The Anvil Centre was already booked tonight, by Mayor Rodney Maxwell's campaign, appropriately enough, otherwise Sunny would have considered it a perfect cap on his own campaign, since he'd begun it there. It was also the scene of his reunion with Jordan and the start of the case that resulted in a shoulder wound and his arm in a sling, so it would have made a fitting scene for the end of it, too.
Since Tori couldn't book the Anvil Centre, she booked the ballroom of the Queensborough Community Centre, not knowing she couldn't have picked a better venue for the Lawrence Street Detective Club, minus one member, to gather and celebrate the end of Sunny's campaign, whether or not he won. This place had featured a lot in their childhood, being the place where they'd received their commendation for helping Danny Trybek; it was also where they'd reunited at the memorial for Mrs. Anderson, and where Sunny had decided to run in this election.
Since his many friends at the gurdwara lived in Queensborough, this ended up being a convenient location for them too, and since Birinder lived here, he and his parents had decided to show up for the occasion, and joined Sunny's parents in conversation at the other end of the room.
Birinder had been released from hospital without any lasting injuries, and visited Sunny in his room when he found out Sunny had basically saved his life by saving his wife's life, not that she would remain his wife much longer.
"I don't know what would have happened to me if you hadn't called Naira... I still can't think of her as Jasminder... that night," he said, taking Sunny's good hand in both of his and pumping it heartily. "They probably would have killed me and dumped my body just like they did with poor Jordan."
"It wasn't just me," Sunny said. "If Naira, your ex, hadn't come to me that night because she saw you being kidnapped on her door camera, and if Jasminder hadn't visited Burnaby Hospital to see my friends, and if my friend Lauren's partner hadn't recognized Jasminder from his police days, we never would have suspected she had anything to do with what happened to you, and we never would have gone to your house to find Jasminder and ask where you were."
Birinder shook his head in awe. "When we met online, I thought she was just a nice, normal woman looking for a relationship herself. How could I have known she had this whole other life?"
"I think deep down she was a nice, normal woman who'd made a few bad choices and paid a terrible price for them, and really was looking for a stable relationship with a man who wouldn't hurt her the way she'd been hurt in the past. Maybe if you hadn't cheated on her, she might never have cooperated with those men in torturing you."
"And you say those men were cops?" Birinder asked in amazement. "I never saw faces, they were wearing ski masks."
"They knew better than to be identified in case you got away. Maybe Jasminder can identify one or two of them now that she's in custody and talking to the police." Tracey and Goncalves had visited him earlier to see how he was holding up, and to inform him Crown prosecutors were making a deal with Jasminder to testify against key players in the conspiracy in return for a lighter sentence.
"Naira, my ex, never told me she was on the run," Birinder said, "or that she was seeing this Jordan fellow, or that he was the one flying the drone at my house, or that he eventually came to my house to look for her, thinking she lived there. I can't help feeling Jordan would still be alive if she'd just done a couple of things differently."
"She was in fight or flight mode for the past few weeks. She had to think of her own well being first. I wouldn't judge her too harshly." Naira wasn't escaping this whole thing without any consequences, either. Once the Sun broke the story, the news had exploded nation-wide, and Naira had become an overnight sensation, either for being a champion against overreach by the security state, or a brown-skinned traitor to the nation and its dedicated constabulary, depending on where you fell on the political spectrum. Some of the comments on social media were horrible; Sunny thought he'd dealt with racism during his political campaign, but Naira had to go into hiding once the shit hit the fan. Her career in the RCMP was over, but Crown prosecutors had taken her in hand and, with the help of various government agencies, found her a place to live and a posting in a small Ontario town with the Ontario Provincial Police; it was probably the one place she could have gone without her beat being surrounded by municipalities served by the Mounties. Out of an abundance of caution, she'd also legally changed her name, just in case any of her new coworkers discovered who she was. Now both women who bore the name of Naira Sandhu had legally changed their names.
Naira had told him all of this over text from the most recent burner phone she was using. She didn't tell him her new name or in which town she was living, but for him it was enough to know she was okay and doing well; as irritating as both of them found each other, they had come to care about each other too, and after the harrowing events of that night, neither of them wanted to lose contact, even if it was just by the occasional text from an untraceable phone. She knew his number would never change, and she'd confessed to him that she found comfort in that.
A large TV on a wheeled stand, like the kind seen in classrooms everywhere, stood in the centre of the ballroom, against the window wall looking out into the grassy field, which wasn't visible beyond the security lights on the outside of the community centre. The TV was tuned to the local news, showing the results of elections in every B.C. municipality. Sunny tried not to stare at it too long, because the results went in alphabetical order by municipality and he was able to guess when New Westminster rolled around, but the numbers were hypnotic.
He made himself look away, and saw his friends hovering in the corner, Lauren sitting in a chair, the rest standing. All of the kids minus Logan were there too, chatting and sampling the food and drink on offer. This gathering was more intimate than the opener, which had been intended to bring in new voters and influence strangers; friends, family and supporters only were at this one. They were dressed less formally than at the opener, too, everybody tired from a long campaign punctuated by gaffes, controversy with the debate, and a front page story in the closing week depicting Sunny as either a hero or a reckless Walter Mitty archetype, depending on the news site. He was happy election day was here, just so he could have one less thing to occupy his time, and he wished he could have joined his friends in dressing down in a sweater and jeans, but he had to look the part tonight, just in case he won, so the suit stayed on.
Tej wrapped an arm around him and said, "How are you doing?"
"Nervous, but otherwise all right."
"And your shoulder?"
"Pain meds and anti-inflammatories are doing wonders. I barely feel it."
She was dressed in her usual skirt suit tonight, as opposed to the form-fitting black dress she'd worn at the opener. She didn't want to be photographed looking sultry in case Sunny won. She didn't want to outshine him, she joked, but he knew it was true; he'd seen men literally stop talking mid-conversation to watch her walk by. Plus, Birinder was here, and she didn't want to give him any more eye candy to look at, now that he was basically separated again, with no ex to console him either.
They strolled together to the LSDC and their families, and Sunny exchanged hugs with his friends, thanking them for coming.
"We saw Regan earlier, too, when we went together to the Nikkei Centre," Lauren said. "She's having a party with her own campaign."
"Oh, how was the Nikkei Centre, by the way?" Tej asked.
"It was... cleansing. Good for the whole family. Regan knew a lot about the Centre, and gave us a lovely tour."
Sunny nodded. "We've promised to call each other with congratulations or condolences, as soon as we know the results one way or the other."
Regan had come to visit him in the hospital too, after she found out what happened to him. "You're going to make Citizen of the Year this time," she said, "after your stunt."
Sunny barked a laugh. "I don't know. The jury's still out on how to interpret what I did."
"Will you be able to do any campaigning in this last week?"
"It depends on when they let me out of here, and then I have to see what's waiting for me at work. I have a bad feeling I won't be able to do much, but Tori said she's going to tout me to the papers, especially now that the story's out."
"I hope you can spin this, somehow. People are still talking about the debate, connecting you with the fight."
"Shit. I was afraid that might happen."
"I'm sorry you got tarred with the actions of other people, but the only thing the audience is going to remember is what was said just before the fight began, and it was the exchange between you and that woman."
"So... I'm screwed, then."
Regan shrugged. "Well, you did get the endorsement from the Labour Council."
"But will it be enough?"
"I guess we'll see. I'm rooting for you, though."
"You, too."
In the end, he and Regan had been able to do one last rally on Friday, a Burma Shave just outside Royal City Centre uptown, on the corner of sixth and sixth. Friends and family of both candidates, and members of the gurdwara, had showed up for one final push, holding signs and waving at passing cars, and a lot of people had recognized him with his sling on and approached him to talk to him about his experience and get his platform. On the drive over there, he'd been encouraged to discover his signs on many lawns, a lot of them abutting houses he'd been sure he'd approached and received a lukewarm response in return. Had they warmed to him because of the news story? He had to wait one more night to be sure.
"You know what this reminds me of?" Rachel asked as they looked out on to the crowd of family and friends from where they stood (and Lauren sat.)
"What does this remind you of?" Sunny asked.
"Christmas, 1980."
Joe turned to look at her, frowning. "How so?"
"The four of us are here, in Queensborough, without Al."
"I'm here," Tej said. "I wasn't there, then."
Rachel huffed in mock frustration. "Okay, fine, if you want to get technical about it, this isn't at all like Christmas, 1980. For one thing, it's not Christmas. For another, it's not 1980."
They all chuckled.
"You're right, though," Lauren said. "Al should be here on your big day, Sunny, supporting you along with the rest of us."
"Yeah," Joe said, to everyone's surprise.
"Has anything changed?" Sunny asked.
"They removed his tube, and he's breathing on his own," Rachel said.
"That's a good sign!" Tej said.
"Now he just has to wake up."
"And they're saying he can wake up?"
"That's the thing. His body is healing incredibly fast, and if his brain is healing as fast, it should only be a matter of time. What we don't know is when."
Tori found them a minute later and said, "Why do you all look so glum? We haven't lost yet." She was back in that gleaming white suit, the most optimistic of them all.
"Sorry," Sunny said. "We're just cognisant that our party is one short."
Tori's face fell. "Oh. Of course. Apologies. This must be a bittersweet occasion, then."
"But Al wouldn't want us sitting vigil around his bed while his buddy needs our support on election night," Rachel said, smiling stiffly, and Sunny's heart broke for her. "I'll see him tomorrow and tell him the good news."
"Only tell him if it's good news," Sunny said. "Otherwise he might take a turn for the worse."
They all chuckled at that, but then they were interrupted by cries erupting from the crowd. "Look, Parharji!" they called. "Look at the numbers!"
Tori whipped around and hurried to the TV. Sunny held himself still, refusing to act too hopeful in case he was disappointed. He grabbed Tej's hand and waited for Tori's reaction.
Three things happened at once.
Tori turned to him with the biggest grin he'd ever seen on her face.
The crowd erupted in cheers, and his friends caught the fever; even Lauren stood with Joe's help and they all clapped him on the back, avoiding his injured shoulder.
Finally, his phone vibrated with an incoming text, and he didn't even have to look at it to know who it was or what it would say, but he looked at it anyway. Of course it was Naira using another phone with a number he didn't recognize, and she must have been following the election over the Internet from wherever she was in Ontario, because her text was only two words long.
Congratulations, Councillor!
Thanks for reaching the end! A happy ending for Sunny, but hardly anyone was left unscathed, and poor Al is still in his coma. If you're worried about him, dear readers, fear not. I wouldn't leave you hanging like this.
If you've enjoyed this novel, please hit "Vote" and send it up the ranks. If anything in this chapter didn't ring true, leave a comment and let me know. I'd love to hear what you think!
And now, let me introduce you to the fifth title in the Terribly Acronymed Detective Club series, "Hidden in the Blood."
https://www.wattpad.com/story/288359436-hidden-in-the-blood-a-novel-of-the-terribly