Chapter 2
Thursday, July 8
“We want you to work with Nigel Li,” Harper said.

Lane studied Deputy Chief Cameron Harper before answering. Cam’s height and athletic physique filled the office. Behind his black moustache, now sprinkled with grey, his round face was a mask.

Chief Jim Simpson’s more delicate features were similarly blank.

Lane looked down at the round table in Harper’s office and then at the triangle formed by the chairs they sat in. His eyes focused on the mochaccino in the white paper cup. He could smell the chocolate. Now it all makes sense. He looked at Harper and Simpson again and sensed their discomfort.

“Think about it.” Simpson wore his uniform jacket with all of the necessary braid. His blond hair was trimmed short.

“For a day.” Harper lifted his coffee with hands that made the cup look like a child’s.

“We were hoping to hang on to Detective Saliba.” Simpson studied Lane’s face. “The RCMP wouldn’t listen to us. They said that her particular skill set was required elsewhere.”

“But we understand why she moved down east to get a fresh start.” Harper put his cup down, sat back, and squirmed in his dress uniform.

“And it’s important that we continue the process of passing on your skills, your techniques, to a younger detective.” Simpson looked sideways at Lane.

Lane was surprised at his annoyance with their use of the word we and thought, Get to the point. Both of you are so worried about following the rules that you’ve handcuffed yourselves. “Who is Nigel Li, and what are you holding back?” He raised the mochaccino, took a sip, and smiled. “Don’t think you can buy me with one good cup of coffee.”

Simpson blinked and smiled. He stood up, loosened his tie, took off his uniform jacket, and hung it on the back of his chair.

Lane spotted the darker blue patches under Chief Simpson’s arms.

Harper stood up, took off his jacket, and rolled up his sleeves. “Li is a colossal pain in the ass.”

“And a brilliant one. He speaks English, Spanish, and Mandarin.” Simpson sat down again and reached for his coffee. He used his left hand to hold back his tie as he sipped.

“So, which is it? Is he brilliant or a pain in the ass?” Lane looked at the liver spots on the backs of his hands.

“Actually, he’s both.” Simpson smiled as he gauged Lane’s reaction.

Before Lane could ask his next question, his phone rang. He raised his hand, pulled the phone from his jacket pocket, and read the name on the display. He looked at the men in front of him. “It’s Lori. I have to take this.” He pressed a button. “Hello?”

“Tell those two bigwigs that we need you,” she said.