by P. A. Wilson
Andy promised and then ended the call.
Monique stared at the phone and tried not to think about life without Didi. Life completely alone. Didi wasn’t exactly living in her back pocket, sometimes she didn’t see him for months, but he’d always been there. She checked the volume on the ringer to make sure she’d hear the call when it came. Putting the phone on the counter, she tried to clear her mind of the darkness Andy’s call had pushed her into.
Didi could take care of himself. He always had, and, despite his lifestyle, he’d survived some pretty bad shit. He was tougher than he looked, so he’d get through this. That’s what she should have told Andy. That Didi was a survivor.
She grabbed her phone and typed rapid detox into the search bar. She needed to know more about what could go wrong.
After following links for ten minutes, Monique was no further ahead. The information was vague. Maybe he was just reacting to the anesthetic. Maybe he was too weak to get better. And maybe Didi was in a coma. And he would wake up anytime…or never. There was nothing she could do about it, and she couldn’t go see him. It would be stupid to believe she could forget about Didi, but she might as well get back to her investigation.
She started to search for information on Serbian communities in Vancouver. The Colonel wouldn’t be stupid enough to identify himself within the community, if he was smart enough not to have his image on-line. Monique didn’t have much hope that she’d find him easily. What she hoped for was some hint as to where to look for clues.
What little information she could find seemed to link a lot of communities from Eastern Europe together. Vancouver was made up of many nationalities. While they eventually spread out over the whole Lower Mainland, most immigrant communities stayed together for a few years. Recently the preferred place for immigrants from the old Soviet states was within a few blocks of Monique’s apartment.
That information gave her a starting place. She could walk the neighborhood, discreetly. She turned off her phone and took it with her to bed. She needed to try to sleep through the incipient hangover, before getting started on her research.
CHAPTER 14
Despite Monique’s efforts at keeping the hangover at bay, it was a painful morning. She felt as though every hangover she’d missed over her life and crashed on her in one avalanche of dehydration and alcohol poisoning. Aspirin, water, and a few slices of toast helped make her feel like venturing out, but didn’t make her feel good.
The rain had been blown away in the night and it was one of those rare winter days in Vancouver, the air crisp and fresh. Snow frosting the mountains but not the streets. Monique had a walking tour booked in Chinatown, so she had to pull it together.
She didn’t have much hope of running into Vincent in Chinatown. It would be helpful if she could use the walk to get some information on The Colonel, she just didn’t know how. The old families weren’t the only people living in Chinatown. There were some new buildings around the edges where a sketchy element had moved in. Maybe she’d check them out later.
She had about two hours to search around the one neighborhood that did hold some hope. It was only ten blocks away, so it wasn’t worth driving and then trying to find parking. If she were lucky, the walk would clear the last of the fuzz from her head as well.
Wanting to be as unencumbered as possible, Monique took her phone, a handful of cash, and her keys with her. She looked at the cigarettes and lighter, and then swept them into a kitchen drawer. She wasn’t quite ready to throw them out, but if she didn’t have them with her, perhaps today could be the first day she didn’t have a cigarette.
Monique knew that giving up the habit wouldn’t help Didi recover, but it couldn’t hurt either.
Outside, the chill bit at her cheeks. She breathed in a lungful of icy air and blew it out before jamming her hands into the pockets of her winter jacket and heading north. The houses in her neighborhood were old, some restored, some badly renovated, and too many of them just crumbling away. It took her fifteen minutes of walking before she arrived in a triangular neighborhood formed where Kingsway curved east between Fraser and 12th.
The houses were tidy but shabby. No one was restoring homes on these streets like they were in other areas. Some of the yards had swing sets, and some were planted with vegetables – vegetable stumps and rotting leaves at this time of year. She hear a woman yelling at someone, the language sounded right, well, it sounded like Russian, or Polish. Monique wasn’t sure she would recognize the right language if she did hear it.
Now she was in the area, she realized that she had no plan, and it would look suspicious if she just walked along the streets. She pulled her phone out and pretended to check something on the screen. Her face flushed with embarrassment at the stupidity of her ruse. Monique decided it would be better to go get a coffee. If she had something to hold, it might be easier to fake a reason to be there. There had to be something on Kingsway. No Starbucks, they didn’t seem to want to be in this part of Vancouver, but there were a few independent cafes around.
Monique turned the corner and blinked at the noise and rush of traffic that felt foreign after the quiet of the side streets. The aroma of freshly roasted coffee beans drew her attention. She tracked it to a small coffee shop a block away. Monique hurried through the heavy door and joined the line waiting to order. The tables were filled with men talking loudly, laughing, and slapping shoulders. They looked alike enough to be related, wide faces, sharp cheekbones, brown hair, and blue eyes. She tried not to stare, but they weren’t paying attention anyway. They were focused on their conversations.
A slight nudge from behind made her move forward, but she could still see the men. The Colonel wasn’t among them, unless he’d had drastic cosmetic surgery, neither was Vincent. She couldn’t stay much longer, but this was definitely a good place to investigate later when she had more time.
“What can I get you?” A beautiful young woman behind the counter interrupted Monique’s thoughts.
“An Americano, please.” Monique handed a five-dollar bill to the cashier and dropped the change in the tip mug. Her drink took only a minute, and then she had no reason to stay.
Sipping the coffee, she smiled, it was excellent and fulfilled the promise the smell of roasting beans had made.
Two hours later, no further along in her search for the colonel, Monique waited for her tour group to gather. It was a mixed bunch, four employees of a design firm on a team building exercise, and a couple of single tickets. Team building exercises usually involved a barrage of questions in pursuit of some kind of prize. She would need to make sure that the two single ticket holders got enough of her attention that they felt as though they got their money’s worth.
The last straggler showed up as Monique was handing out the maps. “Okay everyone, we’ll head down to the gates to Chinatown and explore the historic sites. It won’t be a hard walk today. Are we ready?”
Everyone nodded. Monique pasted on her smile and led them out to the street. It was going to be interesting. The two single tickets were a young man who had startlingly blue eyes and four missing teeth, and another man, older, pale with black curly hair. He was giving off an intense vibe. He kept his eyes on her, even when she was talking to someone else.
Monique shrugged off the feeling of threat. He was probably just paying attention to her information and she was getting paranoid.
“Well, let’s get started. If you have any questions just call out and I’ll do my best to answer you.” No one asked anything as they passed through the ornate Millennium Gate, the entrance to Chinatown. She did notice that some of the young people were muttering as she spoke, as though they were repeating her speech. Weird, but not the weirdest group she’d encountered.
They got to the Sam Kee building. “So, when the City appropriated most of his land to build the street, Sam just built this anyway. The building is six feet wide, and the city’s bathing house was in the basement.”
“Miss,” the older man said. �
��I heard there was a lot of sweatshops in this area. Were there any people held prisoner under the city, in places like this?”
“There were some pretty bad times here, so yes, probably. I don’t know of any official stories about prisoners, or slaves, though I wouldn’t be surprised if there were things like that happening now. Times don’t change as much as we hope they do.” Monique ignored the chill that trickled down her spine and started walking to the next location. “If we could find out some information on that kind of history, I’m sure the company would start another tour. Would you be interested in something like Shameful Secrets of the City?”
He smiled. “Sure, why not.”
Monique led them deeper into Chinatown, and they visited a few of the import stores where the young women bought red fans, and the men bought blue embroidered slippers. When they stopped for a snack at the Keefer Bakery, where usually coconut buns were the most popular snack on the tour, the younger members all ate the egg tarts, something Monique found too greasy. She decided the team building part of the day was to complete a series of odd tasks. Too bad she didn’t know what they were. If the company had passed on that information, Melanie would have set up the tour to make it more challenging.
“Was there gang activity here?” It was the older guy again. This was the fifth time he’d asked about something like that. She’d have to let Melanie know that it might be a good idea to do a crime tour.
“Yes,” Monique answered. “Like most port cities, we have our share of gangs. Chinatown was not immune.” His questions were starting to bother her, but she shook it off. This guy didn’t have an accent so he was not likely to be related to the phone call.
They ended the tour outside the Walk in the Past office. Monique gave the sales talk about other tours available, and then the group dispersed. The team-building leader gave her a hundred dollar tip, the young guy grinned and handed her a five. The older guy glared at her and walked away.
Melanie, the owner of the tour company, offered Monique the opportunity to lead a second tour that had been booked that evening. “It’s a group of women on a happy divorce evening. They want to end up at the Police Museum, there’s a thing on there, an autopsy seminar or something. It’ll be an easy one. You know this stuff by heart and there’ll be some big tips. I’m pretty sure the women will already be tipsy by the time they arrive.”
“Sure, I’ll be back in half an hour, okay?” Monique needed a break to shake off the creepy feeling. The more she thought about it, the more she was sure the older guy wasn’t on the tour to learn about the history of Chinatown.
There was a Waves Coffee House a few blocks away. She wanted to call Andy because it felt like Didi was punishing her by keeping silent. He must have come out of the detox by now. Even if he’d told Andy not to call, she could find out if he was okay.
And maybe she could call the police and find out if there was any headway on the murders, or the threatening call. Or maybe her conscience was pricking her to tell them about the damn picture.
She settled down at a table in the window to watch the activity on the street while she called. Until she found The Colonel, she was going to make sure she had the best view whenever she could. Vancouver was more like a small town than a city. Eventually you’d run into someone you were looking for if you were patient. She wanted to make sure that she wasn’t surprised by someone seeing her first. After all, if the call had come from The Colonel, he knew what she looked like. He probably felt safe in his anonymity, so the picture gave her a slight advantage.
Monique picked at a blueberry scone as she watched the action on the street putting off the calls until she felt ready to hear the news, good or bad from either source. There was a mix of business people, tourists, residents, and drug dealers to observe. The residents were young and hip, or old and poor, the tourists had the deer-in-the-headlights look of someone who had taken a wrong turn and weren’t sure they were safe any longer. The drug dealers mostly just stood around on the corner in groups.
She dialed Andy’s number first. If he had news, it would stop her worrying about Didi, and maybe it would help her lose some of the other stress at the same time. His voice mail came on. No news was the least desirable option.
“Hi, Andy, I know you said you would call, but I’m worried. I don’t care if you have nothing to tell, please let me know what’s going on. Thanks.”
The scone was suddenly too dry to swallow, even with a mouthful of her coffee. Monique rubbed her eyes, feeling tears push and not wanting them to fall in public. Crying wasn’t going to help Didi, and it had never helped her. She wrapped the scone in a napkin. There would be someone on the street who needed the calories more than she did.
When she had her emotions under control, she called Detective Adams.
“Adams.”
It was a relief to get him. She didn’t feel like playing games with Detective Watson. Adams at least played good cop well. “It’s Monique Duchesne. I was hoping you had some information on that call I got.”
“We haven’t heard back from Telus about the call logs. Have you had any other incidents?”
Should she tell him about the creep? There was really nothing concrete. Just like everything in this case. Until she made some connection, it could all be in her imagination. Maybe the guy was researching a book, or just interested in weird things. The ice she could feel in her bones said it was a warning, and not just a coincidence. “Not really,” she said finally, hedging her bets. “I’m just jumpy and I’m having trouble sleeping. It’s not great thinking I’m going to be the next body you find bleeding out.”
“I don’t think it will come to that, Ms. Duchesne.”
Irritation made her ask, “Why? If you have a good reason for me to stop worrying, I’m happy to hear it. I could use one less problem to deal with.”
“No need to get upset. We don’t think you have to worry because this guy’s MO doesn’t seem to be, make threats, and then wait. If he wanted you dead, you’d be dead, and we’d know about it. This guy isn’t hiding his victims.”
Did that make her feel better? Not really. How did they know that Vincent, or The Colonel, hadn’t warned Alexi, or Snake, or even the last guy to end up dead in the apartment? “Will you let me know if you find out who called?”
“We’ll call you in to identify his voice if we get enough information to arrest someone. But I wouldn’t hold out too much hope. These guys use toss away phones. I would be very surprised if we could find him from the call.”
“My tax dollar at work.” Monique regretted her tone as soon as the words were out. “I’m sorry; I shouldn’t take this out on you.”
“Don’t sweat it. You need to let us know if something changes. If you get another call, or someone suspicious is hanging around.”
Monique opened her mouth to tell him about the creepy guy. The words wouldn’t come out. When it came down to it, she didn’t trust the cops. She knew that’s why she’d been hanging onto the information. It wasn’t because she couldn’t think of a good lie about her visit to the apartment. She would rather put herself in danger than trust the cops to do their job. “No, nothing has changed.” She ended the call.
Monique checked her phone for the time. It had been ten minutes since she sat down. She hated this feeling of hanging around waiting. She was waiting for news about Didi, waiting to hear from the cops about Snake’s killer, and waiting for the next move from the person who threatened her.
She couldn’t do anything about Didi, and she knew he was safe with Andy. She had to believe that. She could continue to look for The Colonel, but he was like a needle in a stack of needles right now. One thing she could do was find out about the creepy guy on the tour.
Melanie would have his registration form. It was only a matter of getting her hands on it. Melanie might not want give her a client’s private information, but if Monique offered to watch the office and give Melanie a break, she could easily find what she needed.
She put her
empty mug on the counter and left. A teenager was huddled in a doorway in the next block. She handed him the scone and walked back to the office to prepare for her next tour, and get the information she needed on the creep.
When Monique arrived back at the office, Melanie was on the phone so she couldn’t just start sorting through the paperwork. It was only fifteen minutes until the divorce party was set to arrive and Monique knew that if she didn’t get a chance to see the registration form now, she might never get to. This would be the last tour of the day. At the end of her shift, her job was to toss her time sheet through the mail slot and go home. Melanie would have put the receipts in the safe by the morning.
“’Kay, bye.” Melanie hung up the phone after a few minutes. “Wow, I don’t know what happened in the universe, but I’ve been taking calls all night for bookings. I guess this time the brochures we got into the hotels are really doing their job.”
Monique pasted a big smile on her face. “That’s great. Do you need any help? I can file or something until the tour arrives.” It sounded so obvious to her ears, but maybe that was because she knew why she was offering.
“You don’t need to do that, Monique,” Melanie said. “I can take care of it tomorrow.”
Monique wasn’t going to give up that easily. “I have nothing else to do. How about I get you a coffee?”
“I’ll never get to sleep if I take in any caffeine now.” Melanie glanced at the front door. “Could you cover for a couple of minutes while I run to the little girl’s room?”
“Sure. I can just take a message if someone calls, right?”
Melanie gestured toward a locked drawer. “Yeah, I’ll be back before anyone needs to get into the cash. Thanks, Monique. If this keeps up, I’m going to have to hire someone to help with registrations. Back in a minute.”
Monique nodded and leaned casually on the counter. Her every move felt like she was telegraphing her intentions.