by P. A. Wilson
“Yeah, but it’s good money. Didi was thinking of getting into it. I haven’t seen him either.” Celeste was getting twitchy, her gaze roaming the room and flashing back to the door whenever someone came through.
“Didi’s getting clean,” Monique said, hoping it was true.
Celeste finished her drink and slid around the bench to leave. “Good luck to him. Drugs are a crap way to live your life, right? Look, if Snake comes around let him know I was looking for him, okay?”
Monique couldn’t let Celeste go without telling her about Snake. It was going to hurt the girl, but it would hurt no matter when she learned the truth. “Celeste, I should have told you this already, but Snake is dead. He was killed last night. I’m sorry.”
The girl slumped, her hands rubbing at her face. Monique saw tears slip through the gap between her fingers. “I knew he was getting in too deep. I told him to stop.” She straightened and wiped her face with her sleeve. “I guess it was inevitable. Any idea who did it?” She picked up her glass and looked for more drink in the bottom.
Monique knew enough about grief to know Celeste was denying her feelings by trying to be cool. They’d hit hard soon. But then maybe Celeste knew that, and just wanted to be alone when she broke down. “A guy named Vincent.”
Celeste rattled the ice, clearly hinting that Monique owed her a drink. Monique didn’t bite.
Shrugging, Celeste answered, “Never heard of him.”
“Do you know who Snake was working for?” Monique wanted to comfort the girl, but didn’t know how, and Celeste seemed to have taken control of herself.
“He wouldn’t tell me. I guess he wanted to protect me.” She jumped out of her seat. “I gotta go. Tell Didi I hope he gets straight. I’m out of here. I’m going home to Manitoba. I can’t deal with this shit.” She hurried out of the club.
Monique felt like crap, as if she had driven Celeste away. She knew it wasn’t her fault that Snake had stepped over the line. But her relief that Didi hadn’t jumped on this job with Snake was tainted with regret for the dead man.
She was still stuck. She had no idea what her next step in finding the Colonel was.
Didi hadn’t called her, and neither had Andy. Tess was somewhere out of the club. Everyone had something better to do with their time than stumble around guessing about war criminals and murderers.
She didn’t feel like singing, so no reason to stay sober. Leaving the booth, she went to sit at the bar again. Tess hated it when seating for two was taken by one person. Hitching herself on the last stool at the far side of the bar, Monique ordered a shot of Don Patron and sat back to enjoy the show.
Two shots later, Monique suddenly had a reason to stay sober. Vincent had come into the club. He looked around and then joined the other sole patrons at the bar. He took the last stool at the other end from Monique, and ordered a beer. From where he sat, he could see the stage, but Monique was out of his line of sight.
She watched him as he scanned the room. He must have been waiting for someone. He didn’t seem too worried that the person was late. Monique wondered if Vincent was waiting for the Colonel. Perhaps she’d get lucky and be able to hand this over to the police tonight. Or were war criminals the RCMP’s jurisdiction? No matter, she had Detective Adams’ phone number and the cops could sort out the jurisdiction.
“Do you want anything else, Monique?” Todd, tonight’s bartender, interrupted her train of thought.
“No, just put the shots on my tab, and I’ll stick with water for the rest of the night, thanks.” There was no way she was going to muddy her brain at this point. This Vincent guy was dangerous, but she was going to keep an eye on him, no matter what happened.
Vincent finished his beer and threw a bill on the bar. Monique grabbed her purse, reached in, and turned her phone to silent, so she didn’t have to worry it about ringing and giving her away when she followed him. He didn’t move. Monique felt like she was holding her breath. Had Vincent come for the singers? Had this become the place for criminals to hang out? She’d have to let Tess know who was coming in, so she could put an end to it.
Vincent checked his watch and stood.
Monique stayed where she was.
He turned to leave and made it through the, now crowded, entrance before she moved. Knowing how quickly she’d lost him last time, she wanted to be close enough to follow, but not so close that he would notice she was there.
When Monique got through the door, she saw Vincent crossing the intersection and heading downhill. Unless he was headed to a parked car, he was going downtown. It was only a dozen or so blocks from The Blue Scene to the Downtown Eastside. That was the perfect place for a war criminal to hide out, as long as he didn’t want a luxurious lifestyle. Monique bent to light a cigarette then slowly followed Vincent.
Monique talked herself off the edge of panic. She was just another person walking while she smoked. Nothing of interest here. She kept her gaze aimed at the wet sidewalk a few feet in front of her, just like anyone who was out for a walk at night. Every few steps she flicked her glance up to make sure Vincent was still there.
After a few blocks, Vincent turned into a side street. Monique hurried to catch up. If he entered one of the old buildings, she’d never figure out which one. Too many of them were business offices, or lofts above stores, so few of them had lighted showrooms that would display the people inside. None of them would be likely to have an unlocked door if she had to step off the street.
She turned the corner and saw him. She also saw that the street ended only two blocks in from Main. And there was only one building that might be apartments, where she could pretend to be visiting someone.
Monique went cold. She was about to be caught. Wherever Vincent went, he’d see she wasn’t going anywhere legitimate. He’d know she was following. And she realized it was going to look even more suspicious if she turned on her heel and left the street. The only thing she could do was brave it out, and hope to survive.
Vincent stopped beside a black Audi before turning and looking right at her. Monique ignored his dead eyes and kept walking. She told herself that’s what women did when they were on a street at night and a strange man looked at them. Her heart was working so hard she expected it to rattle her body.
She was getting closer to Vincent, and the end of the street was only a half block away. There was light coming from the lobby of the last building. Maybe there was a party. She just kept walking, eyes focused straight ahead.
She saw Vincent reach for the door handle and slide into the driver’s seat. The engine purred and the headlights came on. He pulled the car away from the curb and drove out to Main Street.
Monique slowed and bent to light another cigarette to hide the fact she was looking at the license plate. It was partially obscured, but she got one of the letters and all three numbers, A731. That was something she could give to the cops, and not have to worry about explaining herself. They would find the car, and if not The Colonel, at least Vincent could be taken off the street. Maybe there would be time to let Celeste know Snake’s killer had been arrested before she went back east.
Monique reached the end of the street. There was a party going on in the last building. She looked over her shoulder and saw that Vincent had gone. Relieved because she wasn’t in the party mood, Monique turned back toward the lights of Main Street. She just wanted to get home and call the cops. And call Andy again to find out if Didi was done. If he was clean. To think about what her brother would need from her to stay clean. How she would keep him in her life despite what Rafe predicted.
CHAPTER 12
Monique tossed her keys on the kitchen counter and continued to the living room, opening the window and leaning out. The walk home had been fast, and she’d felt eyes on her back the entire way. Now she was in her apartment, a sense of safety folded over her. Maybe it was false safely, but it was comforting. At least now, she could make the calls without feeling like she was being watched. She lit a cigarette and pulled
her phone out of her pocket.
Looking at the back of the card Detective Adams had given her. Monique saw three numbers, a direct line, cell phone, and emergency. It wasn’t exactly an emergency. She dialed the direct line, hoping that meant someone would pick up even if Detective Adams wasn’t there.
“Detective Watson.”
She held the phone out and checked the number she’d dialed. “I thought this was Detective Adams’ number.” She didn’t want to talk to Watson. He was too good at getting her guard down.
“Yeah. He’s not here right now. Who is this?”
She pushed aside her dislike for the man, knowing he would be following up anyway. “Monique Duchesne. I saw the guy who killed Snake tonight.”
“Where? I hope you haven’t gone looking for him. Ms. Duchesne, this man is dangerous. Please stay away from this case.”
Monique smiled. If only life were that simple.
If she could be sure the cops were going to investigate, if she knew Didi had no connection, or if the case didn’t keep coming at her, she would happily stay away. “I’ll do my best. I have a license plate, at least most of it.” She gave him the information.
“I’ll see if we can get an identification from that, but I doubt he used a car that was registered to him. Is there anything else?”
Monique couldn’t think of a legitimate way to explain her knowledge that a Serbian war criminal was involved. Yes, I broke into your crime scene and found evidence that I didn’t call you about, didn’t seem like the smartest thing to say. “No, that’s all.”
“Okay, we’ll follow up. Stay away from this, Ms. Duchesne. I would hate to be looking for your killer too.”
Monique said she would and hung up. Somehow, his assurance they would follow up didn’t make her feel better.
She ignored the little voice that told her the call had been a waste of time, and leaned against the windowsill before dialing Andy’s number. Maybe there would be some good news about Didi. It had been almost a whole day.
“Hello?”
“Andy?”
“Yeah, who’s this?”
“Didi’s sister. I was hoping for an update on his progress.” She held her breath, sure that the news wouldn’t be good. That Didi had bailed.
“He’s still under, Monique. They delayed the start. He’ll be under for another two or three hours.”
“So there will be news around one? You can call me. I’ll be awake.”
Andy didn’t respond. The pause went on long enough that Monique spoke again, “You can call me, even if Didi is still mad at me. The addiction caused the fight. It’s happened before. I know I should have given him a break, but...”
“I know, Monique. It’s not that. Even without the drugs, you and Didi were always fighting and then getting over it right away. That seems to be how you love each other. It’s just that I don’t know what Didi told you about this treatment.”
Monique took a breath. “I know it’s just going to get rid of the drugs in his system. We’ll have to work on the addiction.”
“Yeah, that’s true. Well, true enough, Didi will have to work on the addiction, Monique. You need to let him do it.”
“He’ll need my help.” She wasn’t going to let Didi do this alone, no matter what Andy said.
“Yes, you can help him. You can support him. That’s not the problem. You need to let him take control of the process. You need to let him grow up.”
“I don’t know if he can…”
“Maybe you should let him try.”
“Maybe,” Monique said. If she didn’t argue with Andy, he couldn’t keep pushing on this.
Andy sighed. “Fine, we’ll talk about it later. Since you didn’t mention it, I guess Didi didn’t tell you about the potential downside.”
Trust Didi to leave out any problems. Looking at only what he wanted to see had been his trouble all his life. “No, I guess I should have looked it up. How bad could it get?”
“Most of the time it works fine. The problem is Didi won’t feel the withdrawal because he’s under anesthetic, but his body will. He’s been an addict a long time. His body isn’t in great shape. We think he’ll be okay, but I might be calling with bad news.”
Monique’s stomach contracted. Didi was all the family she had. The drugs had been bad enough, but she’d never considered he’d die. She realized how naive that had been. Addicts died all the time, if not from overdoses, from bad heroin. “Let’s hope not. I want the call anyway. I need to know. Please, tell me you’ll call.”
“Okay, I promise. I’ll call even if he tells me not to. He’ll be weak, but maybe you can visit him tomorrow.”
“Where’s he staying afterward? He can come here if he needs to.”
“He’s staying with me. I’ll take care of him, Monique. I want him clean too.”
Monique wondered how many other friends Didi had kept up with from their past. She’d slipped away from that world, tired of the sympathetic looks, and feeling like she had to prove she wouldn’t just lash out and kill someone. “Thanks, Andy. I don’t know why Didi deserves this, but thanks.”
“Monique, I thought you knew. Um, Didi and I, we’re together. We’re a couple.”
Tears formed in her eyes, not sure if they were about being happy that Didi had found someone who cared that much, or jealousy that her brother was emotionally healthier than she was, despite the addiction. She blinked away the tears and swallowed to loosen her throat. “I’m glad. Thanks for telling me. I have to go, Andy. Please call me either way.”
“I will, you take care.”
Monique crawled into bed. After the call from Andy, she told herself to let everyone else take care of things. Her exhaustion drew her into sleep until almost noon. There was no message from Andy when she woke, but she didn’t worry. She told herself that Didi was safe with him.
She filled her day with cleaning and grocery shopping. As she did Didi’s laundry, it occurred to her that it was weird that he’d dropped this off with her. That he didn’t leave it with Andy. Then again, with what he’d told her about how low he’d sunk, it made all kinds of Didi sense.
Eventually bored with housework, and not feeling like cooking even though she’d filled her fridge and cupboards, she went to the club to warm up her voice. She’d eat later. Singing on a full stomach didn’t always work anyway.
She chatted with Ray and Wes, until it was time to go on stage. “Why don’t we have some fun with it tonight? Let’s start with that new version of Over the Rainbow, and then you can surprise me with the rest.”
“Girl, we can play stump the band if you want. Tess loves it when we get the audience involved,” Ray said.
Monique laughed, amazed at the difference between her feelings yesterday and today. Handing over her problems to the police had lifted a weight from her.
The set went well, the audience managed to stump Ray and Monique twice which always made for a great night. The new girl, Maisie, was getting her shot with a set right after theirs. Ray and the guys stayed on stage to accompany her. Monique took a glass of soda water to the lounge with her and decided not to have a smoke. If Didi could kick his habit, she’d try to give up cigarettes. She wasn’t looking forward to her own withdrawal symptoms, but it would have to happen eventually, it might as well be now.
Barry walked in behind her. “Monique, there’s a call for you.” He handed her the handset for the club phone. It was unusual, but not rare, for artists to get calls to the club. Fans wanted to talk to their favorites occasionally, and no one gave out their personal contact information to potentially crazy fans.
“Hello?” Monique lowered herself into the couch.
“You are the singer?” Monique froze, barely able to breath. It was a man, unfamiliar voice, but he had an Eastern European accent. Vincent? The Colonel?
She didn’t answer. Mostly because she couldn’t force any air through her lungs.
“I take that as yes. I have for you a warning. Stay away from things y
ou don't understand.”
“Who is this?” Monique hated the quaver in her voice.
“You don’t know me. If you did, you would be dead soon.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. Why did you call me.?”
“Someone tells me you are asking questions. These are answers you do not want. Go back to singing. Your voice is very good. It would be a pity to lose it, yes?”
Monique ended the call. He was trying to scare her off, and it had worked. There was no need to listen to any more. She wanted to throw up, run home, call the police, or faint. She couldn’t do any of that.
Screw quitting, she pulled her cigarettes out and reached into the drawer where Ali kept a bottle of cheap whiskey. He’d forgive her, and she’d replace it. Pouring a good shot into her soda water Monique headed for the back alley.
When she got there, she told herself not to think about Snake getting killed. It had to be okay for her to come out and smoke – at least until she could quit. She lit up and took a deep drag, the nicotine flooding her with a zing of pleasure before it calmed her enough that she could figure out what to do.
Regardless of whether it was the Colonel, or Vincent, or someone else, she was busted. She had to tell the police. She had to stop investigating on her own. As she thought about leaving the investigation to the police, a flash of memory stopped her. Snake, gasping out his last breath in her presence. Her mother doing the same thing.
The fear ebbed leaving a growing heat of fury in her heart.
There was no way she could trust that she would be safe if she stopped searching for the killer. If she let the cops take care of it, she would never know when the next death would happen, never know if she was safe. The fact that someone had called her, said she wasn’t safe now. And just because he hadn’t threatened anyone but her, didn’t mean that Didi wouldn’t be a target if they found out about him.
Monique lit a second cigarette with the stub of her first, throwing the finished one into a puddle, and hearing a satisfying hiss as it was extinguished. The glass in her hand was losing its ice. She swallowed half the contents between drags on the cigarette. The combination of nicotine and alcohol made her dizzy at first. When that faded, she was left with a clarity that shoved away all the worries.