Part 29 (1/2)
”I think you're both kind of cute, huddling over that plan. What's going in this year, an olive grove?”
”Don't be ridiculous.” Orwell wouldn't have been surprised. Last year it was a nuttery. ”This year we will have a pond.”
”With fish?”
”Of course with fish.”
”Fish we can eat, or fancy j.a.panese goldfish?”
”Not an ornamental pond, a real one, big enough so you can row a boat across, with frogs, turtles, ducks . . .”
”If you dig it, they will come.”
Three days without her morning run and she could feel it. Doesn't take long, she thought. Only on her third klick and her thighs were already complaining about the pace. The rhythm of her breathing was breaking up, ragged around the edges. Not good. Don't let it happen again. She thudded across the wooden bridge at the east end of the locks and turned for home. The familiar black Labradoodle chased her enthusiastically for the usual hundred metres before acknowledging a sharp whistle. She had never seen the owner. Don't you even think about slowing down, Stacy told herself, work through it, there's serenity on the other side of the pain.
Three days. Fun while it lasted, no doubt about it, it was a rush, but the job was complicated down there, easy to blow your routines, she'd have to fight for her alone time if she ever got to work in Metro.
Yeah, like that was going to happen. Maybe it's better to be the top investigator in a six-investigator town. After all, things had been pretty interesting in Dockerty lately. Not that a person could count on that much excitement every month, but no doubt about it, this case had been . . . stimulating.
But not finished. Well, maybe her end was finished, there wasn't much more she could contribute from up here - talk to Dr. Ruth again maybe, push the Zubrovskaya woman a little harder - but what good would that do? And what would she be looking for? What part of the case was still unresolved? The murder of Viktor Nimchuk in a motel on the Queensway in Toronto. The Queensway. In Toronto. Definitely not up here, and most definitely not her case. Not any more.
Almost home. Quick shower, a protein shake, find something to wear, verbal report to Lieutenant Paynter, another one to the Chief, then write it up, wait for orders.
She stopped running at her front gate, but kept moving, pacing the perimeter of the little front lawn, cooling down, around and around the three rowan trees Joe Greenway had given her last year. One male and two female. Hope those babies made it through the winter. Their trunks were wrapped in burlap and chicken wire. At least the wild things hadn't wounded them. If Joe said they'd be happy there, they'd probably be happy. Trees, he knew about. Staying in touch? Not so much.
”Chief? Captain Rosebart on line one.”
”I'm picking up, Dorrie, thanks. Brennan here.”
”Chief? emile Rosebart.”
”How do you do, Captain? What can I do for you?”
”Giving you a heads-up, Chief.”
Orwell was alert. ”Appreciate it,” he said.
”We let those two Russians go.”
”Really? ”
”Right, we've got nothing to charge them with.”
”Stolen handgun?”
”No evidence he stole it. Says he bought it from the p.a.w.nbroker. Plus he turned it over to a police officer.”
”In exchange for stolen property.”
”Which was offered by the officer. In any case, he didn't actually receive the stolen property.”
”Well then, thanks for letting me know.”
”Something else. There's likely to be some fallout over the arrest. The Russian who was taken into custody by your detective got a dislocated kneecap in the process. Says he's going to sue her for a.s.sault. Claims she crippled him for life. Police Services is going to have to look into it.”
”I understood that he was resisting arrest.”
”His lawyer's going to claim she didn't have jurisdiction to make an arrest.”
”She was helping out a fellow cop.”
”I know. I know. We'll sort it out. Right now Detective Moen's . . . taking some time off.”
”She's not suspended, is she?”
”Lord no. She lost her partner. Hit her pretty hard. She's grieving.”
”Plus you're investigating the man.”
”Plus. And yeah, she's staying clear of that.”
”Anything you can tell me about how it's going?”
”Nope.”
”Fair enough, Captain. This Grenkov still in the city?”
”Far as I know.”
”Good. Detective Crean can come down there and arrest him again.”
”Say what?”
”Well, he's wanted for a.s.sault and breaking and entering up here. Wait a minute, make that two a.s.saults, and two B&Es. I don't see why he can't pursue his lawsuit at the same time he's being tried in Dockerty. If you folks are done with him, I think we should get him up here to answer the charges.”
Rosebart had the good grace to laugh at that. ”Say the word, we'll pick him up for you.”
”Thanks. I'll let you know.”
”Might save his other kneecap.” Still chuckling.
”Might at that. Crean's a good one, Captain. For future reference.”
”I take your meaning, Chief. Big difference, working down here. A lot to learn.”
”Steep curve, I'm sure, but if anyone could handle it, she'd be the one.”
”Wouldn't happen overnight, Chief.”
”I hope not.”