Mattie gripped the wet railing, the cold metal biting her skin, and traipsed down the stairs leading into Market Square. Steady rain wet the pavement and darkened an already dark night. By ten p.m., only shadows hunkered against the buildings dating back to the late 1800’s. Victoria was not only tourist central because of its recreation of old England. Ghost hunters sought out regular paranormal sightings.
The saloons and brothels were long gone from Victoria’s core, but historians recorded in great detail how the town was built from the paychecks of men who frequented the establishments during the gold rush. The most famous ghosts in Market Square being Charlie Kincaid, whose throat had been slit, and his girlfriend, Belle Adams, who’d committed the crime out of a jealous rage. Old Charlie had announced he was dumping his sex-trade working girlfriend and heading to Vancouver with a new gal. Poor old Charlie never left a nearby hotel alive. In a city exploding with a puritanical population, Victoria had a very lively and robust red light district back in the day.
The Square seemed kind of pitiful to Mattie at this time of year. There was an Indian cuisine take-out window. A vegan restaurant and a couple small tourist shops. The square didn’t have the energy the rest of Victoria’s tourist area exuded.
At this time of night and being November, no one ventured here. One end of the yellow crime scene tape had come undone from a nearby bench and snapped at the mercy of the cold wind. Keeping alert, she walked in that direction. She didn’t expect whoever killed Diana to return.
Half of Market Square was covered by a high roof and protected the dark bloodstain where Diana’s body had been found, from the rain. Mattie stared and then knelt. Her fingers traced one edge of the unmistakable void. It ran between where Diana’s neck had probably been, down to the end of her torso. Constable Yates, Mattie’s police contact, said the victim had been cut from thorax to groin. Some of her organs had been removed and placed beside her.
Diana had been romantically involved with a doctor. He’d be the first person Mattie would have investigated. The police had brought him in for questioning but released him based on the fact he had witnesses. The hospital staff vouched for his whereabouts the night Diana was murdered.
Mattie sniffed and rubbed her runny nose. Turning on her heel, she viewed the entrance to the square. From this position, she couldn’t see the stairs leading to Pandora Street, or the covered breezeway that led to the parking lot behind the square. How had Diana gotten here in the first place? The gates were normally locked at that time of night.
Diana had worked at the Royal Jubilee Hospital. As a nurse, she had two day shifts followed by two night shifts. The police still didn’t have an answer to exactly how she disappeared. Constable Yates said Diana wasn’t a partier. She worked and had some close friends. An upstanding young woman who paid her bills on time, didn’t have bad habits nor connections to any seedy characters. She loved to read and spend time with her extended family. She’d been taken four days before being found here.
The sound of footsteps palpitated Mattie’s heart and she whirled around.
“Hey, lady. You got spare change? Need some food.”
“Sure.” She pulled a couple toonies from her pocket and placed them in the homeless man’s gloved hand. The mittens only covered his aged fingers to the first joint, revealing yellow nails and a hard life.
He mumbled his thanks, then coughed with a wet, congested bark.
“Do you hang out here a lot?” she asked.
He nodded, his eyes partially covered by the wool hat pulled low over his ears.
“Did the police talk to you about what happened here?”
He shook his head. “I hid.” He coughed again and then spit.
“From the police? Or…” she paused. “Or while it was happening?” Her heart galloped with hope that she had just found a lead.
“I’m hungry,” he mumbled.
She waited for him to answer the question. Slowly, he raised his weary eyes to her. “Both.”
Mattie unzipped a side pocket on her purse and pulled the first bill she touched. She held the twenty out to him. “Please, tell me what you saw.”
His hand trembled as he reached for the bill, as if he thought it might be a trick and she’d pull it away.
“Take it.”
“They brought her in here. She was scared.”
Mattie’s heart pumped a notch faster. “They?”
“Two of ‘em,” he gruffed.
Two of them! Two killers. “Can you describe them?”
“Black coats. Warm coats.” Attacked by a coughing fit, he stopped, wiped his mouth, and looked at her.
“Tall? Short?”
“One was tall, dark hair. Big guy.”
Mattie didn’t like where this was going. It sounded like Greg. “And the other?”
“Shorter, not by much.”
“What kind of coat?”
“Wool, somethin’ a rich guy has.”
A rich guy would be a relative term, based on his status in life. “Could you hear them? Did they talk?”
“Didn’t say much.” The old man shuffled as if a little antsy to get away from her.
She dug in her purse and pulled out a ten. “Please, what did you hear?”
The old man took the ten. “Taller one had a voice like sandpaper. Said something like, he had no choice. Said he’d gone for a drink and thought about it.”
Sounded like a psychopath to her. It also worried her because Lieutenant Commander LaPierre had sat for hours in the Irish Times deep in thought, mostly ignoring the beautiful women who’d tried to pick him up.
The old man’s eyes, sunken and etched with broken blood vessels, gazed at her. “She said something like he’d deceived her. For a minute, I think she thought he’d let her go.” He pointed at the ground. “He was fast. Slit her throat and then laid her down and started cutting her up.”
“What did the other guy do?”
“Watched. Smiled.”
Mattie sniffed, the cold wind made her nose drip faster.
“He hummed to himself while he was doing it.”
That had a creepy sound to it. “Did you recognize the song?”
The homeless man nodded. “When I was a lad back in Britain, me father taught us sea shanties when he was home. Recognized the tune right off.”
She blinked away the rain. “What was it?”
“The Black Ball Line.”
She didn’t know the words to the song. She’d have to look them up later. “The police found a knife near her body.”
The old man nodded. “They got interrupted. Didn’t think they heard them youngins coming, they was both intent on their bloody work. The guy cuttin’ hummed while the other watched on his knees. When them kids came into the square, they saw each other and the men ran, ducking their heads beneath the collar of their coats.
“Which way did they go? Through the breezeway or up the stairs?”
“Back toward the parking lot. The gates are locked on Johnson Street and in the breezeway after eleven. He must have had a key and left it open when he and the other fella ran. Kids didn’t know what was going on until the boys ventured a closer look.”
“So the murderers didn’t mean to leave the knife?”
“No, ma’am. Don’t think so. His hands were busy pullin’ out her innards when they got interrupted.
“Did you see either of their faces?”
“Not really. Both white, I can tell ye that.”
“Age?”
“They weren’t old. Not the way they run outta here. Maybe in their thirties.”
“How many kids interrupted them?”
“Four. Probably been drinking at the bar. They was loud and laughing, least until they saw her body. They backed away pretty fast, the boys grabbing their terrified girlfriends.”
Mattie’s brow scrunched together concentrating on the blood stain again. The forensics team must have seen the voids if both men kneeled next to the body. “Thanks. Go get something to eat and something for that cough.”
He nodded and began to trundle off. “Lady?”
She looked up.
“They was enjoying what they was doin’.”
She swallowed thickly. “If I gave you my number, I don’t suppose you could find a phone and call me if you ever see them again?”
The old boy thought about it for a second. “You buy me dinner again?”
She nodded and pulled a card from her pocket, and he tucked it into one of the many on his tattered coat.
Mattie surveyed the windows in the buildings facing the square. No one lived in any of the old apartments on the second floor, so no one could confirm what the old man had just told her, but those four kids could. Two killers. It was rare, but not unheard of. Standing in the rain, she let out a deep breath wishing Diana’s apparition would appear.
Two men bring Diana here. Did they know her? Maybe she’d been in the wrong place at the right time. Maybe she’d gone out for milk or muffins one night, and they’d taken her. Diana’s boyfriend, the doctor, had been working night shifts, which gave him an alibi.
The old man had just given fresh wind to her investigation, but it carried a migrating flock of questions with it, and it didn’t necessarily clear Lieutenant Commander LaPierre.
Mattie turned to look at the stain and startled, then let out a little laugh as the seagull squawked and flapped his wings, his webbed feet standing dead center of the morbid reminder. The city was famous for its ghosts, turn of the century hangings, and now a Victorian killing re-enacted in a city reminiscent of England. She shivered against a gust of moist wind. There were no more answers here.
She walked briskly up the breezeway that led to the small parkade behind the market. When she reached the parking lot, she turned in a circle, hoping to see a security camera. The lot didn’t have many spaces. With a steep slope from the road to the breezeway, Mattie’s thighs burned walking to the ticket machine. She jotted down the number of the company that ran the lot. Maybe they’d done their rounds during the time the car had been parked here or maybe a roving attendant had seen something. Yet, at that hour of the morning, it was unlikely anyone came around. She’d call and find out. Hoofing it up the incline of Pandora Street, where she’d parked her car, she looked forward to a much needed hot bath.
After parking in the underground garage of her complex, she popped the trunk and lifted her laptop case wedged beside the spare tire. She and Mary had been roomies in UVIC University of Victoria while working toward their degrees. When they graduated, leasing a place together seemed like a good idea. That was eleven years ago. They’d moved four times. Every time one of them got a better job, they moved a little closer to an ocean view. They were both thirty-three and both had good-paying jobs, but affording oceanfront in Victoria Harbour was way past their pay grade. They’d leased this condo from a Japanese guy who owned it but lived overseas and wanted long term residents. It overlooked the Coast Guard base and an open view to the harbour.
Mattie fumbled with her keyring till she separated the little gold key for the post box and retrieved their mail. Mary never picked up the mail nor took out the trash, but more times than not, Mattie would come home late and there would be a plate of dinner left for her in the oven. They took care of each other that way.
Mattie’s brothers lived in Alberta. Both had joined the RCMP like their father. Charlie, her oldest brother, married last year. Connor still liked a different girl in his bed on the weekends. Mattie’s parents left town for six months of the year snow-birding in Arizona. They’d just left at the beginning of October and wouldn’t return until April. Mary’s folks retired in Sooke, and that’s where Mattie had spent the last five Christmases.
Mattie ran the three flights of stairs to her condo and slipped the key in the door. Pushing it open, she listened for a minute, relieved no one was howling for God.
Mary’s beau worked for the RCMP, not the Victoria city police. Like many of the bigger cities in Canada, Victoria had their own force. The RCMP, however, reigned supreme over other smaller cities in the outlying reaches, like Langford, Colwood, or Sidney. The RCMP and the city cops were always jiving each other but when it came to law enforcement, both were dedicated to bringing in the bad guys.
She plopped her bag on the table and peeled off her soaked leather jacket, hanging it in the bathroom. Still no sounds from down the hall. Maybe they’d gone out on the town? Mary and her huge boyfriend had become a regular item for the past six months.
Stooping in front of the oven, her prayers were answered with a plate covered in tin foil on the middle rack. Using a pot holder, she pulled it out. Flipping up an edge, she sniffed the goodness. Mary had gone all out for Brandon. He wasn’t a bad guy for being a cop. He loved his fitness. Mary wasn’t fussy about increasing her cardio, instead she power-shopped as a national sport. Brandon liked camping. Mary wanted room service.
Mattie chuckled to herself. No matter their differences, everyone agreed Mary was a great cook, and she filled her mouth with a piece of steak and groaned, her stomach joining in.
Pouring a glass of red, she looked up when the front door cracked opened.
“Oh my, God, heyeee!” Mary squealed as she walked in with one big ass cop on her tail.
“Hi, guys!” she greeted, refuelling her glass.
“Honey!” Mary took the wine bottle from her and put it down on the counter.
Mattie had to stop herself from protruding a bottom lip. She’d earned that glass of wine. Brandon took a position behind Mary and he wore a sublime grin on his face, but his eyes pretty much said it all. Mattie closed hers. She knew this day would come.
“Guess what?” Mary said, giving her the sweetest smile.
“Mmm, well let me think. You’ve either won the LottoMax, a shopping spree worth ten grand at the Uptown Mall or,”—she paused and looked at both their faces—“big badass cop Brandon just asked you to marry him.”
“Yes,” Mary crooned.
“To which one?” she teased, sneaking her wine glass back and downing a big gulp to settle her heartbeat.
“June.” Mary looked so happy, Mattie wanted to hurl. “I wanted to tell you now because,” she stalled, looking a little sheepish, “I’m moving into his place in Dean Park next month.”
“Woo, Dean Park, huh. Nice!”
Brandon had inherited a house in Dean Park from his grandparents. He’d completed a reno, bringing it into the 21st century. The upscale neighborhood with large properties scattered up a hillside all pretty much had ocean views. Some you had to stretch your neck a little, but according to Mary, Brandon’s back deck sported a full 180 degree view of Haro Strait.
“I’m so happy for you. Shall we celebrate with a glass of wine?”
Brandon lifted his arm, revealing an expensive bottle of Cab. “When you’re finished with the cheap stuff, we’ll celebrate.”
Mattie wolfed down her dinner and drank one more glass to toast their engagement. “Guys, I’m going to take a hot bath. Been a long day.”
“You kind of look like a drowned rat. What were you up to? Thought you were working late at the Colonist?” Mary asked.
“I was, but I had a late interview and then I went to…” she eyed Brandon. “I went to Market Square.”
Brandon’s baritone chuckle followed. “Don’t think the Vic PD can solve the case without you, eh?”
Mary tossed a don’t go there look at her fiancé.
Mattie’s humor gauge had broken since Stuart ditched her, and her boss had pulled the rug from under her feet. Her whole life seemed to revolve around cops these days, even in her time off. Sometimes, their attitudes shortened her fuse. “I don’t know, doesn’t look to me like they have yet.”
Brandon’s alpha cop showed itself with a cocky grin. “They have someone in custody.”
She took another slow sip from her glass. “They do. The wrong man.”
“And your detective skills tell you this, how?” he asked, all with a ‘you don’t know what you’re talking about because you don’t wear a badge’ face on.
She set the glass down. “Brandon, you trying to tell me law enforcement have never arrested an innocent man?”
He stared at her, but kept his jaw clamped shut.
Might have been because Mary had a grip on his wrist and was pulling him from the kitchen. “We’ll talk tomorrow okay, honey?”
She refrained from going into an all-out debate about law enforcement being staffed by human beings and thus some had faults, then realized she would sound like Edgar, and that wasn’t the case. “Guess you don’t want to elope, huh?”
“Nope.” Mary took her glass of wine and her fiancé with her. “This girl only plans to get married once.”
Obviously, Mary didn’t know the stats on cops and divorce rates. She should, since she worked for the Victoria PD. That’s how they’d met. The RCMP often conversed with the Vic PD. Mary worked in their victims’ counselling unit and Brandon worked in a special division where he’d visit schools and give speeches to the kids. With twenty years on the force, he’d been a traffic cop and done several other stints, but he was really good with the teenagers, according to Mary.
“Talk to you in the morning.” Mattie eyed Brandon. “Good night, Mr. Bekkett,” she said, using Mary’s last name instead of his.
He gave her a critical brow raise, but reserved comment.