Cold Mourning. Brenda Chapman
air blasted into their faces. He backed the unmarked car out of his space and turned it to face the exit. They merged with the traffic onto Elgin and kept going south to the Queensway on-ramp heading west. He cut across two lanes to the show-off lane.
Whelan glanced at her after they passed the Bronson exit. “There’s some perv in the west end who gets into apartment buildings and jumps women in the lobby. He likes to grab them from behind and fondles them through their clothes. Then he gives them a shove into the wall and runs off.”
“Lovely. How many times has he done it?”
“Five so far. This latest woman called it in twenty minutes before you arrived. She’s in her apartment and shaken up but says she’s not hurt. None of the women has given us a great description of the guy and we’re hoping this time we get more to go on.”
“Is he escalating?”
“Rouleau’s worried enough that he wants this nipped in the bud, so to speak.” Whelan flashed a smile. “Welcome to the big bad city. Our investigations unit is an offshoot of Major Crimes. It was formed to prevent crime from happening and to take over tricky homicide and major crime cases after a certain time period from Major Crimes. We’re the latest trial balloon. If we end up proving good value, we could be the way of the future, that is, if we get the chance to show our stuff.”
“Some would say policing needs to start thinking outside the box.”
“Or it just comes down to resources. Hard to keep a handle on crime if there aren’t enough cops on the street. So what brings you to Ottawa anyway?”
“Just wanted a change.”
“You were with the OPP up north?”
“Yeah. Out of Red Rock. Before that, I worked a reserve in the far North. When this job came up, I thought it would be a chance to try city policing.” It was the story she’d decided on as she drove south. It was as good as any.
Whelan glanced at her. “Where you staying?”
“Not sure yet. I thought I’d bunk at the Y until I have a chance to look at apartments.”
“I’d take you home but we have a one-month old with colic. You’ll thank me later for not offering.”
“That’s okay. Your first?”
“Second. Harry’s three and gotten wild since baby Logan showed up. Meghan is sending me for a vasectomy as soon as she can get me into a clinic. Either that, or separate bedrooms.”
“More information than I need,” said Kala. “Really.” She pretended to cover her ears.
Whelan laughed. “We’re going to be spending a lot of time and I like to lay my cards on the table.”
“Well that makes one of us.” Kala smiled but she kept her eyes straight ahead. Traffic was light and they’d crossed the city in no time. Whelan eased the car across the lanes to the Woodroffe off-ramp.
Rouleau filled his coffee cup for the third time that morning and wandered over to look at the photos of murder victims posted on the wall in their meeting area: a homeless man, two gang members, and a cab driver. They’d been handed the cases from homicide after his team formed – newly cold cases with little to go on. He wasn’t convinced his team would uncover enough evidence to solve any of them, but that wouldn’t stop them from painstakingly building the files. Solving any one of them would validate the unit’s existence.
His heard his phone and made it back to his office by the third ring. He said his name automatically before he checked the incoming caller. Frances. It was a shock to hear his ex-wife’s voice.
“Jacques.”
The same breathy way she’d always exhaled his name when they were together, a honeyed combination of warmth and exasperation. He smiled to hear her say it again. His heart beat faster. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” he asked.
“I thought it was time, that’s all. We promised each other we wouldn’t end up hating, remember?”
He closed his eyes. “I remember.”
“I wonder … do you think we could meet for coffee or a drink maybe?”
All the times he’d longed to hear her voice. For months she’d avoided contact, and now she was offering him … what? He had no way of knowing. “When?”
“Tonight, if you’ve time. I know it’s short notice.”
“I can make it tonight. Should I pick you up?”
“No. I’ll meet you at the Royal Oak on the Canal at eight thirty. Just for a drink though. I’ll have already eaten. Is that okay?”
“That’s fine.”
He hung up the phone and pictured his ex-wife the last time he’d seen her. She’d just come from the hairdresser’s and her naturally brown hair had been cut short and streaked with blond highlights that made her face pale and her eyes darker. She’d lost weight and walked with a new confidence, but he’d liked it better when she was a curvier size twelve. They’d just signed the divorce papers and she was in a hurry to cross the street and catch a bus to her apartment in Sandy Hill. She was wearing a new olive-green pantsuit with a gold scarf knotted around her neck and it had struck him sad at her need to remake herself. She’d tilted her chin up and out like she did when she’d made up her mind about something and wouldn’t hold his eyes as he said goodbye. He’d wanted to hug her but knew she wouldn’t welcome his touch. He’d made it the three blocks to his car before he’d crumpled into the front seat and wept.
Grayson poked his head around the doorway to Rouleau’s office. “Got a minute?”
Rouleau glanced at the photo of a murdered cab driver named Abul-Jabbar Amin on his desk. Whoever had attacked him that January night a year ago had pummelled his face into a bloody pulp, crushing his nose and bludgeoning the right side of his face with a weapon that was never recovered. Rouleau closed the folder. “Sure. Come in.”
He watched Grayson cross the room and flop down in the chair on the other side of his desk. Rouleau glanced at his watch and mentally kept track. Five minutes in, Grayson got down to it.
“About Stonechild. Are you sure she’s a fit for our team?”
“She’s young but comes highly recommended.”
“She doesn’t have experience in major crimes and isn’t familiar with Ottawa. I think she’ll have a hard time.”
“I’m willing to give her a chance.”
Grayson spread his hands upward. “I just wanted to let you know the team isn’t opposed to her working with us, but we have concerns about her experience.”
“Point taken. I know I can count on you to help her settle in.”
Grayson stood to leave. “Sandeep and I are heading to the Rideau Centre to track down the missing homeless woman Annie Littlewolf and then we’ll call it a day.”
“Nobody at the women’s shelter phone in yet?”
“I checked and they haven’t seen her. They’re worried because she and Claude were always together and now that he’s dead, they’re not sure what she’ll do to herself.”
Rouleau sighed. “Or maybe she saw whoever left him dead in the alley and she’s gone into hiding. Find out what you can and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You should call it a night too.”
“Soon.”
Grayson turned at the door. “I just want you to know it’s not because Stonechild’s …”
“Descended from the original inhabitants of this great land?” asked Rouleau with his head down.
“Yeah. That.”
Rouleau