A Delicate Matter Page 19

  “An integral part of the big picture. Push start.”

  Seconds later Connie looked sharply at Jack. “It’s King and Weasel!”

  “Yes, I thought it was them,” he replied.

  “Where’d you get this?” Connie demanded.

  “I took it myself from outside their window,” he replied nonchalantly.

  “You were outside their window? No! Were you there when —”

  “Yes, but I was careful to stay on the sidelines.” He pointed to the laptop, “Look, here comes that surprise party your witness spoke about.”

  Connie watched slack-jawed as the bikers rushed into King’s living room and beat him and Weasel with baseball bats. “Son of a bitch.” She turned to Jack. “You got this on film? Why didn’t —”

  “Shh, keep watching and listening.”

  When the video was over, Connie turned to Jack, her face furious. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” Wilson and I were up all night investigating. I even waited until morning to call you because I thought you were sleeping. How did you even know?”

  “Well —”

  “You should’ve told me! We would’ve scooped these guys up immediately. There’d have been blood on their clothes. Maybe we would’ve even got the weapons. Who are they? At least two were Satans Wrath. You must know them.”

  “The rest are Gypsy Devils,” Jack said. “I can identify all of them, but the video and what you’ve seen and heard here can’t be used.”

  “Bullshit it can’t be —”

  “Furthermore you’re not to tell anyone about it. You’re now officially off the investigation.”

  “What the hell? You can’t order me off a case!”

  “Orders from Isaac. By the time you get to your office, he’ll have informed Inspector Dyck. Isaac wanted me to explain it to you first so you’d understand. Pretty decent of him, really.”

  “Understand? Understand what?”

  “To use Isaac’s words, the situation involves an informant who’s an integral part of a bigger picture. In a nutshell, this informant is supplying information to pursue more serious charges on another matter.”

  “More serious than murder?”

  “What you saw on the video clearly exposes that it wasn’t a premeditated murder,” Jack said.

  “Why’d you wait until now to tell me?” she demanded. “If I’m being jerked off this case, I could’ve saved a lot of time if I’d known.”

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t bring it to your attention earlier, but it was after this incident that the informant supplied me with information. Information that’s more worthy of what the people in this video would receive if convicted.”

  “So you turned one of these sons of bitches into an informant in exchange for immunity,” Connie said, gesturing to the laptop.

  Jack nodded, more out of a natural instinct to protect his informant than anything else.

  “Well, if that don’t beat all,” Connie muttered.

  “If you’re upset that a murder case has been taken away from you, I suspect that one of the bikers in the video will be murdered soon — and that action will be premeditated.” Jack gave a friendly smile. “If you like, I can give you his name.”

  “What?” Connie almost yelled. “Are you serious?”

  Jack nodded.

  “Damn you, Jack! What is it with you? Why do you keep doing this to me?”

  “Because you work Homicide and because I trust you enough to tell you.”

  “And now you’re sayin’ that someone else might get whacked?”

  “Probably.”

  “Who?”

  “Neal Barlow.” Jack gestured to the laptop. “He was the big fat greasy-looking guy with the braided goatee. He’s a full-patch member of the Gypsy Devils.”

  “Him? Why?”

  “They might soon think he’s an informant,” Jack replied.

  “You’re setting him up?” Connie accused.

  “I’m just letting the chips fall where they may, so to speak.”

  “Damn you,” Connie said again.

  “Mind you, I’m not sure what jurisdiction they’ll be in when it happens. Perhaps it won’t be your case.”

  “They? I thought you said one guy?”

  “Sorry — Freudian slip. I spoke with Isaac this morning and discussed the possibility of two others being murdered. Bob and Roxie Barlow. Bob is Neal’s brother, but in my opinion the heat will fall on Neal.”

  “So Isaac knows and approves this?” Connie sounded astonished.

  “It’s a delicate matter — but yes.”

  “I don’t believe this,” Connie said. “Does Neal know he’s being targeted?”

  “Not yet. Bob and Roxie dropped off two-hundred-and-fifty keys of weed yesterday in Dallas, Texas. I had the DEA seize the weed but let the semi go.”

  “And you think they’ll blame Neal and not his brother and sister-in-law?”

  “I’m confident that the blame will go to Neal due to other things that have taken place. If it was Bob and Roxie, they wouldn’t be coming back here. Once Neal hears the details about the bust, he might clue in, but it’s hard to say. He’s not known as cerebral.”

  “And of course you wouldn’t even think of warning him.”

  “Actually I discussed that with Isaac,” Jack said.

  “Really?”

  “Of course.” Jack shook his head. “Sometimes it’s hard to figure out how you think, Connie. Sure, the Gypsy Devils dress a little different, but really, when you see them as I have, sitting in a pub with their girlfriends, they’re actually just a fun-loving bunch of guys who enjoy a beer and a good laugh once in a while. Really nice people if you get to know them.”

  “Up yours.” Connie became sullen. She looked out the window, then turned back to Jack. “So Isaac told you to warn him?”

  “No. We discussed it, but there’s more involved, including public safety.” Jack then explained how the murder of Neal might prevent other deaths.

  “Jesus,” she said under her breath, then, “Maybe I should set up surveillance on him myself. If —”

  “As much fun as I know it is to video a murder, I don’t —”

  “Fun?” Connie interrupted him.

  “Come on, where’s your sense of humour?”

  “Fun?” Connie repeated. Her tone expressed exasperation.

  “Okay, let me say that the idea of protective surveillance was also discussed with Isaac. I’m sure you’d be spotted — which would confirm the bikers’ belief that he’s the informant. We do have a wiretap order on him and others in the club. The situation could change, depending on what we hear — although I’m not optimistic that we’ll hear anything.”

  “So you’re telling me to sit back and watch some guy get murdered — without lifting a finger,” Connie said.

  “Believe me, his death won’t be any loss to society.”

  “Yeah … well, it’s not like I need the extra workload.”

  “Considering that you now have a glimpse of the big picture, it’d be better if you were left out of that investigation, as well,” Jack said. There’d be too much tippytoeing you’d have to do in court. That’s if he is murdered, of course.”

  “If?” Connie opened the door and got out, then turned to look at Jack. “Don’t give me that crap. With you involved, there’ll be no if about it.”

  “It’s not guaran —”

  Connie slammed the door shut.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Forty minutes later Jack was having lunch at home when his phone rang. He mumbled an apology to Natasha and answered.

  “Corporal Taggart, this is Mr. Basil Westmount. I’m representing —”

  “Yeah, I know. Whaddaya want?” Jack intentionally slurred his voice as if he was inebriated. “I’m off today.”


  “I’m calling to advise you that I’m representing Mr. Buck Zabat,” the lawyer replied.

  “Yeah? What’re you representing him for? Has he been charged with something?” Jack asked facetiously.

  “I don’t have time to play games, Corporal. I met with his father, who you rousted out of bed in the middle of the night.”

  “Yeah, I was nice enough to let ’em know.”

  “Nice enough? You intentionally got this poor couple out of bed in the dead of night and maliciously led them to believe that one of their children had been killed. I can hardly think of a more despicable thing to do. Then you accuse Mr. Zabat of being involved in illegal activity — a man who doesn’t even have a criminal record. You slander him in front of his wife and try to coerce him into providing you with information. All because you are under the impression that you have evidence against my client. Evidence that, I suspect, will not stand up to the test of admissibility in court once —”

  “Under the impression that I have evidence?” Jack snorted. “That’s a good one. What I have will take more than having one of Buck’s sluts sitting in the front row with a pillow under her blouse to fake a pregnancy in order to con a jury into letting him off.”

  “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” Basil said crisply.

  “Guess your memory isn’t as good as mine.”

  “I’m calling to inform you that I will personally bring my client in to face any charges,” Basil sneered, clearly irritated. “You said you would wait two days before arresting him. Tomorrow will be that deadline. I would like to arrange a time to bring him in. Here I am doing you a favour, yet by your tone you —”

  “A favour? You really are a funny guy. What you want is to impress a judge that your client isn’t a flight risk and to ensure that he says nothing to the police.”

  The tone of Basil’s voice went beyond irritation to anger. “As his lawyer, I’m instructing you not to talk to him without my presence! Have you got that?”

  “Yeah, well, I haven’t had time to show the prosecution what I have,” Jack replied. “Did I tell ya I’m off today?”

  “Yes, you told me.”

  “I’m so hungover from celebrating that I feel like pukin’. Anyway, tomorrow’s too soon. By the time I do go into work, tear my bosses away from their coffees and newspapers, and show ’em the video, then run it over to the prosecutors … well, you know what lawyers are like. They’ll wanna know every blinkin’ detail about everything. If it all goes well … I dunno. Christ, what day is it now? Monday? It’ll probably be next week.”

  “Then I wish to make it clear to you that when you do obtain a warrant, you’re to call me and I’ll arrange a time and place for Mr. Zabat to come in.”

  “How, when, or where I arrest little Bucky Zabat will be my decision,” Jack said with mock indignation.

  Natasha eyed him curiously as he hung up. “What was all that about? Or can you say? I’m beginning to wonder if I married an idiot.”

  Jack gave her a lopsided grin. “No. I was simply prepping him to protect an informant. I want him to hate and disrespect me. Later, when a charge doesn’t proceed, he’ll be inclined to believe the evidence was tainted due to my incompetence.”

  “Think your charade worked?”

  “It might.”

  Natasha nodded.

  Unfortunately Damien is a lot smarter. Tricking him won’t be so easy.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Damien opened a sliding glass door that allowed access to his swimming pool and the yard beyond. He gestured for Purvis Evans to go ahead of him. Technically Pure E wouldn’t officially become the national president of Satans Wrath until next weekend, but unofficially, he was already at the helm.

  Damien eyed him after they passed the pool and entered a stone pathway. For a man considered pure evil, he’s not physically large — except for his ego.

  Pure E was half-a-head shorter than Damien and at forty-two, seventeen years younger. At first glance one might guess he was a businessman who worked a Monday-to-Friday job. His curly black hair was relatively short and he was clean-shaven. Women found him handsome and if they stirred his desire, he could be charming, but generally he preferred the company of women who were paid with either cash or drugs.

  Purvis Evans was a sociopath in the true sense of the word. He was convicted of his first violent sexual assault when he was just fourteen. His subsequent stay in a juvenile detention facility helped to educate him in the ways to meet his criminal aspirations.

  Pure E cast a sideways glance at Damien. “Well, Gramps, I gotta say, things are really falling apart with the club.”

  Damien thrust out the heel of his hand, hitting Pure E’s shoulder, sending him stumbling backward. When Pure E regained his balance he locked eyes with Damien, who looked at him with disdain and growled, “You ever call me ‘Gramps’ again I’ll put my fist down your throat and next time you see your teeth they’ll be in the toilet.”

  Pure E’s rage was briefly reflected on his face. Then he gave a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t be so touchy. I was only teasing.”

  “No, you weren’t,” Damien replied evenly. “You were being cocky and disrespectful.”

  Another flash of anger on Pure E’s face. “If that’s how it’s to be between us, fine by me.”

  “Your position demands respect. Start thinking and acting like you’re worthy of it.”

  Pure E’s lips curled and he opened his mouth to speak.

  “Don’t say something you’ll regret,” Damien warned.

  Pure E stopped. He took a breath and slowly exhaled. “You never backed me for taking over. Ever wonder why the majority voted for me?”

  “Like me, they figured it was time to put a Frenchie in the position — but Quebec is in turmoil over what’ll happen with the corruption inquiry. Your mother, however, was French — you’re bilingual and spent a lot of time liaising with our boys in Quebec. Can’t say as I was surprised you won.”

  “Maybe that’s part of it, but too many outside players are moving in on our turf. Especially here on the West Coast. I’ve made it clear I’ll change that.”

  “The only ones infringing are bit players,” Damien said. “If any of them start making real money, they’ll be told to work for us. In the meantime, chasing around wannabe gangsters isn’t worth our while. It attracts heat and has the potential to put our members at risk. Right now the cops have reassigned most of their people in the Anti-Gang Unit to combat terrorism. It’s wise not to alert the politicians that they need more manpower.”

  “You have the gall to talk to me about risk?” Pure E looked at Damien with contempt. “Under your watch, your own son is about to go down. This morning we find out we lost two-hundred-and-fifty keys in Dallas yesterday.”

  “As far as Buck goes, I took immediate action,” Damien replied. “Yesterday the Gypsy Devils were given two weeks to clean up the problem. The incident in Dallas highlights that need.”

  “Two weeks makes it a week after you retire,” Pure E noted. “Talk about passing the buck.”

  “Ferreting out the rat could easily take that long. As far as passing the buck goes, I view the Gypsy Devils as a small problem — one I thought you’d be capable of dealing with.”

  “Oh, I’m more than capable,” Pure E said.

  “It’d also be nice to prevent negative feedback.”

  “Negative feedback?”

  “At the moment the Gypsy Devils don’t believe that one of their guys ratted. They’re not aware of the bust in Dallas yet. They need to be told about it immediately. It’ll be a little added incentive for them to take a hard look at themselves and prevent some idiot in their club from doing something stupid toward us.”

  “You’re calling a loss of two-hundred-and-fifty keys ‘a little added incentive’? I’d call it a lot more than that.”
>
  “Come on,” Damien said in annoyance. “That amount of weed is nothing. The cost of doing business. It happens and should be expected to happen once in a while. Our club will move on and find another means of moving it.”

  “It isn’t nothing!” Pure E declared adamantly. “Someone talked … about your son and the weed.”

  “Yes, which is why I gave the GDs the order to deal with the matter.”

  “Yeah, and you talk to me about a lack of respect? Open your eyes. We’ve got a major problem with our image when a couple of truck drivers aren’t afraid to rat us out.”

  “It wasn’t the couple in the truck who talked,” Damien said. “They were on the road when Buck was filmed and wouldn’t have known about it. I also know the cop who took the video. His name’s Jack Taggart. Believe me, he’s not stupid enough to burn someone like that. I’m positive those two aren’t his informants.”

  “Then who ratted? Someone inside the Gypsy Devils? The same club you gave the go-ahead to sponsor?”

  “The Gypsy Devils have their use like any other group who works for us. It’s not like we’d ever allow more than one or two of them to prospect for us. As far as who talked … well, the truck driver’s brother is a Gypsy Devil. His name’s Neal Barlow and he lost seventy-five keys of weed last week. He said he was robbed.”

  “So you already know who the rat is. The cops used his brother as leverage to get him to rat.”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” Damien replied.

  “What do you mean, maybe not? Neal Barlow is the rat. Why dick around?”

  “As I said, Taggart is smart. Maybe he set this up to make us think that. My advice to you is that if he’s involved, never be too sure about anything. As a result of what happened in Dallas, I’d recommend we plant a few bugs and do our own surveillance. Let’s make sure the Gypsy Devils get the right person.”

  “You told me that only the GDs and a couple of our guys knew about the visit the cops videoed. Same for the weed in Dallas, I presume. How much more obvious could it get?” Pure E shook his head. “The time for pussyfooting around is over.”