A Winter for Killing

by Jason Mason

  “Baker, it’s so good to see you,” she told him taking off her coat and holding it, unsure of what to do with it. He stood up and walked over to her to take it out of her hands and hang it on his coat rack, then walked back over to give her welcoming hug. He could smell the perfume even more strongly now, definitely the same fragrance.

  “Connie, it’s so lovely to see you as well. You haven’t changed a bit from when I last saw you,” he told her using his genuine charm. Baker Desjardins oozed charm, it came with the territory of being a defence attorney. Sometimes it’s fake, sometimes it’s real, but for Connie today it was definitely coming out naturally.

  “Thank you, you look good as well. This is a beautiful office, much nicer than your old one,” she replied as she looked around the room at the hardwood floors, the large bookshelf filled with old law journals (which were entirely for show, everything is done online now) and the large dark mahogany stained desk that he had his papers spread out on.

  “Thank you, Connie,” he replied. “That’s what happens when your name is half of the name of the law firm I guess.”

  “I saw that,” she said. “I meant to congratulate you when I first found out but I wasn’t sure what the proper way to do that would be so I just didn’t say anything.”

  “Perfectly understandable. I’m pretty sure that what’s-his-name, that husband of yours, probably wouldn’t want you looking up an old fling to congratulate him anyways,” Baker said with a grin.

  “Oh, Terrance and I separated a while ago,” she responded.

  Here is it, thought Baker, she wants some free legal advice. People have been asking him for legal advice since he started law school, and even more after he started practicing. That’s what happens when you grow up, go to law school, and practice all in the same city. Well, the only advice he could give her would be to go find a good family law lawyer. He could recommend a couple of them he knew.

  “I’m so sorry to hear that,” Baker lied. “You must be devastated.”

  “It was inevitable,” she replied looking away. “I should have known before we got married that it wouldn’t last, but I think I just wanted to get married more than I wanted to marry the right person.”

  She looked over at him and smiled a little bit.

  “And you? You told me that you never wanted to get married, and since I still don’t see a ring I’m betting that hasn’t changed any.”

  Baker laughed. She’s just as observant as she ever was.

  “So you’ve noticed. Yes, I’m still single, working too much lately to even get out in the dating game at all,” he paused before he started again. “However, unfortunately I only do criminal law, not family law. So there isn’t really much I can do for you. But, I mean, I can get you the names of….”

  “That’s not why I’m here,” she quickly cut him off.

  “Oh?” he asked.

  “No, I’m here about my younger sister. She went missing five days ago and I haven’t heard from her that whole time. That just isn’t like Mary. You remember her, right? She was always such a quiet girl, such a good girl. We’ve never gone longer than a day without talking.”

  “You’re right, that doesn’t sound like her,” Baker said thinking back. “You and her spoke on the phone every night when we were together. Where do you think she is?”

  “I don’t know Baker,” Connie responded as she grabbed one of the client chairs to sit in. “The last I heard, she was down on Whyte Avenue where all the bars are.”

  “I thought she didn’t drink?”

  “She doesn’t normally. But this was a party for one of her classmates who got a new job down in Calgary. Because she doesn’t drink often at all she became a little too intoxicated and texted me to say that she was going to Uber back home,” Connie grabbed a Kleenex to wipe her eyes before continuing. “That was the last I heard from her.”

  “Have you gone to the police yet?” Baker asked.

  “Yes I have,” she responded. “But they told me there was nothing that they could do seeing how she was an adult and there didn’t seem to be any signs that anything criminal had occurred. I went again yesterday and they said they would add her to the missing persons list but that seems to be all they did. I’m not sure what I can do.”

  “Damn it, I’m not an investigator Connie,” Baker told her a little more sharply than he intended.

  This caused her to tear up a little more.

  “I know you’re not, Baker. But I didn’t know who else to turn to. If the police can’t help and you can’t help, what can I do? I’m so scared and alone,” she said wiping her eyes. It was genuine, Connie never cried just for attention.

  Baker closed the computer on his desk and shuffled his papers back into the folder to clean up his work area. He pressed the button on his phone to speak to his assistant.

  “Ashley? Cancel my meeting today. I’m going out.”

  Chapter 3

  The search for the right one

  She was close but she wasn’t right.

  That’s what the man told himself as he sat back in his reclining chair and lit up a cigarette. His television was playing a movie from the seventies about a taxi driver who went psycho and he had turned the volume up loud enough to drown out the screams coming from the garage. He knew from experience they wouldn’t last too much longer, and he lived far enough away from any of his neighbours that the screams wouldn’t be a problem. Still, it wasn’t the most pleasant noise in the world and he was trying to enjoy his movie.

  Once the film ended, he turned the television off and listened for any sounds but there weren’t any more at this point. He quickly opened the door to his garage and pushed the button opening the exterior garage door, closing the interior door as soon as he did to avoid any CO2 getting into his house. At this point he just kind of hoped that she didn’t make a mess out of his car, the last one was a bitch to clean. Maybe that was a job Sophie could do?

  After a few minutes to let the air dissipate he went back into the garage and turned his car off. It wasted a fair amount of fuel doing things like this but it was well worth the cost. He had a tiny garage so it never took too long to fill up, and was even quicker to empty out once he was done. Peering his head into his car to see the damage, he noticed there was a little blood on the backseat but overall his car was in surprisingly good shape. None of the fabric was torn, the window wasn’t cracked, and there was no damage to the gear shifter. Hell, this girl didn’t even put up any of a fight really. It affirmed his decision that she was never right. Waste of time picking her up at all.

  Christine Rivers sat dead slumped over the backseat, her arm still reaching over to the key in the ignition that she was never able to reach. There wasn’t even enough time for her skin to turn purple, but her skin was starting to turn cold, despite how warm the car was running. To look at her, the man couldn’t be sure she was even dead, but feeling no pulse confirmed it to him.

  He unlocked the handcuffs and dragged the body around to the back of his house where he kept his firewood and threw her behind a pile of it, placing a blue tarp on top of her body held down by some bigger logs. In severe cold like this the body wouldn’t decompose, it wouldn’t make any smells, and once it was frozen solid it would be a lot easier to work with. If the police suspected him at all then this would be a huge liability, but at the moment he felt safe as he left her lifeless body to lie alone among the firewood.

  Returning back inside the house, he grabbed two frozen dinners and placed them one on top of each other in the microwave, turning the dial to cook for five minutes. Letting them heat up, he went upstairs and changed from the jeans and t-shirt he was wearing under his coat while driving, to his well-worn black suit, complete with a white dress shirt and a red tie. He wanted to wear it when he saw her again, to let her know he was an important man and someone she should respect. No, someone she needed to respect!

  She might be right, his brain told him as he stared at himself in the mirror.

 
“No, she’s not right. Neither was right,” he responded.

  What if she is right?

  “I don’t know, she’s been more right than anyone that came before her and anyone I’ve seen after her. Maybe I should just give up?”

  What if you can make her right?

  “I don’t know if I can,” the man pleaded with his conscious. “She’s close, but I don’t know if she’ll ever be right.”

  If she’s not right you’ll have to kill her too.

  “I know that. I know that. I know that,” he repeated three times for the voice to stop. Hearing no more responses from his conscience, he headed back downstairs to the kitchen where the familiar ding of the microwave meant his food was finished. He grabbed both meals and some cutlery then headed down to the basement.

  ◆◆◆

  “Sophie, your food is done,” the man called out as he turned on the basement light.

  The light was blinding to the poor girl who spent most of her time alone in the pitch black basement, hearing nothing but skittering bugs crawling on the floor and sometimes over her. She would swat at them but was never able to tell if she killed them or just brushed them away. The floor was cold and concrete, though the man left her a thin air mattress that she could lay on and a ratty old blanket that smelt like it used to belong to a dog. They were her only possessions down here.

  “Please. I’m not Sophie, my name is Mary,” replied the woman. “I have money, just please let me go.”

  “Your name is Sophie. Sophie is the right name,” the man calmly replied as he walked over to her carrying the food.

  Mary Green was in a miserable state. She was still wearing the dress that she wore when she was kidnapped after the bar which was now getting real dirty and starting to smell terrible. Just like the rest of her. She was chained tight by the neck to a support beam in the middle of the basement, only being able to move three or four feet before the chain held her back from moving any further. There was nothing within reach of her so for the times the man was gone, she would do nothing but sit down and sleep, trying to regain her strength in case she was ever let off the leash.

  “Please, sir. I... I need to use the washroom,” she said shamefully.

  “We can do that,” the man said as he pulled out his keys and unlocked the chain from the support beam. “I’ll take you before we eat.”

  Holding her chain like a dog’s leash, the man allowed Mary to slowly walk over to the washroom where she was given the privilege to close the door partway while she did her business, as the man stood outside. Once she was finished she washed her hands out of habit, and when the water stopped the man yanked the chain, forcefully pulling her out of the washroom and back into the concrete basement.

  “You’re finished, let’s go eat,” he informed her.

  She didn’t say anything else as he lead her back to the beam and reattached the chain to it. Grabbing a table and two chairs from the wall on the side of the basement, he set them up in front of Mary then placed the microwaved dinners on the table. One for each of them. He then handed her a can of diet Pepsi and opened a regular can of Pepsi for himself.

  “This is good food isn’t it Sophie?” the man asked Mary who didn’t reply.

  Angry at her silence, the man stood up and pulled the table away from Mary so that she couldn’t reach her food any more. He then sat back down and continued eating his own meal, avoiding eye contact with her.

  “You can’t be rude, Sophie. I worked hard to be able to afford to put food on the table, and you’re being ungrateful,” he told her between bites.

  She’s not right.

  “Maybe she isn’t,” he responded.

  Mary was far too hungry and too thirsty to let her pride prevent her from eating. She knew from experience if she apologized to the man for whatever perceived slight he was offended by that he would let her eat again. She also didn’t know why he said some of the things he did, it was as if he was responding to a person who wasn’t in the room. Maybe she isn’t what?

  “I’m sorry, Mister,” she said feigning genuine remorse. “I won’t do it again.”

  Smiling, the man slid the table back towards her and scooted his chair close so they could be eating like a family again the way they should be. It was nice having a family again, and having Sophie back, even if she was acting strange. This must be kind of like what it feels like to have a loved one go through amnesia, he thought.

  Maybe she is right.

  “Sophie, thank you for apologizing. You always fly off the handle, but I can forgive you. Sophie always flew off the handle and she always apologized after. That is right. Sometimes I have to get violent and you know I don’t like getting violent with you, Sophie. But she always apologizes and that is right,” the man said half to Mary and half to himself. Mary couldn’t really ever tell who he was talking to, even though it was only ever just her and him in the room.

  The man had previously told Mary to call him Mister, but she had no idea what his real name was. Whatever it was, every night she cursed the name Mister after praying to God to be let out of this. She was relatively sure she’s been down in this basement for five days because around the third day she started to use a small pebble she found in the blanket to make ticks in the floor and keep track of the days. She finally drew the cross tick this morning and the realization that she’s been there almost a week was discouraging. Shouldn’t the police or her family have found her by now? Do they even know she was missing?

  “Sophie, did you like your meal?” Mister asked her.

  “Yes, I did,” she lied. “It was very good.”

  “That is good. That is right,” the man said rhythmically. “If you promise to be good, I can let you watch television with me tonight. But if you aren’t good you will have to be punished.”

  This was new. She had never been allowed out of the basement before, stuck going from the room she was tied up in to the adjourning bathroom, which looked like a work in progress that the man stopped working on in the nineties. She was unconscious when she was taken into the house and woke up down in the basement, chained up like a rabid dog so she didn’t even know what the rest of the house looked like.

  “I will behave,” she promised hoping she may be able to reach a phone or something if she was allowed out of the basement.

  “That is right. I will come back later then,” he replied.

  He then pulled the table and the two chairs out of the way and slid them back against the wall. He gathered the empty containers which they ate out of, the cutlery, and the two empty cans of pop and headed back to the stairway. As he reached to turn off the light Mary called out to him.

  “Wait! Don’t turn out the lights, please… please just leave them on.”

  He turned around and looked back at her with a disappointed look on his face.

  “Don’t be rude, Sophie,” he told her as he turned off the light and went back upstairs. Mary was back to being in perfect darkness with the bugs.

  Chapter 4

  The Search for Mary

  In the heated underground parking garage for his office building, Baker hits a button on his key fob to unlock the doors to his brand new silver Mercedes A-class. It was a beautiful, sparkling new car, a symbol of all the hard work and accomplishment he’s earned at the law firm and a tangible demonstration of the wealth he never had growing up. He also never had anywhere near this kind of money when he was dating Connie, though he was always striving to get there.

  The action of flashing his car’s lights from so far away was partially for show, so Connie could see the car as they approached it but she didn’t give him nearly the reaction he wanted. For that matter she didn’t give him any reaction, but that only made sense since she never cared about Baker driving a second hand Ford Focus back when they were dating. It seemed like she still didn’t care about cars… or status for that matter. She was acting the same way now as she used to back when Baker was working his ass off to get that promotion. It was nice even
though Baker couldn’t understand that attitude for himself.

  “Where are we going to go?” Connie asked him as she put on her seatbelt.

  “First we’re going to go back to the police,” he replied. “It’s been three days since you went there I think you told me? That’s more than enough time for them to have started an investigation.”

  “Ok,” Connie glumly replied. It was obvious she had no longer had any faith in the police.

  “You told me that one of her classmates got a job and that’s why she was out celebrating,” Baker said. “I didn’t know she was back in school.”

  “Yes, she went back last year to get her Master’s degree. She should have her thesis done by this spring if all goes well,” Connie answered wiping a tear from her eye. It tore Baker up on the inside to know that there wasn’t really anything he could do about it.

  They drove in silence the remaining few blocks it took to get to the police station which wasn’t a far trip at all by design. Baker was all too familiar with this particular detachment and all the police who worked there knew his car as he was there at least once a week to give advice to a client who had been arrested. This time though, there was no client and he had every intention on working with (instead of against) the police. For once.

  They zippered up their coats and entered the poorly marked front door of the station side by side. Baker knew exactly where to go once he was inside the building and was greeted by an older lady working at the front desk. Sweet Caroline Tucker was her name, and she was one of the few people that was actually still friendly to Baker when he goes to the police station. He is fully aware of the special treatment she gives him so he tries to make her feel special whenever he comes by. Maybe that way she’ll tell the other people here some nice things about him in the lunch room? Doubtful, but a man could hope.