“Is there any more information from your end, Phil? You know how it goes. It’s nice to fill in any gaps on the report. The Crown will want all the ins and outs. They hate surprises.”
“Yeah, I hear you.” Now, I figured I might be stuck. I wondered if Roy could tell.
He continued. “They might ask what turned us on to the airport... to see if we’ve flushed out all potential witnesses. Long shot, I’m sure. But, do you have anything else I can add?”
I chuckled, partly to relieve my tension, and partly as a way of preparing Roy to hear something a little weird. “Doesn’t look like there are any witnesses coming out of this source, Roy.”
“So, if I’m asked, this was just an anonymous tip...or can I flesh that out a bit?”
“No, just tell them that you got it from me. Between you and me though, I got it from an unusual source.” I could feel my face heating up. “Strange thing. I was introduced to this lady from St. Catherines. A psychic... said she could point me in the right direction. What she told me sounded whacky, and I didn’t buy it, but I’d promised to fill you in on anything that comes up on Kotch. With the way things were going down, I took a flyer.
“Now, you tell me that they found Kotch like this. I’m blown away.”
“You say she’s from St. Catherines. Any chance her name is Gloria?”
Roy throwing her name out there was another surprise. “It is...do you know her?”
“I know her personally. I might be in the minority on this, but I classify her as a reliable source. Thanks for passing it on, Phil. I owe you lunch.”
I called Sue’s place as soon as I hung up from Jacobs. She still wasn’t home. The phone rang ten times without an answer. I waited ten minutes before I called again. Same result. No answer. I checked my watch for the umpteenth time. It was ten thirty.
Chapter 30
The house was dark and quiet. Lemon’s buddies had taken the cash and headed to the freebie party at Wasaga Beach. They would be having one hell of a time...good. Lemon would get looked after soon. He’d deliver this woman, get a fresh supply of goodies, and have the house to himself. In forty minutes, he would be feeling just fine.
He parked at the end of the long driveway, saw the glow of a cigarette in the trees, someone taking a deep drag. Lemon kept his eyes on the spot. Another glow, and Jasper stepped out onto the driveway. Lemon climbed out of the VW bus and moved towards him.
“Took the route you told me to, man. Only saw one parked car that might have been heat. It didn’t follow me.”
Jasper blew a trail of smoke.
“Okay, Lemon. You’ve done alright. I’ve got a treat here for you, high-end stuff...real sweet. First, help me get her settled, then we get mellow.”
Jasper took a strip of paper out of his shirt pocket and a small flashlight from his jeans. He had the combination memorized, but he looked at his cheat sheet anyway. They moved towards the RV.
“Let’s open this thing up.”
He entered the combination. The padlock opened easily. Jasper unzipped the entrance, went inside, turned on the flashlight, and nodded towards the back of the unit.
“We’ll put her on that cot. Help me drag her in.”
SUE WAS DEPOSITED ON the cot. She was still bound, blindfolded, and gagged. Wherever she was, it smelled musty. She felt the heat of the men close to her. A halo of light from a flashlight filtered through her blindfold.
One of the men spoke. “Listen, lady. We’re not here to hurt you. Someone else is coming to talk to you in a while. If you cooperate with him you’ll be fine. But if you scream or call out, we’ll have no choice but to cut you, or something worse if we have to. Do you understand?”
Sue nodded as best she could.
“You thirsty?”
She gave another nod and a grunt. Anything to get the foul gag away from her mouth.
“I’ll loosen the gag, but just for a second so you can drink. Don’t make a sound. We don’t need any information from you yet. So, even a peep from you, it goes right back on, no drink. You do anything stupid, and I’ll hurt you, got it?”
The sound of a cap being removed from a bottle was followed by a fizzing sound. Sue felt the grip of heavy hands on her head. The gag came away.
“I’m not going to untie you. My friend here will hold the bottle while you drink up.”
Sue tilted her head back and waited.
The bottle touched her lips. Warm soda splashed on her mouth and chin, and down onto her chest, but enough got into her mouth to quench her thirst. It tasted like 7UP. She shook her head when she’d had enough, and hoped the gag wasn’t going back on. She’d struggled against retching since her capture, scared that if she threw up she’d choke on her own vomit. But, it was going back on. She was told to open her mouth, she did, but not fully. The rag didn’t bind as deeply into her mouth as before. Hopefully that would reduce the risk of gagging. She felt them checking her wrist and leg ties. The men hooked something else to her restraints and tugged at her wrists and ankles.
“Okay, lady, we’ve anchored you through the frame of the cot to the bunk base, you’re not going anywhere.”
Sue was pushed down on the cot. The men left. She felt the place rock a little as they stepped out the door and clunked it closed. She was in some type of RV. Lifting her arms and legs was impossible, there was no give in the ropes; she wouldn’t be able to get off the cot. Thankfully, she’d used the washroom before leaving the roadhouse.
Lying still in the silence of her prison, Sue wondered how quickly Phil would be able to find her. Now, with nothing to do but think and pray, her eyes filled. Hot tears gathered under the blindfold and trickled down her cheeks.
AN OLD PICNIC TABLE sat on a slight rise a few steps from the RV. Jasper motioned for Lemon to follow him to it. They followed the beam of the flashlight, moving slowly on the uneven ground around the trees. Jasper perched on the table top and reached into his pocket. “Here we go, Lemon. Party time... Shine that light over here so I can get this shit ready.”
Jasper prepared the hypodermics. When he finished the first one, he handed it to Lemon. He watched Lemon shoot up, and picked up the second hypodermic. He cradled it in his palm, having no intention of using it. “You’re all set. I’ve got that cash for you... Let’s go in the house. I need to take a dump. I’ll do my fix inside.”
They walked through the darkness to the old house, Lemon already showing the effects of the hit. When they got inside, Jasper patted him on the shoulder. “Leave the lights off. I’m hitting the can. Back in a few.”
As soon as Jasper got into the squalid washroom, he squeezed the contents of his syringe into the toilet bowl, and dropped it onto the floor. Marco had told him to slash Lemon’s throat and stash him under the RV, but Jasper wanted to keep things simple. Loading up Lemon’s fix was no problem, and the prick would die fast. It would look like an overdose, no hassle, less guilt. Lemon would go out happy. Mellow. If this score went wrong, Jasper would be facing enough shit without a murder rap. Evidence of the tampered dose gone, Jasper went to join Lemon. The kid was sprawled facedown on a mangy mattress in the front room, probably already dead. Time to leave.
Jasper checked the padlock on the RV before climbing into the tow truck. The woman was secure. He drove to the streets of central Hamilton and parked next to two payphones outside a furniture shop on Ottawa Street. The shops had all closed long ago. The street was quiet.
One of the payphones was going to ring. He’d been told it would ring every five minutes until he was there to pick it up. He lit a cigarette and watched the truck’s reflection in the shop window. He smiled at his own image, knowing that he was close to collecting ten grand.
The last fucking tow truck I’ll need to drive.
He looked up and down Ottawa Street, got out and approached the phone booths. He had a tire wrench up his jacket sleeve, not because he expected any trouble, but to warn off any scumbag who wanted to make a call or check the coin boxes for change. Not likely
to happen, but if it did, the sight of Jasper standing by the phones with a tire iron would keep the phones available.
Finally, one of the phones rang. Jasper entered the booth and picked up. It was Marco. “You get both of those jobs done?”
“Yeah, that item is ready for you, and I looked after the driver.”
“Good. I’m going to need your help back there. This job could get a little messy, but there’s a bigger cut in it for you. Is your head clear?”
“Sure, nothing but coffee and a few smokes. I’m good.”
“Okay. Take the truck back to the lot and put it in a dark corner. I’ll meet you there, pick out another set of wheels, and we’ll head up. You’ll drive. I’ll want to take the quickest route up the escarpment you know. I’ll tell you what’s happening as we go.”
“I’m on my way.”
“There’s something else.”
“Yeah, what?”
“Make sure your blade is sharp, and bring a good lighter.”
“It’s always sharp, and I’ll bring two good lighters.”
“Good. You might have to do a little persuading.”
Chapter 31
Jack Duggan had walked back alley’s and sidewalks in the seedy part of Hamilton since he’d left Phil’s crew at the motel. He stopped and sat on a bench in a small park across from a pool hall.
This was the kind of police work he excelled at, fitting into the street life and watching, waiting for a suspect or a clue to emerge. His partial dentures out, his face whiskered and dirty, a bagged bottle of Four Aces in his hand, Jack kept his well-trained eyes open for the elusive Marco. The tattered shirt, pants, and jacket he used for this job were already smelly. Periodically, he took a sip from the bottle, making sure to slobber down his chin and splash his clothes. From the park he watched the streets and alleys that Marco might use.
Other brown baggers and street people were hanging around the park. Some had spent the day delivering flyers or doing casual labor, jobs that were handed out through a local job bureau on a first-come, first-served basis. Others had spent their time panhandling. Jack held his bottle and watched. As much as he enjoyed the role playing, he was getting frustrated. So far, his efforts had been futile. Not even a hint of Marco.
He left the park and found a payphone, called Roy Jacobs at Hamilton Police Headquarters, and told him to send uniforms to pick him up at the park. He told him to make it look like an arrest on a warrant, and not let the uniforms know he was a cop. He might need to go back under.
Within thirty minutes he was at Roy’s office.
Jack was led in and put the chair across the desk from Roy. When the uniforms left, Roy gave him a sly grin. He pinched his nose, stood up, and made a show of opening a window.
“Brother, the Mountie brass isn’t as well turned out as it used to be.”
Jack gave him the one-finger salute.
Jacobs chuckled and doodled on his note pad. “Well, at least your timings good. I’m pretty sure we’ve had a Marco sighting.”
Duggan’s big frame had been slouched across the chair. He straightened up. “I’m all ears. Fill me in.”
“I don’t know if Phil’s mentioned Pat Gallo from our Vice Unit to you.”
“He has.”
“Pat’s team has been watching a whorehouse over top of a pizzeria in the west end for some time. It’s a biker-run operation, close to that park you were in.”
“I know the place.”
“Our boys are doing a traffic count, building the case for a bawdy-house search warrant...they’ve been watching the back-alley staircase, and the street door.
“There’s a tow-truck driver that has shown up four times this week. He usually came – pardon the choice of words – in the early evening and always parked in the alley. Three times he went up the back stairs and stayed for at least twenty minutes.
“The fourth time he showed up, it was later in the evening. He had a passenger. Our crew had a telephoto lens and it was still light enough to get a few pictures for their file. The truck is registered to Jiffy Used Auto Sales in Hamilton.”
Jacobs slid his chair closer to the desk.
“The driver of the tow truck is a biker named Jasper Bain. The tow-truck is part of Jiffy’s inventory. Jasper has the use of it, we’re not completely sure what the deal is between him and Jiffy.
“So, on the night he arrived at the back of the pizza joint with this passenger, he went up the stairs by himself first, and came down almost immediately. A few minutes later one of the hookers came down the stairs, walked in front of the truck, and opened a padlocked garage. She went inside. The passenger in the truck put on a knitted balaclava and went into the garage.”
“That’s interesting,” said Duggan. “This guy went in to get his rocks off wearing a balaclava. Wouldn’t that freak the girl out?”
“Not if she’d been well compensated and reassured by Jasper. Gallo said that’s done from time to time by local politicians, celebrities, or other skittish tricks. They wear a Balaclava or some kind of mask to avoid recognition.
“Later, Gallo unscrewed the padlock’s mount bar and slipped in to check out the garage. It’s fixed up like a mini rub-and-tug. There’s a mattress, a small fridge, a couple of chairs, a table, a hamper, and lots of towels.
“Anyway, the way this trick was delivered and went down, we figure it could be Marco.”
“What makes you think it could be him, the pictures with Jasper?”
“The pictures were inconclusive. The only clear one was of him in the balaclava going in. The height and build seem okay, but there were a couple of other things that point to Marco. For one thing notaries don’t usually arrive at whorehouses in tow-trucks, and this guy Jasper is a known associate of Kotch. He’s also his supplier of drugs.”
Duggan leaned forward over the desk and stood up. “That’s good enough for me, Roy. We need to track down Jasper and that tow-truck. If we get a positive on Marco, I want that damned truck, and everyone in it taken down. Let’s get on it.”
Chapter 32
Jack told me about the tow-truck, Jasper Bain, and the probable Marco sighting. At last we had something. I prayed that one of the surveillance crews would be able to establish a tail. Soon. We had to find Marco.
It was hard for me not to lose it, to stay focused on the hunt. Every once in a while, I felt like putting my head in my hands and letting the despair out. But, there was no time for that. Shit, I couldn’t stand the images flashing through my mind, or the fact that Marco, or one of his cronies had Sue. There was only one option, only one thing I could do. Work. I had to clear all the crap out of my head, and get at it.
Sue’s house and every road into it were well covered. I hoped that if anyone showed interest, or came close to her place, I’d hear about it. I decided to hang around the motel for a bit: stay close to the house, and think everything through, cover every scenario.
An investigator’s mind shouldn’t race when considering what criminals would do next. Mine was racing, I had to slow it down. I needed to focus on what was known, assess the what ifs, without fixating on them, and react instinctively to good information and new developments. My feelings for Sue had clouded my judgement to this point, my emotions had been in the way. It was good that I’d left her place: too much Sue, too much us. I took a few deep breaths, sat back in the chair and focused on Marco Ranez, and on Jasper Bain, biker and tow-truck driver. I made point-form notes on what we knew and then a short what if scenario list, and a few contingencies for each possibility.
Ernie walked into the room, looking dog-tired. He’d been on the go since first thing in the morning. He sat on the edge of a bed. “Jack filled you in?”
“Yeah. You should grab some sleep, Ernie. I’ll wake you if anything breaks. If not, we’ve got to be mobile and on the air by three, or I’ll go nuts.”
His eyebrows arched and he shook his head. “There’s no bloody way I’m crashing out now, not even for a few minutes. Let’s compare note
s and get out there.”
“All right. Have you worked up much of a file on that place by the drive-in?”
“I’ve got some background on it, and what goes on there. Do you want me to grab the file?”
“No, just spit out what you think is important.”
“Well, the old house was owned by the family of one of the kids who flops there. The kid’s a rounder and druggie. When his mother died a few years back, he inherited the property and the house. At any given time, there could be half a dozen or so of his buddies hanging around.
“The family name is Klish. The kid is Allen, aka Lemon. He’s got a sheet for car theft and assorted drug charges. There’s also a small cottage on the property at the other end of the laneway. An uncle who predeceased his parents used to live in it. It’s in worse shape than the family house, just a shack really, with a separate driveway off the side road. It’s just a bit south of Sue’s place. The driveway is pretty much overgrown, but still accessible by vehicle.”
“Good to know.”
“The whole property is pretty well trashed; an open house for druggies, mostly males, early-to- mid-twenties. They support their habits through petty theft, break-ins, and occasional purse snatches.”
“Are they dealing drugs?”
“They don’t sell much. Most of them are supplied by a guy from the Hammer. That biker, Jasper.”
I stood up, walked over to the desk and picked up a handset. “For Christ’s sake... I should have had a permanent observation point on that flophouse since day one.”
“We didn’t have the manpower, Phil, don’t be beating yourself up.”
“We do now. I’d better tighten thing up.” I pressed the carrier on the handset. “Zeph Leader to all MS units, reduce zone, code flash. Move in badger by one concession, and trout three side roads. Come in cedar by at least one major.
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