Uncommon Thief
Page 40
Chapter 40
Nightlife
In spite of their yet-unfulfilled quest, Steve and Randy were dazzled by the Toronto night life. As they moved from one bar to another, they almost forgot their mission and began to enjoy the sights, sounds and beautiful women that frequented many of the night spots they were checking out. All day, they had searched for someone who had seen Sam Stewart, to no avail. Surely someone who resembled St. Nick so very much would catch the notice of many people, but so far, no one they had talked to had seen hide nor hair of the elusive Sam Stewart. By the time they entered the Morrissey Tavern on Yonge Street, they were in a somber mood.
"I don't know if can do this drill again," Steve moaned. "How did Fred get into this mess anyway? Mr. Honest Abe sure screwed up his life this time," Steve fumed.
"Well, what would you have done differently in his shoes?” Randy asked.
“I’d have put the money back in the bank and took off.”
“Even with the cop lurking about?”
“Yeah, that’s a load of crap! Fred wanted to keep the money, and that’s that.”
“Well, wouldn’t you have?”
"No. Well, I might have wanted to keep it, but I wouldn’t have actually done it."
"Even if you knew absolutely, positively that you wouldn't get caught?"
"Well, I guess if I were 100 percent guaranteed to get away with it, I might have done it," Steve admitted.
"See. That's what I am saying. There are very few truly honest people in the world—just a lot of people who are afraid of getting caught," Randy said. “But personally, I think Fred would have put the money back had he had a way to do it.”
“I don’t know. You may be right,” Steve conceded “Why don't we have a beer and rest a while?"
"Good idea."
They walked over to a small table near the bar and sat down. A tall redhead came over and took their order. In a few minutes, she brought them a pitcher of beer. Steve and Randy began to drink and loosen up. Before long, they noticed some of the female patrons sitting in the bar.
"Have you noticed there are a lot of hot-looking women in this bar?" Randy asked.
"Yeah, I was noticing that. Too bad they wouldn’t give us the time of day."
"Speak for yourself. I could have one in bed within thirty minutes,” Randy assured him. “I could probably even line one up for you.”
Steve shook his head. “Fifty bucks says you can’t."
"You're on."
Randy got up and walked over to a table at which two young dark-haired beauties were seated. Steve moved close enough to hear the conversation.
"Hi, girls. May I sit down for a minute and tell you a sad story?" Randy asked politely.
The girls looked at him, somewhat aloof, but nodded their consent.
"I’m Randy.”
The blond girl smiled faintly. “I’m Susie, and this is Monica.”
“Nice to meet you. My friend Steve over there and I just flew in a few days ago from LA. Our best friend, Fred Fuller, is on trial for murder, and we’re here searching for a witness who could exonerate him," Randy said sorrowfully. “But so far, we haven’t had any luck.”
“I think I saw something about that on the news,” Monica acknowledged.
“What does this witness look like?” Susie asked.
Randy showed them Sam’s picture. “He looks a little bit like Santa Claus.”
“I don’t know him, sorry,” Susie said. Monica nodded her agreement.
“Well, I didn’t figure you would have. You’re all a bit young for this guy. What we were wondering, though, is if you girls would like to party a while. We really need a break.”
They laughed and then looked at each other. Finally, the blond said, “Sure. Come on over for a bit. You can buy us a drink.”
Randy looked over at Steve and motioned for him to join them. Steve walked over and sat next to Susie. Randy introduced them to Steve and then ordered everyone a round of drinks. They talked for a while and found out the girls were college students at a local university. Randy told them all about Fred’s trial and how the FBI had been following them. A half hour later, one of the girls suggested they move the party to Susie’s flat. Randy looked at Steve and grinned broadly.
While the girls were powdering their respective noses, Randy tried to convince Steve that they should accept the invitation. “The last thing we need to be doing tonight is chasing pussy,” Steve argued. “We need to concentrate on finding Sam."
Randy knew Steve had never been with a woman, and his strong religious beliefs would preclude him from engaging in casual sex, but he enjoyed pushing him to brink just to see him sweat. He decided he’d gone far enough. "You're right,” Randy conceded, “but you owe me fifty bucks.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll pay you your fifty bucks. Don’t worry.”
Before the girls came back, Randy paid the bill, and they regretfully left the bar and hailed a cab to take them back to the hotel.
"Maybe we're looking at this from the wrong perspective," Randy suggested as they climbed into the cab. "We've got to put ourselves in Sam's place and figure out what he would do. What would a middle-aged ex-con with six million bucks do in Toronto?"
"It depends on whether he thought the FBI would be after him or not," Steve replied. "If he thought they were, he wouldn't be lounging around a hotel or hanging around a nightclub."
"You have a point. So where would he be?" Randy asked.
"He'd go someplace safe—a place where he wouldn't be conspicuous, at least for a few months until things cooled down."
"He's probably watching the TV news every day, hoping Fred will get convicted. Then he'll be able to come out of hiding and enjoy his money."
"Why would he come to Toronto?" Steve asked.
"Wait a minute! That's it! Toronto isn’t a destination someone would ordinarily pick to hide from the law. You’d go to Argentina or one of the other safe havens of the world. The only reason he’d come to Toronto would be if he had a relative or acquaintance in Toronto, someone who’d be willing to hide him."
"I bet that's it, but how are we going to find his relatives?" Steve asked.
"Let's call Roberts. Maybe he can put his investigator on it."
"It's pretty late. Should we wait until morning?"
"No. Roberts won't mind. This is important. Let's find a phone booth."
"Okay. I'll call him when we get back to our hotel and see what he says," Steve agreed.
When they got back to their room, Steve took Joel’s card out of his wallet and dialed the number on their room phone. "Operator, I want to make a collect call to Ventura, California, USA. This is Steve Robins. . . . Okay, I'll wait." A minute later Joel Roberts was on the line.”
"Mr. Roberts."
"Hi, Steve. How's the search going?"
"Well, it’s been pretty slow but we just realized where Sam must be."
"Oh really? Where is that?"
"He must have a relative up here. Can you have Peter check and see?"
"Absolutely. I’ll get him right on it."
"Good. I’m sure somebody’s hiding him here."
"Where can I reach you with the information?"
"We're at the Cambridge Hotel on Dixon Road, Room 343."
"Okay. I'll call you tomorrow just as soon as I find something out."
“Oh, how’s the trial going?” Steve asked hopefully.
“Ah. Nothing has changed. Sorry.”
"Okay. Thanks.”
Steve hung up the telephone and then joined Randy at the bar. “He’s going to have his investigator check it out in the morning,” Steve reported.
“Hmm. I wouldn’t hold my breath.”
“What do you mean?”
“Peter Stiller hasn’t found shit so far,” Randy complained. “We don’t have time to be waiting around for him to get off his ass.”
“So, what do you suggest?” Steve asked.
“We should call Fred’
s friend from the motor pool. What’s his name?”
“Oh, you mean the Australian guy, Jim.”
“Right,” Randy said. “Fred gave me his number.”
“Okay, it’s too late to call him now. We’ll call him first thing in the morning.
Randy looked at his watch. “Yeah. You’re probably right. He couldn’t access company files this time of night anyway.
They were both tired so they watched the news and then went to bed. Neither of them slept very well, however, as they knew that finding Sam Stewart was still a longshot and time was running out.