Hello guys! How are you all?
Hopefully fine and dandy, huh?
Anyway, here I am with the new story.
It's a police procedural drama with Gail and Holly as the main characters of course.
But there is a slew of supporting cast too.
This is the first time I am writing something like this. So, kindly ignore the less refined technicalities.
I am not familiar with how the Toronto PD works but I sincerely hope this doesn't come off as a mindless crap.
Also, I have never been to the beautiful country that is Canada so I have refrained from using particular street names and place names.
I don't know if I should continue this or not. Please let me know if it is worth it.
And any comment or incidence mentioned in the story is not supposed to be taken in a wrong way. Please, do not take anything at heart.
It's purely for entertainment purpose, completely fictional. And I do not mean any offense to any person who reads it. I promise!
The characters are certainly not mine. I just love playing around with them. Oh, but the mistakes are mine!
So, now without further ado.
Here is the first chapter.
Enjoy!
The Peck & Stewart Spin-Off
Fostering A False Hope - I
Detective Peck took a moment before exiting her car. In. Out. In. Out; trying to establish the breathing pattern her therapist always suggested. No one really knew but this practice had become a routine of her. An exercise; a rehearsal of sorts to call forth the detached persona she always assumed when at job, a guise that she absolutely needed for the sake of her own sanity. In. Out. Again and again. She flicked her gaze to her blazer on the passenger seat but decided to forego it. The August air was quite humid but didn't carry that particular Canadian chill. She inhaled deeply and took upon the familiar smirk as she finally got out of the car.
Admitting herself to a crime scene in plain, formal clothing still felt a little strange to her after donning that blue uniform for years and years. She gave her attire a secondary approval and hiked up her eyebrows so that her aviators slightly slid down her nose. She was wearing a fitting black trouser that rode her hips snugly with a crisp maroon shirt, cuffs folded neatly just below her elbows. Her sleek brown shoulder holster caused her shirt to stretch at the chest but she didn't pay any mind to it. Why would she when it earned her appreciative double-takes. She was an attractive woman, after all. A thin black belt camouflaged through her pant loops and she never forgot to wear her big-dialled leather watch; the straps of which on most days matched her belt. It was almost always off-centre, a little skewed and situated upon the protruding left wrist bone. To complete the serious cop look she preferred a low heeled ankle boots, of course colour coordinated. Her mother would heartily approve of her attire; she scoffed at that random thought as she made her way to the house.
The neighbourhood was fairly decent; a cul-de-sac suburbia in downtown Toronto. Well, decent enough for a murder in day light kind of incident anyway. As she made her way to the house in front of her, her mind habitually catalogued everything in the vicinity. The cars and cruisers parked nearby, the uniforms stationed outside the crime scene, their faces, their expressions, their displeased sighs, every little thing.
She nodded once to the uniform as she bent down to pass the yellow crime tape and took off her aviators, hooking it in her open shirt over her chest. The inside of the house was abuzz with flurry of people busy with activities. She stepped further inside for a much clearer view. A woman, most probably in her early forties, was lying face down in a pool of blood in the kitchen. Her jaws clenched once and she blinked. The metallic scent of human blood filtered into her lungs through her next breath, leaving a very repugnant aftertaste on her tongue. She carefully examined the kitchen and frowned when she couldn't see a sign of struggle. She picked up a lingering smell of something burnt. And, of course, the pan on the stove was black as coal. "Huh," she hummed. She turned every which way and saw that the CSU and the forensic team were just beginning their work. She would much rather search the entire house than stand and wait for the time of death or basic information about the dead body.
Gail made her way to the hall and smiled at Andy. "Come on," she motioned the T.O. to follow her as she made her way to the master bedroom. Clearly the neighbours weren't too particular about cleanliness. She didn't touch anything just looked around casually. "So, how is the new rookie?" She asked Andy.
Andy groaned as her shoulders slumped dramatically. "Pathetic," she sighed. "I really don't understand how he got through the academy," she shook her head and carried on the silent observation with Gail.
Gail chuckled. She had an idea. "Has he mentioned any connections yet?" It never took the incompetents too long before they tended to brag about their familial links to the higher ups.
Andy nodded, "mmhhmm," she hummed. "His step-daddy is something something...I didn't listen," she shrugged and followed the blonde out of the room.
Gail laughed knowingly. There were more people in the hall than earlier. "Who is he?" Andy lifted her chin in the direction of a rookie busy with his phone. "Is he seriously taking a selfie right now?" She mumbled her astonishment loud enough for Andy to hear.
Andy chuckled, "yup. He does that." She replied as if it was so very natural.
Gail contorted her face and eyed Andy only to receive a defeated shrug from the brunette T.O. She watched the rookie for a few more moments and grinned. "You want me to do something?" She suggested.
Andy shared the blonde's grin. "Like what?"
"I don't know," Gail blinked and thought for a few seconds. "How about a dumpster dive?"
Andy's grin widened, "won't we get in some trouble though?" If the rookie's step-father was really someone influential enough to screw up her career, it would be wise not to mess with the delusional rookie.
"Don't worry," Gail squeezed Andy's forearm reassuringly. "I will be the one giving orders. And you have got no connection like a Peck in the PD." She indulged in the luxury her family legacy brought her but only in these situations. Never for her own career advancement; not that she ever thought about it. "You just get ready to enjoy your day, McNally," she patted the brunette twice and made her way to the kitchen.
Gail pulled up her shoulder length hair into a loose ponytail before borrowing a pair of gloves from one of the forensic buddies. Her eyebrows drew in together in a deep scowl when she noticed a tall, bespectacled brunette in a hideous jacket entering the house. She noticed the red lunchbox kind of thing hanging from the woman's right hand. "Hey lunchbox," she shouted and took a few steps toward the entrance.
Dr. Stewart was in a mad rush. For the first time in her career she had arrived so late at a crime scene. She looked down at herself and groaned inwardly. Did I really have to wear this stupid jacket? She knew taking a detour to Vancouver before starting here in Toronto would come to bite her in the ass. But on the very first day? She had just arrived yesterday and all she was surrounded with were numerous cartons stuffed with her things. She wondered if she could get a day or two off to settle down in her new apartment and unpack her things. She dashed inside without paying any attention to the people around her.
Gail saw the brunette ignore her shout. "What the hell?" She muttered and paced a few steps closer. "Hey lunchbox, you aren't allowed to be here."
Holly heard someone from behind her but in her hurry decided to ignore it. "Thanks, appreciate it." She responded absently.
"Fucking civilians," Gail mumbled. "I said you are not allowed to be here," she ground her teeth and latched onto the brunette's right elbow effectively stopping the woman from taking another step.
Holly frowned when she felt the offending hold on her arm. She turned back and jerked her hand free. "And I said I appreciate your concern but I am allowed," she grit her jaw and responded, lifting her supplies bag for an obvious statement.
Gail tilted her head in confusion. "This is a crime scene and I think the person who ordered the pizza is most likely dead," she deadpanned.
Holly huffed in annoyance. For someone so beautiful, the blonde was extremely vocally unpleasant. "I am allowed because I am the forensic pathologist," she lifted the red bag in the air. "I thought it was obvious," she murmured and shook her head.
Gail's lips curled into a silent 'O'. She trailed her gaze at the frazzled brunette in front of her. This woman seriously needed a lesson in fashion. Granted it's a crime scene but that never should be a license to wear a jacket so disgusting. "Only to nerds," she sniped. "Anyway, can you come back later? This is my crime scene," she asserted with an authoritative frown.
Holly nudged her glasses away and pinched at the bridge on her nose in between her eyes, mentally reciting the alphabets backwards to keep her temper in check. "Are you seriously dismissing the initial assessment of the dead body?"
Gail raised her left eyebrow at that clipped tone. She breathed and motioned the brunette to continue walking ahead. She watched the woman for a few seconds and left to inspect all the areas of the house.
Holly took in the amount of blood and one thing became certain. She chucked off the jacket somewhere blindly before kneeling down beside the body and starting the preliminary examination.
"So," Gail began tentatively, "what's the report?" She asked looking down at the dead body, careful to avoid the pathologist's gaze.
"Liver temp suggests the time of death to be somewhere between eleven at night and two in the morning," Holly provided with a slight frown of concentration.
Gail hummed absently when she saw that the dead woman was stabbed. "Cause of death?"
"Multiple stab wounds in the lower abdomen area," Holly recited her findings. "But the cause of death is exsanguination." When she didn't receive any response she tilted her head up. "Complete blood loss."
Gail's cold blue eyes clashed to the brunette's and she gritted her jaw. "Oh...thank you," she exclaimed theatrically. "I so did not know that." She shook her head and sighed. She looked around and saw the perfect target. "Hey, Gerald," she yelled the first name that came to her mind. When the rookie looked at her she nodded and motioned him forward. "How is the training going?" She disinterestedly inquired.
Duncan frowned. "Fine...it's going fine. But my name is Duncan," he smiled.
Gail narrowed her eyes. "You don't look like a Duncan."
Duncan blinked in confusion. "I don't know...but that's the name my parents gave me." He sounded comically unsure.
Gail smirked. "Well, then they made a mistake." She opened the fridge and took out a bottle of water. She knew that the pathologist was watching her every move and a crooked smile pulled at her lips. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. "Look at me," she instructed the rookie. Keeping her palms tight and straight, she made a cross across Duncan's figure. "By the power vested in me by the Metropolitan of Toronto, I, Detective Peck, bestow upon thee the name Gerald. From this moment on thou shalt be addressed as 'Gerald'." She then scooped some water and sprinkled it over the rookie's head like it was 'Holy Water'. "Amen."
"What the fuck?" Duncan twisted his face wiped at his wet forehead with his uniform sleeves.
"So now that the naming ceremony is done, we shall call you Gerald. Agreed? Agreed," Gail pointed out to the rookie.
"You can't do that," Duncan argued albeit feebly.
"Tough luck. I already did," Gail grinned. "You are not Jew, are you?"
"No," Duncan replied.
"Ah...good then," Gail cleared her throat. "So, Gerald. You know what a dive is?"
"Uh...yeah," Duncan a.k.a Gerald replied. "I am a regular swimmer."
"Good...good," Gail nodded her head while sceptically scanning the rookie's physique. He so did not look like a regular swimmer. "You are on the dive duty. Officer McNally will supervise, okay? Any questions?"
Duncan swallowed. "What dive duty?"
"Oh sorry," Gail snapped her fingers and made a show of forgetting that little detail. "Dumpster dive duty. The murder weapon is missing from the crime scene and you need to check every dumpster in the five-block radius for it. Simple enough."
"Seriously?" Duncan glared at Gail.
"Are you really questioning my authority, rookie," the heavy commanding lilt accompanied with Gail's tall stance made Duncan step back. He shook his head twice. "Shoo now," she made a jerky motion with her right hand, "oh and...do me a favour? Take a few selfies while you are in there. The website needs some new photos." She was having trouble keeping her grin in check as Duncan kept staring at her to see if she was serious or just joking around. She tilted her head when the rookie still didn't budge. As Gerald a.k.a Duncan scampered away in search of McNally she chuckled in delight. She also heard the derisive scoff from the pathologist. "What?" She barked.
Holly shook her head in disapproval as she stood up on her spot. "You do know that could be construed as religious bullying." Her tone was undeniably condemning. "You could lose your job if he goes to the HR with this," she eyed the blonde who was strangely relaxed.
Gail blinked. "And you could lose your job if you keep wearing that hideous jacket to work." She really hated that jacket.
Holly breathed in sharply. "I was in a hurry," she snapped through her painfully clenched teeth.
"Oh...so that makes it okay then," Gail sarcastically remarked. "It hurts to look at it."
Holly growled and fisted her fingers tightly. "How is it that you still have your job?" She seriously thought HR would toss out such rude, insensitive people.
Gail didn't reply immediately. She matched the brunette's stare for a few seconds before sighing. "Are you new here?" She asked. Someone who thought that Gail Peck would lose her job for something so trivial had to be unfamiliar with the hierarchy of the 'Peck Dynasty'. "Don't answer that. I don't give a shit," she shrugged and stepped outside of the kitchen when the dead body was being put in the body bag for transport. "How long will the autopsy take?" She changed the topic.
Holly glared at the blonde and breathed in deeply. The first ever case and she just had to work with this infuriating, egotistical detective. "You will know when the autopsy is done," she annoyingly replied and stomped out of the kitchen with her jacket and the lunchbox without looking back.
"Whoa," Gail mumbled. A nerd with an attitude. This should be fun! "Price," she yelled and within seconds the tiny brunette stood in front of her with Dov not far behind. "You two...dig into the family history, their financials, their bills, their mortgages, anything and everything. I want the details on my desk as soon as possible." Both the officers nodded and went on their way to carry out the orders. She leisurely swept her eyes around the house while making up scenarios in her mind. There was no sign of struggle which either meant it was a surprise attack or it was someone familiar. She saw Chris coming toward her. "What have you got?"
Chris clucked her tongue. "Your victim wasn't quite innocent." He showed her the twin packets of cocaine in a plastic evidence bag. "Could it be a spat with her dealer?" He put forth his theory.
Gail shrugged. "Who called it in?"
Chris referred his small notepad. "The neighbour...one Mrs. Sadusky. Said the smoke alarm had been going on for too long."
"Ah...the burnt pan," Gail deduced. "Any word on the husband?"
"Nope," Chris turned a page on his notepad. "Says here that he is a truck driver with some transport company."
"Where did you find these," Gail questioned pointing to the evidence bag in Chris' hand.
"The bedside drawer," Chris replied. "They weren't even trying to hide it."
Gail breathed in as her mind got to work. So, the drugs were apparently not the victim's secret. But if the husband is in on it why would he need that job? Unless it's just a cover. "Chris, interview as many neighbours as you can and take someone with you."
Chris nodded and pocketed his notepad. "Four or five doors down, both sides?" He looked at Gail for a nod of approval. "See you back at the station," he said and marched back to exit the crime scene.
Gail pulled off the gloves and dumped it in the forensics waste bin. She stood at the door and put on her aviators. She looked at the two uniformed officers stationed outside the door to guard the crime scene. "Give me a call in case of any activity," she instructed them and went to her car. With all the tasks having been delegated, the only thing she could do was wait. Well, wait and have something to eat.
The white board in front of her was quite empty. Mrs. Queen's lifeless picture was the highlight of the arrangement, taking the rightful place at the centre of the board. Her concentration broke when all the uniforms who worked in her team entered the bullpen.
"You will not believe this," Dov excitedly dumped a bunch of papers on Gail's desk and slumped in the chair.
"This case just got a hella interesting," Chloe beamed with a wide smile.
"I don't think I have anything of use to offer," Chris grumbled feeling like he had failed in some kind of competition.
"Okay...one by one," Gail capped off the blue marker and stood beside the white board, ready to make notes. "Diaz?"
"The most important thing, they are foster parents," Chris got directly to the point. "The neighbour who called 911...said they always had a kid or two at their home. And she also mentioned some redhead social worker who often visited our victim. Nothing more."
Gail was genuinely taken aback. "Foster parents?" She mumbled and noted it down on the board. And beside that she drew an arrow with a question mark. "Then where are the kids? Or the kid?" They hadn't found any trace of that in the house. She worried her bottom lip in between her teeth in silent contemplation. "Chris, bring that social worker in." Chris nodded and left the bullpen. She drew a circle beside the victim's picture and wrote down the initials S.W. in it for the social worker, marking the circle as 'suspect I'.
"May I," Dov said from his seat dying to share his knowledge and got a nod from Gail. He jumped up and picked up the black marker. "Meet Victoria 'vicky' Donovan. Chrissy and Daniel Donovan's daughter and Claude Queen's wife...well, now dead wife." He mumbled the last part.
"Upper middle class upbringing, never went to college, got married to Claude at the age of 19," Chloe continued. She pulled out a few papers from the bunch in front of her and handed it to Gail. "Those are the financials from the couple's early married life...for about four or five years. Claude worked as a truck driver with a transport company."
Gail skimmed over the document with a furrow. "That was his income?" It was surprising that they could actually survive and carry out their basic needs.
"Yup," Chloe nodded and handed over another bunch of paper to the detective. "Now take a look at this." Without waiting for Gail to go through everything, the officer added. "There are a few reports against her for solicitation in there. May be that's how they delved into drug dealing?"
"Whoa," Gail could see the drastic difference in the income. She checked the address and, in fact, the victim's previous home was in one of the areas well known for gang related activities. But how was this all possible? Drugs, of course. So they couldn't make their ends meet and started prostitution and then dealing drugs. But where and how did the foster system fit in all this? What did the foster kids have to do with this dealer couple? And why would the couple deliberately register themselves in the foster system, putting their whole rendezvous at risk?
Gail threw the papers on the desk and wrote those points on the white board. 'Suburban couple, foster parents, drug dealers' and beneath the victim's picture she wrote 'ex-hooker'. She stared at the board conjuring up as many scenarios in her head as possible. "So, they are poor for years and suddenly somehow become drug dealers. I understand that...it's too much money, hard to refuse. They relocate into a nice neighbourhood and pretend to be a decent couple. But why become foster parents?"
"May be they couldn't have their own," Chloe suggested, ever the optimist.
"It could be a fallback testimony," Dov pondered. "Maintaining a facade always requires living proofs and who better than your neighbours to testify in your favour in case something goes wrong."
Gail hummed. "Hmm...could be." She drew a big question mark on the white board. "Anything else strange?"
"Nah...nothing," Chloe shook her head. "A few off shore accounts in different names, phone bills, gas bills, electricity bills. And yes, the house isn't on mortgage. It's completely paid for and is registered in Victoria's name. In fact, all the off shore accounts are also in Victoria's name...I mean her aliases." She checked the documents one by one as she said.
"This Victoria seems like the dominant one of the couple," Gail mused.
"You think the husband did it," Dov said. "May be he felt emasculated, finally got tired of being ordered around and snapped."
Gail stayed silent for a minute. "Well, there is nothing in these papers. You two go ask around about the husband and if he has been missing for more than twelve hours...start a timeline about this couples' previous day."
Both Dov and Chloe took a few minutes to separate the important documents from the useless ones and after dumping those at their respective desks they left to go find one Claude Queen.
Gail decided to get some help. Her victim might have come under Detective Nash's radar at some point. There was no harm in trying and also she hadn't seen the older detective for a few days now. She snatched off her blazer from her chair and made way upstairs to the "Guns and Gangs". She just hoped she could avoid her annoying brother.
Traci was in the middle of sorting out her recent case files in order when there was a knock on her cabin door. "Come in."
Gail peeked in slightly. "May I please enter detective?"
Traci chuckled and stood up from her seat. "And what if I deny your entrance?"
"Eh," Gail shrugged. "I will still come in." She entered and closed the door behind her. She knew Traci would hug her and she didn't want anyone from the outside to witness her soft side. They hugged and she made a sound inside her throat pretending to be displeased when Traci affectionately kissed her on the top of her head. "I hate it when you do that." She petulantly grumbled.
Traci released the blonde and laughed. "I know. Why do you think I do it?" She pulled Gail with her and sat down on one of the visitor's chair with the blonde on the other. "So, what brings you by?"
Gail slumped in the chair. She liked that about Traci; always to the point. "Got a case," she folded her right leg over her left knee and fingered the cuff of her pant leg absently. "A drug dealing couple. Wanted to see if they ever crossed your path?"
Traci furrowed her eyebrows. "Anything peculiar about this case?"
Gail nodded. "They take in foster kids...on a regular basis I think," she uncertainly provided the older detective. "Not sure about the last part, though."
Traci hummed and nodded her head. She got up from the chair and went to her side of the desk to open the bottom most left draw. From there she took out a file and handed it to Gail. "That is a case I read up on some time back...it's not from here." She returned to sit in her previous spot. "You know last year when I went to this conference in Minnesota we were given that file," she pointed to the file in Gail's hand. "There are two types of dealers; one who deals directly and one who hires a mule." Gail's eyes left the file and caught Traci's. "Dealing directly is dangerous, risky and you are almost screwed if caught because there is no one you can blame it on. Hiring a mule, on the other hand, is less risky. You can always throw the mule under the bus and escape unscathed. But it is also expensive and it takes away good chunk of the profits." Gail's eyes started hardening in understanding. "It is less expensive and very less risky when your mule is someone who can never be on the Police's radar...such as, kids."
"Kids," Gail muttered along with Traci. Now the foster angle fit in the case perfectly. "You think this couple was using the foster kids as drug mules?" She tried to swallow her anger.
"Possibly," Traci agreed. "It is possible that they really wanted their own kids and family but you and me, we don't have the luxury to think of this situation like that. We cannot think best of the people involved and risk losing the sight of a clue staring us in the face." She sighed and shook her head. Sometimes, she wondered, if she had always been such a pessimist or the job had made her so.
Gail wholeheartedly agreed with Traci's thoughts. They really couldn't give the benefit of doubt to people. It was the basic requirement of being good at their job. As long as they looked at everything suspiciously, they were safe. The moment they let their humanity seep into their investigations, they were basically ignoring the fact that people were capable of being the worst kind of monsters they wanted to be. She shut the file and threw it on the table before pressing the heel of her palms into her heavy eyes. "Kids don't deserve that," she mumbled dejectedly.
Traci bent forward and squeezed at Gail's knee. "I know," she offered the useless assurance like always. When would it all end was too daunting a question they faced on a daily basis. If being ignorant to things meant survival for them, then so be it. She pushed back into her chair. "Did you run into Steve?" She changed the topic.
Gail rested both her elbows on her knees and groaned, "no."
Traci grinned at the blonde. "He is still trying to steal you away?"
"When does he ever stop," Gail sighed heavily. "Oh my god, Trace, I have rejected him a million times, literally!" She threw both her hands in the air displaying her exasperation.
Traci laughed softly. "You can't really blame him, Gail." She waited for the blonde to look at her. "He is still hung up on the idea of working with you. It's like he has this whole badass comic thing going on in his mind where you and him fight the crime side by side." Traci wove her fingers through Gail's and squeezed. "You really did break his heart when you chose Homicide over Guns & Gangs."
Gail squeezed back and rolled her chair a little forward. She closed her eyes and slumped forward into Traci for even a minimal amount of comfort. "It's hard for me to trust him after what happened the last time," she rasped out into Traci's shoulder. Her chest constricted in a familiar pain and she pulled in the older detective.
Traci drew comforting circles on Gail's back and gave the blonde a moment of respite. "I know, honey. I know," she whispered against Gail's white blonde hair.
A few minutes went by and they talked casually about anything and everything, conveniently avoiding anything that could make their already tough jobs a lot tougher. Gail's cell phone buzzed with the message from Chris. The social worker was comfortably seated in the interrogation room. "You want to nail a social worker cum drug mule pimp?" Gail offered Traci the chance to extract information from the suspect. There was a huge possibility that there were other similar couples out there who operated their drug business through foster system.
"You want to nab the customers, you nab the pimp," Traci smirked determinedly and followed Gail out of her cabin.
So? Thoughts?
Positive or Negative?
Apologies for the mistakes, sincerely!
Oh, and if I do decide to continue this then the updates will be very, very slow and kind of random.
Making up cases and then coming up with the whole procedure after that takes a lot of effort.
Also, my real life kind of needs my dire attention these days or else my future will be hanged!
Thank you for reading.
And please do let me know how it was. It is encouraging and heartwarming.
Ciao.
Until next time.