I flip to the latest Instagram post. “Was she with him?”
He looks at Jiang and a similar note appears. This time I see the number on it: five hundred. It disappears. He shakes his head. I scroll down. Again he shakes his head. I scroll to the post of her with the guy whose face is partly covered by the fedora. “How about him?”
“Probably. I can’t really see his face so well but he had that hat.”
“Did she seem happy, worried, frightened or what?”
“She was having fun. What do you say? Party girl?”
“Did they stay long?”
He shrugs.
“What did they do?”
“Drank.”
“They just drank and left?”
He looks at Phil and another note appears on the bar. This time it doesn’t disappear. He looks at it for a moment and then looks back at Phil. A second note joins it. They are accepted. “The guy paid me for the use of a room and they went upstairs.”
How the hell do I tell that to Mr. Gutkowski?
“What time did they leave?”
We get the answer for free. “I don’t know, customers who use the rooms leave by the back door.”
“The guy she was with, has he been here before? Do you know him?”
He looks at Phil but no new note appears. Phil just says a couple of words in Cantonese.
Red shirt just shrugs. “He comes in sometimes,” he says.
“How often?”
He says something to Phil and another five-hundred note passes hands.
“Maybe two times a week. He lives round here.”
“Do you know his name or where he lives?”
Yet again he just shakes his head.
We walk the three blocks to Mr. Lee’s house in silence. Phil seems to sense I need to process what we’ve just heard. The Lexus is parked outside. We get in and Phil eases it away from the curb. “Was he telling the truth?” I ask.
“Almost certainly,” he says. “Generally you get what you pay for in Hong Kong.”
“It just doesn’t make sense. Zelena spends a week with her boyfriend at the Kerry. She tells her best friend she’s head-over-heels in love with him and then, the day after he leaves, she sneaks out of the hotel, meets some guy, goes to a sleazy bar with him, goes upstairs to have sex with him and never goes back to the hotel.”
“The guy must have been—what was the word you used?—coercing her.”
“But how?” I ask.
“That’s the question. But what we do know is that if she’s anywhere, it’s around here. The guy in the hat is local and the last Instagram post was in the Stanley market. If we’re going to find her this is where we have to start looking.”
He’s right.
We lapse into silence.
As we enter the tunnel under the Hong Kong harbour, he asks, “Was your girlfriend OK with you working this evening?”
“Yes. She wanted to get a start on the article she’s writing and I promised I would take her out for dinner tomorrow night and take her to a nightclub. You said the Golden Dragon was a reputable place so I thought I’d take her there. It would also give me a chance to talk to Leo; he’s one of the owners. Zelena and Harvey used to go there, maybe he can tell me something useful.”
“Maybe.” He doesn’t sound hopeful. “Anyway, while you’re having fun with your girlfriend tomorrow evening, I’ll come back here and see if our mystery man comes in.”
When we get to the hotel, a doorman opens the car door for me and I get out. I check my watch. Eleven-thirty. Hopefully Tina will still be awake. But I just need to make one phone call first. I pull out my phone and see there’s another email from Simon Fraser University, repeating the offer.
I’ll have to talk to Tina about it. But first that phone call.
15
Adry
Nick is worried. We’ve had four clients bail on us and one of them was an airline which has given us ongoing business ever since he and Cal started the business. I wonder if he’s worried about having to lay me off. I’m certainly worried about it. I can’t afford to be laid off. I’ll have to get a new job somewhere else and I’d hate that. I love working here. I can feel a prickling in my eyes. It’s twenty-four hours since that piece in the Sun. Maybe it’s all going to die down now.
“Cal’s on line one,” Lucy calls from reception.
He must be up late. It’s around midnight in Hong Kong.
Nick puts the call on speaker.
“What’s up, Rogan,” he grunts.
“Hi Cal,” I add in the cheeriest voice I can manage.
“I’m working with a local PI, the one Aleksander hired. We’re pretty sure she’s in the Stanley district of Hong Kong.” He updates us on all he’s been doing and sounds pretty positive. “Adry, did you get a chance to speak to Zelena’s friend Steph? I’d like to know if she’s had any communication with Zelena other than via Instagram.”
“No, sorry,” I say. “I’ll talk to her today.”
“Thanks. So… what’s the status of the scam?”
“Not good,” Nick says. “We’ve lost four clients and we spent a good part of yesterday trying to track down the guy who called himself Connor McCoy. We came up with a big fat goose egg. Hopefully it’ll all die down and we won’t lose any more.” Nick shrugs. He really looks beaten down by this whole thing.
I put on my happy voice. “While we’ve got you on the phone Cal, why don’t we do 'morning prayers?’”
This seems to perk Nick up, or is that just me being hopeful?
After we’ve reviewed all our cases, I pick up my office phone and dial Zelena’s friend, Steph.
“Hello Mr. Rogan.” Caller ID has let her down this time. There is a coyness in her voice. Either she’s got a big old crush on Cal or she’s trying to manipulate the hell out of him. Either way, she’s not going to want to talk to me rather than him. But I can use that.
“Hi, Ms. White,” I say brightly. “This is Adry Locke from Stammo Rogan Investigations. Mr. Rogan wanted me to make an appointment with you for later today.”
“Oh, yes.” The sexy tone has gone from her voice. “I’ll be free at lunchtime. I could meet him in the bar at the Hotel Van at twelve.”
“That’s perfect. Thank you very much for being so cooperative.”
We hang up just as Lucy comes into the main office. “Dad,” she says to Nick, “there’s someone on line one. She says she’s a client and would really like to talk to you. She says it’s urgent.”
“Oh Jeez,” Nick says. “Another cancellation.” He takes in a big breath. “OK. I’ll take it.” The words come out as a sigh. Grim-faced, he picks up the phone. “This is Nick Stammo,” he says. He listens, nodding his head. Then a strange look comes into his eyes. “Really?” he says. As he listens more, the look changes. It’s like a weight is being lifted from his shoulders. He has a big grin on his face. But it’s more than just a grin, he looks like a wolf with a lamb in his sights. “Can you come into the office?” he asks. He nods his head as the caller talks. “Great,” he says, “I’ll see you at one this afternoon.”
His grin widens.
“Gotcha!” he says.
“Who was that?” I ask.
The grin gets even wider. “You’ll see.”
I wouldn’t want to be that lamb right now.
“Hello Ms. White, I’m Adry Locke.” She looks up and frowns. “From Stammo Rogan Investigations,” I add.
“Oh, yes, of course,” she says. “I thought my appointment was with Cal.” She doesn’t seem disappointed that I’m not him, so the sexy voice on the phone wasn’t because she has a crush on him. But does it mean she wants to manipulate him? We’ll see.
“No,” I say. “He’s in Hong Kong trying to track down Zelena. He asked me to meet with you. I’m so sorry I wasn’t clearer on the phone.”
“No problem, how can I help? Call me Steph, by the way.” If anything she seems relieved it’s not Cal. Curiouser and curiouser.
“I assume you’ve seen
the Instagram posts Zelena has been making?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“You sound like you don’t approve.”
“Well, Zel’s a friend, she’s like my best friend, but I think she has been really unfair to poor Harvey. He paid for all of us to go on that trip and then she just ditches him for another guy. That is like so harsh.”
“It is,” I say. “Harvey must be devastated.”
She softens. “He was. But at least he sees Zel for what she really is. She’s a good friend but I have to say, she’s a rotten girlfriend.”
“Harvey sounds like a good guy,” I say.
“Oh, he is. He’s really great.”
“You really like him don’t you?”
She looks at me for a second or two. “Yes, I do.”
“How do you feel about him going over to Hong Kong to help find her?”
“Oh, he’s mainly going for business reasons but he said while he’s there he would see if there’s anything he can do to help find her or her brother. Even though she hurt him, he still wants to help.”
“If I had to guess,” I say gently. “I would say you’re in love with him.”
She smiles. “Yes but don’t tell anyone. We want to keep it on the down-low for a while.” She pauses. “When that first Instagram post came out, he was so upset. I went over to his place to like help him and we kind of hit it off. We want to keep it quiet because it’s so soon after Zel dumped him and he didn’t want to seem like he had just, you know, dated me to show her. He told me he already had feelings for me even when he was seeing Zel. He hated having Chad there. So did I.”
“No one will hear anything from me,” I assure her. I am such a liar. “Apart from the Instagram posts, have you heard from Zelena? Has she texted or anything?”
“Yes. She’s sent me a couple of texts. They were odd.”
“How do you mean odd?” I ask.
“Zel’s always enthusiastic about everything. She just seems to be, I dunno, down.”
“Would you mind showing me the texts?”
She pulls her phone out of a purse, which must have cost her the equivalent of two weeks of my salary, taps it and hands it to me.
I scroll up to see some previous messages, just to get an idea of Zelena’s style. Then I scroll back down to the last two messages. I see what Steph means. The words are stilted. The first one is an apology for leaving; it reads, 'So sorry for leaving like that, don’t blame my new man.’ It certainly lacks her usual flair. Then one of them catches my eye. It says, 'I am so enjoying my new life here in honkers. Hope everything looks perfect.’
“That one looks odd,” I say.
“You mean 'honkers,’” she smiles. “That was Zel’s nickname for Hong Kong.”
That’s not what’s odd. The first sentence is obviously Zelena’s but the second sentence is like someone wrote it for her, someone who doesn’t speak English very well. I read it again.
Holy crap.
Without asking permission, I switch to Instagram and go to her latest post. Holy crap squared. I was right.
My hands trembling with excitement, I switch back to messages. This time I ask for permission. “Would it be OK if I sent Zelena a text from your phone?”
“Sure,” she says.
I think about it carefully. I need to word it just right. I start typing. 'I understand how everything looks perfect. btw matt standing says hi and watch out for his posts.’ I say a silent prayer and hit Send.
I hand her back the phone. She looks at the text and frowns. “I don’t get it,” she says.
A part of me wants to tell her we think Zelena is still being held captive, but I remember what Nick said. I just say, “Don’t worry, Zelena will.”
She looks even more puzzled. “You made a mistake. You got his name wrong. Our friend Matt’s last name is Standish, not Standing.”
“I know.”
I hate the woman I’m sharing the elevator with. No one has the right to look so beautiful yet be so nice.
“It’s so good to see you again Adry,” she says.
Damn. She even remembered my name. “Nice to see you too Ms. Summers.” I say awkwardly.
“Please, call me Marly,” she says.
We do the Canadian thing—talk about the weather—as we head down the corridor to the office. She gets there half a step ahead of me and opens the door for me.
Nick hears me introduce our former client to Lucy and wheels into reception. He smiles and extends his hand. If I didn’t know he was gay, I would think he had a crush on her.
I lead the way to the conference room and hold the door open for them both, then run back to get my laptop. I am bursting to tell Nick what I just learned from Steph White but it will just have to wait.
When I walk into the conference room they are, you guessed it, talking about the weather, but as soon as I sit down, she gets straight to business. “Someone is trying to ruin me financially,” she says.
I think back to her case. It was the first case we had after I joined the firm as Office Manager. Her husband, Dale, who was from a super-rich family was murdered. Cal and Nick suspected her at first.
“After Dale’s death, his brother, who administers their family trust, offered me a cash settlement of seven and a half million dollars. I probably could have got more but I didn’t want the hassle of a law suit, so I agreed. I signed the documents and they wrote me a cheque. I invested the money conservatively and got on with my life. I now work for a non-profit helping indigent teenagers get off the streets and helping them turn their lives around.”
Wow! Beautiful, nice, rich and a thoroughly good person. Now I really hate her.
“Two months ago,” she continues, “I got a call from the Royal Bank in Toronto. They said I owe them five million dollars.”
“Let me guess,” Nick says. “They say they lent you the money and you haven’t made any payments on the loan.”
She frowns. “That’s right. I told them it wasn’t me who had taken out the loan but they said they had all my information including my signature on the documents. When I told them I haven’t been in Toronto in the last ten years, they said they had video footage of me, taken in their offices. They also said their loan officers had seen recent pictures of me and swore I was the person who took out the loan. I told them it wasn’t me but they won’t listen and have put a lien on my investments, awaiting a court date. My boyfriend is a computer specialist and he did something on the dark web and found my financial details out there. I just don’t know what to do. Do you think you can help?”
Nick gives his wolf-lamb smile. If I didn’t know him, I’d find it scary as hell. “Yes, I think we can help,” he says. “You see, I know who’s scamming you.”
She frowns. “How can you possibly know that?”
“Funny you should ask,” Nick says. “Someone is trying to ruin us financially too.”
“Who?” she asks.
“It’s just too much of a coincidence. I’m guessing it’s the same person who is trying to ruin you. The only person who hates you and hates us too.”
She gasps. “Bob Pridmore?”
When she says his name an image of him pops into my mind: six foot six inches, built like a line backer, cruel face and the slimiest lawyer in town.
“He’s the only one I can think of,” Nick says.
“If it is Bob, what are we going to do?”
“You remember how we got him out of your life before?” he asks.
“Yes,” she says awkwardly.
“We could remind him of the threat to send the video to the Law Society. He wouldn’t want to risk disbarment.”
“We could…” she leaves it hanging.
“OK,” says Nick. “Why don’t I give Big Bob a call?ˮ
“Wait a minute Nick,” I interrupt. I remember the video of Marly with Pridmore and I can sense her discomfort. “How do you feel about it Marly?” I ask.
“Not good,” she says. “There was some pretty explicit stuff
in the video. Sure, we could use it against him but if Bob got hold of it, he could also use it against me. The charity I work for now wouldn’t be impressed if they got to see it. In fact, I would feel a whole lot better if you just deleted any copies you have of it.”
“She’s right Nick,” I say. “Besides, we can’t be a hundred percent sure it is Pridmore.”
“I suppose,” he says. “But maybe just the threat would make him back off.”
“That doesn’t help Marly,” I say. “He’s hardly going to go to the Royal Bank and say he fraudulently took out a loan in her name.”
“You’re right,” he agrees. “And it doesn’t help us either. He’s not going to go to VPD and tell them he and his sidekick planted drugs on us.” He mulls it over for a while. “I don’t usually believe in coincidences, but in this case, maybe we should consider whether the scams being perpetrated on us are in fact connected.”
We sit in silence for a moment until Marly says, “If it is someone who has got my financial details from the dark web, there’s nothing I can do is there?”
“Oh yes there is,” Nick says. “No one arranges a five million dollar loan over the internet or by phone. The bank told you they have your signature on the documents. This gives us two lines of investigation. One: you can get copies of the signed documents and have a hand-writing expert verify that the signature is not yours. And two: the bank has video of the person who came in to sign those documents. If we can get our hands on that video, we can prove it’s not you.”
Marly gives a big beam. “Thank you so much.” She gets up from the table and leans over to give Nick a big hug, which makes me hate her a lot less. “But how are you going to deal with your problem?” she asks.
Nick looks at her.
“Damned if I know,” he says.
“Me neither,” I add.
We may be able to help Marly with her problem but Stammo Rogan Investigations may still be screwed.
As soon as Nick has given Marly’s big, fat retainer cheque to Lucy, I drag him into the main office. “Nick you are never going to believe this.” The words bubble out of me. “Zelena sent a message. We can communicate with her. We can find out where she is and get her back. Cal can get the police to rescue her. It’s so simple but I would never have—”
Cal Rogan Mysteries, Books 4, 5 & 6 (Box Set) Page 58