Chapter Ten – The Apartment

Outside the Coroner's Office, later that morning.

Derek parked his car in his usual spot outside the Coroner's office. It wasn't, strictly speaking, a designated space but he had an arrangement with the security people who patrolled the car park. The Coroner's office shared a building with several other government departments and the car park was always full. For a couple of prime Leafs' tickets a year, Derek didn't get his car towed. It was one of the bonuses of still having friends in the hockey game. He avoided telling Casey this, however, knowing she probably wouldn't approve. But, this morning, they both appreciated the close proximity to the office entrance. Quebec may be having lovely Autumnal weather, in Toronto it was sleeting.

As he switched the engine off, Derek glanced across at Casey. He could tell she had slept well again, not only had she bothered with make up this morning, but her eyes were bright and alert. But she was still pale, and on closer inspection the bright eyes were actually brimming with extra tears that threatened to spill over. There were two possible outcomes from this identification procedure: Casey would discover that the unknown body inside the building was not Sophie, and that they were back to square one. Or, Casey's friend had not died in the fiery crash five years ago, but had instead, died a few days ago, just miles from Casey's home.

Neither was an attractive prospect.

"How are you doing?" Derek squeezed her hand. Casey gave a weak smile.

"As well as can be expected." She told him honestly, not bothering to claim anything else. "I'm apprehensive about this, but I slept well again last night. I guess you can't take credit for my sleeping patterns." She joked. Derek coughed awkwardly and looked away.

"What?" Casey asked in amusement.

"Technically, I might have slept in your bed again last night." He admitted. "I fell asleep and woke up at first light this morning."

Casey chuckled. "Really?"

"Yeah." He ran his hand through his hair. "Dad woke me."

"Going to the bathroom again?"

"Erm…no. He tapped me on the shoulder." Derek announced, opened the car door and climbed out.

Inside the car, his words registered in Casey's brain. She opened her own door and climbed out quickly.

"What?!" She exclaimed, joining him in front of the car. "Please tell me you're joking."

"Relax. It was just Dad, not Nora, and he was fine with it." Derek grinned at her. "Apparently it wasn't the first time we got caught…?" He gave her a pointed look.

Casey frowned. "That was nothing and it was years ago." She protested.

"Yeah, well, last night was nothing too, so don't panic." Derek commented as he walked towards the building. Casey remained where she was.

"Nothing?" She said softly. Derek walked back towards her.

"I meant as far as Dad's concerned, silly. After all, you slept through the whole cuddling bit." Their faces were close now. "By the way, you didn't snore." They stared at each other. Closing the gap would have been so easy.

It wasn't happening.

Derek zapped the car with its remote, offered Casey his hand, and turned towards the building.

"Do you think George will tell Mom?" Casey asked as they walked. Derek shook his head.

"Definitely not."

"You're sure?"

Derek held the door of the building open for her. "Positive. It's a father-son thing."

Casey gave him a look as she passed him. "Really?"

Derek laughed. "No. He won't tell her, because he just wants an easy life."

They were the first to arrive, but Marie was expecting them. In fact, she had cleared her desk and made sure she was available to deal with the identification, despite the fact she might normally have handed the job over to someone else in her department. Marie had worked with Derek for many years, and he had shared more information about his family with her than he had with many of his colleagues. He'd just never shown her any pictures or brought any of them to meet her. Marie was curious, and of all the people she was curious about, Casey topped the list.

Derek buzzed at the reception desk, identified himself and signed them both in. It was only seconds before Marie appeared. Today she was in her office clothes rather than scrubs, reflecting the fact only half of her job involved touching the dead. The rest was paperwork and telephone calls. Derek wondered if he had ever seen her in civilian clothes before and came to the conclusion he hadn't. Jazz had been right, though Derek hadn't noticed before, Marie was attractive – not his type, but attractive all the same. She stepped forward to greet them.

"Derek." She nodded once and turned immediately to Casey. "And you must be Casey. I've heard a lot about you over the years. It's good to see you looking so well!"

Casey smiled and shook the offered hand. "It's Marie, isn't it? Sorry, Derek didn't tell me your surname, but he's told me how helpful you've been…I'm really pleased to meet you."

"That's because he can never remember my surname, honey." Marie told her. "So he fudges it." she smiled gently. "I'm really sorry we had to meet under these circumstances."

Casey nodded. "Thank you. It's all a bit of a blur at the moment. I'm still reeling from the idea that someone died with a photograph of me on their body. The fact that it might be a friend of mine who I've already grieved for in the past…it just doesn't compute."

Marie nodded. "Come through into my office, I'll get you a coffee and we can talk about how this is going to go." She looked over at Derek. "Jazz is on his way…with Mr Lewis?" He nodded.

"Apparently - he's having trouble parking."

"I'm not surprised. It's been murder around here for days." Marie stated, without irony.

Soon they were in a comfortable office, seated on a large corner sofa. Casey appreciated that somewhere in the building there was probably another, more official, room where normal visitors to the department were taken prior to making an identification, but, even after just a brief conversation with Marie, she could tell that those visitors were also treated as if they were very important at one of the hardest times of their life.

"I remember the first time I met Derek." Marie stated with a smile. "He was so green we gave him a cardboard sick bowl as soon as he walked through the door. Casey smiled.

"Just the one?"

Derek looked offended. "I didn't use it!" he protested. Marie gave him a look. "Well, not on that occasion at least."

Marie relented. "He's actually not bad. He's got a stronger stomach than most, but I guess you know that."

Casey looked surprised. "Uh…no! This is the guy who was sick before every major hockey game of his career."

Derek pulled a face. "Bodily fluids I can handle…most of the time. It's the emotional stuff that turns my stomach." He sipped his coffee. "Where the hell is Jazz? I'm getting ganged up on here." The two women chuckled.

As if in answer to Derek's prayers, the phone rang telling Marie that Jazz and Stuart had arrived. She left to meet them.

Derek nudged Casey with his shoulder. "You okay?"

"I've been better." She admitted. "Although we both know I've been a lot worse too." She paused. "Marie seems nice."

He nodded. "Yeah. Strange job choice though."

Casey shrugged. "I considered it once." She told him. "Years ago. The idea of listening to the dead speak appealed." She smiled softly at his face. "It was in reaction to a newspaper article I read when I was thirteen. There was this little girl who had been found dead and the police had little to go on. The article followed the role of the coroner in the investigation."

"Did they get the guy?"

Casey nodded. "He lasted five minutes in prison. Then the coroner had to perform the autopsy on him."

Derek shrugged. "Nature has its own justice. Not that I necessarily agree with it." He paused. "What the hell was Nora doing letting you read stuff like that?"

Casey leaned back on the couch. "She was in the middle of the divorce at the time. But I used to read anything and everything. My whole life was reading and dancing back then. My escape from the crap of Mom and Dad fighting. And of course, dancing was what killed the desire to be a coroner." She grinned. "That and the smell."

The door opened, and Marie stuck her head around the door. "Shall we do this?"

It was all very tactful, Casey thought. A small anteroom lined with fabric in a muted colour to soften the hard edges and the bright light of the otherwise utilitarian building. Bright lights were still necessary to ensure the identification was an accurate one. But nothing could alleviate the chill of just walking into the room. Stuart was suffering, Casey could tell. She stepped forward and took his hand and they approached the body together.

Then it took just a few minutes. The cloth was removed from the victim's face, Casey and Stuart gazed at her features for a moment. Then they looked at each other before Casey turned to Derek. "It's Sophie." She stated.

"You're sure?" he asked. "I mean, you weren't sure about the photograph…"

It was Stuart who answered. "The photograph was of her face. Now we are looking at her face and her body. It's Sophie." He turned to Marie. "She was pregnant when we last saw her…?"

Marie nodded. "She's given birth at some point. The estimate is in line with approximately four to five years ago."

"And the baby…?"

Marie shrugged. "I can't tell anything about he or she. I can't even tell if she carried the baby to term. But now you've identified her, Derek and Jazz can try and track down her medical records. Though clearly, they won't be listed under her real name." Jazz nodded.

"We can look at her age, appearance, weight, blood type etc. If we can get the possibilities down to a small enough number, then maybe we can look at DNA. I don't suppose she had an unusual blood group?"

Marie opened the file she was holding. "AB-. That's the rarest. You might have some luck tracing her through that alone. A rhesus negative mother would be flagged during pregnancy."

Derek watched Casey carefully as Marie spoke, stepping close to her and putting an arm around her waist. "You okay?" He asked, noting how pale she was.

Marie interrupted her conversation with Jazz. "Oh, please…let's go back to my office. It's cold down here. Do you want us to step out of the room first so that you can say goodbye?"

Stuart and Casey glanced at each other again. They nodded and, reluctantly, Derek followed Jazz and Marie from the room.

Casey stepped towards the body of her friend. "I suppose I should be grateful." She told Stuart. "I missed out on the chance to say goodbye five years ago."

Stuart nodded. "So did I. They wouldn't let anyone view the body…for obvious reasons."

Casey sighed. "I wonder where her baby is." She murmured. "Do you think somewhere out there there's a child waiting for its mother to return? I can't imagine abandoning my child! Surely no mother is willingly separated from her child?"

"I can't imagine Sophie abandoning her child either. She was so looking forward to the baby coming. You guys used to spend hours making plans. Every time I walked into your dressing room, she had bought something new for the baby."

"Really?" Casey was interested. "I…don't remember any of that. I don't remember her pregnancy at all." She smiled wistfully. "She'd have made a good mother though."

Stuart put his arm around her shoulder. "Come on, Case. Let's go get a coffee, sign whatever paperwork is necessary and then see what happens next."

"Where's Casey?" Derek asked as Stuart entered the room, alone.

"Ladies' room. I think she wanted to freshen up."

Jazz sighed. "I'm not surprised. There's probably a few tears to be shed as well."

Derek was halfway out of the door when Marie stopped him. "It's called 'the ladies' room' for a reason, Derek. Let me go." Once again, Derek reluctantly stepped back and let Marie take over.

Stuart smiled reassuringly at him. "She's ok, honestly. There weren't any tears in the room. I guess we'd already lost Sophie five years ago. I think the only thing that upsets Casey is that she doesn't know what happened to Sophie's child."

Derek frowned. "Sophie's child?"

Stuart nodded. "She wants to know where Sophie's child is. She doesn't believe Sophie could abandon the baby. She thinks somewhere out there is a child calling for its mother, and there is no way that any mother would abandon her child willingly."

Derek swallowed hard. "Jazz. Casey has a point. We can't afford to believe this stops with Sophie's death. Our priority has to be finding Sophie's baby."

His partner nodded. "I'll speak to the boss." He exchanged a look with Derek. "You and I can deal with it personally."

"All okay?" Derek asked as he pulled out of the car park. Casey was quiet, distracted.

"Yes." She turned and smiled at him. "I'm fine, honestly. A bit tired, but glad this part is over." She looked at the scenery as they drove. "Where are we going now?" She asked in confusion.

Derek smiled. "Well, I'm going back to work and you're going home, however, we need to make a stop first."

"Oh?" Casey sounded curious.

"You'll see."

He drove them to a spot about two miles from their parents' house. It was an area of Toronto Casey knew fairly well, although she hadn't spent much time there. In her childhood days it had been a warehouse district, full of tall, Victorian constructions built to house trade goods on their way into or out of Canada more than a hundred years ago. She had little cause to visit the area as a child, the change in commerce had brought low income and high crime. But, as with many Western cities in recent decades, areas of deprivation turned out to be close to the centre of the city and rarely stayed depressed for long. Like the east end of London, or the clothing district of New York, large, well-built but dilapidated buildings had been renovated, transformed into attractive, commodious residences.

It was to one such development Derek drove now, parking in the purpose-built garage on the ground floor. Soon they were exiting the car and the garage and making their way through a wrought iron gate, keypad-controlled. It led to a large atrium with a pair of decent sized elevators.

"Where are we?" Casey hissed as they rode to the ninth floor.

"You'll see." Derek told her, propelling them both onward and upward.

At the ninth floor, there was a small landing with two doors. Beside one of the doors, sitting on the floor, was a very bored looking woman.

"I'm sorry." Derek apologised. "We had to view an autopsy."

Casey blinked at his bluntness, but the reaction from the woman indicated he'd said the right thing.

"Oh…no problem at all Sergeant Venturi." She simpered.

Casey bit her lip to stop herself giggling. She'd always struggled with Derek's job titles. They sounded so…respectable.

The woman stood up and fished in her handbag for something. It turned out to be a key, which she used to open the door beside which she had been resting.

"We've furnished it as requested." The young woman had switched into salesperson mode, though by now even Casey had realised the deal had been done. "New beds, living room suite, white goods…, extra-large fridge and TV." Casey had a coughing fit.

"Predictable!" She hissed. Derek smirked at her.

"Of course!" He beamed.

"You have three months to identify any issues with the build quality. We assume there will be some and book a follow up visit at the three, or four, month mark. If you can, I would avoid calling the builders in any sooner. They get antsy."

Derek smiled. "No problem".

"So, all I need is some identification from Miss MacDonald…and a couple of signatures from you both. Then I can give you the keys and I'll leave it to you."

It was quite a while after the realtor had left that Casey realised someone had pulled the wool over her eyes.

"Why did I have to sign the lease?" She asked Derek who was playing with technology.

He was fiddling with the TV and answered distractedly. "What lease?"

"The lease on the apartment, Derek."

Derek put the remote down. "I'm not leasing the apartment. I told you, I bought it. Surely you read the small print, madam lawyer?"

"Ok…why am I signing purchase paperwork on your apartment?"

"It's not my apartment, it's our apartment. Don't worry, I'll expect you to pay towards it."

Casey narrowed her eyes. "Ahhhh! Now I get it. You can't afford it on your own."

Derek pretended to be shot in the heart. "Gee… you got me!" He lied. Casey looked surprised. She always could spot a Derek lie at a hundred paces.

"Seriously? That's not your game?"

Derek shrugged. "I'm trying to give you a fresh start, remember?" He told her. "You can pay towards it if you like. But," he gave a deep sigh. "Being realistic, I'm a cop. I just wanted to give you security in case anything should happen to me. This way if I die no one can evict you, the apartment will be yours."

Casey pulled a face. "Don't." She stated in a small voice. "I don't want…"

"Good news! Neither do I. No one is more invested in my survival than me, Case."

She smiled weakly at him. "Moot point actually."

Derek put down the remote and crossed the room. "I'm trusting us to be grown up about this whole process. I'm serious about the contract thing. I don't want you to have to worry if something happens to me. But, if we fall out, we have to do so in such a way that no one ends up on the street unnecessarily and at short notice. Deal?"

"That sounds remarkably civilised for you and me, Derek." Casey commented.

He chuckled and scratched his head. "Yeah, it does, doesn't it? Come on. I'll give you the guided tour."

When they had been at college, Derek and Casey had shared student accommodation for a while; a cold, damp building where the slugs were as happy having a party in the living room at night as the students. As graduates, there had been another brief time where they had shared a rental, slightly warmer, better décor but compact and bijoux.

This apartment was neither.

It was largely open plan with a double height main room and a mezzanine level containing two bedrooms and two large en-suites. A small washroom downstairs was just off the main living space.

The décor and feel was New York loft, but what could have felt overly masculine and full of hard lines had been softened by strategic plastered walls amongst the brickwork, a large functional kitchen and floor to ceiling windows along one side of the apartment. The view reached over the city and Casey could tell it would be spectacular at night.

"I had the white goods and fridge sectioned off from the kitchen." Derek told her. "Nothing worse than the spin cycle going during a hockey game."

Casey snorted.

"Is that a dig at me, Venturi?" She asked, recalling a standing argument from their student days that Casey always seemed to be doing her washing whenever Derek had the use of the TV. He smirked.

"Why risk it?" He commented, pointing at the large TV. "It has surround sound and you can play music throughout the apartment by voice command."

"Geek." Casey laughed.

"Just you wait until you see the size of the bath in your en-suite." Derek nodded as he spoke. "Let's see if you start complaining then."

He grabbed her hand and dragged her to the staircase and, for the first time, it never occurred to either of them that Casey wouldn't be able to run up the stairs. She managed them easily, though neither of them noticed.

"Your room." Derek announced, throwing open the door onto a bright space. The large room was light because it was painted a chalky white tone and had a large floor-to-ceiling window at one end. There was modern, tasteful furniture in a golden oak, a King-sized bed – bare but commodious - and another television placed opposite the bed. The en-suite tiled in large, white porcelain, was only half the size of the bedroom and contained not only a double shower, but also a large bath tub.

"Wow! It's amazing! And big…Can we have a cleaner?"

Derek laughed. "Sure. Is everything up to Casey Code?"

Casey nodded. "It's amazing, Derek. Show me your room. I assume it's bigger." Derek led the way to the next door bedroom.

"Not really. Slightly smaller, actually. I knew you'd want the bath."

"But…"

"Case. My room is fine…great, even. Same fantastic view, same size bed."

Casey walked around his room carefully, paying attention to all the details, opening drawers. Then she paused at the window.

"Thank you." She said quietly. "I could never have done this on my own."

Derek came and stood behind her. "You could, but it might have taken a couple of years. This way, we speed things up a bit."

"And you're sure I won't cramp your style?" Casey turned to look at him.

"And what style is that?" He asked, fixed his gaze on her. Casey blinked and looked down at her feet.

"You have your own place for the first time ever. It's the kind of place any woman would be more than happy to spend the night in - and you bring your step-sister to live in it with you."

"I've brought my best friend to live in it with me. Is she happy to spend the night in it?" Derek asked, flicking her hair from the corner of her eyes.

"Yes." Casey murmured, lost somewhere in the past.

"Good. Coz, the chances are you are going to be spending more time in this apartment than I am. You know what my hours are like."

"I just don't want to…"

"You won't." He reassured her. "You never could."

"I used to."

Derek smiled. "Usually for very good reasons."

Casey glanced up with a smile. "Did I ever do real damage to your sex life?"

"It balances out."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Casey protested as Derek walked towards the door. He turned and grinned.

"Let me know when you work it out."

After they visited the apartment, Derek had planned to drop Casey back at the family home. Casey, however, had other ideas.

"It would really help if I could go into the office." Casey told him. "It's been a while since I've seen Bea and I need to give her my latest notes on her case." She nodded towards the bag in the back of the car.

"How will you get home?" Derek started the car engine and began to pull out of the garage.

Casey tilted her head to one side, thoughtfully. "You know, I think someone invented something called a taxi…" She suggested. Derek pulled a face at her.

"Alright, alright. Cut the crap. I only asked." He told her. "You do realise how far you've come since last week don't you, oh timid one?!" She grinned.

"With or without the side trip to Quebec?" Casey teased.

"You know what I mean."

Casey smiled. "I do." She put her hand on his. "Thank you. As usual, I am where I am because of you."

Derek paused at a Stop sign. "And that's a good thing because…?"

"…the alternative was rather depressing. Thanks to you I have a future. Or at least an apartment. It's making me fell rather giddy."

"Do we need to take your blood pressure again?" Derek asked facetiously. They both chuckled. "OK. Dad's chambers it is then."

"What do we have?" Derek asked, flinging himself into his chair. The office he shared with Jazz was large, but with the addition of Jazz, their boss and half of the senior team, it was beginning to feel cosy.

"Sophie Gardine. Dancer. At the time of her death, this week, she was aged 28. However, she was also pronounced dead five years ago at the scene of a serious car crash."

"It's definitely her, this time?" One of the other officers asked. Derek nodded.

"Verified visual ID, plus when we ran the dentals against the victim they match." He shuffled his papers. "Of course, they matched the DB five years ago as well."

"No visual then?"

"Nah. She was toast." One of Derek's more junior colleagues commented, distastefully.

Jazz kicked the chair out from under him. "You disrespect the victim again like that and you'll be toast too." He told the guy crawling around on the floor trying to get up.

Derek nodded at his partner. "When Sophie was found, she had a photograph on her body, tucked inside her underwear. A photograph of a group of people at a party. We think it's connected."

"Sorry, D. Is it really that important?" Coming from one of Derek's respected colleagues, it was, after all a valid question.

Jazz nodded. "Casey's in the picture."

There was a sudden murmur which rolled around the room.

"Oh crap." The same guy commented. "Sorry D. I didn't know."

"It's fine." Derek lied. He didn't have a problem with his colleague. He did still have a problem with Casey crossing the line into his work life. "What I need, what we need, is to track Sophie's movements over the past five years. It's important," He held his hand up to forestall his colleagues. "It's important because quite apart from Sophie's death, it appears five years ago she was pregnant. The coroner says she gave birth. Not only do we have a murder to solve, but we also need to find that child and make sure they are safe. I cannot emphasis enough just how important this is."

"Agreed." Derek's boss backed him up. "What do we have go on to find him or her?"

Jazz stood up and moved to a whiteboard with a pen. "Sophie is a rare blood group. AB-. Not only is her blood group likely to get flagged up when she gives birth because she's rhesus negative, but AB is rare too. I need you guys to get onto the hospitals, looking at records for births in this area from approximately five years ago. Cross check blood groups. If she gave birth in the Toronto area, she'll be listed."

"And if not?"

"If you get to the point when you are down to your last handful of medical institutions, start opening the list to the surrounding areas. We think she was six months' pregnant five years ago. Somewhere she gave birth."

Bea was really pleased to see Casey and whisked her off into her little office on the second floor.

"Great choice of outfit, Case! I approve. Now, I want to know everything." She insisted, shutting the office door behind them. "Did you share a bed? Did he kiss you? Did you roll out the lingerie?"

Casey looked at her friend as though she had sprung two heads. "Uh…no."

Bea looked disappointed. Casey took pity on her. "But I wore the swimsuit." She informed her friend. "Derek's not massively impressed with your choice but…"

Bea's expression changed to an offended look. "Derek didn't like it?" She asked in confusion. "Seriously? Is the guy even human?"

Casey shook her head. "I've asked myself that very question a number of times over the years, but I doubt it's that. The swimsuit left me a little exposed."

"Exposed?"

"It wasn't only Derek and I in the pool." Casey explained. Bea grinned

"He felt like he had competition?" She suggested, hopefully.

"No, Bea. I don't like showing my scars in public." Casey explained with a strained look.

Bea sat down heavily in her chair. "Oh, god, Casey. I'm so sorry."

Casey smiled. "It's okay. You meant well. And I wore the thing. It's probably going in the bin, but I wore it." She laughed. "It's not me you need to provide an explanation to, however. It's Derek. He's a little protective."

Bea frowned. "That's good, I suppose."

"Seriously, if you're trying to make me look attractive for Derek," Casey laughed at her friend. "the ship left port a long time ago on that one, sweetie. But I appreciate the effort. What we really need to be talking about is you…and Jazz."

"I'm more of a rock chick."

"Ha ha." Casey told her with a snort. "We both know what I mean."

Bea feigned an innocent look. "Jason and I would be a complete disaster. We hate each other."

Casey snorted. "Really? If you really hate someone you totally ignore them. You walk away from confrontation and you never think about them. I'm fairly sure you two each spend hours working out what you will argue about the next time you meet. You could just be polite when you see him, but somehow you can't bring yourself to be like that."

"That's not true." Bea protested.

"There's a saying." Casey said, opening her files and getting ready to work. "Don't kid a kidder."

Constable Strong put down the phone on her desk and stared at her notes, thoughtfully. She flicked through the pile of papers and regarded the "Post IT" notes attached to each one. Finally, she looked at the map. It showed the area near to where Sophie's body had been found (the second time). It also showed the area where they were fairly sure the fight that led to her death had begun. Agatha Strong had never expected to find the second crime scene, she was just naturally a pessimist, and it was one of those situations where assuming the worst had paid off. Now, however, Sergeant Venturi was asking her to work the same magic again, pulling a bunny out of the hat when she didn't know what the hat looked like and she was fairly sure all the bunnies were out to lunch.

Agatha tried to put herself into the victim's shoes for the fiftieth time. You have a fight…here…you stagger away along this path, you stumble into an alleyway. You are found dead…here. (Two seemingly unrelated areas of Toronto. However, they were staggering distance from each other.) You don't ask for help or assistance for more than a mile and a half, even though you pass two police stations and various other points of refuge.

Agatha had checked. The victim had passed more than forty businesses on the way to her final destination and she hadn't asked for help in any of them. Where had she been aiming for? Derek had suggested looking for places of refuge, but he hadn't been specific. Agatha understood there was a reason for that. What one person considered a refuge was another person's idea of hell.

Maybe it was a coincidence that Agatha's brain and eyes co-ordinated for once. A certain point on the map suddenly because interesting, because at that moment, going through Agatha's mind was the phrase "idea of hell". As soon as Agatha saw it, however, she knew it was the right place.