Detective Mellon removed his earbuds as he eyed the body.
\u2014 Let me guess, I\u2019m keen to guess, said Detective Cartier. Slayer? Megadeth? I know, Five Finger Death Punch.
By way of reply Detective Mellon started humming a tune, immediately prompting Detective Cartier to hold up his hands palms outward in protest.
\u2014 No, no, if you start with that \u201cFreude sch\u00f6ner G\u00f6tterfunken\u201d crap again, I swear there is going to be a second murder here today.
\u2014 Music is god\u2019s gift to humanity.
\u2014 The value of the gift depends on the value of the music.
\u2014 I suppose.
Staring down at the body \u2013 bearded male, white, between 40 and 50 years of age, dressed casually \u2013 Detective Mellon had an urge to nudge it with the toe of his shoe, he wasn\u2019t sure why: perhaps to doubly confirm that the dead man was dead; perhaps some atavistic impulse to touch death before death touched him. Resisting the urge he squatted to examine more closely the body sprawled on the cracked pavement of the laneway.
\u2014 An ice-pick impaled in the crown of a head. Now, you don\u2019t see that every day, do you, J.C.? said Detective Mellon.
\u2014 Not hardly. Like something out of Castle<\/i>.
\u2014 I loved that show.
\u2014 Me too, said Detective Cartier. Especially Stana Katic.
\u2014 I couldn\u2019t agree more: she was incandescent. Our poor fellow here, not so much; whatever glow he had is gone. By the look of it, he was probably dead by the time the ice-pick entered the head.
\u2014 Or well on his way. Judging by the bright colour of the blood, it was his carotid artery that did him in \u2013 severed or nearly so. The blood patterns show he exsanguinated in nice large spurts. He would have had only a few seconds left.
\u2014 The head stabbing was a superfluous coup de gr\u00e2ce<\/i>.
\u2014 You would need a goodly amount of force to pierce the skull like that. Serious anger at play here.
\u2014 What did you find out, Constable? asked Detective Mellon.
\u2014 Too much. It seems like no one is heartsick that Mr. Bader, first name Henry, short for Heinrich, is dead. Quite the opposite, in fact.
\u2014 No weeping widow? No tear-stained kids, noses pressed against the windowpanes, peering anxiously out for the return of dear daddy?
\u2014 I almost had to remind the daughter who the deceased was. They hadn\u2019t spoken in over ten years. Some ill will there.
\u2014 Did you find out the source of the ill will?
\u2014 \u201cIll will\u201d is in fact putting it too mildly by half. Her antipathy was so palpable it led me to think that Mr. Bader might have done something unthinkable to her way back when. The minute I started to pursue the subject she ended the interview.
\u2014 Which is a confirmation of sorts.
\u2014 Certainly not clear-cut but, yeah, of sorts.
\u2014 How is she as a suspect?
\u2014 I will have to check out her alibi but I can\u2019t see her waiting a decade for payback.
\u2014 The other kids?
\u2014 Grown up and about as grief-stricken as the widow. All have alibis that need checking.
\u2014 What about the widow?
\u2014 On hearing the news she just nodded, and kept on nodding, with a certain satisfied smirk. If I had to guess, I would guess that buried within that tired, middle-aged woman was a long-suppressed spirit who wanted to flip somersaults out of sheer relief, if not joy. Her alibi is solid.
\u2014 Is that her over there?
\u2014 Yes, that\u2019s her.
\u2014 She wears that downtrodden, beleaguered look we have seen too often amongst the battered and bruised.
\u2014 That was my impression as well, Detective, supported by the purple welt alongside her left eye. The consensus seems to be that someone did the world a favour.
\u2014 Well done, Jones. Continue the interviews, said Detective Mellon.
\u2014 Yessir.
\u2014 If no one cares that Bader is dead then no one wanted him alive, said Detective Cartier. I guess we don\u2019t have to bust our hump trying to solve a murder that no one gives two hoots about.
\u2014 No one except Mr. Bader, answered Detective Mellon.
\u2014 He\u2019s beyond caring, don\u2019t you think?
\u2014 Jake, sometimes I despair of you, I truly do. A crime has been committed \u2013 a serious crime, the most serious there is \u2013 and we have a job to do, no matter what people thought of the deceased. You may recall that pesky oath we took to discharge our duties faithfully? Our duty at this moment is to solve a murder.
\u2014 And by jiminy we will! Even if we have to work night and day, day and night, winter and summer. When we put on this badge we took on a mission.
\u2014 To speak for the dead?
\u2014 Sure, why not? But before we start speaking for anyone, what\u2019s say we get a beer, Kyle, you know, to charge our batteries to the utmost. Hunting vile killers requires a full load.
\u2014 I was thinking more along the lines of interviewing potential witnesses, searching for clues, you know, job-related type things.
\u2014 Of course, of course. You\u2019re right. You realize I was only kidding. Trying to lighten the leaden mood of a murder scene.
\u2014 Oh, yes, I am well familiar with your sense of humour. I spend half my day trying to suppress my laughter.
\u2014 Glad to hear it.
\u2014 Well, then, can we begin?
\u2014 I am chafing at the bit. What\u2019s the plan, Mr. Law and Order?
\u2014 That\u2019s Detective<\/i> Law and Order, if you please. We are going to interview a Mr. Pebbles.<\/p>\n
***<\/p>\n
\u2014 Thanks for speaking with us, Mr. Pebbles, said Detective Cartier, who towered over the diminutive Mr. Pebbles. The tall detective had been an all-city shooting guard in high school and enjoyed the simple act of being taller than other people. He moved a bit closer to Mr. Pebbles in order to accentuate the height difference.
\u2014 As if I had a choice. And it\u2019s not \u201cPebbles\u201d; it\u2019s Prebbles \u2013 I mean Prebble; there\u2019s only one of me.
\u2014 Are you sure about the name? asked Detective Cartier. I have \u201cPebbles\u201d written down here. If you can\u2019t trust the written word, what can you trust?
\u2014 I know my own name.
\u2014 Unless you are not who you say you are.
\u2014 Of course I am. I\u2019ve known me all my life.
\u2014 And you expect us just to take your word for it?
\u2014 Here is my government-issued ID. My driver\u2019s licence, my OHIP card, my Law Society card.
\u2014 Law Society card? Why would you have a Law Society card?
\u2014 I\u2019m a lawyer.
\u2014 Wonderful. This day keeps getting better and better. What can you tell us, Mr. Prebble, about the deceased?
\u2014 Henry and I were neighbours.
\u2014 We know, said Detective Mellon, taking point. That\u2019s why we are talking to you. Can you tell us something more helpful?
\u2014 Well, he was definitely a piece of work, he was.
\u2014 What do you mean \u201ca piece of work\u201d?
\u2014 He took no guff. He stood up for what he believed.
\u2014 You\u2019re a bear for detail, aren\u2019t you. Could you manage to be a bit more specific?
\u2014 I want you first to be aware, Officer \u2014
\u2014 It\u2019s \u201cDetective\u201d. As in Detective Mellon.
\u2014 I want you to know, Detective, that I have no obligation as a citizen or as a lawyer to report possible criminal activity.
\u2014 That\u2019s not true, said Detective Cartier. If you suspect child abuse, for example, you have a duty to report it.
\u2014 I am not aware of Henry committing child abuse.
\u2014 That was just an example.
\u2014 The example ends there. Do you have any other questions?
\u2014 You still haven\u2019t answered my first, resumed Detective Mellon. What do you mean by saying he stood up for what he believed?
\u2014 If he saw a wrong he righted it, by fair means or foul.
\u2014 Such as?
\u2014 Such as \u2013 I\u2019ll give you an example \u2013 about a year ago our neighbourhood underwent a change, from quiet and family-oriented to a busy midnight stroll for hookers.
\u2014 I know. I heard. What does that have to do with our Mr. Bader?
\u2014 He was indignant about it, up in arms. The needles. The used condoms. The girls flaunting themselves. The unending procession of cars at 2:00 in the morning, our little streets congested like a major arterial road at rush hour. Children live in this neighbourhood, you know. Henry grew up around here and took its changes personally.
\u2014 I get it: he was upset. I am guessing it wasn\u2019t that he had a moral objection to the night-time activities.
\u2014 The Bible was the only book he read. But, no, it wasn\u2019t solely the immorality, the girls, the drugs, and the rest in and of themselves. It was also about property values. If those sorts of goings-on were allowed to continue, he \u2013 we all of us, in fact \u2013 feared that this formerly quiet residential neighbourhood would become another Moss Park. Nice people move out. Undesirables move in. Values plummet. Equity vanishes: poof, gone. Sure, he was worried; his life savings were invested in his house.
\u2014 What did he do about it?
\u2014 What didn\u2019t he do? He contacted the police, repeatedly. Nada. He circulated a petition that went to his councillor and to the mayor. Zilch. He organized community protests. Oh, there was initial interest but that soon faded; few people wanted to be out picketing prostitutes in the middle of the night, night after night. He went so far as to stick \u201cgo-home\u201d-type flyers under the windshield wipers of the slowly cruising cars. That produced some highly spirited exchanges, I can tell you. In the end, nothing improved, not a thing. He also wrote to his MPP and his MP.
\u2014 Did they help?
\u2014 He did receive nice, encouraging letters in response; lots of concern but no action. None. Zip. He even consulted me about legal proceedings. I was forced to tell him the hard truth: they would be expensive, time-consuming, and futile. He might be able to get an injunction against Jane Doe but tomorrow Mary Roe takes Jane\u2019s place. You are no further ahead but poorer in pocket.
\u2014 He righted wrongs. How did he right this wrong?
\u2014 I don\u2019t know. I honestly don\u2019t, but I do know one thing: the problem ended, and abruptly. I have no doubt he was instrumental in ending it. One day about a year ago I was performing my usual Saturday-morning ritual of sweeping up dirty condoms from the rear laneway when he walked by. I asked him if he was undertaking any further steps to clean up the neighbourhood. He said he was adopting a new game-plan and that a few weeks should see the problem fixed. He didn\u2019t say anything more and I didn\u2019t ask any more questions.
\u2014 Why not?
\u2014 Obviously I wanted the hookers gone as well. They weren\u2019t helping my property values any more than his, that\u2019s for sure. I got the impression talking to him that he planned on taking steps that were more extreme than I wanted to know about. Just an impression, nothing more, that I got from the weird look on his face.
\u2014 And you have no obligation to report possible criminal activity.
\u2014 As I said before.
\u2014 By the way, said Detective Cartier, what was it that made this area so attractive to the women?
\u2014 As best I can figure, we are close to a major road where the tarts could strut their stuff, and then there are a lot of laneways behind the houses where they could conclude their filthy business with some privacy.
\u2014 Wouldn\u2019t floodlights in the laneways have solved that problem?
\u2014 We tried that, over and over again, but the lights kept getting smashed. We also tried video surveillance but the cameras didn\u2019t fare any better than the lights. All very expensive.
\u2014 Too bad. Is there anything else you can tell us about Mr. Bader? asked Detective Mellon
\u2014 There is one thing. And frankly it\u2019s been weighing on my mind. Pretty heavily. I hadn\u2019t told anyone before, though I\u2019ve been tempted to. Since he\u2019s dead it can\u2019t hurt telling you now.
\u2014 What is it?
\u2014 He hated cyclists.
\u2014 Bicycle riders? Why?
\u2014 The real question is why not? Self-entitled Lycra-clad scofflaws. They get in our way, slowing traffic. Ignore stop signs. Ride on sidewalks. A menace to cars and pedestrians alike. And cycle lanes, horrible invention, taking space away from the car. Rob Ford, may he rest in peace, had the right idea: just rip the damn things out, like he did on Jarvis Street.
\u2014 Yes, yes, cyclists, the scourge of the earth; should be licensed and insured before being granted the privilege and honour of using the public roadways that their taxes help pay for. I feel your pain. This is all relevant how?
\u2014 Be patient; I\u2019m getting there. Henry used to do punishment passes for the fun of it. You know what they are, don\u2019t you?
\u2014 Yes.
\u2014 He once said to me, \u201cI\u2019m going to hurt one of them one of these days. I just know I am. I can\u2019t help it.\u201d And he did. Six months ago a young girl was riding with her father down Woodbine Avenue towards the lake when he deliberately swerved his SUV into her lane and knocked her off her bike. She was hurt. Pretty badly, I heard. I am guessing his aim was the father. Either way, I can\u2019t say I condone his action. In fact it bothers the hell out of me. Hurting people is a step too far, a big step. And a mere child no less! But, still. Frigging cyclists. A lesson needs to be learned. Anyway, that\u2019s the kind of person he was.
\u2014 Was he charged with an offence?
\u2014 Nope. No one knew it was him. Got away scot-free.
\u2014 I see, I see. Constable Jones, can you take the rest of Pebbles\u2019 statement for me? His courtroom baritone grates on my nerves.
Mr. Prebble was about to protest the insult and the re-misuse of his name but the look in Detective Mellon\u2019s eyes told him that silence was the wisest option.
\u2014 Two dead prostitutes a year ago. Both plied their trade around here. Tell me, J.C., what do you think the chances are that Pebbles didn\u2019t know about them and who was responsible?
\u2014 Zilch. Zip.<\/p>\n
***<\/p>\n
The house was a modest, red-brick rowhouse in the St. Lawrence Neighbourhood. Taking it a notch above the run-of-the-mill was a popular children\u2019s playground and a park with a basketball court a stone\u2019s throw away. Detective Mellon introduced himself and Detective Cartier to the balding, bespectacled man who answered the doorbell. After putting away his badge, Detective Mellon spoke.
\u2014 I am terribly sorry about your daughter, Mr. Leung. How is she doing?
\u2014 As well as can be expected, Officer. Thanks for asking, although I assume that inquiring about Celeste\u2019s health is not the purpose of your visit.
\u2014 It is not.
\u2014 Then why are you here?
\u2014 Don\u2019t you know?
\u2014 Suppose I do. But you have to say it.
\u2014 Mr. Leung, we have reason to believe that you were involved in the death of a Mr. Heinrich Bader.
\u2014 Involved? What does that mean?
\u2014 It means that we believe you killed him.
\u2014 An interesting belief. Of all the doors in all the houses in all the world, what brought you to mine?
\u2014 Do you use a GoPro or something similar when you go cycling, Mr. Leung?
\u2014 That\u2019s an odd question. As a matter of fact I do. Why do you ask?
\u2014 It was a guess. I figured that under the circumstances few people would have had the presence of mind to note the plate number.
\u2014 It was recorded on video. The whole scene. The attempted homicide of a glorious thirteen-year-old girl who only brought joy and love into the world.
\u2014 And then you performed an MTO plate search, which gave you Heinrich Bader\u2019s name. After that, finding out where he lived was not difficult. The MTO search brought us to your door: searches leave a record.
\u2014 As do hospital stays, added Detective Cartier. There were a limited number of bike-riding young girls who were the victims of a hit-and-run six months ago. But what puzzles us is why you didn\u2019t bring your evidence to the police. We could have charged him.
\u2014 To what end? To be charged with what? He would say that it was momentary inattention, or that a dog the camera didn\u2019t catch ran in front of the vehicle. He would be charged maybe with careless driving \u2013 at most dangerous driving causing bodily harm \u2013 and leaving the scene of an accident, pleaded down to one or the other, be fined a few dollars, and receive a few months\u2019 probation, if that. Meanwhile Celeste gets a life sentence. I wanted justice for Celeste.
\u2014 Does it help Celeste if you end up in prison? asked Detective Mellon.
\u2014 Obviously I didn\u2019t expect to be found out.
\u2014 Famous last words.
\u2014 So it seems.
\u2014 You do realize that you have just made a confession, don\u2019t you, Mr. Leung? To murder? Before you say another word Detective Cartier is going to give you a Charter<\/i> warning.
\u2014 It\u2019s a little late for that, don\u2019t you think? Besides I don\u2019t need to hear it.
\u2014 Detective Cartier is going to say the words anyway. Detective, please proceed.
\u2014 Mr. Leung, you need not say anything unless you wish to. You have nothing to hope from any promise or favour and nothing to fear from any threat, whether or not you say anything. Anything you do say may be used as evidence against you. Do you understand?
\u2014 Perfectly.
\u2014 You have the right to retain and instruct counsel without delay, Detective Cartier continued. You also have the right to free and immediate advice from a legal aid lawyer or duty counsel if you cannot afford a lawyer. Do you wish to contact a lawyer?
\u2014 I can afford a lawyer but I don\u2019t want one now. Maybe later. Are you aware of what he did to Celeste?
\u2014 I\u2019ve seen the hospital report? said Detective Mellon.
\u2014 That tells only part of the story, the medical part not the personal. Thirteen years old. She played hockey, the skating kind. She had a crush on a boy in her grade 8 class. She played the viola. Played it beautifully. Her rendering of Hindemith\u2019s Sonatas would bring tears to your eyes. Look, you can see for yourself.
\u2014 No, I don\u2019t think so.
\u2014 Why not? Do you have some place more important to be? Here, look at this, Mr. Leung said, holding out the screen of his cell phone to the detectives, his face beaming with pride, his eyes brimming with tears. He continued.
\u2014 That\u2019s Celeste playing Hindemith\u2019s opus 11, number 5. The mastery, the passion.
\u2014 Wow, that is really beautiful, said Detective Cartier; and I have to admit that that\u2019s not my usual kind of music.
\u2014 She is indeed talented, said Detective Mellon. More than talented: she had a special gift.
\u2014 She was a gift. No thirteen-year-old should be able to play those pieces. But the miracle of Celeste could. She had hopes. She had dreams. Now, she has a wheelchair. You know, she was born when I was approaching my best-by date. I\u2019m 58. She is going to need care the rest of her life and I won\u2019t be around to give it to her. Or maybe I will, who knows? Her life expectancy has dropped considerably.
\u2014 Her mother?
\u2014 Dead.
\u2014 I\u2019m sorry. Has Celeste improved since leaving the hospital?
\u2014 See for yourself.
\u2014 We really shouldn\u2019t intrude.
\u2014 Come on. Don\u2019t be shy. She\u2019s in her bed, the room to your right.
After knocking and being granted permission, Mr. Leung led the two detectives into Celeste\u2019s room.
\u2014 Hello, Celeste. I\u2019m Detective Mellon. This is Detective-Constable Jacob Cartier. We call him \u201cJ.C.\u201d for short but, initials aside, I doubt anyone will ever confuse him with the Saviour\u2026
Detective Mellon\u2019s eyes swept the crowded bedroom as discreetly as possible. Whereas he would normally expect to find posters of Taylor Swift and Justin Bieber adorning the walls of a thirteen-year-old girl\u2019s room, instead the wall to his left was covered with images of Bart\u00f3k, Vaughan Williams, and, he was pleasantly surprised to see, Kathryn Patricia Cobbler, a composer from Ottawa, his hometown. Pinned to the opposite wall was a large reproduction of Lange\u2019s portrait of Mozart. All these composers, Detective Mellon recalled, had written for the viola. Over the headboard, occupying pride of place, were two rows of framed certificates from the Royal Conservatory of Music awarded to Celeste Xiaoou Leung. Near the door were a Hoyer lift and a wheelchair. On a beside table lay an open book, spine upwards, whose title, Life in the Sickroom<\/i>, he found even more unsettling than the lift and the chair. A life, a whole life\u2026 in a room. Worse: a life locked inside the prison of one\u2019s own body. The detective spoke again.
\u2014 We wanted to tell you, Celeste, that we found out who did this to you. He won\u2019t be able to inflict harm on anyone else ever again.
\u2014 Do you mean to say he is dead?
\u2014 Yes, dead.
\u2014 Thank you for that information officer. What happened to him?
\u2014 He was a homicide victim. Someone killed him.
Detective Mellon noticed that Celeste\u2019s eyes glanced quickly over to her father before returning to him.
\u2014 I don\u2019t know how I feel about that, his death. I can\u2019t forgive him for what he did to me but I don\u2019t seem to be able to hate him either. If I knew him maybe I could. But I didn\u2019t know him so I don\u2019t know what made him do it. Maybe he couldn\u2019t control himself. Maybe there was something inside him that made him do it. I\u2019ve read enough books to know that good people can do evil things for reasons they can\u2019t begin to understand.
\u2014 You can hate what he did, though, can\u2019t you?
\u2014 I like you. You\u2019re funny. When you try to be, you fail. When you don\u2019t try, you succeed. Yes, I can hate what he did. With a passion. At least the half of me I have left can hate what he did. Was he otherwise a good person, Officer \u2013 I mean, other than hurting me?
\u2014 We are still investigating, but by all accounts so far, he was not.
\u2014 And now I don\u2019t know what I will do with that information. Thank you, Officers. I appreciate your visit. If you don\u2019t mind, I\u2019m feeling pretty tired\u2026
Detective Mellon regretted leaving Celeste. He admired the intelligence and the face that was so animated when speaking \u2013 perhaps in compensation, the rest of her being so inanimate, so unnaturally still. He also admired her talent and was beyond angry that it had been taken away from her. Mostly away from her but, he thought, away from all of us as well.<\/p>\n
***<\/p>\n
The two detectives sat on a park bench across from the house they had just visited. Two boys were now playing one-on-one on the court. Detective Cartier watched them with a touch of nostalgia for his past glory days.
\u2014 Now about that beer? said Detective Mellon.
\u2014 A beer! Kyle, are you crazy? I admit that Mr. Leung had good reason for what he did, but what he did was murder, and there is no justification for that, regardless of the reason.
\u2014 Well, there is such a thing as non-culpable homicide.
\u2014 I should think that an ice-pick in the skull rules that defence out.
\u2014 Now, now, Jake. There is non-culpable homicide and then there is non-culpable homicide. There is the Criminal Code<\/i> and there is the human code, and the two don\u2019t always mesh.
\u2014 We cannot sink into moral relativism, especially not you, Mr. Law and Order. You yourself reminded me, not so very long ago, that we have a job to do, an oath to honour. It is up to Pebbles and his ilk to argue whether Mr. Leung is guilty under the Code<\/i>, and a judge or a jury to decide, not us. We\u2019re just lowly cops, no more than that, and we shouldn\u2019t try to be.
\u2014 I am not about to wax philosophical or channel Spinoza or David Hume. All I know are two things, Jake: that there is a little girl upstairs in that house who may never again move of her own accord and that her father took an evil out of this world. Maybe Celeste was right, maybe Bader was not an evil man but merely an ordinary man who did evil things for reasons unknown to him, who couldn\u2019t help himself. Frankly, that is a distinction I cannot make, between the being and the doing; I don\u2019t have Celeste\u2019s generosity of spirit for that. To my mind justice has been served.
\u2014 And if anyone finds out that you had a murderer in your hands but chose to let him go free, what then? You want to violate the Police Services Act<\/i>. One of your duties under that Act is \u201capprehending criminals\u201d.
\u2014 I don\u2019t want<\/i> to violate the Act. That\u2019s merely an unfortunate by-product. And by the way, it\u2019s now called the Community Safety and Policing Act.<\/i>
\u2014 So it is; forgetful me. And then there is the Criminal Code<\/i> \u2013 assuming it is still called the Criminal Code<\/i>. You could be considered an accessory after the fact. Is it worth it, Kyle? For what? To protect a murderer?
\u2014 No, not for him; for Celeste. She\u2019s worth it. You heard her music; it flowed from her, a gift from heaven. Celeste is one of god\u2019s truly blessed creatures, or was. Arresting her sole caregiver, leaving her alone and helpless in the world, would be piling-on. It would be cruel and unjust, and I prefer not to bring more cruelty into the world. Lord knows, we see enough of it every day.
\u2014 It helps that she said you were funny.
\u2014 Doesn\u2019t hurt. Besides, who\u2019s to know?
\u2014 What if the father\u2019s conscience gets the better of him and he turns himself in? He would blab about our visit?
\u2014 The old agenbite of inwit. Did he strike you as a man tormented by his deed?
\u2014 \u201cAgenbite of inwit\u201d? Spinoza? I swear, you say these things just to lord it over those of us who only went to community college.
\u2014 So, J.C., what do you say?
\u2014 The beer\u2019s on you.<\/p>\n
END<\/p>\n
With a special thanks to Provincial Constable Matthew Carvalho, OPP, Kenora Detachment, and David J. Elliott, Barrister, both of whom generously took the time to ensure that the policing\/legal matters in the story adhered as closely to reality as the story would permit.<\/i><\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n
[Image Credit : Photo by Pawel Czerwinski<\/a> on Unsplash<\/a>]<\/p>\n The author is a semi-retired litigation lawyer practising in Toronto, Ontario. He has previously published fiction in Event<\/i>, the Mystery Tribune<\/i> (online), and the Mocking Owl Roost<\/i> (online), as well as reviews and articles in the Armchair Detective<\/i>, the Mystery Review<\/i>, amongst others.<\/p>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<\/p><\/div>\n![\"Facebook\"](\"https:\/\/www.close2thebone.co.uk\/wp\/wp-content\/plugins\/social-media-feather\/synved-social\/image\/social\/regular\/48x48\/facebook.png\"\/ "\\"Share")
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