Two surprises awaited Lane when he left the ice.
“Hey, Ref!” Matt’s coach called Lane over and offered his hand. “I’m Larry.” He had a head carpeted with grey curly hair, evidence of the aftermath of teenaged acne on his face, and a pair of hearing aids. “Would you consider teaching the guys how to skate?
It’s gonna be a long season if they don’t learn.”
The second came after both referees changed in the locker room. Bob broke the silence, “Sorry man, what I said was outta line.”
Too shocked to reply, Lane simply shook the hand Bob offered.
Inside the Jeep, on the way home, Arthur drove with his window rolled down, and the heater on high. “You two stink.”
Matt turned in the front passenger seat to face Lane who sat in the back. Matt said, “Chad told me about what you said to the other ref. Thanks.”
Arthur asked, “What did he say?”
Matt said, “The Ref called me a cripple. Uncle Lane shoved him to the ice and told him not to do that again.”
Arthur said, “You what? Everybody in the stands thought the guy fell and you saved him.”
Matt smiled. “I had a better angle.”
For a change, Tony drove the Lincoln on the way home from work. It was close to eleven o’clock.
“Man, I’m tired,” Jay said.
“So, I’ve got it all figured out for Friday,” Tony said.
Jay opened his eyes. They passed the Stampede Grounds. “This is the last time, right?”
“Sure. But it has to be good and this plan is great.” Tony smiled while glancing sideways at Jay. “But we need a third person this time.”
“What do you mean?” Tony asked.
“Somebody to keep the stairs clear,” Jay said.
“Who’d you have in mind?”
“Rosie.”
Tony shook his head, “No way.”
“It won’t work then. Somebody’s always going up or down those stairs.”
“Uncle Tran wants to talk about you getting your own place.”
“I’ve got a place to live. And don’t change the subject.” Jay sat up straight and adjusted the seat belt.
“A car, even a boat like this, isn’t a place to live. Havin’ your own place goes with being part of the family. You get a place to live and tuition is paid for. Uncle Tran’s rules.”
“What if I say no?” Jay asked.
Tony laughed. “We both know you’re not gonna do that.”
Jay shook his head and smiled.
“Now, have you got the masks?” Tony asked.
“In the trunk,” Jay said.
“Good. We just need one more thing and we’re ready.”
Tuesday, October 20
Chapter 13
“WE’RE BEGINNING TO look like a cliché,” Lane said. They sat at the window of the coffee shop on Kensington. Lane sipped a mocha. Harper drank his house roast.
“You should know better than to use big words around an uncultured cop like myself. Speaking of uncultured, Arthur told me about your little tussle last night. Not very suave, I must say.” Harper sipped from his cup, leaving his pinky extended like a British flagpole. “Do you ever get off the phone?” Lane asked.
“You know me, I keep one ear to the ground and one ear to my cellphone. So, don’t change the subject. What happened?”
“The other Ref called Matt a cripple,” Lane said.
“So, you flattened him?” Harper smiled.
“Sort of.”
“And what did this Ref say after the game?”
“He apologized,” Lane said.
“By the sound of things, Matt thinks you’re some kind of saint.”
“Apparently,” Lane said.
“Enjoy it while you can. Those pedestals get to be pretty tippy. Still, I can see the kid continuing to grow on you. I’ve never seen you lose your cool. Maybe I’ll go to the next game in case it happens again.”
“Not likely,” Lane said.
“It’s funny how we’ll take the nastiest comments about ourselves and not react, but when somebody says it to someone we care about, we go postal.”
“So?” Lane decided to change the subject. “Hear from the chief?”
“As a matter of fact, after Bobbie’s show yesterday afternoon, there were at least a hundred callers wondering why the Reddie case has not been closed.”
“Did she mention it on her show?” Lane asked.
“Not a word. All she had to do was mention cancer, and people all over the city rushed to her rescue.”
Lane’s cell rang. He flipped it open. “Hello.”
“Mr. Lane?” The woman’s drawl came from somewhere south of there.
“Yes,” Lane said.
“You’re wondering how I got your cell number?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact,” Lane said.
“Let’s just say one of my clients has access. I’m Dr. Ellen Dent, veterinarian. I’ve been trying to reach you for almost a week now.”
“We’re happy with Riley’s vet.” Lane made ready to press the end button.
“I’ve never been in a position where it became necessary to solicit patients. This call is about another animal altogether.” The way Dent said ‘animal’ piqued Lane’s interest.
“And?” Lane felt a bit perplexed by Dr. Ellen Dent, her accent, and her condescension.
“I believe a certain ‘animal’ and I might have something to offer you in the way of information about the Reddie murders.”
Lane’s entire mind focused on the conversation. He remembered Lisa’s comment about the canine hairs on Kaylie’s clothing. “Go on.”
“We need to meet. I have evidence, and you need to see it to understand,” Dr. Dent said.
“When?”
“I have an opening in thirty minutes.”
“Where are you?” Lane asked.
“Crowfoot Animal Rescue Emergency. That’s CARE for short,” Dr. Dent said.
“We’ll be there.” Lane thought, This one sounds like she’s crazy.
On the way to CARE, they drove by the sign at Bobbie’s church. There was a new message: Even in the darkest of times, God shines her light on me.
“We’re five minutes late,” Lane said as they parked. The sign outside the office had CARE in metre-high blue letters on a white background. Inside, a grey cat sat on a chair. It held out a paw to reveal blue nail polish.
“Hello. He likes to show off his nails after we paint them.” The receptionist smiled, revealing braces. “You must be Mr. Lane.”
“That’s right,” Lane said.
“Dr. Ellen Dent is waiting,” the receptionist said in a tone that warned the doctor did not like being behind schedule. “This way.” She led them to the examination room at the end of a hall stacked with bags of dog food. “She’ll be right with you.”
Lane and Harper stood inside a small examination room next to a belt-high Arborite table. Behind the table were enough diplomas to cover a living room wall. Lane wondered if all three examination rooms were wallpapered the same way.
“What is it with this Dr. Ellen Dent thing? Who is she trying to impress?” Harper asked.
Lane shrugged. The back door opened, and the doctor arrived. Her grey hair was cut short. She wore an immaculate white smock. Dr. Dent had a chart tucked under one elbow. In the other hand, she carried a small, grey, wire-haired dog of mixed parentage. One of the dog’s ears was bandaged, and its front right paw was in a cast. The dog’s tail wagged.
“I’m Dr. Ellen Dent,” the vet said. She gently set the dog on the examination table and kept her left hand close to protect it. She put on black-framed reading glasses and balanced the open chart in her right hand.
Harper and Lane looked at one another and prepared to be lectured.
Harper said, “Detective Cameron Mitchell Richard Harper at your service, Ma’am. This is Lane.”