Cal Rogan Mysteries, Books 4, 5 & 6 (Box Set)

by Robert P. French

  “Not my style,” I say. I look at the vast display and see some watches that may be more to my taste. I point. “What about tho—ˮ My jaw drops. While the owner continues to extoll his wares, I pull out my phone and open Instagram. I scroll to the first post, the one with Zelena and the man in the hat. Behind them is a stall full of watches. I move to the approximate position from which the camera must have taken the shot. It’s the same stall. On the right side of the picture, I can see suitcases. I look to the right. Sure enough there’s a stall selling suitcases. This is where the picture was taken.

  “How about these?” the stall owner asks.

  “Sure,” I say. “How much is that one?”

  “Two hundred eighty.”

  I take three hundred out of my wallet and hand it over.

  He takes it with a look of amazement and I realize I should have bargained him down. I hope I haven’t committed some form of faux pas by not haggling over the price. As he gives me my change, I turn my camera around and show him the picture. “Do you remember this girl?” I ask.

  He peers at the picture, starts to smile and then his face shuts down. He looks at me, eyes blank. “No. Never seen her.” Why the hell is he lying?

  I take out a five-hundred-dollar bill and hold it out. “Just look again, please.” I hold out my phone in the other hand.

  He ignores both and just shakes his head. This time, I see fear in his eyes.

  “Listen,” I say gently. “This girl is in a lot of trouble. I’m trying to find her so I can take her home to her parents. Can you please help me?”

  “Sorry. Don’t know her.” He grabs a watch and moves towards another potential customer. “Very fine watches,” he says. “Look at this one. Perfect for you.” The man starts bargaining with him.

  I feel Tina’s arm slipping around mine. “What did you buy?” she asks. I show her the watch. “Nice. How much did you bargain him down?”

  “I didn’t.”

  While she gives me a tutorial on market haggling, I watch the owner of the stall out of the corner of my eye. He completes his sale and, with what is clearly a terrified glance in my direction, he disappears behind his stall. I have done enough interrogations to know he knows something and there’s no way he’s going to tell me what it is. Reluctantly, I put my arm around Tina and move away from his stall, wondering if there’s any way to unlock what’s in his mind.

  The Golden Dragon is everything the IF isn’t. It’s cool and sophisticated and if there is a bouncer, he is not obviously in evidence. The music is loud but not deafening and it is early enough that there are still seats available at the bar. A smiling cocktail waitress brings us huge menus with seemingly every drink known to mankind listed in Chinese and English. Even the cheapest drinks are eighty-eight Hong Kong dollars which, at about fifteen bucks Canadian, is a hell of a price to pay for a beer.

  From what little I know of Zelena, I can see why she liked this place. It’s fun, friendly, noisy, and the tiny dance floor is packed with smiling glitterati. It even makes me want to get up and dance and I’m betting that if I don’t ask Tina to, she’s going to ask me.

  But this is the last place where Zelena was before she went back to the hotel with Steph and then disappeared. I’m hoping Leo, the owner who’s friends with Harvey, will be able to tell me something, anything that might help me find her.

  We order and when she brings our drinks, I say to the cocktail waitress, “I’d like to speak to Leo, the owner. I’m a friend of his friend Harvey.”

  A flicker of a frown crosses her face, which quickly reverts to a broad smile. “I’m sorry sir, Leo isn’t here tonight.”

  Damn. “Will he be back tomorrow?” I ask.

  “No sir, he’s on vacation. I’m not sure when he’ll be back,” she says.

  I think back to my conversation with Harvey in the Red Sugar bar at the hotel. He said Leo was here every night. Come to think of it, when I spoke with Steph at the Starbucks on Robson, she said the same thing. I look the waitress directly in the eye. “Are you sure?” I ask.

  “Yes sir,” she says… but she’s lying. “He won’t be back for a long while.” For an instant, her eyes flicker across the room and I follow her gaze. Sitting on a couch, wearing an expensive suit and holding a glass of what looks like Coke, is a well-muscled guy with a serious expression, completely out of sync with the ethos of the club. He is the bouncer. His eyes lock mine and he gives the smallest shake of his head.

  I’ve been warned off.

  The waitress moves away to serve another customer.

  “What was that all about?” Tina asks.

  “I’m not sure. Zelena came here the night she disappeared and I wanted to ask the owner if he noticed anything out of the ordinary. But now it seems he’s disappeared too.”

  “Well…” she says, a serious look on her face. “That only leaves one thing for you to do.”

  “What’s that?”

  She grins. “Dance with me.”

  As we leave the Golden Dragon, Tina has a fit of the giggles. Her enthusiasm has made me forget about missing people and whoever is trying to scam Stammo Rogan Investigations and just enjoy the moment. My legs ache from dancing and my jaw hurts from grinning. She is clutching the bags containing all the purchases she made in the market and I have my arm tight around her, not just because I like it but also to help steer her on a steady path. She kisses my cheek and breathes, “I love you,” in my ear sending a tingle the length of my spine.

  “I love you too.”

  We are on a quiet side street—quiet by Hong Kong standards anyway—so I lead her towards Nathan Road, where we are sure to find one of the ubiquitous red taxis.

  Sure enough, when we are half a block away, a cab turns off Nathan and comes towards us. I flag him down and hold open the back door for Tina to get in.

  “Thank you kind sir,” she says as she puts her many bags into the back seat.

  Three things happen in quick succession.

  Tina tries to step forward to get into the cab but sways unsteadily and lurches backward.

  An “Oooof” sound explodes from her lips.

  A man bounces off her and into me and pushes me into the side of the cab.

  As I gain my equilibrium, I see the man running away towards Nathan Road. For a second, I think to follow him but he has too much of a start and I know that once he turns the corner, he’ll disappear into the throng on Hong Kong’s busiest street.

  “Rude bastard,” I say. “Are you OK?”

  Tina doesn’t answer. Instead she collapses at my feet, a stain of red spreading over her white dress.

  18

  Zelena

  The last one was really bad. He made me fight back hard. I hurt my hand punching him and he punched me back when he finally held me down and raped me. I’m hoping it leaves a bruise. The last time one of the customers from the star room bruised me they gave me the next night off. Then I had to wear heavy makeup for a couple of days while it healed.

  But at least the day wasn’t bad today. They took me out in the van. We went about half an hour away from here. I think it was near where the Stanley Market is. They brought along a whole bunch of outfits and made me change into a different one for each set of pictures. Just for a moment, I could enjoy being in the open air. At one point, I saw a policeman. I so wanted to run to him and ask for help but if I did, they would punish Zander, probably kill him. And I don’t know where they’re holding us. It’s my fault he’s here.

  I hear footsteps. They’re his. I have learned to recognize the different people’s footsteps as they come up the stairs.

  He unbolts the door and walks in.

  He hands me the phone.

  “Text friends. Say having good time. Post Instagram with first pictures in green dress.”

  He stands over me so he can see what I write.

  I go to text Steph and feel my whole spine catch on fire. 'I understand how everything looks perfect.’ OMG, she got it. I try to look calm and
stop my hands from trembling. I text back. 'Thanks for understanding.’ I look at her message again. She got Matt’s name wrong. It’s Standish, not Standing. I go to Matt’s texts. There’s nothing recent. Just to be safe, I text, “having a great time in honkers. miss you guys in vancouver. having enough luscious pizza?’

  “What that about pizza?” he says over my shoulder.

  I clear my throat to give me time to try and calm down. I say the first thing that comes into my head. “That’s my friend Matt. Just about all he eats is pizza. Everyone jokes about it.”

  He just grunts.

  I got away with it but I have to be careful.

  I switch to Instagram and look at my last posts. There are lots of likes and comments. There’s one from Matt. But it’s Matt Standing. 'Looks cool. Where are you staying in Stanley?’ I can feel my heart in my chest. Someone’s trying to communicate with me. They want me to tell them where I am. But I don’t know. Except once, we have always gone in a van with no windows in the back. To give me time to think, I do as I was asked and make posts with the first two pictures they took today. It breaks my heart to make lighthearted posts about having a good time. But it gives me an idea.

  I go back to the Stanley market post. I reply to a few of the comments and then get to Matt’s. I reply, 'That’s for me to know and you to guess. Or the other way around.’ I add a googly-eyes emoticon and press send.

  “OK, that’s enough,” he says and snatches my phone away.

  Without a word, he leaves the room.

  I hear the refrigeration unit start in the next room.

  The client must have complained.

  Another cold night.

  19

  Nick

  I haven’t been here in a dog’s age. I think the last time was years back when Rogan and me were still in the VPD, before he got hooked. It hasn’t changed in the last ten years, probably not in the last fifty. We sit down across the table from Rogan’s two buddies, Ghost and Tommy.

  “Thanks for meeting us at the Ovaltine, Mr. Stammo,” Ghost says.

  “You didn’t give us much choice.”

  He chuckles. “Yeah, well Rocky always treats us to breakfast when we do some work for him.”

  “Who?” Adry asks.

  “Rogan’s street name,” I tell her. “From when he was a junkie, living on the streets.”

  I take Ghost’s hint and call the waiter over. They order. I’m tempted to order too. I’m betting the breakfast here is as good as ever.

  “So did you find out where the owner of the Prius lives?” I ask.

  “Course we did,” he says with pride and his buddy Tommy gives us a big toothless grin and nods.

  I stare at him for a moment and he cocks his head to one side.

  I get it.

  “OK,” I say and take out the two hundred bucks in twenties that I promised them on the phone yesterday. I hand it over. It gets split between them and disappears into their pockets. Ghost pulls out a piece of paper and hands it over.

  “I wrote it down so’s I wouldn’t forget it,” he says.

  It’s an address.

  “You’re sure about this?” I ask. They both nod. “Well done guys. You did good.” I take out an extra four twenties and hand them over. “That’s a bit of a bonus for staying up all night to keep your eyes on the Prius until he came out and used it this morning.”

  The bonus disappears into their pockets… then they look at each other and burst into laughter.

  “What?” I ask. This only makes them laugh more. Adry joins in and I can’t keep a straight face either.

  Tommy is the first to get it together. “Thanks for the extra Mr. Stammo,” he says, wiping his eyes with the back of a dirty hand, “but we didn’t stay out all night. Right after your call, we walked to Strathcona and found the car. Ghost went and hid and I sat on the hood of that Prius and bounced up and down a couple of times until the alarm went off. In no time flat, the guy comes out of his apartment to chase me off and Ghost went and wrote down the address. Easy peasy. Then we went and had a beer.”

  They may be a couple of homeless alcoholics but they’re definitely not stupid.

  Now I see why Rogan likes to hire them.

  “Hello Roland,” I say. “Can we come in?”

  Before he can get over his amazement at seeing us, Adry pushes past him into his apartment and I wheel after her.

  “What the fuck d’ya think you’re doing?” he asks.

  “Sit down, Roland,” Adry says and takes a step towards him. It’s a side of her I’ve never seen before.

  He points a finger right at her face. “Fuck off bit—ˮ His words are cut off with a yelp. She’s grabbed his hand and twisted it somehow and pushed him backwards until he flops down in his chair.

  She turns to me and sees the stunned look on my face. “Krav Maga,” she says. I don’t know what it means but I’ll definitely ask her later.

  I wheel closer to him. “Who put you up to this Roland?” I say.

  He rubs his hand. “How do you know my name?” he asks sullenly.

  “Because like most small-time criminals, you’re stupid. You came to scam us using the name Connor McCoy because you knew there was a real Connor McCoy who did own a real computer company. But you were also scamming Marly Summers and you used the same name with her. I couldn’t work out who would be so lazy as to use the same name for two marks who knew each other. And then it clicked. I figured you stuck with the name because you must have a connection with the real Connor McCoy. So Adry here emailed him the picture of you that Marly gave us. Connor told us you were his lame-assed brother Roland who was a bit actor trying to make it big in Hollywood North. It’s funny you don’t look alike. If you had we’d have spotted it a lot sooner.”

  Even more sullenly he grunts, “How did you find me? Connor doesn’t even know where I live.”

  “That’s for me to know and you to guess. The question is… who put you up to this?”

  “No one. It was my idea.”

  “Come on Roland. You’re too stupid to scam Marly Summers out of five million bucks.”

  His eyes go wide. “What did you say?”

  I can’t keep the grin off my face. “You didn’t know, did you?”

  “Know what?”

  I take a guess. “He told you to look around Marly’s house and find out things like her bank account details, Social Insurance Number, driver’s licence number, email password and anything else you could get your dirty little hands on. What he didn’t tell you is he used that information to steal five million bucks from her.”

  “Son of a—ˮ Stupid bastard can’t find the words.

  I let it all sink in for about fifteen seconds. The only thing to break the silence is the ping of Adry’s phone.

  “He scammed you too, didn’t he?”

  He just nods.

  “Who was it, Roland?”

  When he says the name, it’s my turn to be stunned.

  Because it’s not Bob Pridmore.

  “I didn’t expect to see you in the office on a Saturday Luce,” I say as she puts coffee and cookies on my desk.

  “I had some filing and stuff to do and I knew you guys would be in anyway. What did you find out?”

  “We found out it’s not Bob Prid—ˮ

  “YES!!” Adry’s yell cuts me off. “Zelena replied to 'Matt Standing.’”

  “What did she say?”

  “Huh,” she says. “That’s funny. It was the same thing you said to Roland. Her reply to the question 'Where are you staying in Stanley?’ is 'That’s for me to know and you to guess. Or the other way around.’” She thinks it over. “It’s the sort of thing Zelena would say to tease someone,” she adds.

  “Yes, but if you read it the other way round, it would say 'That’s for you to know and me to guess.’ She’s telling us she doesn’t know where she’s being held but wants us to figure it out.”

  “Good one Dad,” Lucy says.

  “Good one Zelena, you mean. Sh
e’s bright.”

  “Right,” Adry says. “But it’s easier said than done. She’s got to give us some sort of a clue.” She thinks some more. “How about I message her something like 'Stanley sounds great. What do you like best about it?’ Maybe she can tell us what she sees out of a window or maybe a sound she hears, like a church bell or traffic or something.”

  “No,” I say. “Too risky. She’s obviously being watched while she uses Instagram. They would spot if she tried to give us some sort of clue.” We slip into silence. We’ve got to come up with something. I start nibbling on a second cookie. If she’s being kept somewhere and they are just taking her out to take photos she can post on Instagram, maybe she can tell us about something she sees in transit. “Maybe we could message her something like—ˮ

  My phone rings. Rogan.

  “Perfect timing,” I say. “What time is it there?”

  “Just after one in the morning.”

  “You’re up late. Did you see Zelena’s Instagram post? We’re trying to think out what to reply. I was thinking—ˮ

  “Listen Nick, I’m in the hospital.”

  Oh my God, what’s he done now? “Holy shit, are you OK?”

  “I’m fine but Tina’s been stabbed.”

  A chill cuts through me. I remember what it’s like to be stabbed. “Was it anything to do with those protesters she went to interview? I thought it was risky, I was saying to Adry—ˮ

  “No, it wasn’t. I think it was me who was the target.”

  “Oh crap. Is she OK?” He’s silent. Jeez. I think I know what he’s going to say next.

  “No.”

  I knew it.

  “Oh, Cal…”

  “She’s lost a lot of blood, but she’s hanging in there. The doctors are fairly close-lipped about the prognosis. I don’t know, but that doesn’t seem too good to me.”

  “Is there anything we can do?”

  “No. I’ll call you when I know more. I’ve got to call her parents too. I have no idea what to say to them. What time is it there?”