Quick Kill (A Sydney Granger Murder Mystery) Read online

  QUICK KILL

  By Patricia McCallum

  QUICK KILL

  Patricia McCallum

  Copyright © 2011

  All Rights Reserved.

  Forest Lodge Press

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Cover art by Indie Book Design

  http://www.indiebookdesign.com

  Layout provided by Everything Indie

  http://www.everything-indie.com

  “Refreshingly unique and satisfying entertainment.”

  -Carolyn McCray

  Kindle Bestselling author, Fated

  “A sassy, likable sleuth with a good sense of humor.”

  -Amber Scott

  Bestselling author, Soul Search

  This book is dedicated to my wonderful family.

  How did a girl get so lucky? :)

  CONTENTS

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  About the author

  PROLOGUE

  Sarah Madison wiped down the last of the tables and arranged the condiments so they lined up like colorful tin soldiers. They matched the bright yellow and red sombreros that adorned the back wall. Travel posters of smiling Mexican locals and golden beaches plastered the other walls.

  Blowing an annoying bang out of her eyes, Sarah surveyed her section. The floor needed mopping, then she really needed to leave. The sitter was freaking out.

  Kim came through the kitchen door into the dining area and walked straight toward Sarah. “So, what were you saying? You were about to tell me about your new hottie.”

  “He’s not a hottie.” Sarah blushed. “He’s a nice man, and, um, he makes me laugh.” She glanced over at the Petersons sitting in the corner of the restaurant. God, they were slow eaters.

  “So, he’s hysterical, great. What’s he look like? Is he sexy, steamy? Come on, tell me everything.” Kim squeezed her arm.

  “If you’d stop talking for one minute, I’d tell you. He’s—interesting looking.”

  “What does that mean?” Kim narrowed her eyes. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “Nothing!” Sarah exhaled heavily. “Look, I can’t go into it right now; I really need to leave.” She glanced at the clock on the wall.

  “You’re not going to tell me about him?” Kim stared at her. “You’re going to leave me hanging? Unbelievable.”

  “Do you mind finishing up in here? I’ve set the whole section; you just need to mop the floor, okay?” She untied her apron.

  “No way! I cleaned up last night,” Kim protested.

  “You can have the tip off that last table over there, okay?” Sarah indicated the elderly couple in the corner.

  “Aw, man, they’re never going to leave.”

  “I’ll tell you all about my hottie, as you call him, tomorrow. I promise.” Sarah wrenched her order pad from an apron pocket and put it on the counter. “Please, Kim, the sitter’s texted me three times already.”

  “Oh, all right, but I want all the gossip as soon as you get in tomorrow. I want to meet this guy, too, so I can see what’s wrong with him.”

  “Yes, yes, anything you want.” She pulled the apron up over her head.

  Kim swiveled and headed back to the kitchen.

  “Thanks, sweetie, you’re the best,” Sarah called.

  “Yeah, yeah.” Kim flipped her the bird without turning around.

  George, one of the line cooks, banged into Kim in the kitchen doorway.

  “Watch it!” she complained.

  “Sorry, Kimmy, my bad.”

  He turned and saw Sarah. “Hey, beautiful lady, do you require an escort to your car? Or an escort for any other activities?” He giggled and stuffed a few knuckles in his mouth.

  “No, thank you, George. There’s never anyone around at this hour. I’ll be fine.”

  “You sure? It’s dark out there. That’s where the boogiemen are.” George raised his arms over his head and shuffled a few steps with his eyes rolled up into his head. He definitely looked the part.

  “Yes, I’m sure.” She didn’t want to be out alone in the parking lot with crazy George.

  Sarah went to the staff area and ripped off her itchy, hot uniform, then threw on her comfy jeans and favorite soft tee. She didn’t bother to change her shoes.

  She grabbed her sweater and purse, pushed open the side door of the restaurant, and stepped outside.

  Sarah rummaged through the bottom of her bag, searching for her car keys. Damn, where did she put them? She found one end of the chain and tugged them out, squinting in the dim light to find the right key.

  Sarah pulled on her sweater as she trotted across the small parking lot to her car. It didn’t matter if her sweetie looked a little strange; he was very kind, and they had fun together. That was the most important thing, wasn’t it?

  Bending over, she slipped the key in the lock.

  Suddenly, a thick arm shot across her chest and wrenched her backwards, pinning her arms to her sides.

  She screamed.

  A gloved hand clamped across her mouth, smashing her lips into her teeth. Warm blood flowed over her tongue.

  Sarah bit the hand as hard as she could. The hold loosened, and she wrenched herself away from him. A hand grabbed her hair and yanked her back.

  “No!” she screamed.

  The arm slammed back around her and knocked the wind out of her. Sarah couldn’t breathe.

  She saw a flash of steel.

  When the hand came off her mouth, she drew in a ragged breath. Sarah felt a knife pierce under her ribs, then tear upwards.

  Searing pain shot through her.

  As she slid down to the pavement, Sarah glimpsed the sky.

  No stars.

  She landed on her back on the cold, hard concrete.

  CHAPTER 1

  The alarm screeched. Sydney Granger opened one eye and tried to hit the snooze again. She missed the button, and the alarm clock shot across the room.

  Crap, she was going to be late if she didn’t get up right now.

  The smell of freshly brewed coffee drifted into her room and roused her like no argument ever could. She sat up, stretched, and pushed herself off the bed. Thank the Lord for automatic coffee machines.

  She staggered to the kitchen and poured a large cup of caffeine. Having a tiny one-bedroom apartment meant that she didn’t have to go very far. She briefly thought about doing some yoga, but quickly shot that idea down. Sydney had to be realistic; she would never be a morning person.

  The sun blazed in the window, warming her back as she sat at her tiny kitchen table sipping the hot liquid. Her gaze drifted to the aged photo of her parents on the wall. Would you be proud of me? She headed to
the shower.

  After Sydney showered, she surveyed her pathetic clothes situation. Her overfilled laundry hamper was in dire need of attention. She promised herself she would do it on the weekend, the same promise she’d made the last two weekends. She found her last clean bra and knickers and put them on.

  Sydney checked her phone. There were three messages from Mike marked ‘urgent.’ The first one read ‘Get your butt here NOW for meeting with boss.’ The time stamp showed that it had arrived half an hour ago.

  Crap!

  She threw on her jeans, tee, and blazer, ran a comb through her wet hair, grabbed a peanut butter granola bar on the way out, and hopped on her bicycle. She rode the six blocks to the precinct.

  Sydney loved living in Toronto. As soon as the snows stopped, the city’s inhabitants took to the streets and stayed outside as much as possible until the icy winds blew up from Lake Ontario again in the fall. She rode in all weather conditions, except for major blizzards.

  ***

  Arriving hot and sweaty at the precinct, Sydney bumped into her partner. Mike Stanza fell against the wall, pretending she’d pushed him. He was a tall and powerfully built guy, handsome, with high cheekbones, but he had the laugh of a baboon. Girls bumped into things when he walked by and did inane things to get his attention. It drove her nuts. Not that she cared; it was just that women should have more respect for themselves.

  When a suspect was female, he usually handled the interrogation because he got things out of them she could never hope to. He smelled damn good, too. They’d been partners for three years, and she thought they made an awesome team.

  “Hey, squirt, take it easy. I had a rough night.”

  Sydney usually enjoyed his antics and liked to play along, but not that morning. She wasn’t fully awake yet.

  “Come on, stop kidding around, you bozo.” She punched him in the arm. “What does Inspector Harper want? You said it was urgent.”

  “Yes, it is, but why do you have to be so aggressive with me?” Mike held his arm and faked a hurt expression.

  She rolled her eyes and grinned. “Right, very amusing. Let’s go.”

  Only five-foot-four, Sydney felt taller with a gun strapped on. Because of her height, the guys liked to make tough cop comments whenever they got the chance, and Mike threatened to bench-press her when she got cheeky.

  They took the stairs two at a time because Harper didn’t like to be kept waiting, especially early in the morning. He was another non-morning person. She hoped he’d already gotten his caffeine fix.

  Mike knocked on the door, and they heard a loud grunt, which meant it was all right to enter. Inspector Harper was on the phone when they opened the door. He motioned with his coffee cup for them to come in.

  Sydney watched him as he spoke. Harper, a twenty-eight-year veteran of the homicide squad, was decent as far as bosses went, tough, but willing to listen and consider different points of view, if in a good mood. She hoped he was in a good mood.

  “It’s Connors,” Harper said. His head was at an awkward angle to cradle the phone on his shoulder; his hands were busy with pen and paper.

  “There’s been a murder.”

  Mike and Sydney exchanged looks. They waited as the inspector got the details from the cop at the scene. After a few minutes, he slammed down the receiver.

  “Queen and Bathurst, female victim, stabbed. Both of you, get down there now!”

  ***

  Mike and Sydney hopped in their squad car and got to the scene quickly. Downtown Toronto didn’t have a lot of traffic at ten in the morning on a weekday.

  They flashed their badges at the young pimply-faced officer who acted as bouncer, then ducked under the bright yellow barrier tape. Sydney spotted Connors and marched directly to him to get the details.

  Short and wide, almost square, Joe Connors was a homicide veteran and a good friend. Gray rings of hair clung to the sides of his head like a Franciscan monk’s. Fleshy red pouches sat under tired, watery eyes that used to be azure blue, but had paled over the years. His donut belly pushed the limits of his button thread to a dangerous level.

  He smiled when he saw her. “Hey, Syd.”

  “Hey. You been here long?”

  “Only about half an hour.” He scratched his sunburned head. “Just long enough to know that I don’t want to be here.”

  The Queen and Bathurst area got the most 911 calls of all of greater Toronto. With a homeless shelter on this corner and a Salvation Army one block down, this neighborhood never had a dull moment. The shelter and Salvation Army each had its own motley gang in front that was usually drunk, high, or just crazy as hell. Rounding off the perpetual circus was a small band of homeless kids from Montreal, each with a dirty backpack and a scraggly dog. A cruiser or two was always close by, night or day.

  “Who’s the victim, Joe?” she asked.

  “Sarah Madison, twenty-seven years old, from Brampton. She’s a waitress at Linda’s Restaurant, right there.” He jutted his chin southward. “The owner, Belinda Dawson, found her this morning at about eight-thirty behind the garbage bin near the side door of the restaurant.”

  “Aw, man.” She looked over towards the body. They began to walk over.

  “Looks like she was killed near her car and then dumped behind the unit.” Connors indicated with his notebook.

  The large green garbage bin was about four feet away from the wall.

  “The vic was hidden from the side entrance. Anyone going in or out wouldn’t have seen her. An early morning employee was taking out the trash and noticed a hand sticking out from the back. She called the owner to look, who then called 911.”

  The woman lay on her back, her head turned awkwardly to the side. She wore jeans, a sweater, and plain white shoes, like nurses’ shoes. A few drops of blood were sprinkled on them. Her green sweater had splotches of blood on the front. The Medical Examiner was bent over, working on her, so they couldn’t see much more.

  Sydney looked around the parking lot, then noticed a man across the street staring at her and smiling. Normally, she wouldn’t think much about it, with a huge mental institution a few blocks away, but she got a weird vibe from him. Something about the way he stared at just her and not the whole scene, like all the other gawkers.

  Sydney moved towards the edge of the sidewalk to get a better look at him. She stepped into the road.

  A huge red bus roared up and stopped right in front of her.

  She pounded her fist on the side of it.

  Move, damn it!

  ***

  Idiots, he thought, as he watched the police across the street.

  They could look, put evidence in their little baggies, and analyze all they wanted, but they would never catch him, never even come close to catching him, unless he wanted to be caught. He pitied those stupid people, all caught up in the game, like tiny ants rushing back and forth looking for food they had dropped.

  And for what?

  They didn’t understand anything, had no idea.

  Only he knew, really knew, and understood.

  He laughed out loud just as one of the female pigs turned around. She stared at him. Feeling generous, he let her watch him. He didn’t move even as she began to walk towards the edge of the road.

  ***

  The bus thundered off with a choking blast of exhaust fumes.

  Where did he go? Sydney looked up and down the street, but didn’t see him anywhere. “He was right there,” she mumbled.

  “Who was?” Mike asked, walking up, scanning the street. “Why you hitting buses? You really need a boyfriend.”

  “Shut up.”

  Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she took one last look down the street. Then she turned to Mike. “Anyway, what else did you find out?”

  “The vic worked the late shift last night from six-thirty to three. She had a BLT, used the restroom, finished cleaning her section, said adios to her coworkers, then headed out the door. Nothing out of the ordinary, except that she
had a Mountain Dew instead of the usual Pepsi. She really lived it up at the end.”

  “Have all the restaurant staff been questioned?”

  “Don’t know.”

  Connors walked over to where they stood.

  “The restaurant staff, have they been questioned yet?” Mike asked him.

  “It’s being done now.”

  “And the ones who were working last night?”

  “They’re coming down to the precinct when they can. Four have been questioned, but didn’t see anything. A few more need to be checked.”

  “Joe, you said that you recognized the victim?” Sydney asked.

  “Yeah, her name is Sarah.” He sighed. “I live just a few blocks up there, over on Ryerson.” He thrust his chin in that direction. What a weird quirk he had, all that chin thrusting. Why couldn’t he just point?

  “I used to eat at Linda’s almost every Sunday. The owner’s a real bitch, but Sarah was cool. She has a kid, a boy about nine years old. He was in there a few times when she couldn’t get a sitter. He was a nice kid. Man, could he eat. He’d polish off a stack of chocolate pancakes in record time.” Connors smiled. “I liked her. She sometimes gave me free coffee when I came in late, and she listened to me complain. Shit.” He wiped his face vigorously a few times and sighed again.

  “Is someone picking up the kid?” Sydney asked.

  “First we got to find out where he is.”

  “Was there a purse?”

  “Yeah, no information about the kid in it, though. Just a couple of pics. I got her home address. I’m going there now.”

  Sarah’s body was being removed by the Medical Examiner’s office. As they lifted her up onto the gurney, the wind caught her mane of dark blond hair. It shimmered like liquid gold as the breeze caressed it.

  Something fell out of her hair and dropped to the ground. Mike and Connors saw it, too, and looked at Sydney, surprised.