Chapter 7

“What the hell kind of garbage assignment is this?” Detective Brent Cooper demanded.

Lieutenant Gilbert Harris caught the pun and couldn’t hide his smile, but he remained serious.

“It is what it is. “I got a host of complaints last night about somebody stealing a garbage bag that was set out to be picked up in the morning, and I need you to do me a favor. Find the perp, but you don’t have to arrest him for mischief or theft unless you think it’s warranted. Just give him a warning to cease and desist. That should be enough to keep these nosy, little, old ladies off my back.”

“Aw come on. If it’s just a garbage bag. he’s doing the garbage men a favor. One less bag for them to pick up. Who’d want to steal garbage, anyway? This sounds like the work of a goofball.”

“Yes, he could be a nut case, but there’s no indication he’s violent, so just find him, and give him a warning, okay?” Harris handed Cooper a slip of paper. “One of those nosy ladies took down a licence plate number. He should be easy to find.”

Cooper grumbled. “Okay, I’ll do it, but you owe me one. So, as soon as I find this guy I’m starting my three days off.” Although it meant Cooper would be taking off several hours early, Harris agreed.

The detective sat down at a computer and ran the plate through the system, getting a big surprise when he discovered the perp was a she, not a he. He printed out a driver’s licence photo of the woman, and her address, determined to give her a good talking to.

Detective Cooper had no problem finding the address. It was an older, three-story walk up, apartment building near the intersection of Stony Plain Road and 149 Street. He drove down the alley and entered its decrepit parking lot. It was dusty and full of potholes, with only a dilapidated wire fence marking its boundaries. He immediately spotted the vehicle in question, a dirty red Honda hatchback of undetermined age and in poor condition. He got out of his car to double-check the license plate number and peered into the car’s interior. It was such a disgusting mess with old newspapers, empty food wrappers, pop cans, and clothes scattered across its back seats, he wandered if the woman might have been sleeping in it.

Cooper turned from the car, wondering if she still actually lived in one of the suites in the building when he got a glimpse of somebody going by the front of the building. The distinctive, long, red hair bouncing on her shoulders was a dead give away, and with a knap sack on her back, she seemed to be in a big hurry.

“Damn woman is more trouble that she’s worth,” he cursed. She must have seen me from the window, and is attempting a getaway. Well, she can’t escape me.”

Cooper jumped back in his car, and roared down the alley, and turned onto 149 St., his eyes sweeping the street. He swore when he saw no sign of her after a block. Frustrated, he ignored a no parking sign, and parked against the curb. To avoid a ticket, he stuck his police card on his dashboard, and continued his search on foot. Suspecting she must have dashed into one of businesses that lined the street, he looked into the windows of each one he passed, growing more and more irritated each time he struck out.