The Case of the Junkyard Dog-Episode 1

GRADE 12 DETECTIVE CLUB

The Case of the Junkyard Dog: Episode One

HIGH PARK - NIGHT

Jogging is not supposed to kill you. Nevertheless, Sue Charles was about to die.

Of course, the fifty-five year-old Corporate Communications Specialist didn't know when she laced on her New Balance shoes at 4:30 that this morning’s run would be her last.

Sue had just touched the 'one way' sign on Deer Pen Road, the turnaround point of her daily 5k run when she first heard the sharp snap of a dry twig. She didn't stop and scan her surroundings, there was no point, the sun hadn't even begun to brighten the August sky so the woods on all sides were jet black.

The next time she realised that she wasn't alone - not counting the park's racoons, mice, birds, insects, harmless snake and, of course, the bison, goats, deer, and Llamas of the High Park Zoo - Sue Charles was near the kid's playground just off West Road. The sound of heavy breathing, not her's, was unmistakable and a little frightening.

Even more frightening for the three-time winner of the Chilly Half Marathon, two-time winner of the Kitchener MS Charity Run and soon-to-be participant in the Atlanta Marathon, was her heart rate, which according to her Fitpro Monitor was 145 bpm.

"Too much!" she said in a whisper between breaths. Still, as she passed Light Pole 233 - the 3.5 kilometer mark in her circuit - she decided to pick up the pace. Not a strategy her running coach would have approved of, but she needed to reach the well lit and heavily traveled Bloor Street quickly. 

Sue had just accelerated when something grabbed her waist. The added resistance caused her to falter, but only briefly. Only until she began pumping her arms powerfully, lowered her centre of gravity an inch or so, and further extended her stride.

It worked.

'”Whatever you want buddy, you’re not gonna get it!" she thought then veered suddenly to the left and raced into a stand of tall birch trees.

Sue found some comfort in the forest. The firm ground provided good traction and the trees were spaced far enough apart to allow her unimpeded travel while close enough to make it difficult for her attacker to ambush her from an angle. Furthermore, she thought she could see the light of Bloor Street in the distance. Unfortunately, what she didn't see - until too late - was the three-inch diameter branch jutting into her path at forehead height.

Sue Charles figured that she must have been unconscious for only a few minutes. Her sweat hadn't evaporated and the sky's halftone purple was no lighter than before she went for her 'nap.'  

She stood cautiously, brushed the dead leaves and dirt from her clothes, wiped the dark, sticky liquid from her eyes, then resumed running, slowly at first then rapidly gaining speed.

The stand of birch suddenly gave way to Erin Bales Football Field where eight people - Sue couldn't tell if they were men or women - stood bent over staring at their own small area of grass lit only by the flashlights mounted on their foreheads.

The worm-pickers were not a new sight to Sue. She'd encountered them before. Once she even tried to strike up a conversation with one, a skeletal woman who had looked up and half-smiled at her, but Sue's inability to understand Polish, or Ukrainian, or whatever the woman spoke.

She could have stopped and asked for their help, their protection but she didn't. "I have this under control" she thought - incorrectly as it turned out - because no sooner had Sue Charles entered the last well-landscaped patch of tall bush that separated her from the sodium-lit safety of Bloor Street than the attacker reached out from behind with a yellow handled box-cutter and sliced her jugular. Sue Charles's limp body slid belly-first to the ground and her life began pooling around her left cheek.

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The basement still stank of the solvent Mr. Alvarez used last Saturday to clean Jack Muir High School's aging boiler. Neither Bridgit nor Emma had yet arrived so small talk dominated the conversation, although Keisha once tried unsuccessfully to introduce the topic of Do-it-Yourself DNA testing.

At 8:32, twenty-eight minutes before the bell, the air was broken by the sound of someone jerking open the basement door then hurrying down the stairs.

Bridget had today's Toronto Star tucked under her left arm, the Toronto Sun under her right and the Globe and Mail open in front of her.

She sat on the a wood crate and said with an exasperated tone, "October 12 meeting of the Grade 12 Detective Club is hereby convened. We can do anything old people can do but..."

Although only Bridgit spoke the first portion of the Club's motto, they all recited "BETTER!" in unison."

"Why the long face?" Kaseka asked Bridgit.

Keisha blurted out, "Unfortunate genes."

Bridgit shot Keisha 'a look' then held up the newspapers she was holding and said in a depressed tone, "I've got nothing for us. Squat!"

"What! No crimes to solve? No criminals to catch?" Emma asked in a surprised tone.

Bridgit replied, "Not unless we want to help the police find...." then pointed to the mug shot of a white male with serious hat-head, a stupid grin, and a plaque with the number 238970993 printed on it, ..."this escaped killer or assist the Court of the Hague to track down Andriy Khodakovsky - nickname 'the impaler' - the head of the Muslim death squad that operates in the Ukrainian region of Luhansk."

Janet spoke first, "in tracking down not 'to track down' You incorrectly used the preposition 'to' and anyway, with his photo on the front page of the largest news publication in Canada he might as well surrender and regarding the Ukraine, Mr. Sheppard will never approve the travel expenses."

".... and on the subject of 'expenses' ... I got a part time job..." Emma said in a meek tone.

"Thought you already have a part-time job," Bridgit responded.

"Another one - usher at the circus - which is gonna kinda cut into my..."

"Me too," Heri added.

"Me too what?" asked Bridgit.

"Me too I've got a job. Working the Municipal election. Just one day, and a three-hour training session tonight."

"I'm doing 30 hours a week," said Emma quietly.

Kaseka half-turned toward Emma and said with a sarcastic tone, "Ahhh Hello! Huge midterm Science and Technology project due in three weeks?"

"I have no choice... none," Emma said.

Kaseka was about to reply but instead he stopped and noted Emma's face, the dark circles that had recently formed around her eyes, her slouched shoulders, her fingernails - bitten to bloody stumps. And he decided to remain silent. Kaseka knew that Heri took on the election job simply to feed his love of politics and government affairs, but Emma's motivation he strongly suspected was money... likely for university but there also could have been a secret boyfriend in the picture, or gambling debts Or drugs. Emma was not one to share information about her life outside of school.

Bridgit said to Emma, "No problem but if one of us doesn't get a text from you at least once a day then we're calling 911."

And they all laughed, all except Emma.

"All right, meeting dismissed," Bridgit said in an official tone then added, "...but I need all of you to keep checking your favourite newsfeeds, social sites, and the twitterverse... Sherlock was only as good as his last case and after rescuing the Scotts and Gloria....and kicking the perps butt, we need a case we can sink our teeth into as my grandfather would say... and he wore dentures," Bridgit said with a wide smile on her face.

Everyone - including Emma - laughed.

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Students weren't allowed to sit on the front steps - "tripping hazard" according to the administration's edict posted in last winter's edition of the Muir Stallion, their student-run newspaper so Bridgit thought was strange to see Margo sitting where she wasn't allowed.

Bridgit figured that Margo was waiting for her parents to pick her up. Still, 'parents waiting’ was always done in the Principal's office, not the front steps.

"Is that how you would interpret Mandela's comments Ms. Stein?"

"Absolutely," Bridgit replied and the other students immediately burst into laughter.

Mr. Agee loved to embarrass students who 'drifted off' in his class. Bridgit scanned the room of laughing faces, then glanced at Mr. Agee, then turned back toward the window. She didn't care if they were laughing at her, what she did care about was Margo, and why she was crying, or at least that's what Brigit surmised from Margo's hunched back and repeated passes of the palm of her left hand over her eyes.

"May I use the washroom, please?" Margo asked Mr. Agee but she was already half-way to the door by the time she uttered the last word of her request and never heard his answer.

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"Hey Margo," Bridgit said in a soft voice as she approached from behind.

Margo turned, glanced at Bridgit and forced a smile.

"Hey Bridgit."

"What's up?"

"My Auntie Sue died - killed really - yesterday morning. Parent's coming to pick me up. Don't think I'll be able to come back to Muir. The police say that Auntie Sue was murdered by a... by a... dog or some kind of animal with sharp claws. Mom and Dad are gonna hide me out in some safe location until they figure out how to remove the family curse."

"Curse?"

"Evidently, it skips a generation so I guess I'm up next. Auntie left all her money to me - in trust - so when I turn 22 I'll be rich, very very rich - if I can avoid his jaws that long."

"Jaws?"

"The 'Junkyard Dog,' that's what Mom called him. Black with a huge body, razor-sharp claws, and eyes that glow red in the night. Stupid huh?"

“ Still, just about everybody in the family believes he exists and now..."

Just then a fire engine red Audi A5 pulled to a stop in front of the school and the passenger door swung open. Bridgit couldn't tell who was driving but from the three glistening rings on the driver's left hand, which gripped the top of the steering wheel, she figured it was a woman.

"Gotta go," Margo said in a sad voice then stood and began walking toward the Audi, but when she was still ten or so feet from her destination she turned hesitantly and spoke with a mixture of sadness and embarrassment, "If the Club isn't busy with a case.. I know you probably are... but if you're not then would you consider trying to find out who killed my Auntie Sue? I don't believe in curses or dogs with glowing red eyes."

"Nor do I," replied Bridgit.

Moments later Margo and the red Audi were just a dot in the distance.

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Because she composed it while running back to Mr. Agee's class, the text message Bridgit sent the Club members just read, "we have a case. Meet out front after school."

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Janet had basketball practice so the rest of them hung out at the Second Cup down the street until she finished. It was 5:12 and already night had fallen when the five of them pulled up in front of 14 Manor Road.

Ramu began checking the front windows for movement the instant he leapt from the back seat of Juggernaut.

"How'd you find..."

"The Wizard of course," she replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

"You ever tell us whether the Wiz is a her or a him?" Keisha asked.

"No, I didn't."

"It's not nice to keep secrets from your Club mates," Keisha replied.

"OK, you're right, I should tell you, and I will now, so listen very, very closely."

Bridgit spoke softly, and at an even cadence..."whatever, whatever a Wiz there was, the Wizard of Oz is one..."

Keisha rolled her eyes while Kaseka chuckled then joined in, "... because, because, because."

And then Janet added her voice, "... because of the wonderful things she or he does."

"OK, we won't ask again," Keisha said.

"Yeah, you will," Bridgit replied.

Both yesterday's and that morning's copies of the Toronto Star lay on the reddish brown welcome mat. Bridgit scooped them up

Just the signal burglars look for," she said

Kaseka had the front door unlocked in under thirty seconds but he hadn't swung it open more that a few inches when a dozen or so flies escaped, bring with them the whiff of death.

"She wasn't murdered at home was she?"

"High Park, besides, tissue doesn't decay at that rate. Whatever is emanating that odour didn't die just this morning. Or yesterday morning for that matter."

Bridgit pushed past Kaseka into the lobby and flipped on the light.

 Kaseka gave her a questioning look.

"It's OK for the place to look as if Auntie Sue is home. The media hasn't released the vic's name so the neighbours aren't going to know she's dead," Bridgit said in between gasps as she removed a gym shirt from her backpack and tied it over her mouth and nose while the others either pulled their t-shirts up over the lower halves of their faces or just cupped their hands over their mouth and nose. Neither method kept out the stench but at least it prevented them from inhaling a fly.

"I'll check the kitchen. Keisha you take the living room. Kaseka, the den. Ramu and Janet upstairs.

Bridgit hadn't made it to the kitchen door when Keisha yelled out, "Dead cat!".

"Ditto in the den," said Kaseka

"Make that two more dead cats in the living room plus one small skeleton and an a little pile of miscellaneous bones on the coffee table."

The two foot high pile of dirty dishes first caught her eye but only momentarily. Then she saw the high chair.

"Hey! Any of you see evidence of a child living here?"

"Empty crib in the master bedroom," replied Ramu from the floor above.

"Smurf baby blanket crumpled on the floor of the second bedroom," Janet called out.

"Dust covered toy truck in the living room," shouted Kaseka

"Baby stuff scattered over the living room, but all of it looks unused, still in its original packaging," Keisha said matter-of-factly, "so where's the...."

Just then the house went black and Bridgit froze.

"Breaker trip?" Keisha asked from the living room.

"More likely Toronto Hydro shutting off Auntie Sue's power."

"And what makes you think...?"

"Elementary. Top of the kitchen's recycling bin... Hydro bill... unopened.. envelope stamped 'final notice'.”

"How you doing Ramu?" Bridgit called out the floor above.

"I've been better," he replied.

"Janet with you?" asked Bridgit.

"No, I don't know where she is," he replied.

"Janet?" Bridgit said in a normal voice, then repeated, "Janet!" much louder but only silence answered. 

Bridgit reacted immediately by whipping out her Protec flashlight and hurried up the stairs. She found Ramu standing against the west wall of the master bedroom. His body was stiff, his eyes nearly as wide as Kaseka's new OLED TV.

“I don’t like the dark,” Ramu said in soft voice.

Bridgit knew to speak slow, soothing tone. "I know but I'm here now. We're gonna walk out of the bedroom, down the stairs and outside. We need someone to keep an eye out for any suspicious activity."

Ramu just nodded in agreement and forced a smile. His hand was clammy and stiff when she took it and began leading him out of the room. But they hadn't made it more than half-way to the stairs when Bridgit stopped suddenly, fell still, then turned toward Ramu.

"You smell wet dog?"

Bridgit paused for a moment. inhaled through her nose then said with conviction, "No", but a half moment later said in a whisper, "Make that a yes."

At first the growling was almost imperceptible. More a directionless rumble than a sound. But as it grew in volume and ferociousness, Bridgit determined that it was coming from behind. Bridgit would have preferred to keep going - the top of the stair case was only three or four paces away, but with the second growl Ramu froze and she with left with no option other to stop as well.

Ramu didn't turn and considering the rigidity that had seized his body, he probably couldn't have turned, but she could, and did. At first there was nothing before her but a black void, but then two red eyes that never blinked appeared out of the darkness. At that point, she was glad Ramu hadn't turned to look and rather wished she hadn't either.

"Walk!" she said in a whisper and Ramu took one stiff pace forward, then another, and another. Red Eyes didn't seem to be following them, instead the dog, if it was a dog, seemed content to simply glare at them.

Although the urge to turn and see if it had followed them down the stairs, Bridgit didn't, instead she led Ramu straight to the front door, opened it, and gently pushed him out into the night air.

She had just shut the front door when she heard a toilet flush, then hurried footsteps on the floor above. Janet came rushing down the stairs looking sheepish, “Sorry, had to pee.”

“Bridgit gestured toward the second floor and asked, “You see or hear anything up there.”

“Like what?”

Just then Keisha said with a tone of dread in her voice, "Barbie! You gotta see this."

Bridgit, Kaseka, and Janet all entered the living room within moments of each other.

Keisha was pointing at an oak chest, inlaid with mother of pearl and, unlike the other furniture in the house, frequently dusted and lovingly polished. The chest's lid was open, but Bridgit couldn't see inside from where she was standing.

"Tell me that's not what I think it is," Keisha blurted out in a nasal tone, the thumb and forefinger of her right hand pinching her nose.

The three of them converged on the chest in unison but each of their reactions were quite different.

Janet and Heri stared in stunned silence.

A wave of sadness washed over Kaseka's face

And Bridgit, well tears began flooding her eyes and streaked down her cheeks.

"What are you doing in my house?" The voice was male and mad. Bridgit and the others turned toward the foyer and saw a middle-aged man, wearing a long, beige trench coat and a black bowler hat.

Ramu said from just inside the front door. “I tried to stop him,”

"Your house?" Keisha shot back.

"Exactly! Allow me to introduce myself, I am Professor Clifton Charles the Third, brother of Sue Charles and rightful heir to her estate. Which includes the abode in which the four of you are currently trespassing."

Bridgit took three paces to the right to draw Professor Charles' attention while Kaseka and Janet walked around the chest to partially impair his view of the casket. Keisha, moving quickly and quietly, pulled a latex glove from her right pocket, slipped it onto her hand then removed a three quart pickle jar and set it on the floor between her feet.

END OF EPISODE ONE

Who murdered Sue Charles?

The Grade 12 Detective Club

Who was it that savagely murdered Sue Charles? Was it the beastly hound that has stalked her family for generations? The escaped killer? Or Ms. Charles's clumsy maid? Check out the Grade 12 Detective Club's next exciting case. Episode One (of 5) of "The Case of the Junkyard Dog" will appear on this blog, this Sunday.

Case: The kidnapping of the Scotts and Gloria - Ep. 5 and final

THE GRADE 12 DETECTIVE CLUB

THE CASE: KIDNAPPING THE SCOTTS AND GLORIA - Ep. 5

Graphic Design by: Marilyn Russell / Written by: James M. Russell

Like any good employee, Cuppie followed the JAG and, just as instructed by his boss, wrote down the addresses each time one of the kids got out.

Bridgit was the last to be dropped off, so once the JAG drove away, Cuppie parked in a deep shadow cast by the streetlight just a couple houses down the street from Bridgit's home. Cuppie’s boss figured that she was the leader "of that bunch of nosy kids" - his words - so he wanted Cuppie to report back to him “every time that little bitch so much as sneezes."

Slouched in the driver’s seat of his boss's black, '64 Cadillac Coupe DeVille - lights off, windows up, Cuppie played his favourite Eagle's CD over the Caddy's Blauplunt sound system, safe in the knowledge that because it was so late, and because the Caddy was black, and parked in the shadows, nobody would notice him or the car. What he didn’t figure was that Mr. Hockless, Bridgit's neighbour to the east was the Vice-President of the Neighbourhood Watch Committee and, due to a recent bout of insomnia, spent nearly every night for the past month or so sitting on his screened porch watching reruns of '60 TV shows. Not only did Mr. Hockless notice the Caddy park in front of the Stein's house but he had written down the Caddy's license plate number before the male, balding, thin build, wearing a dark blue or black t-shirt, had even shut off the engine. As was his practice, Mr. Hockless gave the unidentified vehicle a four-minute grace period before calling the police non-emergency number.

Bridgit never noticed the Caddy sitting outside her house, nor the driver, nor the black police cruiser pull to a stop behind the Caddy. Bridgit was busy using her favourite search engines to find a reference to 'J.A." other than 'Junior Achievement', 'Jamaica', 'Juvenile Activity', and 'James Allen', a recently deceased rapper who interestingly went by the stage name 'Deadman J.A.' It was 1:46 and Bridgit had just loaded "Crawlie" - the automated search program Keisha wrote - when she received Janet's text.

Sewer runs E for 200 M then branches N and S. The N branch passes within a K of the Scott's house. Thnk we should chk it out?"

What sewer? Bridgit replied

 NE corner of ABC. Heri and I discovered it... worth checking?

Definitely! Bridgit replied because she knew that the sewer could have been the answer to the question that had been nagging her since they took on this case, “how did the kidnappers get their victims out of their gated community without first passing the guard at the front gate?”

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Sewers are dangerous places. Not only are they filled with various toxic gases, some of which are also flammable, but also, they aren't a claustrophobic's best friend, so Bridgit and the others didn’t understand why Ramu volunteered to descent into the 'rabbit hole'. Although he was the only SCUBA diver in the group and therefore the only one with breathing apparatus - admittedly designed for negotiating through water not gas-filled sewers.

Bridgit and Janet decided that Lansdown and St. Clair was the best entry point. Problem was, some idiot positioned the sewer entrance in the middle of the intersection and there was constant traffic flowing through the intersection, despite it being 2:13 in the morning. It was Janet who came up with the idea, "remember the Mystery of London’s Forgotten Australian Timber Roads?” It took a few moments for Keisha and Heri to get the connection. Emma, Janet and Kaseka knew immediately. Working in teams of two they fanned out and removed two ‘one way only’ and two ‘do not enter’ signs from side streets then attached them to the poles to the north, south, east, and west. It must have confused the hell out of drivers but it worked.

They used the ¼ inch Blueline braided rope Kaseka always kept in Juggernaut's trunk, tied it to the back of Ramu's belt with a Munter Hitch then handed the rope to Emma, the strongest of the members.

"We don't want you triggering any sparks,” Bridgit said as she gave Ramu her ProTac 2L, LED flashlight, which she had rendered gas-proof by wrapping it with a metre or so of duct-tape.

"One tug from us is asking if you're OK... one tug from you means 'yes'."

"What happens if I'm dead and can't answer?"

"You can't die. You're a geek. You have no life to begin with!"

"Emma!" said Bridgit with a bark. "Two tugs from you means 'get me out of here'. Got it?"

Ramu nodded, positioned the facemask over his eyes and nose then climbed onto the metal ladder and began his descent into the ominous blackness.

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Although the cops could easily have arrested, or at least detained, Cuppie for loitering, they simply ordered him to "move on", which he did - around the block – and back, although this time he parked a few houses south of his original spot. Half an hour later Kaseka and the gang picked up Bridgit and Cuppie began following the JAG.

Cuppie drove around for nearly half an hour, secretly hoping he would never find another entrance to the sewer – but he did eventually. Of course he would have rather sat in the Caddy and just watched the kids from afar. The sewer entrance cover looked heavy, a foul smell rose from it, and besides, he was a little afraid of the dark. Cuppie was on the phone with his boss for several minutes before he was finally swayed by the words, "I need to know what those kids are up to so you’re going down there – either now, or later in pieces after I finish with you."

His boss always managed to be convincing.

The cover weighed a ton but he finally pried it up with the aid of his boss' tire changing wrench then wrestled the cover to the side. Cuppie couldn't find a flashlight in the car but he figured that the flame from his lighter would provide enough light.

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Ramu couldn't remember one traumatic event that may, or may not, have given birth to his claustrophobia. He did however recall being terrified of confined spaces as far back as kindergarten when playtime included what Mrs. Rolf named 'camp stories' - a mandatory and agonisingly long time that two students had to spend in a pup tent she erected in a corner of their classroom. They were supposed to use the time to create a story about trees, or the earth, or birds, or other forest animals, which they then had to share with the other kids. Ramu would spend the entire time sobbing quietly so it was always the other kid who had to create the nature story.

Ramu’s heart began racing and sweat oozed from every pore the moment he set foot on the top rung. It wasn’t the wetsuit or the twenty-five pounds or so of breathing equipment strapped to his back that caused him to perspire, no, it was blinding terror.

The ‘ladder’, nothing more than bent iron bars imbedded in the concrete wall, ran out about four feet shy of the bottom, so Ramu had to lower himself using just his arms. At gym Ramu could do ten pull ups easy but in the sewer Ramu's arms quivered under the added heft of the tanks and fear.

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Emma was focused on the rope feeding through her two hands when she noticed Janet squat on the ground, pull something, and then something else from her backpack. In the murky dark night, it was difficult for Emma to see what Janet was holding but from the way she waved her hands, the zoned-out expression on her face, and the mouthed words Emma had a pretty good idea what Janet was doing.

"Tell her to stop!" Emma barked impatiently at Bridgit who looked up from her cell, glanced at Janet then replied in a conciliatory tone, "She's not hurting anybody."

"She's not helping either!" Emma replied.

Janet muttered, “It’s a spell to bring good luck, usually in business, but I think it might be appropriate in this situation as well."

"What's that," Emma said with an accusatory tone.

"What's what?" Janet shot back.

"In your left hand."

"Mandrake root and a pinch of red clover. I really could use some dragon’s blood but…." Janet dug into her backpack and pulled out a small clear glass bottle containing a red liquid, “… but this extract of wild beets will have to do.”

"Witch!" Emma shouted.

"Bitch!" Janet replied as she dropped three dimes into a small, red felt bag then added five drops of beet extract.

Just then, nearly a foot of rope raced through Emma’s hands, burning her palms.

When Ramu's size 13W shoes slipped off the sewer wall he was sure he was headed for an unfortunate landing but his right hand maintained its firm grip on the bottom rung. So instead of executing a belly flop in the dark he remained upright as his Nike's sank into the black slime that carpeted the sewer’s floor.

"You OK?" Bridgit said from above then remembered their system and jerked once on the rope.

Ramu tugged back once.

The round sewer was quite spacious, with a diameter more than enough to accommodate his six foot two inch height. To the left, the sewer ran straight - for at least twenty feet - beyond that the light from his ProTac 2L surrendered to the darkness. To his right however, the sewer branched left and right. Ramu chose the left - but for no particular reason. He regretted the decision the moment he noticed the left branch beginning to narrow about twenty feet from the Y's crotch. This is impossible! he thought as he dropped to his knees and began crawling on all fours. Once, then twice, he scraped his tank on the underside of the tunnel before he decided to turn back. Unfortunately there was no room to turn around so he had to back out.

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Cuppie had only reached the third rung down when he pinched his nose with the forefinger and thumb on his left hand. "Jesus, this place stinks!" he said so loudly that his words echoed thrice off the sewer's walls. The orange light cast by the streetlight overhead had faded by the time he climbed down two more rungs so he pulled the lighter from his right pant's pocket and flicked. The blast not only set his clothes on fire but the force of it blew him out the sewer entrance and three feet into the air. Fortunately, the driver of the car whose hood he landed on had a fire extinguisher in his trunk.  

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" ’dat sound like thunder or an explosion?" asked Emma.

"I'd go with 'explosion' and unless you recently contracted some rare condition that resulted in paralysis of your tongue, moving forward, please pronounce the ‘th’ in that.” Janet said with a sarcastic tone.

Bridgit was the first to notice the smoke oozing out of the sewer and immediately gave the rope a sharp tug.

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Ramu had already re-entered the large sewer when he felt the signal. He responded with two short jerks then grabbed the lowest rung of the ladder and began climbing. The search had been a bust but the explosion, somewhere further down the sewer to his left, had produced so much grey smoke that there was no point continuing.

Once he returned to ground level, Bridgit and Heri helped Ramu wrestle free of his tank and straps while he continued coughing uncontrollably.

"You OK?" Bridgit asked.

"Found nothing, sorry," He replied in a hoarse voice, coughed twice more then finally managed to take a deep breath.

 

The first few notes of Pachel Bell signaled to Bridgit that computer program had finished its search.

Bridgit scanned the three news articles found in the search - two from newspapers and one from MacCean - then said with conviction, "I know where to find the Scotts and Gloria."

"About bloody time Watson!" said Emma.

"We notifying Rezoski?" asked Heri.

"No time," Bridgit responded.

"Jolly good Sherlock. How did you figure it out?," said Kaseka in an unconvincing British accent.

“Well,” replied Bridgit as she hurried toward Juggernaut, “As Holmes said famously in A Study in Scarlett, ‘There is nothing like first-hand evidence". Which is exactly what I discovered, although it was more like a clue, but I didn’t know where it would lead – until now.”

“And the clue was?” asked Kaseka.

“J.A. Watson, J.A.”

No one spoke during their entire journey to 3230 Albion Rd., what truckers call "The Backyard" a curious name for a level, nine acre gravel and broken brick parking lot for trailers - hundreds of them - all positioned in neat rows. 

The Members stood at the entrance to The Backyard, stunned by the enormity of their task.

"Surely we don't have to check every trailer," said Keisha with a hopeful tone.

"The J.A. on the Perp's arm stands for Judas's Army, a motorcycle gang heavily involved with drugs and prostitution in eastern Ontario and Quebec. About nine years a rival gang, The Dead Spirits ambushed their clubhouse with automatic weapons and, according to reports, mortars. Our Perp must have survived somehow, and since the Dead's are still around, the Perp is undergoing treatment to remove the incriminating tattoo.

“But what does this place have to do with…”

“Smashing question Watson. The J.A.’s owned this lot before the bank repossessed it.”

"OK. But how is that information going to help prevent the seven of us from spending the next three weeks searching every one of these bloody trailers," Kaseka asked.

"Elementary Watson, notice that the ground is still damp from the rain two days ago? The doors of these babies are several feet off the ground so the Perps would need a platform or ladder in order to place the Scott's and Emma inside, so...."

"We look at the ground behind each trailer until we find one with four impressions in the soft earth."

"From a step-ladder," said Janet

"Or stool," added Heri

"Exactly!"

The excited members fanned out in The Backyard - each of them with hope in their hearts and a ProTec flashlight in their hand.

Within a half hour they heard Heri shout, "Awesome!"

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The Duty Desk Officer was busy filling out an incident report when an exhausted Robert and Cecile Scott and little Gloria walked through the front door of Station 52. Mr. and Mrs. Scott each carried a partially eaten hamburger in their hand while Gloria licked furiously at a chocolate dipped ice cream cone. Considering what they’d been through, the three former kidnap victims looked surprisingly calm to the casual observer despite reeking of sewage.

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Gilles was just about to start up his Soft-tail when his cell beeped to signal an incoming text.

“Damn kids,” he muttered then shouted toward the front door of ABC, “Cuppie, the game is up. Pack our stuff. We’re flyin’.”

The End of: THE CASE: KIDNAPPING THE SCOTTS AND GLORIA