Just then the national anthem began to play and everyone was rising for it. We did the same. When we were sitting back down at the end, I motioned to George. He caught my nod right away, so he must have been watching non-stop. As George made his way down to our seats the players took their places on the field. And I told Therese about George. At first, she was nervous, but when I explained the family connection, she calmed down again. The last thing I asked her as George was making his way to our seats was the loaded question. “Therese, why did you call me, and not the police, what is it that made you afraid? And what information do you have that you think will help sort this out?”
She answered in a concise manner. “I knew that John was up to something strange. I mean not like the business of the bank each day, yes? When he was killed just like that, I knew it was for this reason. Wanting too much, and his brother, trouble, all the time. This time it was the last time. I knew. I called the hotel, where he lived. They want me to tell them where he is, he didn’t come back to pay his bill. I looked through John’s’ book, and I found a number for his brother, in Amsterdam. At the Hilton Hotel. I called, they said the same thing, where he didn’t pay the bill, no one knows anything. That’s when I got scared. And the only thing I can tell you is what he said to me one day. I came home, and he was drinking. It was not even time for drinking, comment dis-tu? The hour of cocktails?” I just nodded. The crowd roared as one of the Jay’s hit a good one. I glanced up. It looked like a double, but it ended up forced into a triple. When the cheering died down Therese resumed.
“He was so proud and happy, he showed me this big… tank, yes? A tank for the fish. But the fish is not pretty, it is so ugly,” She made a little face and shivered at the same time. “He said, there’s our future mon petit chou, the Amazon is our freedom.” She blushed a little saying that. Then started to get teary, but she put a hold on it and continued. Amazing. “He drinks too much that day, before I come home, for sure, and I put him into bed. He sleeps until the morning, and no more talk about the Amazon. That’s it, c’est tout.”
George had been waiting until the talking stopped, just standing next to us in the aisle. I nodded at him again, and he sat down. I made introductions and we agreed to let George take charge. She got up tiredly when George did, ready to follow him up the stairs. Cynthia gave me a look. “What?”
“You’re not going to go with her? After she chose you to help?” I shifted a bit in my seat.
“Well… I’ll get a chance to talk to her again later. When I drop you off at home, I’ll meet up with George and see her then.” She gave a funny look.
“Well, tell her that you’re coming with her right now, because I can see this important, and the poor woman is scared half to death. I’ll get a cab home. We’ll talk later, when you’ve finished your work.” She said it with such a finality, that I couldn’t help but take her at face value.
“You really think she’s that scared?”
“Yes. There’s something dreadful going on, and she chose you, right?”
Okay, but if you sit and watch the game for about twenty minutes, I’ll have a driver out front for you…” She stopped me there, I’m a big girl, I’ll make it home, you just get going.” She made shooing motions with both hands, and smiled at me.
“You’re really something kid. I’ll call as soon as I can, even if it’s late. Deal?”
“Deal.”
I got up and followed behind them. When we got to the top, George turned to me and said I’ll go with you in the van, and the boys can follow. I nodded, and we headed for the parking spot. It only took about five minutes going back, as the crowds were all inside, and we walked fast. George talked on his ‘cell while we walked, updating the guys.
Once we got to the van and settled in, I got us underway. According to George, we were headed for the west side of Mississauga, about fifty klicks away. I checked the gas gauge and took on on-ramp to the QEW. When we were on the highway, then I could spot the boys following. One in George’s car, and two in the unmarked Caprice following them. While I drove we all talked. The story stayed the same, and the puzzle was not unraveled, the plot was not revealed. After a bit I let George and Therese talk, and I just drove. I kept thinking about the key word. Amazon. Then it hit me. I interrupted them se vehemently, I think I scared Therese.
“Whoa. Sorry Therese, I just thought of something. What ugly fish? Remember, you said there was a new fish tank, with an ugly fish? What kind of ugly fish? Why was it ugly?” Therese frowned. George frowned harder, and he spoke first.
“What fish?”
I looked at Therese. “Therese, tell George about the fish, Okay? George, it’s the fish. That’s the key. The fish.”
George looked at me like I was bonkers. Then Therese started talking about the fish. It was too fast even for me, and my French is pretty good, considering I’d grown up in the world’s second largest French city. That’s one of the things I love about George, he’s no dummy. Altogether, he probably spoke about half as many languages as the Pope, which is somewhere in the high twenties if I recall correctly.
About ten minutes later, George sat back with a smile on his face and said, “Got it.”
I waited. About thirty seconds went by. I studied the highway. George sat smugly in his seat. Finally, Therese reached from the middle seat and slapped him on the arm, gesturing with the other hand. He gave in.
“So, it’s a Piranha.”
I drove down the highway, thinking.
“So what? What does that mean, it’s a Piranha?”
“It’s a Piranha. That’s what it means. You said ‘What ugly fish? The fish is the key’, so, it’s a Piranha.”
“Okay, I’ll accept that.” I thought some more. Something else occurred to me. “Craine, the guy you think is so sharp. What did he have to say about the fish.”
George thought about that for a couple of minutes before answering. “It was noted that there was a fish tank in the apartment. But nothing about the fish. Which would mean that there probably wasn’t any fish in the tank when Craine checked the apartment out.”
“So a professional tosses the place… which means, by the way Therese, that you’re not crazy. It most likely is dangerous for you right now… anyway, a pro goes over the place top to bottom, and the only physical evidence result we have is that he took a Piranha with him when he left. It’s no wonder we’re confused. The bad guys are nuts. What about we go over there ourselves and take a look at the tank?”
George gave me look. Sort of a ‘Grow Up’ look. “Don’t be ridiculous, that’s why we have a forensics department.” He pulled his ‘cell phone out of his pocket and made a quick call. We’d know soon enough if there was anything there.
We were quickly approaching our exit. The traffic had been negligible and we’d made good time. I turned off the QEW a few minutes later at Winston Churchill Blvd., and at George’s direction headed north. We ended up in a brand-new subdivision, just about five klicks from the highway.
The garage door opened up as we pulled into the driveway, and one of George’s people was there on the inside. The garage was big, with room for all three vehicles. It could hold four actually. It was normal on the front end, but it was a double depth at the back end. I parked on the left, and George motioned us to stay put. Within ninety seconds the other two cars, including George’s, pulled in behind. George got out and made sure they both parked on the right. Then the door closed. Therese and I got out of the van then, and followed the troops as we all went inside. McMurtry and his pal seemed to know where to go, and what to do. We were no sooner inside than they were gone. George led us through to the living room, and we all sat down. The place was newly furnished as well as being newly built. The furnishings were minimal though, but functional. The next thing I knew, a woman who looked to be about sixty or so, dressed like a grandma straight out of ‘Eight Is Enough’, interrupted while baking a pie or something, apron and all, walks out of the kitchen with a full tray of tea and
sandwiches, puts them down on the coffee table and leaves again.
Therese and I were seated on the couch together. Fake French Provincial. George was in one of the matching chairs. He got up and spoke to Therese. “Go ahead and have something if you’re hungry. This house is a safe place for you. You can stay here while the issues are being resolved. Until you’re safe. I have to go and talk to the officer in charge, I’ll be back shortly.” He went out the same door grandma had, presumably to the kitchen.
I spent some time talking with Therese, about twenty minutes or so, but nothing else of any importance seemed to come out of it.
Therese seemed to be really in need of a good night’s sleep, and she finally said she felt tired. I asked her where she had parked the Jaguar, and she said she had driven it back to the cottage, and taken a local taxi into the city. I asked her when she had eaten last, and since she couldn’t remember, I made sure she ate some of the sandwiches.
When George came back nodded in my direction, and left again. I followed him through the doorway, and it did lead to the kitchen. There was a plainclothes officer on duty at the back door, and I assumed the front as well. There was a lunch counter running across half the room, with stools that tucked underneath the overhang. We sat down and went over our next move. George went first.
“She’ll be comfortable here. In the meantime, we need to make some progress. It’s a big disappointment that she didn’t have what we were looking for, some physical evidence, but that’s the way it goes. What do you think about this fish thing?”
“It’s the pivotal point in what she has to tell us, or it seems to be. Maybe I’m just making a mountain out of a molehill. Seeing something I want to see, when there’s really nothing there. What about you?”
“Fergie grumbled, but even if he doesn’t want to admit it, this case has gotten him interested. The dart, remember? Anyway, I expect he’s moving quickly and we should have some preliminary results back within the hour. We’ll see then.”
“Within the hour? That’ll be a first. You complain about that guy all the time.”
“Yeah, but like I said, he’s interested in this one. The missing Piranha angle got him all worked up.”
“Right, what about Midori? What did you tell her? I thought she wanted to see Therese herself.”
“I told her I would pick her up on the way down to the SkyDome and to wait for my call.”
“You outright lied to her?”
“Yup.”
“Great, she’ll probably be at my place, waiting to pounce as soon as I get there.”
“Probably.”
“Right. Maybe there’s something about this Amazon choufleur thing that I missed on the bank system. I could go over that one more time. Or some other connection that I just can’t put together right now. I’ll dwell on it. What about Dawson being on the loose? Can that avenue be explored further?”
“Being done as we speak. All we can do on that one is wait for cooperative efforts on the other side of the big pond to pay off, or fly over there and have a look for ourselves.”
“A look for ourselves hmm… you’ve given this some thought I see.”
“A modicum.”
“Might be worthwhile, I have to agree with that. The potential chance to get our hands on Dawson, however slim, would be worth the effort.”
George smiled. “I’m glad you feel that way, because I can’t go, so it’s over to you. Your flight leaves at 7:30 AM, from Pearson, terminal three, tomorrow.” He reached into his inside suit pocket and pulled out the ticket and handed it over to me. The hotel is booked, and this envelope,” He reached across the countertop to pick up a large manila envelope, “contains the contact names in the Zurich Police, and Interpol, which happens to have a central office in Zurich, the bank being used in Zurich to transfer the money from the Toronto account, plus a copy of my notes on the various points we’ve managed to uncover, as well as all of your reservation confirmation numbers. Give me a call in about an hour or so, I might have an update on the fish tank.”
“Swell.” I took the envelope and put the airline tickets inside. “Is the return open?”
“Nope. You’ve got forty-eight hours or so on Swiss soil, that’s it. Officially. If you go over that limit, you end up on your own. Not good.”
“Is that a financial restriction imposed by the department?”
“No, unfortunately that’s the limit of my favours. That’s the most I could pull. So, when I say you’ll be on your own, I mean it. If you don’t manage to get the job done in forty-eight hours, they’ll want to be waving you goodbye as the plane takes off back to Toronto.”
“I see.”
“Yes.”
“Aright, I’m off then. I’ll call back in about an hour.”
George and I shook hands and I left.
The drive home was a mess, it was 3:45 PM, and the traffic was getting pretty heavy. About five years back the Council of Mayors for the Greater Toronto Area had passed a bill stating that the official rush-hour in Toronto had been extended on both ends to a grand total of three hours, from 3:30 to 6:30 PM. It was valid, but it took a further three years before they could make up their minds to do something about it, like start building a new east-west highway, just north of the notorious Highway 401. Which was where I was sitting twiddling my thumbs at the moment. Four collector lanes, and four express lanes, all headed east at a crawl. Ditto for the west-bound. Occasionally, like now when I didn’t have much else to do, I would muse on this fact. Sixteen lanes of vehicles, as far as the eye could see, literally stopped, in both directions. Ain’t life a gas. You can see everything you could imagine, and more, on the 401. If you drove it often enough. One night, about nine o’clock I saw a guy in a little red Toyota driving down the 401 doing at least 120 km/hr., watching TV. He had this TV mounted on the dash, and it was on some talk program or other, because I saw the host/guest format through his back window as he passed me. He passed fairly slowly, as I was running at almost the same speed, quite common on the 401. It’s actually the unwritten posted speed for the fast lane. The signs said 100 km/hr., but the 401 was almost lawless. Anyway, the guy with the TV wouldn’t have been such a big deal, except there were no passengers, so it was definitely the driver who was watching the show. Go figure. The way traffic was just now, east-bound out by the airport, I could have used a TV.
The sky of course was a lovely blanket of grey, from horizon to horizon, but at least the cloud ceiling was fairly high compared to the last couple of days, when it seemed as if the clouds were sitting on top of the van as I drove around town. The Eskimo people had it sassed. They knew how to determine the state of the environment on any particular day, or even any particular moment. They had over one hundred words for snow alone, never mind the sky that went with it. I think I was starting to get bored. The car in front of me was given the opportunity to pull ahead another twenty feet, and so passing the opportunity right back to me. I obliged by taking my foot off the brakes for a moment. Then I stopped again. This was such fun.
My thoughts were wandering around the various points of the puzzle this case had become, and then I realized I was thinking about Cynthia, not the case. Jean, she had said. Call me Jean, but not Jeanie. Not until you see me do magic. What was that? This, this was an issue to while away the hours. The pull got stronger all of a sudden.
Leaning over in my seat I reached into my right front jeans pocket. My fingers encountered crumpled paper. Yes! Pulling it out without ripping it involved more leaning and scrunching, all the while watching the car in front, and pulling ahead twenty feet at a time every thirty seconds or so. Being tall does have a few disadvantages. Accessing your front pockets while securely belted in and driving down the highway was one of them. After getting the damn paper out, it took a few minutes of dividing my eyes between the road and trying to smooth out the paper so I could read the number. Finally, I locked the number in my mind, and tossed the paper onto the passenger seat. I punched the buttons on the hand
s-free keypad, and the ring of a telephone came through the speaker hidden under the dash.
The Diamond Dust on Dragonfly Wings: A Jeffry Claxton Mystery Novel Page 17