The Devil's Copper by Jamie Crothall (ink ebook reader .txt) 📕

“Billie, are you…”

“He’s okay,” I said, though I was hardly convincing, as I wasn’t sure myself.  “He’s not all there.  He’s a friend of the family.  Anyway, I should go too.”

She reached out across the desk and put her hand on mine as I attempted to stand.  “I’m here to help you,” she said softly.  “Do you understand?”

I slowly nodded.  “I understand.  Thank you.”

“You have my card,” she said as she withdrew her hand.

***

Walter had already left the building when I reached the lobby.  I caught up to him leaving the station grounds.

“What did you do?” I accused.

“She’s a tough nut, that one.  She doesn’t look like much.  But she’s tough.”

“What happened?”

“Let’s just say she has her suspicions about a few fellow officers.  Well, more than a few.  But moreso officers Murray and Jones.  Can’t say I’ve heard those names before.”

“How did you get her to tell you that?”

“She doesn’t have much evidence.  Mostly just caught them taking bribes. Not enough to risk her career over.  She’s suspicious there’s more to it though.”

“Jesus, Walter!  Stop for a second,” I snapped.  He finally slowed his pace.  “How did you get that info out of her?”

His response was quite simple.  “Princess, don’t ask the butcher about his job if you want to enjoy the steak, okay?”

He continued walking, separating us by a few feet before I started to catch up to him again.  I wanted to ask more questions, but I didn’t know if I wanted to know.  It was all theoretical anyway; the officer was clearly in one piece and unscathed.  I shook my head and refused to give in to his delusions.

“Why would Mike rob Jack?  It makes no sense!”

“That’s half the question,” he replied.  “The other half is why would he do it if he knew he’d get caught?”

“What do you mean?”

Walter started counting off on his fingers.  “One, Mike knows Jack doesn’t keep any cash in the office.  So he had nothing to gain.  Two, he would be stupid to risk it if there was any chance Jack was around.”

“You mean…?”

“I think Mike was paid to rough the place up.  And I think he only did it because he knew Jack wasn’t around.”

“Do you think they’d let us talk to Mike?”

“I doubt it.  He’ll be out in less than twenty four hours anyway.  She doubts they’ll hold him longer than they have to, especially if he has help from the inside.”

“So let’s wait twenty four hours then,” I said.

“I don’t know where he lives.  Jack probably has a record of that.  But I don’t think heading back to his office would be a wise idea.  Unless you know where we can find him…”

“Jack said that Mike’s favourite place was the Laurentian.”

Walter rolled his eyes.  “This guy keeps getting worse and worse.”

“Why don’t we go there tomorrow and talk to him?”

“I like how you’re thinking.  Could be dangerous though.  You still have the gun, right?”

I nodded.

“Good.  As long as we still have a weapon with two bullets we should be safe.”

“Three bullets.”

“Whatever.”

***

It was a quiet drive back to the apartment.  Walter’s math concerned me, but I decided not to overthink it.  We parked and made our way to the front of the building.  As we were about to round the corner, Walter stopped, reached his hand out, and thrust me up against the wall.

“Jesus Christ!” he gasped.

“What the hell?”

Walter looked at the corner that we nearly approached.  His eyes were wide and his hand, which still held me against the wall, was shaking.

“Walter, what’s going on?”

“You were just shot.”

“What?”

“In the head.”

“What??”

“I just saw you die…”

“This isn’t funny.”

“You can’t go home.”

“Are you sure?”

“Give me your jacket.”

I didn’t feel the need to question him.  I simply took off my denim jacket and handed it to him.  He looked down and found a broken hockey stick.  Because it was Northern Ontario, and of course there was a broken hockey stick nearby.  He hung it on the edge and poked it around the corner.  There was almost immediately a loud cracking sound at which point my jacket moved as though caught in a small gust of wind.  He released it immediately and we both turned and ran back to the car.  I had never run so fast, I had never driven so fast, and I had never breathed so fast in my life.

“My place,” he finally found the breath to say.  “We’ll lay low there.”

***

I had never been to his apartment before.  It was an old building off Barrydowne Road I hadn’t noticed before.  Walter had me park around the back.  We both sat quietly in the car a moment before we dared get out.  I followed him around to the side entrance, and through a series of halls.  It looked like the interior of a prison complex.

At his door, he rattled through a series of keys before finding the right one.  He locked the bolt and chain once we got inside.

I don’t know what I was expecting. It certainly wasn’t what I thought it would be.  I always saw Walter as a lazy slob, so I imagined him living like a hoarder, wallowing in his own filth and having a kitchen piled with dirty dishes and empty bottles.  In actuality, his place was barren and minimalistic.  There was no clutter, as there was very little to clutter the place with.  No knick-knacks, no ornaments, no magazines, no dirty mugs…he only seemed to have the bare minimum he needed to survive.  Everything had its place and was kept there.  It was an OCD person’s dream.

Walter drew the curtains, turned off the kitchen light, and double-checked the lock on the door.

“You good?” he asked.  I nodded.  “You,