The Filthy Few: A Steve Nastos Mystery

by Richard Cain

  Monika rested her glass on the top of the piano. Josie sat on the bench and Monika joined her. Viktor had a piano tuner in once every few months. Monika pressed the pedals, played gently on a few keys, sounding out a few chords and progressions. She found the piano in perfect tune. The action on the keys was balanced and the pedals were smooth with measured tension.

  She started quietly at first, getting the melody. Josie was excited but there was no way she would have known the song. Styles played and sang Sarah McLachlan’s “I Will Remember You.” No microphone, no synthesizer, no warm-up. Maybe out of nervousness, she sang most of it to Josie, who wouldn’t understand the lyrics but might understand the non-verbal message. Monika was giving all of her attention in an intimate way and Josie was enraptured. By the time she finished the song there wasn’t a single clink from cutlery in the restaurant. No one was moving. The wait staff sat silently at the bar, the busboy stood still with a white bin full of clean glasses in the threshold between the kitchen and the seating area.

  Hopkins said “That was beautiful” to no one in particular.

  Mills took a slug of his beer. “It’s personal to her. Her mom taught her. Playing in public was a big step for her, so I hope you mention something if you get a chance.”

  Styles stood to reach her glass of wine and someone at front called out, “Play one more.”

  She sang two more songs, but it was the line in “I Will Remember You,” about not being able to sleep and having feelings too deep to express in words, that Nastos had found himself singing along to. He fell silent afterward, feeling something about it resonate with him.

  She stood from the table, blushing at the applause, one hand squeezing Josie’s and the other wrapped around her now-empty glass of wine. She walked back to the table and sat down next to Nastos, Josie still glued to her.

  “Dad, did you hear that?”

  Nastos moved a chair back for Josie, who slid onto the chair and cuddled up next to him. To Styles, he said, “I’ve never in my life seen anyone just get up and do a performance of that quality. Do you practice twelve hours a day or are you just that good?”

  “It wasn’t anything special.”

  “Yeah, whatever,” Carscadden said. “Next time take a tip jar.”

  Josie’s eyes brightened and Nastos turned to see Viktor walking up behind him.

  “Uncle Viktor, did you hear Monika?” Josie jumped to her feet and ran around the table to give him a hug.

  He crouched down, swooping her up. “Yeah, she should come here and play more often.” To Monika he said, “Let me know if you ever want to come back, we’ll put you on the payroll.” Before she could answer he said to Josie, “You have to help me, Jo. We’re having trouble with the fridge and the ice cream will melt — I don’t want it to go to waste.”

  She turned to Nastos. “Dad, can I?”

  “Josie, try to save some for the rest of the planet.”

  Nastos knew coming in that Viktor would sabotage any diet control and had decided to let her enjoy the late night. She would just burn it all off anyways. And if she was up too late, she could even miss the day at school tomorrow. It wouldn’t matter much. She could hang out at the office with Hopkins, while he and Carscadden worked the case. Hopkins wouldn’t mind the company.

  He looked around the table, the smiling faces, laughing, the company of his friends. Maybe it was the beer or something else he couldn’t explain, but he was beginning to feel better.

  “Karen.” Carscadden stood up abruptly, extending his hand.

  Nastos twisted in place to see Karen standing behind him. She looked too happy and Nastos was beginning to get an idea that the perfect evening was over.

  “Thanks for the invite.” Nastos noted her sarcasm. She was wearing an expensive dress, her hair was done, lipstick. She had spent time getting ready. “I saw your car so I thought I’d swing by.” She examined everyone at the table, stopping at Monika. “Hi, I’m Karen. I used to work with Steve.”

  Monika extended her hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Monika Styles.”

  Karen didn’t take the offer. She put her hands on her hips. “So you’re his date, eh?” She turned to Nastos. “I thought you would have given me a call if you were looking for a one-night thrill ride. She looks too uptight.” Karen kept her smile as if she wanted it to be taken as a joke.

  Nastos shared an awkward glance with Carscadden, who clearly saw that Karen was about ten seconds away from boiling a rabbit. At first he was speechless. She had been his partner for years, a woman he had spent more hours with on a daily basis than his wife. He glanced at Monika to apologize but no words came out.

  Hopkins stood and squeezed Nastos’ elbow. “Excuse me.” She walked up to Karen. “Listen. Nastos might be too polite to tell you to go screw yourself in polite company but I’m not.”

  Karen turned on her. “And who the hell —”

  Hopkins brought her right hand back and clenched it into a fist but Carscadden grabbed her before she threw it.

  Nastos took Karen by the arm. “You’re out of here.” He led her to the door. She reluctantly accompanied him, a smug expression on her face, the apparent damage done.

  He asked, “Where the hell did that come from?” For the first time he smelled the alcohol wafting from her breath. The playful sparkle in her eyes was growing brighter the angrier he became.

  “Good to see I can still get your heart pumping.” She reached out for his belt. “What about the rest of you?”

  Quickly he moved her away from him. She giggled when he grabbed her upper arms and kept her back. In a forced, quiet tone he hissed, “Don’t ever call me, or contact me ever again.”

  “You sure?” Her demeanour changed as they moved away from the table and it just became the two of them. “I know what it’s like to feel alone. I respected Madeleine and the choice you made. I never stopped loving you and it was hard to stay away after what happened. But I stayed away.”

  Nastos slackened his grip. He saw the hurt in her eyes, the alpha female part of her retreating.

  “I’m offering you something deeper, more meaningful than a romp in the sack. You know I’m sincere, you know I’ve . . . I’ve loved you for a long time.” She raised her chin as if to accept a kiss, which only made him more angry that he wasn’t getting through to her.

  He felt more than saw that Mills was coming up behind him. But he didn’t want the help. It only made everything more embarrassing than it already was.

  “Karen.” He opened the restaurant’s front door, holding it ajar with one hand. “Don’t ever come back here again, no matter what.”

  “I miss seeing you take charge of everything, Nastos. It’s like you’re the last of the real men. Weren’t we good together?”

  He guided her out the door. “We were until you decided you wanted more than I wanted to give. Sober up, Karen. I hope you’re not planning to drive.”

  He closed the door. She stood there a moment then left. She looked back once with a mixed emotion on her face that Nastos couldn’t read.

  When he turned he saw Mills waiting. “I can’t believe that just happened.”

  “She’s just drunk,” Mills replied.

  “Yeah, well, she got drunk while she spent about an hour getting ready.” He looked back at the table, Monika nodding while Hopkins and Carscadden were leaning forward, whispering to her. Monika must have sensed his eyes on him because she turned, presenting a sad, sympathetic and crooked smile before averting her eyes down to the table.

  15

  Carscadden and Nastos sat in the Bikkuri Japanese restaurant across from the King Edward Hotel. Even though it was daytime the restaurant was dark inside. There were bamboo blinds at the windows shielded by silk privacy screens, dim rectangular lights above the tables that were engraved with two dragons holding a pearl. The dinner plates were square with rounded corners decora
ted with red napkins that had been intricately folded into animals holding chopsticks bound in coloured paper ribbons.

  Carscadden had brought a standard car-entry kit just in case, a master electronic opener, a Slim Jim and, as a last resort, two-sided picks. There were only two doormen working at the King Edward and both had been given fifty dollars to beep the horn twice if they picked up the Chevy Tahoe registered to the guest John Smith.

  Carscadden paused for the waiter to leave before beginning the conversation. “So, last night’s dinner debacle . . . Any thoughts?”

  Nastos didn’t say anything.

  “I take it she’s still our client. You know, here we are, still working the case.”

  When Nastos asked himself why exactly they were here, he drew a blank. “I’m going to start with the salmon.”

  “Okay then, Monika,” Carscadden changed the subject. “What’s the deal there?”

  Nastos shrugged. “I sent some flowers to the office this morning. Fifty-dollar arrangement with a card.”

  “Having a stalker might make you seem more mysterious and alluring.” Carscadden’s deadpan didn’t hold up long and he began to chuckle to himself. He didn’t expect a reply and turned his focus back to work. “You know we can safely assume that these aren’t cops we’re dealing with. What’s your guess?”

  Nastos stared through the glass of the hotel doors. “I’ve been thinking about that but I just don’t have an answer. I wish it were the cops, because then we could drop the investigation. I think it’s going to be organized crime, and of the options available I kind of hope it’s the mafia.”

  “Because they’re businessmen?”

  “Yeah. But either way, we get their names from the hotel and we’re done. We email Karen, giving her what she needs, then hopefully I never have to deal with her again.”

  Carscadden gulped down a piece of salmon, followed by a kamikaze roll. “You ever even tell her that we’re on to these guys?”

  “I sent her a text before she showed up at dinner last night. She sent back something about getting fired from work and not being able to take it much longer. Typical Karen drama.”

  Nastos watched Carscadden working through the California rolls. Carscadden had stood beside him at the Cherry Beach trial and settled the subsequent lawsuit with the city. With the Bannerman case, Carscadden nearly lost his then-girlfriend and now-wife Tara Hopkins, but stayed committed no matter how dangerous it became. Now Nastos was finding himself in one of those crucial moments that would define the investigation.

  For the first time since they arrived there he allowed himself to contemplate how dangerous it was to confront the unknown men. He reached across to the black canvas bag he had sitting in the chair next to him. He had brought it to the office already packed, not wanting Carscadden to see that he had put a gun inside. Viktor had provided him with a pistol. It was stolen from a factory before the stamping process that gave it a unique serial number. If Nastos had to get rid of it, all he had to do was wipe it down and it could never be traced back.

  Nastos jolted to reality when Carscadden said, “They could be dangerous. If they are able to coerce cops to rob businesses . . .”

  Nastos turned back to the menu to plan what tray to order next. “We don’t know they were being compelled. They could be working for the wrong side by choice.”

  “Either way we should be armed, don’t you think?”

  Nastos felt his face flush. “You work the car, I’ll work them. I’ll call you when I’m clear.”

  Carscadden’s face contorted. “Screw you. We deal with them together.” He continued, “I’ll call Viktor, he could hook us up with something to protect ourselves.”

  Nastos sighed. “He already hooked me up. Me, not us.”

  Setting down his chopsticks and leaning forward Carscadden whispered, “You have a gun?”

  “Yeah, and as I recall, last time you had one things didn’t go so smoothly.”

  “Either I go with you, or we bail now and call the cops.” Carscadden took out his phone and began scrolling for a number. “We can call in some bullshit 911 domestic. The cops go in and investigate, we go in after when it’s clear.”

  “If we call the cops in then we tip these guys off and screw the entire investigation. We’d have to give statements, everything would get run by a dozen different people. It would get bounced around two different Field Commands and eventually to Professional Standards. It would be a shit-show. I don’t miss the buck passing.” He ran through the options and found himself thinking about the conversation he had with Doctor Mills about Chief Dimebag. He’s expecting a call from me. May as well run this one by him.

  Nastos stood and pulled out his phone. “Order something, I’ll be right back.” He paused for a second then grabbed the bag that he had placed on the bench next to him. He left Carscadden scrolling through the menu and moved to a more private area to dial a number.

  “Steve Nastos? What can I do you for?”

  “Hey, Chief, you have a few minutes?”

  “One sec.” He heard a chair scrape back as if the Chief was moving to someplace else. “I’m right in the middle of something . . . Okay, shoot.”

  “Listen, if you’re busy, maybe it can wait.”

  “It’s budget time,” the Chief said. “I’m trying to put a case together for funding to take on organized crime but the Police Services Board disagrees. They think that because car thefts of all things are down, that we can cut our budget to nothing.”

  “Exciting . . .” Nastos glanced to the table and saw Carscadden using the menu to point out an order to the waitress. “Well, speaking of organized crime, I’m working a private case and —”

  “Pardon me, Steve, is that why you’re calling? About a case?”

  “Well, no. Not really.” He immediately regretted that he hadn’t planned what to say if Dimebag actually answered the phone. “Actually, umm, sir, I want to apologize for the misunderstanding we, had when, you know, I —”

  “Nastos, if I may?”

  “Yeah?”

  “That was the lamest attempt at a non-apology I have ever heard.”

  He couldn’t disagree. “I guess I’m not good at saying I’m sorry. Sorry.”

  “Maybe your heart’s not in it.”

  Nastos had nothing to say.

  “Listen, thanks for calling but I have to get back to work, okay?”

  “Wait, Chief. Listen.” Nastos thought about Josie, who he had just dropped off at school an hour ago and how ever since Maddy died he had become paranoid about his own well-being. Not for himself but for her. “Organized crime. I think I might be on to something here and rather than go through a lot of BS, maybe you can —”

  “Nastos, Nastos, no, I can’t. I can’t and frankly I wouldn’t want to.” The Chief’s façade of stoicism finally eroded. “Christ, Nastos, after what you did to me — in public on TV was so embarrassing. Do you know the self-control it took me to not beat the shit out of you right then and there?” His voice had become a hiss.

  Nastos knew all about struggling for self-control. “I can imagine, sir.”

  “Yeah, well, next time you want to call?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t.”

  Nastos stared at the disconnected icon on his phone. There goes that idea. He put the phone away and looked over at Carscadden at the table. After the Bannerman case and how close Hopkins came to getting hurt, he was reluctant to bring Carscadden into any kind of danger. But with Karen the way she was, Jacques unavailable because of work and Dimebag uninterested in doing any favours, all that left was Carscadden. Nastos took his seat at the table and rested the bag on the bench next to him.

  “Okay, we do this together.”

  “Exactly.” Carscadden perked up.

  “We keep our eyes open and be ready for anything. If things go south
, we drop everything and book it.”

  “Got it.”

  Carscadden squeezed his hands into fists and relaxed. He clearly didn’t want Nastos facing the unknown alone. He smirked to himself and nodded in the direction of Nastos’ cell. “Was that the bunny boiler on the phone? Last night was great, until she showed up.” The enthusiasm for the conversation was obvious. Nastos reckoned Carscadden was probably about the right age to have seen Fatal Attraction when it played in the theatres.

  Nastos shuddered. “Sorry to disappoint, but no. It was Josie’s school,” he lied. From one unwanted conversation to another. “I can’t believe Karen did that. Thank god Josie wasn’t there when she came to the table.”

  The waitress brought over the second platter of food. They both thanked her as she left.

  Carscadden said, “I bet she waited for the right moment. When Styles would be there but Josie wouldn’t. I bet she was watching. She saw Viktor lead her away and made her move.”

  The thought of being stalked made it worse. “I don’t know. Just when I was beginning to feel relaxed, like myself again. If it’s not Maddy’s ghost haunting me it’s Karen.”

  “She comes on strong, but maybe she’s just socially awkward.”

  “Yeah. Maybe if she had a non-crazy sister.”

  “Maybe if she was a gorgeous psychologist who could sing like an angel . . .” Carscadden sounded chipper.

  “Since when did you become such a gossiper? Does Hopkins also have you watching Coronation Street?” Nastos tried to brush it off. “Besides, psychologists don’t date customers, they have them locked up, and I’m in therapy for serious issues. If she was in any way interested in me — and I’m not saying I’m interested in her — but if she was, she needs meds.”

  Carscadden clenched a piece of tempura between his chopsticks, dipped it in sauce and spoke as he chewed. “You know there was a time, back in the day, when someone said to me, ‘You’re not the only guy in the world who has a drinking problem.’ And you know, you’re not the only guy in the world with a temper after he lost his wife. Maybe you need to cut yourself a bit of slack and remember that you’re not in this alone. Hopkins nearly died back then and for a while there I lived her death in my mind. I’m not saying that I know what you’re going through but I’ve been close. There, I said my piece. Now try the kamikaze roll, it’s spicy as hell.”