Two police officers from the Royal Canadian Mounted Police arrived in a patrol car within a matter of minutes. Mia was subsequently given a roadside breathalyzer test. The machine paused on pass … then flickered into the warning zone.
The policewoman hesitated. “You smell strongly of alcohol,” she said. “Your motor skills and physical appearance are also indicative of drug use. Do you mind if we search your car and belongings?”
Mia sighed. “I had one glass of wine earlier, but the man I was with wanted me to have more and poured another one. I refused and he tried to kiss me. I pushed him away and he ended up dumping wine down the front of my blouse,” she said, indicating her blouse. “If I’m acting strange it’s because I’m still really angry.” She looked at her car and added, “Then to have this happen … well, I feel stunned.”
The officer stared at her a moment. “Okay, relax. I know the type,” she said, rolling her eyes for emphasis. “Still, you’re lucky that no one was hurt. I’m going to write you up for driving without due care and attention.”
“I understand,” replied Mia. “Will it take long?”
“Officers!”
Mia saw an older woman standing on the front porch of the house with the rhododendrons. A dog was at her feet. “Can I talk to you?” she called.
Mia swallowed and felt the dread as the other police officer went to speak to the woman. Seconds later, the woman pointed to the rhododendron at the front of her house.
Oh, fuck …
Chapter Four
For the second time in two days, Mia met with Mr. Frank. This time the meeting was brief and they met in a stairwell of an underground parking garage. Mr. Frank was too cautious to ever speak inside a vehicle or any other place he thought could be subject to electronic surveillance.
“The wine you spilled on my blouse was the reason the police came,” said Mia with a scowl on her face. “It’s your fault! The police also asked if I had taken drugs.”
“Keep your voice down,” cautioned Mr. Frank, nervously peering up the stairwell. “There is nothing to worry about. The matter will be looked after.” He tried to soothe her by patting her shoulder. She pulled away in anger. Perhaps his gesture would have been more convincing if the tone of his voice had not betrayed his nervousness. He knew he was to blame and feared the fatal consequence it could have for him.
“My first court appearance is next Friday,” continued Mia. “That is only a week away. They are charging me with possession. I was told they had even considered charging me with possession for the purpose of trafficking.”
“That is one good thing,” Mr. Frank remarked.
“Good thing?” She seethed. “If I end up with a criminal record …”
“I would never allow that to happen. It will be dealt with. Everything will be okay.”
“How?”
“The police are corrupt. You know that. A payoff will have to be made to the station commander, but that is all. I will look after it.”
“So I don’t need to show up next week?” asked Mia.
“These things take time,” he replied. “Show up and plead not guilty. The matter will be resolved long before any trial takes place. The important thing is that nobody finds out.”
“The Rolstads only know that I skipped their party because I was in an accident and was too upset. So don’t give me a bad time for not going to the party when I returned —”
“No, I understand. Did you tell your mother what happened?”
Mia sighed. “No. I was too embarrassed to tell her.”
“Embarrassed? Because you had an accident?”
Mia studied his face closely as she responded. “No, I was embarrassed that I accepted a drink from you when I didn’t watch it being poured. Mom taught me better than that.”
“What are you saying?” asked Mr. Frank angrily.
“That I felt too strange for only having one glass of wine,” she retorted, suspiciously.
“Do not blame others for your own mistakes,” replied Mr. Frank. He shook his head in admonishment. “It was your nerves. I saw that at the time, which was why I wanted you to stay and help prepare you for your assignment.”
“Bullshit! I know what you wanted to do with me,” snapped Mia. “And don’t deny it!”
Mr. Frank shrugged. “I’m not denying it. I’m human. You dressed provocatively … sending out mixed signals. I thought you wanted me to come on to you.”
Mia frowned. “I was dressed for the Rolstads, not for … well, either way, let’s put it behind us. I don’t want my mom to know because I don’t want her to worry.”
“And there is no reason for you to worry, either. Do not give the matter another thought.”
Mr. Frank stared after her when she walked back up the stairwell. He knew he had a problem. He was not acquainted with any corrupt police officers. Action would have to be taken, but he could not jeopardize his own position. It was time to ask for a favour.
It was two o’clock Wednesday afternoon the following week when RCMP Corporal Connie Crane of the Integrated Homicide Investigation Team arrived at the scene. She flashed her identification at a uniformed officer to allow her access through the security perimeter tape and walked up the street.
She was the second member of I-HIT to arrive. The first member, Constable Stan Boyle, was new to the team and had asked for Connie’s assistance. She saw him talking to another uniformed officer farther down the street. Boyle was a big man whose gut hung over his belt and he forever had bits of sleep in the corners of his eyes. Connie didn’t care about his appearance, providing he was capable of doing his job — something she had yet to determine.
Boyle spotted Connie and broke off his conversation and ambled toward her. As he approached, she glanced at the yellow emergency blanket up ahead on the sidewalk. The body — or bodies, as she soon discovered — were still sprawled on the concrete.
Boyle muttered to himself and shook his head as he looked at Connie, somehow expecting her to know what was troubling him.
“What’s up?” asked Connie. “I thought it was a simple hit and run?”
“It is,” replied Boyle, “but uniform is trying to say otherwise. The guy is being really obstinate. If I hadn’t called you, he said he would.”
“Who have you been talking to?”
“Some jerk. A Corporal Dave Rankin. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
Connie was introduced to Rankin. He was a uniformed policeman assigned to traffic and was the first on the scene when the 911 call came in.
After the initial greeting, Connie asked, “What makes you think this isn’t anything more than a hit and run?”
Rankin shook his head. “Because it’s not.” He pointed down the block. “The broken remains of a cheap bottle of wine are farther down the sidewalk where the car first jumped the curb at the entrance to that apartment building. It then travelled this way at a high rate of speed down the sidewalk, hit the victim, then veered back onto the road at the next apartment entrance.”
“Must have been going fast for the victim not to get out of the way,” noted Connie.
“The car came from behind her, so she wouldn’t have had much time to react … but it was going fast. She was also walking a dog. I think she panicked and got the leash tangled in her legs and fell before the car hit her. Considering the type of vehicle involved, if she had been standing, she would have gone over the car or into the windshield.