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Lane leaned forward to take a closer look.

  “More than a suggestion of something sexual there. And, by the placement of the letters and the arrow, I’d say it’s gender specific.” Malcolm looked at Lane.

  “You’re saying it’s sexual?” Lane asked.

  “It’s certainly open to that interpretation.” Malcolm nodded his head toward Harry, indicating that she should take a look.

  Lane moved to his left. Harry stood between Lane and Malcolm. Harper joined them.

  “Crotch shot,” Harry said.

  “What would be the point of that kind of message?” Harper asked.

  “Don’t know,” Malcolm said.

  “But it’s definitely there,” Harry said.

  “Are you in the habit of finishing each other’s sentences?” Lane smiled.

  “Yes,” Malcolm said.

  “All the time,” Harry said.

  “How come you know so much about graffiti art?” Lane asked.

  “I was into it for a few years. It’s how Harry and I met.” Malcolm leaned back in his chair.

  “Whose is this?” Harper pointed at the photo.

  “Not sure,” Malcolm said.

  “But you have an idea,” Lane said.

  Malcolm nodded.

  “It may help us solve a murder.” Harper stepped back.

  “The girl in the dumpster?” Harry asked.

  Malcolm made eye contact with Harry.

  “She was an only child. The wall in her parents’ house is covered with landmarks of her life,” Harper said.

  A hit! Lane thought. Harper, you’ve got them!

  Malcolm looked at Harry. She lifted her chin. Her eyes filled with tears.

  Malcolm held out his hand. “You got a card? I’ll ask around. You might start by talking with Leo. He knows the area.”

  “Leo?” Lane asked.

  “Don’t know his last name,” Harry said.

  “He’s been in the Kensington area for more than ten years,” Malcolm said. “Kind of an institution.”

  “How will we recognize this Leo?” Harper asked.

  Malcolm looked at Harry. They both laughed. “Can’t miss him,” Harry said.

  ×

  “What now?” Lane asked.

  “McTavish just called. He wants us to meet him in Kensington.” Harper waited for Lane to close the car door.

  Lane handed Harper a coffee. “What does he have?”

  “Another message on a dumpster. Says we need to see it.” Harper waited for Lane to buckle up, put on his signal light, and turned west onto 20th Avenue and south at the elementary school.

  Lane thought, How come we’re always playing catch-up?

  “What are you thinking?” Harper drove under the lrt bridge and past Riley Park.

  “We’ve got to get a jump on this case instead of always trying to catch up. It looks like there’s only one way to do that.”

  “What’s that?” Harper asked.

  “You’re not going to like it.”

  Harper turned west onto Kensington, then left down a back alley. A blue and white cruiser was parked in front of a blue dumpster at the back of Pages Books. McTavish had finished taping off the alleyway to traffic. He waited while Lane and Harper parked and exited their vehicle.

  “Think there’s something here for you.” McTavish pointed to his left at the blue dumpster which sat up against a fence faded grey by wind, rain, sun, and winter. Lane spotted the image, then ducked under the tape, being careful where he put his feet. He stood about a metre away from the dumpster. Most of the image was in red. The name “Towers” was wrapped in a web. A spider approached, ready to devour the name wrapped in nearly transparent white silk. Lane looked closely at the spider’s eyes. They were composed of pairs of ones and zeroes.

  Harper had the digital camera in his hand and began to snap shots from a variety of angles.

  “What do you make of the eyes?” Lane asked.

  “No idea,” McTavish said.

  Harper shrugged. “Binary?”

  “What?” Lane looked closer at the spider.

  “You know, a series of ones and zeroes. Computer language.” Harper looked at the back of the digital camera to check the images.

  Lane walked around one side and then the other. He looked for something to stand on.

  “I already checked inside. It’s empty.” McTavish picked up a four-litre paint can he’d found across the alley. “Take a look if you like.”

  Lane thought, We get more questions than answers from the person who is doing these tags. “I’ll wait for forensics,” he said.

  Ninety-five minutes later, Lane, Harper, and McTavish went around the corner and across the street to the coffee shop.

  “Bryan’s probably in the back,” Harper said as Lane ordered and McTavish found them a table.

  “You two always this upscale?” McTavish asked.

  “What do you mean?” Harper asked.

  Lane looked at the young woman operating the espresso machine while he listened to McTavish and Harper.

  “I mean you pay twice what I pay for a cup of coffee.” McTavish smiled.

  “We like to get to know the people who run the coffee shops. It gets to be like a pipeline.” Harper looked to see if Lane was going to jump in.

  You’re doing just fine, Lane thought.

  “Oh.” McTavish didn’t look convinced.

  “Like the other day…” Harper looked at Lane. “Kul-deep.”

  “What?” McTavish leaned back as their coffees arrived. His leather belt creaked.

  Harper asked, “Bryan around?”

  The young woman in black answered, “I’ll get him for you.”

  Lane smiled at the thought of the first sip of coffee.

  “Junkie,” McTavish smiled.

  Lane and Harper looked at him.

  “You’re hooked on this stuff.” McTavish lifted his cup in a toast to caffeine.

  Lane took his first sip, put the cup down, and smacked his lips. He gave Harper a sideways glance. “You were saying?”

  “How come Kuldeep won’t go to the dentist next door?” Harper asked.

  “Good question,” Lane said.

  “Who’s the dentist?” McTavish asked.

  “Rockwell Sedation Dentistry.” Harper lifted his coffee.

  “Let me check, but I think I heard something about that place. Two dentists, right?” McTavish looked at the wall beside the fireplace, trying to remember.

  “That’s right.” Harper pulled the palm-sized computer from his pocket.

  “The price of coffee’s getting to look more and more like a bargain when it comes to information,” McTavish said.

  And I was beginning to think we were at a dead end, Lane thought.

  Bryan stepped up to the table, wiping his hand with a dishtowel and sporting a new diamond stud in his left nostril. “What’s up?” He looked around the table and skipped over McTavish.

  “He’s okay,” Lane said.

  “Just never met him before,” Bryan said.

  “I trust him,” Harper said.

  Bryan shrugged as if to say, “I’ll make up my own mind.”

  “We’re looking for a graffiti artist named Leo.” Lane looked over the rim of his cup as he sipped.

  Bryan shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

  “What are we asking?” Harper glanced across the table at Lane.

  “Leo’s kind of a hero around here. Remember when the premier got drunk and went after those homeless people down at the shelter? Leo made it news while the local papers kept the story on the back pages. Leo talked with the homeless guys who sell papers on the street. Got the story from them. Leo’s version turned out to be more accurate than the ones on tv and in the newspapers. Leo painted tags and political cartoons on the windows of different shops, including this one. Got lots of people talking about the homeless and what an arrogant ass the premier was. Some of the business owners got upset. Some forgot about it after the rain
washed away Leo’s stuff. He uses water-soluble paints.” Bryan turned to McTavish. “Some of the businesses got the police out to go after the graffiti artists. All I know is that whenever Leo comes in here for a coffee, he never gets the money for it out of his own pocket. Someone always pays for his coffee. If I told you how to find Leo,” Bryan looked around at the patrons who were quietly listening in, ”I’d lose most of my customers.”

  ×

  “Saturday night?” Lane sat in the front room in an easy chair. He reached for the beer on the coffee table.

  “You said you’d come. Matt’s coming too. So’s Uncle Arthur.” Christine plopped onto the couch and tucked her legs up under her backside.

  Lane watched Christine closely. I wonder if she’ll ever figure out how beautiful she is? he thought.

  “Well?” Christine’s voice was like steam in a kettle — evidence of something below the surface ready to boil over.

  Lane kept his voice low and soft in an attempt to prevent that from happening. “Of course I’ll go with you. Maybe we should go out for dinner as well. Where is this going to happen?”

  Christine glared at him.

  She just wants to fight with someone, anyone. She’s stressed, and a fight would be a release, he thought.

  “The Red and White Club.” She dropped the words like a challenge.

  “At the stadium?” Lane realized he’d allowed a bit of surprise to creep into his voice.

  “So? What’s the problem?” Christine seemed to be tensing the muscles in her arms and back.

  “No problem.” Are you kidding? Isn’t it obvious why I wouldn’t want to go there? That place is a bastion for macho sportsmen and I’m very far from being one of them, he thought.

  “I can tell you want to say something. You think I shouldn’t do this, don’t you?” Christine sagged into the couch.

  “I’m worried.”

  “About what?” Christine waited for the bad news.

  “About you getting hurt if you do go. And, if you don’t go to see him, you’ll always wonder. I understand that you need to go. You already know all of this! It’s why you’re so stressed.” Lane reached for his beer and took a sip. Maybe this will shut me up!

  “Shit.” Christine closed her eyes. “I can’t sleep. I can’t stop thinking about it and how it will turn out.”

  Lane nodded.

  “It’s my father. You know?”

  Yes I do know. That’s the problem. My father gave up on me a long time ago, he thought.

  “You’ll be there, right?”

  Lane nodded. “I will. And we’ll go for dinner. There’s a great Vietnamese restaurant I’ve been wanting to take you to.”

  THURSDAY, MAY 8

  chapter 9

  Football Looks to Past Heroes

  Flagging ticket sales have encouraged Stampeders management to call on famous players from the past. Bobbie ‘Go Long’ Green will be the featured speaker at the Red and White Club.

  This Saturday-night event will celebrate Green’s stellar season as a wide receiver before he went south for a record-setting career in the nfl.

  chapter 10

  “Maddy?”

  She turned around in the empty high-school hallway as she passed the front door of the office. “Mr. Herrence.” She took in his fifty-year-old paunch and his black pompadour, wondering, not for the first time, if his hair was real.

  “I’ve been wanting to talk with you. Do you have a minute?” Mr. Herrence put his right hand out, directing her toward the Student Services office.

  “I’m kind of busy,” Maddy said.

  “Only a minute. I promise.” Mr. Herrence smiled, revealing whitened teeth.

  Maddy hefted her backpack. “Okay.” In the waiting room, the secretary wore short grey hair and a red blouse. She smiled at Maddy as Maddy followed Mr. Herrence into his office.

  “Please, sit down.” He closed the door, and sat behind his desk.

  Maddy looked out the window, and then at the travel photos on the wall. Mr. Herrence was in each one. She put her bag down and sat.

  “There’s been a concern expressed, so I thought I’d talk with you face-to-face.” He smiled.

  Maddy felt a growing sense of dread. Not more pictures. I don’t think I could handle that again.

  “You take your little sister to daycare every morning and pick her up every day after kindergarten.”

  Where is he going with this? “So?”

  “You’re often seen with her in Kensington on the weekends.” Herrence tapped his lower lip with his forefinger.

  Maddy nodded.

  “A concern has been expressed that your little sister may be, in fact, your daughter.” He leaned back in his chair, obviously pleased with himself, waiting for her reaction.

  Maddy concentrated on breathing. “Who thinks Andrea is my child?”

  “I can’t disclose that.”

  Maddy’s rage was as instantaneous as it was shocking. “You arrogant asshole! You did this same thing to me when you asked me about the pictures on the net. You wouldn’t tell me who found them.”

  Herrence’s face turned red.

  “It was you, wasn’t it?” Maddy stood, certain of what she had just uncovered.

  Herrence’s face got redder. “Keep your voice down.”

  “You told me that it was just between us! That no one else would know. But all the teachers, they knew somehow. All of those comments behind their hands. Those eyes watching me. It was you who told them, wasn’t it?” She saw his eyes open wide at the direct hit she’d scored with one sudden insight. “You asshole!”

  Herrence said, “Calm down!”

  Maddy reached for the door.

  “Wait!” Mr. Herrence reached to grab her arm.

  Maddy yanked open the door. “Don’t you touch me, you bastard! How can you do things like this and live with yourself? You pretend to be all concerned, and then you spread gossip all over the school!” She stepped outside and slammed the door. There was momentary silence. She looked around her. The secretary gave Maddy the thumbs-up.

  Maddy looked to her left. Two students sat waiting, their eyes and mouths wide open. Maddy turned back to the secretary. “I forgot my bag.”

  The secretary smiled. “I’ll get it for you.”

  Maddy waited in the hall just outside of the office, heart pounding, skin tingling. People walked past chatting, totally unaware of the explosive epiphany that had just occurred on the other side of the wall.

  The door opened. The secretary stepped out. She held out Maddy’s black bag. “Here you go. And thanks.”

  “Thanks?” Maddy took the bag.

  “I’ve wanted to say that to him for years. Never had the nerve. Glad you did!” The secretary smiled before going back inside.

  Maddy looked around to see if there had been any witnesses to the conversation. None came forward. She walked down the hall to the library.

  ×

  “Is there any other option?” Harper’s jacket hung off the back of his chair as he sat across from Lane. They were in a one-window office with two chairs and a table.

  “We have to start by checking out James Sanders’ alibi. If he is, as I suspect, innocent, then we have to verify where he was the night Jennifer disappeared.” Lane sketched ideas on a broad sheet of white paper.

  Harper tapped the keys on his laptop. He looked over the top of the screen. “Then why did he run?”

  “Perhaps because he’s the most obvious suspect. And, if he’s innocent, then we jumped to the wrong conclusion because he ran. So, we’ve got to either confirm or eliminate him as a suspect. That means checking out the sports bar.” Lane put Jennifer’s name at the centre of his diagram and sketched out an approximation of the message on the dumpster that lead them to her body.

  “What about Kuldeep? She’s telling less than she knows.”

  Lane drew a circle to one side and put Kuldeep’s name in it. “We need to take a close look at the dentists. I’ll have to get in touch wi
th McTavish if we don’t hear from him today.”

  Harper looked at the wall behind Lane’s head. “We have to track down the person tagging the dumpsters. I’m beginning to think you were right about that one.”

  “What do you mean?” Lane looked up from his sketch of a dumpster.

  “There are too many questions. That means we have to spend some nights hanging around Kensington, drinking coffee, and watching for someone who paints messages on dumpsters.” Harper scratched the side of his face. “Erinn’ll be thrilled about that. She still hasn’t gotten over us getting shot at.”

  Lane sat up a little straighter as he was hit by a flashback of blood seeping through a towel.

  “I would have paid to see what happened after I dropped you off at the Animal Shelter to meet Roz for the first time. I mean those painkillers really had you goin’.” Harper smiled, waiting for a reply.

  Lane yawned. “We can’t forget about Jennifer’s parents. They deserve some answers. That means we really do have to start from the beginning.”

  ×

  “You think I’m supposed to talk to you about my customers?” Kuldeep put her hands on her hips. A washcloth hung from her right hand. She looked around the coffee shop, at its lonely tables and chairs and the rearranged stack of newspapers waiting for the next patrons. The mid-morning sky was clear and blue, intensifying Kuldeep’s features and accentuating her anxiety.

  Lane watched Kuldeep’s eyes. They were black with anger. “Where else can we go for information?” he asked. “You’re right next door. You listen to the patients who drop in here. You knew Jennifer.”

  Kuldeep shot him a glare of uncut rage.

  Lane felt like stepping back. Instead, he moved forward half a step. From behind him, he sensed Harper’s silent reinforcement.

  Kuldeep flicked her washcloth out to the side. It snapped the quiet from the coffee shop. A shaft of sunlight illuminated a cloud of moisture. “You think I don’t care about Jennifer? You think I don’t worry about my daughter? What am I going to do if I talk and go out of business? Who’s going to put my kids through school?”

  Harper’s laughter began as a chuckle. Lane stepped to one side and turned.

  Harper held his left hand over his mouth. His eyes were large. Tears gathered at the corners.