Read Online Murder at McDonald's by Phonse; Jessome - Free Book Online Page A

away.” Cleary wanted to use Storm to search the basement, so that officers would not be put at risk.
    Other traffic on the radio kept Trickett from hearing Cleary’s call. Jesty cleared the channel. “Go ahead, Kevin, give him a call again.”

    The crew training room at McDonald’s, where Henry Jantzen waited, sweating, for backup from fellow officers. [RCMP crime scene photo.]
    â€œThree-zero-six, do you copy? Come in as soon as you can. We want you to check out the inside. We got several down, and we need you to check inside and, ah, Stan, call other PDs.” Cleary wanted roadblocks set up in the area, and the RCMP did not have enough officers for the job. Jesty called municipal police in-Sydney, Glace Bay, Dominion, North Sydney, Sydney Mines, Louisbourg, New Waterford, and Eskasoni. Every available law-enforcement officer in the area would help in any way possible. Cleary instructed Jesty to call RCMP in Port Hawkesbury, about 150 kilometres away; he wanted a roadblock at the Canso Causeway, the man-made link that joins Cape Breton Island to mainland Nova Scotia. Cleary was going to take advantage of geography. No flights were leaving Cape Breton at that hour, and he would make sure that no-one responsible for the carnage in McDonald’s would simply drive off the island into the night.
    As Cleary made those arrangements, Corporal John Trickett arrived with Storm. Officers already at the scene were happy to see the big German shepherd; in the years since Storm had been posted to the Sydney subdivision, he had helped nearly all of them out of tough situations, his mighty bark prompting more than one criminal to call out from a building that he was prepared to surrender. Storm knew he was about to go to work, and was leaping back and forth in the back of the big four-wheel-drive truck as Trickett came to a stop in the parking lot. As the big truck shook under the dog’s weight, the other officers thought about why Storm was there—that he was trained to take a bullet to protect any of them. A sickening feeling settled into their stomachs as they realized he might have to do just that in the moments ahead. But none of them said anything about it.
    Corporal Trickett went over to Kevin Cleary and got a quick rundown on the situation. Henry Jantzen had already reported finding locked offices, and he had come across an open room where he saw a door held open by some kind of bag; he had backed away from the room but was keeping it in his sights. Jantzen enjoyed working out on the target range, and now he wondered if all that practice would prove useful. He knew he could empty, reload, and empty his gun again into a target in a matter of seconds, and drew some comfort from that knowledge as he watched the open door.
    Comfort was just what the young constable needed. Sweat matted the burly officer’s flyaway hair and rolled down his back, staining his uniform shirt. It seemed an eternity had passed since he pushed open that basement door to find Arlene MacNeil lying on the floor, inhaling her own blood. Every sound in the eerie atmosphere of the restaurant basement was amplified; compressors from the pop fountain and freezers clicked and hummed unexpectedly, heightening his anxiety. After Arlene was whisked away by the ambulance attendants, Jantzen moved gingerly through the basement, all too aware that a culprit, or culprits, could be in one of those rooms he passed. His pulse quickened as he tried the doors; they were all locked. But there were more doors ahead and, ready to react to any sound, he crept ahead, his gun held out in front of him. He hoped he would not have to test the skill he knew he had.
    Outside, Corporal Trickett was expressing doubts that Storm could work inside the restaurant. The dog would become so agitated by the presence of the two bodies that Trickett felt he would not be able to accurately read Storm’s reactions. Cleary decided he would use the officers on the