Chapter 6
The Inspector disappeared back into his office, the weight of the killer's methods making his shoulders slump like a bad cement job. Chin and McTavish took to their desks, McTavish looking into Yvonne's Redmond's financials, while Chin started following up on the girl's social networking, checking her Facebook page and Twitter feeds. While Wallace perused the note, Pepper checked something on his computer.
"Rupe, I just checked the website for a place I remember driving past on Clarke Road near Trafalgar. It's called The Archer's Haven and their hours today are two until nine. I think we should pay them a little visit and see what we can find out about that arrow."
"Good idea, buddy." Wallace pushed the paper with the note to the side. "I'm getting nowhere with this."
Pepper was already out of his chair and slipping his jacket on as Wallace caught up with him. They stopped by the lab and retrieved the evidence bag with the arrow in it. The Flamingo Kid made them sign it out in the evidence log.
They pulled out of the parking garage onto the street, the early darkness of late winter already upon them, the street lights illuminating the blackened tarmac while hustling pedestrians jammed their hands deep in their pockets to ward off the chill night air.
"Let's take a step back and look at what we've got," Pepper said as he headed east on King Street. "This guy was pretty meticulous with the way he posed this girl, even after killing her in such a way that shows he's got to be harboring a lot of rage. If it wasn't either of those old boyfriends, it makes you wonder what happened between Yvonne Redmond and this guy to make him want to do that to her."
"I know. To inject her with the bleach and see how much pain she must have been in, it's surprising that he went to such extremes to make her look that way afterwards, rather than just dump her."
"This seems more symbolic, like he's trying to make a statement to us," Pepper said. "He took a lot of time with the way he posed her and then to carefully place that note. With those song lyrics, it keeps nagging at me that that message was directed towards us."
"I thought the same thing as you about those lines from Poison Arrow and the fact that the music of that era is kind of our thing. I mean, we've both put a lot of people behind bars, and in the last couple of hours I've already wondered if any of them were capable of something like this. We've pissed off some bad guys, but I can't see any of the guys we dealt with being that smart. Do you have anybody that would hate your guts that much?" Wallace asked.
"Nobody that messed up." Pepper paused for a moment. "How does the music from that time period tie in with Yvonne Redmond? It just doesn't fit."
Their route towards the east end of the city didn't take them past the university or college, so they didn't have to encounter any drunken St. Patrick's Day revellers on their brief journey. Pepper knew that was a good thing-with the mood he was in, it wouldn't have gone too easily on any beer-swilling fratboy who crossed their path right now. He and Wallace didn't even partake in their usual banter on the relative merits of '80s bands, each of them absorbed in their thoughts about the case.
"Why do so many of these strip plazas look like crap?" Wallace said as they parked in front of the store, the sign 'Archer's Haven' shining down on them. The single storey plaza was built of striated concrete block, the vertical ribs in the concrete blocks failing miserably in their attempt to make the building look architecturally justifiable.
"They build 'em as cheap as they can, and I bet the rents are pretty cheap too," Pepper said as they got out of the car. "As bad as they look, there definitely has to be a market for them, otherwise we wouldn't see so many around." They looked up and down at the signs of the other businesses in the plaza: a motorcycle repair shop, a small ethnic bakery, a tile supply company, and a plumbing company's office. No Apple Store, no Armani Exchange-this definitely wasn't London's answer to Rodeo Drive.
They strode to the Archer's Haven front door, noticing that the windows of the unit were all covered with a reflective coating, ensuring the contents of the store were not visible to any passersby. The only opening in the coating was a square in the middle of the door, where a 'We're Open' sign currently faced them, next to the store's listed hours of operation. The sign looked a million years old, and dangled from a piece of fishing line slung over a plastic suction cup stuck to the glass on the door. Pepper could see that it was one of those signs you could just flip over, and he would have laid ten to one that the sign most likely said, 'Sorry, We're Closed', on the other side. All that would have been missing was the added 'Gone Fishin'-or in the case of the Archer's Haven-'Gone Huntin'.
A buzzer rattled as they opened the door, announcing their presence. Three staff members turned their way as the door closed behind them. A grizzled old man sat on a stool behind the cash counter, while two young guys glanced over from behind what appeared to be a service counter on the opposite side of the narrow space. They noticed two men further down one of the aisles who appeared to be customers, with what looked like another staff member showing them a bow.
The long narrow unit was jam-packed, with stuff everywhere. There were more bows of different types than Pepper had ever imagined, racks mounted one over the other on the walls filled with bows of various lengths and sizes. There were long bows, recurve bows, crossbows, bows with hi-tech devices and scopes attached, many of them looking deadly. Pepper was shocked at the amount of potential killing equipment that was within easy reach of anyone who walked through the door. He looked up and down the various aisles, overflowing with all kinds of archery equipment and accessories, figuring this little store all on its own carried enough of an arsenal to outfit all the elves of Rivendell. His eyes took in every detail as he slowly turned around, taking some solace in the fact that the store windows were barred on the inside, and there were security cameras spaced at a number of locations in the ceiling and behind the two service counters.
"Can I help you with anything?" one of the young guys behind the service counter asked, a pleasant smile on his face. The kid reminded Pepper of TinTin, with his closely-cropped light-brown hair sticking straight up over his forehead, and his innocent youthful appearance. He seemed ill-suited to be an employee in a place that carried so much deadly equipment.
They stepped over to the service counter as Pepper pulled out his badge and flashed it. "I'm Detective Pepper, and this is Detective Wallace. Would you mind answering a few questions for us?"
Like anybody who gets that kind of question from the cops, the kid instantly grew nervous, probably wondering how they knew he ran that red light on the way into work today. The other employees instantly perked up, but remained where they were, their ears cocked in the direction of the two cops and the kid. The cranky-looking old guy behind the cash counter, who Pepper pegged as the owner, looked at the kid suspiciously, wondering if he'd made a bad hire.
"Uh?.sure," the young guy replied, his voice unsteady.
Pepper had seen the way the guy reacted, and he was used to it. He wanted to put him at ease as quickly as possible-nervous people made bad sources. "Thanks, we appreciate it. We're investigating a case in which an arrow was involved, and we're just wondering what you can tell us about this kind of arrow." He nodded to Wallace, who brought up the clear evidence bag with the arrow in it and laid it on the black rubber pad on top of the counter. "Neither Detective Wallace nor I have much of a background in this area, and we were hoping you guys could help us." As Pepper spoke, he gestured with his hand towards the other employees, letting everybody know that no one here was in trouble, and that they were actually hoping to draw on their expertise. As he finished speaking, he noticed old grizzle-guts drop his gaze back to the crossword puzzle he'd been working on, apparently satisfied that, for now at least, the kid was worth keeping on the payroll.
Once the kid saw the arrow and heard what Pepper was saying, he visibly relaxed, happy that he'd dodged having to pay a sizable traffic ticket. He took a step closer and reached down, touching the edge of the evidence b
ag as he looked back and forth along the length of the arrow. His eyes stopped, then focussed on the blood-covered tip. He looked up at them, serious now, wanting to ask in the worst way about the blood, but knowing it wasn't his place.
"Um?well?," he paused and coughed, clearing his throat. "Okay, what would you like to know?"
"Whatever you can tell us."
"All right." The young man reached beneath the counter and retrieved a measuring tape. He gestured to the arrow questioningly as he reached towards it. "Is it alright if I??"
"You can touch it-just don't take it out of the bag."
"Yes sir." He pulled the bag closer to him and measured the arrow from one end to the other, looking closely at the colourful feathers of the fletching and then down at the labelling in the middle of the shaft. "This arrow is made by Beman, one of the ICS Hunter series. It's a four hundred," he said, pointing to the number '400' printed on the shaft.
"What does the four hundred mean?" Wallace asked.
"Sorry. The numbers refer to the stiffness of the arrow. The lower the number, the stiffer the arrow."
"What difference does that make?"
"That affects the flight of the arrow depending on the distance of the shot. Do you know what distance this arrow would have been shot from?"
"In all likelihood it was shot from extremely close range."
"Then the stiffness of the arrow wouldn't have made any difference."
"Okay, what else can you tell us?"
"It has a 29 inch carbon shaft, stainless steel fieldpoint," he pointed to the blood-covered tip, and then moved his hand back towards the other end. "The fletchings are standard turkey feathers, with a plastic nock." He paused as he pointed to the notched piece of white plastic at the end of the arrow where the bowstring would fit into.
"Is this a hunting arrow?"
The kid shook his head. "Very unlikely. This type of arrow, with the standard stainless steel fieldpoint, is primarily used for target shooting. For hunting purposes, those types of arrowheads are usually used." Pepper and Wallace turned as he pointed behind them, their eyes followed his finger to numerous packages of arrowheads on a pegboard. The one he was pointing to was a box of typical triangular-shaped arrowheads, much more lethal-looking than the small steel tip that barely covered the end of the arrow they were showing him.
They turned back and Wallace nodded to the arrow in the evidence bag. "What kind of bow would you use for an arrow like this?"
The kid shrugged as he stepped around from behind the counter and grabbed a standard looking bow from one of the wall racks. "It would probably have been from a basic recurve bow like this." The bow he held didn't look like anything special, as they'd hoped. There were no fancy pulleys or gadgets attached, nothing that would make it stand out.
"From the looks of that bow, it could probably be used by pretty much anyone? You wouldn't have to be really strong, or anything like that?" Pepper asked.
The kid shook his head. "No. You wouldn't need to be strong to use a bow like this. It's pretty much just an average bow, and it could be used by either a man or a woman."
"And that arrow, there's nothing special about it? It's not the type of arrow to be used by a specific type of archer?" Wallace asked. They'd been hoping that the arrow would be able to give them some kind of lead to latch onto, maybe something unique that only a few skilled professionals would possess.
Again, the kid shook his head. "No. That arrow is just about the most common target shooting arrow you'll find."
"Are you the only place around that sells them?" Pepper asked, hoping for something.
"No. That type of arrow, you can get them pretty much anywhere, any Bass Pro store, any kind of store that sells outdoor sports gear. Canadian Tire might even carry them."
"Really? They're that easy to find?"
"Oh yeah. You can even get the hunting ones from Amazon."
"You're kidding me? You can order something like that from Amazon?"
"I know-it's scary, right? But yes, you can. We've had to drop our prices to compete with them. Like everything else, people were just ordering them online and having them delivered right to their homes."
"Jesus," Wallace muttered under his breath.
Sensing the questions were over, the young fellow couldn't resist any longer. "Was this arrow used in a-"
"Thanks for your time," Pepper said, cutting the kid off. Pepper handed the kid one of his business cards, and then took out his notebook. "Give us a call if anything else comes to mind. And just in case we have any more questions, can I get your name?"
"Uh?.it's Justin."
Pepper started writing. "Last name, Justin?"
"Zane."
Pepper continued writing, and then paused as he looked at what he'd written. He slowly looked up at the kid, eyebrows arched up questioningly. "Justin Zane?"
The kid's mouth turned down at each corner as he nodded his head. "I know-I hate my parents."
Pepper and Wallace couldn't help but smile. "Okay, thanks again, Justin," Pepper said as he flipped his notepad closed and slid it back into his pocket. Wallace reached forward and picked up the arrow. "We really appreciate your help."
"No problem."
On their way out, Pepper nodded to the owner, who grunted in response.
The air had started to take on a definite chill as night descended. The two of them pulled their jackets close as they strode purposely to the car. Once he started the car, Pepper cranked the heat.
"Justin Zane," Wallace said slowly, emphasizing the pronunciation of the kid's name. "Can you believe that?"
"No wonder he said he hates his parents."
"And I thought Scot Pepper was bad."
"Hey, hold on there, Rupert? If I was you I wouldn't be saying anything about my name. What kind of name is Rupert for a grown man anyways?"
"A damn cool one, that's what it is."
Pepper pulled the car out onto Clarke Road, and headed back to the station.
"Well, that arrow angle looks like it turned out to be a dead end," Wallace said. The flickering light from the streetlights arced rhythmically into the car.
"I was hoping we'd be able to maybe trace him through the arrow somehow-but no-it figures the guy would use the most common arrow around. I couldn't believe it when that young guy said you can order them online."
"I know. With all the crazies out there, that's just nuts," Wallace said, shaking his head.
"Why don't you call the Inspector and see what's happening?"
Wallace punched the number into his phone, and spoke briefly to the Inspector as Pepper headed west on Trafalgar towards downtown. After only a minute or so, Wallace put his phone away.
"No new leads, but he wants us back in the office, pronto. He wants us to go through everything we've got so far to see if we're missing anything obvious. Chin and McTavish are still there and he wants us to bounce everything we know off each other."
Pepper nodded, knowing that with the strange events that had happened that day, they were all getting a bit frazzled, but he also knew how important the first 48 hours were on a case like this. He pulled into the underground garage at the police station and as they entered the squad room, they spotted the Inspector perched on the edge of a desk talking to Chin and McTavish. "All right, let's get to it," Caruso said, as the new arrivals pulled up their chairs.
For the next four hours they rehashed everything that had happened during the day, looking at the photos of the crime scene the Flamingo Kid had taken, as well as discussing the report from Janssen. They threw out theories and possible motives for the young girl's murder, but they were nothing more than that-theories. It wasn't until after Chin expressed the thought that it may have been done by one of Councillor Redmond's political enemies that the Inspector called a halt.
"Okay?.okay. I think we all need to get some sleep," he said as he lifted his big frame off the desk, grimacing as he set his weight down on his troublesome hip. "Now get out of here. I want everybod
y back and raring to go first thing in the morning."
Pepper took the stairs to the parking garage as the other three took the elevator. He popped out of the stairwell just as the elevator doors opened.
"You know, Rupe, I can never get used to you driving that fire engine. Man, that thing is bright," McTavish said as he nodded towards Wallace's bright red minivan parked between his black Ford and Pepper's black Mini.
It had been a sore point with Wallace since his wife had made him trade in his beloved old Triumph Spitfire and put the money towards the new family vehicle once her old sedan bit the dust.
"I'm wondering," Chin said, "when you're driving that soccer mom van, do you keep your balls in the glove compartment, or just hang them from the rear view mirror?"
"Very funny, Chin," Wallace said. "Just wait, your turn will come, and then you'll get to feel how embarrassing it is."
"We know all right," McTavish said. "You remind us of that fact pretty much every day. See you tomorrow." He and Chin nodded to the other two as they headed to their cars.
Pepper checked his watch as he walked over to his Mini-it was later than he thought.
"'Night, buddy," Wallace said.
"You too." Pepper watched as his good friend opened the door to his van and started to climb in. "Rupe." Wallace stopped with one foot already in the car and looked over. "It's been quite the day. Are you okay?"
Wallace paused, and then nodded as he let out a long sigh. "Yeah, I'm okay. But you're right. I don't think we've ever seen a day like this. How about you, Tee, are you all right?"
Pepper shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, we've both had better days, but I'm all right. I'm tired and sore, but I'll be fine."
Wallace nodded in return. "Me too. I'm gonna go home and put some ice on the back of my head for a while. That wall Bartolucci slammed me up against was damn hard." He paused, giving Pepper a wry smile. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"See ya."
Pepper slid into his little car. He followed Wallace up the ramp and onto William Street, Wallace turned left towards Westmount while Pepper headed north, towards the townhouse condo he had near Sunningdale. He took a left onto Oxford Street after he crossed the tracks, the two-seater Mini hugged the road like a go-kart through the turn. He turned right onto Richmond and headed north, spotting a number of green-clad St. Patrick's Day revellers on his way past the university gates. He took the curve heading onto the bridge over the Thames River a little faster than he should, loving the feel of the tight suspension reacting instantly to his light touch, the tires gripping the road like glue.
He loved his Mini, the close comfort of the small car fitted him like a glove. He'd had it a few years now, after wanting one forever-and he knew he'd never give it up. Both family and friends chided him about the small car all the time, but he loved it anyways. And if he ever needed to pick up or move anything that required a bigger vehicle, Wallace always had his minivan, or his parents and their SUV were just a short distance away, not to mention his younger sister's husband, who was partners in a renovation company and had a pickup truck. No-he wasn't about to get rid of his Mini anytime soon.
Minutes later he pulled into the garage of his condo. He'd bought it two years ago after living in an apartment for a number of years. It was the middle unit in a grouping of three, with four other townhouse blocks on the whole site. His unit was perfect for him; single storey, open concept with an upgraded kitchen and en-suite bathroom, a second room on the main floor that he used as an office/dumping ground, and an unfinished basement that he was in the middle of finishing, and had been since moving in. His brother-in-law had offered to take over the project for him, but Pepper had refused, even if he only found time to bang in a few nails a week. It would get done, someday. The thing Pepper liked best about his condo-no elevator.
He headed straight to the big walk-in shower in the en-suite bathroom and turned it on, letting the water heat up. He looked at himself in the mirror after stripping off his clothes, noticing nasty-looking bruises on the back of one shoulder and on the front of one arm where Bartolucci had tossed him around. He pressed on his shoulder, wincing at the pain. He felt like he'd been running on adrenaline the whole day, and now he was starting to come down from that high, realizing how tired and sore he really was.
He stood under the shower for a long time, letting the pelting spray rain down on his head, washing away the rigors of the day. He leaned forward against the wall in front of him and looked down at the soapy water swirling across the shower floor and down the drain, taking a little of his pain with it, the swirling water slithering like a snake into its lair.
Feeling like a member of the human race again, he dressed in sweats and an old t-shirt and headed to the kitchen. He put on some music, thinking that some Roxy Music would be just the thing right now. From his CD collection, he chose Avalon, one of his favourites.
He opened his fridge and grabbed a Diet 7-Up, popped it open and took a swig as he scoured the fridge for food. There was some leftover spaghetti there, and the microwave took care of that in a hurry. Dumping it into a big pasta bowl, he took it with him and sat at his desk in the spare room, the lilting timbre of lead singer Bryan Ferry's distinctive voice resonated from the stereo in the great room.
He turned on his computer and went to the local news website, knowing he'd be able to catch up on the top stories from either the six p.m. or eleven p.m. news. Sure enough, the lead picture was of the parking lot behind The Roundhouse restaurant, with the tag line, "Councillor's Daughter's Body Found Behind Downtown Restaurant".
Pepper clicked on the article and watched as the anchorwoman introduced the story, quickly switching to the filmed report narrated by Anthony Fragakos. The reporter had obviously gotten more information after his call to Pepper earlier in the day. The initial clip of the Inspector at the scene had him divulging next to nothing, saying at that time that the police were investigating an 'incident' and more details would be released later. After the Inspector had spoken with Yvonne Redmond's family, they had released the girl's name and confirmed the homicide. Knowing the reporter the way he did, to Pepper, it almost seemed like Fragakos took delight in making the announcement of the murder, although the compassionate look he put on his face made him look to the average viewer like he was the most sympathetic person on God's green earth.
They showed the same high school yearbook picture of Yvonne Redmond that the Inspector had given them earlier in the day. As Fragakos continued speaking in the background, they flashed to other pictures of her playing soccer and in a high school play, as well as pictures of her with her parents and brother, followed by a picture of City Councillor Redmond himself.
The camera switched back to Fragakos, who was once again standing next to the police caution tape at the edge of The Roundhouse's rear parking lot. Behind him, two officers were standing guard near the now-empty dumpster. He nodded towards the dumpster and then turned back to face the camera, microphone in hand. "London Police Services is continuing their investigation into the death of 19-year old Yvonne Redmond. At this point, it appears the police are searching for any leads to help them with this ongoing investigation. Anthony Fragakos, Channel 10 News."
Pepper closed the clip and shovelled a forkful of spaghetti into his mouth. As usual, Fragakos had been very subtle in his comments about the police. As with a number of his previous reports involving police matters, he chose his words carefully, and this time, his words subtly made it sound like the police didn't have any positive leads, and were scrambling to find something to latch onto. Pepper had to admit that in a way, that was right-but they were by no means the bumbling idiots that he knew Fragakos thought them to be.
He finished his meal and decided to play some chess on his computer. He'd been playing since he'd started high school, and had reached the level of candidate master, loving the way the game challenged his mind. He'd realized after joining the police force that to be successful in that field, it required the same qualities that i
t took to be successful at chess: the ability to perform precise calculated analysis, patience, and mental discipline. It had been a number of years now since he'd played over the board, but he played fast games over the internet whenever he had the chance. Most people would have found it strange that playing these lightning-fast blitz games was relaxing, but Pepper found it a magical way to unwind at the end of the day.
He logged onto the Internet Chess Club, a pay site where players from all over the world played at all hours of the day. He hit a tab requesting an opponent for a five minute blitz game, and within seconds the two dimensional board came up. The name and flag in the corner showed he was playing someone from Romania, his opponent's rating close to his own. He used the mouse to move the pieces from square to square, each player's starting time of five minutes ticking down as they rapped out their moves. He mated his opponent with barely seconds left on each player's clock, and then quickly started another game, this time with someone flying the Union Jack. He lost that game, and then a further one to a strong master from Brazil before shutting it down for the night, feeling more relaxed.
With his stomach full and his mind at ease, he hit the sack. He lay in bed picturing Yvonne Redmond, the arrow sticking out of her chest. Pepper thought about what Janssen had told them in the lab, what the girl's last hours must have been like before the bleach took her life. He rolled over and pulled the covers up to his shoulders, knowing they had to catch this guy-fast.
Every Breath You Take Page 8
