Chapter 4

Halifax Regional Police Det. Sgt. Bob Smith heard his own Blackberry go off in his pants around 6 a.m..
It woke him. He answered it in a growly voice covered over with morning mucous.
Not only was his name not on any roster this weekend, but he’d had a few beers the night before.
“Illo?”
“Detective Smith?”
“What is this, man? This better not be work, you morons. It’s Sunday for Christ sake!” He heard his own angry voice and was annoyed at the sound of it, but it was indeed Sunday.
“Bob. It’s Biz Digby, Southwest Nova Major Crime-“
Smith jerked up from the couch where he’d passed out. Oh God!
He’d failed to recognize the soft Muslim voice of Biz Digby, his all time favourite Mountie.
“Jumpin’s… I didn’t recognize ya. You’re too good to call me anymore?”
She laughed. “I’m calling you now, aren’t I? But it’s a business call, I’m sorry to say. I need your help.”
“Sounds serious.” He started looking around for his T-shirt.
“I guess. I’m at the scene of a firebombing in Ellershouse, your neck of the woods. There’s injuries to two children and a woman. I remembered you lived up here and figured I could use some CFIU input.”
Input… my God, Smith felt himself getting a boner.
“I’m here, yup. Ellershouse is a couple clicks down the highway from me. Who got torched?”
“A jail guard’s home,” Digby said. “They hit his private residence while he was at work. I figured it might be organized crime. Bikers. That’s one angle anyway.”
Smith clucked his tongue to the roof of his mouth.
“A jail guard, eh? From where?”
“Burnside.”
Det. Sgt. Smith’s boner turned rock solid. “What’s the address? I’ll be right there.”