A Delicate Matter Read online

  “Speaking of bug planters, have you checked with their office to see if they currently have the space to monitor the wiretaps for us?”

  “I called them. They said they could handle it.”

  “Sounds like you have your ducks in a row,” Rose said. “Why are you sitting here? Get to work.”

  The next several days were hectic for Jack and Laura, but by Monday afternoon a judge had approved the wiretap order. It named Buck Zabat, Mickey O’Bryan, alias Mouse, Frederick Smith, alias Banjo, and Neal, Bob, and Roxie Barlow. An attempt to obtain a wiretap order on the other Gypsy Devil prospects had been turned down by the prosecutor, who deemed there was insufficient evidence.

  By late Monday night, an electronics team was successful in planting a satellite tracker and listening device in Mouse’s limo.

  Bob stored his semi in the barn next to his house in Delta, which was about a twenty-minute drive out of Vancouver. A pit bull was observed chained in the yard, and any attempt to place electronic equipment in the semi wasn’t possible because someone had always been home.

  At noon on Tuesday Jack was at his desk when he received a call from Nicole Purney, who was a civilian member tasked with monitoring the wiretaps. Informants’ identities were not disclosed in the wiretap, but simply referred to as “informant A” or “informant B.” Nicole knew that Jack was one of the lead investigators conducting a drug investigation involving the named targets with the Gypsy Devils and Satans Wrath, but that was all.

  “Banjo made his first call,” Nicole said, “and I’m certain it’s a good one. He asked some guy how many crabs he caught and the guy said seven. The guy then told him to hang onto them and bring them to the party on Thursday.”

  “Any idea who Banjo was calling?” Jack asked.

  “No, it’s a disposable phone. The guy was complaining that he might have food poisoning. He sounded like he was in pain.”

  “Give me the guy’s number. I’ll talk to my informant later and see if I can match it with other names and numbers he might have.” Jack smiled when he saw that the number Nicole gave him was Larry’s number, which he already had in his notebook.

  “Hold a sec,” said Nicole. “Banjo has called someone else … asking how many cases of beer the guy is bringing to Thursday’s party.”

  “Maybe they’re having a party drinking beer and eating crab,” Jack suggested, pretending to question Nicole’s assessment.

  “I don’t think so. Doing my job, you get a feeling for people’s tone of voice after a while. I think these calls are dirty.”

  “I believe you,” Jack replied. “Have you told Drug Section?”

  “Not yet, but I’ll give Sammy a call.”

  “Thanks.” Jack felt his phone vibrate. “I’ve got another call. Talk to you later.”

  Jack answered his phone and was pleased that it was Larry, telling him that Banjo had called him to say the delivery was set for Thursday night.

  “You’re grunting like you hurt yourself,” Jack noted. “Is something wrong?”

  “I’ve been throwin’ up,” Larry replied. “I think I got food poisoning.” He yelped in pain.

  “Cramps in your abdomen?” Jack asked.

  Larry moaned. “The pain was around my belly button earlier, but it’s now down on my lower right side. Maybe what I haven’t puked is workin’ its way out.”

  “It could be appendicitis. You need to see a doctor. If your appendix ruptures and you’re stuck out there, you could die.”

  “Yeah, but the weed … Our deal needs to — Shit dat ’urts!” Larry moaned. “I’ve already cleared out most of my hydro equipment and got it back at my apartment. All I need is for Banjo to get the weed. Another two days and — Lard tunderin’ Jesus b’y, she ’urts.”

  “Get your ass to a doctor now,” Jack ordered. “Then call me back.”

  “But what if you’re right? Won’t they put me in the hospital?”

  “Yes, but only for a couple of days if it isn’t ruptured.”

  “A coupla days? I gotta be here Thursday. Dwayne can’t handle the delivery. He can’t even drive.”

  “One step at a time. See what the doctor says. Maybe it’s nothing, but if worse comes to worst we’ll figure something out. If it’s appendicitis, the GDs will just have to wait or pick it up themselves.”

  “They won’t go out in the middle of the night in my dinky little boat to get it,” Larry muttered. “I got six duffle bags of it stored at the campsite now. Got about one more to go.” He hesitated before going on, “Still, me nerves is rubbed right raw wit da pain.”

  “Look, if it ruptures, you’ll be a lot worse.”

  “You really think it’d kill me?”

  “Definitely.”

  “That’s all I need is to wake up dead. Okay, I’ll do it. Dwayne can take care of the remainin’ bag. Except …”

  “Except what?”

  “If I’s gone a coupla days, Dwayne’ll be stranded out there … but guess it’s okay. He’s got food.”

  “Give him my number,” Jack suggested. “If you end up in the hospital and he needs anything, tell him to call me.”

  “Yeah … okay.”

  It was 6:00 p.m. and Jack was on his way home from work when Larry called back and said, “I’m at Vancouver General. You was right, b’y. It’s me appendix. I’m goin’ in for surgery in a few minutes. They think it just ruptured an’ said I’ll be here for at least five days. I better call Banjo and —” A cry of pain and a nurse’s voice in the background interrupted his sentence.

  “Forget about Banjo until after your surgery,” Jack said.

  “I … okay, okay.”

  Two hours later Jack received a call that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

  “Officer Taggart! Officer Taggart! It’s Dwayne! I can’t get hold of Larry! He won’t answer!”

  “It’s okay, Dwayne, settle down,” Jack said calmly. “Your brother had to go to the hospital, but he’ll be okay.”

  “I know! He tol’ me, but they’re stealing all our bags,” Dwayne said excitedly. “I gotta stop ’em.”

  “Who’s stealing the bags?” Jack’s tone sharpened.

  “Three men in a boat. They got three bags already and went back for the rest.”

  “Do they know you’re there?”

  “No, I was hiding — but I’m gonna trick them and smash their motor,” Dwayne said, sounding pleased with himself.

  “No, stay hiding,” Jack ordered.

  “I got a rock.”

  “No! Don’t do anything except stay hidden.”

  The sound of rock smashing on metal told Jack he wasn’t heard. “Stop!” Jack screamed into the phone. “Can you hear me? Stop!”

  The noise stopped and Dwayne said, “Uh-oh, they’re coming. Uh-oh.”

  “Run!” Jack yelled. “Get away from there!”

  Then he heard Dwayne shout, “I’m a deputy! You-you’re in big trouble!”

  “Think you can fuck with my boat and get away with it?” a distant man yelled.

  “Stay away from me! I’m warning you!” Dwayne shrieked.

  “Why you little fucker!” The man sounded surprised, as well as angry.

  The sound of a gunshot caused Jack’s arm to twitch.

  “He shot me, Officer Taggart!” Dwayne cried. “In my tummy. I’m gonna die, aren’t I? Oh no, oh no …”

  “Dwayne! Fall down! Pretend you’re dead!”

  “It really hurts,” Dwayne sobbed. “I — Stay away!” he cried. “You go away!”

  A second gunshot echoed over the phone, followed by what sounded like the phone bouncing off a rock and into water. Jack stood with his mouth agape, holding his breath as he strained to listen. All he heard was his own conscience screaming at him. Telling him he’d screwed up and that Dwayne had been murdered as a result.
r />   Chapter Seven

  It was an hour and forty-five minutes later when Jack and Laura arrived in a high-speed Zodiac boat in the company of officers from the Integrated Border Enforcement Team.

  Powerful spotlights cut through the darkness and illuminated the shoreline. As the boat approached the shore, Jack leaped off into the knee-deep water of the rising tide and ran toward the pathway. His calls to Dwayne went unanswered.

  It was midnight by the time Corporal Connie Crane of the Integrated Homicide Investigation Team arrived on another I-BET boat, along with officers from the Forensic Science and Identification Service.

  Jack took Connie aside and tersely told her the background of the situation, starting with his and Laura’s first meeting with Larry and Dwayne and ending with the details of the call he’d received from Dwayne earlier.

  “I take it you’ve checked the area?” Connie asked, glancing around.

  “I-BET searched the shoreline and out in the ocean while we were waiting for you. They didn’t find anything. Laura and I went to where Larry and Dwayne have a tent, but there was also nobody there. We stayed off the path so as not to contaminate the scene. Same goes for where the tent is pitched. I did look inside, but was careful not to step on any footprints — not that I saw any. The ground is matted with pine needles. There’s one thing I noticed later,” Jack said, looking forlornly back at the entrance to the path.

  “What’s that?”

  “Larry had a blue nylon rope tied to some cement blocks that he used for mooring his boat. The rope and the blocks are gone.”

  “I’ll call the dive team out in the morning,” Connie said. “For now, I want a written statement. Word for word of the phone call you got tonight, if you can remember.”

  Remember? I’ll never forget it. “Already done,” Jack replied. “It’s on the boat I arrived in.” He pointed to the I-BET Zodiac.

  “Do you think you’d be able to recognize the voice of whoever yelled at Dwayne for screwing with his boat?”

  “The guy wasn’t close enough to the phone. Maybe even running. With the sound of the waves … well, I’d never recognize the voice.”

  “You sure?” Connie asked, a hint of suspicion in her voice.

  Jack knew she was thinking about previous cases they’d worked where some people he investigated turned up dead. “If I could identify the voice, I’d be after you to let me listen to whatever suspects you might come up with — but I can’t.”

  “How’d you and Laura know to come here the first time and look for a grow-op?”

  “From another informant.” Jack swallowed some bile. Christ, I wonder if my voice sounds as acidic as my throat feels.

  “Is there any way this other informant could’ve had something to do with —”

  “No. He wanted the drugs to be delivered by Larry to save his own ass. He’s definitely not involved.”

  “Could the Gypsy Devils have come to do a rip-off … maybe not realizing Larry had a brother?”

  “Possible, but I don’t think so,” Jack replied. “The GDs would definitely rip someone off — but not Satans Wrath. They wouldn’t risk pissing those guys off.”

  “Maybe Larry will have some potential suspects,” Connie suggested.

  “Maybe. I’ll talk to him. Find out who else knew about this place.”

  “I want to be with you when you talk to him,” Connie stated flatly.

  “I expected you would.” Jack nodded. “I’ll send Laura back to the office to compile a dossier for you of all the Gypsy Devils and their known associates. While she’s doing that, you and I can notify Larry.”

  “I appreciate that.” As they returned to the boats, Connie gave Jack a sideways glance. “Do you have any suspicions at all as to who did it? Even an inkling?”

  “If I did, I wouldn’t have been here waiting for you,” he replied coldly.

  It was 6:00 a.m. when Jack and Connie identified themselves at the nurses’ station and explained they were there to do a next-of-kin notification. The nurse led them to where Larry was sleeping. Three other patients were sleeping in the room and the nurse pulled a curtain around Larry’s bed for privacy before leaving.

  Jack stared at Larry, then took a deep breath and slowly exhaled before gently shaking him awake.

  Larry mumbled as he awoke, then his eyes widened. “What’re you doing here? Who’s she?”

  “Corporal Crane,” Jack replied. “She and I are working together at the moment.”

  “Whaddaya doin’ here?”

  “I’ve some bad news,” Jack said. “I think Dwayne was murdered last night by someone ripping off your stash.”

  “What? No! What do you mean, you think?” Larry demanded.

  Jack quietly relayed the phone call he’d received, along with the news that Dwayne could not be found and that the nylon anchor rope and cement blocks were missing.

  “Maybe they took him to scare him,” Larry suggested, apparently unable to accept the reality of the situation.

  “I told you that Dwayne said he was shot in the stomach,” Jack reminded him. “Then there was that other shot and he never spoke again.”

  Larry squeezed his eyes tight, but that didn’t stop the tears from running down his cheeks. “I shouldn’t have left ’im out dere alone,” he said.

  Jack laid a hand on his shoulder and gave a sympathetic squeeze. A moment later Larry’s face clouded with anger and he jerked back. “You took the shotgun away,” he said accusingly. “The poor boy had nothin’ to defend himself with!”

  “I’m sorry, but —”

  “You’re sorry?” Larry was almost yelling now. “That’s it? Me brother’s dead and you’re sorry? You said you’d protect us!”

  Jack lowered his voice. “You’re angry right now. So am I. Whoever did it will be caught. That I promise,” he said adamantly.

  “Like you promised to look after us and not let anything happen?” Larry snorted contemptuously.

  “I understand why you’re pissed off at me and we can talk about that later, but now we need to ask you some questions.”

  Larry acted like he hadn’t heard. The anger on his face changed to grief. “Aw fuck. Who am I kiddin’? It ain’t your fault. I should never’ve got him involved. It’s me who got ’im killed.”

  “You were looking after your brother the best you could,” Jack said. “Sometimes the consequences of our actions are never what we expected or wanted. It wasn’t you who murdered Dwayne. You need to realize that.”

  Larry stared glumly toward his feet without replying.

  Connie cleared her throat. “I’m sorry we have to ask you questions at a time like this, but every second we waste helps the killer. Who else knew where the grow-op was?”

  Larry ignored Connie and looked sharply at Jack. “Banjo! You think Banjo —”

  “I don’t think Banjo did it,” Jack said, “but if he did, I’ll find out.”

  “How? He’ll just lie to ya.”

  Jack didn’t want Larry to know about the wiretap, let alone that he had an informant in Satans Wrath, so he decided to lie. “The same way I knew where your grow-op was.”

  “How’d ya know?”

  “You have to swear to me that you’ll never tell anyone,” Jack said.

  “I swear,” Larry said solemnly.

  “One of the Gypsy Devils is talking to me. I’ll soon know if they’re responsible.”

  “They gotta be the ones,” Larry said decisively. “Only them knows where it is.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  “Could Dwayne have told someone where the grow-op is?” Connie asked.

  “Nah. He don’t even know how to get to it on his own. Besides, I keeps a close eye on ’im. Ain’t no way he told anyone.” Larry looked at Jack. “Forget about trying to protect me. I’ll testify or
do anything you want. I don’t care what happens to me now.”

  “There is something you could help us with immediately,” Jack told him. “I want you to call Banjo. Tell him that it was you Dwayne called last night and say that you called the cops to try to save him because you’re in the hospital. Then say that Corporal Crane from Homicide came by to tell you that Dwayne couldn’t be found. Banjo will want to know what you told the police about the weed, so tell him that you said it was yours and that you planned to sell it yourself.”

  “He might ask if I’m being charged,” Larry said, looking at Jack and Connie for an answer. “With having a grow-op I mean.”

  Connie shook her head. “Your cooperation … and loss in this matter will ensure that you’re not charged.”

  “And all my hydro equipment?” Larry asked. “Are ya takin’ dat?”

  “Damn it, Larry,” Jack said. “The deal we made was for you to go straight after —”

  “I intend to,” Larry protested, “but the equipment cost me a lotta money. If you don’t take it, I could sell it on eBay or somethin’.”

  “Cooperate with us and I’ll let you keep it,” Connie said. “Make the call.”

  Larry did as requested. When he was finished, he hung up and scowled.

  “What did he say?” Jack asked.

  “At first he was surprised. Then he pretended to be all sympathetic. I could tell it was an act. The fucker was more concerned about losing the weed than what happened to Dwayne. He was worried, too, about what I told the cops. Seemed okay, though, when I told ’im what you said to tell ’im.”

  “Anything else?” Jack asked.

  “Yeah, well I guess you heard me goin’ on ’bout how it was only his guys who knew about the grow-op an’ he better find out who did it.”

  “What did he say?” asked Connie.

  “Said he’d get back to me.”

  “We’ll find out who did it,” Jack said. “You can’t be certain it was the Gypsy Devils. Personally I don’t think it was.”

  “They’re the only ones who know about it. It has —”