I wonder how Fibre will react to my new circumstances?
Fibre stepped cautiously over the cracked surface of the slough bottom, testing to see if it would support his six-foot frame. He pulled his mask down to his throat as he reached the cattails at the edge of the slough. He held up the bag. “I believe it’s a metal case. I cracked it open. It looks like there may be identification inside.”
“What was holding the body down?” Lane asked.
Fibre looked over his shoulder. “Two cinder blocks. One chained to the torso, the other to the knees. If it weren’t for this dry summer, we might never have discovered it.”
“How long has it been there?” Lane asked.
Fibre shook his head and looked in the direction of the mountains, the grey peaks distorted in the haze. “From the state of decomposition, close to a year. You understand that is a very rough estimate?”
Lane nodded.
Fibre pulled back the hood of his bunny suit. Perspiration made his blond hair stick to his scalp and forehead. He held up the bag. “Drive me back to the Foothills Medical Centre and we’ll see what’s inside of this container.”
Lane waited at the Chev as Fibre changed out of his bunny suit and rubber boots. The detective watched the two assistants as they severed the chains with bolt-cutters and painstakingly gathered the remains. Lane could see that a jacket held most of the torso together.
Fibre opened the passenger’s door and took a seat. Lane pulled the keys out of his pocket and got in the driver’s side. He pulled the seat belt over his shoulder.
“Smoke’s motives are transparent. You’ll be exonerated,” Fibre said.
Lane turned to face the doctor. Fibre’s expression was non-committal. When did you become my friend? Lane wondered.
Fibre turned to look south at a stand of trees. “It’s the time in between being accused and being exonerated that’s difficult.”
Lane inhaled. The stench of decomposition and slough mud filled the interior of the Chev. “The problem is, some of the mud always sticks.”
Fibre shook his head. “Each case is different. An objective analysis of the situation reveals that any type of emotional reaction will cloud your judgment.”
Colin, is this still part of your self-imposed penance for what you said to Christine? Lane started the car, shoulder-checked, and accelerated.
“I want to apologize again for what I said to your niece,” Fibre said.
Lane held up his hand. Fresh anger lit him from within. He glared at Fibre, who looked down the road.
“I had no right to say that. I understand you’ve taken in a niece and a nephew. That you and your partner are raising them. That you are very protective of children in general and these two specifically. That is why what I said was particularly odious.” Fibre’s right knee was dancing up and down as he spoke.
Lane shook his head. Who would believe this? Fibre running off at the mouth to me. And he’s been doing some digging into my background.
Fibre held up the bag. “I got a glimpse of the id. It’s protected with a clear plastic laminate. I should have some answers relatively quickly. You can accompany me into the lab if you like.”
No thanks. “I don’t like labs. You’re the expert.” I won’t be able to get the stink out of my skin for weeks.
Lane gave the doctor his cell number before dropping Fibre off at his office on the northern end of the Foothills Medical Centre. Then he drove down the hill into the river valley for a cup of coffee and some lunch. He found a place to park west of the café and walked back, past the ice cream shop and across the cul-de-sac overfilled with parked cars.
Inside the café, he ordered a mochaccino and a sandwich before finding a table near the window. As he waited, he observed the people chatting in public privacy. He’d consumed half the sandwich and more than half the coffee when his cellphone rang.
“Dr. Weaver?” Lane asked.
“Correct. I have names for you. Do you want them over the phone?”
Lane looked around him. “Want me to bring you a coffee or a sandwich?”
“Not necessary.”
Lane heard uncommon emotion in Fibre’s reply. The detective looked at the remains of his lunch. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
“Good.” Fibre hung up.
Fibre was waiting at his desk in an office so sterile it seemed the air was sanitized. Despite the sunshine streaming through the windows, Lane couldn’t see a single speck of lint or dust in the air.
Lane set a paper bag down on the desk. Fibre pulled it toward him and opened it. “Nanaimo bar!” He smiled, and nodded for Lane to sit.
“We have several forms of identification. The small metal case provided added protection against decomposition for the plastic licence and another piece of identification that was, fortunately for us, laminated. Here’s the driver’s licence.” Fibre slid a photocopy toward Lane. “And we have this.” He slid a second photocopy next to the first.
Both photocopies showed the face of the same man. Similar weight, same height. The second card used the Cyrillic alphabet. The man wore a military uniform and what appeared to be an officer’s cap.
“The driver’s license says he’s Andelko Branimir,” Fibre said. “And it gives a local address. The other IDID says he’s Borislav Goran.”
“You can read this one?” Lane pointed at the photocopy with the Cyrillic letters.
Fibre blushed. “I learn languages. It’s a hobby of mine.” He pointed at the military IDID. “It appears the victim served in a paramilitary unit.”
“War crimes?” Lane’s mind worked to understand the implications.
“Too little information to reach any conclusions as of yet. But yes, I’ve done a preliminary check, and this unit was implicated in various war crimes.” Fibre opened a desk drawer. He pulled out a large manila envelope and slid the photocopies inside.
“Anything else inside the metal case?” Lane asked.
“Pulp. Whatever else was in there was reduced to pulp.” Fibre handed the photocopies to Lane. “After the clothing and remains have been analyzed, you’ll get a comprehensive report.”
Lane stood up to leave. Fibre touched the paper bag. “Thank you. Nanaimo bars are – ”
“Decadent,” Lane said.
“Deputy Chief Simpson wants to see you. He’s in charge until Chief Smoke gets back. The appointment is at eight o’clock tomorrow morning.” Lori smiled at him from behind her desk. She was blonde, somewhere between forty and fifty, had three kids of her own, and treated the detectives like they were part of her extended family.
Tomorrow I get fired or suspended, Lane thought. It’s just like Smoke to delegate his dirty work to the second in command. And I feel nothing. No disappointment, nothing.
Lori stood and waved for Lane to follow her into the storage room where the photocopy machine was. “Come into my office.”
Lane stepped inside. Lori looked up at him. “I’m not telling you this, but something is up.”
Lane waited. I wonder how much pension I’ll get?
“Things are hopping in the deputy chief’s office. A couple of members of the police commission have been in to see him. Harper’s been in there too.” Lori leaned right to see if anyone else was nearby.
“Any idea what it all means?” Lane asked.
Lori shook her head. “All I know is that the deputy’s secretary has been fielding calls all morning. Way more traffic than usual. All of them from bigwigs. She’s even had calls coming in from the States.”
Lane shrugged. “And the deputy chief wants to see me?”
“That’s right.” Lori’s phone rang. She pushed past Lane to answer it.