Lou had been with her when she opened Benny’s locker and found a pair of shoes, two science fiction paperbacks, and an umbrella. The absence of a uniform was disheartening. She shared her suspicions about Reese and Max with Lou, but to her surprise he didn’t dismiss the theory. In fact, he told her that Max occasionally came by after Benny’s shift to have a few beer with the guys.
“The last time Max joined us was two months ago. Max and Benny argued about MPT’s lousy salaries. Benny told him that good friends were worth more than good money. Max didn’t like that and left. Maybe the anger’s grown into something more.”
Without real proof, neither she nor Lou wanted to talk to the police yet. If cops started questioning the family, what would it do to Benny? He was so vulnerable right now. On the other hand, if Max was behind the arsons, he needed to be caught. If she found Benny’s uniform in his house and that uniform smelled of gasoline or smoke, she’d let the cops know.
Casey brooded over this until they reached the hot zone and two guys in their late teens boarded the bus. Both glared at Lou and Casey. It took her only a few seconds to figure out why. One of them was Junior, the light blond Bandana Boy who’d cut his hand trying to climb through the bus window the night of the riot.
The boys took a seat at the back. Given the number of times she and MPT drivers had crossed paths with the Bandana Boys since the riot, they probably lived in the area. Judging from the hostile expressions, they weren’t done sparring with MPT personnel either.
Casey scrolled through her phone until she found the photo she was looking for and showed it to Lou. “I don’t know the dark-haired guy, but the blond kid tangled with us at the riot.”
“The cops are probably still looking for vandals and looters,” Lou said. “Call them.”
As Casey did so, she turned to Junior, who was still glaring at her and saying something to his buddy. Junior stood and pulled a shiny blade from his pocket, then sat down again.
“Crap,” she muttered. “He’s got a knife.”
Lou pressed the alarm and updated dispatch, who would notify the police. He pulled up to the next stop. Casey knew he wouldn’t be moving until Junior was off the bus. Junior wasn’t making any move either, which suited her just fine. But would he stay put until the cops arrived?
Casey sat in a seat reserved for seniors and the physically challenged, observing the boys until Del, Felicity, and Lawrence climbed on board. Damn it, their timing couldn’t be worse.
“Thanks for waiting,” Del said, turning to Casey. “Travis says hi.”
Casey nodded. “Actually, we’ll be stopped for a few minutes, so you might want to pick up a TransLink bus.”
Del looked from him to Casey, then turned his attention to the passengers. “Problem?”
Her stomach knotted. Why couldn’t they mind their own business for once? “If you three want to stay, don’t sit near the back.”
Junior and his buddy remained seated, while Junior yelled out “Security bitch!” The buddy, about the same age as Junior, appeared to have no weapon, but his sneer and swagger suggested that he was all in with whatever Junior had in mind.
As if sensing trouble, a passenger left through the back exit. Another couple exited through the front. The Friends took seats near the middle, their attention swiveling from Casey to the boys and back again. Felicity raised her phone and began recording the boys. Casey wanted her to stop, but was reluctant to draw attention to the girl.
Lou stood. “Sorry, folks,” he called out. “I’ve been asked to stay here a few minutes.”
The remaining passengers barely looked up from their phones. Apparently, none of them were in a great hurry to reach their destination.
“Why?” Junior started down the aisle, followed by his buddy. “There’s no good reason to keep us here.” He scowled at Lou. “Get this bus moving.”
He paused near the Friends, apparently unaware that he was being recorded. Felicity was sitting next to the window. Del was beside her and Lawrence in front of them.
Casey stood, her heartrate accelerating. “I’ve got this,” she said to Lou.
“Careful,” he murmured.
The passengers, most in their twenties or thirties, now watched the scene with cautious expressions. Displaying her badge, Casey reminded Junior that they’d met before. The kid’s response was to show her his knife.
“Drop the knife on the floor right now,” she said, stepping back. “Carrying a weapon on this bus is illegal. Do you understand?”
“Ya think I give a shit?” Junior shot back.
“I can take the driver,” the buddy remarked. “He ain’t nothin’ to worry about.”
Casey glanced over her shoulder at Lou, who was now standing right behind her, trying not to smile. The kid had no idea how well Lou could handle himself in one-on-one encounters. Although his injuries from the riot had healed, she preferred that he didn’t acquire new ones. Lou crossed his arms. Casey put the badge in her pocket. She’d had defensive training, but that was some time ago. Even then, they’d been instructed to avoid confrontations where weapons were involved. Not always possible in real-life situations.
“Come on!” his buddy yelled. “Take her down, Liam! She’s fat and old.”
Liam. Okay then. Casey gritted her teeth. Thirty-three was not old and an extra twenty pounds was not fat. Liam adjusted his grip on the knife, then adjusted it again. Doubt flickered across his face.
“The cops are on their way, and you’re being recorded on camera.” Casey pointed at the camera in the ceiling. “Our dispatch office can also hear every word.” Liam didn’t need to know that their lousy sound system had probably already cut out.
“Cops won’t touch minors,” Liam said, sneering at her.
“Thanks to your part in the riot, they will,” Casey replied. “You guys were all recorded.”
“Bullshit. If they had anything, they would have arrested me that night.”
“They didn’t have the recordings then.” She paused. “They do now.”
Liam’s cheeks flushed pink as his gaze darted among the passengers. He spotted Felicity with her phone raised.
“Hey!” He pointed the knife at her. “Shut that off!”
Liam reached past Del and tried to grab the phone. Del pushed Liam so hard that he lost his balance and fell, knocking the knife from his hand. Casey kicked the knife under a seat. As Liam got to his feet, Del tackled him to the floor. The buddy leapt on top of Del.
“Stop it!” Casey yelled. She and Lou hauled the buddy up. “Del, get up!”
As Del struggled to his feet, Liam swept the floor with his hands, apparently in search of the knife.
“Don’t bother,” Casey answered. “It’s unreachable.”
Lawrence pulled Del further back from an infuriated Liam.
“I’m gonna kill you, bitch!” Liam screamed at Casey.
“A death threat and assault with a weapon have serious consequences, regardless of age,” Casey said, forcing herself to stay calm. “Think about what you’re saying.”
“You’re being recorded everywhere, dude,” Lou remarked, pinning the buddy’s arms behind his back.
A quick survey of all those phones pointed at him transformed Liam’s anger into twitchy agitation. Out the corner of her eye, Casey noticed two police cruisers pulling up. Seconds later, RCMP constables boarded the front and back exits. Liam jumped onto an empty seat and tried to squiggle his way through an open window.
“Seriously?” Casey remarked. “What is it with you and windows?”
After describing the kid’s behavior at the riot and this latest incident, the cops shook their heads. One of them retrieved the knife while a second cop relieved Lou of Liam’s buddy.
The third officer addressed the handful of people who remained on the bus. “We’d appreciate it if you could wait and talk to us about what happened here. I’ll be with each of you shortly.” He took hold of Liam’s ankles. “Should I push you through?” the constable asked. �
��Landing on your head might knock some sense into you.”
“That’s police brutality!” Liam shouted.
“We could just drive the bus to the Coquitlam detachment,” Casey remarked. “Let him hang out the window like a dog.”
The officer smiled. “Wouldn’t want you to go out of your way.” He now gripped Liam’s belt. “Back inside, young man.” The cop didn’t have to pull hard before Liam was safely in his grasp.
“Ow! I’m gonna charge you with assault, asshole!”
“Really? You brought a knife on board and threatened to kill someone, and you’re yelling about brutality?”
The constable’s scrutiny had the kid squirming so badly that Casey couldn’t help grinning.
“We’ve seen CCTV footage of your activities at the riot on May 17th,” the constable added. “I’ll have to arrest you and contact your parents.”
“You can’t do that! I’ve got rights!”
“As does everyone here,” the constable replied. “Let’s go.”
His colleague was already escorting the buddy off the bus.
Liam’s defiance withered. “You can’t call my parents!”
“You’re a minor,” Casey remarked.
“Look, I know something about that guy who got stabbed at the riot,” he blurted.
The constable and Casey exchanged wary looks. Was the kid bluffing or telling the truth? Casey had to know.
“Prove it,” she said.
The kid glanced at her, then turned back to the constable. “Only if you promise not to call my parents.”
“Can’t do that, son. The crimes you’re being charged with are serious.”
Liam lowered his head, his facial muscles tightening.
“What’s your name?” the constable asked.
“Liam.”
“We need to know what you saw that night, Liam.”
As Liam shook his head, Casey heard Lou’s heavy sigh.
“Should I call your folks right now?” the constable asked. “Won’t be hard to track them down.”
“You can’t,” Liam said, his expression worried.
“I can, and if you won’t cooperate, then you should know that juvenile remand isn’t a fun place.”
Liam’s face paled. “Listen, I saw the victim fall, all right?”
The constable peered at him. “What else?”
“The guy right behind him suddenly turned around and tried to move against the crowd that was swarming a jewelry store. It was weird. The guy wasn’t interested in the store, but he sure reacted fast to the guy’s fall. I, uh . . .” Liam’s gaze darted around the bus. “I got the feeling that he had something to do with it, so I followed him.”
Casey glanced at Lou, who frowned at Liam.
“Why follow him because of a feeling?” Casey waited for an answer, but the kid avoided her gaze. “You saw the man stab the victim, didn’t you?”
“No. I . . . ” Liam’s Adam’s apple moved up and down.
“Liam,” the constable said, “did you see where he went?”
The kid hesitated before nodding. “Back down Glen Drive. Stayed there until he got to High Street, then cut through Westwood Village.”
Casey was aware of the complex. There were commercial stores below several floors of condos.
“He dropped something in a garbage can,” Liam added.
“Did you see what it was, by any chance?” the cop asked.
Liam cleared his throat. He appeared to deflate as his shoulders rounded. “A paper towel with blood on it.”
And he hadn’t shared this until now? Casey rolled her eyes.
“The riot was three weeks ago,” Lou said. “Garbage would have been picked up.”
“You should have let us know right away.” The constable’s stare made the kid squirm again.
Liam kept his eyes downcast as the constable ushered him off the bus. Casey noticed the Friends relaxing back in their seats, their faces animated as they whispered to one another. They’d gotten the excitement they’d been hoping for, more fodder for the chat group. Casey prepared herself for another talk with the trio about the importance of discretion.
TWENTY-THREE
Charlie Applebee wasn’t a morning person, or so Casey had concluded. Each of his attacks had occurred in the early evening or after dark, so she saw no reason to attend the high school track meet until mid-afternoon. If the urge to kill someone wearing green overwhelmed Charlie, he could show up today. Given that two constables were patrolling the area, the RCMP thought so too. Many people were here on this warm, sunny Saturday. Unfortunately, one of the competing teams was wearing green, as were their supporters. Charlie would have his pick in this crowd.
Going after adults at night was one thing, but would he be crazy enough to attack kids in daylight? As it was, the whole green-hating angle made little sense. Grass was green. Trees were green. As far as Casey knew, the nut didn’t go around stabbing bushes and leaves. On the other hand, maybe he did. Who knew how deep the crazy went?
Scanning the stadium, she observed the partially covered bleachers opposite her. To the left of the bleachers, people were lining up to buy food. Even from here, she detected the smell of frying onions. She strolled past the high jump area and started around the south end of the track, paying close attention to the athletes in green. Another constable strolled past the concession stand, his head swiveling back and forth as he surveyed the crowd.
Using her small, lightweight binoculars, Casey zeroed in on the javelin area by the stadium’s east perimeter. So far, there was no sign of any man dressed in black. A teen cleared the high jump bar and the crowd cheered. Casey turned her attention to the hurdlers preparing to race until her ringing phone distracted her.
Rhonda. Casey’s body went still. A second call in two days couldn’t be good.
“Rhonda?” She moved away from the noise. “Are you okay?”
“You tell me.”
Casey flinched. “What do you mean?”
“I called Summer a few minutes ago to say hi and she didn’t sound happy to hear from me.” Rhonda paused. “What’s up with my daughter and what have you learned about the boyfriend?”
Crap. Not a good time to get into it. “I learned that he’s not a boyfriend, but just a kid she hangs with. There’s no romantic involvement.”
“Are you sure? Have you met him? What’s his name? What grade is he in?”
Casey sighed. “I’ve met Tyler and he’s not horrible. He’s a year or two older than Summer.”
A starting pistol went off and the race was underway.
“Where are you?” Rhonda asked.
“Doing surveillance at a track-and-field event.” The crowd grew louder. Casey raised her voice. “Have you found out when your surgery will be?”
“This week, I think.”
“No exact date?”
“Not yet.”
Was this true? Not that Casey wanted to confront her right now. “You’ll survive this, Rhonda.”
“If you say so.”
Not the most optimistic of attitudes. “Have you reconsidered keeping this from Summer?”
“No.”
How could she convince Rhonda to confide in her daughter? After surgery, there could be months of radiation or chemo treatments. More pain and anguish. She shouldn’t have to endure that alone.
“Casey, I have to go. I’m sorry.”
“No, Rhonda. Wait. We love you. You know that, right?” Casey heard the desperation in her own voice, but didn’t know how to stop. “Summer’s attitude is a defense mechanism. She misses you so much that she can’t express it without falling apart.”
Rhonda didn’t answer right away. “Thank you for taking good care of my daughter.” Her voice cracked. “I’ll never be able to repay you.”
“I’m not running a tab, Rhonda. Never will.”
Rhonda hung up, leaving Casey with the phone pressed to her ear, her hand shaking. While she fretted about Rhonda, it took several seconds to rea
lize that a man in black was rummaging through a garbage can just a few yards away.
Casey’s mouth grew dry and her heartbeat accelerated. Giving the man a wide berth, she circled the area until she saw his heavily lined face and long gray-and-white beard. Not Charlie. She shoved the phone in her pocket. His stained and torn clothes branded him as homeless. He picked up a half-eaten hot dog, studied it a moment, then crammed the food into his mouth. She’d seen this type of activity so often in Vancouver that it hardly fazed her anymore. Casey removed a nearly full water bottle from her backpack.
“Excuse me.” She said strolling up to the guy. The man chew faster, as if afraid she’d demand the hot dog back. “Would you like this?”
The man swallowed his food. Swollen, gnarled fingers wrapped around the bottle. “Thanks.”
She tried not to stare at the splotch of mustard in his mustache. “How’s it going?”
His tentative smile exposed three gaps where the upper teeth should be. “Just waking up means it’s a good day, mostly.”
A sense of humor. Good. He might be open to talking. She glanced around. No sign of anyone else dressed in black. “Were you at the union rally three weeks ago? Bet there were plenty of cans and bottles to collect that night.”
“Bottles were all broke.”
Casey nodded. “I guess they would be. Did you hear about the stabbing on Glen Drive?”
He squinted at her. “You a cop?”
“No, I work for Mainland Public Transport. Two of our employees were stabbed near here.”
“Don’t know nothin’ about that.” He went back to rummaging.
“Their attacker wore black clothing.” Casey raised her voice over the cheering crowd. “Word is that he’s a man named Charlie Applebee.”
The old man’s eyebrows rose. “Charlie Apple did that?” He rubbed the bristles on his cheek.
“You know him?”
Wariness flooded the man’s face, as if he’d just realized his mistake.
“It’s okay,” Casey said. “The police already know who he is. They’re the ones who told us. What we don’t know is where Charlie hides out.” She removed her wallet and pulled out a ten-dollar bill. “Any idea where that might be?”
The Blade Man Page 17
