Prologue
Detective Christopher Heller came in through the pouring rain. He removed his purple tie with black stripes and placed it on the bed. When he heard the knock on the door, he had not been expecting the news he heard. In a heartbeat, he was there.
“Yes,” he asked.
His friend Jerry Handel stood over the precipice: his partner in crime. But by the look on his face, Chris knew this wasn’t a social drop-in.
“Chris, you better come quick,” Jerry said in a startled kind of way.
“Where and why?” Chris immediately asked.
“It’s about your wife.”
Chris stared at Jerry in confusion. “My wife?” When Jerry just nodded he continued. “What about her?” Chris checked his silver glow-in-the-dark Seiko watch. As a detective, he always found clues in the dark. Once he glanced at it, he notified himself that it was seven post meridiem. Chris usually got off work at around five post meridiem most evenings unless he was working late. As a detective, you might work many late evenings and sometimes you never expected to come home until the following afternoon or even later. Today though, Chris was relieved because had no new case and therefore no new mystery to solve until now.
“She was due at seven, Jerry,” Chris spoke. “She sometimes runs late. You know those business types. They never catch a break.”
Jerry looked at the concrete block he was standing on. Chris observed that he looked uneasy standing there at the foot of the door. “Chris, I’m here because of your wife.” Jerry’s hands immediately went for his pants pockets and Chris knew he was avoiding his crystal blue eyes. Witnesses, suspects, and even victims used to avoid his impervious stare. Chris assumed that with thirty years on the job that it was because of his eyes. Crystal blue: cold and calculating.
“What is it, Jerr? Spit it out.” “Your wife…” Jerry started and really hoping not to complete the rest of the sentence, but Chris nodded to egg him on. “Your wife…she’s dead.”
The words hit Chris like a huge truck crashing into a huge brick wall. His breath released itself from his body before he could even think of saying something. His wife was dead. It didn’t sound possible. Not Tiffany Heller. Each night she would come home safe and sound. He knew there had been a mistake. Sure, he was the one to disclose the bad news to the families of the lost ones all the time. But he had never imagined such a visit would happen to him. He was a detective! His job was to inform others about their loved ones and not to receive the news himself.
Jerry stayed standing on the block and Chris felt impulsed to ask, “Would you like to come in?” But Jerry shook his head. “No, no, I’m here to take you down to The Centre.”
Chris nodded as he went for his navy blue Nautica windbreaker. He zipped it up before locking the brown house door behind him. Once he had his keys in the left pocket of his coat, he nodded to Jerry. “Let’s go.”
