A Delicate Matter Read online

  Laura felt her phone vibrate and looked at the display. “Speak of the devil. Everyone be quiet.” She answered. “Hey, big bro, what’s up?”

  “I’m with that guy Chuck and Aaron know. I’m going to be a while. You and Tina grab a cab to the hotel when you’re done sniffing flowers. I’ll catch up to you later.”

  “How much later?”

  “I don’t know. Shouldn’t be too long,” Jack replied, then disconnected.

  Laura looked at Willy and Tina. “Got a feeling it’s going to be a long night.”

  The next few hours slid past with Doringer and Jack sharing idle conversation, mostly Doringer talking about his time in the navy and Jack telling jokes and making up stories about life in California.

  At 7:30 p.m. Jack looked at his watch. “Man, look at the time. Too many jokes and too many drinks. The girls are going to be pissed off. I should go, but I’m going to need a cab.” He glanced around. “We’re also the only customers. Bet the restaurant wants to close up.”

  “We haven’t talked any business yet,” Doringer said. “We’ve got time. The restaurant doesn’t close for another thirty minutes.”

  “Yeah, okay, let’s talk. For starters, are you able to handle the amount I want?”

  “Maybe. How soon did you want it?”

  “I’m meeting my brother in two days. I was hoping to know by then so I could talk to ’im about it.”

  “You’re heading up to Alaska this soon?”

  “No.” Jack eyed Doringer. “I reckon Chuck or Aaron already blabbed to you that my brother flies a seaplane.”

  “They mentioned it.”

  Jack frowned. “My sister shouldn’t have said that. But yes, Jim-Bo flies tourists on sightseeing trips and sometimes takes ’em to remote fishing lodges. He also makes regular runs down to Seattle, so I —”

  “He flies by here?” Doringer exclaimed.

  “He has to on his way to Seattle,” Jack replied. “He’s got a trip coming up in the next couple of days and will land in Vancouver for a visit. I’m hoping to be able to have something to tell ’im by then.”

  “Christ, I’d really like to meet ’im,” Doringer said. “The three of us should talk.”

  Jack studied Doringer’s face closely.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I find this suspicious,” Jack stated.

  “Suspicious?” Doringer furrowed his eyebrows. “What’re you talking about?”

  “That you happen to be here on the same day as me. I’m not a guy who generally believes in coincidences. Now you wanting to meet Jim-Bo … well, makes me wonder.”

  “Oh, Chuck and Aaron.” Doringer shook his head. “I’d forgotten what they were to tell you.”

  “Forgotten what?”

  “I live here,” Doringer said, gesturing outward with both hands.

  “Oh. They made it sound like you being here today was a coincidence.”

  “I told ’em to say that because I wanted to meet you before deciding whether to do business with you.”

  Jack nodded. “Okay, but there’s no reason for you to meet my brother.”

  Doringer grinned. “That’s ’cause there’s somethin’ else you don’t know.”

  “Which is?”

  “I live on a boat.”

  “You do?” Jack feigned surprise.

  “Yup.” Doringer leaned back and stuck his thumbs in his waistband, looking smug.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yup.” He smiled. “Wouldn’t you say that a guy with a boat and a guy with a seaplane — who are both in the green business — should get to know each other?”

  “Is your boat near here?” Jack asked. “Can I see it?”

  “Sure. It’s straight down the pier.” Doringer waved a hand at the marina. “Join me on board. I got a bottle of Lamb’s. I’ll pour us a drink and we can talk about it.”

  “Let me phone my sister and tell her I’ll be late,” Jack said.

  “No problem. I gotta go to the head.” Doringer stood and grabbed his jacket. “Don’t worry about the tab. I’ll get it.”

  “Let me split it with you,” Jack offered.

  “Don’t worry about it.” Doringer grinned. “I’ll add it to the cost of the first shipment.” He then disappeared inside the café.

  Jack phoned Laura. “Thangs are going well here, lil’ sister.”

  “Your voice sounds a little slurred,” Laura noted. “You drunk?”

  “I’ve been trying to sound American, but you’re right. I won’t be driving, that’s for sure. The asshole can really hold his booze — keepin’ up wasn’t easy. The good news is he just invited me onto his boat.”

  “Where is he?”

  “He went to the washroom and after we clear the tab, we’re going to his boat.”

  “Hang on,” Laura said. “Willy and Connie have been waiting to sneak out to the OP. I’ll tell them that —”

  “They know and are mobile,” Jack said, on seeing Willy and Connie hustle down the pier. “How about you? Are you nearby?”

  “Tina and I are in a surveillance van, but not close enough that I’d risk making a run for the OP at this point,” Laura replied. “Not only that, the marina is fenced off and I’m told Willy has the only other key.”

  “Too bad.”

  “I’ll grab some binocs and we’ll go out on foot. There’s a place that overlooks the marina, so we’ll be able to watch from there.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Any signal in mind if you need help?” Laura asked.

  “Yeah, if you see me ram Doringer’s head through a porthole and slice his throat open, send for help — but make sure you put enough postage on the envelope.”

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Jack followed Doringer down the pier. When they reached the end, Doringer gestured to his boat. “So whaddaya think of ’er?”

  “She’s beautiful,” Jack replied. He did his best to pretend he was admiring the boat, rather than studying the tender. The dinghy was strapped down under a tarp over a knee-high wooden structure that covered the engine compartment near the stern. The front of the dinghy was about three paces away from the entry to the boat’s cabin. The propeller on the dinghy’s motor protruded outside the tarp close to stern, beckoning to him like a shiny lure to a hungry fish.

  “She’s old, but seaworthy,” Doringer commented. He unlatched a waist-high door in the gunwale, then motioned for Jack to follow him on board.

  Jack stumbled a little when he stepped off the dock. Laura was right. I’m pretty drunk. He glanced at the boat moored opposite them. It was in darkness, but an opening in the curtains over a small sliding window in the cabin told him where the cover team was watching from. He then bent down to take his shoes off.

  “Don’t worry about your shoes,” Doringer said as he fumbled with his key trying to unlock the cabin door. There’s somebody I need you to meet.” He tried to jam the key in the lock, then pulled it out, turned it over, and tried again.

  Good. I’m not the only one feeling the drinks. “You got a lady?” Jack asked.

  Doringer chortled.

  “What’s so funny?” Jack asked.

  Doringer unlocked the door. “Matey ain’t no lady, so it’s best not to let ’im hear you call ’im that. It’s also healthy to stay on his good side. Ain’t that right, b’y?” He was holding the pit bull by the collar and petting it.

  Jack cautiously held out his hand for the dog to smell. A moment later Matey licked his fingers.

  “Looks like you two are going to be friends,” Doringer said. “Come on in and make yourself comfortable.”

  Jack followed Doringer inside and shut the door behind him.

  Doringer flung his jacket on a chair, then opened a cupboard and took out a bottle of Lamb’s Navy Rum. “Go ahead, grab a seat,” he
said, indicating a horseshoe-shaped bench that ringed a wooden table.

  Jack took a seat and beckoned Matey, who seemed to enjoy it when Jack scratched him behind the ears. Good boy. Get to know me in case I need to return later.

  “Damn it, I’m out of ice,” Doringer said, peering into a small bar fridge. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back in ten minutes. Matey probably needs a piss, too, so I’ll take him with me.”

  “Not a problem. I’ll wait where it’s warm.” Jack glanced around. “Man, I’d love to own something like this. Do you mind if I take a look around while I’m waiting?”

  “Go ahead.”

  Jack watched Doringer through the window. When he disappeared down the pier, Jack stepped out onto the rear deck and gestured to his mouth as he faced the OP.

  “What’s he doing? Telling us Doringer went for food?” Connie asked from where she hid in the darkened cabin of the boat.

  “He wants to talk,” Willy said, sliding the window open.

  Jack’s hushed voice came across the pier. “He’s gone for ice. I figure I’ve got about ten minutes. I told him I’d like to own a boat like this and asked for permission to look around while I was waiting. He told me to go ahead. Connie, it’s your call. Does that cover me legally to take a look at the tender?”

  “In my mind it does,” Connie replied. “Hurry!”

  “Cover me.” He quickly examined how the tarp was tied down. One rope encircled the bottom of the tarp, weaving its way in and out of the eyelets. The ends of the rope were knotted under the leg of the propeller.

  Jack undid the knot, then lifted the tarp and bent over the motor to look. The motor was tipped in the “up” position for being removed from the water. In the darkness he was unable to see if the front of it had any damage. His hands fumbled for the lever to lower the motor so he could have a better look.

  Connie’s panicked voice roused his attention. “He’s coming back! He’s coming back!”

  Jack peered over the gunwale and saw that Doringer was seconds away. Son of a bitch. I know time seems to go fast when I’m drinking, but that couldn’t have been ten minutes. He pulled the tarp back over the motor, but didn’t have time to tie it down. He stayed bent over as he crept to the front of the dinghy with the idea of distracting Doringer’s attention.

  As Doringer was looking down to unlatch the door in the gunwale, Jack slowly stood up on the opposite side of the boat. He tried to look nonchalant, as if he’d been standing there the whole time.

  “What’re you doin’ out here?” Doringer asked, startled by his presence as he stepped on board. “I thought you were cold.”

  Jack pulled the collar of his jacket tight to his neck. “I am, but I feel a little queasy, so came out for some air. Do you have the ice already?”

  “Nah, I remembered I left my wallet in my jacket. You too sick to drink now?”

  “Hell, no. I get this all the time. I’ve got a peptic ulcer, but I’ll be fine by the time you’re back with the ice.” He smiled reassuringly at Doringer and felt a light breeze sweep across the boat. Hope the damn tarp stays in place.

  Doringer nodded, then ducked into the cabin.

  Jack glanced at the dinghy. The rope running through the eyelets on the tarp had slackened and drooped from eyelet to eyelet. Oh, crap. He’d little time to think about it as Doringer stepped back out onto the deck. Okay, yawn and stretch my arms high over my head to divert his attention. Keep him talking so he’s looking at me.

  Doringer’s focus did remain on Jack, but he had neither his jacket nor his wallet in his hand. What he had was a .45-calibre Glock pistol that he pointed straight at Jack’s face. “You’re either a cop or a rat and I don’t give a fuck which, because you’re dead!”

  Chapter Fifty

  Over her earpiece Connie heard Laura’s panicked alert. “Gun! Gun!”

  She was too busy to reply. Although Doringer had his back to her and the gunwale prevented her from seeing all but the top half of his body, everyone in the OP had heard his harsh declaration to kill Jack. She’d already stuck the barrel of her Smith & Wesson 9mm semi-automatic pistol out the window and was aiming down the sights — dead centre between Doringer’s shoulder blades.

  “Police! Drop it!” she yelled. “Drop it!”

  A simultaneous barrage of yelling and noise erupted from the other four officers in the OP as they scrambled out the rear cabin door while drawing their weapons.

  Doringer glanced in Connie’s direction. It was something she’d relive in her nightmares forever. His glance was only a second, but even in the shadows cast across his face, she saw the look of rage. She knew in her heart that he wasn’t going to comply with her command. As he turned to face Jack again, his right shoulder lifted slightly as his elbow straightened to shoot.

  Connie knew what she had to do. Her brain automatically shut off all the noise and commotion as her vision zeroed in on Doringer’s back. Time and motion seemed to slow … and she squeezed the trigger. She was aware that her aim had been diverted slightly higher due to the movement caused when the cover team leaped off the OP onto the pier. A head shot is okay. Maybe even better.

  Her finger was still wrapped around the trigger as she stared down the barrel, the sound of the shot echoing in her ears. Her training commanded she fire a second shot and her finger twitched as her brain told her not to. “Oh, God! No!” she screamed. It wasn’t Doringer she saw in that brief instant when her gun first discharged. It was Jack’s face as he tackled Doringer.

  Connie stood, gaping in horror as both figures fell from view.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Laura was still yelling a warning into her portable radio when she heard the gunshot. She jammed the binoculars back into her eye sockets. The gunshot had sent the dog running down the pier toward safety while four members of the cover team swarmed across the pier. Jack was no longer visible. She envisioned his body lying on the deck below the gunwale.

  “What happened?” Tina demanded.

  “I don’t see Jack!” Laura cried. “I think Doringer shot him — the cover team are boarding.”

  “No, oh, no.” Tina stood on her tiptoes, trying desperately to see what was happening below — but the light was too dim and the distance too great.

  Laura glanced at the high fence with the locked gate blocking entrance to the marina, then raised the binoculars again. She saw Connie, with her weapon hung loosely by her side, cross over from the OP and peer over the gunwale of Doringer’s boat. Whatever Connie saw caused her to put her hand over her face. Even from that distance, Laura could tell that her body was shaking.

  Willy was the first of the cover team to leap over the gunwale. A wretched gurgling sound emitted from the surface of the deck. Jack was lying over Doringer, clenching his Adam’s apple in a talon-like grip while pinning his head to the deck. Doringer’s body convulsed in a desperate need for air. He clawed in vain with one hand trying to loosen Jack’s hold. His other hand was pinned to the deck as Jack held his wrist.

  Willy saw Doringer’s pistol lying on the deck and quickly picked it up. “Got it, Jack. You can let him go. I’ve got him covered.”

  Jack continued to dig and twist his fingers deep into Doringer’s throat as if trying to rip his Adam’s apple from his neck. In response, Doringer’s legs thrashed wildly and his feet pounded the deck.

  “Jack, I’ve got his weapon, so you can let him go,” Willy repeated more loudly. Jack paid no heed. Willy glanced at the other three officers watching. “Jack! You’re crushing his larynx! You’re going to kill him!”

  Jack looked up without releasing his grip. “Hey, Willy. Nice of you guys to drop in. There’s a bottle of rum inside on the counter. How about you all go in and mix some drinks? I’ll be done in a minute.”

  “Christ, Jack, let go before you kill ’im!” Willy pleaded.

  “The bastard had a gun,” Jack replied
. “I’m acting in self-defence.”

  “Wrong!” Willy said.

  Jack hesitated, then let go. “Yeah, okay, I know. Sure felt good, though.” He rose unsteadily to his feet as two members of the cover team bent down to handcuff Doringer.

  “He’s okay! He’s okay!” announced Laura from her viewpoint.

  “You sure?” Tina asked excitedly.

  “Yes, he stood up.”

  “So it was Doringer who was shot,” Tina said.

  “Probably. No, they’re standing him up. He’s cuffed, bent over like he’s hurt.”

  “Shot?”

  “I can’t tell. Two members are holding him up by each arm. I’ll radio Connie and have her open the — Wait!”

  “What’s wrong?” Tina asked anxiously.

  “Connie’s hugging Jack. Wow. I never knew she felt that close to him.” After a pause she muttered tersely, “Enough already, Connie. He’s my partner, not yours.”

  Jack was surprised that Connie had responded so warmly to him. He patted her back as she held him, the side of her face tight to his chest. Is she glad I’m alive — or pleased that we solved Dwayne’s murder?

  Laura’s voice was audible over Connie’s earpiece. “Hey, Connie, did you forget about us up here? Open the gate!”

  “It’s Laura,” Connie said, stepping back from the embrace.

  “I heard,” Jack replied. “I’ll come with you. We should talk about what’s happening.”

  “What’s happening?” Connie repeated.

  Jack gave a nod toward Doringer. “Without him listening.”

  Connie nodded.

  “I expect you’ll be busy for a while, collecting evidence and getting Forensics over,” Jack said as they strolled along the pier toward the gate.

  “Yes … yes, of course,” Connie replied.

  “The thing is, I’ve got some things happening back on the mainland.”

  “With Chuck and Aaron?”