So sorry for the months and months and months of not updating. I was in lockdown and working from home and somehow lost the will to write. Lots of other stuff happening too but hopefully I'm back on track now. Lockdown has ended and life is returning to some sort of normality.

Apologies to readers who left reviews or comments on this fic who I didn't respond to — I sort of lost track of that too. But I so appreciate all your feedback. So thank you!

Hope you enjoy this update. It is set in the first wave of the pandemic before vaccines and the whole notion of living with COVID.

I'll update Breaking Through next.

At the precise moment Susan dropped the mop and bucket, the elevator dinged and Frankie emerged. Gail scrambled to Susan's side, concerned the distressed woman might go the way of the cleaning implements and subside to the floor.

Frankie raised an eyebrow, managing to look both disdainful and mildly entertained. Other people's misfortunes were an endless source of amusement to her. 'Toronto's finest,' she said to Holly, with a nod toward Gail.

Holly's mouth tightened. 'Where's your mask, detective?' she asked.

'My bad,' Frankie pulled out a crumpled disposable mask from her coat pocket. She made a great show of looping the elastic ends around her ears before turning her attention back to Gail and Susan. 'Need some help, Peck,' she drawled, making no move to assist as Gail scooped up various cleaning products and shoved them back into the bucket.

Could she shoot Frankie and get away with it, Gail wondered. The body count was adding up. First Chloe and Andy and now Frankie. This is why she should never have friends. Sooner rather than later they got on her nerves. Not that Frankie was exactly a friend.

They were work colleagues who way back had had an ill judged one night stand. The sex itself was better than average but Frankie was too brittle for a sober Gail to return for more. As for friendship, well Frankie treated her with the same derision with which she did everyone at 15. Not that that bothered Gail. It wasn't like she was looking for another friend. The ones she had were annoying enough.

Frankie liked to be thought of as a lone wolf. A loner yes but whether that was by design or ill temperament was perhaps the real question. Since arriving at 15, she hadn't bonded with any of her colleagues; in fact had actively avoided fostering any close connections, dismissing Cleo's overtures so sourly that even Gail felt bad for her perky colleague and found herself agreeing to go drinking with Chloe and Andy, making Frankie's lip curl even more disdainfully.

Still, if drinks were on at the Penny or one of the gang from 15 threw a party, Frankie was always there. Part of the group but kind of removed, lobbing caustic barbs and becoming increasingly surly the more she drank. It was a miracle she was still invited anywhere. Sometimes Gail wondered if her friends didn't find Frankie's obnoxiousness remarkable because her own behaviour had softened them up.

'Sorry. I'm not myself,' Susan said to Gail, her mouth turned down ruefully. 'It's been so hard. First Paul, then Ray.' She trailed off, her voice tremulous, eyes averted. She reached to take the bucket from Gail and then suddenly her head snapped up. 'You're wrong about Sam,' she said with conviction.

'That a hunch?' Frankie said.

Susan flushed. She was embarrassed now. Taking the proffered mop from Gail, she said brightly—too brightly—'well I must be going'. It was as though they were acquaintances who had met while strolling in the park and now she was taking her leave.

'One last thing,' Gail put her hand on the lift door to stop it from closing. 'Do you remember the name of the spinal clinic in Switzerland?'

'Klinik Overskrida. It was all Ray talked about for months. I teased him that it looked like a spa retreat,' Susan laughed and almost immediately looked guilty . 'Then COVID hit and the trip was cancelled.'

'How did Ray take that?' Holly asked.

'Hard,' Susan sighed.

'So did he pay for the operation upfront?' Gail asked. It would explain the missing money, though surely it wasn't standard practice. Anytime she'd been in hospital she was billed on discharge not before but perhaps they did things differently in fancy Swiss clinics.

'I don't know,' Susan shrugged. 'He never said.'

'But he was booked to go?'

'Well, yes of course.' Susan started to pull at her the mask which had slipped down her nose.

'So plane flights. Hotels.'

'Yes, yes.'

'But actually not hotels because he would have stayed at the clinic.'

'That's right,' Susan agreed.

'Okay thanks. And I'm sorry to have so many questions but we want to find out who killed Ray and Paul.'

'Of course,' Susan used her free hand to push the button for the ground floor. 'But it's not Sam.'

Well, that had taken an unexpected turn. Holly had her head tilted to one side and as the lift doors shut she caught Gail's eye, raising an eyebrow above her mask.

'Insistent,' Frankie said. 'You don't think Susan killed her brother and then turned up to scrub away the evidence.'

'It's unlikely but—' Gail broke off.

'But what?'

'Don't you think she got a bit weird when I asked her if Ray had booked his trip.'

'I guess,' Frankie said. 'Maybe she honestly doesn't know all the details.'

'And why is she so adamant Sam didn't murder Ray?'

'Didn't Sam say he didn't have much to do with Ray?' Holly asked. Gail nodded. 'And Susan insists the two men were best friends. It doesn't add up.' Holly continued. She had started to peel away the police tape crisscrossing the apartment door.

'Maybe Sam and Ray didn't patch things up after their falling out. Maybe Susan's wrong about that,' Gail said.

'Still doesn't explain why she's going into bat for Sam.'

'Loyalty to her kid brother? To Sam? Your sibling's best friend can become like family,' Gail mused, thinking of Clark, the friend Steve had made in kindergarten. Clark was something of a permanent fixture in their house until Elaine caught he and Steve smoking weed in the gazebo at the back of the garden when they were fourteen. After that Steve was moved to a different school and Clark was banned from coming over. Gail had grieved his loss, perhaps more than Steve. He had been much kinder to her than her real brother.

'Maybe she and Sam are in cahoots,' Holly suggested.

'Well, look at you Dr Stewart, a regular Nancy Drew,' Frankie sniggered.

Surely she could shoot Frankie now, Gail thought. She narrowed her eyes at the detective but could have sworn Holly shook her head, the movement so subtle it was possible she imagined it. Gail settled for an eye roll which made Frankie snigger even harder.

'Keep that up Anderson and I won't share what we learnt from Susan,' Gail said.

'Hindering an investigation. You looking for a disciplinary charge.' Frankie, assuming this was banter, responded in kind.

It was, after all, how she and Gail generally communicated. Ostensibly in good humour but with that edge of antagonism whose roots were easy enough to trace—for Gail because she hated herself for falling for Frankie's schtick, if only that one time, while Frankie resented Gail for just that, unused to someone finding her charms repugnant, even in hindsight. At the time, Gail had seemed happy enough to take Frankie home, a conclusion to the evening Frankie had always thought inevitable but which Gail, by the next morning, began to regret.

So as a consequence they found it almost impossible to have a conversation without one or the other saying something provocative. Now, though, Gail didn't bite. Then as she often did, Frankie took it too far. 'Disciplinary action. Your mother would be super impressed, especially now the golden—'

'Ah ha,' Holly said loudly as the door to the apartment swung open. She had a bunch of keys in her hand and had been trying different ones in the lock. Now she held a key aloft. 'Always the last one. Maybe that's a lesson to start with the last first. Or leave the first to last. I wonder if anyone's ever done a study of the odds.'

'Probability of chance,' Gail said.

'Exactly.'

Gail was sure Holly was smiling beneath her mask.

'Huh?' Frankie looked confused.

'We did those experiments in like grade 3. Don't tell you were already a truant by then.'

'I was never—' Frankie started.

'Suit up,' Holly said, trusting a plastic wrapped tyvek suit and booties in Frankie's direction with such speed that Frankie stumbled backwards as she clutched at the plastic bag. Holly had practically frisbee-ed it. For an instant Gail thought Holly had told Frankie to shut up.

'We don't want to contaminate evidence,' Holly continued as she retrieved two more suits from her backpack, taking much greater care as she handed one to Gail.

Frankie was unimpressed. 'So what did Susan say?' It came out almost like a whine.

If it had been up to Gail, she would have made Frankie sweat a little longer but Holly was more obliging. Despite being annoyed with Frankie, Gail found herself adding bits of information until eventually the senior detective was bought up to speed.

'See that wasn't too hard, was it.' Frankie sounded triumphant.

'Don't push it,' Gail said as she zipped up her suit.

'So if Ray stole the money for his back operation then Sam definitely had a motive to kill him.'

Holly nodded. By now the three women were standing in the little hallway that led to the rest of the apartment.

'Bedroom?' Gail asked.

'You don't waste your time, Peck,' Frankie smirked, 'I would have at least bought the good doctor dinner first. Though if memory serves, you dispensed with such niceties when we hooked up.'

Gail regarded Frankie as though the detective's presence was causing her psychical pain. Surely, she could just about plead justifiable homicide.

'Let's examine the living room first,' Holly's tone was brisk. 'What were you saying earlier about that sexual harassment course you attended, Detective Anderson?' She didn't wait for a reply but moved further down the corridor to the living area.

'Sassy. I like her,' Frankie said as she and Gail followed after Holly.

'Anderson just—'

'What?'

'Enough.'

'Enough of what?'

'Of this,' Gail flapped her hand in Frankie's direction, 'of you.'

'Well, that's a first.'

'First what?' Gail regretted the words as soon they were out of her mouth.

'The very first woman to say she's had enough of this.' With a flourish, Frankie indicated the length of her body.

Gail sighed. She'd walked right into that.

'You really are not normal, Peck,' Frankie turned to look at Holly, following her movements as she stopped at the opening to the living area. 'So you and the doc, huh.' Frankie nudged Gail in the ribs with her elbow making Gail wince. 'Go on, spill.'

'1.5 metres remember.' Gail took a step back.

'Very funny Peck. Sure you wanna dip your wick a second time? Because that worked out so well with Collins.'

'Frankie,' Gail said tightly.

'Just saying. My philosophy—no do overs. I mean, you know how that story ends right so why read it again.'

'And you know I can hear your conversation,' Holly said, not moving from her position or turning to look at them.

'Just messing,' Frankie jogged to Holly's side, leaving a scowling Gail behind. 'It's so easy to yank Gail's chain.'

Gail couldn't be certain but could have sworn Holly snorted. Not a loud snort but unmistakably one of disagreement. Frankie gave no indication she heard it, although she must have given Holly was standing next to her.

Holly knelt down to continue her survey the living space. Above the mask, her brow was furrowed in concentration, her eyes tracking across the room and then back again in what appeared to Gail to be a grid pattern.

From here you could see through to the kitchen. The sink was overflowing with unwashed dishes and the benches littered with discarded take out containers, a jumbo-sized empty chip bag, open packets of cereal and a pitcher of milk which, if the smell was anything to go by, had gone off. Gail wrinkled her nose. Even the mask didn't cut the sour odour. If anything it was trapped inside the layers.

By contrast the living room was ordered. Too ordered, Gail decided. A large white pile rug obscured most of the rich dark wooden floorboards. It seemed a shame to cover them up. If it had been Gail's place, she'd have selected a much smaller rug, maybe something with warm red tones but understated so the flooring remained the feature.

'What are we looking for?' Frankie asked.

'The rug isn't completely flat,' Holly turned to face Gail, ignoring Frankie.

Gail crouched so she was almost shoulder to shoulder with Holly.

'See,' Holly pointed to a spot were the rug was puckered around the legs of an easy chair.

'We could have done that when we searched the apartment.'

'Except none of us spent much time in here. All the focus was on the bedroom where Ray was found.'

Gail straightened and craned her neck. On the opposite side of the room, at the outside margin of the rug, she could see a strip of timber, no more than a few millimetres in width, which was darker than the rest of the floorboards.

'It's been moved,' she said.

'What's been moved,' Frankie asked.

'The rug. See the floorboards are darker on that side, like it hasn't been put back exactly.'

'Maybe Ray and the killer had a struggle,' Frankie suggested.

'It's possible,' Gail conceded, 'given the autopsy indicated the pills could have been forced down Ray's throat.'

'Or maybe the killer used the rug to drag Ray's body across to the bedroom,' Holly stood. 'Look, indentations in the carpet from the furniture. The carpet isn't the only thing that's been moved and not put back in exactly the same place.'

'How do we know Ray didn't do some spring cleaning yesterday,' Frankie said.

'His partner just died,' Gail pointed out, 'I doubt dusting was high on his list of priorities.

'So? Grief makes people do weird things.'

'And his back injury left him largely incapacitated,' Holly said. 'From what I saw I doubt Ray would have been capable of moving the furniture on his own let alone vacuuming.'

'No sign of the sock,' Gail said, scanning the room once more.

'You mean this one,' Frankie pointed to a lone black sock tucked against the skirting board in the hallway.

'That would be it.'

'Be what?' Frankie was irritable now.

'Ray died with one sock on. Who does that if they plan to kill themselves?'

'Good point,' Frankie nodded. 'Might be time to pay Sam another visit.'

The sound of voices in the hallway signalled the arrival of Holly's colleagues. The two technicians paused outside the open apartment door to suit up. One of them was Mac and he gave Gail a sort of half salute. She smiled but then remembered she was wearing a mask so inclined her head to acknowledge him. Gail felt socially challenged at the best of times but COVID made all the interpersonal cues even harder to read.

'You good to get a ride back to the morgue with the techies?' Frank asked Holly.

'Yeah. We could be here for a bit. I think we need to go over the whole apartment.'

Gail shifted from foot to foot. She wanted to say something to Holly, to acknowledge all that had passed between them this morning. The admissions and the kisses. The feeling that finally, finally they were on the same page and caution be damned because COVID meant there were no guarantees a d no time to waste.

But Gail couldn't say that in front of Frankie or Mac and the other tech guy. Hard enough to say it privately to Holly. Except it hadn't been hard this morning. Now inextricably she was tongue-tied. Frankie was staring at her knowingly which made Gail's mind blank completely.

'Ah,' she flapped her hands as though they might conjure words. At least the movement filled the empty space.

'You'll give us an update when you're done,' Frankie said to Holly, tiring of Gail's inability to utter anything comprehensible.

'I guess we should—' Gail gestured to the front door where Mac and the other techie were waiting for she and Frankie to leave the apartment. COVID protocols she guessed.

Gail swung back around to face Holly. 'But—' she said and then stopped. But what.

'What my socially awkward colleague is trying to say is that she'd like to see you later,' Frankie said, amused and swaggering.

'I got that.' Holly sounded like she was grinning. She didn't seem annoyed with Frankie anymore. She turned her focus completely on Gail. 'Will you call or should I call? I don't know how long we'll be here. I mean, it could be late and we'll need to go back to the lab and that could take awhile—'

'Geez, how in the hell did you two ever hook up,' Frankie interrupted.

'Surprisingly easily.' Holly was irritated again.

'Oh that's right,' Frankie said with exaggerated understanding. 'Price said you two were inevitable. Made me think of death and disappointment.'

Frankie paused, clearly expecting a reaction from Holly and Gail. When neither spoke, she asked. 'Wanna know why?'

Gail rolled her eyes.

'Because they are inevitable.' Holly said, too polite not to respond but not feigning any interest either.

'Bingo.'

'There is that saying that nothing can be certain in this world but death and taxes,' Holly said.

'Benjamin Franklin,' Gail said almost to herself. Again she sensed Holly smile.

'What?' Frankie looked at Gail like she was speaking a different language.

'The author of the quote,' Holly supplied before continuing. 'And yes, you're right about death. It comes to us all, sooner or later, in one way or another. We have no choice about that. Sadly for some earlier and more violently than it should. But I'd argue disappointment is only inevitable if you allow it to be. It's never been a constant in my life.'

'Hang around Peck long enough and it might be.'

'You call me when you're done,' Gail said decisively, finally finding her voice. Frankie being an ass had that effect. As she turned to go, Holly moved a step closer and then she lightly touched Gail's arm. It felt as much like a caress as the moment would allow.

'Okay,' Holly leant in towards Gail, her voice no more than a whisper.

'1.5 metres.' Frankie wagged her finger.

'Fuck off Frankie,' Gail and Holly said in unison.

Frankie sulked all the way to the car. Apart from a grunt when Mac and the other tech said hello, she maintained a defiant silence. Once she and Gail were in the lift, she crossed her arms and jutted out her jaw, making no move to hit the ground button on the control panel next to her.

'Let me get that,' Gail said with exaggerated courtesy. She may as well have been talking to herself. Frankie studiously ignored her and didn't budge when Gail reached awkwardly around her to press the lift button.

In the car, Gail called Dov and asked him to follow up the clinic in Switzerland. She debated whether to keep the conversation to herself. It would serve Frankie right. But then she'd just have to relay it to Frankie later so she hit speaker on her phone.

'While you are at it, can you check Susan's bank accounts.'

'She in the frame?' Dov asked.

'It's a long shot but we may as well rule her out.'

'Makes sense. By the way, I checked Sam and Ray's social media accounts. Ray didn't post much but up until two months ago he was still liking Sam's posts, including a throwback photo of the two of them in high school.'

'So much closer than Sam claims.'

'Yep. Two months ago, Sam posted a photo of Paul's birthday dinner. He's sitting between Ray and Paul and has an arm around both of them. All three are grinning. Susan and her husband are there too.'

'What about Paul?'

'He hasn't been active on the socials for years but I did find a Grindr profile.'

'Shit,' Gail blew out a breath. This was a potential headache. It was possible they would have to track down and interview countless men. And sites like Grindr were notoriously reluctant to give out members' contact details, even for a murder investigation. Gail felt bad for Ray too. He had suspected Paul was seeing someone. Had Paul fallen for one of the men he'd matched with? Would it turn out the murderer was a jealous lover?

'Only one hook up. Six months ago,' Dov said. 'Makes life a bit easier.'

'Yeah. Got a name?'

'Micky. That's all. If the site won't give me his number, I'll try ah less legitimate means.'

'Meaning what?' Frankie spoke for the first time.

'Oh hey Frankie,' Dov replied cheerfully. 'Nothing illegal. I'll set up a fake Grindr account.'

'Just don't use your own photo. Not unless Micky is into twinks.'

'Twinks?' Dov said .

'Ignore Frankie,' Gail advised. 'She's not in a great mood.'

'Probably because your mother spent the morning interrogating her. Shoot. I wasn't meant to say anything.' Dov sounded genuinely contrite and not a little nervous. 'Hey, I think Oliver needs me,' he said hurriedly before ringing off abruptly.

'So that's what held you up this morning,' Gail frowned. Jeez, what was the Superintendent up to now.

Frankie shrugged noncommittally.

'So what was Elaine interrogating you about?' Even as she spoke, Gail knew—in fact dreaded—the answer.

'Holly.'

'Holly,' Gail repeated flatly.

'I gotta warn you, Peck, your mother is on the war path. Makes me happy my mother disowned me.'

That was news to Gail, though hardly surprising. Frankie never mentioned parents or siblings or grandparents or in fact any relative at all. Chloe had decided Frankie was an orphan and because she always referred to her as such, and Frankie hadn't bothered to correct her, people now accepted it as fact.

'So you're not an orphan,' Gail said.

'No,' Frankie scoffed, 'but that's not the point. Your mother is trouble.'

'Yeah, like I don't know that.'

'Trouble for you and Holly. She found out Holly's married and thought I might something about Holly's husband's visa status. Somehow she knew that friend of mine was at the wedding.'

'Shit,' Gail stared gloomily out the window. Had her mother being tabs on Holly since the move to San Francisco? 'You didn't tell Elaine anything.'

'Of course not! But the Superintendent said if Holly had participated in immigration fraud, she may not be a fit and proper person to hold a senior role in law enforcement or to be involved with a Peck.'

'Shit, Shit, Shit,' Gail put her head in her hands.

'Articulate,' Frankie observed drily. 'Don't worry. Even though the Superintendent whipped out the metaphorical thumb screws, I swore black and blue there was nothing going on between you and Holly.'

'And Elaine believed you?'

Frankie grimaced. 'Maybe not. Even though I was pretty convincing.'

'What am I going to do? She could ruin Holly's career.'

'I don't doubt it. You sure Holly's worth it? She's not going to cut and run again?'

'What? Yes! No! I mean yes she's worth it and anyway I ran first.'

'Not as far as San Francisco,' Frankie pointed out. 'Maybe you need to go on a date with the Mayor's daughter.'

'Did my mother put you up to this?'

'She mentioned the Mayor's daughter. She doesn't understand why you're so resistant. I just figured it wouldn't hurt. Might throw the Superintendent off the scent.'

'The Mayor's daughter is practically a child.'

'Why is your mother so set against Holly. Doesn't she tick all the boxes?'

Gail was surprised by the sincerity in Frankie's voice. And something else too that sounded awfully like compassion. Was that what all that bullshit back at Ray's apartment been about? Likewise when Frankie pushed Gail on whether Holly was worth it. Was Frankie actually in some screwy way being protective?

'Has Holly done something to piss off the Superintendent?' Frankie asked.

'Only that I chose her,' Gail said, the revelation coming as she spoke.

'Oh,' Frankie nodded in understanding. 'And your mother wants to do the choosing. How very old fashioned. Like an arranged marriage.'

'She doesn't trust me to find anyone suitable.'

'And you're going to let her get away with that crap?'

'No!' Gail shook her head vehemently. 'But you gotta admit I don't have a great track record.'

'Okay, I'm choosing not to be offended by that comment. But because I'm feeling magnanimous I'll tell you what you need to do.'

Did Gail want to take advice from Frankie? 'Detective love em and leave em' as Dov had once referred to her, only to be chastised by Chloe, who believed that Frankie was deeply lonely because being an orphan (so much for that theory) she didn't know how to be in a relationship. 'No role models', Chloe had pronounced.

Gail sighed. 'What do I need to do?' She couldn't have sounded more unenthusiastic if she had tried.

'Make the Superintendent think Holly was her idea.'

It wasn't a bad plan. 'How?' Gail asked, allowing something like hope to bubble up.

'I dunno,' Frankie waved her hand about airily. 'I gave you an idea. Now you have to run with it.'

If only it were that simple.

'Why don't I date Holly?' Frankie said after a moment.

'Wait, what,' Gail spluttered.

'It's not what you're thinking Peck and frankly I'm a little insulted.'

'What,' Gail said again, not entirely convinced that Frankie was levelling with her.

'Gail, we're friends. Best friends I guess.'

'We are?' Gail managed to croak.

Frankie gave her a strange look. 'Um yeah,' Frankie said like there was no question about it. She looked at Gail quizzically, like she wasn't sure if Gail had temporarily taken leave of her senses or was just giving her shit. 'Funny Peck,' Frankie said, settling on the latter. 'And unlike Andy I know you don't break the code. So Holly is all yours.'

'Okay,' Gail said hesitantly.

'Nerdy librarian types aren't my thing anyway. But if Elaine thinks Holly is hot property, she'll decide only you should have her.'

'Hot property,' Gail echoed, wondering if she dared unpack that. 'Frankie, this is not the 1950s. No one is anyone's property.'

'Of course not. Do you think I'm some kind of Neanderthal. I don't mean literally. But think about it. If the Superintendent thinks a whole bunch of people are interested in Holly—'

'A whole bunch,' Gail interrupted, not sure she liked where this was going.

'Keep up, Peck,' Frankie snapped her fingers. 'Critical mass is essential. If I fake date Holly, your mother will be relieved that Holly is off the market and not dating you. But if everyone wants to date Holly, well the Superintendent won't be happy until a Peck gets the prize and seeing as you are currently the only eligible Peck, I think that means you.'

'Market. Prize,' Gail repeated. 'Holly's not a—'

'Don't worry, leave it to me. By tomorrow the Superintendent will think half of 15 is in love with Holly.'

This sounded more harebrained than Rodney and Helene's scheme but before Gail could object Frankie was pulling up outside Sam's house.

The place looked shuttered up. The blinds were drawn on the windows both on the ground floor and upstairs. When Frankie tried the security screen door that shielded the front door she found it was deadlocked. Gail tried banging on a downstairs window but there was no response.

'Clearly not following stay at home orders,' Frankie observed.

'He may have gone to the shop,' Gail suggested.

'And left the place like Fort Knox?'

'You think he's done a runner?'

'Maybe.'

By the gate, Gail checked the letter box. It wasn't locked. She pulled out a handful of letters. Most were bills but there was a sorry we missed you card from the post office dated two days before.

Gail held it up. 'The very day we interviewed Sam. You don't think he did a runner straight after that?'

'He certainly wasn't in a hurry to collect his parcel,' Frankie said.

As she spoke, a neighbour appeared in his doorway. He was middle-aged, with thinning hair in desperate need of a cut, and a paunch that suggested too much beer and not enough exercise. He had on a grubby looking mask and a t-shirt that was wearing some of his lunch. Or was it breakfast? Gail didn't want to look too closely.

'Tampering with mail is an offence,' he shouted out, 'I'm calling the police now.' He held his mobile aloft.

'It's okay,' Gail held up her badge in a similar manner. 'We are the police.'

'Then you should know better than to go through other people's letterboxes.'

Frankie gave a long suffering sigh. 'You seen your neighbour Sam in the last few days?' she asked, also flashing her badge. She started to advance up the pathway toward the guy.

'Stop,' he shouted again. '1.5 metres.'

Frankie came to a halt the requisite distance away with Gail right behind.

'Mr—' Gail began.

The guy squinted at their badges for a long moment before replying. 'Gregory. Phil Gregory.'

'Mr Gregory, we're trying to locate Sam Ramirez. Have you seen him today?'

'I don't keep tabs on my neighbours.'

'Sure, but can you recall when you last saw him?' Frankie pushed.

'Two days ago when that woman picked him up. It was about an hour after you two left.'

'Thought you didn't keep tabs.' Frankie raised an eyebrow.

Phil scowled. 'I'm working from home. My desk faces the street,' he jerked his eyes thumb in the direction of his front window.

'The woman–what did she look like?' Gail asked.

'I mean I think it was a woman. I didn't get a good look. She drove up and didn't get out of the car.'

'She wasn't someone you recognised? Maybe she visited before?'

'It wasn't Sam's girlfriend if that's what you're thinking. He told me they split right before the pandemic. Lousy timing huh.'

Gail nodded.

'Anyway his girlfriend was a redhead. This chick had brown hair. I think she was white. Sam must have been waiting for her because he came out with his suitcase straight away.'

'Suitcase?' Gail echoed. 'Big or small?'

'Average. Like maybe he was going on vacation'

'You didn't think it strange someone would take a vacation in a lockdown?'

Phil shrugged. 'Not my job to police the street. Maybe Sam is one of those people who think lockdowns are an attack on individual liberty.'

'Maybe,' Frankie didn't sound convinced. 'Can you recall anything about the car. Make. Colour?'

'Silver. A sedan. Maybe a Toyota. I'm not really a car aficionado. I ride a bike.'

'Yeah. Good for you.'

'What's Sam supposed to have done? Always seemed straight down the line to to me.'

'He's just assisting us with an investigation,' Gail said.

'That sounds like BS to me. What, you catch him not wearing a mask and want to lock him up.'

'If we arrested everyone who refused to wear a mask, our jails would be full,' Gail said with faux sweetness. She drew a card from her coat pocket. 'If Sam comes back, can you call me.'

'If I happen to see him.'

'If you happen to be looking out the window and see him.'

Phil reached out gingerly to take the card from Gail, holding it by one edge like it had cooties. 'You're not going to tell me what Sam did, are you.'

Gail shook her head.

'Couldn't help himself,' Frankie said when they were out of earshot. 'Regular neighbourhood snoop.'

'Yeah, and don't we love them,' Gail said as she opened the car door. It was true. How many cases might have remained unsolved or taken longer to close if it hadn't been for a vital clue provided by the neighbourhood busybody.

'You know what kind of car Susan drives?' Frankie asked.

'Nope. You thinking she's our mystery woman?'

'She matches the description.'

'Such as it was,' Gail observed drily.

'Such as it was. Probably wouldn't hurt to pay her a visit.' Frankie did a quick and normally illegal u-turn while Gail punched Susan's name into the data terminal.

'She's only 10 minutes away,' Gail said before relaying Susan's address.

The house was a single story red brick bungalow with a small porch and a plate glass front door that allowed you to see right inside. In fact all the way down a corridor with freshly polished wooden boards to a kitchen that looked newly renovated. Beyond that, two French doors led out to a deck with a pergola which also appeared to be a recent addition.

Out of the corner of her eye Gail caught a flash of movement in the corridor. An indeterminate shape rather than an actual person. Like someone had begun to step into the corridor and then almost instantly taken a step back for quite suddenly the corridor was empty. It was so fleeting, Gail didn't entirely trust she hadn't imagined it.

'Did you see that?' she asked Frankie.

'You mean the suitcase,' Frankie pointed to a red case by the door.

'Unless that's Sam's bag, it's an awful coincidence.'

'And I don't believe in those.' Frankie began pressing the front doorbell. When no one answered she tried tapping on the glass pane on the front door before going back to the bell. 'No one home,' she said finally.

'Or not answering,' Gail said, explaining what she thought she had seen.

'Man or woman?'

Gail shrugged. 'It was more a shadow.'

'Are you sure you're not seeing things?' Frankie asked, her skepticism clear.

'Not 100 per cent,' Gail conceded.

'I'll ask Dov to ping her phone. And Sam's. At least that might tell us if they're in the house.'

Dov got back to them within minutes. 'Both phones are turned off so I can't track them. Last time Susan used hers was near Ray's apartment. Must have called a burner phone because I've got the number but it's not registered in anyone's name. I tried tracking it but it's been switched off too.'

'Can you find out where it was purchased?' Frankie asked.

'Will do. Could take a few days,' Dov sighed before ringing off.

'Maybe the good doctor was right about Sam and Susan,' Frankie gave Gail a shit eating grin.

'We need to speak to Susan's husband,' Gail replied, not rising to the bait. 'And Sam's ex.'

Frankie checked her watch. 'You can do that first thing tomorrow. I've got a date.'

Gail rolled her eyes. Did Frankie even realise they were in lockdown? Seemed like she had a different date every night. Not that Gail cared who Frankie had sex with. It was just a worry that she didn't seem too fussed about the whole social isolation concept.

'What?' Frankie demanded. 'She's in my bubble.'

She and how many others, Gail wanted to say but bit her tongue.

'As a single woman, it's important for my mental health that I maintain a bubble,' Frankie said piously, 'maybe you should try it instead of holing up at your place by yourself.'

After retrieving her car from outside Ray's apartment, Gail headed home. She hadn't heard from Holly but that was no surprise. Processing the scene again would take several hours and that was before any evidence was examined in the lab. If there was new evidence. Hopefully she hadn't sent Holly on some wild goose chase.

Unlocking the front door, Gail almost tripped over Harley who rushed at her and then threaded through her legs, miaowing manically.

'Okay, okay you want food. You know you're not going to get it any faster if you break my neck,' Gail scooped up the cat who butted her head against Gail's and began to purr. 'Lucky you're so adorable. But don't tell anyone I said that.'

She emptied a can of paw lickin' chicken (who even came up with these names) into a bowl and set it and Harley on the floor. The cat went straight to the food, not even giving Gail a sideways glance, her little pink tongue darting out to lap the gravy first. Cats, Gail shook her head. You had to admire their single-mindedness in getting their needs met.

She opened the fridge and examined the contents. Then closed it again. Hard to be inspired when cooking just for one. She wondered if eating icecream for dinner was out of the question.

When the pandemic first hit, Elaine in a fit of parental concern had cooked Gail a week's worth of dinners. All but one tomato based. Spaghetti Bolognese. Tomato soup. Ratatouille and chicken. Spicy sausages in tomato sauce. Tomato and goats cheese tarts. Tomato and chickpea bake. Evidently, since his forced retirement, Bill had cultivated a vegetable garden and this year was rewarded with a bumper tomato crop.

'I found a website called 100 things to do with tomatoes', Elaine trilled when she delivered the meals, sealed in carefully labelled Tupperware containers and accompanied by a page of instructions about how to reheat each one.

She had hovered on the doorstep, clearly wanting to be invited in. Gail didn't recall giving Elaine her address, not that that had ever stopped her mother. She used the police data base like her personal address book.

'Best not come in,' Gail had said, 'I've got a tickle in my throat'.

Elaine was instantly aghast. 'Have you been tested,' she took a step back from the doorstep into the corridor outside.

'Just about to get one,' Gail lied easily. Well, it was almost true. She was due for a routine test tomorrow. One of the joys of being an essential worker.

'I worry about you,' Elaine had said, with what could have passed for real concern. 'All alone. You could come home but—' she broke off and looked down the corridor to the lift as though it beckoned her.

'I'm fine mother,' Gail said firmly. Elaine wouldn't say it but Bill and Gail could never be under the same roof, not while Bill still refused to see his daughter. Happy families. Had Elaine decided to feel guilty about pulling out all stops to get Steve released into home detention while Gail was excommunicated?

Her mother narrowed her eyes, trying to work out if Gail was telling the truth. She glanced back down at the lift but lingered still. Gail forced a cough and Elaine took another step back. If anything she more of a germaphobe than Gail.

'Well at least if you have to isolate, you won't need to worry about cooking,' Elaine indicated the Tupperware containers stacked by the doorway. 'Well, I best be off. Don't want to delay your test.' Elaine started edging down the corridor. 'But call if you need anything.'

'Yes mother.' As the lift swallowed Elaine up, Gail gloomily regarded the Tupperware containers. Chris had been happy to take them off her hands. Though Gail grew heartily sick of him greeting her at the station each day with 'man, the Superintendent sure can cook' and was relieved when after a week the supplies ran out.

The sudden interest Elaine was taking in her life was quite weird. After ignoring her for the better part of four years, the Superintendent had appeared at 15 one day insisting Gail accompany her to lunch, picking up where she had left off before putting Gail in the deep freeze, without any reference to the radio silence. Lunch was a foretaste of what was to come. A barrage of suggested courses Gail should do and jobs she should apply for and telephone numbers of eligible women she should date.

Elaine had even started lining up potential sperm donors, something Gail only became aware of when a detective from another division who she knew a little from the Pride float had asked why Gail hadn't felt comfortable approaching him directly. 'But here,' he said, thrusting some papers at her, 'my HIV and STD tests. All clear.' Gail must have looked uncomprehending (in truth her open mouth was from shock, though really nothing Elaine did should have surprised her) because he added, 'The Superintendent asked for them.'

It had dawned on Gail that she was the last hope of the Peck dynasty. Steve was beyond rehabilitation. Bill's brother hadn't had any children and, apart from Gail, all the other Pecks of her generation had drifted away from policing and even Toronto. A number of them to avoid investigation and the rest to escape the stain now attached to the family name. There was a second cousin but it was generally accepted that he wouldn't amount to anything, having barely scraped through the Academy and only then because Elaine had put in a good word for him.

So once again Gail became Elaine's project. At least before, when Steve was the shiny thing, he took some of the focus off Gail. Although back then, her parents were always comparing her unfavourably (of course) to Steve. That certainly was something she didn't miss.

Gail had long ago cast off the ambivalence she felt around her mother, that push and pull between an eagerness to please and sullen rebellion that had remained way past her teenage years into her twenties. Now she didn't really care what her mother thought, only half listening to the plans Elaine made for her and only acquiescing when it suited. And yet Gail was careful not to overstep too much, knowing Elaine could still make her life hell. Just as she could make things difficult for Holly.

Abandoning thoughts of dinner, Gail decided to go for a run. It was still light outside and balmy. It didn't stop Gail working up a sweat. The further she went the more Gail began to fume about Elaine's interference and the faster she ran. It was all very well for Elaine to try and browbeat her into submission but to threaten Holly. That was unconscionable and Gail wouldn't put up with it.

After 40 minutes she looped back home through Trinity Bellwood's Park, forced onto an alternative path to the one she normally took which was overhung with cherry blossoms. It was the second most popular cherry grove in the city but at the beginning of spring city officials had fenced it off to deter crowds from gathering to take photos of the blossom. Sakura season. Just one in a growing list of events cancelled by COVID.

By the time Gail reached home she was breathing raggedly. Catching her reflection in a storefront window, she saw that her face was red and her hair plastered across her forehead. She realised her legs felt like jelly and there was an uncomfortable burn in her lungs. Pushed too hard, she thought as her left side began to cramp.

Staggering across to the apartment stoop, Gail sat down with a thud, all but collapsing onto the concrete steps. She hung her head between her knees and after several minutes her breathing began to steady a little but she was still flushed.

'Gail'. It was Chloe sounding surprised. 'I didn't know you ran.'

Gail jerked her head up, the sudden movement dizzying. There standing in front of her was Andy and Chloe, supporting Holly between them.

'How did you get my address?' Gail managed in what was quite possibly the stupidest thing to say in the circumstances. Especially as she now saw that one knee of Holly's jeans was ripped and stained with blood. Her forearm was raw, like a layer of skin had been scraped off, and she had a matching though smaller abrasion on her cheek.

'Shit,' Gail croaked, still not in complete control of her breathing and painfully aware that this response was possibly equally as bad as the first.

'I'm okay really,' Holly said, even though she was clearly not. Maybe Gail wasn't the only one who said sim-witted things, although she could tell that Holly was trying to tough it out. 'I just need to go home.' Holly added.

'She was knocked off her bike by a car,' Andy explained, 'and refused to go to the hospital to get checked out.'

'So we thought you were the next best thing,' Chloe chimed in cheerfully. Gail could have sworn Chloe had a glint in her eye.