they happen every day. The trick is to discern when
something is more than coincidence.
― Glenn Jones, Introduction to Intelligence Analysis
The Menaced Assassin (L'Assassin menace) (1926) by René Magritte.
Murders in a small town...it sounded like the title of a cheap pulp novel. But Neil Wiltshire was convinced they existed and Neil Wiltshire was a perceptive man.
I was poring over the evidence dump of several unsolved local homicides and statistically speaking, he was right―so many homicides in a three year span in a remote rural area set off warning signals in my brain.
Something was rotten in Willow Grove and it wasn't just corpses mouldering in the coroners' vault―no, there was something diseased in the very heart of the community.
I didn't need data analysis software, geographical information systems or crime mapping to know the small RCMP detachment was in way over their heads.
But what I needed was someone out in the community who could be my eyes and ears to help me gather information to provide the police with actionable intelligence information.
I naturally gravitated to Ella Wiltshire because she was already embedded as owner of the general store in the town and as a cop's kid she'd have grown up already predisposed to be aware of untoward activity.
But because she was Neil's daughter, I had to be doubly careful to use her as a confidential informant and of course, this all presupposed she'd be willing to help me.
"So Dad roped you into working on his case." Ella's eyes were full of sparks. "I could crown him for wrecking your vacation."
"Don't do that―I was intrigued by the case and if you really want to help me then be my eyes and ears on the town. No one else is so well-positioned to observe what's happening in the community."
"You want me to be your CI? Why can't Dad provide background for you?"
I laughed, "He can, because he's a cop, but his information would be limited because of that fact."
"You ask too much of those who like you."
"I know, it's a big ask," I said, giving my best crooked smile that women have told me is charming.
She hesitated as if assaying my motives. "You're quite good at that―you could be quite the charming rogue if you put your mind to it."
"I could," I laughed, "maybe Norman Mailer was right when he said a man becomes a cop to be shielded from his own criminality.”
She arched an eyebrow. "I doubt that in your case, but I can see a spark of passion has been lit in you and I don't want to douse it. Okay, I guess I'm roped into playing a supporting role along side of you."
"I knew I could count on you."
She shook her head slowly. "I'm not sure if that says more about me than about you, but we're definitely on the same wavelength."
I was surprised the way my heart stirred when she accepted my proposal.
I already knew there was a simpatico between us but wasn't sure how far that extended.
But the prospect of working more closely with her day to day made my hear beat a little faster