Holgersen’s gaze snapped to Maddocks. “What the fuck—you kidding me?”
Maddocks held his gaze.
“Oh no. No fucking way. I ... Jeezus, isthatwhy you brought him onto iMIT? To stick him on some lost cause sub unit? We was all wondering what in the hell when you named him. What about me then, huh? What’s your beef with me, boss?” He ferreted into his pocket and pulled out his pack of nicotine gum. He struggled to free a tablet as he started shuffling again.
“This unit has potential, Holgersen. Your goal will be to prioritize the MVPD backlog of unsolved cases and earmark those that have a higher solve rate probability. Like triage. You then focus on those cases with the most potential, get some results we can take to brass. Depending on how you run with it, this sub unit can be your baby. We’re talking career advancement here.”
Holgersen managed to liberate his gum from the packaging. He popped the green tablet into his mouth, began chewing furiously as he shook his head. “Nope. I’s not working solo with Harvey-ass Leo. No way, José.”
Maddocks glanced through the window at his officers behind their desks, and he lowered his voice. “Yes, you are. And I want you to watch Detective Leo,” he said. “Like a hawk.”
Holgersen stilled and met his boss’s eyes. “So ... what d’ya mean? I’m, like,spyingon Harvey Leo? Isthatwhat you’re saying?”
“Just watch him for me. Watch how he handles and prioritizes cases.”
Holgersen frowned. “I don’t follow.”
Maddocks reached for his door. “Let’s go. I’ll get you set up so you can start Monday. Leo is already waiting.” He began to open the door.
But Holgersen balked. “Oh man, Jeezus fuck, boss,” he whispered. “You can’t be serious?”
“Dead serious.”
He cursed again, scuffed his boot, and looked down at the floor as he considered this. “Keeper of lost causes,” he muttered. “Cold cases and fucking Harvey Leo.” Holgersen looked up. “So you gonna tell me what’s the deal with Leo? What exactly am I looking for?”
“If you see it, you’ll know it.”
“You messing with me, sir?”
Maddocks gave a rueful smile. “If I had something to give you, I would. Get my drift?”
Holgersen angled his head. “Fishing expedition? You suspect something but have no proof?”
Maddocks said nothing.
“Is internal behind this? Am I working for internal affairs or some shit without my knowing it? Because—”
“You get weekends, Holgersen, a regular workweek, for the most part.”
“I don’t like weekends.”
“You’ll learn.”
CHAPTER 11
SATURDAY, NOVEMBER17
Angie pulled up at the gates in front of the home on Harling Point.
The residence was one of those clean-lined, modern affairs with lots of glass and spiked plants posing as rather hostile-looking landscaping. The early twilight added to the bleak and brooding atmosphere. Intrigue rustled through her as she powered down her window and reached for an intercom button set into one of the stone pillars flanking the gates.
Finding Internet references to Jilly Monaghan had been child’s play—Angie had realized almost immediately why the woman’s name had seemed familiar. She was a retired justice of the BC Supreme Court, and plenty had been written about her.
Justice Monaghan had been notoriously brazen and outspoken throughout her long career. A media scandal had erupted when Justice Monaghan had been brought before the federal Canadian Judicial Council for misconduct after “mistakenly” referring to a complainant as “the accused” several times during a domestic assault trial. Justice Monaghan had also asked the complainant in court why the complainant hadn’t left her husband after she’d realized she was pregnant by him, especially given her husband’s history of her violence toward her. This had sparked speculation that the old justice might be suffering from age-related mental deterioration. But before any action became necessary, Justice Monaghan retired on her seventy-fifth birthday.
Angie depressed the button on the intercom.
“Who is it?” came a female voice.
