Going Under_ A Bill Roberts Thriller - Silas Payton Page 0,3

My cell was in a locker. Have you called Cliff yet?" he asked.

"I just spoke to him. He's about five minutes away from the scene. The CID was notified twenty minutes ago and Detective Evans is first on the scene from our team. He's presently in charge, has the place secure, and is awaiting the rest of the crew."

"Thanks Cathy. What's the address?"

"I'll text it to you so you don't forget," Cathy said.

"You know me too well. I'll be there in fifteen to twenty minutes. Let Cliff know I'm on my way, will you?"

"No problem. Call me if you need anything," she said.

"Thanks Cathy. I will."

Walking toward the front doors of the gym, Bill noticed three people laughing. They stopped when they saw him. Coincidentally, they all looked away.

It'd be just my luck if they caught me on video.

Chapter 3

Bill Roberts

Bill turned onto the street to see the media trucks from the major radio and television networks had already set up.

What's with the Gong Show? It seems a bit overkill.

He chuckled to himself at the bad pun. There was a crowd of reporters, and he thought to himself...

Maybe I should use that line.

Getting out of the car, his whole body ached, from both the gym and his fall on the treadmill. He was spotted seconds from the car and a reporter approached with a microphone. "Inspector Bill Roberts can you confirm that the wife was the shooter?" he asked.

Using the old standby, he replied, "No comment."

The reporter came back with, "Can you confirm this is the residence of James Elliott, the Terminal Manager of the Port of Toronto? And, do you think there is a connection between his death and the unsolved murder of Pierre Garneau two months ago, who also worked at the port?"

"God, Jim! You know I can't comment," he said. "Can you let me do my job and we'll see what's happened here?" Once again, the press knew more than he did and it pissed him off.

They started walking together. Jim said, "Sorry Bill. You know I'm only doing my job. I'll talk to later, okay?"

"Yeah, it's your place for dinner this weekend isn't it? I'm sure that's what your wife mentioned." Bill got along well with his former brother-in-law, but in times like this, he wished Jim was something other than a reporter. Bill's wife had passed away two years ago and he did his best to keep up with her brother and his wife. He enjoyed his company, but he wished he was a car salesman instead...or a dentist, or really anything but a news reporter.

They came to the police tape, as they had together many times. Like a well rehearsed dance, Jim stopped, while Bill lifted the tape and walked under it. Once on the other side, he turned to his brother-in-law, nodded and said, "Talk to you later, Jim."

Bill walked up to the house and saw his sergeant, Cliff Jones, talking to Constable Rick Evans, both detectives with his homicide team. "What do we have, gentlemen?" he asked.

"Hey Bill. The photographer's in there taking pictures but we can talk in the front room while he's finishing," Cliff said. "I'll update you in there."

They were in range of the high-powered microphones the media used, and knew they couldn't say anything outside.

In the light of the front entrance, Cliff stopped and looked at Bill in a strange way. "What's with the head?" he asked.

"I had a run in with a treadmill."

"They work better if you run on them," Cliff joked.

Bill rolled his eyes and shook his head, opening the front door. The entrance opened into a short hallway and sitting area on the left. The dead body of a male was still slumped against a door, which he presumed led to the garage. A dark pool of blood had spread out on the tiled floor around the body. He could smell the lingering odour of both gunpowder, and blood.

To the right of the front foyer was a living room. "This room's fine. We can talk in here," Cliff said, pointing the way.

"Get me up to speed here, guys," Bill said.

Cliff started. "The victim is James Elliott, the manager at the Toronto port. The way it looks so far, his wife shot him at close range when he walked in the door."

Evans added, "She claims she doesn't know what happened. I had one of the street cops from division bring her to headquarters, before the reporters showed up. She understood she's being charged with the murder