“No. He paid cash at the desk. After that I didn’t see him.”
Britton glanced at me.
I leaned in and made eye contact with Courtice. “Tim, we need you to really take your time here. Tell us everything this guy did, from the time he came in the front door until he was in the steam room.”
“Like I said, he paid and I told him what room to use. Then he went to that room.”
“You took the money, so you connected with him a bit. Describe him to us.”
“Average height, looked fit...wore a baseball cap, some kind of company windbreaker, and jeans. He was carrying a little gym bag.” Courtice paused. “I’m trying to get his picture in my head. But I keep seeing Zip on the floor... Jesus, it was awful.” Courtice lowered his eyes. His hands shook. “Sorry.”
“It’s ok, Tim,” I said. “Describe this guy some more: hair color, complexion, scars, tattoos or other identifying features.”
“He needed a shave. Three day’s growth, at least. I didn’t see him with his hat off, but I think his hair was dark.”
“Why do you say that?”
“He was kind of swarthy and his whiskers were coming in dark.”
“Tell us everything he said to you.”
“The only time we talked was at the desk. Told me he was there for a steam and handed me the cash. Our prices are posted on the wall.”
“Tatts, scars, or distinguishing marks?”
“Didn’t see much except for his face...but there was something about his mouth. His teeth actually. One tooth was shiny, a metal cap or something.”
“A front or back tooth, Tim, upper or lower, which tooth?’
“I really didn’t pay that much attention. I just remember a glimmer. I think it was a gold cap.”
I looked at Britton and stood up. He told Tim Courtice he’d be right back and walked me to the door. We both stepped outside, grateful to breath in some fresh air.
“We’ll get an artist to do a composite, and I’ll send a copy to your office when it’s done,” he said. “I hope this helped.”
“It did. Thanks, Frank”
He shook his head. “I’ve been to a lot of homicides in my day, Phil. But this one’s as nasty as any of them. The guy that did this is one vicious bastard.
Chapter 4
Arturo Mello climbed into the front seat of a Blue Roof cab. He turned to the back seat. “Wait till we get where we're going, Vince. Then fill me in on what you and Paulo were talking about.”
He gave a wedge of twenty-dollar bills to the driver.
“Jimmy, take us to the parking garage at Toronto General. Park the cab in a corner on an empty level if you can find one. If not drive to the roof level, and leave us there. Go grab a bite somewhere, and pick up your cab after. We'll be gone in thirty minutes.”
Jimmy’s fat, tobacco stained fingers stuffed the bills into his shirt pocket.
“No problem...Thanks, Artie.”
They drove to the hospital. The roof level was the only one empty. Jimmy parked in the furthest corner from the ramp, took the keys from the ignition and rolled his obese body out of the cab. He shuffled off towards the elevator door.
Arturo lit a cigarette and turned to Vince.
“Alright. It was a long night and I've got stuff to do, so give me the story on that jeweler and what’s going down in New York.”
Vince repeated what he'd told Paulo at the office, but with more details.
“Can we get someone down there?”
“Don’t need to, Artie. The guy’s crossed the border into Quebec. I’ve talked to him and told him to get the hell out of there. He’s on a train in this morning. I’m hooking up with him later. I’ll get the rundown from him first, then we can figure things out. We’ve got no choice on this; we have to use him to get our cut on these deals. This will be a dirty collection, and Marco’s done heavy lifting before, mostly in Quebec and the states. He’s not quite as well-known around here.”
“Well, use your head, get him out of Toronto, quick. Don’t be seen together at the station or on the street. Take him on another train ride or something. Be careful at the station, they’re getting like airports; damned candid camera studios.”
“He said he’s setting up in Hamilton. I’ll make sure he’s heading that way. I can always work around any heat at the station, don’t worry about that shit.”
“Vince, listen to me. It’s better not to have to do that. Just take it easy. Float in and float out, find out what the hell's going on and tell him to get lost for a while. Then, get to a bank of phones at the other end of your train ride. Call me with the number, give me a time, and be back there fifteen minutes ahead of it to hold the box. I'll go out and use a booth somewhere up here. Once I know all the details, I'll tell you how to handle it.”
“I'll be back to you by dinner time.”
“And make sure someone watches him in the Hammer. From a distance, until we need to get closer. You got that, Vince?”
Vince nodded.
“And remember,” said Artie. “This could take a week or two to come together. Don’t be getting jumpy, we want to get our hands on it all. We’ll decide on how to deal with Marco, or whatever his name is, once we’ve secured the goods. Are you good with that?”
“Yeah, I’m good with it, Artie.”
“Stay on your toes. No screw ups. Don't ever use the same phone twice, and make sure this asshole stays out of trouble. No broads and no booze. And no casinos. We don’t need him digging himself another hole, or getting gabby over a piece of ass. You got it?”
“I got it, Boss.”
Chapter 5
Vince walked up University Avenue from the hospital, entered the subway system at Queen's Park, and took the first train to Union Station. At Union, he purchased one return west bound GO Train ticket to Oakville for himself, and a single one-way to Burlington, with a transfer for the bus ride to Hamilton from Burlington for Marco.
Vince had plenty of time. The Montreal train wasn’t due until just before noon. He walked through the pedestrian tunnel from the station to the shopping arcade below the Royal York Hotel, and went into a shoe shine shop. There were no customers. He tapped the proprietor on the shoulder.
“Get me that envelope, Manny.”
“Coming right up, Vince.”
Manny reached into the built-in storage box below the step up. A small, iron safe was anchored to the floor. He opened the combination lock and handed Vince a sealed envelope.
“Listen, I've got a few minutes, so buff up these puppies for me."
Vince set his feet onto the brass footrests and opened the envelope. He gave Manny a crisp fifty-dollar bill for minding it, plus ten bucks to cover the shine with tip. He tucked the envelope into the inside pocket of his suit and watched the old shine rag being snapped across his shoes.
BACK IN THE CONCOURSE level of Union Station, Vince waited by a news stand and watched passengers flow from the Montreal platform. Marco wasn’t among them.
Damn it, you can never count on this asshole to do things the way you ask.
A few minutes later, Vince spotted Marco sauntering through the main entrance from Front Street. He watched as Marco crossed the concourse. He had on a ball cap, showed several days of chin stubble, and wore blue jeans and a steelworker union windbreaker. He carried a cheap canvas grip. Vince relaxed a bit, and suppressed a grin.
Just an in-transit steel worker changing trains. Smart. The guy’s a damned chameleon.
Marco headed towards the news stand. Vince made brief eye contact and went to a thigh high stack of newspapers. He waited until Marco was about ten steps away and dropped the Hamilton GO tickets on top of the papers. Vince moved off the second Marco's fingers found the tickets. Walking with the flow of passengers, he got at least thirty paces ahead of Marco and stayed ahead. The other passengers dispersed to street exits or the ticket concourse.
He led Marco down the stairs to the commuter level and through the turnstiles to the west bound GO pl
atform. Vice boarded the third car by the far door. Marco boarded through the middle door, taking a seat three rows back, across the aisle from Vince. The car was empty. Most of the late morning commuters were inbound.
The train started moving. Marco crossed the aisle and sat next to Vince. “You got my expense money with you?”
“Why weren’t you on that train?”
“Got in early. Had things to do. And it turns out there was a worm I needed to squash.”
Vince shook his head. “Shit!” He leaned into Marco. “When we’ve got a meet, always let me know where you are, and what you’re doing. And squashing people brings heat. We don’t need fucking heat.”
“Alright. For Christ’s sake, is that my cash or not?”
“Yeah, plus some of your down stroke.”
“How much?”
“There's three thousand in here and another thousand for expenses. The three grand is your down payment for recovering the jeweler’s stashes, and for anything else you’ve got coming in.”
“I was expecting more, Vince.”
“When we get the merchandise, you’ll get more. Lots more. We’ve got people waiting for quality goods. The payoff will be sweet, so make sure you stay out of trouble and help us work this thing through.
“You give me all the info you have now. I’ll kick it around with the boys, then we’ll let you know what we need done. You just keep a really low profile until we talk again. Sound right?”
Marco lowered his voice to a whisper. “Yeah, but you tell the boys that they don’t know the half. I’ve got things happening in a few places. Product will be rolling in like you wouldn’t believe. The stuff that’s here waiting for me, including the jeweler’s shit, is a big enough haul, but the rest will take things to a whole new level.”
“Well, we’ve got screw all yet. And what I’ve brought you right there is way more than market for most jobs, Marco. Don’t forget, you still owe Artie and Gus big time for when they picked up your casino debts... I don’t want you to ever forget that...”
Marco shrugged and stared coldly at Vince.
Vince stiffened and returned the stare. “Are you hearing this, asshole?”
Marco didn’t answer. Stone faced, he maintained eye contact.
Vince’s voice mellowed, his approach changing. “There’s plenty here to go in your pocket and to cover expenses. If you need more, let us know. You’ll need to put some things in place. Get things done. That costs money, we know that. All you have to do is tell us why you need more. But you’ve got to keep clean. I mean squeaky clean. Once all the diggings been done and the inventories are squared away, you’ll have the biggest payday of your life. Are you smart enough to do what you need to, and stay out of any shit, Marco?”
Marco chuckled. The gold tooth gleamed. “Yeah Vince, I'm smart enough. Smart enough to know that what’s on the line here is bigger than anything any of you pricks have ever seen. And just to get the jeweler’s stuff, there’s some dirty work to be done. Work that’s right up my alley. The price will go up, just for the crap I need to do up here. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
They both sat for a moment, looking straight ahead.
Vince took a deep breath. “I’ve got the basics. Now give me some details. Don’t leave anything out. And fill me in about these other shipments coming in. I’ve got to keep Gus and Artie happy.”
Chapter 6 - Village of Stoney Creek, Hamilton, Ontario
My girlfriend Sue stirred in the car seat next to me, she’d been asleep for most of the ride. We’d been at a party, it hadn’t been a good night for me and I’d probably spoiled it for her. In fact, I knew I had. She was pissed, said I’d been antisocial. Actually, my mind had been somewhere else. I’d been thinking about Zip all night. I don’t usually waste time worrying about scumbags who get whacked, especially when I’m off the job. But Zip was just an unfortunate kid trying to find his way through a tough world. He got killed because of the information he’d given me - I had no doubt about that - and that truth was sitting heavy.
While I was nursing my second beer at the party, I’d resolved that from then on, I’d cultivate informants who’d scarcely be missed: lowlifes looking for reduced sentences, or who held grudges against other lowlifes. Zip hadn’t fit either of those categories. But, I’d found out that he would be missed. Not by family, because he had none, and not by those assholes on Wood Street. He’d be missed at the Crescent Moon. The manager really liked him. He watched out for the kid, so did most of the members, even the ones who were attracted to him. Nobody at the Crescent Moon would take advantage of Zip. They just liked having him around.
I’d wondered why he’d ever started giving me tips. I’d never given a damn about an informant’s motives before. A tip had always been just a tip, something to chase down. Sometimes they panned out, sometimes they didn’t, and sometimes the informant was deflecting suspicion away from himself. Most informants were jerks looking for a break, or trying to get an advantage over another jerk. No doubt, Zip was mad about Clifford and Shaky hanging on to his stuff, but there was more to it than that. Sitting at that party, off by myself and stewing about what I’d seen at the Crescent Moon, something occurred to me. The kid admired cops, probably wanted to be one, but knew that would never happen. So, when he saw, or heard about something heavy going down, he called me. Considered himself my ally. Shit...Why hadn’t I got a better read on what motivated him. Trying to help me was the worst choice Zip ever made. I was going to have to live with that. At the party, I was struggling. I felt like punching a hole in the wall.
I flicked on the high beams as I drove onto Ridge Road. The road skirted a guardrail above a deep crater in the escarpment. The crater was known as the Devil’s Punchbowl. The road was unlit, a plunge from its left shoulder would be straight down a two-hundred-foot wall of limestone and shale.
Sue shuddered. “That drop gives me the creeps.” Her hands moved off her lap and gripped the edge of the seat. She didn’t relax until we’d gone by the crater and her house was in view. She stifled a yawn. “Phil, are you staying over?”
“I wouldn't mind, but if you're still mad at me, maybe it wouldn’t be such a good idea.”
“I wasn't mad... I was letting you know what I thought. You were standoffish at the party tonight. You hardly talked... that's all. I wanted you to have a good time.”
“I felt a little out of place with that crowd.”
She didn’t pick up on my comment. Her hand touched my knee. “You know... I really would like you to stay the night. Are you?”
I was tired and not looking forward to the long drive back to my place. Besides, she looked fabulous and suddenly amorous. “Sure...why not? ...And in the morning, I'll see if I can fix that shutter on the porch window.” I turned into the driveway next to her white Victorian and veered towards the barn.
“Damn,” she said as she got out of the car. “I must have forgotten to put on the outside lights. We’ll have to watch our footing from here.” She starting moving away from the car.
I tapped her shoulder to keep her back. “That guy Charles. What’s the deal with him, Sue?”
I’d taken a dislike to Charles the moment I’d met him; saw him as a typical intellectual bully. I’d run into a couple of those in my brief time at university. He’d already known what I did for a living. Sue told me that most of her associates, especially the ones she worked with closely, knew she was seeing a cop. But, he’d made a point of asking what I did.
My reply had been blunt. “I’m a cop.”
Charles looked at me as if I’d walked in with crap on my shoes. “And, how did you meet Sue?”
“I’m a friend of a friend.” I walked away after that lie, found another beer, and flew under the radar for the rest of the night. I preferred it that way.
The party was behind us, and the little edge she had when we left it was gone. She smiled and answered my question.
“He’s a good friend. I like him a lot. He’s a professor o
f religious and philosophical studies, a writer. Why?”
“Does he have a thing for you?”
Sue looked amused. “No, he hasn’t got a thing for me, and I don't have one for him."
“If he’d looked any closer at your cleavage, his nose would have stuck.”
Her eyes sparkled in the darkness. The laugh she let out cut through the darkness. I had to smile as well.
“Well, what a crime buster you are,” she said. “Are you saying you've never peeked at a woman like that?”
I grinned and put my arm around her shoulder. My index finger slipped inside her dress near the shoulder strap. I left it there as we walked, enjoying the soft warmth of her skin.
“Well, I guess I have, from time to time. But I'm a cop, not a half-baked minister.”
Sue shook her head and sighed. She snuggled into me. “That’s for sure, Phil. No one will ever accuse you of being even slightly pious.”
“And what's going on with that girl Gloria? Now, she's a real piece of work,” I said.
“She's an interesting lady. And...you might be interested to know that she’s helped out a number of police departments with some very tricky investigations.”
“Oh, one of those. Well, I hope to hell I’m never desperate enough to call in a tea leave reader.”
“Your red neck is showing. And there are things that even the best of cops can’t see without help... Anyway, Gloria and Charles have had something going on for years. And, if you'd have engaged in the conversation more, you might have clued into that.”
Sue’s arm slid around my waist as she leaned her head onto my shoulder. Her voice softened to a whisper.
“Some of my friends are worried that I might be getting into a serious relationship too quickly after the disappointment of Nathan. You might be picking up that vibe.”
“Some of your lady friends, maybe. But Charles? I’m going to have to think about him. But I’m glad to hear we might be getting serious.” I nuzzled her neck and we stopped walking. I pulled her to me. We kissed. It was a hot, stimulating, open-mouthed kiss. Things heated up quickly.
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