A Delicate Matter Read online

  “Providing we don’t find other streams,” Laura said.

  “Even if we do, it shouldn’t take us long to find out if there was or is someone else up there.”

  “Is this what you call watching from the sidelines?”

  “If we find something, I’ll pass on my theory to Connie and she can go look for herself,” Jack said. “She won’t need to know we were there.”

  “Unless someone takes another go at us with a shotgun.” Laura’s tone was wry. “Then you may need to include a body in your theory — and hopefully not mine.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Jack and Laura arrived at what had been Larry’s grow-op at nine-thirty Saturday morning. Three hours later Jack had to admit defeat. The time they’d spent searching for another grow-op turned out to be fruitless.

  “Well, it was worth a shot,” Laura said when they returned to where they’d moored the boat. It was the same spot where Dwayne had been murdered. The tide had gone out and she saw a couple of wire markers on the exposed and quadrated beach that Forensics had left, indicating where Dwayne’s phone had been located.

  Jack glanced at the markers, then picked up a fist-size stone and threw it as far as he could. The stone landed short of the quadrated area.

  “The cell phone would’ve been lighter,” Laura said.

  Jack didn’t reply as he stared out at the ocean.

  “They would’ve found the stone if there were any markings left on it,” Laura said next. “Forensics searched all the way out.”

  Jack still didn’t reply. He replayed Dwayne’s last call over again in his mind. Stay away from me! I’m warning you! He briefly closed his eyes to concentrate on what followed. You little fucker! He winced at what he remembered next and opened his eyes.

  “What’re you thinking?” Laura asked.

  “Whoever shot Dwayne swore at him first, calling him a little fucker. He sounded surprised. I’m guessing that Dwayne threw a rock at him.” Jack picked up another fist-size rock. This time he threw it in the opposite direction, toward the path that emerged from the forest. It bounced off rocks along the shoreline and went sideways.

  “How well did Forensics search in the opposite direction?” Jack wondered aloud.

  “We’re here. Let’s find out,” Laura said.

  They searched the area where Jack’s rock had landed but came up empty-handed.

  Jack stood and stretched his back muscles, then pointed at a thicket of blackberry bushes across from them. “Maybe it bounced or landed in there.”

  Laura looked at the thorny bushes. “Be my guest. I’ll cover you,” she joked.

  Jack picked up a dead branch and used it to defend himself from the thorns as he slowly progressed. The branch offered only partial protection

  “You look like you lost a fight with about a dozen tomcats,” Laura said as Jack continued to make his way deeper.

  Jack didn’t respond. His eyes were focused on the ground and he knelt to peer at something. When he stood, his smile told Laura what he’d found.

  “You what?” Connie exclaimed into her phone. “You’re telling me you found the rock that Dwayne used to smash the boat engine?”

  “I think so,” Jack replied. “I haven’t touched it, but it has what looks like fresh scrape marks on it and bits of blue paint.”

  “What were you doing out there?” Connie asked.

  Jack told her about looking for a second grow-op, then his idea to throw a rock in the opposite direction from where the cellphone had been tossed.

  “You’re thinking that Dwayne threw the rock at whoever killed him,” Connie said.

  “Yes.”

  “Why the hell didn’t Forensics find it?”

  “It wasn’t easy to find,” Jack replied. “I almost missed it myself. Come out and take a look. It’s in the middle of a huge clump of blackberry bushes.”

  “You were ordered not to stick your nose into my investigation.”

  “You angry with me?” Jack asked in surprise.

  “Hell, no … not me,” Connie replied. “I can’t accuse you of butting in by going to an area that we’d given up on. If we can match the rock to paint and scrapes on King’s boat, we’ll have him.”

  “I don’t think it was King,” Jack said. “That’s why Laura and I went looking for another grow-op in the area.”

  “Even if you’re right, it’ll still be good physical evidence. If it is paint on the rock from a boat motor, give the lab a couple of weeks and they should be able to tell us the make and maybe the size of the engine. It’d be a big step in pointing us in the right direction. Will you wait there until I arrive?”

  “You bet.”

  “It’s noon now. I better let Inspector Dyck know and call Forensics back out. We should be there within two hours.”

  “Wear gloves and heavy clothing. Tell Forensics to do the same.”

  “To hell with them,” Connie snapped. “It’ll be justice for them not finding the rock to start with.”

  At two-fifteen Connie arrived with two Forensic investigators. Jack and Laura watched as they went to work taking photographs, then used gardening shears to expose where the rock was lying. When Forensics began measuring distances from the shore and taking more photographs, Jack and Laura said goodbye to a thankful Connie and returned to the marina.

  It was four o’clock when they paid for the boat rental in the marina office. As they did so a uniformed RCMP officer came out of an office in the rear and walked outside toward his patrol car. Jack and Laura caught up to him and identified themselves.

  “You here over something to do with the homicide four days ago on Bowen Island?” Jack asked.

  “I’ve nothing to do with that,” the officer replied. “I’m here because the marina reported a break-in last night.”

  Jack’s brow furrowed. “Much stolen?”

  “Nothing. I’m wondering if there really was a break-in. There was no sign of a forced entry and the door was locked when they arrived. I’m betting someone forgot to lock it when they closed the office and doesn’t want to admit it. They’re claiming someone broke in because a lamp had been knocked over and broken. They also said they could tell that someone had rifled through their files. They don’t keep any cash on the premises, so if it was a break-in, whoever did it didn’t get anything.”

  “Hardly worth your time and effort to come out here,” Jack said.

  “You got it, but a friend of mine lives out this way. Good excuse to come out for a coffee.”

  Jack said goodbye, then quickly headed for where he’d parked his SUV.

  “Hey, can you slow down a bit?” Laura complained. “My legs aren’t as long as yours.”

  “We have to hustle,” Jack said. “We need to return to the office and pick up the video recorder and grab King’s address. Hopefully the ultimatum takes place after nine tonight and not some other night.”

  “The ultimatum?”

  “Satans Wrath gave King and the Cobras an ulti-matum to pay by nine tonight or face the consequences. I think Satans Wrath did the break-in — at least one or two of their guys have taken locksmithing and could pick locks. If someone hadn’t knocked the desk lamp over, nobody would’ve been the wiser. I think that whoever broke into the marina last night did get what they were looking for.”

  “King’s address,” Laura said.

  “You got it. How about we go and do what we were ordered to do?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Watch from the sidelines.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  It was 7:30 p.m. when Jack and Laura drove past King’s house, a single-storey box-shaped place situated next to an empty lot partway up the block. It had a garage off the rear alley and the yard was overgrown with weeds. A white bedsheet hung over the living-room window to provide privacy from the street.

  “The l
iving room has a side window facing the empty lot — I can look in there, see if anyone’s home,” Jack said. “Let me out at the end of the block. I’ll walk down the street, cut through the lot, and look through the window, then return up the alley.”

  Moments later Jack crept up to the house and looked through the side window. He recognized King and Weasel, both sitting on a sofa. A coffee table in front of them held numerous beer bottles and an ashtray overflowing with butts. They each held game controllers in their hands and were concentrating on the television screen across from them.

  Jack then cut through the lot to the rear alley. A clunker was parked in front of the garage behind the house. As he continued up the alley he noticed a pickup truck parked there. He recognized Neal behind the steering wheel.

  Jack looked away and pretended to scratch his head as he neared, so as not to show his face. Neil did likewise. Jack smiled to himself. You don’t want to be seen, either, Neal. Be careful you don’t get robbed. You never know when Mad Dog might leap out …

  “Anything?” Laura asked when Jack returned to the SUV.

  “Yes. I’d say that King is going to get some unwanted guests tonight.”

  Laura listened as Jack told her what he’d seen. “So Satans Wrath are going to have the Gypsy Devils do their dirty work for them,” she concluded.

  “Looks that way. Although I’m sure a representative from Satans Wrath will be present to ensure that King knows that the message is from them. Also to order the GDs around to make clear who’s in charge.”

  “Maybe it’ll be Weenie Wagger. He’s their liaison.”

  “I doubt it,” Jack said. “He’s still hobbling around in a cast. They’ll want someone who looks tougher and meaner for this job, but he still should’ve called to let us know.”

  “You told me he’s been getting drunk a lot.”

  “He’s not handling the stress too well, that’s for sure.” Jack gave a nod toward King’s house. “As long as the action takes place in the living room, I should be able to video it.”

  “While remaining on the sidelines as ordered,” Laura mused.

  Jack grinned. “Of course. Weenie Wagger said they planned on putting a couple of them in hospital this time. I like seeing bad guys spank each other.”

  “Even if we get video, what do you plan on doing with it?”

  “Later on, if the Cobras don’t pay up, I’m sure one or two of them will get whacked. If that happens, I’ll turn the video over to Connie. It’ll be a good place for her to start her investigation.”

  Laura raised an eyebrow. “That could prove interesting. Are you hoping to rub her nose in it that we’ve been sidelined?”

  “Only a little. I know we had to take a back seat in this, but it might be a small inducement for them to decide that we shouldn’t be sidelined completely.”

  Dusk had fallen when Jack returned to spy on King and Weasel as the two continued to play video games and drink beer.

  Drink lots, guys. It might numb the pain …

  Laura hid in a backyard a few houses down to watch Neal, who was still sitting in his truck.

  It was after ten when Jack saw two cars drive past in the alley. Seconds later he pressed his finger to his earpiece and listened to Laura’s hushed voice. “They’ve arrived. Headlights turned off … can’t tell how many got out. They’ve popped their trunks and it looks like a couple of them are baseball players. One might have a sawed-off rifle or shotgun, as well, tucked inside his jacket.”

  “Copy that,” Jack replied.

  “They’re coming down the alley … going past me ... count about eight guys. One is wearing full-patch SW colours.”

  “Can you make out who it is?”

  “Too dark. Hang on, there’s a prospect with him — but I don’t see any GD colours at all.”

  “Makes the message clearer about who’s running the show.”

  “They’re stopped in the alley behind the house and are whispering to each other.”

  “Showtime,” Jack said.

  “Oh, man. I just realized — Neal continued walking your way. He’s almost where you are. Copy?”

  “Copy and out.” Jack cursed silently when he heard Neal’s footsteps and realized he didn’t have time to hide. He looked at the empty lot next to where he was standing and dived into a patch of tall weeds and flattened himself on the ground.

  Neal crossed the empty lot close to where Jack lay motionless, but his attention was focused on the open living-room window. He crept across the lot onto King’s property and looked in. Seconds later he retraced his steps down the alley.

  Jack got to his feet and radioed, “I’m back. He didn’t see me.”

  “Good. Sorry about that,” Laura whispered. “Okay, I can confirm there’s eight altogether … they’ve broken into two groups … five, including the two SWs are heading for the rear door. The other three are going around front. Can I come to where you are?”

  “As long as you make sure they don’t leave someone outside standing six,” Jack cautioned her. “I don’t want you spotted.”

  “Copy.”

  Jack crept closer to the open window and stopped at the edge of the shadows. He turned on the camera and focused it on the two men playing video games.

  Seconds later the front and rear doors of the house were kicked open simultaneously. King and Weasel looked at each other in panic. Before they could get to their feet, six Gypsy Devils rushed into the room. Two of the bikers were brandishing baseball bats, one had a pistol, and another held a sawed-off shotgun.

  “What the —” Weasel screamed. A baseball bat landed a bone-crunching blow to his chest. He emitted a gurgle and gasped for air.

  King looked on dumbfounded, then a melee of fists, kicks, and wallops with bats followed. Both King and Weasel ended up on the floor, where the assault continued.

  When the beating stopped, both victims lay moaning. Then they were searched and roughly thrown back onto the sofa. Weasel sat slumped over, coughing up blood that had trickled down his throat from a broken nose. King had a gash over his eye, but tried to sit upright and look defiant.

  Jack nodded at Laura as she joined him in time to see the group of GDs part in the middle to make way for the full-patch member of Satans Wrath. Jack knew him by the nickname of Hammer and focused the camera on him.

  Hammer strutted past the two helpless victims to ensure they saw his colours, then made a pretence of glancing at his watch. “Your time was up an hour ago,” he told King. “You gonna pay for what you stole from us?”

  “We didn’t steal it,” King said angrily. “My guys had nothin’ to do with it!”

  Jack’s view was blocked when another biker stepped in the way. The bottom rocker said he was a Satans Wrath prospect. Hammer’s voice was still loud and clear. “You think we’re runnin’ a fuckin’ courtroom where y’can enter a not guilty plea? Judgment has been passed. You’ve been found guilty and now it’s time to pay up!”

  “But we didn’t do it,” Weasel whined.

  “They ain’t listening,” Hammer declared. “Show ’im what happens when you don’t listen!”

  The prospect moved in time for Jack to see the Gypsy Devil named Thor swing a baseball bat and shatter Weasel’s leg below his knee. The Cobra emitted a blood-gurgling scream and grabbed his leg.

  “You fucker!” King yelled, leaping to his feet and trying to wrestle the bat from Thor’s grip.

  The prospect pulled a pistol from his waistband and smashed the butt end on King’s temple. One blow was enough and King fell to the floor like a boneless sack of skin. The prospect was not deterred, however, and aimed a well-directed kick at his groin, followed by a stomp on his ribs.

  “See what happens when you don’t show respect!” the prospect said as he turned and pointed his pistol at Weasel.

  It was the first time that Jack was ab
le to see the prospect’s face and his adrenalin soared. Buck Zabat! He steadied the camera and continued to record.

  “Please, don’t kill me,” Weasel begged.

  Hammer’s voice came again. “We won’t this time. Tell King when he’s done napping that we’re giving you another three days to come up with what you owe us. Don’t make us come looking for you next time!”

  “I’ll tell him,” Weasel snivelled.

  All the bikers left through the rear door of the house, but Jack kept filming the contorted look of pain on Weasel’s face as he steadied his broken leg with one hand while reaching down and shaking King on the shoulder.

  A full minute passed before Weasel came to the same realization that Jack and Laura did. King was dead.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jack and Laura listened to Weasel’s frantic 911 call. He told the dispatcher that three men wearing masks had broken into their house and killed King with a baseball bat. He said he tried to stop them and had been hit himself.

  Laura saw a grim smile cross Jack’s face. She knew what he was thinking: Weasel is smart enough not to name the bikers and become a witness. Jack gave her a nod and they hurried back to their SUV, where she stuck the keys in the ignition, but Jack brushed her hand away before she could start the engine.

  “We need to talk,” he said.

  “No kidding we need to talk,” she replied emphatically. “We just witnessed a murder and it’s obvious Weasel isn’t going to say who did it!”

  “Yes, I never dreamed things would turn out so good,” he said excitedly.

  “Turn out good?” Oh, man. “So you’re thinking of scooping Buck up and charging him with murder?”

  “No, it’d be more like manslaughter if we did. The murder wouldn’t be ruled intentional by the courts. Everything considered — even if the prosecutor brought criminal-organization charges into play, I bet he’d still only be looking at five to ten years of actual time.”