Chapter 4: The Elusive American

Once back at his apartment, Bahn showered and shaved and tried his best not to even think about what he had done the night before. That turned out to be not such an easy task as any thought of Kit or her body, or what he had done with it, caused him to become instantly aroused all over again.

Bahn again cursed his lack of self-control as he left for his office and whatever the day ahead would bring.

Once at his desk, Bahn called the FBI field office in Buffalo and, after a good deal of time on hold, his call was taken by a man who identified himself as Special Agent Sam Lester.

"What can we do for you Inspector Bahn?" came his voice in the receiver.

"I'm investigating a series of killings over here for CSIS."

"Oh, yeah. The one who killed that judge and the member of parliament and the Toronto councilperson. We caught wind of that over here. Tied 'em to chairs and lobbed off their pricks, right? Nasty shit!"

"Yes," Bahn agreed.

"So, how can we be of help?"

"One of our RC's has turned up a lead that our killer just may be from the states."

"What? A serial killin' Yank who has a hard-on for Canucks?"

Bahn laughed. "Something like that. Your service has profilers who, I understand, are very good at helping to catch these kinds of people."

"Sure," Agent Lester said. "We've had a great deal of success. Look, why don't you just send me a copy of the complete file you have and I'll have our people look it over and get back to you, okay? You can repay me with a couple of Sens tickets the next time they host the Sabres at The Bank."

"Fine," Bahn told him, "you got it." And then he set to work pulling up the file and sending it off to buffalo/lester@ic.fbi.gov.

Sitting back in his chair, Bahn realized that he had a splitting headache, throbbing right between his eyes. Reaching into the top drawer of his desk he extracted a plastic bottle of ASA and quickly popped three of the tablets into his mouth before realizing that he had drained his cardboard Horton's cup which forced him to just chew the bitter, chalk-like tablets and swallow.

"My, that's a sour face," came the unmistakable, sweetly high-pitched voice of Constable Kit Cassidy as she approached his desk. She was wearing a business-like blue pant-suit now and a white blouse.

"Good morning," Bahn said to her.

"Here," she told him, "let me get you some water." And she stepped from his cubicle and returned quickly with a paper cup from the cooler.

Bahn took a long swig and thanked her, guiltily adding, "How are you feeling this morning?"

"Great," she answered cheerily, the sweetness of her lemon-scented cologne adding a light fragrance to the immediate area.

"Really?"

"Yes," she assured him. "I always feel great after I've had a good..." she smiled coyly at Bahn now, " ... a good night's sleep."