The Blade Man

by Debra Purdy Kong

  Forced to wait for an opening in traffic, Casey bent over and put her hands on her thighs to catch her breath. She looked up. Raindrops spritzed her. The traffic moved on. Casey bolted across the multi-lane street. Drawing closer to the cluster of bystanders, she raised her ID.

  “MPT security. What’s going on?”

  “Someone stabbed the driver and took off,” a woman answered.

  “What?” Casey’s head and ears pounded. “Stabbed? Are you sure?”

  “Afraid so.” The woman shuddered. “It was just awful.”

  Skirting the bystanders, Casey leapt onto the bus via the open back exit. An ambulance and RCMP cruiser arrived. She stampeded down the aisle, toward the firefighters tending to Benny. One of them had his hands on his abdomen.

  “How bad is he?”

  The paramedic looked up. “Who are you?”

  “His coworker.” She flashed her ID.

  “He sustained a single knife wound.”

  Casey stood frozen in place, unable to see much of Benny at all, thanks to firefighters. She waited, desperate for more information, for confirmation that he would be okay.

  “Ma’am, step off the bus, please,” a voice ordered behind her.

  Casey turned around. The large RCMP officer looked like he meant business.

  “He’s a colleague.” Casey’s voice cracked as she again showed her ID.

  “I appreciate that, but we don’t want the crime scene contaminated.”

  Crime scene? Yeah. She supposed it was. Lightheaded and queasy, Casey made her way down the aisle, touching the backs of seats for support against her weakening limbs. She’d seen injuries and violence, even dead bodies, before. But this was Benny. He had to survive. No other option was acceptable. Stepping onto the sidewalk, she stumbled. Lawrence and Del grabbed her before she hit the ground.

  “I’m okay,” she mumbled. “You guys should head home.”

  “We’ll go back with you,” Felicity replied. “Safety in numbers, right?”

  Casey had no idea how to respond to that. She looked around, once more aware of the rain on her face. Where was Stan? He should be here by now. The constable who’d escorted her off the bus stood close by but said nothing. She felt useless just standing here. Surely she could do something.

  “Hey! I’m with MPT security!” she blurted to the spectators, displaying her ID. “Anyone see the attack on our driver?”

  Some people shook their heads. Others just gawked at her.

  “I was sitting near the front when two young men started harassing the driver.” This came from the woman who’d told her about the stabbing. “He stopped the bus and tried to talk to them, but another man jumped onto the platform. I thought he was going to help the driver, but . . . I didn’t even see the knife at first. It all happened so fast.”

  Moving closer, the constable said, “Did you see which way the man went?”

  “I think he crossed the road, toward the aquatic center.”

  Oh hell. Was this the guy who disappeared in the townhouse complex? “Did you see his face?” Casey asked.

  “He wasn’t a kid.” Raindrops made her auburn hair sparkle under the streetlight. “Maybe late thirties or older, and dressed in black, head to toe.”

  Casey turned to the constable. “I saw a man dressed in dark clothes less than ten minutes ago. He was racing into the townhouse complex on the other side of the aquatic center. It felt wrong, so I tried to see where he went, but I lost him.”

  “Any idea of his height and weight?”

  “Not really. Just average, I guess. He wore a ball cap with a hoodie pulled over it.”

  “Yes,” the woman said. “I remember that too.”

  The constable pressed his radio mic button and stepped away from her.

  “Were the guys who were yelling at the driver covering their faces with bandanas, by any chance?” Casey asked the woman.

  “No.”

  “Would you mind if I showed you a couple of photos of people we’ve been looking for? They’ve been harassing drivers.”

  “Sure, go ahead.”

  While the woman removed a pair of glasses from her purse, Casey scrolled through the photos. She was showing headshots of each Bandana Boy when two more RCMP cruisers pulled up. The constable who’d been near her returned.

  “That’s him, with the long black hair and acne,” the woman murmured.

  Casey glanced at the shot of the Bandana Boy with the blue scarf. “Thanks.”

  A young man who’d been standing nearby said, “Can I see the photos?”

  She held the phone in front of him. “She’s right. That’s him.”

  “See if you recognize anyone else.” She scanned through the images until the young man said, “That’s the other one. Skinny dude in the red bandana. Crazy eyes.”

  Damn. He was the punk Wesley had turned upside down and who’d battled with Dimitri.

  “Did either of you see which way they went?” the constable asked.

  “South. When they saw the blood, they ran off,” the woman replied. “I think they were as shocked as I was. My impression was that they didn’t know the third man.”

  A familiar voice yelled, “Would somebody please tell me what is going on!”

  “Stan!” Casey waved her arms. “Over here!”

  As he charged toward her, spectators jumped out of the big guy’s path.

  “Two of the Bandana Boys beat up Benny,” she blurted. “Then a third guy boarded the bus and stabbed him. No connection to the first two suspects, though.”

  “Holy shit. Will he be okay?” Stan looked at the bus.

  “I think so. Firefighters got here first. Looks like paramedics are with him now.”

  “Bandana Boys?” The constable stared at Casey. “You know them?”

  “Another bus driver and I had a run-in with them at the riot. I took photos of all of them that night.” She turned to Stan. “Looks like the Bandana Boys wanted some payback.”

  The constable turned to the witnesses. “What exactly did they do to the driver?”

  “They’d been calling him names, trying to start a fight, I think,” the woman replied. “When the driver answered his cellphone, the acne-faced guy grabbed it from him and smashed it with his foot. He and his buddy then started pummeling the driver until the third guy boarded. The other two jumped back, probably because they saw the blade before anyone else.”

  “Like this lady said, it happened quick,” the young man said.

  Casey hugged herself. The damp night and the horror of what had happened to Benny chilled her bones.

  “Did you see his face?” the constable asked.

  “Not much,” the young man answered. “Just dark stubble, like he hadn’t shaved in three or four days. Hoodie was pulled low over his forehead.”

  “What color was the hoodie?” the cop asked.

  “Black. He was all in black.”

  “Sounds like the guy we saw running,” Del stated from behind Casey.

  Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the worried-looking Friends who were clearly incapable of following instructions. Casey shook her head and sighed.

  While the cop again radioed his colleagues, Casey and Stan exchanged grim stares. The lines on Stan’s face looked deeper, his expression resigned to realities beyond his control. Knowing Stan, he’d feel guilty for not being closer to the M28 in the first place. Lord knows she wished she’d been riding with Benny.

  “This isn’t a designated stop,” Stan said, glancing around. “How did the suspect manage to board here?”

  “Good question.” Casey looked up and down the street.

  “When those two punks started yelling at the driver,” the young man said, “he pulled over right away and opened the door.”

  Did the suspect simply seize an opportunity to hurt someone or had he targeted an MPT driver? Casey was dwelling on this, barely listening to the cop speak with the witnesses, when she realized she was being dismissed.

  “Thanks
for all your help, everyone,” the constable was saying. “There might be more questions, so I’ll need your names and contact information.”

  As witnesses provided the info, Casey scribbled everything down, should she need it for her own report.

  “I’ll drive you to Adrianna,” Stan said to her. “There’s nothing more we can do here.”

  “Thanks, but it’s not necessary. The streets are already filling with cops. Besides, three of our MPT Friends followed me off the M30.” She nodded toward the trio. “I’ll escort them back.”

  “Benny wasn’t alone,” he replied. “I’ll take them too.”

  The paramedics were carrying Benny off the bus and onto a gurney. Stan charged toward them. Casey hurried to keep up.

  “I’m in charge of Mainland Public Transport security,” Stan said to them. “What’s the driver’s condition?”

  “There’s one stab wound but it could be deep,” a paramedic answered. “He might need surgery.”

  “Oh god,” she murmured.

  Stan looked over his shoulder. “Take the kids to the car and wait there.”

  Casey nodded, afraid that if she spoke she’d burst into tears. Her head spun. She pressed her hand against her stomach to try and control the nausea that made her insides frothy. She turned to the Friends. Lawrence was snapping photos of the bus while Del and Felicity texted.

  “You three,” she ordered. “Come with me.”

  Leading the way, she marched toward the security vehicle, determined to maintain a steady pace despite her weakening legs. Above Casey an incoming SkyTrain broke the silence. She looked up. Its two cars were illuminated inside, but she saw no passengers, just emptiness. Of course there was nothing to see up there. The drama was all here on the street. God, who would tell Benny’s family what had happened? And what about coworkers? Benny was a popular employee. A lot of them would be devastated.

  “Will Mr. Lee be okay?” Lawrence asked.

  “Absolutely.” She stared straight ahead. “He’s one of the strongest people I know.”

  A raindrop splashed directly into her eye, merging with the pooling tears. She wiped her eyes as the ambulance took off, lights and siren sabotaging her hope that Benny would be fine and back at work soon. She glanced over her shoulder to see Del and Felicity still texting.

  “Who are you texting?”

  “Travis,” Del answered.

  “Hedley,” Felicity added.

  Casey didn’t know how to interpret the strange glance Del gave Felicity. It was almost as if her answer annoyed him. She opened the back door and waited as the trio climbed into the vehicle.

  “Let me be clear,” Casey said, sliding onto the front seat. “I don’t want you posting details about tonight on social media. Keep what you saw and heard to yourselves, and that applies to the two you’re texting, understand? We can’t risk compromising the police investigation.”

  “No problem,” Del said, while the other two nodded.

  Stan slid behind the wheel. Without saying a word, he started the engine and pulled away. Casey studied the small forested area in front of the aquatic center on the north side of Town Center Boulevard. Her gaze swept from tree to tree. No sign of movement. Just shadows and far too many hiding places. A breeze swooshed through the lighter branches. Leaves fluttered.

  Casey thought she saw something, or someone, move behind the trees. Peering into the darkness, she held her breath as Stan cruised past the trees. Nothing. Maybe she was being paranoid.

  “It’s weird that two guys were stabbed just a few days apart in the same area,” Felicity said.

  “Could be a coincidence,” Del replied.

  “Or not,” Lawrence said. “Lots of people carry knives, but not many go around stabbing people in the same area of a city.”

  Stan and Casey exchanged glances. Two police cruisers were parked at the entrance to the townhouse complex. Beneath the streetlights, Casey spotted officers walking through the complex, flashing bright lights on gardens, hedges, and driveways.

  “Is there a full moon tonight?” Felicity asked.

  “No,” Casey answered. “Why?”

  “Things always go crazy on full moons. That’s why there’s more security people on duty, right?”

  Casey glanced over her shoulder. “And how do you know that, Miss Felicity?”

  “Um.” She tossed a furtive glance at Del. “A driver probably told us.”

  “Uh-huh.” Casey looked at Stan. “Should we call Benny’s family?”

  “I’ll do it when we get back,” he mumbled. “Word’s out among the drivers. Call Adrianna and find out where she is.”

  Casey did so, not surprised that Adrianna answered on the second ring.

  “Please tell me it’s not true about Benny,” she pleaded.

  “He’ll be okay. I’ll fill you in shortly.” She then arranged to meet Adrianna at the Guildford and Johnson bus stop.

  As tempted as Casey was to call Lou, it’d be better to tell him in person. Lou wasn’t working tonight and probably hadn’t heard the news. Benny was his good friend and mentor. He’d take it hard.

  “Look at that guy hurrying down the sidewalk,” Felicity said. “I think he’s in black clothes! Is that the man with the knife? The blade man?”

  Casey’s breath caught in her throat. She noted that his hands were in his pockets and the hoodie pulled low over his forehead. Stan slowed the vehicle. As they drew nearer, she saw enough of the man’s full beard to know he wasn’t one of the Bandana Boys or the assailant. Aside from all the facial hair, this guy wore dark brown pants rather than black jeans.

  “Not the suspect,” she said.

  The man stared at them as they drove past. At that moment, Casey was glad they weren’t walking. Given all the hostility drivers had experienced lately, maybe there was no such thing as overly cautious.

  “We should plan our next rides,” Felicity said to Del.

  “Stay away from Coquitlam,” Casey said. “You’ll be busy with grad celebrations next weekend anyway, right?” Their silence didn’t surprise her. “You should go. The dinner-dance might not be your thing, but After Grad parties are fun.”

  “Did you go to yours?” Felicity asked.

  “Sure.” More than fifteen years had flown by, but memories of dancing, karaoke, games, and making out were still clear. “It’s one of my best memories of grad year.”

  “It’d be fun to ride the buses after midnight on grad weekend,” Lawrence said.

  “Totally,” Felicity replied.

  Casey stifled a groan. Their single-minded focus was kind of depressing. “Not really, guys. Things can get rowdy.”

  Past experience had proven that there were always a few graduating morons who decided to become bad-ass wannabes on grad night. Drinking, fighting, and dumb acts of vandalism on buses weren’t unusual.

  “There’s tons of photo ops at grad parties, Lawrence,” Casey remarked. “Take advantage of them.”

  As Stan reached Johnson Street, Adrianna’s bus approached.

  “Can we have your business card?” Felicity asked. “In case we see someone suspicious?”

  “Since you won’t be coming out here for a while, I don’t think it’s necessary.”

  Felicity hesitated. “Travis might see something. It’d help if we all had a way to contact you.”

  “And we might need to come out this way for Travis,” Del added. “He doesn’t like being alone much.”

  Casey had a feeling she wouldn’t be able to deter them. Admittedly, this bunch was more observant than most riders. If one of them spotted someone suspicious, a phone call might help.

  Casey handed her card to Del. “Since I don’t have many, share this between you.”

  “Awesome!” Felicity said.

  As the trio examined the card, Casey wondered if she’d just made a big mistake. “Only call if there’s real trouble, is that clear? Even then, you should call 9-1-1 first.”

  “Your cell number’s not on here?” Del
asked.

  A smile brightened Stan’s face as he pulled up behind Adrianna’s bus.

  “No, and don’t make me regret this.”

  “We’ll guard it with our lives,” Felicity said.

  Casey didn’t find this especially reassuring.

  SIX

  Three days had passed since Benny’s surgery and Casey was worried. She’d spoken with his daughter Yvette, who said that although Benny’s condition was stable, he needed to remain in the hospital.

  Lou hardly spoke all weekend, preferring to keep busy by washing his truck and doing yardwork. Physical labor was how he coped with anguish and fear. Pounding and pulling his way through emotions was much more comfortable than conversation.

  It didn’t help that she’d confronted him about his injuries. Lou was annoyed that she’d found out about the extent of the beating. Worse, he still refused to see a doctor. They’d argued about it but he wouldn’t back down. The riot happened just over a week ago. Lou moved more easily now and didn’t groan as much. Yet anger had settled in his eyes. He wore tension like a badly fitted suit, as if afraid his thoughts would burst through in a tirade.

  After the intense discussion about his injuries, Casey hadn’t brought up the rumor about Lou quitting his job. The last time he wanted to quit, Benny was the one who’d persuaded him to stay.

  As they drove to the mandatory staff meeting, Casey could almost feel resentment oozing from his pores. Lou kept the volume up on the radio, switching from a rock ’n’ roll station to the news. Staring at the heavy eastbound traffic, he sighed.

  “Leave it to bloody Gwyn to demand that everyone show up first thing in the morning. What about the guys who didn’t finish work until after midnight? He’s such an ass.”

  Gwyn Maddox rarely gathered all personnel together. He hadn’t done so after the riot debacle or the attack on Benny. But when Gwyn heard that someone had spray-painted MPT SUCKS all over the admin building last night, he demanded a meeting.

  Lou turned into Mainland’s parking lot, where the repeated phrase was sprawled across the first-floor windows and glass door.

  “Stan says no one saw anything,” Casey remarked. “The vandal must have struck between 2:00 and 5:00 AM. It’s the only time when no one’s here.”