I do not own Rookie Blue or any of the character…
It's been so long and I'm so sorry. I want to write and update regularly but life has been crazily busy. I hope you enjoy this chapter. I've tried to include some reminders for readers who might have lost track of the various threads since I last updated (I know I had!).
I should probably reread and re-edit this but I think it's time to post it. Let me know what you think. I love hearing from you. Weirdly whenever I post either of my fics, I seem to immediately lose followers—kind of makes me nervous about posting, but then along the way new readers decide to follow so I guess it all works out. But a big thank you to all those readers who are sticking with the story, who follow and fav and most especially review.
….
'I splashed cold water on my face and when I looked up from the basin I saw Francine's reflection in the mirror. She was standing right behind me.'
'And you didn't notice her coming into the bathroom?' Matt asked.
Gail shook her head. 'She must have been really quiet.' It sounded lame. Gail knew that. She was a police officer. She was supposed to be observant. It occurred to her that Elaine had not yet rebuked her for that. Which was strange because in the world according to Elaine that lapse made Gail responsible for this current cluster fuck.
Gail looked around at her surroundings. The interview rooms in Internal Affairs were nothing like the ones at 15. This one was more like a small cubicle. The kind of place you'd expect to be sold a new cell phone plan rather than have the thumb screws applied. In fact, Matt was so close Gail could have leant across the small table between them and touched him. She supposed the lack of formality was deliberate so you'd be lulled you into thinking this was no big deal and then they could catch you off guard. Even if Gail had been naïve enough to fall for such an obvious ploy, a blinking red light in one corner of the room indicated the interview was being recorded and put pay to Matt's inference that this was no more than an off the record catch-up.
Gail started to bite her lip and then stopped herself. Never give anything away. It was Elaine's voice Gail heard. Reflexively she assumed the Peck poker face. Impassive and cool. It was legendary. Her morning hadn't exactly panned out as planned. The moment her mother had disconnected, Matt had called summoning her to the big building. 'Just routine,' he had said. Routine my ass, Gail thought. Matt's call had put an end to any discussion about accompanying Holly to the building site to recover the second body.
Holly had actually seemed relieved Gail was required elsewhere but that was because Gail hadn't told her the substance of Elaine's call. Why worry Holly needlessly, she reasoned, because surely Matt would see what Francine was trying to do. So she told Holly the interview was just procedure and Holly had smiled brightly and nodded and then headed for the shower. Gail had sat on the edge of the bed, worrying at her bottom lip until the sound of Holly turning off the taps forced her to move.
'Was Dr Hart quiet or were you too drunk to notice her?' Kramer asked. The judgment in her voice was impossible to miss, like she'd already made up her mind about Gail. Clearly one of the cops who fell into the all Pecks are corrupt camp.
Madeline Kramer was Matt's boss. Gail didn't know much about her except she had a reputation for being a hardass and was on the team responsible for putting Steve away. Kramer was rewarded for her work on that particular case with a promotion to detective sergeant. She had a pointy face, which reminded Gail of a ferret—feral rather than cute, and kind of apt given her job was all about ferreting around.
Kramer had the complexion of a committed smoker. There was a certain greyness to it you'd normally associate with the very sick, but it was also mottled here and there with red blotches. Her teeth had yellowed too and Gail guessed the detective sergeant was younger than she looked. The smell of stale smoke that hung about her filled the cubicle and it made Gail feel slightly nauseous. She was thankful smoking was one habit she'd never taken up. Good thing too because Holly said she could never date a smoker. 'I've seen too many smokers' lungs,' she said by way of explanation.
'Well?' Kramer asked when Gail didn't respond. She tapped the table with her pen.
Gail became aware of the loud ticking of the clock on the wall, it's sound magnified by the airless cubicle. She suddenly felt hot and couldn't help running a finger along one side of her collar. 'I wasn't that drunk,' she said quietly, pleased that she was maintaining her cool despite feeling so overheated. Then she noticed that Kramer had followed the movement of her finger as she loosened her collar. Great. If that didn't make her look flustered nothing would.
'But drunk enough that you needed to splash cold water on your face to sober up.'
Gail sighed. 'It had been a long day. Yes I had a few drinks but I just wanted to freshen up before Dr Stewart and her parents arrived.'
'Were you nervous about meeting your girlfriend's parents? Is that why you drank a lot.'
Gail had to stop from rolling her eyes. Kramer was really beginning to irritate her. Last time Gail looked she was the victim but Kramer seemed to be delighting in treating her like a suspect. She sighed again. 'I get along better with Holly's parents than my own.'
'That's not saying much. Aren't you estranged from your father and word is your relationship with your mother is strained at best.'
Gail swiveled her gaze to Matt. Had he told Kramer that? He looked back at her steadily. On the other hand, the way gossip spread around 15 it was hardly surprising Kramer knew.
'I'm very close to Karl and Becca Stewart. I have no reason to be nervous around them.'
'Hmm,' Kramer said, and pursed her lips. She opened a file on the table in front of her and rifled through the pages until she found the one she wanted. She began to trace the words on the paper with her finger, her lips silently forming the words. Gail stared at Kramer intently until the detective sergeant finally finished reading and looked up. When she caught Gail's expression, she half-smiled. If anything it made her look more like a ferret. 'But you'd had a few,' Kramer paused and raised an eyebrow, 'shots.'
'Yeah.'
'So it's quite possible you may have passed out and hit the basin as you fell.'
'Is that what Francine Hart is saying?' She looked over at Matt for help but he was staring down at the table. Clearly Kramer had decided to take the lead in the interview.
'You of all people know we're not at liberty to divulge that,' Kramer said primly.
No one spoke for a moment. Gail wondered if her growing animosity towards the detective sergeant was obvious. She was trying to keep that in check too. Nothing would be achieved by giving Kramer a reason to dislike her anymore than she already did.
'In the mirror I saw Francine Hart bring her hands down towards my head. Her intention was clear. If I hadn't moved to the left, I may not be here talking to you right now.'
'You suggesting Francine Hart wanted to kill you?'
'I believe so,' Gail said. 'At the very least my injuries would have been considerably worse.'
'Mmm,' Kramer nodded slowly but rather than signifying agreement, the deliberateness of the action made it seem like she doubted Gail's assertion. 'So would Holly—'
'Dr Stewart,' Gail corrected. It annoyed her that Kramer assumed this familiarity with Holly. No doubt it was calculated to do just that. Still, Gail decided it wouldn't hurt to remind the detective sergeant that she was referring to the deputy chief of forensics.
'Dr Stewart,' Kramer paused. If Gail had hoped to score a point, it was lost in the patronising way Kramer spoke, drawing out 'doctor' so it became almost an insult. 'Would you say she's protective of you?'
Gail frowned. 'I guess.' Gail had a fair idea where this questioning was going and she didn't like it. Being protective was part of who Holly was. She hated if anyone was hurt or mistreated, let alone the people she loved. But there was no way in hell Gail would share this part of Holly or their relationship with Kramer. She could predict the detective sergeant would twist it around to make it seem overbearing and dysfunctional rather than something Gail cherished. Holly's solicitude towards her had been a revelation—before Holly the people Gail had dated regarded her as too much of an Ice Queen to be capable of hurt.
'Overly protective?' Kramer cocked an eyebrow again.
Gail screwed up her face. 'What are you getting at?'
'Is Ho–Dr Stewart the jealous type?'
'She's friends with most of my exes—so you tell me detective.' Gail deliberately left off the sergeant. It was one of Elaine's tricks—getting names and titles wrong— that was calculated to impress upon people their inferiority. Gail paused and rocked back slightly in her chair.
'So that's a no.'
'Uh huh,' Gail said.
'Would she attack someone if she thought they were attacking you.'
'Thought. There's no thought here. Francine did attack me. Dr Stewart saved my life.'
'But you were unconscious. How do you know what Dr Stewart did?'
'I saw the look on Francine Hart's face. It was crazed. She was determined to harm me.'
'So now you're a psychiatrist,' Kramer scoffed.
Gail clenched her hands so tightly she could feel her finger nails digging into the skin. Somehow, like a release valve, it allowed her to remain outwardly composed.
'Okay Kramer. Cut the bullshit. Are you accusing me of lying?'
'We're just trying to get the facts straight,' Kramer said, smirking a little as she said straight, 'aren't we Detective Kennedy.'
Matt shifted uncomfortably. 'Um yeah,' he mumbled.
'That's probably all we need for now,' Kramer shut the folder in front of her with such force it made a slapping sound, enough to make Matt jump. Boy was he on edge, Gail thought.
Ignoring Matt's reaction, Kramer continued, her tone increasingly hectoring. 'Detective Kennedy will escort you out. I don't need to remind you that you are not to discuss this case with anyone who was present that night, including your girlfriend.' Without waiting for a reply, Kramer stood abruptly and gathered the folder. She was probably desperate for a cigarette Gail thought.
Kramer turned when she reached the door. 'How about you—how far would you go to protect Dr Stewart?'
Gail regarded her coolly. 'I wouldn't lie about this if that's what you're implying.'
Kramer gave a knowing smile.
'You're not taking this seriously? Gail asked once Kramer shut the door and Matt switched off the camera.
Matt shifted a little in his chair and looked down at the notes in front of him. When he looked up, he didn't quite meet Gail's eye.
'Afraid we have to.' It was said apologetically.
'Because I'm a Peck. If Holly was dating anyone else this would be going nowhere.'
Matt rubbed his forehead. 'It's out of my hands.'
'Should we be worried?'
Matt sighed and again looked down at the notes. He absentmindedly fiddled with the lid of his pen. Normally he was very still in interviews. Gail had sat next to him in enough of them to know. He was a broad guy and muscular but so contained that it was only when he stood that you noticed his bulk. When had he become so fidgety, Gail wondered, and then realised it was probably about the time she walked into the room.
'Maybe,' Matt said, bringing his head up and this time looking directly at Gail. 'She's got a good lawyer. The dog after a bone type. Arrogant too. I got the impression he's used to winning.'
'Yeah, I met him,' Gail twisted her mouth in distaste.
'Oh that's right. When Francine withdrew her complaint against you.'
'See, she's a serial complainer. You must see that,' Gail said, deciding Matt didn't need to know that Elaine had once set her up on a blind date with said lawyer.
Matt blew out a breath. 'Except her lawyer says she's the victim of a campaign of sustained harassment and abuse orchestrated by you and Holly. Hart's now claiming she only dropped the complaint in the hope you and Holly would stop targeting her—' Matt stopped and flipped through his notes, 'and that Holly also assaulted her in the car park at 15 on the 10 January this year.'
'That's bullshit and everyone at 15 knows that, including you Matt.' Gail fought to control the anger building in her chest—white hot and magnified by a growing realisation of her powerlessness. How could all this evidence be so misconstrued? Every thing pointed to Francine. 'Fiona Vincent witnessed it. She had to pull Francine away from Holly.'
'Vincent didn't see the whole confrontation. Shit, I should't be showing you this but—'
'But what?' Gail asked more harshly than she intended.
Matt dug out a folder from beneath his notes and extracted three photos. He slid them across the table for Gail to see. The first was of Francine from the neck up. You could make out the bruising around her neck, the angry red finger marks making it clear she'd been throttled. The other two were close-ups of the bruising.
'See the date and time code,' Matt said.
Gail nodded. '10 January 2018. 7 pm. One hour after she threatened Holly in the car park. She claims Holly did this?'
Matt nodded. 'Before Vincent got there.'
'You know Holly isn't responsible for this. They have to be self-inflicted.'
'I guess it's a possibility,' Matt hedged.
'You don't think,' Gail started, her cheeks flushing red and her eyes widening in consternation. 'Matt, Holly's not capable of this.'
Matt made a face as if he were pained. 'We need to consider all the evidence—'
'Kramer thinks I'm covering for Holly doesn't she?' Gail interrupted.
Matt nodded.
'And she hates Pecks.'
Matt nodded again.
'We're screwed,' Gail blew out a breath.
….
As she came through the oversized revolving door and onto the sidewalk, Gail almost ran smack into Officer Officer. He jumped when he saw her. If it had been anyone else from 15 she would have laughed out loud. It was like he'd seen a ghost and the way his expression morphed might have been comical had he not brushed past her so aggressively—at first he was startled, then flustered, and finally for the briefest of moments he regarded Gail with open hostility. Then he put his head down and scurried into the building.
Weird, thought Gail, why hadn't Officer even acknowledged her? The guy was a dick but she worked with him, was in fact his superior, and surely a little courtesy was in order. Was he just another cop who hated her because she was a Peck? Take a number, she felt like calling after him as the revolving door swallowed him up.
She wondered what business Officer had in police headquarters. Was it too much to hope he was getting fired? Oh shit, he was probably there to talk to Kramer but what did he know about the case? He and Duncan had turned up at the house the night she and Holly discovered the photo Francine had doctored, but that was about it. Oh fuck, Gail slammed the palm of her hand against her forehead. The speeding ticket. Officer was there when Duncan pulled Holly over and then refused to write a ticket. Could Kramer use that against Holly or even her?
….
Gail slammed into the detective pen and sat down heavily in her chair, swinging her boots up onto the edge of the desk. Her mood had not improved in the walk from the big building. If anything she had become more despondent. Holly was the one true constant in her life and no matter what shit came their way—and lets face it they'd be dealing with more than their share—the fact of Holly made these things surmountable. Gail realised she had an unshakable faith that Holly would always be there. Was it possible she was about to lose all of that? Worst-case scenario if Holly was convicted she could go to jail. At the very least she'd lose her job.
At the sound of Gail's boots clunking on the desk, Frankie looked up from her computer screen and regarded Gail with one eyebrow raised and an expression of amusement. 'So it went well, huh,' she said sarcastically. They were the only two in the pen. Gail figured Dov and Chloe were still back at the building site.
'Peachy,' Gail scowled.
'Wanna talk about it?'
'You know we're not supposed to, Anderson.'
'And you know that's bullshit, Peck.' It was said in Frankie's usual combatative way and yet Gail sensed that below that there lay a genuine offer of help. Before she could explore that further, Frankie's phone pinged.
'This will cheer you up,' Frankie held up the phone to show a message from Holly. 'Wanna come to an autopsy.'
'Hell yeah,' Gail started to get up and then sat back down again. An autopsy meant seeing Holly and she wasn't sure if she was ready to tell Holly about the interview with Internal Affairs just yet, well not until she'd had a chance to figure out what they had on Holly. 'I mean, maybe I should stay here and look though the case notes. You know see if there's anything we've missed or that I missed while I was on medical leave.'
'Nice try. We did that last night and I know Price has been regularly updating you on the sly,' Frankie grinned, entirely too pleased with herself, at least in Gail's opinion. How had Frankie figured out about Price? Did it mean she also knew they'd spoken to Kate Lewis and Giselle?
'So it looks like you're coming with me to the morgue.' Frankie used her boot to push the bottom of Gail's chair so it rolled away from the desk a little.
'Fuck Anderson, what are you five,' Gail said grabbing onto the desk to steady herself, her scowl deepening but then she stood and followed Frankie out of the pen.
They didn't speak again until they were in the car.
'So that review last night—did it throw up anything new?'
Frankie shook her head.
'Still think the ex-husband killed Melanie Fisher?' Gail prodded.
'I haven't got any other suspects,' Frankie said tersely. Still a sore point then, Gail thought.
'But it's worth keeping an open mind,' Gail pushed.
'Yeah, yeah,' Frankie sighed. 'But if this body turns out to be Mitchell Cormann, which I'm betting it will, then the ex-husband has to be in the frame.'
'Because you're more likely to be murdered by someone you know,' Gail said.
'And especially someone you're related to,' Frankie nodded in agreement.
'So how about Len Cormann then?'
'What's the motive?'
'Could be jealousy? Maybe Len had a thing for Melanie. Her father said he didn't like the way Len looked at Melanie. You know, creepy.'
'Doesn't make him a murderer.'
'But debt might.'
'But if he killed Mitchell so he could get all the proceeds from the sale of the clubhouse land, where does Melanie fit in? She was killed eighteen months before.'
Gail bit her lip and took a deep breath. It was now or never. 'Well, Melanie's death could also be about debt. Price and I have a theory.' She tried to sound cool but the words came out rushed and breathless, like she was afraid Frankie would shoot down this idea before she had a chance to explain.
'I bet you do,' Frankie twisted her mouth. Gail waited a beat and then two. She was sure Frankie was about to totally lose it. Nothing annoyed her more on an investigation than a rogue detective. 'Well,' Frankie said, 'are you going to share with the class?'
'Okay,' Gail said, surprised by Frankie's mild reaction. 'We know Cormann's practically bankrupt despite the sale of the clubhouse.'
'Yeah, yeah. Len's a gambler. Owes money all over town. Banned from all the casinos. Dov discovered he's mortgaged to the hilt. Even refinanced the loan on his condo.'
'We also know Lee Chou runs the biggest illegal gambling set up in Toronto. Chances are Cormann owes him money. Kate Lewis—'
'The pin-up girl for anti-Sex Trafficking,' Frankie interjected.
'Kate put Chloe and me in contact with a girl who's been trafficked. Giselle,' Gail continued, ignoring Frankie's comment. 'She said Lee Chou is deep into sex trafficking. He's even bringing in girls from China. Giselle met Melanie Fisher when she was writing the expose on sex slavery.'
'And Giselle told her about Chou.'
Gail nodded.
'But guns and drugs are Chou's thing. Sex trafficking wouldn't be worth the hassle'
'You wanna bet? Most girls make upwards of $300,000 a year. Plus our Border Services Agency has been so successful in stopping drugs and gun coming into the country, it's become easier to smuggle people.'
'So you're saying Chou offered Len the chance to wipe his debt in exchange for murdering Melanie.'
'I think it's worth looking into.'
Frankie didn't say anything for a moment but tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. Gail knew better than to interrupt her. Frankie resented it if you tried to rush her, especially when she was mulling something over.
'Why'd you wait til now to tell me,' she said finally.
'Jesus, Frankie every time I mentioned it you blocked it,' Gail said.
'Why would Chou trust Cormann to do the killing? He's got plenty of goons who do it for him,' Frankie mused, unfazed by Gail's outburst.
'I dunno,' Gail threw up her hands irritably. She sensed that Frankie, having just come around to considering Len Cormann as the murder had quickly gone cold on the idea.
'Geez Peck. I'm just saying. We don't even know if Cormann owed Chou money.'
'But it's worth following up isn't it?' Gail tried not to sound too eager.
'Yeah,' Frankie conceded. 'We don't have much else to go on. But Price should have brought this up at the review last night. I don't want either of you going behind my back again. We're not going to get results if we don't work as a team.'
'Yeah,' Gail nodded and looked out the window. She wasn't certain Frankie had a right to be on her high horse given how blinkered she'd been about the case but she was the boss. After a moment Gail turned back to face Frankie. 'And it's good practice in an investigation to remain open minded.' She was risking Frankie's wrath, which was not a pretty or welcome thing, however Frankie just smiled wryly and said 'touché Peck.' It wasn't the response Gail had expected. What had made Frankie so chill?
By the time they pulled into the car park outside the morgue, Gail's mood had shifted. If Frankie had intended to distract her by puzzling over the case then it had worked.
'Ah detectives,' Holly smiled widely as they entered the autopsy suite. Gail knew that grin. It meant Holly had found something significant and couldn't wait to share. She was practically buzzing with excitement like one of those wind up toys.
Holly and Dr Chatterjay had arranged the bones neatly on the table and Gail took a moment to survey them. Gone were the days when she'd take a backseat and wait until the pathologist had a result. On that first case they'd worked together, Gail wasn't lying when she told Holly she saw nothing but bones, but somehow Holly's enthusiasm for her work was infectious, and she was a good teacher, and before long Gail had begun to identify more than smelly bones.
'Male,' Gail said. It was a statement rather than a question.
'Indeed and you could tell by?' Dr Chatterjay raised an inquiring eyebrow. His manner was professorial, challenging but g encouraging and Gail imagined this was how he spoke to his students. She didn't mind. The forensic anthropologist liked sharing his knowledge and Gail was willing to learn.
'Pelvis,' Gail said matter of factly
Dr Chatterjay nodded.
'So is it—' Gail started but Holly broke in.
'Mitchell Cormann. The dental records are a match.'
'Wow.'
'Any idea how he died?' Frankie asked. She was always like this, always wanting to cut to the chase. In Gail's experience not just Holly but most forensic pathologists liked to take their time to carefully unfold the story the body on their slab told them.
'Well, this is where it gets interesting,' Holly said. 'See here.' She pointed to the underside of the skull.
'Please tell me an arrow was involved,' Gail said.
Holly's smile grew even wider. 'It's quite possible this type of skull fracture was caused by an arrow. Then again a small knife or even a sharp stone could do this type of damage.'
'Enough to kill Mitchell?' Frankie asked.
'Yep, it was fatal' Holly nodded. 'He could possibly have survived if he'd received immediate attention.'
'What was it that Dr Joseph Howland Bill wrote,' Dr Chatterjay paused. He had a prodigious memory and could recall great slabs of medical texts. He had told Gail it made passing exams in med school easy. 'Arrows inflict wounds "with a fatality greater than that produced by any other weapons— particularly when surgical assistance cannot be obtained".'
'Howland who,' Frankie curled her lip.
It looked like they were in for one of Chatterjay's esoteric ramblings—was it a thing with all forensic nerds Gail mused—and Frankie certainly didn't have the patience for a dissertation.
'Dr Bill served in the Civil War,' Dr Chatterjay explained, paying no heed to Frankie's obvious disinterest. 'He wrote what is still regarded as the definitive account of arrow wounds. It was published in the American Journal of Medical Sciences in 1862.'
'Notes on Arrow Wounds,' Holly said. 'It's still germane today. Dr Bill was ahead of his time.'
'Based on his observations in the field, Dr Bill found that few arrows reached the brain itself but the real danger of a headshot comes from compression of the outer table of the skull. Without medical intervention, cerebral compression can lead to unconsciousness, slowed respirations, high blood pressure, fever, a rapid pulse and eventually death.'
'So you're saying this is how Mitchell Cormann died?' Frankie asked.
'Just that it's a possibility,' Dr Chatterjay said evenly 'We have to keep an open mind at this stage.'
The last bit made Gail smile smugly and she chanced a look at Frankie who rolled her eyes. Whether at Gail or Dr Chatterjay's nerd off it was hard to tell.
'But given the corpse was found at the archery club chances are it was an arrow,' Gail pushed.
'We're working to establish that. It may take some days.' This time Holly's smile was indulgent. She knew, of course, that an arrow fit very nicely with Gail's theory that Len Cormann was a murderer. 'Keep in mind that to penetrate the skull, it would have been shot at close range.'
'And in this case from behind,' Dr Chatterjay added.
'Can we go and talk to Len now,' Gail turned to Frankie. She wasn't exactly demanding, though there was something of the petulant child about her.
'I don't know how you put up with her,' Frankie looked across at Holly and sighed elaborately.
'Well Detective Anderson, I don't think I need to remind you that Gail's instincts are usually good,' Holly said amiably, if anything amused by Gail and Frankie's antics.
'Alright, alright,' Frankie held up her hands. 'The three of you don't have to gang up on me. Coming Peck?' she said as she turned on her heel.
Gail only realised Holly was right behind her when she reached the door. Frankie had stridden ahead and was already halfway down the corridor.
'Everything alright?' Gail asked when she noticed Holly chewing at the corner of her lip.
'Just wondered how this morning went?'
'Oh that,' Gail waved her hand dismissively. Fuck. She definitely didn't want to get into this with Holly now.
'So it was just routine,' Holly asked hopefully.
Now Gail couldn't lie to Holly, who in any case always saw through her subterfuge, but it did seem as though Holly wanted to be reassured that there was nothing to worry about. It wasn't that she was withholding anything from Holly—she just needed to time to get the bottom of this mess first. Although, if Gail's suspicions were correct, and she had a horrible feeling they were, they had every reason to be apprehensive.
'It was annoying,' Gail shrugged. That wasn't a lie. It's just that the interview with Internal Affairs had been a lot more. 'I'll fill you in tonight.'
'Did they give you a hard time?' Holly's brow crinkled with concern.
'Oh you know because I'm police and they're Internal Affairs they have to make sure they dot all the 't's and cross the 'i's,' Gail tried to sound breezy.
'You mean cross the 't's and dot the 'i's.'
'Yeah that's what I said, Holly.'
Holly shook her head and Gail realised that in her agitation she must have got it mixed up. She couldn't help but bite her lip. Holly was sure to realise how flustered she really was. 'Hey, I should go,' Gail pointed ostentatiously in the direction of Frankie's retreating figure. 'You know Anderson hates to be kept waiting.'
Holly didn't say anything but tilted her head to one side and regarded Gail. It was as though she were trying to read something in Gail's face.
'We'll talk about it tonight, okay,' Holly said finally and Gail nodded. She quickly turned to go, relieved at being released from the conversation, but then turned back and kissed Holly softly on the lips.
'You better get to work, nerd,' she said with affected light-heartedness, 'loitering in the corridor—you're not exactly setting an example to your staff.'
Holly's laugh was also forced and Gail cursed herself for being so transparent, at least when it came to Holly. When she reached the end of the corridor, Gail looked back over her shoulder to see Holly hadn't moved from her position in the doorway. Gail smiled uncertainly and gave an awkward little wave. She couldn't quite decipher Holly's expression but if she'd had to describe it, Gail would have said disconcerted.
….
Frankie was already in the driver's seat when Gail climbed into the car but she made no move to turn on the engine. Instead she tapped her thumb against the steering wheel again and looked straight ahead as if something of immense interest had caught her attention outside. All Gail could see was the brick wall of the morgue. Frankie didn't really think they'd ganged up on her did she?
'I've got a proposal, I mean a question to ask you,' Frankie said abruptly, still staring straight ahead.
'Uh, yeah,' Gail said perplexed. Frankie seemed uncharacteristically nervous. Her usual swagger had deserted her and her words came out in a rush. Then Frankie was fumbling in the pocket of her jacket until she pulled out a red velvet ring case. She placed it with deliberate carefulness on the dashboard so it sat an equal distance between she and Gail.
'Go on,' she urged, 'open it.'
'I'm flattered Anderson, but you know I'm spoken for,' Gail said dryly.
'Geez Peck, I'm trying to be serious here. I need your help. How do you think I should propose to Alannah?'
'Propose,' Gail said unable to conceal her astonishment.
'Yeah propose. Just because you and Holly are such commitment phobes doesn't mean the rest of us have to be.'
'Really. You're talking to me about being a commitment phobe,' Gail screwed up her face in disbelief. 'What happened to love them and leave them Anderson?'
'I grew up. So are you going to help me.'
'What makes you think I know anything about proposing?'
'You and Nick almost got married. One of you must have popped the question.'
'Well if you want to be blind drunk and oh hey, thanks for bringing that up.'
'Who asked who?' Frankie pushed.
'Really we're doing this,' Gail looked at her incredulously.
'Doing what?'
'Acting like forever besties. I think you've mistaken me for Price.'
''But you are—' Frankie started and then stopped abruptly, her face suddenly tightly closed off and so sour it was like she had eaten something unbearably tart.
Shit, Gail thought, when did Frankie get so sensitive? If Holly were here she'd point out that Frankie was kind of Gail's best friend. Gail still found that a strange concept, and not simply because it involved Frankie but because until fairly recently she hadn't really entertained the idea of close friends. She sighed. And if Holly were here she'd tell Gail she needed to make more of an effort. And if Gail were honest, increasingly she had been confiding in Frankie and she probably owed her. The wonder of it was that Frankie seemed better at acknowledging their friendship.
'Alright, alright,' Gail conceded. 'We were on a bender and I think it seemed like a good idea at the time—mainly because it would piss off my mother. But to be honest, I can't remember whose idea it was.'
'Not a whole lot of help,' Frankie said sullenly.
'You asked Anderson. Anyway don't you think you're being precipitous? You and Alannah only just back together.'
'You think I'm being rash?'
'Yeah,' Gail drew out the word. 'That is what precipitous means.'
'Alannah is worried I won't commit. What better way to show I'm in it for the long haul.'
'Hmm,' Gail said, 'definitely don't say that when you pop the question.'
'So you think I should?'
'Geez Frankie, don't ask me. I'm no relationship expert but maybe you should give yourselves a bit more time. Get used to being back together. Iron out whatever it is you need to,' Gail paused while she searched for the right word, 'iron, I guess.'
'Maybe,' Frankie said, not sounding in the least convinced. She put the key in the ignition and started the car. 'So ready to talk to Len?'
Gail nodded. Anything was preferable to this discussion. It wasn't even lunchtime and so far today she'd found herself in three conversations she didn't want to have and felt ill equipped to handle.
…
A squad car was parked outside Len Cormann's jewellery store. Odd, Gail thought, until she noticed all the front windows had been smashed in and shards of glass littered the sidewalk. Anna Robinson was putting up crime scene tape, which it transpired was to stop pedestrians walking through the glass rather than because the scene needed to be secured.
'What's the deal, Robinson?' Frankie asked.
'The store was bricked.'
'Anyone hurt?' Gail asked.
'Luckily not. No one was in the shop apart from the shop assistant, Felicity Warren. We haven't had much of a chance to talk to her. She's sitting out back with Chris but she's a bit shaken.'
Frankie nodded. 'Is the owner, Len Cormann, around?'
Anna shook her head. 'No sign of him.'
Gail stuck her head into the shop. All the display cabinets were intact. None of the jewellery appeared to be missing.
'Not a robbery then,' she said, sticking her head back outside.
'Nope. Nothing missing. It appears to be an act of pure vandalism. Felicity said they didn't even come into the shop.'
Felicity Warren looked up with a tear-streaked face. Gail recognised her as the assistant who had complimented on her hands and asked if she'd considered hand modelling.
'Oh god I'm a mess, detectives,' she apologised, clearly recognising Gail and Frankie. She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief that had clearly been supplied by Chris and was now streaked with her black mascara.
'It's totally understandable,' Gail said gently. 'It would have been a shock.'
Felicity nodded.
'Have you contacted Mr Cormann to let him know?' Frankie asked.
Felicity shook her head miserably. 'He hasn't been in for the last two days and he wont return my calls. He had to let go of Cheyne, the other assistant. I think he's going under.' She tried to repress a sob but it came out as a weird sort of hiccup.
'You mean financially?'
'Yeah,' Felicity nodded again. 'When Len didn't turn up yesterday I took a look through his desk. He's behind with all the bills. He owes the landlord, his supplies, and the bank. God even the dry cleaner is after him. He's even taken commissions for jewellery he's never made. I think he's done a runner.'
'Do you think the smashed windows might have something to do with Mr Cormann's debts,' Gail asked.
'I guess,' Felicity said. 'It makes sense.'
'Did you get a look at people who did it?'
'I was out front cleaning the cabinets like I do every morning when it happened. I had my back to the windows so the first I knew of it was the sound of breaking glass and it was so loud and it horrible.' Felicity's voice took on an edge of hysteria and she shut her eyes tight and blindly reached for Chris' hand. Chris, for his part, looked somewhat abashed, and then patted her hand in what he must have thought was a consoling way but was just clumsy and awkward. Felicity opened her eyes and looked at Chris coyly.
Okay, Gail was quite prepared to cut the woman some slack. No question the events of this morning were traumatic but the way she was gazing at Chris was pure badge bunny.
'So you didn't see them?' Gail's voice was less gentle now.
'They had hoods on,' Felicity said, looking at Gail sharply.
Yep, thought Gail, you're milking this for everything it's worth.
'But they looked like two guys who came in to see Len about two weeks ago. Thugs,' Felicity added, shivering then and gripping tightly onto Chris' hand.
'Can you describe them. Did you get names?' Frankie asked.
'I was on my way out as they came in. Len was about to lock up for the night. One looked Chinese. The other was Caucasian. Told them we were closed but Len said it was alright and I didn't think about it again until now.'
'We may need you to work with a sketch artist. See if we can get a facial composite. Would you be willing to do that?' Frankie asked.
'Sure. Is it normal for the police to go to so much trouble over a bunch of vandals.'
'Protect and serve that's our motto,' Gail said, mostly to shut the woman up but she saw both Chris and Frankie smirk.
….
'So Len's done a disappearing act,' Frankie said once they were back in the car.
'Yep. Someone's obviously coming after him.'
'Like Chou you mean?' Frankie said. By now they'd pulled into the station lot.
'Yep.'
'We're going to have to look into it,' Frankie said, 'but whether we can find any one willing to talk. She trailed off and threw out her hands in a gesture of helplessness.
'Traci might have a contact,' Gail said hopefully, happier now that Frankie was willing to consider the Chou angle. 'I'll sound her out.'
'Yeah, she might know the best way to approach this,' Frankie nodded.
To Gail's surprise Oliver was waiting for them as they came through the sally port.
'Ah Peckling,' he said, and the way he spoke, soothingly and yet apologetically made Gail think he had bad news. 'Your mother—ah the Superintendent is here to see you.'
'On official business?' Gail asked.
'She wouldn't say,' Oliver made a rueful face. 'She's waiting in the detective pen.'
Gail nodded.
Elaine hadn't taken a seat but was leaning stiffly against Gail's desk. Dov and Chloe were doing their best to look busy but every now and again they shot a quick glance in Elaine's direction and then just as quickly put their heads back down. True to form her mother was inspiring fear and loathing where ever she went.
'Ah at last,' Elaine said when she caught sight of Gail. She spoke like Gail had been out for a long lunch rather than on a case. Speaking of lunch, Gail realised she hadn't eaten since breakfast and it was getting on into the afternoon. As if on call, her stomach rumbled loudly. Elaine's mouth twitched at the corners in disapproval. 'A private word, detective', she said and turned on her heel. Gail supposed she was meant to follow. One of these days she'd just stay put and see what her mother did then. With a heavy sigh she trailed after Elaine into an empty interrogation room.
'Well,' Elaine said.
'Well what?' Gail replied, feeling like she'd been reduced to a sulky teenager. How did her mother do that?
'How did the interview go this morning?'
'Peachy but you're in Internal Affairs, surely you've seen the transcripts by now.'
Elaine shook her head impatiently. 'I've been told to take, ah, a back seat.'
'When has that stopped you,' Gail scoffed, not quite sure why she was so angry with her mother. It wasn't her fault that Kramer seemed to be gunning for Gail and Holly.
'It was an official warning. Kramer made a complaint.' Elaine stated tersely.
'Oh,' Gail said, and then with more emphasis as the significance of Elaine's admission dawned on her. 'Oh. I see. She doesn't like Pecks.'
'No,' Elaine agreed. 'Plus I passed her over for a promotion so that's compounded the issue.'
'I think she believes Francine's version of events—that I slipped and fell and Holly hit her for no reason,' Gail blurted out. She felt such relief at finally sharing this with someone (even if it was her mother), to say the words out loud rather than mulling them over endlessly in her head. She had kept it from Holly and had felt too overwhelmed to discuss it with Frankie, who probably would have dismissed her fears as paranoia anyway.
'That's definitely Francine's version of events?'
Gail nodded. 'Kramer wouldn't confirm it of course but it looks like it. Well, hers or her lawyer's.'
'That slimy weasel,' Elaine said. In a different situation Gail might have pulled her up on that. After all Elaine had thought the slimy weasel suitable enough to set Gail up with on a blind date. Sometimes Gail wondered whether her mother had dispatched her on dates with reprehensible men so she would finally face up to the fact that she was gay. Elaine had certainly expressed no surprise when Gail came out.
'Francine's alleging Holly and I have conducted a campaign of harassment against her. Holly could lose her job over this, mom,' Gail said.
'Don't worry. I'm going to take care of this,' Elaine said briskly and was out the door before Gail could ask exactly how.
…
When Gail returned to her desk a sandwich was sitting in the middle of it—and not just any sandwich but one of her favourites from a deli just across the road from 15. It had slow-roasted turkey with bacon and caramelised onion, sweet corn mayo, red onion jam and house-made dill pickles on a bread roll that was crusty and soft all at once and which you just couldn't wait to sink your teeth into.
'I figured you'd be hungry,' Chloe said. Gail actually found herself smiling. It was quite possibly the nicest thing that had happened today. She was grateful that no one asked what Elaine wanted. As she took a bite of the sandwich Gail realised Chloe, Dov and even Frankie were looking at her intently.
'Do you losers have such empty lives you have to watch me eat,' Gail said even though she still had a mouthful of sandwich.
'It's not that,' Dov started. He was looking particularly smug and Gail couldn't understand why.
What,' Gail interrupted, 'have I got sauce on my chin or something.'
'Not yet,' Dov said, 'although maybe in the corner of your mouth there.' He pointed to his own mouth to demonstrate. Gail screwed up her face.
'Dov,' Chloe said, hitting him in the arm, 'tell her what you've found.'
'Yeah Dov, tell me what you've found,' Gail parroted.
'I went through the hospital computer records for Malcolm Turner, the patient Gemma Lister supposedly killed.'
'And,' Gail motioned for Dov to keep going with the hand that was not holding the sandwich. She noted that he had used the word supposedly killed not killed.
'You're going to like this,' Frankie said.
'Gemma Lister didn't overlook that Mr Turner was allergic to penicillin. When she administered the penicillin, the warning had been removed from the record. As far as Gemma knew she was doing nothing wrong.'
'Francine removed it.'
'Yep,' Dov nodded, 'we've got the time and date that she logged in to alter the record.'
'And you found this out by recovering data that had been erased?'
Dov nodded again. 'Chloe and I have been at the hospital all morning chasing this up.'
'You know what this means,' Frankie was grinning.
'Francine set Gemma Lister up so she could manipulate her into setting fire to the house.'
'Yep.'
'Wow, now that's two great things that have happened today.'
'What was the first?' Chloe asked.
'The sandwich of course,' Gail beamed, her mood lightening for the first time that day.
After that Frankie and Gail decided to go in search of Len Cormann. Dov and Chloe had arranged to meet Matt Kennedy to give him the new information about Francine.
'Don't talk to Kramer,' Gail advised.
'Why,' Dov asked, 'was she immune to the Gail Peck charm?'
'If she could, she'd arrest me for being a Peck.'
'Oh,' Chloe said in understanding, 'well, with this new information surely Francine will be charged with murder.'
Yeah, if the world was a place where everything was fair, and if whatever forces out there hadn't decided to conspire against she and Holly living an ordinary, trouble-free life, Gail thought glumly, the buoyancy of a moment ago overtaken by the reality that despite their best efforts justice did not always prevail. The idea of growing flowers was becoming increasingly attractive. Then again the plants would probably get some sort of catastrophic blight or aphids or whatever it was that killed off flowers. It wasn't a subject she knew much about. Policing was it really. Born and bred to be in blue.
Cormann wasn't at his apartment. The building super said he hadn't seen him in days.
'Doesn't mean anything though,' the super shrugged. He looked to be in his early sixties with rounded shoulders and a potbelly. The kind of guy who spent more time watching the very large TV crammed into a corner of his office than actually doing his job. 'People come and go at all hours. I don't keep track of everybody. Though I was looking out for Len.'
'Why?' Frankie asked.
'He's seven months behind with the condo fees.'
'Is that unusual for Len?' Gail asked.
'He's lived here ten years and its happened a couple of times before. Len usually always pays up eventually. In the meantime he goes out of his way to avoid me.'
'Did he give a reason for why the fees were late?' Frankie asked.
The super shrugged again. 'If I was a betting man—which I'm not—I'd say Len's the betting man.' He grinned, clearly pleased with his pun, if that's what you could call it.
'A gambler?' Frankie pushed.
'Yep,' the super nodded. 'A couple of times some pretty heavy dudes came round looking for him. I got the feeling he owed them money.'
'Same guys?'
'I think so,' the super said.
'Did you get any names?' Frankie asked.
'These guys weren't the kind for introductions if you get my drift.'
'So can you describe them?'
'Oriental,' the super said.
'You mean Asian?' Gail quirked an eyebrow in annoyance. 'Asia's a big place. Do you think you can narrow it down.'
'They weren't fresh off the boat if that's what you mean,' the super said belligerently.
'No it wasn't what I meant,' Gail sighed heavily, thinking she might just punch the guy if he said all Asians looked the same. 'For example, were they Chinese, Pakistani, Indian, Malaysian, Thai, Korean, Cambodian, Laotian, Indonesian, Filipino?' she said with exaggerated patience.
'If I had to guess, I'd say they were Chinese.'
'But you're not certain.'
'Yeah, yeah Chinks. Definitely.' The super said. He was being deliberately obnoxious. Gail was sure of that. A guy who wore his prejudices with pride.
'You mean they were Chinese Canadian.'
'That's what I said,' the super crossed his arms.
Gail sighed again and rolled her eyes. They couldn't afford to put a witness off side but boy did she feel like giving this bigot a piece of her mind.
'Have you seen these guys here recently?' Frankie asked, through gritted teeth. Clearly Gail wasn't alone in finding the super's bigotry offensive.
'Maybe two weeks ago. I made a joke. I told them if they were after Len for money he owed me first.'
'Yeah, how did they respond?' Gail asked.
'One of them said keep dreaming grandpa.'
The super reluctantly agreed to let Frankie and Gail into Len's apartment. He fussed about the fact they didn't have a warrant, which Gail suspected was payback for calling him on his racism but in the end his curiosity got the better of him, especially after Frankie said they were concerned Len might be the victim of foul play. 'You don't want a rotting corpse to go undiscovered in the apartment for weeks,' she added for good measure.
If they had hoped Len's apartment would yield any clues as to his whereabouts or even his body, Frankie and Gail where sorely disappointed. Like Len's desk at work, the dining table was strewn with unpaid bill reminders, including a letter from the bank saying they had initiated foreclosure proceedings.
Apart from the dining table, everything was neat and orderly. Nothing appeared to be missing from the cupboards or drawers, and there was no evidence Len had hastily packed a bag. Gail noted a well-used archery kit tucked away in the corner of the walk-in robe. A breakfast bowl and coffee cup was stacked in the dishwasher. The refrigerator was fairly well stocked with food, including a carton of milk that expired in two days. Whenever Len had last left home, it seemed he had every intention of returning.
On the way back to the station, Frankie swung by the building site to show Gail where Mitchell Cormann's body had been found. It was nearly 5 pm by the time they pulled into the small lot behind the old archery clubhouse and the light had an indistinct and gloomy quality. With the discovery of a second body, building activity had been shut down indefinitely and the abandoned heavy earth moving machinery looked ghostly in the gathering twilight. Gail found herself shivering involuntarily.
'It is kinda spooky,' Frankie said.
'Who'd want to buy an apartment here now,' Gail wondered. Already the media was taking a prurient interest in the case. No doubt Viacom was in damage control but you'd have to bet the notoriety would put a big dent in the asking price of The Archer apartments, if they ever got built.
Mitchell had been buried about 20 metres away from where Melanie had been found and Gail could make out the yellow police tape that marked out the site of his grave. As they got closer, she made out a figure standing outside the tape. He appeared to be taking photos.
'Stop police,' Frankie yelled, pulling out her gun.
The figure turned and Gail realised it was Costa Dukas, the construction worker who had taken an usual amount of interest in the discovery of Melanie's body and was full of helpful suggestions as to how they might identify who she was.
'Don't shoot,' he almost shrieked, clearly taken by surprise. He held up his hands so the camera, which was strung around his neck, thumped against his narrow chest.
'What are you doing here,' Frankie demanded as they drew level with Costa. His face was ashen and he was still holding his hands above his head even though she'd holstered her gun.
'I left my backpack in the clubhouse and came to get it,' he stuttered, jerking his head to indicate the bag strapped on his back.
'Yeah and then you happened to take a detour past here,' Gail drawled.
'Um, it's a short cut home.'
'So why were you taking photos?' Gail asked.
'I wasn't,' Costa started but Frankie cut in.
'Nice try. Hand it over Dukas.' When he didn't move, Frankie said 'you know you can put your hands down now.'
'Uh yeah,' Costa stuttered and grudgingly gave Frankie the camera. Strange, thought Gail, he'd been almost cocky the day they'd found Melanie Fisher
'Want to give us a reason we shouldn't take you down to the station and question you about this?' Frankie asked.
Costa looked at his feet and twisted his mouth. He might have been in his mid thirties but right now he resembled an awkward adolescent. 'You're not going to believe this,' he said.
'Try us,' Frankie said, her face hard.
'Um, My father teaches forensics. He's a professor. He taught that forensic pathologist who was here earlier. Holly Stewart. He told me she was one of his brightest students.'
'Okay, if that's the case why didn't you introduce yourself to Dr Stewart,' Gail asked.
'That first day when the first body was found, I didn't know until I spoke to my dad later,' Costa shrugged. 'And when Dr Stewart showed this morning, I didn't think it was my place. I'm just a construction worker.'
'This is sounding kinda stalkery.'
'Oh no. That's not me. I've just got an interest in forensics. I've picked up things from my dad. I would have studied it but I dropped out of school. I guess having two bodies turn up on the building site seemed like too good an opportunity to miss if you know what I mean.'
'That's a bit ghoulish,' Frankie said.
'I mean a chance to apply my knowledge.'
'Yeah, so why the photos?' Gail asked.
'I was going to show my dad. You know discuss the case. He's visiting from BC next week.'
'Wait, I thought you said you grew up in this neighbourhood and that your parents still lived here, not BC?'
'I did mainly. My parents divorced when I was ten and Dad got a job at the university in BC. My siblings and me spent holidays with Dad and his new wife but we went too school here. My mom
re-partnered too.'
'You know we're going to have check all of this,' Frankie said. 'And Costa you don't discuss this case with anyone. Even your father. This is an active investigation and I don't want it compromised.'
Costa nodded sheepishly. 'When do I get my camera back?'
'When we're done with it,' Frankie said tartly.
Once they were back in the car, Frankie turned to Gail. 'Do you believe him?'
'I guess it's possible. Holly said she heard Costa was a troubled kid. Maybe now he's just trying to impress his dad.' She turned on the camera and started scrolling through the photos. There were eight in total and all of them of the excavated site. Not that the images told you much. They were too dark for starters. She wondered what Professor Dukas would have made of them. 'Costa was telling the truth about the photos at least.'
'He's got a weird vibe.'
'There is definitely something unusual about him,' Gail agreed, 'but my guess is he's on the autism spectrum. You know super smart but can't cope in the traditional learning environment so drops out of school. Socially awkward. Becomes fixated on this case without realising how inappropriate it makes him look.'
'Makes sense,' Frankie agreed, 'we still have to verify his story.'
Before Gail could reply her phone buzzed. She didn't recognise the number. 'Peck,' she said tersely.
'Ah Gail. Detective Sergeant Kramer. I wonder if you could clear something up for me.'
'Yes,' Gail said, sounding anything but willing to help.
'Did you put pressure on a fellow officer not to book Holly—oh sorry, Dr Stewart for speeding.'
'No,' Gail sighed. 'Do your homework Kramer. Holly practically begged Duncan Moore to give her a ticket. It's on the body cam. You can check. She paid the fine the very next day.'
'So why would Moore do that. Would he have felt pressured in any way?'
'He's a nice guy. Sometimes he gets his wires crossed. He probably thought he was doing the right thing letting Holly off with a warning. He was under the impression she was on the way to a crime scene.'
'Hmm. Would you say your co-workers find you intimidating, Gail?'
'What?' Gail spluttered. 'Kramer if you want to have this conversation bring me back in for an interview. I want all our conversations on the record.'
'I may well do that,' Kramer said and disconnected.
Gail groaned.
'Trouble?' Frankie asked. 'You never told me about the interview.'
Before Gail could reply her phone buzzed again. Elaine. She decided to ignore it. She didn't think she could cope with her mother so soon after speaking with Kramer. Almost immediately the sound of Frankie's phone ringing reverberated through the car speakers and the name 'Superintendent Peck' flashed up on the console screen.
'Fuck, you better answer it,' Gail groaned again.
'Superintendent,' Frankie said evenly.
'Is Gail with you?' Elaine asked without bothering to greet Frankie.
'Yeah.'
'I've got bad news. Francine's lawyer has managed to convince a judge to release her on bail.'
'But I thought she was having a psych evaluation?' Gail said, doing her best not to sound alarmed.
'She got the all clear,' Elaine said tightly. 'Where is Holly?'
'Um, probably at the morgue or on her way home.'
'Best you go be with her, Gail. Detective Anderson, I'm counting on you to stay with Gail and Holly.'
'Sure,' Frankie started to say but Gail interrupted.
'Frankie can't guard us indefinitely,' she objected. Gail could practically hear her mother purse her lips in annoyance.
'Just until this sorted out. I want an officer with you and Holly at all times.' Then Elaine rang off.
'Fuck, fuck, fuck,' Gail said.
'We better go find Holly,' Frankie said, diplomatically ignoring Gail's outburst.
….
Holly was still at the morgue. She seemed delighted when Gail phoned to say she was coming to collect her. Gail decided it was best not to tell Holly why until she saw her. 'I'm in the second lab,' Holly told Gail, 'I'm just about finished up.'
Gail didn't say anything during the 20-minute ride to the morgue. She felt like the tension had rolled off her and filled the cabin of the car so it was almost suffocating. Like a big mass of jelly that just continued to solidify. There seemed no end to this nightmare. She was grateful Frankie didn't try and reassure her that everything was going to be okay.
'You are so going to thank me,' Holly crowed as Gail and Frankie strode through the door. She was practically levitating.
'Yeah,' Gail said cautiously.
'We've been going though the soil samples we took form around Mitchell's body and guess what I found?'
'An arrow,' Gail said, not meaning to be sarcastic but that's the way it came out. She blamed it on Francine and the tension blob.
Holly looked at her quizzically but continued. 'Good as. It's a nock.' She held up a clear evidence bag. Inside was a small piece of plastic that Gail recognised as belonging to an arrow.
'A nock?' Frankie asked.
'It's the slotted plastic tip located on the rear end of the arrow. It snaps onto the string and holds the arrow in position,' Holly explained.
'And you know this how?' Gail asked, so caught up in the fact that Holly was on to something that she forgot her anxiety. 'Were you an archer in another life? Hey, maybe you were some badass female warrior like Boudicca.'
'I googled it, Gail' Holly shook her head in amusement. 'Anyway I think Boudicca used a spear.'
'Oh right,' Gail said, not for the first time wondering at the breadth of Holly's knowledge. 'But the nock was recovered from an archery club. It could have come from any arrow and not necessarily the one that killed Mitchell.'
'If he was killed by an arrow,' Frankie reminded Gail.
'Juries still out on that,' Holly nodded, 'however this nock was found in the soil sample that was taken directly from beneath Mitchell's skull. Chances are it had something to do with his death.'
Any way we can trace the type of arrow it came from?' Frankie said.
'We're working on that,' Holly smiled, 'but it should be possible.' She pulled off her gloves. 'I guess it's time to head home. Nice to have a police escort.' She looked from Gail to Frankie. 'Want to explain why.'
…..
'I knew you were holding out on me this morning,' Holly said to Gail.
It was much later and they were in their room. They had eaten dinner with Frankie and Alannah, during which the main topic of conversation was of course Francine's release. When Gail got up to clear the dishes, Alannah had shooed her away. 'You guys need a break after a day like today,' she said and Gail managed a weak but grateful smile. Frankie put on a movie—some lightweight comedy—but it didn't hold Gail's attention. When she saw Holly was equally distracted, she suggested an early night. For once Frankie didn't make a wise crack.
Holly was already in bed and watched as Gail stripped off.
'Are you ogling me,' Gail teased. She was deflecting and she knew it. How to tell Holly that Madeline Kramer might be about to destroy Holly's career and probably Gail's too if she could manage that.
'Maybe,' Holly replied.
Gail arched an eyebrow.
'Okay, a little.'
The eyebrow shot up again.
'Okay totally,' Holly confessed and they both laughed. Holly winced though when Gail unclipped her gun and put it on the nightstand.
'Sorry,' Gail said quietly, all levity forgotten. 'And sorry about this morning—I didn't want to worry you. I wanted to—.' Before Gail could finish there was an urgent tapping on the door.
'Is it okay to come in,' Frankie said, sounding breathless like she'd run up the stairs.
'Sure,' Gail said, quickly pulling on a t-shirt as Frankie opened the door. She was gripping her phone and Gail couldn't work out her expression, mostly because she'd never seen Frankie look like this before.
'Francine Hart was hit by a bus downtown two hours ago,' she said without preamble.
'What,' Holly said.
'Is she okay?' Gail asked.
'She's dead.'
Now Gail understood that Frankie's expression was in fact a mixture of shock and disbelief because her own mirrored it.
