Torque

by Glenn Muller

  “I need to get ahead of these bastards, Mogg. Find out who they are and what they are up to. Once I’ve got some answers, then I’ll go to the cops. Maybe.”

  Deep in thought, Fenn sat on the sofa and stroked the cat as the evening drew on. He re-examined the events until the week in all its detail lay flat like a map. Then he began to chart a course of action. The apartment grew dark and Mogg wandered off, but Fenn stayed in the diffused glow of a streetlight until he finally had a plan. It would start with a couple of calls.

  The first number dialed was written on the desk blotter. He didn’t waste words.

  “Reis,” he said. “It’s Fenn. We’ll meet tomorrow night.”

  CHAPTER 26

  Monday, October 26th

  To conceal the gauze patch on her calf, Kim wore slacks to work rather than her customary skirts. The shotgun pellet must have ricocheted off something and sliced through the back of her leg. There’d be no lasting impediment though she might be left with a narrow scar.

  Harder to conceal was that her date with Fenn hadn’t gone so well. Antonella wanted the dirt even before the wickets were open for business.

  “Hey, girlfriend. You’re looking a little tired today. Must have had a good weekend!”

  Kim kept her eyes on her console as she logged in. “Tired, yes. Good, no.”

  “Sometimes that happens,” Antonella said diplomatically as she unlocked the door to let the first applicants of the week come in. She was somewhat surprised at Kim’s response but would wait until her friend was ready to share. Tales of dates gone wrong were always juicier than the Cinderella stories. Though both clerks were busy throughout the morning, Antonella did notice that Kim was uncharacteristically dour. The girl definitely had something on her mind.

  Kim worked absently and wondered if she was suffering from some sort of delayed reaction to the attack. It had been so unreal. She had actually been enjoying the date. Chas was exactly how she’d expected him to be and then, inexplicably, it was like he was a two-bit drug mule with a price on his head.

  How could she not have picked up on that? She had always been good at reading people. Something else that disturbed her was how she had felt in the motel parking lot. Naked at first except for a sheet, and later surrounded by truckers, paramedics and firemen she had found it erotic as well as mortifying. None of the guys seemed to mind that she’d looked like a wretch. She’d even flirted with a couple of them.

  I am never going to drink again—ever.

  She felt her cheeks flush and wondered if Antonella had noticed. Probably. She’d been casting sidelong glances all morning. The same way Kim had been glancing at the door, ready to duck into the storeroom if Fenn showed up. Appointments were booked in the student’s name. He could arrive unexpectedly, anytime.

  After getting home on Sunday morning she’d taken a long bath and two painkillers, and then slept like the dead until the sun went down. She made an omelette while listening to Fenn’s pathetic apology on her answering machine and then called her sister.

  Growing up, Eileen and Kim had fought like cats over anything that kids and young adults find important. Then, when Eileen went to university, their separation and the need for an ally against the problems of the real world began to foster a mutual respect and appreciation for each other. The onset of Eileen’s MS only served to strengthen that bond.

  Kim held back a few details about her date, like the licence plate number she’d researched for Fenn. Now she wondered if he’d told the truth about why he wanted that. She’d also glossed over the two hours preceding the attack but things of that nature can be left unspoken between sisters.

  Eileen must have stopped listening, anyway, for she’d exclaimed, “You could have been killed!”

  Yes. She could have been.

  A few years ago their father had received an anonymous death threat and they’d hired a bodyguard for a brief period. Whereas nothing had come of that incident, the attack at the motel had been so unexpected it was over almost before it had time to register.

  “I need you to keep this to yourself, Eileen.” Meaning don’t tell Dad. Mom was in Singapore so no worries there.

  “Okay, but I want you to call me every night this week. If you don’t, I’ll call you.”

  Two more painkillers had knocked her out until it was time to get up on Monday morning. Now Antonella was leaning over to her and whispering.

  “You’re awfully quiet, Sugar. Did that Fenn do anything he shouldn’t have? Tell me if he did ‘cause I’ll find him and kick his ass, and then I’ll get my Dwayne to kick whatever’s left.”

  “I’m fine. No need for Dwayne. It was just a bit weird. I’ll fill you in as soon as I sort it out for myself.”

  Antonella tut-tutted and beckoned to the next patron in line. Kim checked the door again and forced a weak smile for the teen approaching with an application. It was not even lunchtime and already she wanted her bed.

  == == ==

  Detective Lareault was out so Collier left a voice mail.

  “Evan, it’s Dennis. Toxicology leaves no doubt that we are dealing with death by lethal injection. The exact compound is still to be determined. Also, the lipstick found on both victims is an identical match.”

  According to the shade card on his desk, the lipstick colour was Razz-berry Rave. Another lead for Lareault’s street beat as they canvassed the local working girls.

  They had approximate height, weight, and gender. Now a lipstick preference. Possibly wearing a wig. She wouldn’t be the first hooker to eliminate every last hair. The practice cut down on microbial hitchhikers, made for easier cleanups, and the johns liked it. Natural baldness was another possibility.

  “Oh, and considering the, um, energetic nature of the deaths I think it’s strange that the only hair we found from the suspect was a single synthetic strand. I might have a theory on that so, if you get a minute, give me call.”

  He hung up then tapped his keyboard to bring the computer out of sleep mode. Picking away at the letters he typed ALOPECIA AREATA UNIVERSALIS. After a moment, a series of web links to journals appeared. He selected one then began to read.

  ALOPECIA AREATA UNIVERSALIS, commonly known as hair loss disease. A medical condition that affects only one person in a hundred thousand. ALOPECIA AREATA is an autoimmune disorder that generally affects the scalp. UNIVERSALIS denotes hair loss over the entire body including the pubic regions. Not known to be fatal, there is no cure or definitive treatment. Victims often present other conditions related to the immune system such as allergies, asthma, or hypothyroidism.

  The phone rang. It was Lareault.

  “We’ve just had a break in the case. Durrell’s wife realized his security uniform is missing. Since he and Svoljsak were about the same size, I had Frank Bloomfield talk to the supervisor at his last scheduled assignment. The man identified Svoljsak as the guy who showed up when Durrell didn’t. That company is now doing an inventory to see if anything is missing.”

  “What’s the name of the company?”

  “Simedyne, in Hamilton. It’s a pharmaceutical research facility.”

  Simedyne. That rang a bell. Fat guy. Brain aneurysm. And a skinny bitch that looked like a mannequin in more ways than one.

  “Evan, I may just know who the killer is. Let me touch base with Chedoke Hospital. I’ll get back to you within the hour.”

  He hit the disconnect button, hurriedly flipped through his Rolodex, then dialed.

  “Extension 223, please.” He now recalled every word of the interview with the mannequin woman—Johannesburg, my ass!

  “Rose, it’s Dennis Collier. I need you to pull a file and I need it, stat.”

  CHAPTER 27

  Dusk arrived early, pushed ahead by scudding clouds and the threat of rain. Fenn was bushed. Twelve hours of protecting students from themselves and the vagaries of other drivers had put a tired look on his face that wouldn’t rub away. Fortunately, a Ministry booking had not been part of his day. As much as he w
anted to make things right with Kim prudence dictated a cooling off period. A year. Maybe two.

  With the streetlights starting to glow he entered Burlington’s newest industrial park at the east end of town. Despite the downturn in the economy Jack Klaasen continued to build office towers and Fenn drove past a number of TO LET and SPACE AVAILABLE signs. He slowed as he neared the address Reis had given him. It was a ten-story structure of black aluminum and dark glass. Tall and narrow, it gave the impression of a giant domino tile. The black BMW parked at the base could have been a chip from it. Fenn took the adjacent spot.

  Apart from the entrance and a unit on the fifth floor the place was without lights and appeared to be deserted. Reis had said it was a new construction. It was also a great place for an ambush. He probably should have insisted on somewhere busier but last night he’d felt angry and pugilistic. Anger was fine. Anger took shit from no one. But it wouldn’t stop a bullet. For now, the disc was his insurance and he had to find out why Reis wanted it. Once he handed it over all bets would be off.

  The foyer was close to completion. The drywall was sanded and waiting for paint, and long rolls of broadloom were ready to be laid. The elevators were front and center and Fenn’s body sagged from the swift ascent. He stepped into a bright hallway and walked soundlessly on new carpet until he came to a unit with a makeshift sign.

  BRITTANY REIS B.SC. and LLP

  It was attached by tape to the door, which was slightly ajar. He pushed it open.

  “Won't you come in, Mr. Fenn?”

  There was nothing makeshift about Brittany Reis. Her sleeveless blue dress and long dark hair were elegantly offset with dangling silver earrings and a two-strand pearl choker. Fine penciled-in eyebrows and dark pink lipstick perfectly contrasted the steel-grey eyes and pale skin. Her self-assured smile made Fenn realize he was still standing in the hall.

  An expansive mahogany desk stood between them, on which sat her cell phone and briefcase. Apart from the high-back leather chair behind the desk and the low-back one in front, the room was bare save for a sofa and an end table along one wall. The floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the QEW were without blinds.

  Reis indicated the chair closest to Fenn. To accept would concede a point of control but, what the hell, it had been a long day and he really did want to sit. Reis came around to Fenn’s side of the desk and perched her shapely butt on the edge of it.

  “I can’t offer you a drink because we just moved in, so why don’t we get down to business. Did you bring it?”

  Fenn produced the CD case. He watched her eyes and saw the pupils dilate. She held out her hand. He didn’t move. Reis pursed her lips and reached across to the briefcase. From it she brought a wad of hundred dollar bills and put it beside her on the desk.

  “Your five thousand dollar finder’s fee.”

  Interesting, but not what he was after.

  “I want to know who trashed my apartment and firebombed the motel. And I want to know who gave the order.”

  Still propped against the desk she casually crossed one leg over the other. The dress ended a few inches above the knee. The legs ended in a pair of glossy pumps with long thin heels. She caught Fenn’s glance.

  “Even if I have that information, telling you would compromise client confidentiality. However …” She reached over to the briefcase again, this time leaning farther and making the dress rise higher. She added a second wad of banknotes to the first.

  “I have been authorized to give you a further five thousand dollars for damages.”

  Fenn looked at the money. Ten thousand dollars, just like that. How far would this so-called client be willing to go?

  “I also lost my lease.”

  “Find a new place. We’ll provide references and the first month’s rent.”

  He opened the plastic case and let the light reflect off the disc inside. It was her turn to be distracted.

  “I also want to know where my father is?”

  Her grey eyes tracked up.

  “I don’t know where your partner is.”

  “I said father.”

  “And I said, I don’t know. Look, we’re willing to look beyond how you got the disc, and pay a generous finder’s fee.” She tapped the cash with a manicured nail. “You already know the alternative. This is as good as it gets.”

  That may be true in your world but not in mine, thought Fenn. She was offering him money for data when he’d have gladly paid her for some answers. He let his focus drift past her, out of the unit and into the night. Parallel lines of miniature gemstones defined the highway—diamonds going east, rubies heading west—everyone going somewhere just trying to keep up with life. He wondered if they all felt as tired as he did. He brought his attention back to Reis, who once again had her hand out for the disc.

  Fenn shook his head.

  “It’s not enough.”

  She arched one penciled eyebrow and lowered her hand, then the thin pink lips formed a faint smile and she nodded.

  “I know exactly what you mean. There are certain things that require a more delicate negotiation. And we both know that money isn’t everything.”

  Still with the smile, she casually removed one earring and then the other. A slim hand went behind her head and came back with a jade hairclip he hadn’t noticed before. She retained the pearl choker but placed the other pieces neatly on the desk beside the cash.

  Fenn thought she was adding jewellery to the pot until she slid her arm up between her shoulder blades and began a slow downward stroke to her tailbone. The left shoulder dipped followed by the right and the dress slipped from her to reveal a strapless bra and string-thin thong.

  Watching his face, she noticed Fenn's deadpan expression waver. Her lips parted and her eyes became bright with excitement. Stepping out of the dress, her long legs accentuated by the heels and dark thigh high stockings, she promenaded over to the expanse of clear plate glass. Framed by the only lit window in a wall of black she seemed to revel in being on display to the world.

  Her back still to Fenn, she removed the last two pieces of modesty as if solely for her own gratification. She raised her arms and pressed her body against the glass, head turned so as to feel the coolness on her cheek. Transfixed by the display, Fenn watched her roll slowly as if on a bed, the heat of her body leaving a ghostly outline on the cold surface. Now facing him her eyes were half-closed and her mouth half-open. The smile was no more.

  She came at him in long strides and before he could react had straddled the chair and pressed her lips forcefully to his. The kiss was hungry. Demanding. Her hips were in motion. Insistent. Urging. Fenn responded autonomously with caressing hands and a searching tongue.

  She nipped his lip, came off his lap, and went behind the desk to rummage briefly in her purse. She returned to kneel at his feet then began to release his belt and unzip his jeans. Fenn helped then settled into the upholstery as her tongue explored the inside of his thigh. Fully aroused, he only realized she had dressed him in a condom when she abruptly ceased her caress and rose from her knees.

  Reis turned toward the desk. With legs straight and stiletto heels spaced apart she leaned across the broad wooden surface and grasped the far edge. Her look back was as much a challenge as an invitation. Fenn took in the view and slowly came out of the chair. Whatever her motives, right now she had but one objective and he moved up behind to place his hands on her hips. What the hell--if the lady is going to offer her honour, the least a gentleman can do is honour the offer.

  == == ==

  The elevator doors slid open at the lobby. Slumped in a corner as if asleep, Fenn didn’t move.

  The doors closed.

  He slowly reached up, grabbed the railing, and wearily got to his feet. Already knackered from the weekend’s excitement and the workday’s long shift, it seemed like Reis had intentionally tried to finish him off. Only when he’d knocked the jade hairclip off the desk had she seemed distracted from that intent but her vexation was overridden by
a stronger impulse just two strokes later. It had carried them both and for long seconds they had fought for, and against, each other. While she was still recovering he’d spent an unsteady minute in the on-suite washroom, then pocketed the bundles of cash and staggered out.

  Ten thousand bucks for an old Neil Diamond CD. Reis could screw him silly but until he had answers to all of his questions he was going to hang on to the actual data disc. It was all the leverage he had.

  The other call he’d made on Sunday night was to his grandmother. As far as Elsie knew, Svoljsak had fallen off the planet years ago and, as far as she was concerned, that was a good thing.

  Fenn tucked in his shirt and made his way outside. The cool night air was refreshing in a cold, unpleasant, kind of way. Next to the gleaming BMW his unwashed Tercel looked like a poor relative. He got into it but didn’t go far. In the front corner of the parking lot were two industrial scrap bins with a Toyota sized space between them. He backed into it then stepped out to make sure the car was concealed in the shadow.

  He could see the unit he had just left. Reis was dressed and clipping on her earrings. She came to the window briefly then moved back to the desk where she was only visible to Fenn from the waist up. She appeared to be inspecting something in her hand. She shook her head, turned angrily, and flung the object at the window. He saw a flash on impact and was pretty sure it was the demise of Neil Diamond. Clearly agitated, Reis returned to the window then slammed her hand on the glass and kicked what had to be the remains of the disc and case.

  A car approached and entered the lot. Fenn crept back into the shadow. It was a Grand Marquis and it pulled up beside the BMW. The two occupants got out. One was definitely Ron Jenner. The other could have been a defensive tackle for a professional football team. They went directly inside and headed for the elevator.

  Fenn left the bins and trotted to where he could read the licence plate. It matched the number he’d given Kim. He returned to his hiding spot to see Reis and the other two having an animated discussion. It was a short conversation that ended with the two men moving furniture from that office into adjacent units. When the lights in all the units went out Fenn got back into his car.