by Don Sawyer
Stitch topped up her glass. “Go on.”
“Tommy is in with UIG. He had four and a half million bucks transferred from UIG to the Venam account in Canada.”
“And UIG is…”
“A shell company. Front for one of the big Colombian drug cartels. I don’t know which one.”
“OK. So the money’s in Venam’s account. What happened then?”
“The project stalled. They thought they had the council in their pocket. They’d promised the planner a top job in the company. He would have recommended a nuclear waste dump. They offered campaign money to three councillors if they voted the right way. You know, the usual.”
“But the council turned it down anyway.”
“Yep.”
Stitch nodded slowly. “So how did you get involved?”
“Venam was freaking out. They were paying off the property. Their credit line was shot. They had to get the thing built and bring in some revenue. So they went back to Tommy. Told him the whole deal could collapse. Tommy told them he’d take care of it.”
“So he bribed Maxwell,” Stitch said. “And added you as an extra. And a bit of insurance for him.”
Didi nodded. “Weakest link in the chain. Never knew what hit him.” She looked up sharply. “But make no mistake. He wanted it. A hundred thou and a new life. He jumped at it.” She swirled the whisky in her glass. “Changed his vote at the next hearing. Never blinked an eye.”
Stitch looked over Didi’s shoulder. The room was filling up. A soft hum of conversation soundproofed the place. “He may have wanted out. But did he want to die?”
Didi’s eyes grew soft. “Poor, silly man. He had no idea what he had gotten into.” She sighed. “If he’d just stayed with the plan. If he hadn’t suddenly gone all moral and decided to go back with you it would have worked. We could have left that night.”
“But you didn’t. Instead you called Tommy and he contacted a couple of hit men. Two hours later Maxwell is dead. His brains blown out. And you are driving happily away in your Honda.”
Didi squeezed her eyes shut and tilted her head back. “What could I do? I couldn’t stay there. I drove to Lansing. Left the car at the airport. Got the next plane to Chicago. All I wanted to do was get the money and split.”
“But that didn’t work out either.” Stitch looked her in the eyes. “And now you’re stuck. If the mob thinks you’re too risky, they kill you. If you get busted, you spend the rest of your life behind bars.”
Didi said nothing. “There’s a way out,” Stitch continued. “This is big, Didi. The Crown would love to bust Cecconi and his bunch once and for all. If they can tie him to UIG, to the money laundering, he’s toast.”
Didi listened intently. She took out another cigarette and lit it. “Would my testimony be enough?”
“If we could get some solid evidence of bank transfers, yes. I think so.”
Didi opened her purse again and rummaged around. She pulled out a printout and handed it to Stitch. “Would this help?”
Stitch studied the document. Nexus International Bank was at the top. Stitch noted the account number. KN66314753241. The statement showed $100,000 being deposited and then removed from Didi’s account.
“What’s this?” Stitch asked.
“The money came from the UIG account. The number will prove it.”
Stitch nodded. “So this proves they set up an account in your name. Puts UIG right in the middle. And I bet we can trace that 4.5 million transfer to Venam to this account as well.”
Stitch looked back at Didi. “Look, Didi. They don’t care about you. If you cooperated, they’d drop charges. Set you up with a new identity. I know people in the RCMP. I can make it happen.”
Didi picked up her cigarette and inhaled deeply. She looked out the windows. It was 6:30 now and the sky was darkening. The air was cooler, but it still smelled of flowers and sea salt.
“But you’re in real danger. You have to leave now.”
Didi continued to stare out the window. “You know there are no more flights tonight, Stitch.”
“I can get Paul Newman to get us a boat. I’ll go with you. We’ll be in St. Kitts in a few hours.”
Didi looked at Stitch. “Paul Newman?”
Stitch waved his hand. “It’s a long story. The point is you need to leave now.”
“We’ll see how things go tomorrow morning. Then we can discuss exit plans.”
Stitch leaned forward. He was just inches from her face. “I’ve already lost one witness like this. He wanted to wait until morning. When I came back he was dead.”
Didi smiled broadly. “Well, aren’t you thoughtful?” She closed her eyes. “But it’s unlikely they would kill me here. Too messy. Too many cops snooping around.” She gently shook her head back and forth. “Let’s see if Tommy comes through in the morning.”
“God, Didi!” Stitch’s voice was hoarse and intense. “Don’t you get it? They know you’re in cabin 21 just like I do. They could pull you out of there and onto a boat in minutes. You’d never be seen again.”
Didi leaned toward Stitch and opened her huge green eyes. “Why, I think you really care.” She reached her hand toward Stitch and ran a red-tipped finger down his cheek. “You are very sweet.” She licked her lips slowly. “I think I have an idea.”
Stitch’s throat had closed.
“How about I sleep with you tonight?”
CHAPTER 16
Didi
Stitch was wide awake long before Didi’s alarm buzzed. He lay motionless. He heard the rustle of sheets as she slipped out of bed. She padded softly to the bathroom and turned on the shower. He listened to the water splatter as she washed. Then there was quiet. He looked up as Didi stepped out of the bathroom. She was wearing only a towel wrapped around her head.
“My God,” Stitch said sleepily. “You’re drop-dead gorgeous.”
Didi jumped. “You’re awake.” She smiled. “You never really saw me dance, did you?”
Stitch had rolled over on his side facing Didi. His chin rested in his left hand. “No. An oversight I deeply regret.”
Didi grinned. She lifted her arms over her head and turned gracefully. Her arms swooped down across her breasts and down her torso. She turned sideways and slowly sank into a split. She arched her back and extended her arms out and upward. Her splendid breasts rose and fell gently as she breathed.
She turned her head toward Stitch. “There. What do you think?”
“I think,” Stitch said huskily. “I think I know why you were the top exotic dancer in Canada.”
Didi folded her long legs underneath her. She rose gracefully and wagged a finger at Stitch. “In the world,” she scolded.
“I stand corrected. Listen, how about coming back to bed. Just for a few minutes?” he pleaded.
Didi laughed and dried her hair with the towel. “Sorry, sir. I have business to attend to.” She pulled a hank of wet hair away from her right eye. “But I look forward to continuing our relationship.” She winked. “As soon as I get back.”
Stitch sat up in bed. “Didi, let me come with you.”
Didi turned her back and began dressing. “We’ve been over this, Stitch. You are very gallant. But all that would do is get us both killed. You know they have a complete sheet on you now. And you know they’re watching.”
Stitch knew she was right. “You’ll come back?”
Didi turned around. She wore only a green silk skirt covered with bright flowers. She smiled again and walked to the bed. She gave Stitch a kiss on the forehead.
“I promise. Now you just stay in bed. I’ll be back before you know it.” She gave Stitch one of her sensual little grins. “Keep the sheets warm, eh?”
Stitch awoke with a start. He shook his head. He’d obviously dozed off. He grabbed th
e alarm clock on the bedside table. It was 9:45. Didi should have been back. He scrambled out of bed. He slipped on a pair of khaki shorts and threw on a white shirt. He burst out of the cottage and sprinted down the walk to the great house. He looked quickly around the grounds. Then he bounded up the stairs to the lounge. He pushed the door open and peered in. It was deserted.
He shut the door and stood on the top of the stairs. He looked down the long driveway. A single taxi was moving toward him. It pulled to a stop at the bottom of the stairs. Paul Newman climbed out of the driver’s seat. He motioned to Stitch.
When Stitch got to the bottom of the stairs, Paul opened the back door of the taxi. “Mr. Stitch,” Paul said. “Please get in. I have a message for you.”
Stitch got numbly in the back seat. Paul pulled away from the hotel and began driving west away from Charlestown.
“Where are we going?” Stitch asked.
“Nowhere.”
Stitch settled back. “I might as well get comfortable then. It could be a long ride.”
“Not so long.”
“You said you had a message. From Didi?”
In the front seat Paul nodded. “Yes. Mrs. Anderson asked me to tell you she was sorry.”
“Sorry for what? Didn’t she go to the bank?
“Not exactly.”
Stitch put his arm across the back of the driver’s seat and leaned forward. “Look,” he said in exasperation. “What went on this morning?”
Paul kept his eyes on the twisty road. “It actually started last night. A private plane flew into the airport. The man on board asked the airport manager for someone he could trust.” Paul looked at Stitch in the rear view mirror. “He’s my cousin. He called me.”
Stitch sat back. “Go on.”
“When I arrived at the airport the man handed me a package. A padded envelope. He gave me five one hundred dollar bills. I was to pick up Mrs. Anderson at the hotel this morning. He told me that she would ask to be taken to the bank. He told me to give her the envelope instead. I was to tell her to open it in the car.”
Stitch looked out the window at the green hills. “I’m on the edge of my seat. What happened next?”
“I did as I was instructed. I gave Mrs. Anderson the package. She opened it.”
“What was in it?”
“I was driving, so I am not exactly sure. But there was some money. Also an airplane ticket and a letter.”
“How much money, Paul?”
Paul shrugged. “I cannot be sure. I would guess around $10,000.”
Stitch chuckled to himself. “She must have been pissed.”
Paul glanced at Stitch through the mirror. “Yes. Mrs. Anderson seemed very upset. She crumpled up the letter and swore.”
Stitch laughed out loud. “I’ll bet she did. What happened then?”
“Mrs. Anderson was quiet for a few minutes. Then she instructed me to take her to the airport.”
“And she got on the next plane out.”
“That is true.”
Stitch watched as goats clambered over a rocky river bed they were crossing. “Do you have any idea what the letter said, Paul?”
Paul leaned across the front seat. He opened the glove box and pulled out a crumpled sheet of lined paper. He passed it over the seat to Stitch. “She threw it on the floor.”
Stitch took the paper and smoothed it out on the seat next to him. The note had been written in ink in a man’s hand.
Di. You’re alive because I vouched for you. There’s only one way to stay that way. Get on the 8:35 plane out this morning. Here’s some money. It’s my own. Take it and get on that plane. And then disappear.
T.
Stitch carefully folded the paper. He slipped it into his back pocket. He was quiet for a long time. “Next flight out is 4:00, Paul?”
“4:15. Yes, sir.”
“Will you make sure I have a seat? And then pick me up at 3:30.”
Paul nodded. He pulled off the highway and made a u-turn. “You’ll be going back to the hotel now?”
Stitch nodded. His hand closed around the key chain in his pocket.
The room was a mess. But Stitch wasn’t interested in clutter. The day was already hot and muggy. He stripped off his shirt and sat down at the coffee table. He opened his green case lying on the table. From a sleeve in the top he pulled out a tiny computer. He hefted it with one hand. Less than two pounds. How do they do it? He wondered. He selected a cord from several attached to the right side of the case. He pushed one end into the USB port of the computer.
Stitch reached into his right pants pocket. He unzipped an inside pocket and pulled out the key chain. He studied the black plastic triangle carefully. An ordinary key extended from one end. A mini USB port was cleverly hidden on one side. He pushed the other end of the computer cord into the port. Then he turned on the computer. He watched as the screen lit up.
Stitch pushed the Unlock button on the key chain. Suddenly the screen filled with the inside of the hotel lounge. The date and time read out along the bottom of the picture. Stitch pushed the button again then released it.
Now the screen showed Didi approaching the table. Stitch caught a glimpse of her gorgeous legs as she sat down. Her upper body was clearly framed on the screen. Perfect, Stitch thought. On the screen, Didi was leaning toward Stitch. She was too close to be seen. “I like to see your hairy chest,” she was saying. “You’re a very good looking man.”
Stitch pushed the button once more. When he released it Didi was leaning toward him again. “You must believe me,” she was saying. “I didn’t know they would kill him. I swear.” He pushed the button one more time. When he took it off this time, Didi was reaching toward Stitch. “You are very sweet,” she was saying. “I think I have an idea.” On the screen she leaned back in her chair. Stitch could see her tongue run slowly along her upper lip. “How about I sleep with you tonight?”
Stitch sat up and rubbed his eyes. He ran his fingers through his thick sandy hair. Then he leaned back toward the table. He saved the video on his computer. Then he disconnected the key chain. He looked closely at the plastic triangle. A tiny lens no bigger than the head of a pin was mounted near the upper edge. The whole thing was a tiny video camera. It had four hours of recording time. All on one teeny battery.
Man, Stitch thought again. How do they do it?
Stitch shut off the computer and closed it. He slipped it carefully back into its sleeve and returned the cable. Then he snapped the key chain DVR onto a ring in his carry-on. There were two things Stitch had learned early on: Always back up everything. And never keep the originals and copies in the same place.
Stitch closed the green leather case and dialled the lock. He stood up and walked to the bar near the door. He picked up the bottle of Johnny Walker. He held it up to the light. There was about an inch left in the bottom. Damn, Stitch, thought. That woman can sure drink.
Stitch poured the last of the whisky into a glass. He walked across the room and slid open the door to the veranda. He stepped out into brilliant sunshine. He looked up at the cloudless blue sky. He raised the glass. “Here’s to you, Didi,” he said. He took a sip. “And good luck,” he added softly.
CHAPTER 17
The Hearing
Stitch walked into the courtroom at Daffy’s side. Many smiled as they walked in. The place was packed, mainly with Farley’s Bog supporters. As they made their way down the aisle, Daffy pointed to one of the few open seats. It was right behind the fence separating the lawyers from the gallery.
“For you, sir.” Daffy smiled, motioning at the empty chair. Stitch slid across the aisle and settled into his seat.
Stitch could also feel tension in the air. When he had returned five days earlier, Daffy was in the middle of fighting Venam’s request to have the injunction overturne
d. And it hadn’t been going well. Venam had assembled a team of high-priced lawyers from Toronto. More worrying, Judge Cox had gone to law school with the lead counsel, Franklin DeSoto.
So when Stitch had shown Daffy the video, he nearly fell off his chair. Halfway through he got up and gave Stitch a huge bear hug. Tears were streaming down his cheeks.
“Stitch,” he blubbered. “I know I’ve said some nasty things about you. I was wrong. So wrong. You are the best detective in Ontario.”
“You including the north too?” Stitch asked.
“The north, the east. You’re the best.” He gave Stitch another hug.
“Hey!” Stitch yelled. “You big oaf. You’re going to break my ribs!”
“Ah, what’s a few broken ribs? More important, you’ve broken the case!”
Daffy helped Stitch write out an affidavit. In it Stitch laid out the bare bones of what he had learned. In support of this affidavit, he included the video. He also attached a copy of the bank transfer and a transcript of his recording of Didi’s cell phone call to Cecconi. The transcript had come via his RCMP friend Carl. With the information Stitch had turned over to the cops, he had become a hero with the RCMP. They sensed a big bust. Carl could see his own career taking off.
“This is dynamite,” Daffy said as Stitch signed the bottom of the document. “Pure dynamite. Along with Maxwell’s statement it’s a slam dunk. Even old Cox can’t ignore this. We’ve got it in the bag.”
Stitch finished signing and handed the affidavit to Daffy. “Really?”
Daffy sighed. “No.” He sighed again. “In the courtroom anything can happen. They’ve brought in the best lawyers money can buy. Cox is friends with these guys. He used to be a corporate lawyer. He can throw all of this away. Say it’s inadmissible. Irrelevant. Anything.”
“That’s where you come in,” Stitch said. “They can bring in all the big city lawyers they want. But you’re a great barrister, Daf. Don’t let them get to you. Think about them on a wrestling mat. Their Armani suits are gone. Now they’ve just got shorts and a tank top on. Can’t you see their scrawny little legs? Their pale arms? Their flabby gut? You could crush them with one hand.”