“Connie Crane. Is she as good as you?”
“When it comes to homicides, I bet she’s better. Homicide is her field of expertise. Mine is organized crime.”
“How do you know it isn’t organized crime if you don’t look into it?”
“Honey, come on. Think about it. What you have told me about Melvin. It doesn’t make sense to involve organized crime figures.”
“Right. Proves what I was saying earlier. All this crap about it being looked at as closely as if it was the mayor. That’s what it is. Crap!”
“I’m not feeding you crap. You know me better than that,” said Jack quietly.
They slowly drove up and down several alleys before spotting a crumpled green sleeping bag lying in a pile near the bottom of a wooden hydro pole.
“That’s it, I’m sure,” said Natasha.
“We’ll just wait in the car until I-HIT gets here,” said Jack.
Moments later, Connie was the first to arrive, and Jack and Natasha got out of their car to greet her.
Connie used her flashlight to closely examine the area while Jack stood with his arm wrapped around Natasha. Her beam caught a sheet of plastic the wind had blown against the side of a Dumpster a short distance away.
“Bet he used that to try and keep dry,” said Connie. “When the rest of the team gets here we’ll bring that in and print it for —”
The mournful cry of an animal in distress erupted briefly and went quiet.
“What the hell was that?” questioned Connie.
“That could be Winston,” said Natasha. “Melvin had a cat named Winston.”
“It sounded like it came from around here,” said Connie, walking over and gingerly lifting a corner of the sleeping bag. The sound erupted again. Louder and in more pain.
Jack, Natasha, and Connie bent down to look as Connie shone her flashlight inside the bag. Winston lay inside, his eyes blinking at the light. His head twisted and turned as he tried to get away, but his legs didn’t move.
“I’ll get him to a vet,” said Jack.
“His back and spinal cord are broken,” said Natasha. “He needs to be put down.”
“It’s only 4:30,” said Connie. “You won’t get a vet much before nine.”
Winston uttered another long low mournful sound, ending only when he sneezed and coughed up more blood.
“We think the victim was beaten with a bat,” said Connie. “Must have been when he was in his bag. Bet the cat got in the way.”
“Oh, God,” cried Natasha, standing up and returning to their car where she sat inside, holding her head in her hands and crying.
“Shit,” muttered Connie. “Tell her I’m sorry, will you? I thought as a doctor it wouldn’t affect her like this.”
“Melvin was sort of a special patient,” sighed Jack. “You’ll be here for a while. I’m going to take her home. We’ll fill you in on the details later.”
Connie watched as Jack got in the car and spoke with Natasha. Seconds later, he returned.
“Winston is in critical pain,” said Jack. “He needs to be put down. The sooner the better.”
“He howls all the more when I move him,” replied Connie.
“I know. I think you should shoot him now.”
“Me? Forget that! I’m not doing it. Besides, someone will hear the noise and call nine-one-one.”
Jack looked back at Natasha and took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “I’ll do it,” he muttered.
“This is a crime scene! You can’t just go and shoot —”
“Explain that to Natasha. Besides, you’ll want Winston’s body for DNA. Maybe find his fur on the killer. Don’t worry, I won’t screw anything up.”
Connie watched as Jack retrieved a piece of cardboard and an empty plastic litre pop bottle from the dumpster. Moments later he eased Winston out of the sleeping bag and onto the cardboard and carefully dragged him over beside the wooden hydro pole.
He stood silently and looked at Natasha. She stared back for a moment before nodding.
Jack looked down at Winston and said, “I’m sorry, little guy. I really am.” He took out his 9 mm and shoved the barrel into the empty bottle and knelt down, lining up Winston’s head and using the wooden hydro pole as a backdrop.
Winston sniffed the bottom of the plastic bottle and looked at Jack. Oh, don’t do that … It’s as if you trust me, like you think I am going to help you. Goddamn it …
The bottle muffled the sound of the explosion, but it was still loud enough to cause Natasha to jerk and once more cover her face with her hands.
“I’ll take it from here,” said Connie, quietly. Jack didn’t reply and she saw him close his eyes briefly.
“You okay?” she asked.
“No, I’m not okay. I feel sick about what I just did.”
“It was the right thing.”
“What happened to Melvin and what happened to Winston was not the right thing,” replied Jack, before going back to his car.
Neither Jack nor Natasha spoke until they returned to their apartment and parked the car.
“Somebody is going to pay for this,” said Jack. His voice was almost a whisper, but his intention was clear.
***
It was 10:30 when Rose arrived at work. Her jaw was still frozen from an early-morning dental appointment and she was taking off her jacket as Jack entered her office.
“There was a homicide last night. An indigent person by the name of Melvin Montgomery. He was kidnapped from downtown Vancouver, tied in duct tape, and murdered in a park out in Coquitlam. I’d like to poke my nose into it a little bit.”
“Good morning to you, too.”
“Sorry. Good morning. I got your message that you would be late. How’re your teeth?”
“The ache is gone. Turns out I’ll need a root canal. So, you were saying an indigent person was kidnapped and murdered. Odd. What group do you think is behind it and why?”
“Well … to be perfectly honest, I —”
“I suggest you always be perfectly honest with me. Why are you interested in it?”
Jack paused, and said, “The victim was known
