She eventually found a tip number on one of the news articles about the murder, titled Montreal or Monstreal? Unicorn Murder Rocks the City. Nita rolled her eyes at the pun, but called the tip line. She flicked the phone onto speaker so Kovit could hear what she was doing.

It rang a moment, and then there was a click and a prerecorded message told her everything was confidential and that she was encouraged to give as much information as possible. She was given an option to record a message and leave it for the police or to speak to a live person. She clicked the number for the person.

The phone ticked, and then she was on with an operator.

“Hello, this is the INHUP tip line.”

“Hi. I have information for Agent Vidthuvitsai about the unicorn murder in Montreal.”

“What kind of information?”

“I’ll only speak to her.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not authorized to pass you to Agent Vidthuvitsai without more information.”

Nita hesitated, then covered the receiver and asked Kovit. “What was your mother’s name?”

He blinked. “Thida.”

“Tell her that it’s connected to the death of Thida ten years ago.”

“Pardon?”

“You heard me. Pass it on, please. I’ll hold.”

“It may be a while, ma’am. There are a lot of tips.”

“She’ll want this one. Trust me.”

There was a tinny click and then the elevator music started. Kovit fidgeted on the seat, and Nita paced across the room.

“What if she doesn’t respond?” Kovit’s leg bounced, and his fingers tapped against the seat.

“She will.”

“They may not pass it on.”

“They will.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, face pinched with worry.

Nita had opened her mouth to say something when the line clicked back on.

“This is Agent Vidthuvitsai.”

Across from her, Kovit stiffened at the sound of his sister’s voice. His whole body stilled, and the expression that crossed his face was strange, part fear, part longing.

Nita blinked. “That was fast.”

“It was an interesting message you left.”

“I’m glad it got your attention.”

There was a short pause and then a soft whisper, small and faint and barely audible. “Is he okay?”

Nita’s throat tightened, and across the room, Kovit’s face broke a little, confused joy whispering across his features, as though he couldn’t quite believe his sister still cared about him.

“Yes. But not for long. Can we meet?”

“Where are you?

“Toronto.”

“Tomorrow, then.” There was a short hesitation as they both realized this was being recorded by INHUP and they probably shouldn’t be revealing anything incriminating on it. “I’ll give you my personal cell phone number. Text me, and we’ll make arrangements.”

Nita wrote down the number Agent Vidthuvitsai rattled off and then hung up. She texted on the burner phone. Tomorrow morning, 10am. The mall at Eglington and Yonge, in front of the Pickle Barrel.