The Diamond Dust on Dragonfly Wings: A Jeffry Claxton Mystery Novel

by Michael Yudov

  “Oui.”

  “Therese, listen carefully. It’s OK to be afraid when you think there’s danger. It’s better than being fearless, and doing something stupid. Fear can be your friend, by helping you to be careful. Just don’t let yourself panic, because panic is your enemy. Do you understand what I’m saying?” Her voice was a bit firmer this time.

  “D’accord. Yes, I will be careful, and I will not panic. How shall I know you when we meet?”

  “I’m six feet three inches tall, with light brown hair. I’ll be wearing blue jeans and Nikes, with a loose white dress shirt, not tucked in. Do you know the difference between the home and away colours of the Montreal Canadiens hockey team?”

  “Mais oui, bien sûr. They are the greatest team in the history of the hockey itself.” In spite of the situation I think I’d almost managed to insult her. I grinned to myself.

  “Your team, right? Ok, I’ll be wearing a Canadiens home colours jersey over my white shirt. You won’t miss me.”

  “Bien, I shall see you there. Is there anything else?”

  “No, we’ll talk then. Be cautious and stay safe.”

  “Au revoir.” As she hung up, the doorbell rang. That would be George. Good timing. I checked my watch. Nine thirty-seven.

  The image of George wearing his ‘I’m a cop but I’m the one in charge’ designer outfit greeted me as I looked through the peephole in the door. I think the paranoia was spreading. That’s one of the dangers of being exposed to paranoia. It’s infectious. This morning I’d had a liberal dose, and it was still building. I opened the door and he walked in, carrying his trench-coat over his left shoulder, the fedora tilted rakishly to the right, shading his eyes. The tailor-made double breasted he had on was one of those suits that you can’t afford to buy if have to ask the price. To say he was looking dapper was an understatement.

  “Thirty-nine minutes, not bad. Nice outfit, by the way. I believe the last time I saw one just like it, it was being worn by David Bowie. He was doing his impression of Frank Sinatra, on a catwalk about thirty feet over the stage. I think it was the Diamond Dogs tour.”

  He grinned as he stepped inside.

  I started back to the kitchen to finish the fresh pot of coffee. Over my shoulder I said, “Lock the door when you’ve closed it.” George tossed his hat and coat on the chair nearest the door and followed me. I set up the fresh pot and switched on the brewer, then sat down at the small table with him.

  The ease of communication that George and I shared went back a lot of years. We could practically read each other’s minds on a normal day. But today wasn’t normal. He sensed it, and waited for me to get started.

  “Everything’s OK with Sarah and I. How about you?”

  “It’s fine. She understands why you have to do it, and she’s not blaming me. I think we should just carry on the best we can and see if we can sort this out.”

  “What about this Chief Inspector Wilson Lapierre guy.”

  “What about him?”

  “You think I’m crazy, lost my mind maybe? You said…”

  “Okay, Okay. I managed to have a very good talk with him last night. Dropped by his family home to see him, in fact.”

  “Really?” I must have sounded dubious, because I was definitely dubious. George gets really seriously upset when any kind of bureaucracy interferes with one of his cases. That would include someone being put in charge over him, I would think.

  “Yeah, the guy turns out to be one of the most together RCMP bureaucrats I’ve ever met. In fact, we talked for over an hour, touching on a couple of other cases with potential federal ties. International crime, organized crime, national security crimes. That sort of thing. The upshot of it all is that I have to keep him up to date. Informed, as it were.”

  “That’s it? You have to keep him informed?”

  “Yup.”

  “You swizzled him with promises related to cases he actually cares about, is what you really mean. He doesn’t think there’s anything in this one for the Feds, right?”

  “Yup.”

  I shook my head. I should have known. “Ok, here’s where I’m at right now.” The coffee maker was chugging away in the background, and I could hear the tick of the kitchen wall clock as the seconds drifted by into oblivion. Tick, pause. Tick, pause. Tick, pause.

  Marshaling my thoughts, I started in and brought George up to date. He sat patiently through it all, waiting for me to wind down before adding his two cents worth. By the time I finished, we had fresh cups of hot coffee in front of us.

  “So, point number one.” He started counting off the fingers of one hand. “The missing fiancée isn’t missing, she’s in hiding, apparently fearing for her life. Point number two. Marsh has taken an overseas trip which is out of character for him, and called you off of the case at the same time. Point number three. There is some potential evidence from the computer of the deceased John Dawson wending its way to you as we speak. Point number four. In spite of the fact that you no longer have an official client paying you to pursue this case, you’ve managed to set up a meeting with the previously presumed missing fiancée of said deceased, who is supposedly bringing some sort of evidence to the meeting. Point number five. In the process, you’re going to screw up the first date you’ve had in… how long now?” He gave me one of his ‘Friendly Inquisitor’ looks.

  “Fine, I realize there are some complications here, but you see where we’re about to make some headway, and until my meeting with Marsh at nine tomorrow morning, I’m not officially reassigned. Transatlantic telephone calls don’t count. As for screwing up my date, I’ll let her know what’s going on when I pick her up, and let her choose her own course of action.” Reading the look on George’s face I quickly added, “I don’t mean explain the case to her George, just the meeting, and the fact that it’s very important. I mean the deal is, I buy four seats, right? Or three if Cynthia doesn’t come. When Therese shows up, I bring her back to the seats. I introduce her to you, we have a quick talk, just enough to get her trusting you, and the plan. Which you should be defining right about now, by the way. Therese doesn’t know that you’re going to be there, never mind the boys as well. So, if Cynthia does come, then initially I bring her back to the seats, and I introduce her to Cynthia…”. I held up my hand. “If Cynthia comes with me. If she does, it’ll help settle Therese down, having another woman around and all that, right? So, I tell her what’s going on, who you are, family etc., and then when she feels Okay about it, I signal you. You come down and sit with us and we have our chat. Then you take over. You protect Therese, and I get access to the information that she has. Or thinks she has. In the end, you know how it goes, it could be what we need to break the case wide open, or it could turn out to be nothing. But somebody killed her fiancé, and she’s convinced she’s next. We’ve got more than just some smoke and mirrors going on here, we’ve got fire as well. The question is, how high will the flames go before we get to put out the blaze? If we put it out. I don’t think protective custody down at headquarters is going to cut it. We need to be able to keep this tightly controlled while we have a go at utilizing whatever evidence she brings us. Agreed? Now where do we stand from your side?”

  George pursed his lips for a moment then shook his head. “Agreed. Interestingly enough, I too have made a contact of sorts. It seems that Ted Dawson may be missing, but someone’s been using his money. I was able to trace down a number of accesses to his main bank account, which is situated right here in Toronto. Over the past two weeks he, or someone using his name and signature, has transferred more than forty-seven thousand dollars, U.S. dollars, mind you, into the account. American exchange being what it is right now, that works out to be a tidy sum. In the neighborhood of sixty-six thousand. And then he cashed cheques to himself for the entire amount. The bank where the transfer originated was in Zurich, Switzerland. The bank which maintained the account with the forty-seven grand was in Amsterdam. It took almost all night to get the information, and I had t
o pull in a favour with Interpol to do it. Those are hard favours to get, and I didn’t like to use one up, but there you are. If Ted Dawson’s not dead, he’s in Switzerland. If he is dead, then the person or persons who killed him are in Switzerland. We are, of course, assuming that if he is dead, it wasn’t coincidental natural causes that killed him. The chances are also good that if he is dead, the person or persons responsible for his death should be the same ones who killed John.” George paused just long enough for me to jump in with my two cents’ worth

  “Unless it was Ted who killed John.”

  “Precisely.”

  “Has it crossed your mind that the Crassberg Group is headquartered in Zurich?”

  “Precisely.”

  “The odds for the conspiracy theory are growing as fast as we gather information.”

  “Precisely.”

  “Stop saying that, it’s irritating.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Ok. Now what about Therese? She’s being sought by the police as a missing person. She’s also wanted for standard questioning in John’s’ murder, right? So. I have a meeting set up for today. I think you should be there. I can make the contact and then hand off to you. How does that sound?”

  “That works for me. As I now am aware of the meeting, I’m obliged to be there as well as speak with her. The chief gets fussy about this sort of thing.”

  “Fine. Then we’re set for this afternoon, and I still get to go on my date with Cynthia. Now we need to look at the data that Everet picked off of the hard drive in John’s’ system.” I checked the wall clock. Ten fifteen.

  “It should be here any time now.”

  George took a sip of his coffee, and made a face. “Hmm, how did she sound Jeff?”

  “Therese?” He nodded affirmation. “She sounded scared. She was calling from a cellular link, but it was pretty clean, with virtually no background noise. Her voice came through clearly, and it was obvious that she was taking this whole thing very seriously. There was an insistence that she had nowhere else to turn. I don’t know why, but hopefully we’ll find out later today. I do know that after I spoke with her I started thinking a bit more about whether or not I might be under surveillance, and I don’t mean by you. That’s why I switched to the cellular. If the line here in the apartment is tagged, they probably are able to run a scanner for the cellular line as well, but wouldn’t be expecting it while I was at home.” I sighed. “The truth is, if I’m being monitored, they probably know about the meeting, and there’s not much we can do about it.”

  “You mean without going official.”

  “Exactly.”

  George thought for a moment. “If this is a conspiracy, who would it involve? Or, better, who could it involve?”

  That was the real heart of the case. We both sat there thinking hard, trying to line up the players. I was the one who jumped in first. “It doesn’t make much sense, with what we know so far, that it would be something worthy of a conspiracy, does it?” George took a turn.

  “No, it doesn’t. At the same time, let’s be realistic. There are too many coincidences for all of these things to be unrelated. What we are unaware of is the motivation behind it all. We’re at the point where we can say something is going on. We can say that we know there must be involvement on the part of two major financial institutions, and one government. Citebank, American, and the Crassberg Group, Swiss. Then we have the Brazilians. Whether or not any of these parties are involved knowingly, we have no idea at this time. The links we’ve established so far are restricted to only two people, really. One of whom is dead and one of whom is missing. Ted Dawson was working as a survey pilot for the Brazilians, and John Dawson was working for Citebank on the deal with the Crassberg Group to set up financing for the mining and production of steel in the Amazon for the Brazilian government.”

  “Just thinking about it is making me sweat.”

  “You mean who might be behind all of this?”

  “No, I mean a steel mill in the Amazon. Hot, or what?” We both laughed at the same time. Time.

  As I glanced at the clock on the wall the doorbell rang. It was ten eighteen.

  “That’ll be Billie, with the tape.” I got up from the table and headed for the front door.

  Since George was here I didn’t bother to check the peephole, which I should have, because when I flung the door open I was caught off guard somewhat a state I do not relish being in. Especially around women. It leads to misunderstandings.

  Nevertheless, there was Midori Kuwabara. Looking resplendent in black velvet bellbottoms with a matching bolero jacket. and a white silk blouse with lots of lace. Apparently, she liked that kind of thing. Truth to tell, the way she wore it, so did I. And then there was Everet. And of course, Billie Santers. Judging from the faces of these two, they were liking it too. Midori was grinning, and Billie was standing in the background, looking respectfully at the interaction of the little crowd. Everet stuck out his hand. I shook it and motioned them all in. Everet started explaining his presence before they were all the way in.

  “Hello there, Mr. Claxton. I guess you’re wondering why I’m here.” As he said it, my attention wavered from Midori for a moment, and I wondered just that. “Well, the game was rained out, rotten luck, right? Then I thought, if you were interested in the file, so should I be. So, I hopped a ride with Billie, and here I am. Maybe I can be of help.” When he walked in I saw that he had a package under his arm. He held it out to me as he spoke. I took the package from him and laughed under my breath. He was keen, that’s for sure. I took charge.

  “Ok, Midori, you go into the kitchen and introduce yourself to George.” I looked at Billie Santers, and got an idea. Billie, you go with her. You’re responsible for getting everyone a hot cup of coffee. You’re also hired for the rest of the day. That alright with you?”

  “Sure is Mr. Claxton. Which way is the kitchen?” I pointed the way for him and Midori, and motioned for Everet to follow me.

  We went directly to the office. I laid the parcel on the side table next to ‘Emerald’. ‘Emerald, is the second system I keep in my office. She’s networked with ‘Saphire’, my main system, and ‘Ruby’, my communications and on-line system. They all have different specialized configurations, except for ‘Saphire’ actually, which has just about everything but the kitchen sink loaded. Hardware and software wise. So, I get to utilize the resources of all of them when I need to. Today looked like it was going to be one of those days.

  I pointed to ‘Emerald’, “I’m giving you free rein Everet. Set it up and then call me. I’ll be in the kitchen. I picked up the toolkit from the floor along the baseboards and handed it to him. He grinned like a maniac, took the tools from my hands and turned his back on me, getting on with the job.

  Seeing as how that appeared to be in hand, I headed for the kitchen. That turned out to be where the action was.

  Midori was engaged in a heated discussion of some sort with George when I walked in, and Billie had just finished pouring coffee for everyone. He had managed to find everything he needed for a full coffee service for five. Sugar bowl, cream jug, matching cups, matching spoons, tray, and napkins. On the side of the tray, he had placed a plate of Peek Freans Assorted Cookies. To top it all off, he had found one of the chefs’ aprons that Sarah keeps giving me at Christmas, and wrapped it around his middle with the top part folded under, like a short order cook. Tough guy style. I made a mental note to myself. This Billie was something else.

  As I walked in, Billie turned to me with a serious look and asked, “Are you having your coffee in the living room Mr. Claxton?”

  His white shirt was buttoned at the collar, the way I like to do, and his tone was respectful. I nodded, not letting on how I felt. It was a hoot. George and Midori hadn’t even broken their stride, conversationally speaking.

  “Yes Billie, I’ll be in the living room. So will George and Miss Kuwabara. Everet will take his in the study.” Billie raised one eyebrow, waiting for more. I oblig
ed him.

  “Just down the hallway, on the left. You can’t miss it.” I walked over and smacked George on the shoulder, then turned and walked away as he reacted. I heard his voice over my shoulder as I left the kitchen. “Jeff, what’s up?”

  Billie answered for me. “Coffee in the living room, sir.” He picked up his tray and walked out behind me. The best chair in the room was the black leather recliner beside the bookcase that held the stereo on the far wall. That’s where I sat. Billie came into the room and set the coffee service down on the table nearest the chair I was sitting in. He stood back and George came in with Midori. They were still talking. Midori was animated in her explanation of something. George was listening intently, with a tightly focused look on his face.

  “… so that way there can never be a substantial return above seven percent. The whole idea is to break down the components and achieve a diversified return in excess of what’s available in the local market.”

  The money market, I should have known. It was time to break into this. “The coffee is ready people. Grab a seat and a cup.”