A Striking Death (16 page)

forty-eight

The old couple’s name was Horgan, William and Verna Horgan. Drumm and Lori had followed the two of them back into their home which was right across the street from Celeste Chappell’s house. The Horgans were clearly suffering from the cold and were grateful when Drumm had suggested they move indoors.

“Is this the room where you looked out?” asked Drumm. He and Mr. Horgan were standing in the living room by the window.

“Yes. We’d opened the curtains a little, as you can see, and we were both looking out when we saw somebody running.”

From the couch where she was sitting beside Mrs. Horgan, Lori asked, “Why were you looking out in the first place?”

Mr. Horgan turned to face her. “Because of the gunshot, of course.”

“You knew it was a shot, and not fireworks or something else?” Drumm asked.

“I was in the Canadian Forces,” said Mr. Horgan. “I know a gunshot when I hear one.” He pulled his bathrobe tighter around him. He was tall and thin with a full head of silver hair. He carried himself with authority, Drumm had noticed, and held himself very straight.

“Okay, go on,” said Drumm.

“We were in bed when we heard it. I got up immediately and came in here. It sounded like it was nearby, maybe across the street. Verna followed me in here and we were both looking out to see what was going on. And we saw the fellow standing out on the sidewalk, looking up the side of Celeste’s house.”

“Was that person dead?” asked Mrs. Horgan from the couch. She was as thin as her husband but much shorter. They were both sixty-four, according to the information they had given. “He looked dead when they loaded him into the ambulance.”

Drumm kept his face carefully blank. “No, Mrs. Horgan. He’s not dead, just injured. But your neighbour Celeste is alright.” Then he addressed her husband. “You saw the suspect out on the sidewalk, you said. What else did you see?”

“He was bent over, and he was holding his left side, like he had been hit. He was looking down at the ground or himself maybe, and then back up Celeste’s walkway. He was there for maybe ten or twenty seconds.” Horgan looked squarely at Drumm. “He
was
hit, I’d swear to it. Was it him that was shot? Or the other fellow?”

“Not just yet, sir,” said Drumm. “Carry on, please. What happened then?”

“He took off down the street, that way. He was running, well, shuffling, really.” Horgan pointed down the road. I couldn’t see him any more after a while and that’s when we called 9-1-1. At least, Verna did.”

Lori spoke to Mrs. Horgan. “Were you looking out the whole time, too?”

“Yes, we both were.”

“You saw the same thing?” Lori continued.

“Yes.”

“What did this person look like?” asked Lori.

“We couldn’t see his face,” Horgan said. “He had a hood pulled down and he mostly had his back turned to us. I couldn’t tell whether he was white, black or Chinese. Medium height, say five foot ten. He looked like he was a large man, though. Maybe one hundred eighty pounds? But it was hard to tell because of the dark clothing he was wearing. Like maybe a black sweatshirt and black pants.” Horgan stopped.

Drumm asked, “How about his hands? And his feet? Did you notice what he was wearing? Boots? Shoes?”

Horgan closed his eyes to think, and then opened them. “No, can’t remember the hands.” Then he snapped his fingers. “Running shoes, white.” He looked pleased with himself. “Just remembered that. You saw them too, right, Verna?”

Mrs. Horgan looked doubtful. “Not really, Bill. I don’t think so.”

Drumm was impressed. “That’s an excellent description, sir. Very helpful. Thank you.”

“That’s from twenty years in the military. Comes in handy now and then.” He looked pleased. “Don’t forget about the hunched over part. He went down the street in a bit of a crouch, kind of crab-like. He had his hand to his side. His left side. That boy was hurt, I know it.”

“Yes, sir, he was,” said Drumm. “There’s blood all along the sidewalk.”

“You said boy,” said Lori. “Did you mean that, or was it just a figure of speech?”

Horgan looked startled. “I never saw his face so I don’t know. It’s just an impression I have, that he was young. Partly because of the clothing, I guess.”

“What about you, Mrs. Horgan?” asked Lori.

“I don’t know…” Her voice trailed off. “He didn’t move like an old person, though.”

“Right,” said Drumm, moving towards the door. “We appreciate your assistance, both of you. Thank you. Try to get some sleep now.”

“And call us if you remember anything more,” added Lori.

Back out on the street, Drumm and Singh pulled their coats tight against the cold.

“Not often we get such a good description as that,” said Lori. “I’ll get the new information about the shoes out right away.”

Drumm stood by himself on the street in front of the Horgan house and took in the scene. It was quieter now and many of the emergency vehicles and spectators had disappeared. The fisties were still busy, he could see, and officers and detectives were actively searching up the road where the attacker had fled. By now he knew that as many residents as possible would have been questioned. If anything important had been discovered, he would have been told, which meant that they hadn’t found the suspect’s vehicle or even received a description of it, to see if it were the same white van. It had probably been parked over on a neighbouring street, as Lori suspected, where everyone was asleep. Wouldn’t matter – they’d get the guy. It was just a matter of time.

forty-nine

At six thirty in the morning, the Violent Crimes Unit was normally a quiet place. This Saturday morning it was a hive of activity. Phones were ringing constantly, and there was a stream of people coming and going. A police officer had been nearly killed – all available resources were being utilized to find the attacker. And everything was being coordinated through the Violent Crimes Unit. The new whiteboards had been updated and one whole side had been devoted to the latest case, the knifing of Detective Richard McDonald.

Drumm had returned from the scene of the crime scene and was sitting in his office. Every bone in his body was tired; even his eyeballs were aching. He’d stopped for the usual hot drinks and treats, but so far the caffeine didn’t seem to be helping.

Lori came in and sank wearily into a chair. She accepted her tea gratefully. She, like Drumm, was still wearing the same clothes she had put on twenty-four hours earlier.

“Anything new?” she asked.

Drumm shook his head. “He’s still in critical condition. But at least he’s still alive. As far as the stalker’s concerned, everybody’s looking, but nobody’s finding. We couldn’t locate any security cameras anywhere near Celeste’s house, no nearby gas stations or red light cameras. We’re drawing a blank on the vehicle, which presumably is a white van. There’s nothing to go on.”

Sue Oliver, a detective in the Sex Crimes Unit, poked her head into Drumm’s office. “Hey, you two. Staff Inspector wants to see you.”

“Susie, take a seat. Have a muffin.” Drumm waved her to the other chair. “You know Lori Singh?”

Oliver perched on the edge of the chair and took a muffin. “We’ve met.”

“Chappell wants us both?” Drumm asked. “Anything in particular?”

“Well, I’m not supposed to say.” Oliver took a bite of the muffin, and then wiped crumbs off her face. “This is tasty. Haven’t eaten yet today. Guess most of us haven’t.”

“Come on, Sue.”

Oliver finished the muffin, rubbed her hands together and sat back in her chair. She was a tall, muscular woman in her early forties. She started re-tying her grey-blonde hair back into the ponytail from which it had escaped. “Chappell’s office is a zoo right now, so you can take your time getting over there. I’ll give you the heads-up. I’ve been detailed to take over the investigation into Dick’s attack.” She put up her hand to still Drumm’s protest. “Don’t shoot the messenger. It wasn’t my idea. But Chappell thinks you have enough on your plate with those two murders.”

Drumm was annoyed but he had to agree it made sense. Sue Oliver had worked with the VCU before and knew what she was doing. And they were now short one detective. “Will it do any good to argue?”

Oliver smiled. “Give it a try, by all means. And pretend to be surprised, will you? But I don’t think you’ll get anywhere.” She leaned forward. “I’m sorry as hell about Dick. I don’t know him well but I guess you do. Must be tough on you.”

“I imagine that’s partly what the Staff Inspector is thinking,” said Lori. “He’s trying to make it easier on Nick.”

Oliver switched her attention to Lori. “Could be. Chappell didn’t share his innermost feelings. I’d better talk to Celeste again and see if I learn anything new.” She stood up. “Anyway, you didn’t hear it from me.” She looked at each of them in turn. “Both of you look like you’ve been run over by a truck. You need to get some rest. When Chappell’s done with you, go home. We’re going to get this guy. You can count on it.” She left Drumm’s office.

Drumm stood up. “Come on, let’s get it over with.”

“I’m in the middle of a shitstorm here, Nick.” Staff Inspector Chappell looked and sounded harassed. “I’m getting it from all sides. And I probably deserve it, too. I fucked this up, big-time.”

Drumm tried to look sympathetic.

Chappell went on. “Celeste wanted this handled quietly, and look what’s happened. The media want to know who he was and what he was doing there. I’ve had two conversations already with the chief. He wants to know the same thing,
and
why he didn’t have a partner,
and
why he was in my wife’s backyard. Plus a dozen other things.” He ran his hand through his hair, looking very old. “I’ve arranged for Sue Oliver to be detailed to the Unit, and she’s going to be lead on Dick’s case.”

Drumm tried to speak but Chappell interrupted him.

“Before you say anything, just listen. I need you two to close those two open murders you’re investigating. That has to happen fast. We need some good news around here. Three violent attacks in a week! And one of them a detective. It’s a shitstorm, like I said.”

Lori said, “They’ll find Dick’s attacker, sir.”

Chappell turned on her and said sharply, “Everyone keeps saying that but it hasn’t happened yet, has it? That bastard needs to be found. Every hour that goes by makes things worse.” He faced Drumm again. “And I want Billinger’s and Levine’s killer caught, too. Get it done!”

Drumm hid his feelings and said, “Of course.” He nodded to Lori and the two of them left the Staff Inspector to his troubles.

Back in Drumm’s office, Lori leaned up against the doorframe and sighed wearily. “So, what do you want me to do first?”

Drumm was taking his coat off the back of his chair. “Same thing as me. Go home, and get some sleep. We’ve been up all night; we’re a couple of zombies. Grab a few hours rest, and then we’ll talk.”

Lori made as if to protest, then thought better of it. “You’re right. I’m running on fumes. But let’s hope Chappell doesn’t discover that the first thing we did after his pep talk was go home.”

“He won’t find out from me,” said Drumm.

fifty

Drumm knew something was wrong as soon as he opened his front door. He was carrying a helium-filled balloon with a yellow smiley face on it. It was all he could think of at the last moment to try to make things easier with Emily. But here was Will, almost frantic in his greeting, batting Drumm’s leg with his head and whining. He started running around in little circles and yipping constantly.

“What’s the matter, Will? Do you have to go pee?”

Will immediately ran through the kitchen to the back door. Drumm tied the balloon to a kitchen chair and then followed the dog, which started scratching to be let out. As soon as the door was opened, Will raced outside to the closest grassy area and lifted a leg. He urinated for a very long time. Then he sniffed what he had just done and without looking at Drumm, trotted down to a favourite spot under a tree. He squatted and relieved himself of another burden.

Goddamn, Emily! Why hadn’t she let him out? Drumm went and scooped up Will’s deposit with the little trowel he kept handy and threw it into the hedge. Then he played chase with the dog until both of them were panting. Will clearly had a surplus of energy; Drumm did not.

Back in the house, Drumm took his jacket off and called Emily’s name but received no response. There was no note on the fridge or table either, their usual way of communicating. He checked his phone again for messages – nothing.

He went into the bedroom, shaking his head and unbuttoning his shirt. She’d left in a huff, that was obvious. Will was following him everywhere, watching his every move.

Naked, he padded into the bathroom for a badly needed shower. He stopped abruptly. Something was different. All of Emily’s stuff was gone, he suddenly realized. No clothes hanging up; her towel was gone too. Her shampoos and soaps had disappeared from the shower stall. He opened the bathroom cabinet, knowing what he would find. It was half empty; all of Emily’s things removed.

Back in the bedroom, he checked the closet, finding as expected that all of Emily’s clothing and shoes were missing. Drumm sat down heavily on the bed, realization sinking in. She must have packed up and left soon after he did the night before. She’d gathered up all her things and walked out, and she had left Will to look after himself. Which meant he hadn’t been fed either.

Drumm put his underwear back on and went into the kitchen. There was no bowl on the floor. He got out the bag of kibble and poured an extra large mound of Will’s food into his bowl. Then he sat down on the floor with his back to a cupboard and watched the dog eat. Will ate his breakfast rapidly, looked at Drumm to see if more was coming, and then came over for a head scratch. Drumm rubbed the dog’s head between his ears and boxed with him a bit while he thought about this sudden change in his life.

Emily was gone. Moved out, lock, stock and hair dryer. Again. And this time, he had precipitated it. He shouldn’t be surprised, not after what he had said to her. What should he do about it, if anything? He suddenly realized he was too tired to care, let alone make any kind of intelligent decision.

He got up slowly and painfully and went to take a shower. Then he stopped abruptly. He padded back to the kitchen, untied the smiley-faced balloon from its chair and slid open the door to the backyard. He put the balloon out the door and let it slip from his grasp. He watched as it sailed up into the morning air and disappeared out of sight. Then he closed the door.