by Don Easton
“Like hell the smell is gone,” replied Jack. “The fumes erase your sense of smell. Not to mention, killing plants.”
“I don’t understand. Why were you yelling at me not to move?”
“Connie, you’re standing in a bloody meth lab,” replied Jack. “I’m sure of it. If not meth, then something else as bad. A lot of these places are booby-trapped.”
“Booby-traps? … Christ, I don’t think so. I’ve already been through it. The place has been cleaned out. But it is bloody, I’ll say that much. You can come in and see … but be careful.”
“If I’m careful,” replied Jack. He turned to Laura and said, “Wait out here.”
“You don’t have to convince me,” she replied.
The smell of chemicals assaulted Jack’s nostrils as soon as he entered. Within seconds he couldn’t smell anything as his sensory organs became temporarily incapacitated. He looked at the diluted trail of blood leading to the prone figure on the floor. The victim’s face had been literally pulverized. His silk bathrobe was halfway up his chest from being dragged inside by the ankles. A gold crucifix on a chain from his neck was resting on the floor above his head, with the chain held in place by his chin and ears.
“Wearing a bathrobe?” questioned Jack.
“They had trouble with winos sleeping under the trees in their backyard at night. Maybe he heard something and went out thinking he was rousting a wino and caught these guys instead.”
“I’d say they caught him,” replied Jack. “Nothing left of his face. Whoever did him must have a hell of a temper.”
“The perp had to be doused in blood,” commented Connie. “I’m not the blood-splatter expert, but if you noticed the splashes up the back of the house, I bet he was whacked at least half a dozen times.” She gestured to a cement construction brick lying in a puddle of bleach nearby and added, “It was nice of them to leave the murder weapon behind.”
“Wasn’t so nice that they poured bleach over it afterward,” noted Jack. “Anything in here to give us a clue who they were?”
“Not that I could see, but take a look and be my guest,” replied Connie.
“A quick look,” replied Jack. “We shouldn’t be poking around in here without wearing hazmat suits. Let’s make this quick and get out.”
Jack saw a clean, square patch on the outside of a door leading to a separate room. Connie saw what he was looking at and said, “I told you they cleaned it out. Looks like they must have had a list or a picture or something on the door.”
Inside the room were several wooden benches and shelves, all with chemical stains and circular burn marks where bottles had dripped. Jack saw where acidic fumes had blackened some of the walls and ceiling. High on one wall a small exhaust fan had been left with its frame screwed into the wall. The fan was blackened with a dark film of dirt and covered a fist-sized circular hole leading to the outside. Toxic fumes had burned the rhododendrons outside.
“I was right,” said Jack. “This was their kitchen.”
“Kitchen?” replied Connie.
“Not for making pasta,” replied Jack, slowly gazing around the room. A small eyehole screw mounted in the corner of the room close to the ceiling caught his attention. His gaze followed the same height to a similar screw stuck in the wall above the door jamb. “You see that?” asked Jack.
“Couple of screws?” asked Connie.
Jack examined the top of the door and pointed to several small holes in the wood. “They had a switch mounted here,” he said.
“What are you talking about?”
“Trip wire,” replied Jack. This place was booby-trapped. Pretty common with labs. Nasty surprise for anyone wanting to rip the place off.”
“What about cops?” replied Connie angrily. “I’d have walked right into it.”
“Don’t think they care about cops, either … or nosy neighbours, for that matter. Some of these idiots don’t realize they would get more time in jail for setting a booby trap than they do for the lab itself. Lucky for you they decided to take their stuff with them. Let’s get out of here. The fumes are really carcinogenic.”
“What’s the proper procedure now?” asked Connie.
“Drug Section has specially trained members to dismantle clandestine labs under the direction of a chemist. This has already been dismantled so I would call in a Health Inspector who will cordon off the building. The place may only need a really good cleaning or it could require renovations. As far as Forensics go, see what the Health Inspector says, but you may need to tell them to wear hazmat suits, as well.”
“What about the idiots making it? Don’t the bad guys —”
“Some take precautions or wear masks, but that is a far cry from the proper protection of a hazmat suit. If they stay at it, they end up with brains the size of walnuts or blow themselves up before they die of cancer.”
Connie nodded, but stopped to stare at Father Brown’s body. A ray of sunlight broke through the clouds and glistened off the crucifix in sharp contrast to the pool of blood.
“You Catholic?” asked Jack.
Connie nodded.
“Think maybe you should turn the investigation over to someone who isn’t?”
“Why?”
“If it goes to court the defence will say that because of your belief you weren’t objective in the investigation and claim you framed whoever did this out of blind rage.”
“I may feel rage at what took place, but I’m not blind. I’m seeing this through to the end.”
Jack shrugged in response.
On their way up the outside steps, Connie gave Jack a sideways glance and said, “I can’t believe that you, of all people, would be trying to slam me on objectivity.”
“I wasn’t slamming you. Simply saying what the defence will do.”
“Well?” interrupted Laura, looking questioningly at Jack as he and Connie stepped outside.
“Clandestine lab,” said Jack.
Laura glanced at the upper portion of the house before briefly closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.
Connie realized what Laura was thinking and she turned to Jack to ask a question that she feared she already knew the answer to. “You said carcinogenic … what about the people who live upstairs?”
“Who knows,” replied Jack. “For them it will be like living with a ticking time bomb. Never knowing if … or when it will kill you. The bad guys used an exhaust fan … maybe the people upstairs are okay … maybe not. Everyone who has spent any amount of time in the place should get checked out.”
“She was running a daycare,” said Connie quietly.
“I know,” replied Jack.
“Kids … babies,” said Laura, “everyone will have to keep checking to make sure they don’t —” she stopped, choosing instead to bite her lip to maintain control of her emotions.
Unlike Laura, Connie’s sorrow and fear was replaced with anger. “These sons of bitches killed a priest,” she said vehemently. “They had the place booby trapped … meth lab in a daycare … they don’t give a fuck about anything or anyone.” She unconsciously clenched her fist as she stared at Jack. “I want these guys. I want them behind bars for the rest of their lives.”
“You and me both,” said Jack sombrely. “We’ll meet with Gabriel and show her the pictures. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
All three of them stared up at the house and took a moment to regain control of their emotions. Connie was the first to talk. “I’m told Gabriel is distraught and in shock,” she cautioned. “Time is of the essence. I want her to be able to focus right now, so don’t tell her about the cancer stuff. When you’re done, I’ll take a statement from her, after which I’ll tell her to go to the doctor. The sooner we can find these guys the better.”
Jack sighed and said, “Okay, the ugly part of introducing her to her future nightmares will be left to you.”
“Along with contacting all the parents who brought their children here,” added Laura.
Connie nodded in
agreement and said, “The pictures might be our best bet. Got a feeling that Forensics will be a dead end. I’d like to get these assholes before they’ve destroyed any more evidence. With the amount of blood the actual killer would have on him, even if he showers, we might still find trace amounts under his nails or up his nose and in his ears … providing we get him soon.”
“We’ll let you know in about an hour,” replied Jack.
Jack and Laura spent the next forty-five minutes sitting with Gabriel at her kitchen table while Jack presented a slide show on his laptop of all the bikers he knew in British Columbia, along with their friends and associates.
During this time, Noah sat in the living room while Faith, not understanding what had happened, was content to lie under a blanket on the sofa and snooze.
“I’m sorry,” said Gabriel, when the slide show ended. “I don’t think any of these people are them.” She wiped her eyes again, barely controlling her tears as she had during the entire process. Jack knew that her grief over Father Brown was genuine and her inability to help added to her grief.
“The men who were in my basement looked nice,” sniffled Gabriel. “They didn’t look dirty or have long hair and beards like most of the people in these pictures.”
Jack nodded that he understood.
Gabriel leaned back in her chair, extending her arms by her side, and said, “I still don’t understand. Father Brown was a beautiful person. He would read bedtime stories to Faith, help Noah with his homework. Babysit.… He went out of his way to help complete strangers. He didn’t have money … so why? Why would anyone commit such an ungodly act?”
“We’ll do our best to find out who did it and why,” replied Jack.
“Maybe it wasn’t the people downstairs. Maybe it was one of those drunken men who keep coming to my yard. Some use very bad language and —”
“Everything has been cleaned out of the basement,” said Jack. “Also the door was locked and Father Brown is inside.”
Gabriel stared blankly at Jack. When her mind accepted his reasoning, she focused on another matter. “There’s blood out on the lawn and the house. I’ll need to clean it,” she said, placing her elbows on the table and covering her face with her hands.
“Try not to think about that,” said Jack, feeling lame. How can she not think of it? “You’re going to need some emotional support. I’ll put you in touch with Victim Services. They will help you. Is there a place … relatives, somewhere you could stay for a few days?”
“I have a sister in North Van. She has a house … but she’s married … children. I don’t want to impose …”
“Under the circumstances you should stay with her. You’re still in shock. It’s difficult to think clearly. You need to do what is best for you and your children.”
Gabriel didn’t respond. The silence was broken when Noah and Faith came in and Faith tugged on Gabriel’s sleeve. “Mommy, my throat hurts,” she whined, before coughing.
Gabriel lifted her onto her lap and looked at Jack and said, “She had the mumps vaccination last week and has a bit of a lump on her neck. Likely a small reaction.”
Jack caught the look on Laura’s face. He knew her concern was the same as his. She said, “Jack, why don’t you call Natasha and ask her if that type of reaction is normal?”
“Natasha?” asked Gabriel.
“My wife is a doctor,” explained Jack, getting up from his chair. He walked into the living room and called Natasha on his BlackBerry. He knew the reaction wasn’t normal, but hoped he was wrong. Natasha confirmed that he wasn’t.
“Can I look at the pictures?” asked Noah as soon as Jack returned to the kitchen.
“Sure,” replied Jack. “Push this button each time you want to advance.”
“I know how to use a computer,” said Noah. “Are all these really bad guys?”
“Some are and some might be their friends,” replied Jack.
“But if you’re friends of a bad guy then aren’t you a bad guy, too?” asked Noah.
“You don’t always know who the bad guys are,” replied Jack, glancing at Faith curled up on Gabriel’s lap.
Gabriel stroked Faith’s hair with her hand and asked, “Were you able to talk with your wife? What did she say?”
“Um … she said that type of reaction is not normal and that you should have her checked out right away. It could be a lot of things.”
“Like what?” asked Gabriel, her face revealing her worry.
“She, uh, didn’t really elaborate. How long has she been sick?”
“Only a few days.”
“Anybody else sick in the house?” asked Jack.
“No, thank the Lord,” replied Gabriel.
“Jack,” said Laura, “I don’t think we should wait for Connie to take a statement if Natasha said —”
Jack put up his hand, signalling for Laura to stop and turned to Gabriel and said, “Does Faith have her own bedroom?”
“Yes,” replied Gabriel, sounding puzzled.
“I would like to see it,” replied Jack. “Would you mind?”
“I haven’t cleaned it,” replied Gabriel. “With her being sick … the bed isn’t made.”
“That’s okay,” replied Jack. “We’re not with Good Housekeeping.”
“Okay … I’ll show you,” replied Gabriel. She carried Faith down the hall as Jack and Laura followed. As they reached the bedroom door Gabriel asked, “What are you looking for?”
“Examining if Faith could be sick from an environmental cause,” replied Jack.
“I told you I hadn’t cleaned for a few days,” responded Gabriel nervously, “but I am sure that my housekeeping is not such as to make anyone sick. If you are thinking …”
“From what I can see, your home is impeccable,” replied Jack, entering the bedroom. “I’m more concerned with fumes coming up from the basement.”
“Oh, that,” said Gabriel, sounding relieved. “I’m used to it and don’t smell it anymore. What you’re smelling is cleaning fluids that the men downstairs sometimes mix up for different cleaning solutions. They told me that different types of floors and rugs require different types of cleaning agents.”
Jack spotted a discoloration on the wallpaper alongside Faith’s bed. He got on his knees and looked under the bed. What he saw made him want to retch. It was a cold-air return vent coming up from the basement. He was conscious of Laura getting down on her knees and looking. Their eyes met and he saw her mouth drop open in shock as their eyes met.
“I found him!” yelled Noah, from the kitchen. “This is one of them!”
The excitement of Noah’s discovery caused Jack and Laura to temporarily suspend their thoughts on the cold-air return. Seconds later, everyone huddled around Noah at the kitchen table as he proudly pointed to a picture.
“See?” said Noah, pointing at the picture with his finger. “That’s Joe.”
“Oh, no, honey,” said Gabriel, while ruffling Noah’s hair. “Joe doesn’t have a beard. This man looks —”
“No, Mom,” said Noah, sounding exasperated. “His hair is the same colour.”
“Reddish-blond,” said Gabriel. “Honey, lots of people have hair that colour.”
“No,” said Noah adamantly. “You never believe me. You’re so dense sometimes,” he muttered.
“Noah Parsons, you don’t talk that way with me,” replied Gabriel crossly.
“Mom, look closer at his eyes,” pleaded Noah. “He even has the same freckles on his nose.”
Gabriel looked again and after a few seconds she brought her face closer to the screen. “Good heavens, you’re right,” she said in amazement. “It is him!” She looked at Jack and added, “But his hair is short now and he is clean shaven.”
“Told you so,” said Noah, looking pleased with himself.
Jack knew the man in the photo. Herman Varrick. A year and a half ago Varrick ran one of seven labs on which Jack orchestrated raids after receiving information from an informant inside Satans Wrat
h. An informant he no longer had.
To make matters worse, Satans Wrath had an informant of their own. Someone working in Drug Section had tipped off some of the labs prior to the raid. Those who were arrested were released the following day. Some were still awaiting trial, including Varrick. So far, the dirty narc had never been identified.
Jack reflected upon the time of the raids and the time that Varrick moved into Gabriel’s home. Varrick relocated here as a result of what I did. I’m responsible for —
Faith coughed and started to cry.
Jack stared at Faith. His brain tried to protect him from what his actions may have caused. Maybe she has a cold. Could be nothing — the cold air return under her bed … still …
He continued to stare as his thoughts gave in to the more likely reason for her illness. He clenched his jaw in an effort to control his own tears of frustration and sadness.
Chapter Four
Jack and Laura stood in the backyard and quickly told Connie what they knew.
“Herman Varrick,” Connie said. “So he’s a member of Satans Wrath?”
“Not a member,” replied Jack. “They wouldn’t risk having a club member take a chance like that. But Varrick was under their control before. I’m sure he and his fellow lab rats are still receiving their orders from Satans Wrath. Last time the bikers had a prospect handling the lab rats to act as a go-between with a member of the club. Things have changed since then, but Satans Wrath will still be in control … only more insulated.”
Connie looked pensive so Laura said, “A prospect is like a probationary member of the club. Sometimes they call him a striker.”
“Yeah, I know that,” replied Connie dismissively. “I was deciding how to approach the situation. If Satans Wrath are handling these guys, I know I won’t get any confessions, even if I do find traces of blood.”
“You don’t think traces of blood up some guy’s nose and in his ears would be enough to convict?” asked Laura.
“I doubt it,” replied Connie. “Defence would have their client say they were there and tried to stop the assault. Turn the murderer into a hero. I want more than blood drops if we’re dealing with Satans Wrath.” She turned to Jack and said, “What do you think? You’re the expert on these guys.”
