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"Ruin has come to our family."
Mark's life is turned upside down from the murder of a loved one, turning all his friends' lives upside down as well. David Barnaby is on the case however, to bring retribution on the culprit.

---

Dan stared at the floor, waiting. He held a beer in his paw as he sat on the leather couch Mark had given him before he moved away. He took a swig of the beer and sighed. His phone buzzed, and he jumped. He pulled it out and answered it. “Hey honey bear.”
Lance giggled on the other end. “Don’t call me that. How you holding up? Is Mark there yet?”
“No, he isn’t here yet. He’s an hour late. As for how I’m holding up… I’m a little scared.”
“Don’t be. Mark’s your friend, he hasn’t changed just because-”
There was a loud knock at the door. “Shit, that’s probably him. Gotta go, honey bear.”
“Love you too.”
He hung up, then stood. The knock came again. “Yeah, yeah. Hold on, man, I’m coming!”
He unlocked and opened the door. It was indeed Mark. They looked at each other for a moment, then embraced. Dan patted Mark’s back. “Hey. I… Heard what happened.”
Mark’s speech was suspiciously slurred. “Yeah… I can still stay, right?”
Dan broke the hug and stepped back. “Mark… are you drunk?”
Mark nodded slowly. “Yeah…”
Dan grabbed his arm and dragged him to the couch. “Jesus, you drove here like this? The fuck?”
Dan went into the kitchen to get some water. His apartment wasn’t big, but it was cozy and looked surprisingly nice. Mark yelled to him. “I figure I have the right, Dan. I figure I’ve got the motherfucking right!”
He picked up Dan’s beer and drained it. Dan sat down beside him and gave him a glass. Mark looked at it. “Dan, I don’t want water.”
“Drink.”
He sighed. “Fine.”
He drank the water as well, then leaned back on the couch. “You still have this thing, eh?”
“Yeah-”
“You practically stole it from me y’know.”
“Mark. That’s not true and you know it.”
Mark just made a ‘pff’ sound. Dan looked back at the floor again. “Look, Mark, I know you’re hurting right now-”
“Don’t you fucking start.” Mark hissed as he jabbed a finger at Dan. “I came here to stay, not to have my psyche analyzed.”
Dan looked at Mark’s fingers. “Where’s your ring…?”
“Drop. It.”
Dan shut his mouth. Mark nodded drunkenly and grabbed the TV remote. In an hour, he was snoring. Dan was fixing a broken shelf when the snores reached his ears, and he momentarily abandoned the task to quickly drape a blanket over Mark. He sat down beside him and reached under the blanket, searching Mark’s pockets. He pulled out a wedding band, twenty four karat gold, with a little ‘ML’ engraved on it in fancy lettering. He looked at it sadly, then looked at his own ring. Silver, with a beautiful piece of cubic zirconium set into it. Another knock at the door made him jump, and Mark snort, but not wake. He could tell who it was just from the knock. Placing the ring on the coffee table, He walked over to the door, unlocked it and pulled Lance inside. They entered the living room and sat on the love-seat. “Lance, you need to stop forgetting your keys.”
Lance tugged Dan into a more comfortable position. He couldn’t help but notice how tense he was. “Yeah, I know. You should make a key rack.”
“Yeah, I’ll do that. How was work?”
“Soul sucking as usual.”
Dan chuckled. “I’ve got half a mind to go over to that boss of yours and demand he give you that promotion.”
Lance rested his head on Dan’s as they both looked over at Mark. Lance sniffed the air. “That’s not you, is it?”
“No. He drove here like that too.”
“Shit…”
They both sat in silence for a while. The blanket over Mark rose and fell gently. Dan sighed. “What are we going to do with him?”
“Take care of him, of course.”
“He doesn’t want to be taken care of. He cussed me out, you know.”
“What would you do if I died?”
Dan was taken aback, then realized the purpose of the question. “Um… Probably get shitfaced and be mad all the time.”
“Exactly. You can’t blame him, really. Leanna was the best thing in his life, and vice versa.”
Dan closed his eyes and snuggled into Lance’s chest. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I believe him.”
Lance said nothing.

~~~

Summer was in full swing, there was no doubt about it. Not many were safe from the heat, especially in the heart of the city. The Royal Newfoundland Constabulary Police Department was sweltering. The little fan in the head detective’s office did nothing to cool anything. David Barnaby saw a great deal of cases come across his desk, but he took only a small portion of them. It was joked that if he could, he would take every case in the province. He wasn’t a particularly world renown homicide detective, or indeed known in the city of St Johns, but he tried his damnedest to keep the streets as clean as he could. His diligence, quick wit and unwavering conviction had earned him a lot of respect on the force, and with his partner, Hal Locke. He entered David’s office with a stack of files. Hal (a fox) was built strangely, his shoulders were broad and he had muscles for days, but he was very skinny. The only shirts that fit his shoulders would hang loosely around his chest. He wore a simple shirt and tie. David had his feline muzzle in a book as the stack was dumped onto his desk. “Alright, Dave, time to get to work.”
David slammed the book shut. “Finally! I thought the copy machine ate you. Let’s see what we’ve got then.”
David was built like a freight train, and his mildly lofty age did nothing to temper the raw power in his body. He didn’t show it though, being slightly chubby and unassuming. His lineage was practically untraceable, being a mix of so many feline breeds it was impossible to tell which was dominant. His eyes were a piercing gray, and almost nothing escaped his gaze. He picked up the top file as Hal gave him the run down on it. “Simple hit and run, possible premeditation. Happened over near Brother Rice, car was identified by one of the students to belong to Fred Winslow, another student. Victim was a teacher. They can’t find the kid or the car anywhere.”
He tossed it aside. “Give it to Jonesy, might get him the promotion he’s always harping on about.”
The next file was thicker. “That one’s a bit tough, we’ve had it for over a month without any breakthroughs. Work crews found a severed head on the second floor of the old city hall belonging to a guy from the states - some rich philanthropist. The feds are on this one too, and there’s a lot of pressure from his family.”
“Pass.”
The next file was one page long. Hal waved his paw. “Oh, that’s a suicide, nothing in that one.”
“Why is it here then?”
“Default. Husband says she wasn’t even the slightest bit depressed, even adds that we can ‘do anything’ to find out who murdered her. Her file, however, says she’s had a long history of depression. Give it to one of the young aspiring officers, they-”
“I’m taking it.”
Hal laughed. “You’re the boss. Smell anything?”
“Fish.”
He waved the file. “This case reeks of fish.”

One of the best perks of being a detective, at least to David, was getting to use his own car. And it was a cool one. Somewhat of a car enthusiast, he had chosen a 1978 Lincoln Continental as the car of his choice. Of course it was a long time before he ever found one at an affordable price. Hal sighed as David opened the driver’s side door. “Let’s take my car, Dave. You know I don’t like this old gas guzzler.”
“Get in, we’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”
Hal shrugged and folded himself into the passenger seat. David started the car and pulled out of the driveway. “You got the files on the victim?”
Hal took out the file. “Yes. What do you want to know?”
“A name would be good.”
Hal looked at the file. “…Leanna Tyler, twenty six. Unemployed, married as I said before.”
They pulled onto the streets and headed downtown. “And the husband?”
“Mark Tyler, twenty eight. Works as a bartender at a really high class joint.”
David thought for a moment. “Did Leanna have any relatives?”
He flipped the page. “Uh… Distant cosines… an uncle… and a brother who lives here in town.”
“Name.”
“Robert Brown. They sent someone over to break the news to him a couple days ago.”
“Make sure he knows I’ll be visiting.”
“Is that where we’re going?”
David took a left along a row of apartment buildings. “Crime scene first.”
He pulled up in front of one of the buildings. It was regular brown brick, and looked very normal for a building containing a possible homicide crime scene. They walked into the lobby, where a little woman was sitting behind a desk watching TV. She glanced over. “Hey, you don’t live here!”
David took out his badge and let the woman look at it. Her expression changed. “Oh, you must be here for… Upstairs, third floor, apartment eight.”
She tossed a key onto the counter. David pocketed his badge. “Actually, I’d like to have a word with you, if you don’t mind.”
She switched off the TV. “Of course. A-anything to help.”
Hal got out his pocket recorder and started recording. “You’re the landlady?”
“Yes, sir.”
“No need to call me sir. Dave will do. Did you know Leanna well?”
The woman nodded slightly. “Well, I try to get to know all me tenants. We chatted sometimes, with her and Mark. Ooh, they were such a cute couple. Damn shame what happened.”
David nodded. “Indeed. And they were happy? No fights or anything like that?”
“No… I had to tell them to keep their volume down a few times, but nothing for anything bad. Though they say… what was it? Sixty percent of people with depression don’t show it?”
David glanced at Hal, who nodded. “I believe that’s the correct statistic.”
“And where is Mark now?”
“Oh, he came by after he went to the station… He looked like a different person. He gave me his keys and left, to go stay with a friend he said.”
“Did he say exactly where he was going?”
“No, though it was probably with that red panda… Michael? I think?”
David thanked the woman as Hal stopped the recorder. He stepped past her to go, (picking up the key as he went) then turned back and handed her his card. “If you think of anything else that might be relevant, don’t hesitate to call.”
The woman nodded. “I won’t.”
David and Hal ascended the stairs. Hal speculated. “It’s starting to look a little more fishy, Dave. You may be right.”
“Right? I just said it was fishy, not that she was murdered.”
He pointed to Hal’s forehead. “Don’t rule out suicide yet.”
Hal nodded. “This might be the one time I hope it’s murder.”

The door to Mark and Leanna’s apartment was taped over with crime scene tape, of course. David unlocked it and stepped under the tape. The apartment was still and clean. To their left lay a chalk outline of where Leanna’s body had been and a couple evidence markers. David crouched by the outline. “Photos, please.”
Hal handed him his tablet, crime scene photos displayed on it. David looked over each one, carefully inspecting every detail. He paid particular attention to the photos of Leanna herself. “The scars?”
Hal looked at the photo. “Oh, hold on…”
He flipped through all the info in the file. “Fire, happened when she was seventeen. It’s suspected she might have been the cause. She had forty percent burns on her chest, arms and back, head injury from a fallen beam and she lost an ear. Both her parents died in the same fire.”
“Rough break, kiddo…”
“Sorry?”
“Just talking to myself. That’s where these come from, then?”
He pointed to where the bottle of pills still lay. Hal nodded. “They’re prescribed to her, anyway.”
“Call Phillips.”
Hal put the call on speaker. Soon the coroner’s voice came over the phone. “Hey, Hal. I was expecting a call from you.”
David spoke before Hal could. “Give me everything you have, Philips.”
Phillips was silent for a moment. “You could at least say hi.”
“Dave’s in all business mode, you’re not going to get any small talk from him. Better give him the report.”
Phillips muttered to himself, then cleared his throat. “Alright. The body has been identified as Leanna Tyler. She was found about six hours after her death, her stomach contents show the last thing she ate was so far gone we couldn’t identify it. Cause of death: vicodin overdose.”
David stood. “Thank you, Phillips.”
He walked into the couple’s bedroom. Hal followed him as he hung up the phone. Dave stood in the room, observing it for a moment. Hal looked up at him. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking we need to find signs she was depressed. If we don’t, we might have a murder on our paws.”
And so the search began. It started in the bedroom. Nothing of note was uncovered there, just an assortment of irrelevant objects (some better left where they lay). Hal did find a laptop, and sat trying to free it’s lockout as David continued his search. He opened the closet. Boxes sat within. Most had shoes. One held a photo album. David opened it, only to find it was old, and showed Mark (Clear from what the photos said on their backs) as a child. Not relevant. The bottom most box was wooden. He opened it, and to his surprise saw a gun. He identified it as a collectors edition BB gun, not a real one. Though there were real bullets under it, as well as multiple hunting and gun licenses. He took out one of the licenses, expecting to find Mark’s name on them, only to discover that they were Leanna’s licenses. The box was thick, but strangely shallow. He removed the items and shook the box. It rattled. He examined the bottom, and found that the wood came loose to reveal a not so hidden compartment. There was nothing inside but a book. He removed it and opened it. He had hit the jackpot: it was a diary. “I found her diary!”
“Really? Let’s see!”
They went out into the living room and sat. David opened to the first page and began to read aloud.

~~~

Mark came awake suddenly. He did not recognize the ceiling. He did not recognize the bed, either. It wasn’t even a bed. He looked around for Leanna-

A cold shot ran through his body. He lay back and did not move. He could not stop the tears from coming, and didn’t even try to stop them, or especially care. More things came back to him, the previous night, among others. Mark never forgot things he did while drunk, and he didn’t then. He heard sounds from the kitchen, and smelled pancakes. His stomach grumbled and his head ached. He didn’t move. Soon he heard humming and plates being retrieved. The song that was playing in the kitchen was an odd one. Very atmospheric and sad. The song started a little hopeful, the singer sounding very calm as he sang about someone he was losing. In a minute or two the music took over a bit, and the singer sounded almost is disbelief, before finishing the song with what Mark could only describe as wails of pain. He hauled himself up and croaked into the kitchen. “Turn that off.”
Lance looked behind him and turned down the bluetooth speaker. “Mark, you’re awake. What was that? I didn’t hear-”
“Turn off the music!”
Lance almost dropped his phone as he complied. “S-sorry! I didn’t know it was bothering you…”
Mark felt bad then. ‘There’s no need to take out your anger on him. After he took you in, too!’ he thought.
He sat up. “Sorry, sorry about that. Who was that, anyway? Certainly not Motorhead.”
Lance chuckled. “No, something Dan got me into. An indie band. Their next album Is set for early 2027 and I can’t wait. It’ll be their ninth. That was their second.”
“Only a year to wait.”
Lance nodded. “I just don’t know who’s more excited, me or Dan.”
He took another pancake from the pan and shoveled it onto a plate. In a moment he carried a stack out and placed it on the coffee table in front of Mark, He sat next to Mark. “How are you feeling?”
Mark looked at the pancakes for a moment. “Like shit.”
Lance placed a paw on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Mark. You’ll pull through.”
Mark picked up the plate and cut into the food. “I don’t know.”
Lance patted him. “Baby steps. Eat up.”
He stood and returned to cooking. He left a plate in the microwave for Dan, and shoveled one down himself. He then slipped on his shoes and grabbed his keys. “I’m going to work now. Please try not to stay on the couch all day.”
Mark just continued eating his food slowly, with a nod in Lance’s direction. He sighed and left, yelling through the apartment. “Bye, Dan!”
There was a sleepy groan of affirmation from Dan. As Mark ate, he began to think. What would he do now? Live on as though the last eight years of his life never happened? He didn’t know what was going to happen. He was scared, angry and confused all at once. He wanted more than anything in the world to hold Leanna in him arms. He smacked himself in the head. ‘Stop it. It’s those kinds of thoughts that ruin people. You’ve gotta be strong. You think Leanna would want to see you be a pathetic couch potato? No! Stop being a pussy!’
The more he shouted at himself internally, the worse he felt. Instead he focused on the pancakes. As he finished, he noticed his ring on the coffee table. He picked it up, slipped it on and turned on the TV.

An hour passed before Dan emerged from the bedroom. Dan was never a morning person. Even when he was going to school, he would always sleep in and get to class a few minutes late. He turned on the microwave and sat on the couch with Mark. “Hey bud.”
Mark wasn’t really watching what was on TV. He turned to Dan. “I’m sorry for how I acted, Dan. I… I’m an angry drunk, I guess.”
“No, don’t apologize… You got work soon or…?”
“They gave me paid leave.”
“That’s nice of them…”
Mark made his best effort to smile. “Dan, you don’t have to act different. I’m the same Mark, ok?”
Dan sighed. “If you say so… So, um… Who d-did it?”
Mark was silent for a while. “I don’t… know. I just know it couldn’t be suicide… She was happy. We were happy.”
Dan nodded. “I believe you.”
He jumped as his phone buzzed. He answered it. “Hi, Jill.”
Jill sounded on edge. “Dan, Mark’s not answering his texts. Wasn’t he supposed to be at your place by now?”
“He’s sitting next to me.”
There was a little gasp from the other end. “I’m on my way.”
The phone hung up. Dan looked at it quizzically. “Huh. Do you have your phone on you?”
“No it’s- … on top of the fridge. In my apartment”
Dan nodded. “Ok. Jill’s on her way over.”
Mark honestly did not want any more people telling him how sorry they were. “Is she bringing the kid?”
“I don’t know. Probably not.”
Mark leaned back. “I guess we’re having a guest or two…”