The Ottawa Detective Series - Books One and Two

By Kevin Hopkins

Get the first two books of the Ottawa Detective Series, A Striking Similarity and Reserved for Murder.

A Striking Similarity - Book One

The first murder was a tragedy.
The second was a mystery.
The third was an epiphany.

Detective Terry Millar doesn't believe in coincidences. As a criminal profiler, he's built his reputation on identifying patterns and perpetrators.
But he's never encountered a killer like this.

Millar and his team are being led on a macabre treasure hunt around the city of Ottawa, and they're desperate to find a connection between the crimes before the killer strikes again.

The murders bear a striking similarity to one another, which should make it easier for the renowned profiler, but the evidence seems to point in an impossible direction.
With every secret that's revealed, Millar is a step closer to realising that nothing will ever be the same again.

If you like dark, witty crime novels that will keep you guessing, then you'll love the first installment of Kevin Hopkins' page turning Ottawa Detective Series. Pick up A Striking Similarity today.

Reserved For Murder - Book Two

Everyone has a secret.

And some people will go to any length to keep theirs.

When the body of a teenage boy is found hanging from a homemade noose, deep in the woods outside of a First Nations reserve, it casts a dark shadow over the community during their annual harvest powwow. For the Ottawa Detectives, the evidence doesn't add up. The deeper they delve into their investigation, the more questions they uncover.

Was Jonny Two Bears' death merely another tragedy in a string of teen suicides? And why does the reserve's Chief seem more interested in meeting with the media than mourning with the community?

The detectives are determined to find the answers before another child dies, and they're willing to use every resource they have available. Unfortunately, the mastermind always seems to be one step ahead, and all they can do is try to follow the tracks.

There's something evil in the woods.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kevin Hopkins
• Release date: Mar 4, 2020
• ISBN: 9781999226442

Book preview

Kevin Hopkins

The Ottawa Detective Series - Books One and Two

First published by Kevin Hopkins 2020

Copyright © 2020 by Kevin Hopkins

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

First edition

Editing by Juanita Penner

Cover art by Jon Stubbington

This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy

Find out more at reedsy.com

To my wife and partner in crime, Juanita, who always puts up with my crazy ideas.

Contents

I. A STRIKING SIMILARITY

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

II. RESERVED FOR MURDER

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

About the Author

Also by Kevin Hopkins

I

A Striking Similarity

Book One of the Ottawa Detective Series

CHAPTER ONE

As he rounded the bend in the road, Millar’s watch beeped, chiming off another mile. He was right on pace for the night’s run, and things were feeling good. He hadn’t been sure how his run was going to go tonight after the long day at work, but so far he felt like he could go for hours. He pressed a button on the side of his watch to bring up the time. 1:12AM. ‘Man, that was a long day,’ he thought. He hadn’t left the office until just after midnight and probably should have gone right home to bed, but he needed his run—it helped clear the thoughts and images out of his head and helped him sleep. He’d been tempted just to go home and climb into bed, but he had convinced himself to put on his runners and hit the streets. Even if he only got in a mile, it was better than nothing.

Living in a quiet neighbourhood in the east end of the city, the streets were almost always empty at this time of night. Millar saw the odd light on through someone’s window and heard a car off in the distance but there was no one else out enjoying the cool night air. That was something he never really understood. Late at night and early in the morning were his favourite times to go for a run. He had the roads to himself and only had to worry about a stray cat getting in his way. Maybe it was for the best that no one else seemed to feel the same way as he did.

He turned again and started up a side street towards the north side of the city to get to the paths by the river, the best place to run. Another mile passed by and it was time to pick up the pace. He really enjoyed this part of the run, when his breathing got a little heavier but was still a nice even rate. He could feel his body fall into a rhythm—everything started to work like a machine. Off in the distance he could see a flash of lightning over the river, accompanied by a low roar of thunder. A typical summer storm was heading in from the west, snaking along the river towards him.

He turned on his headlamp as he got to the path. There were no street lights on this part of his run. He adjusted the light so that he could see about ten paces in front of his feet. If there was something in his path, he would hopefully see it in time to adjust his steps to avoid injury. This wasn’t the place to fall and get hurt. During the day, the path was used by a lot of people: office employees biking to work in their suits, retirees walking to their favourite fishing spots, stay-at-home parents out for a jog, pushing strollers and chatting with friends—but at this time of night, chances were no one was going to be coming by to give him a hand.

He checked his watch again and saw that he was running a lot quicker than he really planned to, but decided to keep the pace to try and outrun the storm. This was where he got to see what he was made of. Did he listen to his body and slow down, or did he shut out the negative thoughts and keep pushing? Back when he had first started running, he would always listen to his body and slow down—or worse, stop running all together. But he had learned over the years that the body liked to lie. If he continued, his body would realize it was actually willing to go along for the ride. Usually, anyways.

Another two miles down and he was beginning to breathe hard. There was a strong breeze coming off the water which helped cool him off, but he was still starting to feel like the pace was too much and he’d have to slow down soon. ‘Just keep it going for another half mile,’ he panted out loud. He dug in and set his sights on a bench in the distance, his finish line for the night. Another flash and roar. The storm was closing in. He narrowed his focus, ignoring the burn in his legs and lungs.

Somehow, he managed to speed up again for the last two hundred yards, running faster than he had in months. Possibly ever. He passed the bench and began to slow to a jog, stopping his watch as he did. Slowing to a walk, he cycled through the data on his watch, mentally comparing the numbers to his last run. He liked the feeling of competition, even if he was the only person in the race. Competition helped him push himself, no matter what he was doing.

Feeling his thighs begin to tighten, Millar turned back towards the bench to stretch out his long legs. He grabbed a small bottle of water from a belt hanging around his hips. As he took a sip, another flash of lightning lit up the sky. The storm was getting closer.

Resting his right hand on the back of the bench, he bent his left leg back, holding his foot, pulling it gently towards his backside and feeling a pull in his aching muscles. It was a good pull. He turned and switched legs. His right thigh was much tighter than his left—he couldn’t get his foot nearly as close to his body. Over the years, he had noticed a loss of flexibility. It was something he always said he would work on, but never did. ‘I’ll do it tomorrow,’ he would say, but that tomorrow never came.

He checked his watch again. Time to head home and try to steal a few hours of sleep before he had to return to the office. He began to retrace his steps to his car, finishing off the bottle of water as he walked. His phone rang.

Wiping the sweat off of his ear, he pulled the phone out of his arm holder. Looking at the number he realized his day was about to get a lot longer.

CHAPTER TWO

‘Right, I’ll meet you there as soon as I can. Give me about half an hour.’ Millar hung up his phone as he reached his car, shaking his head. He really wasn’t in the mood to return to work so soon after leaving, but what could he do? In his line of work, he knew he was on call all day, every day. He grabbed a towel out of a duffel bag he kept in the back seat, and then dug around inside the bag looking for a snack of some kind—anything would do for now. He always kept an assortment of post-run goodies to tide him over until he could get some real food, whenever that may be. Settling on a bag of trail-mix that wasn’t too stale, he laid his towel over the front seat and got in. Ten minutes later, he turned onto his street and pulled up in front of his duplex. Parking on the street was a compromise. His neighbours had complained in the past with his odd hour comings and goings, so he did what he could not to wake them up. He had enough issues, he didn’t need his neighbours upset with him, too.

As he started to open his car door to get out, the storm finally broke and the heavens opened, lighting up the sky like mid-day and dumping sheets of rain. ‘Well, won’t need a shower, I guess.’ Millar closed the door again and reached back into his duffel bag. Fishing around, he found the box of baby wipes he kept in there for just this type of situation. Contorting his body around the steering wheel, he peeled off his shirt and shorts, and gave himself a ‘hobo shower’ as he liked to call it, wiping away as much sweat as he could. He grabbed the shirt and suit he had been wearing for the past sixteen hours at work and maneuvered into it, struggling to be able to pull up his pants and put on his socks. His car definitely did not have enough room for someone over 6’5" to try and use it as a dressing room, although it had been a bit easier when he was ten years younger and thirty pounds lighter. ‘Good enough for now,’ he thought. Fastening his seat belt, he caught a whiff of himself and made a mental note that he needed to put some deodorant in his bag. The baby wipes helped, but they weren’t miracle workers.

Fifteen minutes after leaving home, he arrived at the scene, which had already been taped off. Three cruisers were parked alongside, lights still flashing, and an ambulance was pulling away—no lights, no siren. ‘Never a good sign for whoever I’m here to see,’ he said under his breath.

A small crowd had started to form outside the line of yellow tape, which stretched nearly twenty-five feet along the sidewalk, tied off to a stop sign on one side and a lamp post on the other. ‘Where did they all come from?’ he wondered. The streets were usually deserted at this hour, unless there was something interesting going on—then everyone came out of the woodwork. It was amazing how quickly a crowd could form. The wail of a siren travelled through open windows, signalling something worth watching was happening, and giving people something to gossip about over the next couple of days. He slipped his tie on and stepped out into the rain. Walking towards the crowd of people he could just make out the shape of a body under a blue tarp. It looked like it was someone sitting on the ground, leaning up against the statue of Terry Fox. As he got to the line, one of the patrol officers noticed him. ‘Make way,’ he said to the crowd, holding up the tape for Millar to crouch under. ‘Morning, Detective. Detective Penner is over by the body waiting for you.’

‘Thanks,’ Millar said, wiping the rain out of his eyes. ‘Do you have an umbrella in your car? I forgot mine.’

‘Sorry, sir. I can give you my rain coat if you want,’ the officer said, already starting to undo his jacket. Millar looked down at him. ‘That’s okay. I’m wet already,’ he said. ‘Not sure how well that would work,’ he thought to himself. Millar was at least a foot taller than the officer and more than a few pounds heavier. As he started walking towards the statue, another flash of lightning lit up the scene, casting menacing shadows.

‘Well, this is lovely. Get any sleep?’ Millar asked Penner. His partner had left the office shortly before he had, only hours earlier.

‘Just climbed into bed when the phone rang. I should’ve stayed in the office. You?’

‘Didn’t even make it home.’

‘I can tell. Maybe time for a clean shirt?’ Penner said, screwing up her nose.

‘Nice. Thanks. So, what’ve we got?’ There weren’t a lot of people in the major crimes unit that Millar would let talk to him like that, but he had been working with Sue since they were new to the force, so she got a pass.

‘Young Jane Doe, maybe twenty-five to thirty. Big gash on the back of her head,’ she said. Millar was already looking around, surveying the scene. He always liked to see what was around the body before seeing the body itself. Sometimes the scene could tell him more than the body could.

‘One of the local ladies?’ Millar asked. There weren’t a lot of prostitutes in the neighbourhood, but there were still a few holdouts. A decade earlier, there had been a lot more, but times had changed. In recent years, there had been an influx of new residents who took pride in their homes, something that hadn’t happened for a long time, and the ladies had no choice but to find a new corner to work.

‘Don’t think so. I don’t recognize her. She’s not dressed right either, too nice. Looks like a new dress, new shoes.’ Another flash and crack of thunder, this time much closer together. ‘Man, I hope we can wrap this up soon, this storm sucks!’ Penner said, brushing her dyed red hair off of her face.

‘Ha. Are you new? Right, any ID on her?’

‘Not that we found, but the coroner isn’t here yet so we haven’t been able to move the body. Dispatch put in a call, so she should be here soon.’ Millar had his back to her as he looked around and she noticed his collar was sticking up. Without thinking she reached up and started to straighten it.

‘Hey, maybe I wanted it to be like that. You know, like the cool kids do,’ he said, recoiling away.

‘Terry, the last time that look was cool was about thirty years ago. Probably about the last time you were possibly cool,’ she said with a bit of snark in her voice. She liked prodding Millar, and he usually took it well.

‘Ouch! You’re just a ball of fun when you’re tired, aren’t you,’ Millar said, turning back to her.

‘Well, at least for me it’s only when I’m tired. Come on, the responding officer’s over here, let’s see what he’s got,’ she said, patting him on the chest.

‘It’s going to be a really long night,’ he grumbled.

As they walked over to talk to the first officer on the scene, they heard a familiar voice call out from the other side of the tape.

‘Detective Millar, Detective Penner, what can you tell us about the body? Do you know who it is?’ It was Arden Wall, a reporter from the local news. Millar turned to face him and saw a cameraman beside him, trying to get a clear shot with his TV camera, while holding his coat over the lens to keep the rain off. Penner just kept walking.

‘Right now I can’t tell you anything—I don’t have any info myself,’ Millar said. He wasn’t a fan of Arden. The odd time he was actually home to watch the evening news, he hated watching Arden conduct his interviews. He got what his ex-wife called ‘interview face’—he would lift his chin, squint his eyes and just look like an overly interested rat. Almost embarrassing when he was interviewing someone important.

‘Come on, you’ve gotta have something for me. Man? Woman? Child? Age? Come on, I need to have some information to put out,’ Arden said as another flash of lightning streaked the sky. The following blast of thunder sounded like a cannon going off. Some of the crowd took that as a cue to start heading back home, or at least back to wherever they had come from.

‘As I said,’ Millar said, getting closer and looking down at Arden, ‘I don’t have any information for you. If we get anything, I will let you know, but don’t hold your breath.’ Millar turned away, trying to catch up with Penner.

‘You know,’ Arden quipped, ‘you always seem a lot nicer when you’re being interviewed about one of your books than you are in person.’

‘Just like you seem much taller on TV. Fine, you want a comment. Here you go,’ Millar started as the cameraman quickly focused on him. ‘I am wet, tired, I want to go home and I think you should do the same. Good night.’ He turned and walked off, leaving Arden and the cameraman to stare at each other.

‘Just keep filming, maybe we can get something’ Arden said. ‘I’ll go try and find us some coffee and see if anyone in the crowd is talking.’

CHAPTER THREE

By the time Millar had chased off the local news vultures and caught up to Penner, the rain had started to subside.

‘Millar, this is the responding officer, Constable…?’

‘Grant, ma’am,’ replied a young uniform cop, shifting uneasily from one foot to another.

‘So, you were first on scene? What time did the call come in?’ Millar asked, surveying the surroundings again.

‘Didn’t, sir,’ Grant replied.

‘What do you mean? Somebody had to call it in, right?’

‘Well, sir, I actually called it in. I had driven by around, uh…’ Grant pulled a notebook out of his pocket and flipped to the last page of notes ‘…12:25 or so, and I noticed a woman sitting by the statue. I didn’t think much of it at the time—I was heading to a call over on Fifth. Didn’t stay there for too long, someone had complained there was a suspicious character wandering around but it was just a harmless guy heading home after a few beers at the pub. Anyway, at around 1:45, I was heading back this way and I saw she was still there, so I got out to see what was up. When I shone my light at her, she didn’t react at all, just kept staring straight ahead. Didn’t respond to me asking if she was alright either. When I got to her, I poked her on the shoulder with my light. Nothing. I did it again and her head flopped forward and I saw the gash on the back of her head. That’s when I called it in.’

‘Didn’t you try CPR? I notice she’s still sitting upright,’ asked Penner, with a hint of accusation in her voice.

‘No, ma’am. I could see part of her skull was missing and, well, there was grey matter visible. I used to be a paramedic. I knew there was nothing to be done.’ Grant glanced down at his notebook to see if he had written anything else. ‘I did find it a bit strange that there wasn’t a huge pool of blood around her. With a hole that size, there should have been a lot of blood—at least a lot more than what there is.’

‘Well, it has been raining like a bitch. Couldn’t it have washed away somewhat?’ Penner asked as Millar wandered over to take a closer look at the body.

‘Wasn’t raining at the time, ma’am. It didn’t start until later.’ Grant confirmed from his notes.

‘New cops always write down so much,’ Penner thought. She remembered when she was new on the force, she would go through a notebook every couple of weeks. Now, she could make one last for a couple of months. ‘Could she have fallen somewhere, hit her head and stumbled here after the bleeding slowed?’ she asked.

‘Don’t think so, ma’am. With a wound like that, I would say death came pretty darn quick. If nothing else, she wouldn’t have been able to move very far and I searched the immediate area after taping off the scene. Didn’t see blood or anything. Real strange, if you ask me.’

‘Right. Has uniform started knocking on doors to see if anyone saw anything?’ Penner asked, glancing over to see what Millar was doing.

‘Not sure, ma’am, but I can find out. If there’s nothing else…?’ Grant put his notebook back in his pocket and looked around for his Sergeant.

‘That’s good for now, thanks,’ Penner said. She walked over to see Millar. ‘So, what are you thinking?’ Millar had pulled back part of the tarp and was crouched down looking at the victim’s face. The rain had finally stopped.

‘Always a bit creepy when their eyes are still open. Wonder what she saw?’ Millar stood up with a grimace. ‘Look at the size of this gash! There is no way she was going to survive this. Where’s the coroner? We need to move her to see if there’s a lot of blood on her back or road rash or something. Maybe a hit and run?’

‘Maybe. But when I was looking earlier I didn’t notice any marks anywhere except on her head.’ Penner pulled the tarp down all the way. ‘See, clean as a whistle. Her dress still looks like it was just ironed. I really don’t know.’

‘What time did that constable say he first saw her?’ Millar asked, looking around again.

‘Um, just before 12:30 I think. Why?’

‘Well, there’s a bus stop just there,’ Millar said, pointing to his left. The sign was about twenty feet from the statue. ‘What time does the bus stop running at night? After midnight, right?’

‘I think around 1:00,’ Penner said hesitantly. It had been a long time since she had taken the bus. The city had pretty good service, but she didn’t like the fact she always seemed to end up sitting next to someone who smelled bad or didn’t understand the principle of personal space.

‘Right, well then the driver of the bus may be able to narrow down when our girl ended up here. Constable Grant!’ Millar yelled with his booming voice. Grant hurried over.

‘Sir?’

‘I need you to find out what time the bus made its last run past here and who the driver was. I’m going to want to speak to him,’ Millar said.

‘Yes, sir,’ Grant ran off to his car.

‘Ah, Detectives Penner and Millar.’ It was the coroner, Dr. Faye Pelow, a short, stocky woman in her sixties with a face full of character. A face that had seen more than most people could even imagine.

‘Faye, how nice of you to finally join us,’ Millar said sarcastically.

‘Hi, Faye, doing well?’ Penner asked.

‘Probably better than you—I don’t have to put up with him everyday,’ Faye jerked a thumb in Millar’s direction. ‘So, let’s see what we’ve got,’ Faye said, pulling on her black gloves. ‘Well that’s a nasty hit, eh? Not much blood. Rain?’

‘Apparently not. She was covered up before the rain really started,’ Penner said, squatting down beside Faye.

‘Really. Huh. Well, let’s turn her on her side and see what her back’s like, shall we?’ The three of them each carefully took hold of the victim and turned her to her left. Millar shone his light down the back of her dress.

‘No blood?’ he noticed, surprised.

‘Some, but not much. Strange, she would have bled a lot from that hit.’ Faye looked at the dress as they turned the body back to a seated position. ‘No pockets. Why don’t they put pockets on dresses? I’ll never understand why designers think woman don’t need pockets. Did she have a purse or clutch or something?’ Faye asked Penner.

‘Not that we found. Could have been a robbery I guess.’

‘Could have been,’ Faye said, looking over the body. She ran her hand down the front of the victim, reaching down her neck line, feeling around in her bra. ‘Here we go,’ she said, pulling out a driver’s license and some cash. When heading out with no pockets or purse, a bra can hold a surprising amount of stuff. ‘For you, Detective. Don’t say I never gave you anything.’ Faye handed the card and money to Millar.

‘Karen Wong. Thirty-two years old. Well, at least we have a name,’ Millar said, writing down her address before putting the items into an evidence bag he took out of his jacket pocket. ‘Let us know when you get her on the table, Faye. I’d like to be there.’

‘Sure, should be sometime later today, maybe this afternoon,’ Faye said, looking at Karen Wong’s eyes, which were still clear, almost alert.

‘Well, I guess we should head to Ms. Wong’s place and see if we can get anyone up,’ Millar said.

‘I was really hoping to head home, have a shower and a quick nap. Feels like this night’s not going to end,’ Penner said. ‘Thanks, Faye, always a pleasure. Millar, I’ll follow you, you know where we’re going?’

‘Yup, shouldn’t take too long to get there,’ Millar said. As they walked back towards their cars, Millar could see Arden wandering around, still trying to get the scoop.

***

Fifteen minutes later, Millar and Penner pulled up outside of Ms. Wong’s modestly-sized house. It was a typical house for the area with a brick front, fake shutters, and attached to the neighbour’s house by the garage.

‘Well, that was some fancy driving. I don’t think you actually stopped at any of those red lights,’ Penner said as she walked up to Millar.

‘I looked, no one was coming. The streets are like a ghost town this time of night,’ Millar said, looking at the house. ‘No lights on, but I guess that’s not too surprising.’

‘Maybe she lived alone,’ Penner suggested as she got to the front door. She rang the door bell and listened to see if any noise could be heard inside. Millar was standing back to get a good look at the house to see if any lights came on. Nothing.

‘Try again,’ Millar said, still watching the house. Penner rang the bell three times in succession, then listened again, trying to have a look through the window next to the door, but it was too dark to see anything.

‘Either no one’s home or they’re ignoring us,’ Penner said. ‘What say we just leave our card and come back in the morning. I’m beat.’

Millar checked his watch. ‘Sounds good to me. How ‘bout we meet at the station at oh nine hundred?’

‘Perfect,’ Penner said, pulling one of her business cards out of her coat pocket and sliding it into the door jam beside the handle.

CHAPTER FOUR

Millar didn’t bother looking at the time when he pulled into his laneway. It didn’t matter. He already knew it was too late to get much sleep before meeting Penner at nine. Grabbing his bag off the back seat, he quietly closed the car door. He walked up to the house and unlocked the front door, throwing his keys on the table and dropping his bag at his feet.

‘Well, good morning, stranger.’ He heard a voice coming from the living room as he took off his wet suit jacket and shirt.

‘Hey T. Late night or early morning?’ He asked his daughter, Tina, as he walked into the living room.

‘Bit of both, you?’ Tina was curled up in a corner of the couch, beneath a blanket.

‘Way too late a night. What are you reading?’ he asked, seeing a book across her lap.

‘Oh, just some book on profiling by some know-it-all detective guy.’ It was Millar’s second book, the one he had written after finishing a speaking tour at various precincts across the States. During that tour, he had met a lot of other profilers and learned several new ideas and theories. ‘Thought it might help me sleep. Pretty boring stuff!’

‘Nice, thanks for the review. Do me a favour and don’t post it on-line,’ Millar said, smiling. ‘I need to shower and get a few hours of sleep. What time are you heading to school? I can drive you at eight thirty, if you want?’

‘Thanks, but I have to be there early for practice. Don’t forget I have a match this afternoon. Three thirty. You promised this time,’ Tina said. The look in her eye was a cross between accusation and hope.

Millar paused in the hallway. ‘I’ll try, but no guarantees. We got another body tonight so…’ he started.

‘Yeah, yeah, I know. The dead always come first. Whatever,’ Tina said, opening up the book again.

‘Now that’s not fair, T!’

‘Don’t talk to me about what’s fair! When was the last time you actually came to watch me? Probably back in my first year! That’s six years, Dad! How fair is that? As soon as there’s a body you’re there in a flash! Maybe if you spent some time with the living, Mom wouldn’t have left,’ Tina said, slamming the book shut in her lap.

‘Tina, you know we were having problems long before I joined homicide. My job had nothing to do with the split.’ Millar rubbed his tired eyes. ‘Look, I’ll do my best to get there this afternoon, okay?’

‘Don’t bother,’ Tina said, tossing the book down. She unwound from the couch, letting the blanket fall on the floor and went to the front hall closet. Grabbing her gym bag, she muttered, ‘See ya later,’ before slamming the front door behind her.

‘Man, life was so much easier before she became a teen,’ Millar thought as he climbed the stairs to take a shower. Even as a little girl, Tina had always had a bit of an attitude, but it had gotten much worse over the years. Her mother said it was just hormones but Millar really wasn’t too sure. He could profile criminals, but his own daughter was a mystery.

Only a few short hours later, his alarm went off. ‘How is it eight thirty already?’ he wondered. Getting out of bed, he pulled a clean, dry shirt and suit out of the closet. He dressed quickly and went into the bathroom to brush his teeth, something he had evidently forgotten to do before going to bed; his mouth felt like he’d smoked a pack of cigars. ‘My God, I look awful!’ he said out loud, looking at the bags under his eyes. This job had really started to take a toll on him. Late nights, early mornings, not enough sleep and too much junk food eaten while sitting in his car.

His phone rang as he was straightening his tie. He glanced at the number before he answered.

‘Hey, Penner. Get any sleep?’

‘Not nearly enough. Change of plans. I’m starved, want to meet at Joe’s for breakfast, then head over to Ms. Wong’s place?’

‘Sounds like a plan. I can be there in, say, fifteen minutes?’ Millar said checking his watch.

‘Works for me, see you there. Order me a coffee if you get there first. Later.’

‘Likewise.’ Millar hung up the phone. He walked downstairs, passing through the living room, his book still on the floor where Tina had dropped it. ‘Not sure why she thinks this is boring. I thought it was one of my better works,’ he thought, picking it up and putting it back on the shelf next to his other two books. ‘Well, let’s get this day going.’ He picked up his keys from the table and headed out to his car.

Millar got to Joe’s before Penner did. It was closer to his house than hers, since she lived right downtown. More convenient for work and for going out at night, but not as good if you had kids, which she didn’t. He went in and grabbed a table close to the door—it was one of the only tables left. Surveying the diner to see who else was there, he saw mainly beat cops, the odd suit, and one table of old guys, exchanging stories after their morning walk.

‘Terry, how’s it going? Been a while. Been busy?’ Joe asked, sitting down across from Millar at the table. Joe was an older guy with grey, straggly hair. He had been a cop in the neighbourhood for almost thirty years, but had to take early retirement because of an injury. He used part of his retirement fund to open the diner. He liked hearing the stories from all the cops that came in—made him feel like he was still working.

‘Yeah, real busy, Joe. Had another murder last night, kind of a weird one. Seems like the body was dumped over on Wellington, right at the Terry Fox statue. Strange place to dump a body, right out in the open like that,’ Millar said.

‘Strange indeed! Definitely not your usual dump site. So, eating alone today?’ Joe asked.

‘No, Penner should be here soon. We’ll get a couple of coffees and the usual when you get a chance. Have to inform next of kin this morning then off to the autopsy sometime today, I think,’ Millar said.

‘You got it,’ said Joe, getting up from the table. ‘You know, you’re real lucky to have a partner like Sue.’

‘So she likes to tell me…all the time. Speak of the devil,’ Millar said as Penner came in the door.

‘Hi, darling,’ Joe said, giving her a hug as she got to the table. ‘Looking good as always! The usual?’

‘Thanks. And yes, please.’ Penner sat down across from Millar. She reached over and pulled a hair off of Millar’s shoulder. ‘It’s like your shedding these days. Stress?’

‘Probably old age. Definitely noticing more and more hairs in the bottom of the shower in the mornings,’ Millar said.

‘That sounds about right,’ Penner said with a smile. There was only a couple of years between the two of them, but Millar looked almost ten years older. ‘You know, a good moisturizer would do you wonders.’

‘I’ll take my wrinkles, thanks.’

While waiting for Joe to bring their coffees, Millar looked around the room again and noticed Constable Grant sitting with a group of cops on the other side of the restaurant. ‘Excuse me for a sec,’ he said to Penner, standing up and walking over to him.

‘Constable Grant?’ Millar said getting to his table.

‘Oh, hi, Detective,’ Grant said, wiping some egg off of his chin. ‘I was going to stop by your office this morning on my way home. I was able to get in touch with the bus company this morning. The last bus passed by your crime scene at 12:48,’ he said, checking his notes. ‘The driver was a Mister Sanjay Singh. He’s working again this afternoon at 3:00. Did you want me to get him into the office to see you at some point?’

‘Just give me his number. I don’t know when I’ll be available. Do you know if the officers that canvassed the area last night got any leads?’ Millar asked, staring at the food on the table. His stomach rumbled.

‘Not too sure, sir, but I can find out from my Sergeant, if you’d like.’ Grant started to stand up from the table.

‘No that’s fine, finish your breakfast. Just have your Sergeant call me at some point, okay?’ Millar turned to walk back to his table. He could see Joe putting down their coffees.

‘Will do, sir,’ Grant said, returning to his eggs.

As Millar sat back down at his table, Penner was already finishing her coffee. ‘Thirsty?’ he asked, taking a sip of his own. He wasn’t sure how Penner could drink coffee as quickly as she did without burning her mouth.

‘Tired. Just trying to stay awake.’ She waved her hand, getting Joe’s attention. ‘Another cup when you can?’

‘No problem, Sue,’ Joe said.

‘So, what’s the plan?’ Penner asked, turning her attention back to Millar. ‘Any idea what time Faye’s planning on starting in on Ms. Wong?’ Joe arrived with their food and a fresh pot of coffee. ‘Thanks, Joe.’

‘For you, anything,’ Joe said.

‘Well,’ Millar started, putting pepper on his eggs and potatoes. ‘Not too sure. I’ll give her a call when we’re done. I figured we would head to Ms. Wong’s place later on this morning, see if anyone’s home yet. I’m supposed to go see Tina’s match at three thirty, so hopefully I get time.’ He watched as Penner put ketchup on her eggs. ‘Gross.’

‘Whatever, you don’t have to eat it. How is Tina? Still moody?’ Penner asked, having another sip of coffee.

‘As ever. Hopefully this teen-aged angst stuff passes before too long. It gets real tiring, real quick,’ Millar said between bites.

‘It’s only really started. You probably have at least two more years, if you’re lucky,’ Penner said finishing off her coffee, looking to get Joe’s attention again.

‘Excellent. At least it’s something to look forward to, I guess. So, any thoughts on the dump site?’ Millar asked as Joe showed up with more coffee.

‘Got me,’ said Penner. ‘Maybe she was being carried and the person got tired? Really don’t know.’ Penner picked up a strip of bacon.

‘Could be, I guess. Even though she was petite, a hundred pounds is a hundred pounds. Dead weight would feel even heavier. Don’t know how far I would be able to carry a body.’ Millar finished off his sausages. He kind of wished he had ordered an extra helping.

‘People don’t usually just leave their victims out in the open like that, not unless they killed them there.’ Penner’s phone rang. ‘Hello? Oh hey, Faye. At ten? Sounds good, we’ll see you then. Cheers.’ Penner drained her third cup of coffee. ‘Okay, eat up. We got a date with a body.’

CHAPTER FIVE

Millar pulled into the parking lot of the coroner’s office just behind Penner. The coroner’s office was located in the lower level of a new medical building only two blocks from the police station. Until recently, the old building had been located in the west end of the city, which, depending on the time of day and traffic, could take an hour to get to. Even longer in the winter, if there was a good dumping of snow. The new building was much more convenient. And modern. When they entered the large, brightly lit autopsy room, they could see Ms. Wong’s body was already under a sheet on a stainless steel table. Millar grabbed two masks and a couple of pairs of gloves from a shelf beside the door, handing a set to Penner.

‘Thanks. Morning, Faye,’ Penner said, walking to the side of the table in the middle of the room, putting on her mask and gloves. Millar slipped on his gloves but didn’t bother putting on the mask, instead just holding it up to his face.

‘Detectives,’ Faye responded. ‘So, we just got started. Karen Wong, four foot seven inches tall, ninety-seven pounds. I looked over her clothes. There was some blood on the back of her dress, right around the neck line, but not much. A few more drops down the back of her dress. Seems to me like the hit on the back of her head happened and then she