to her left. Millar shone his light down the back of her dress.
‘No blood?’ he noticed, surprised.
‘Some, but not much. Strange, she would have bled a lot from that hit.’ Faye looked at the dress as they turned the body back to a seated position. ‘No pockets. Why don’t they put pockets on dresses? I’ll never understand why designers think woman don’t need pockets. Did she have a purse or clutch or something?’ Faye asked Penner.
‘Not that we found. Could have been a robbery I guess.’
‘Could have been,’ Faye said, looking over the body. She ran her hand down the front of the victim, reaching down her neck line, feeling around in her bra. ‘Here we go,’ she said, pulling out a driver’s license and some cash. When heading out with no pockets or purse, a bra can hold a surprising amount of stuff. ‘For you, Detective. Don’t say I never gave you anything.’ Faye handed the card and money to Millar.
‘Karen Wong. Thirty-two years old. Well, at least we have a name,’ Millar said, writing down her address before putting the items into an evidence bag he took out of his jacket pocket. ‘Let us know when you get her on the table, Faye. I’d like to be there.’
‘Sure, should be sometime later today, maybe this afternoon,’ Faye said, looking at Karen Wong’s eyes, which were still clear, almost alert.
‘Well, I guess we should head to Ms. Wong’s place and see if we can get anyone up,’ Millar said.
‘I was really hoping to head home, have a shower and a quick nap. Feels like this night’s not going to end,’ Penner said. ‘Thanks, Faye, always a pleasure. Millar, I’ll follow you, you know where we’re going?’
‘Yup, shouldn’t take too long to get there,’ Millar said. As they walked back towards their cars, Millar could see Arden wandering around, still trying to get the scoop.
Fifteen minutes later, Millar and Penner pulled up outside of Ms. Wong’s modestly-sized house. It was a typical house for the area with a brick front, fake shutters, and attached to the neighbour’s house by the garage.
‘Well, that was some fancy driving. I don’t think you actually stopped at any of those red lights,’ Penner said as she walked up to Millar.
‘I looked, no one was coming. The streets are like a ghost town this time of night,’ Millar said, looking at the house. ‘No lights on, but I guess that’s not too surprising.’
‘Maybe she lived alone,’ Penner suggested as she got to the front door. She rang the door bell and listened to see if any noise could be heard inside. Millar was standing back to get a good look at the house to see if any lights came on. Nothing.
‘Try again,’ Millar said, still watching the house. Penner rang the bell three times in succession, then listened again, trying to have a look through the window next to the door, but it was too dark to see anything.
‘Either no one’s home or they’re ignoring us,’ Penner said. ‘What say we just leave our card and come back in the morning. I’m beat.’
Millar checked his watch. ‘Sounds good to me. How ‘bout we meet at the station at oh nine hundred?’
‘Perfect,’ Penner said, pulling one of her business cards out of her coat pocket and sliding it into the door jam beside the handle.