Taking her hand away from mine and stiffening in her chair, Sue cut me off, “I need you to support me on this, Phil. I want you to admit what you felt, saw and heard. You don’t have to change your opinion about anything. As a matter of fact, it would be good to have you as a balance, to make sure we’re not overlooking other possibilities.”
I nodded.
Sue seemed to relax a little. She smiled, put her hand back on mine, and squeezed gently. “Thank you.”
“Okay then, I’ll come after my shift tomorrow. As long as I can get away that is.”
I took my hand away from hers, slipped it under her housecoat and stroked her knee.
She leaned her head on my shoulder. “Phil...you’re a sweetie... But look, I’m going to open up about all of this when they come. There are other things that have happened. Things that you all need to know about to help me figure this out.”
“Well, I’m here now. I’d like to talk about it now. Tell me about these things.”
“No. You’ll hear it all tomorrow. I need you all to hear it together. If I tell you first, your reaction might change the way I tell it to Charles and Gloria.”
“What are you talking about, Sue?”
“Some of what I say may really bother you.” She lifted her head from my shoulder and looked at me.
“I’m a big boy, Sue...”
She put a finger across my lips to shut me up.
“Yes, you are. Let’s go back to bed.”
Chapter 19
I left Sue’s place before sunrise, parked the bike at the Stoney Creek police station, walked up to a coffee shop in the village, and called the motel from a pay phone. Two guys from our unit arrived in separate cars. I took one of the cars and beat the rush across the Burlington Skyway onto the Queen Elizabeth Highway. I arrived at “O” Division by seven o’clock and was at my desk before anyone else arrived.
Before tackling a full tray of supplementary reports, I looked through the notes on my message spike. Nothing urgent. Paperwork frustrates me, especially the kind of paperwork that accumulates around organized crime investigations. I try to keep on top of my in-tray, but lately, I’d only been getting into the office once or twice a week. That meant when I was there, I had to spend thirty minutes or so going through the backlog. Today, there were fifteen reports. I initialled thirteen that required no immediate action and dropped them into my Reviewed tray. But two reports got my attention.
One was the initial report on the audit of Nathan’s books. It showed several large infusions of cash into the business that were identified as questionable. Further details would follow, but the initial opinion of the auditor and a forensic accountant was that loan-sharking was a possible source of the infusions. If the convoluted paper trail pointed towards Lustre Investments, that would confirm what we’d heard on the Sure Clean tape. At this point, that was enough. We had a path we could go down if and when it became necessary. For example, to corroborate other evidence, or if the FAM tape was ruled inadmissible. Some RCMP Commercial Crime members were putting the finishing touches on their audit and would keep us posted.
Another report had been forwarded from the Hamilton PD to Metro Intelligence, and found its way to me. It wasn’t marked urgent, but it only took one quick read through for me to know that it was worth following up.
A Hamilton motorcycle cop had pulled over a shit-box station wagon. It was being driven by a local rounder with a long sheet. The cop had called for backup and they did a thorough search of the vehicle. They found an 8 x11 envelope that was stuffed with blank Ontario driver’s licenses. The licenses were forgeries.
After all the charges had been laid, the driver of the wagon, a kid named Ronnie Spadafore, started scrambling for a break on his sentencing. Because of his sheet, he knew that he could be looking at serious time. He dropped the name of a Hamilton detective, saying he might want to talk, but only to that Detective.
Detective Roy Jacobs was the author of the supplementary report, and was the cop that Spadafore wanted to talk to. Jacobs interviewed Spadafore for two hours. He got the story on the kid’s involvement in distributing counterfeit licenses. For a consideration, Spadafore also named his supplier. Jacobs promised Spadafore that if he provided a signed statement, Jacobs would talk with the investigators and the Crown Attorney on his behalf regarding sentencing. A copy of Spadafore’s statement was included with the report. I skimmed through the statement details and turned my attention to the report.
Spadafore had identified Danny Kotch, a well-known petty thief and forger, as the guy who produced the licenses. Kotch kept some at his house, but he had Spadafore look after the bulk of them. Search warrants had been executed at both of their places. A lot more envelopes containing forged licenses and automobile ownerships were seized. Kotch was nowhere to be found. The landlord hadn’t seen him for days, and all the usual hangouts had turned up nothing.
Jacobs had included other main points about that interview on the supplementary report, and because there was an out-of-town element to what Spadafore disclosed, he forwarded a copy to Metro Intelligence. There was one line that a sharp Metro Analyst had seen, highlighted, and noted for my attention.
Spadafore stated that Danny Kotch was scared. The guy who worried him was from Montreal, and had asked Kotch to supply him with some phony driver’s licences and one forged passport. Kotch went to meet him with the order, and Spadafore hadn’t heard from him since. Kotch had been worried about making the delivery. He told Spadafore that if the guy didn’t like the order, he could be in huge trouble. Kotch may have feared for his life. One other detail on the report mentioned that the Montreal guy had heavy connections in Toronto. That’s the point that likely convinced Jacobs to forward a copy to Metro Intelligence.
Son of a bitch...this could be Marco. It sure ticked a few of the right boxes: the guy was from Montreal, was a brute, and needed phony identification. Safety deposit box visits always required identification. Stashes of stolen jewelry and diamonds were often kept in safety deposit boxes. That’s a good start.
I wanted to dig into this one. I picked up the phone and placed a call to Jacobs in Hamilton. He wasn’t in the office. I left a message for him with a Staff Sergeant, stuck a copy of the report in my case file, and headed west.
Chapter 20
Jacobs agreed to meet me at a diner on Barton Street. On the way, I called Ernie at the motel. I asked him to go to Hamilton Police Headquarters and to the Stoney Creek detachment and see what they had on the background of the dilapidated house and shack near Sue’s place. He was also going to find out as much as he could about any yahoos who hung around there. At least we’d be familiar with the history if it came into play. I knew there might be no connection with our investigation, but we couldn’t take any chances. Besides, having creeps like that so close to Sue made me nervous. Ernie was keen to get at it. With me being tied up with Jacobs, today was as good a day as any. I felt good knowing that Ernie was checking that place out. Whatever was going on up there, he would get the complete rundown.
In every city, there are a few diners and coffee shops that are frequented by cops. The Barton Street Diner was a favorite with the Hamilton force. It was a twenty-four-hour establishment. Uniformed cops regularly dropped by to pick up coffee, sandwiches, smokes, and prisoners’ meals. Plainclothesmen and detectives were often there for lunch breaks or meetings with other investigators, day and night. I’d been there several times over the years.
When I arrived, the lunch crowd had thinned out, but I saw three cops at a booth. I recognized Pat Gallo, a detective I’d been on course with at the Ontario Police College. He was with two plainclothesmen. Pat waved as soon as I walked in the door. I went to their booth.
He grinned, lowered his voice, and turned to the other two cops. “I told you guys a big-city detective was coming. Must be heavy doings that brought this guy to the Hammer.”
He held out his hand. I shook it. “Hey, Pat. Good to see you.”
He int
roduced me to the other two guys. They were both working under Pat on the East Hamilton vice detail. There was a carafe of coffee on the table and a couple of clean mugs. I filled one.
“I’m meeting a detective named Roy Jacobs. I got here a little early to see who else was hanging around. Never hurts to keep up the contacts, does it?”
“It doesn’t hurt a bit, my friend.” Pat paused, took a sip of coffee. “Jacobs isn’t here yet, he won’t be long. I’ll make the formals when he arrives. A good guy, knows the streets around here as well as anyone. A straight shooter.”
“Good to know.”
I was happy to see Gallo and to meet his associates, but I was curious. It seemed as if they were there to meet me as well. I didn’t ask why. I chatted with Pat and the other guys, and waited for Jacobs to explain.
He arrived, came right to the booth, shook my hand, sat next to Gallo, and loosened his tie. “Before we get into it, let me explain why these guys are here, Phil.”
“Fair enough,” I said.
Jacobs pulled a small envelope from his jacket pocket and laid it unopened on the table. “I know you want to find your guy in a hurry, and Kotch could be the key to finding him. Pat’s crew knows Kotch well. I thought they could help.”
I waited a few seconds for Jacobs to open the envelope. He didn’t. “Fill in some blanks for me here, Roy. Kotch is a counterfeiter, what’s the vice connection?”
“I’ll get to that. But first, there’s a lot happened since we talked. Our interest in Kotch is suddenly much bigger. We want him on the counterfeiting angle, but our Homicide Squad now thinks he’s connected to a recent killing...Very recent. A female.”
“Then why isn’t someone from Homicide here?” I asked.
Jacobs fiddled with the edge of the envelope. “The homicide is so recent they’re still at the scene. They’ve asked us to check the Kotch place out, ASAP. They didn’t say what the connection is to Kotch. I told them I was coming here to meet Gallo. They know we searched the house after the Spadafore arrest, but suggested we have another look through for anything recent that could be relevant. If we do, we’re to lock the house down for forensics. It sounds like they think the female was connected to the place. That’s the Kotch connection.”
“Did they say where the killing happened?” I asked.
“They found her up on the escarpment. I don’t know if she was killed there, or somewhere else and just dumped there.”
After a pause, Jacobs glanced at Gallo. “Pat, tell Phil about the vice charge you guys are working up on Kotch.”
Gallo took a deep breath, suddenly aware of his team’s involvement in a heavier investigation. “Well, we know Kotch is mixed up with bikers, and in procuring phony documents, but he’s also shown up on a few of our prostitution files. Not huge, but he scouts out tricks for some east end hookers.
“A local pimp has been throwing him finder’s fees. We’ve had crews watching Kotch’s house for a while. One of the girls has turned tricks there. We needed more traffic for a bawdy-house charge so we kept watching. But, it’s gone quiet.”
Pat probably expected me to ask a question, but I wanted to see where this was going, and sensed that Jacobs had a bigger question in that envelope. He pulled out a female’s mug shot, and laid it on the table.
“Was this one of the girls he scouted for?”
Pat slid the picture closer. “Yep, sure is. That’s Sugar Molinaro, also known as Tina. She’s the one that used his house. What’s happened, Roy?”
Jacobs pulled a search warrant from his pocket. “I’m getting there, Pat. Suddenly, this paper has a lot more teeth. We’d better have a quick look through the house without touching anything, and seal it up for forensics.
“Here’s what I know. Early this morning Sugar Molinaro’s body was found in a deep crevice up on the escarpment, weighed down with rocks. Climbers came across it.”
“We caught a bit of a break. Without climbers being up there, it could have been weeks, or months before she was found. There were fresh tire tracks and footprints nearby. The ident team is taking pictures and doing plaster work. It looks as if she was dropped in the crevice post-mortem.
“It took a while to retrieve the body. They’re doing a grid search over a large area looking for evidence.”
Pat Gallo shook his head. “Are they thinking Kotch on this? Christ, I don’t think he’s got the balls to snuff anyone. I’d be looking somewhere else.”
Jacobs held up both palms in agreement. “I doubt if Kotch is the suspect, and he probably disappeared before the hooker did. Homicide told us to go ahead and execute this search warrant.
“Remember, job one for Hamilton is the Molinaro case. So, we treat the house like a homicide scene, don’t disturb anything. We’ll have a look around for anything that could point to a killer, make thorough notes and protect the scene, just in case she was killed or abducted there.”
Jacobs held the document out. He wanted to drive home a point to Gallo and his men, and maybe to me. “Homicide really had to sell the JP on signing this, so until forensics arrives, keep your hands in your pockets. Just a look-see in case something jumps out and gives us a quick lead on the killer.”
Gallo and his guys shifted along the booth. They were ready to go. Jacobs looked at me. “You’re welcome to come along for the ride, Phil?”
“Thanks, I will.”
“Pat, you guys go ahead and watch the house from the street. I’ve got something to go over with Phil. We’ll join you in fifteen minutes.”
Jacobs waited until Pat and his crew had left the diner.
Roy Jacobs was a smart cop. He wanted to know if I could reveal anything about our file. But he knew if I did, I wouldn’t have wanted it shared with Pat Gallo and the others. This wasn’t for lack of trust. It was a timing issue. If too many cops go poking in the same direction too quickly, it shows the investigators’ cards. That complicates and compromises an investigation. He wanted to keep things tight for as long as possible. I really liked his style. Jacobs leaned back. “Whoever this fucker from Montreal is, Phil, he’s nasty.”
I nodded without comment. I was mulling over what to disclose. If I gave him too much information I’d push the limits of the need to know guidelines. Those guidelines applied to most major investigations, especially ones as large and expensive as the Zephyr project. But sharing too little might push away a good resource. An investigator like Roy Jacobs could be a difference-maker when it came to reducing the time it took to collar Marco. I had my own thoughts on the whereabouts of Kotch, and wanted to see if we were on the same wavelength.
“Where do you stand on the Molinaro killing, Roy? If Kotch didn’t have the stones or the inclination to do it, do you think he would be able to point you in the right direction?”
He took a moment before answering. “Not anymore, I think Kotch is tits-up somewhere. So, finding this jerk from Montreal quickly could close two Hamilton homicides and prevent a few more. I want Kotch’s body and any evidence on or near it found, fast.”
“Understood. I think we could help each other out.”
“This asshole has to come off the street, Phil. If we don’t grab him soon, the body count around here could go nuts.”
Bingo, Jacobs was a big-picture guy. I made a decision. I told him about the Stoney Creek angle and hinted that it was a slice of a much bigger pie. I also told him that for now, any information I gave him was for his ears only.
He nodded. “I just need some scraps here, Phil. Can you give me anything that will help me with any Hamilton files?”
“This guy, Marco Ranez flies under the radar,” I said. “But we know he’s around the Hammer. That’s why I jumped when I saw your report.”
“Any leads I can chase down?” he asked.
I had very little to give him at this point. I stared out the diner’s window. Jacobs just sat there, apparently content to let me ponder this question for as long as it took.
I wanted to give him something, anything, no m
atter how insignificant. Sue kept coming to mind. I thought about the conversations we’d had, and the things going on around her place. But other than the background information I had on Ranez, and the interest he’d shown in her property, I had nothing else.
To keep my file top of mind with Jacobs, I threw out a nonspecific reply. “Nothing just yet, but I’ve got a couple of things I want to check out, and one interview to do later. I’ll let you know as soon as I’m done.”
I had no interview lined up, at least not in the real sense...What the hell, I hated the way I was thinking, but I was getting desperate. The only risk I faced by exploring the option I had in mind was a little embarrassment...or maybe a lot. And knowing the way most cops think, it was probably the latter.
Jacobs stood up. “All right, Phil, let’s see how things are going at Kotch’s place.”
“I have to make a call first,” I said.
I went to the diner’s payphone and called Sue’s office at the university. The lady who answered said Sue was in a conference. I asked the lady to tell Sue that I would be at her house in time for the meeting with Charles and Gloria. She promised she would. My so-called interview was set.
Chapter 21
Marco had another car from the fly-by-night dealer. He parked it in the shadows near the back of a Hamilton factory’s parking lot. The factory was shut down, the lot empty. He walked along a street dominated by rundown industrial buildings and overgrown lots that had served as parking for the massive steel mills when they’d operated at full tilt. A light breeze came in off the lake. It did little to clear the night air. It hung heavily for many blocks around the steelyards.
He took shallow breaths. The irritants in the air and the pungent smell brought back bad memories of the Nova Scotian coal mine he’d worked as a teenager: the claustrophobic grip, and constant bouts of panic. He’d quit after a few months, unable to cope. Now, just the smell of the furnaces and the cloying air in this part of Hamilton made him uncomfortable.
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