A Delicate Matter Read online

  “Married but no children.”

  “You could be murdered as soon as tonight or tomorrow.”

  “Tonight! Jesus. Then I … I need protection!”

  “But not your wife? I suppose you have her insured for a bundle,” Jack said.

  “I meant her, too, of course.”

  “Let me think about this,” Jack said sarcastically. “You want us to use up our budget to protect you, a criminal, from the ramifications of your own criminal activity. Yeah, right.”

  “You can’t tell me this and not do something!” Cummings cried.

  “If we did protect you it’d really look like you’re working with the police. Not to mention these guys have long memories. If you did manage to stay alive until you were incarcerated they’d think you received a reduced sentence in exchange for your co-operation — and reduce your life accordingly.”

  “Then … then what should I do? I —”

  “If it were me, I’d disappear immediately. Considering what you’ve stashed away for Damien all these years, I’m guessing you have a similar offshore account for yourself. This might be a good time to cash it in. I heard that property on Baffin Island is really cheap.”

  “Is this a ruse to find out if I have such an investment?” Cummings asked suspiciously.

  “That’s a really good question,” Jack replied. “Maybe you should wait around for a few days to find out. Goodbye.”

  Laura’s desk faced Jack’s and she’d heard Jack’s side of the conversation. When he hung up she asked, “So? Is he heading for Baffin Island?”

  “I don’t know. Remind me to read the obits next week to find out.”

  “I think you’d hear before that,” Laura replied. “Most likely in an obscene phone call from Connie.”

  “Connie … yes, that reminds me. Call Aldergove and find out what grow-op they busted. Then have them send a copy of every name and phone number they may have seized. After that, have I-HIT do the same with the file on Dwayne. See if there’s a match. While you’re doing that I’ll prepare a report for Ottawa. I also need to do an informant-debriefing report. Isaac will want to know the details.”

  “Bet you never thought you’d be saying that,” Laura said.

  “Saying what?”

  “Referring to Damien as your informant.”

  Jack felt taken back. “That asshole isn’t … well, I guess technically he is.” He smiled grimly. “That, however, will be short-lived. If the boat is on time, by the end of next week he’ll be finished.”

  “He’s still an informant, though,” Laura persisted. “Kind of like Dwayne technically was.”

  “Dwayne died being a hero. There’s no similarity.”

  “Damien is risking his life to save Vicki, which isn’t all that bad, either. He isn’t doing it to save his own skin.”

  “Yes, he did it to save Vicki.” Jack’s smile widened. “That’s what I think is hilarious. If only he knew.”

  Late that afternoon Jack had his report approved by the brass and forwarded to headquarters. Within minutes he received a call from the Interpol office in Ottawa. When it was finished he gave Laura a thumbs-up. “It pays to have Isaac involved. That was Ottawa. They’ve contacted Interpol in France and promised to contact me immediately with any updates.”

  “Wish we could be there for the takedown,” Laura said. “It’s going to be a long week sitting around here waiting for it to happen.”

  “I know how you feel, but I’m sure the police in Europe will be tripping over each other as it is. I also told Damien to contact me day or night with any updates. I want to be able to meet him face to face if need be.”

  “I understand that — but it’d be fun,” Laura replied.

  “It would be more fun to see the look on Pure E’s face,” Jack said. “This bust will be taking place within a week of when he takes over.”

  “He’s going to be one unhappy camper.”

  Jack nodded. “How’d you make out with the grow-ops?”

  “A member in Aldergrove scanned and sent me everything they had. The grow-op was in an apartment building and uniform busted it after the manager went in when water broke through the ceiling into the apartment below. All the names they sent me were Vietnamese. Lots of cellphone numbers as well, but the majority weren’t registered and are no longer in service. The few numbers that I could track down are also Vietnamese.”

  “No matches from Connie’s file?”

  “Nope. There weren’t any Vietnamese names in her file.”

  “And no English names in the Aldergrove file,” Jack said.

  “No … well, there were a couple of names on a slip of paper, but it was the receipt from the store where they bought their hydroponics.”

  “What was the name of the store?”

  “I’ve got it here,” Laura said, scrolling down on her laptop. “Here it is … Aaron and Chuck’s Hydroponics. Looks like it was rubber-stamped on the receipt. The payment was done in cash.”

  “Aaron and Chuck’s Hydroponics,” Jack repeated slowly. He took out his notebook and flipped back through the pages.

  “Does that mean something to you?”

  “When Larry called me a couple of days ago, he told me he was selling his boat and hydro equipment. I asked him where he bought the equipment — bingo!” Jack tapped his notebook and looked up. “Same place. Aaron and Chuck’s Hydroponics.”

  Laura’s face showed her excitement. “We’ve got the connection!”

  “There are only a couple of hydroponic stores around, so it could be coincidental — but I was never one to believe in coincidences.”

  “Coming from you, that’s funny.”

  “Aaron and Chuck’s could be selling them the equipment, then somebody could be following them when they leave,” Jack said.

  “Or perhaps providing hands-on, expert advice,” Laura suggested.

  “Not with the bikers. Satans Wrath would’ve clued in to that one. My guess is the customers were followed — but in Larry’s case that person or persons needed a boat.”

  “Larry probably made several trips to the store. Maybe they arranged to get one or simply rented it at the marina like we did.”

  “We’ll find out,” Jack said.

  “Should we tell Connie?”

  “Not yet.”

  Laura made a face.

  “What’s wrong? Connie gave us permission to stick our noses into this after King was killed.”

  “Only because she thinks King was responsible. Plus she knows the grow-ops are biker-controlled.”

  “I promised to sit back and let Connie solve it,” Jack said. “I don’t think she has. If Dwayne’s killer is still out there I want him found. We’ll talk to Rose, but I don’t want to tell Connie about it until we get something to show we’re on the right track.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “One thing for certain. We won’t be sitting on our asses waiting for a boat to arrive in France.”

  Chapter Forty

  Rose agreed to Jack and Laura making an initial probe into Aaron and Chuck’s Hydroponics provided that any positive results were immediately passed on to I-HIT.

  Aaron and Chuck’s Hydroponics was located in a small strip mall in North Vancouver and their website said it closed at 6:00 p.m., which was what time Jack and Laura were watching from the parking lot. Two men exited the store and one locked the door. He was tall and thin with a pockmarked face and short blond hair. His companion was stocky and ruddy-faced with a shaved head and a pot belly.

  Moments later the taller man unlocked the door on a bright yellow Corvette Stingray and they both got in.

  “Have my doubts they’d be following anyone in a car like that without being noticed,” Jack remarked, pulling out to follow as the Corvette drove out of the lot.

  “Maybe they hav
e friends,” Laura suggested. “Could delay the customer in the store and give whoever it is time to get here.”

  “Maybe. Run the plate and check for CR and warrants.”

  After deciding that there was too much static on the police radio, Laura phoned in the licence plate and asked for a criminal-record check and any outstanding warrants while Jack drove. Minutes later she wrote the details into her notebook, then hung up. “The registered owner is an Aaron Goldsmith. Thirty-six years old with four convictions for drug trafficking. His address is on Marine Drive.”

  “We’re on Marine now,” Jack said. “What’s the number?”

  “Suite one oh nine at —”

  “Right here,” Jack said, as the Corvette pulled into a driveway leading to the rear of the apartment building.

  Jack parked out front and they watched to see if any lights came on in the suites. When none did, they drove behind the building and saw where the Corvette was parked. “Take a look,” Jack said, indicating a red Corvette parked beside the yellow one. “Doesn’t look like it’s been driven for a while.”

  Laura wrote down the licence plate as Jack found an empty stall and parked. In moments she had the details. “Registered to Charles Atwood of the same address. He’s thirty-seven years old and has one conviction for drug trafficking and three for driving under the influence. His licence is currently under suspension — but get this,” she added, shaking her head.

  “What?” Jack asked.

  “He has one conviction for causing a disturbance and three for assault. Going by that fat little tummy and how short he is, the guy must be a masochist.”

  “Probably a classic case of small-man syndrome,” Jack replied. “Likely manifested with his drinking. They figure they’ve nothing to lose by taking a swing at a bigger guy. If they get smacked back, they look like victims. If they get in a lucky hit and win, they think they’re heroes.”

  “Wow … how pathetic can you get,” Laura said.

  Jack gestured to the rear of the apartment complex. “There are a few lights on in the ground-floor units. I’m going for a walk. If the owner of this parking spot shows up, drive around and pick me up out front.” He then got out, pulling his jacket collar up to his ears and keeping his head down, as he walked.

  A moment later he returned to the car. “They’re in the unit down at the end,” he said. “I caught a glimpse of them through the living-room window. There are empty beer bottles and glasses all over the coffee table and a couple of cheap girly posters on the walls.”

  “Aren’t all girly posters cheap?” Laura chided.

  “By the looks of these guys, it’s probably the best they can get.” Jack took out his phone and punched in a number.

  “Who you calling?” Laura asked.

  “Tina Chan in Drug Section. According to the store’s website, its open tomorrow, then closed Sunday and Monday. I’m going to see if she’s available — add a little Asian heat to spice things up.”

  “Spice things up?” Laura repeated, sounding far from enthusiastic. She’d doubtless guessed what was coming next.

  “I want her to act as a date for one of these guys,” Jack said as he held his phone up to his ear.

  “Right — for one of these guys.”

  Jack stared at her.

  “Oh, man,” Laura muttered.

  “No answer,” Jack said. He left a message, then looked at Laura. “I know how you must feel, but these guys may be the ones who murdered Dwayne.”

  “I know. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not complaining. It’s sort of like having a root canal. I may not like it, but I know it’s necessary.”

  Jack smiled. “Will it make you feel better if you get first choice?”

  “What? At shooting them?” Laura joked.

  Jack’s smile disappeared. “Let’s find out if they’re guilty first.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  Jack and Laura worked Saturday in an attempt to link either Aaron or Chuck with renting or owning a boat. Their effort was futile. Tina Chan did return Jack’s call. She was available to work undercover on Tuesday when the store reopened. In light of that Jack decided that they’d take Sunday off.

  Jack was playing his usual weekly game of chess with his ten-year-old son on Sunday afternoon when he felt his phone vibrate. He glanced at the call display and saw that it was Cockerill. “Have to take this,” he apologized. “It’s an informant.”

  “That’s okay, Dad,” Mike shrugged. “I think you’ve only got four moves left, anyway.”

  Jack ignored his son’s prediction and answered the phone.

  “So, you’re officially the party-pooper,” were the first words out of Cockerill’s mouth.

  “Damien wasn’t smiling at his retirement party last night?”

  “Fuck, you really did a number on him. The only time he smiled was when Buck received his full patch.”

  “Did you get drunk?”

  “Nah, I told ya’ I quit drinking.”

  “Good. Anything else I should know?”

  “There’s some talk going around that you didn’t have grounds to go on the property and take that video of Buck.”

  Perfect. Damien has already planted the seed.

  “Any truth to that?” asked Cockerill.

  “Hope not,” Jack replied. “I’m still waiting to hear from the prosecutor. Guess someone being killed accidentally isn’t high up on their priority list. Anything else going on?”

  “Not really. Pure E said he wants to have all the B.C. chapters get together next Wednesday or Thursday for a talk, but that’s about it. Rumour is that some of the guys from Alberta might show up, too.”

  To celebrate when the boat arrives in France, which Cockerill doesn’t know about yet. “He could have done that last night,” Jack said, not wanting Cockerill to ever know he already knew the real reason.

  “Guess he didn’t want to steal the show away from Damien. Mind you, you already did that.”

  Pure E steal the show? More likely he plans to announce that their ship has come in — literally — and grandstand for the credit.

  “I expect things are going to be different,” Cockerill added.

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Pure E is concerned about our image. He feels we’ve been too laid back and that we don’t have the respect we once had. Says that’s why punks are moving into our space an’ why some people are no longer afraid to rat us out.”

  “Speaking of that, is there anything new on Neal?”

  “Haven’t heard anything. As far as I know, he’s still being taken out the day Pure E meets with us. If I hear somethin’ different, I’ll call ya.”

  “You do that.”

  Jack hung up and turned his attention back to the chessboard. He made four more moves and was checkmated.

  “Another game, Dad?” Mike asked.

  “No, losing three in a row is enough. Time to restore my shattered ego on the pool table with your brother.”

  “Everything okay at work?” Mike asked, looking concerned.

  Jack smiled to himself. He was so evenly paired with his sons at chess and pool that it was rare that any of them lost three in a row. When his sons did, he knew something else was on their minds and they’d talk about it. Now the shoe was on the other foot. “Sorry if my mind wasn’t on the game. I’ve been thinking about a couple of bad guys I want to catch.” He winked. “At least, that’s my excuse.”

  “That’s okay. Maybe next Sunday.”

  Sunday night after the boys had gone to bed, Natasha snuggled up with Jack on the sofa, then made eye contact. “The boys are worried about you.”

  “About me? Why?”

  “They came to me after they got ready for bed. It was kind of cute. They both had such serious looks on their faces. Steve said he beat you three out of three in pool and Mike said he did the
same in chess. They’re worried that you’re doing something dangerous.”

  “They’re great kids. Pretty perceptive.”

  “Are you doing something dangerous? You told me you nailed Damien hard. Are you worried that he might —”

  “No. Not at all. Damien has other things on his mind besides me. I’m distracted because I may have a possible lead on who killed Dwayne.”

  “The mentally challenged man who —”

  “Yes, him. I’ve got a couple of suspects and will be doing a UC — but it’s nothing dangerous.”

  “Right, undercover’s not dangerous,” Natasha said skeptically. “You’re saying that even though they may have murdered a man less than two weeks ago.”

  “They’ll find dealing with me a little different.” Jack looked at her. “I’m not like Dwayne. That poor guy couldn’t even tie his own shoelaces.”

  “You do realize, don’t you, that you wear slip-on shoes yourself?”

  Jack was about to protest, but Natasha kissed him, muffling his response.

  Jack and Laura spent Monday morning in the office. At noon Jack received a call from Ottawa confirming that European investigators had converged on the Hôtel de Toiras in Saint-Martin-de-Ré, France. It was confirmed that a Satans Wrath member from Vancouver and one from Holland had each reserved a room. Electronic listening devices were planted in both rooms shortly before the bikers checked in.

  Jack felt triumphant as he relayed the news to Laura and Rose. “Right now the two of them are drinking in a nearby bar. France is nine hours ahead of us, so it’s evening there.”

  “It confirms what you were told,” Rose said. “What now?”

  “Nothing for us to do but wait,” Jack replied. “While we’re doing that, Laura and I are going to see what Aaron and Chuck are up to.”

  “If there’s any indication they’re involved in Dwayne’s murder, I want I-HIT informed immediately,” Rose insisted.

  “Of course.” Jack’s phone vibrated and he glanced at the call display. “Dave Cash from I-POC. I better take it. He was in charge of the search at Damien’s on Friday.”