He shook the feelings away.
Who needs to come to shit-hole places like this? Not me, not for long anyway. This is the perfect place to get rid of useless clutter. Soon I’ll be out of this dump of a town, and this country. For good...just a few more days.
He bumped his fists together as he walked. A tight smile crossed his face.
This is where I say goodbye to those assholes. When I’ve got them out of the way, I’ll get after the woman. She’ll talk when I get my hands on her. I’ll have the rest of my stuff within hours... Getting her to talk will be the best part.
Between a closed gas station and the pot-holed entry drive to an unused parking lot, he found a phone booth, it’s aluminum frame and windows smeared with black grime. Marco climbed in, folded the booth’s door closed behind him, busted the dim overhead light, and watched the street for a minute. When he was satisfied, he picked up the phone, dropped in some coins, and dialed.
A grating voice answered quickly. “Give me the box number. I’ll call you back in five.”
Exactly five minutes later, the phone rang and Marco picked up.
Vince was impatient as usual. “What’s the scoop?”
“It’s all set, I’ll meet you over here in Hamilton. You pay me, and you get to deliver the goods to the boys that same night. Then we’ll have one mother of a party.” Marco waited for a reply, his mind fixed on the job at hand. He fiddled with the coin-return box.
Finally, Vince’s voice echoed through the receiver and around the smelly booth. “Just give me a time and a goddamned place. As soon as we meet, you deliver the stuff you’ve already got. On the spot. The rest we’ll get whenever you get that broad figured out.
“The big guys want to see the product on hand before you get any more cash. So, I’ll meet you first, Paulo will be with me. We’ll check out your inventory, and then call the other two in...got it?”
“I got it. But this time, I get paid in full for what I deliver,” said Marco. “None of this ‘here’s half; the rest is in a locker’ bullshit. When this is over, I can’t fuck around. I’ve got shit to get done. Make sure they bring the cash. From now on, I get paid on delivery. I’ll be back to you with the time and place details tomorrow.”
Marco hung up the phone.
Chapter 22
I left the diner and followed Roy Jacobs. Kotch lived in a house on Hillyard Street, about a hundred yards south of the harbor and directly across from a large industrial shed that filled an entire block. The wood on the front porch hadn’t seen paint for decades, its railings and boards looked as if they would come away or lift up easily with a good tug. Hillyard Street wasn’t high rent, but most of it’s other houses looked reasonably well kept. Jacobs pulled open the ancient screen door. It was loose at the hinges, hung at an angle, and was blocked from opening completely by a knee-high stack of discarded car batteries.
The smell of neglect and garbage greeted us as we walked in. The cramped living room contained a sofa that sagged badly, was missing a leg and listed towards the wall. A dirty white beanbag chair still bore the body impression of its last occupant and sat in front of an old cupboard door resting on four cinder bricks. Several empty beer bottles and an overflowing ashtray were on the floor beside the make-shift table.
“No one’s been here since we executed the first warrant,” said Jacobs. “There’s a couple of days’ worth of undisturbed dust on some of the bedroom furniture. In this room, nothing has changed.”
I heard muffled voices coming from down the hallway. One of the voices was Gallo’s. I could see him and the other two cops. They were standing at a bedroom door, looking, but not going in.
Jacobs walked down the hall towards them. I stood by the kitchen door, listening. “What’s the deal, Pat?” He asked.
“I didn’t touch anything, Roy, but I went in a few feet for a look at the bed. There are all kinds of shot spots and pubic hairs on the sheets, must be a couple of weeks worth of tumbles. She obviously had plenty of johns, and no time for laundry. Now that we know Sugar turned tricks here, Homicide will probably want some forensics done.”
“They will. I’ll make the call for them. We’ll get the ashtrays and beer bottles checked too. Nothing’s jumping out about a specific perp, so we’re just going to tape off the place and wait for Homicide outside.”
While Roy made his call, I ducked into the small kitchen. Hamilton Homicide wouldn’t like it, but what the hell...they weren’t going to know. I put on a pair of crime scene gloves that I kept in my pocket and did a quick check of the drawers. Sue had told me that when Gloria does her thing, she likes to have personal items, stuff to get a read on. A small pile of papers was on the counter beside the refrigerator. They were mostly flyers and a few hot rod magazines. I ignored them. But, in a drawer, there were three or four photographs of a slovenly looking guy standing by a customized ’58 Impala. I’d seen mug shots of Kotch and I recognized him as the guy in the photos. There was also a keychain with a fancy leather fob, a ceramic image of a ’58 Impala on one side and the initials DK, also ceramic, on the other.
I slipped the keychain and photos into my jacket pocket just before Roy Jacobs came into the kitchen.
“Have you seen enough, Phil? We’re locking the place down for forensics.”
“I’m good, Roy. Thanks for letting me tag along.”
“Keep in touch. This thing, on our side, and yours, is going to move quickly. We’d do well to compare notes on a regular basis, you all right with that?”
We shook hands.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Roy.”
I waited for Pat Gallo’s crew on the sidewalk, and said my goodbyes before climbing into the car. It was time to go to Sue’s house.
WITH OUR UNIT’S CARPOOL setup, most of the vehicles weren’t equipped with regular police radios. The cars were for surveillance. To keep them from being recognized, our crew rotated between rentals and confiscated cars. Having a radio installed on every car we used was impractical. So, if a five or six-car crew is on the road, only one car would have a police-band radio. To communicate, we used reliable but short-range handsets in every vehicle. Anything important coming over the police band, or being sent to it, was to be broadcast from the equipped car to the other members via handset.
Because of the meeting with Jacobs and the search of Kotch’s place, all I had was a handset. When I was in range of the motel, I called Ernie.
“Anything new?” I asked.
“Better get your ass over here, Phil. There’s a lot of fresh info coming in. More than we should talk about over the air. How far away are You?”
“I’ll be there in ten.”
When I pulled into the motel parking lot, Ernie was sitting on a folding chair outside of his room. He stood as soon as he saw me and motioned that he was getting into my car.
He shut the car door behind him. “This asshole has gone right off the rails, Phil. We figure him for three wacks up here: Zip, the hooker in the hammer, and probably Kotch.”
“Nothing new there, Ernie.”
I waited. I knew he had something else to say.
“I was talking to Jack Duggan a little while ago,” Ernie said. “Duggan spent the morning with an FBI guy who’s up from New York, sniffing around about some major occurrences in Manhattan. There’s a Canadian connection. NYPD has an interest as well—two diamond dealers, a father and son were bludgeoned to death in their office, their inventory cleaned out. So, we’re talking huge bucks. They’ve also got complaints from diamond dealers about consignment frauds that point up here. The M.O.s all fit Marco. Duggan thinks everything matches up with that Sure Clean transcript.”
“All we’ve got to do is find the son of a bitch,” I said.
Ernie lit up a smoke. “He’s stayed on the loose for years. It won’t be easy. Mind you, for all that time, he was moving, on the run after his scores. Now things are different.”
“You mean now he’s got to come through the chasers to get what he wants
, he’s got to come through us. Right?”
“Right. But this guy thinks he can get through any number of cops. He’s cunning and dangerous to the extreme... Everybody better be on their game.” He glanced at me, but didn’t need to. I got it.
“Phil, if we could figure out where Nathan’s stashes are, we could wait Marco out.”
“We know they’re not far from Sue’s place,” I replied. “That’s why he’s up here.”
“Marco doesn’t know exactly where they are ... Do you think Sue could point us...or him, in the right direction?”
Even though Ernie’s question was softened, it pissed me off. But, it was a question that any cop worth his badge would ask. I kept my cool. “No, I don’t. But Marco thinks she knows it all. Eventually, he’ll come after her.”
“Aren’t you going to let her know that?”
“I will. Not yet, but soon.”
Ernie massaged his forehead. “What else is happening?”
“Someone else will be coming in on this play soon, partner.”
“You mean because of the FBI interest?”
“No, they won’t push that way unless we don’t build a case. Duggan probably has them hooked up with the Crown Law Office, working on an extradition for down the road.”
‘So, who else are you talking about?”
I reminded Ernie about the Sure Clean transcript. “I’m talking about the scum bags; the loan sharks and their heavies.”
“Sure,” said Ernie, “Arturo and Gus will be lurking in the weeds, waiting to scoop a fortune.”
“Yeah, but those two will stay at arm’s length. They’ll have their boys hanging around. And Marco will have that figured out.”
I looked at my watch, I wanted to get going. “It’s moving a little faster than I thought, but I think we still have a few days before he makes a move on the house. He’s scoping out any potential problems. I also think he’s looking at cutting out his so-called partners. That’s why we may have a couple of days before he starts on Sue.”
Ernie got out of the car, and leaned in through the passenger window.
“That’s risky thinking, Phil. I’m not sure Marco’s that predictable. I wouldn’t leave it too long before giving her the heads-up.”
“I won’t, but I want to hold back a bit longer. I’ll tell her tomorrow, after she gets home from work. But just in case, you have everyone briefed and sitting close to her house. Just put out plenty of coverage. I’m staying there tonight too. I’ll have a handset.”
“Will do.” Ernie paused and shook his head. “I didn’t think so before, Phil. But now, I think you may be wrong on the timing.”
“Here’s my thinking, Ernie. Marco probably wants to deal with those assholes before he goes after the stashes. From what I’ve heard about him, he doesn’t want to share a goddamned dime.”
Ernie turned away from the window. “For Sue’s sake, I hope you’re right.”
I called Ernie back. “Have you got an extra mug shot of Ranez in your file?”
“Yeah, it’s in the room. I’ll get it.”
I needed the bike. When he came back to the car about ten minutes later, I shifted over to the passenger side.
He handed me the mug shot. “Phil, Sue’s place is set. As of today, there’ll be at least five cars watching twenty-four seven, all within a tight radius. But until we get a real surveillance team on Marco’s ass, or spot him ourselves, he’s got an advantage. We might not see him heading in. And what if he makes his move somewhere else? Maybe we should put a small crew on Sue when she’s out. Just to be safe.”
“We need more manpower to do that, and for a few days, we’re not getting more than we’ve got. The house is the main attraction for Marco, and we’ve got that covered. We can’t dilute that coverage when she’s out. We don’t want the bastard slipping in and waiting.”
Chapter 23
I headed to Sue’s. Time to listen to more spook theories. I hate to admit it, and I wouldn’t in front of Sue, but I was a little more open to that kind of discussion than I had been before the encounters we’d had. Especially the one in the bedroom. I would participate in this chin-wag, but truth be told, I went more in the hope of coming up with something to keep my credibility with Roy Jacobs intact. I was ready to put Charles and Gloria to the test.
They’d arrived before me. I found everyone sitting around the kitchen table looking over some papers. I remembered that Charles was writing a book, and that Sue and Gloria were both intrigued by it. Fair enough, they’d talked about that until I arrived. Sue greeted me with a kiss on the cheek. Charles gathered the sheets of his manuscript and put the file into his briefcase. He pulled out the same notepad he had the other night.
“Glad you could get away, Phil.”
I shook his hand and took a seat at the table. Sue sat to my right and moved her chair over so that our arms were almost touching. She seemed a little nervous.
Gloria smiled and looked me square in the eyes. A good start.
I don’t know why, but I expected Charles to start things off. Wrong again.
Sue spoke first. “Whatever is disturbing my house, I want it stopped. There have been some alarming incidents...and whatever is here gets angry about Phil. It seems preoccupied with me. That scares me.
“And that’s why I wanted Gloria and Charles to help, Phil. They come at a problem like this from different directions, and they both know how to deal with troubled spirits.”
Funny, a while ago I would have scowled cynically, or made a wisecrack. At least now, I was ready to listen and contribute without being a jerk. A sceptic, but not a jerk.
Sue was sincere, her fear evident, and genuine. She held out both hands, and gazed along the hall towards the front of the house. She straightened up in the chair. “This is my home. Nothing is going to scare me out of it. Not for a minute, and not for a night. These things have to stop.”
A manila envelope lay on the table, it was sealed. She picked it up. “This arrived today from the Toronto Reference Library. It contains the information I was telling you about the other night.
She was about to break the seal. Charles distracted her. “Sue, the other night, when we first discussed this, you told us the entity whispered a name in your ear. At some point, will you tell us the name?”
“Of course, but let’s look at this first.”
In spite of what happened the other night, I still had a hard time with the entity reference. Sue took a document and some photocopies out of the envelope. She didn’t look at them, just laid them out on the table where we could all see them.
“At the museum the other day,” said Sue. “I found out that the family who lived on this site before and during the War of 1812 was named Rafferty. There was Robert Rafferty and his wife. Robert was a soldier who was stationed at Fort George.”
Sue’s hands clenched, the knuckles blanched. “The wife’s name was Elizabeth,” she said softly, shaking her head.
We all sat quietly for a minute. I held back a comment, it wasn’t the right moment.
“Robert and Elizabeth had two boys,” said Sue. “Simon and John. Simon was fourteen and John was twelve. This is a copy of a report the reference library made for me. It was submitted by an officer of the King’s 8th Regiment. The custodian put a note at the bottom of the copy. The note indicates the King’s 8th was the same regiment the man who made the sketches served in.”
Sue slid the report in front of Charles. “Charles, would you mind reading this aloud? I’d rather not, I choked up a bit when I read it before.”
Charles picked the copy up. He read it first and then summarized. “The report concerns a briefing of the leader of a small patrol that was detailed to search the heights above Stoney Creek after the battle. It describes what they found on this site.
“The house had been vandalized, and looted. They found the body of a boy in the front room behind the window. There was a damaged musket near his body. The outside front walls of the house and the interior wall
behind him were riddled with shot.
“In her husband’s absence, Mrs. Rafferty and her two sons lived on the farm. The body the troops found was one of her sons. The report speculated that the farm was approached by fleeing Americans, and that the boy put up a defense. Because Mrs. Rafferty and the other boy were not found, it was assumed that they had left earlier.
“There’s another note from the custodian. According to area residents, Mrs. Rafferty and the other son were never seen or heard from again.”
Sue spoke softly. “The Battlefield Museum records I saw indicate that the dead boy the British soldiers found was Simon. Simon and the father, who was killed later in action near Niagara, were buried alongside each other at the Stoney Creek cemetery.”
Charles removed his glasses and put the document down. “That’s the cemetery at the western edge of the battlefield. It’s at the present-day corner of King Street and Highway 20.”
Gloria had been studying the sketches since Sue put them on the table. She looked up. “What did they tell you about these, Sue?”
“These sketches were with the journals of a British officer, also in the King’s 8th Regiment. A man named Parsons,” said Sue. “He was killed in action too. The journals and sketches were recovered from his quarters at Fort George. Parsons was a well-trained artist.”
Gloria turned the copies of the sketches over and looked at the custodian’s notes on the back. She held one of the sheets up so that the drawing could be seen. “This one is interesting. It’s a sketch of local women preparing food for some British troops who passed through here on the way to Fort George in 1812. Apparently, the sketch was made on this property. Parsons had made notes on the edge of the original that clearly identified one woman, the one closest to the artist, as the lady of the house, a Mrs. Robert Rafferty of Stoney Creek. There was another note beside that one. Her Christian name was Elizabeth.”
Sue leaned forward, shaking her head. I touched her wrist, amazed at what I saw.
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