Race Read Free

thud reverberated as the tray hit Kong on the forehead.   Kong stumbled back, jerked his head and clenched his jaw. His nostrils flared.
    Armand grabbed a binder and a book and threw them at Kong.  
    Kong was ready.   He flicked them aside with his massive hands as if they were nothing.   He charged.
    Armand moved backward, slipped on the tablets, and fell sideways.   His head hit the edge of the desk with a loud crack .   His body slumped to the floor awkwardly, his right arm underneath him, his left turned upward, his legs spread apart, and his neck twisted to one side.  
    Bone protruded from the side of his neck, revealing a lump underneath the skin. His chest was still.   His eyes, empty and hollow, stared up at the ceiling.
    Armand Dempiers was dead.
     
    THREE
     
    When I reached my destination, I exited the streetcar but was greeted by the bright sun.   My eyes took a second to adjust to the glare.   Hadn’t it been raining just a short while ago?
    The Toronto Parking Enforcement Unit is inside the Toronto Police Headquarters, located on College Street.
    The salmon-colored building has a twelve-story tower and a ten-story-high atrium.   From far away it looks like someone stacked granite cubes and glass blocks on top one another, something like those Jenga shapes, where you stack wooden blocks as high as possible until they fall.   Lucky for me, this building was not made out of wooden blocks, so I felt pretty secure going in.   Plus, it had a cool domed roof atop the elevator lobby.
    I got off on my floor and was stopped by the front desk officer.  
    “What happened to you?   You’re all wet,” she said.
    I shook myself slightly, like an animal coming out of a lake, but better.
    “What happened?” she asked again.
    “It’s a long story,” I said, wiping my hair, which was now pretty much dry.   “You wouldn’t want to hear it.”
    “Try me,” Roberta Collecci said.  
    Roberta is in her late forties and has been with the force for twenty-two years.   She was looking at me with one-eyebrow raised.
    We were alone.   I was cornered.   I had to make something up.   And fast.
    I lowered my voice, like a broadcaster: “last night, after I left here, I was driving and minding my own business when I see I’m out of gas.   So I go into this gas station and park behind this Mazda.   This is when I see this one kid.”
    “Just one?” she said.
    I eyed her suspiciously, “Were you following me?” I cleared my throat and lowered my voice again.   “So this kid is sitting in his car while I’m pumping my gas, right.   I could see the kid look at me through his rear-view mirror.    He keeps staring.    Maybe my uniform made him nervous.    But I just keep pumping, when suddenly I see a second kid run out from inside.   He jumps into the Mazda and they drive off.   I knew something was wrong.   So I dropped everything and I chased after them.”
    “You didn’t pay for your gas?” she said.
    My eyes narrowed.   She was right. I didn’t pay for the gas .  
    “I know the owner so it wasn’t a problem,” I said.
    “The owner was certain it was your car that drove away—in pursuit—of the robbers?”
    My eyes were now slits.   “You were following me, weren’t you? Anyways, the robbers realized I was following them so they started speeding, going through red lights, and changing lanes with no signals.   I did the same.   I had no choice.    I had to catch them. I drove like a demon.   This divine force had control over my body.”
    She raised both her eyebrows.
    “Deep, I know,” I said. “So, here I was changing lanes, crossing over, edging past minivans, waving at little children along the way.”  
    “You had time to wave?” she inquired.
    “Yeah, but I always kept one hand on the steering wheel.   You know me, safety first.    Anyways, we did this for almost twenty minutes, them crisscrossing lanes and me in hot pursuit, until, luck would have it—they