The Homeless Killer

by Claude Bouchard

  As they approached, they could see Enright in discussion with another man who was wiping down the newly installed stainless steel counters and tray slides of the cafeteria style kitchen and serving area. Enright noticed them, smiled and raised a forefinger, indicating he would be with them momentarily. He finished his conversation, slapped the other man on the shoulder and made his way through the tables and chairs being unpacked, assembled and placed by yet another team of workers.

  “Captain, Detective, so good of you to come,” he greeted them with a broad smile. “There is still some work to be done but all will be ready in time.”

  “We haven’t seen much so far,” said Dave, “But what we have seen is looking great.”

  “Yes it is,” Enright beamed proudly. “Much of that is due to the wonderful team who helped put it all together, from the architects and designers to the contractors and their workers. They have really done an incredible job in terms of quality workmanship and respecting plans, specs and schedules. Come, let’s have a look around.”

  They started with the area which would be the school, directly opposite from the dining hall. Workers there were busy as well with last minute painting jobs and lighting fixture installations. William led them around to the school’s administrative suite which included an open reception area, a couple of closed offices, a small conference room and a staff lounge complete with refrigerator, mini-range, microwave and coffee maker. A few tables and chairs were placed here and there, providing staff with a place to sit and eat or do paperwork. Two compact but efficiently designed and equipped computer stations were set along a far wall near a cosier corner furnished with a couch and a couple of armchairs.

  “Very nice,” said Frank approvingly. “I’m sure your teaching staff will be very happy.”

  “If you want productive staff, you must treat them well and provide the required working tools,” William replied. “Besides,” he added with a wink, “We can’t have the shelter residents being more comfortable than the working staff, can we?”

  They completed the tour of the school with a visit of the six compact but well appointed classrooms then moved on further into the building where Enright showed them the counsellors’ quarters. These included offices and other work areas, another lounge and four small rooms, each equipped with a bed, locker, easy-chair and television.

  “Depending on work schedules and so on,” Enright explained, “Some counsellors sometimes need a place to call home for a night or even just to take a half hour nap. There are bathrooms complete with showers just down the hall for their convenience as well.”

  They next headed to the living quarters destined to home the homeless themselves. Rather than the usual dormitory style sleeping quarters Dave and Frank were expecting, they were surprised to find comfortably lit hallways lined with individual rooms. The shelter was closed in by buildings on either side so there were no exterior windows but each room had an interior one giving on the hallway, decorated with mini-blinds for privacy. The rooms were small but comfortable, equipped similarly to those foreseen for the counsellors minus the television set.

  “I’m very impressed, William,” said McCall. “This is a far cry from the shelters I’ve seen in the past.”

  “We think that one of the first things many of the homeless need is a sense of dignity,” Enright replied. “Those who will stay here will be required to assist in some chores, be it cleaning, laundry, kitchen help, that kind of thing and in return they will be treated with respect, offered a certain level of comfort but, most important of all, they will have their own space. They will have something that they can call their own, their room and their privacy.”

  “Are you thinking in terms of long term tenants?” asked Bakes, intrigued.

  “Not specifically,” said Enright, “But anyone can stay as long as they need to start setting themselves right. Tenants, as you referred to them, will be expected to make efforts, get counselling, improve themselves. Our goal is to be a stepping stone so that they can move on to better things after their stay here.”

  They pursued their tour, seeing other blocks of living quarters, each with spotless communal bathrooms complete with multiple showers and large community areas with televisions, sitting areas, board games, puzzles and a variety of books.

  Further on, Enright showed them a compact but efficiently laid-out clinic, complete with examination table and an office to be used by volunteer physicians who would ensure medical services during regular hours on weekdays.

  “I am totally amazed by this place,” Dave admitted as they reached the back of the building and the end of the tour. “You must be very proud.”

  “My father’s wish was that I create and manage the Foundation after his death,” Enright humbly replied. “I am only doing the work that he willed upon me to the best of my abilities.”

  “Well, congratulations, William,” said McCall with sincerity. “He must be very proud.”

  “Bah, I do this or something else,” scoffed Enright, brushing off the praise. “So, Captain, satisfied with the tour? Any areas of danger?”

  “Nothing specific as such,” Dave answered then pointed to a walled off block back in the corner. “What’s back there?”

  “A storage room for supplies. There’s a door which opens up on Argyle Avenue out back.”

  “And you have another door in that corner as well,” Frank noted.

  “I can probably manage to swing a couple of uniforms to cover back there for the peak period of the opening,” McCall thought aloud.

  “That would be appreciated,” said Enright as he gestured towards the front of the building. “Come. Let’s go back to the dining hall while we finish up. I know they’ve had the coffee makers going non-stop since they’ve been installed so I can at least offer you a cup of coffee.”

  They returned to the front and, sure enough, a fresh pot sat on the warmer. They filled disposable cups and sat at one of the newly assembled tables as workers continued setting up around them, the floor supervisor helping as he urged them on.

  “So, David, what’s the plan for tomorrow?” asked William.

  “To start, I’d like someone from our explosives group to come by with a dog tomorrow morning,” said the captain. “Give the place a decent once over to make sure nobody’s planted a bomb somewhere.”

  “Excellent,” Enright agreed. “I’ll be here early, probably by seven so I can serve as guide.”

  “Good,” Dave nodded. “I’ll set it up and let you know who’ll be here and at what time.”

  “I’m happy that you’re on board, Captain,” William admitted. “I certainly wasn’t thinking of bombs. What else are you planning?”

  “Frank and I will be keeping an eye on things as best we can,” McCall replied. “Also, I’ll get a couple of cops to watch the rear entrances, as I mentioned. What time is this all starting?”

  “The doors will be opening at ten. We have a number of paid staff and volunteers who will be taking small groups on quick tours ending up here in the dining room where there will be food and refreshments as of noon. I may say a few words or maybe not, it will be an ad hoc kind of thing. As of one o’clock, those wishing to register to stay will be able to do so in the main lobby and the shelter will be operational.”

  “How long will the tours be going on?” Dave asked. “I’m hoping to avoid having different groups spread out in the building for too long. They make multiple targets. It will be easier to manage once most people are isolated in one main area.”

  “As I mentioned, all tours will end up here,” William answered. “I believe that the tours are ending around half past eleven then the bulk of the visitors will be in this room.”

  “Sounds good. Frank and I can roam around while the tours are going on,” said McCall.

  “What’s up there?” Bakes asked, suddenly noticing the second storey windows overlooking the dining hall.

  “This used to be a manufacturing plant and some managers or supervisors had their
offices up there so they could monitor production activity,” Enright explained. “They’ll be used by my management staff.”

  “How do you get up there?” asked the captain.

  “A door in the main hallway opens up to a stairway,” William replied.

  “Does it have a lock on it?” Frank enquired.

  “Yes it does,” confirmed Enright. “For the most part, it will be treated as an off-limits area to the general population.”

  “Make sure it’s locked tomorrow,” Dave recommended.

  “I’ll do so,” agreed William, “Though it should be locked already. The offices have been finished for over a week so nobody’s actually had to go up there.”

  He took a sip of coffee and then looked at the two cops. “Gentlemen, I just want to tell you how much I appreciate your offer of assistance for tomorrow. It would be disastrous if anything happened at the opening and I’m certain that your presence here will serve as a deterrent to this maniac.”

  “I hope you’re right, William,” said McCall as he rose to shake Enright’s hand. “I really do.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Allan sat in the kitchen, nursing a nightcap of scotch as he mused about the following day’s events.

  ‘So, McCall and his detective are going to be there tomorrow to keep an eye on things,’ he thought. ‘What the hell. The captain is an insulting bastard and a pain in the ass. I just might make an exception and take him down as well.’

  He looked at the time, tossed back the remainder of his drink and headed off to bed. After all, tomorrow would be a busy day.

  Chapter 28 – Tuesday, August 1, 2006

  The press announcements, flyers and posters regarding the Overdale shelter’s opening had not gone unnoticed. When Dave and Frank drove up shortly before ten o’clock, they were met by a nearly circus-like scene with already hundreds of people milling about.

  Vans and automobiles sporting media logos had taken over Overdale Avenue and dozens of cables snaked across the pavement. The building had been decorated with hundreds of brightly coloured balloons and countless yards of crepe paper streamers. Affixed across the front of the building was a gigantic poster which read:

  THE P.W. ENRIGHT FOUNDATION

  PROUDLY PRESENTS THE

  ENRIGHT OVERDALE SHELTER

  “This definitely has the potential to be the killer’s target,” Frank commented as Dave squeezed his SUV in between a CBC van and a Gazette station wagon.

  “Tell me about it,” McCall muttered as he scanned the scene. “Son of a bitch could just pop out somewhere and shower that crowd with a machine gun.”

  “Machine guns are illegal, Dave,” Bakes kidded as they climbed out of the truck.

  “Let’s go check this place out,” McCall said with a grin as he shook his head. “At least Elliott from explosives confirmed that all was fine.”

  As they crossed the street, they spotted Enright off to one side, bathed in bright, white light, in the midst of a television interview. Several reporters stood close by, waiting for their turn to chat with the philanthropist.

  They entered the main lobby where counsellors and volunteers, easily recognizable in their shocking yellow “OVERDALE STAFF” t-shirts, were organizing civilians, vagrants and reporters alike into manageable tour groups. They worked smoothly and efficiently, quickly gathering a dozen or so people at a time then whisking them off to visit the building.

  “Follow with the next group that goes,” said Dave. “I’ll have a quick look around the dining hall and the school and go with another group afterwards.”

  Frank nodded and headed down the central hallway trailing after the group which had just left. Dave entered the dining hall, currently deserted except for the kitchen staff hard at work behind the stainless steel counters. Satisfied, he left the room and crossed the lobby to the school entrance. He tried the door but found it locked and realized that the tour groups weren’t being shown this area.

  Spotting a yellow t-shirt, he approached the young woman and identified himself.

  “Oh yes, Captain. Mr. Enright told us that you’d be here,” she replied cheerfully. “How can I help you?”

  “The school doors are locked,” he said. “Isn’t it part of the tour?”

  “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “Mr. Enright informed us this morning that we would be excluding it from the tour. For security reasons, he wanted to limit access to just the main areas of the shelter. He’s concerned about that killer and thought that less access was better.”

  “Attaboy, William,” McCall grinned. “I approve of Mr. Enright’s initiative.”

  “So do I,” the woman nodded emphatically. “He told us to get the tours done quickly, to make sure our groups stayed together and to immediately report anything or anyone strange or out of place.”

  She tugged on a wireless handset clipped to her belt to indicate their reporting capabilities.

  “Thanks for the information,” Dave smiled. “I’ll have to congratulate Mr. Enright.”

  “You’re welcome, Captain. If you’ll excuse me, I have to get a group going.”

  “Go right ahead,” McCall urged. “Actually, I’ll tag along behind your group if you don’t mind.”

  “Sure thing,” she smiled enthusiastically and went off to count her next dozen.

  The group soon departed down the central hallway with Dave sauntering slightly behind. As he went, he scanned around, looking for nooks and crannies where someone might hide themselves or possibly a weapon. He noticed a door in a small recess along the main hallway and realized it must lead to the second storey offices. Stepping into the recess, he tried the knob and confirmed it was locked.

  The tour group continued with no time wasted. Enright had coached his staff well and all was moving smoothly, like clockwork. Soon they were returning into the main lobby and entering the dining hall. No longer deserted, the hall now had close to a hundred people either seated at its tables or standing around in small groups chatting.

  Frank walked up from through the crowd and addressed the captain.

  “I’ll go through with another group. I also got confirmation that the patrol car is out back.”

  “Excellent,” McCall replied. “If this keeps up, we’ll get through this thing without a hitch.”

  “So far, so good,” said Bakes, crossing his fingers before lowering his voice. “By the way, Dougie and Bob are here, second table towards the front.”

  “Things just keep getting better and better,” Dave grinned. “See you later, Frankie.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Allan came in through the front door and walked across the lobby, stopping in the doorway of the dining hall. He casually scanned the inside of the room, stepping aside to allow another tour group to enter. He estimated the crowd to be at least a couple of hundred strong by now with more coming. Looking towards the front at the kitchen area, he could see the cooking staff pulling hot trays out of ovens and various platters out of the refrigerators. Food would be served soon and people were already starting to assemble in a line to get first dibs.

  ‘Wonderful,’ he thought as he surveyed the scene. ‘This is going to be absolutely fucking marvellous.’

  He scanned the room once more and someone suddenly caught his attention. Could it be true? He peered more intently, trying not to look to obvious. Yes, at the second table towards the front, it was him.

  ‘Dougie,’ he rolled the name over in his mind with pleasure.

  He couldn’t see the other one, Bob, but maybe he was around as well. No matter, Dougie had been the one with the stupid mouth and now, if all went well, the lousy drunk would pay for his words.

  Feeling energized, Allan turned on his heel and headed down the central hallway.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Bob had left the table and gotten in the food line moments earlier, not so much for the food itself or first servings but rather to view the dining hall and all within it from a different vantage point.

  Dougie remained seated at th
e table, casually eyeing the activity around him for anything unusual. He was accompanied by Bert and Sonny, two homeless people he and Bob had met several times in the previous weeks in Phillips Square. He and Bob had made it a point to get better acquainted with the two as they had turned out to be close friends with the grey-bearded bum who had had their photo. Both men, they had learned, had been present when the killer had initially shown, then given the photo to the now deceased vagrant. They could possibly identify him.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Allan reached the door leading to the staircase. Glancing around, he noted that the central hallway was empty. He could see a few people up front in the main lobby but none were looking his way. He quickly inserted a key into the lock, opened the door and quietly closed it behind him. He took a deep breath, relocked the door and climbed the stairs leading to the offices above.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  “Cigrette man,” mumbled Sonny, the nervous one, excitedly before breaking into his annoying little bout of giggles and withdrawing once again.

  “Whadcha say?” asked Dougie, feeling a volt of adrenaline pump through his body.

  Bert, the grey skinned vagrant looked around and shrugged. “He said cig’rette man, but I doan see nuthin.”

  Dougie leaned close to Sonny and spoke in a low, clear tone. “Did you see the cigarette man, Sonny?”

  “Uh, huh,” the mentally challenged Sonny nodded emphatically as he stared at the table. “Cigrette man.”

  “Where, Sonny?” asked Chris, looking around, forcing himself to look casual. “Where did you see the cigarette man? It’s important.”

  Sonny looked up at Chris and lucidity flickered in his usually dull eyes for a moment.

  “O’er there,” he pointed to the dining hall entrance.

  “Are you sure?” Chris whispered intensely. “Where did he go?”