by Rick Blechta
I smiled. “Are you aware that whenever you walk into a room, your eyes go into laser beam mode? What the heck are you staring at?”
“It’s a habit,” she responded with a hint of embarrassment. “People pay me to notice things. Would you be happy if I was always walking around in a fog?”
“Certainly not. Anyway, that was a serious question I was asking.
What do you see?”
Shannon looked around the room a bit more. “Same things I didin your apartment. I see someone who is very neat and orderly. I’m assuming you have more clothes than what you’re wearing. They’re all put away, your jacket is hung up and the things from your pocket are laid out in a row on the bedside table. The bathroom, from what I saw walking by it, was also tidy.”
“And what does all this tell you?”
“You’re either anal about neatness, or you’re hiding away anything that might reveal something about you personally.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes. The only place I’ve seen where you allow any mess is your desk at work. Your office is a pig sty, as a matter of fact.”
“Meaning I don’t care as much about my work as I do my privacy?”
“Maybe.” Silence fell awkwardly between us. “So where do we go from here?”
“If you think I’m about to go off and find another investigatorslash-bodyguard-slash-psychologist at this point, you’re more screwed up than I am.”
Shannon took a deep breath. “Good. I’ve been afraid I’d blown it.”
“No. Just the opposite.” I stepped over to the bed and sat down on the corner closest to her. “So where do we go from here?” I asked, repeating her words.
“I really studied the recordings made by the cameras in your apartment, and I’m afraid your Brummy friend is too clever by half, as you Brits say. He had gloves on the whole time, as far as I can tell, so that’s probably a dead end if we were hoping to send Campbell fingerprints along with the face.”
“But you still want to go down there?”
“Might as well get whatever prints I can.” Shannon looked up at me with a challenging expression.
I got to my feet. “Let’s get that dinner I offered you the other day, and while we’re doing that, you’re going to figure out how to get me in and out of my apartment without getting caught. I really do need some clean clothes, and no, I’m not going to let you choose them for me. And that’s final!”
“You’ve got a stiff neck, Quinn!”
***
It wasn’t hard deciding that the hotel’s restaurant was the easiest place to eat, considering the weather, which had been deteriorating throughout the day as the weather reports blared winter storm warnings.
We actually had a nice meal together, talking about her kids and how much they got out of living on the family’s old farm—even Rachel, who daily went from one teenage crisis to another.
My hired car was the best choice to get to my apartment, since the bad guys had seen Shannon’s SUV . She would drive, and I’d keep my head down in the back seat. Make a quick circuit of my building’s basement car park to see if anyone was lurking, then it would either be a quick exit, or we’d be home free.
Snow was really coming down, and driving was treacherous. There were very few cars on the road.
“How come they won’t recognize you?” I asked as we drove south on University Avenue.
“Simple. I’ll put a scarf on my head. It’s amazing how something that basic can throw off a man.”
“As opposed to a woman?”
“Women notice more than men do. It’s a proven fact!” she said, laughing at my doubtful expression.
Once we got past Bathurst, King Street looked like a vast snowy desert. Anyone with a modicum of sense had long since headed for the shelter of home and hearth.
Sliding in the deep snow that had collected under the railway overpass just east of my building, we both began to tense up, but not due to the weather. My confidence was seeping away faster than the snow was falling.
“It’s a known fact in police circles,” Shannon had said as we’d come out of the hotel’s underground parking lot and surveyed the condition of Toronto’s roads, “that crooks and bad guys don’t like to be out in miserable weather any more than the rest of us—less, probably, because they’re inherently lazy. Break-ins, robberies and car stealing all plummet whenever the weather is bad. I’m hoping no one will be watching your apartment tonight. We’re about the only ones dumb enough to be out in this blizzard!”
I climbed awkwardly into the back and crouched between the seats as Shannon drove the last two blocks at a circumspect pace, her eyes constantly on the move as we passed parked cars.
We almost got stuck in the driveway of my building, since it had collected a lot of blowing snow, but with a little rocking, we made it to the ramp down to the car park.
She made two slow circuits and saw nothing untoward, but being cautious, she parked in one of the visitor spaces, rather than my reserved one.
While I waited in the back seat of the car, she keyed the lift and got it down, then signalled with a sharp whistle that all was ready. As I scrambled out and ran for the open lift door, I felt as if I’d landed in the middle of a cheap spy novel. We both breathed a sigh of relief as the door slid shut uneventfully.
“First step accomplished,” Shannon said tightly.
We got off on the floor below mine and walked up via the stairwell at the opposite end of the building. Shannon insisted on doing a quick reconnoiter down the hall and soon whistled another all-clear.
I tried to walk at a dignified pace to my apartment. I had the door open in a flash and resisted leaning against it once the deadbolt had slid home.
“Here,” Shannon said in a whisper as she pressed something into my hand. “Only use this if you have to, and keep the beam low.”
It was a tiny torch with a red filter over the lens to keep one’s night vision intact. Private eyes get to play with some pretty cool toys.
I followed her into the bedroom. She’d put on a headlamp thing with the same red filter and busied herself in the room with her fingerprint equipment. It took her only a few minutes to find a group of prints on the dresser and my bedside table. Then she gave me the all-clear to get on with my packing.
Contrary to what she’d said about me earlier, I just grabbed two suitcases and stuffed everything in willy-nilly. I was getting spooked being in my apartment under these bizarre circumstances. It felt more like I was in someone else’s place doing a bad break-and-enter job.
In the meantime, Shannon had moved on to the bathroom. She was spraying something on the surfaces of everything which made the fingerprints glow under the purple of a hand-held black light.With a tripod, she then snapped photos of them with a digital camera.
I came up behind her and whispered into her ear, “I thought you used some sort of dust for things like this.”
“That is so last year,” came her low response. “Since this is a quick in and out job, not evidence collection for a court case, we’ll get what we need in a fraction of the time.” She sighed.“So far, all I’m seeing are three sets of prints. I’m assuming the ones in the largest group are yours.”
It only took a few moments to grab the toiletries I needed once Shannon had finished. Judging by her sighs in the living room as she looked for more prints, she was having no better luck finding fingerprints that might belong to the Brum.
As each minute ticked by, I began to feel more uneasy. The building was quite still and felt completely deserted. Outside there were no noises of traffic. Even the sound of the nearby Gardiner Expressway seemed to die in the rapidly falling snow.
I quietly moved the blinds to look out. It was coming down harder than ever.
Shannon was now working on the front door, and I went over and said into her ear, “If we don’t get out of here pretty soon, we’re going to be stuck for the night. Remember what the driveway was like coming in!”
�
��I’m going as fast as I can!” she hissed back. She again set up her camera to take pictures of everything the magic chemicals had revealed on the door and frame. Seeing it all made me feel my apartment was incredibly filthy.
After snapping a dozen more shots, Shannon straightened up and cast her eyes around the room. Her eyes stopped on my piano over in the far corner.
“Surely you don’t think they came here and played a few tunes before leaving!” I said, forgetting for the moment that I wasn’t supposed to speak out loud.
Shannon glared at me with one finger firmly pressed to her lips, picked up her equipment and moved across to the piano. I stood at the door unable to relax, jumping at the slightest sound and wanting simply to get the hell away.
Shannon motioned to me. With the help of the little torch, I crossed the room quickly.
She put her lips to my ear. “We may have hit paydirt! I just founda set of prints I haven’t seen anyplace else in the apartment. Have you had anyone over here recently, someone who tickled the old ivories?”
I shook my head.
In a minimum of time, she had what she wanted safely stored in the camera and was back at the door with me.
“Everything will look normal if they come back,” she said, “unless they have a little light like mine, in which case it will all look like this!”
She flicked on a black light, and little bright green glows came from multiple surfaces around the room. It reminded me of fairy lights.
“I love doing that,” Shannon said close to my ear as she slipped out the front door, returning about a minute later. “Well, other than the person down the hall watching a hockey game on TV , it sounds as if this floor is deserted or everyone is asleep. My suggestion is that we do the same thing we did coming in, but in reverse. I’ll go down to the garage first and check it out thoroughly before you come down.”
“Whatever you say.”
I cooled my heels near the third floor lift for a good five minutes, although it seemed more like five hours. Finally the lift moved, and I heard its muffled dings as it passed the ground floor, then the second floor and right past me to the fourth floor. My heart stopped.
Could we have been wrong about the weather keeping the bad guys indoors, or was this just something innocent like a neighbour coming home late?
The stairway door farther down the hall opened, and Shannon stood there waving at me frantically. I grabbed my two suitcases and hightailed it towards her.
“What’s up?”
“Looks as if I was wrong. You must have blown it when you spoke out loud. They couldn’t have been far away, because they got here fast, considering the weather. I stepped out of the elevator just as they pulled in. Thank the lord I’d put the scarf on.”
“Jesus...”
“That’s not the worst part. They’ve parked right next to me!”
Seventeen
What do we do now?” I asked, not caring if I sounded every bit as desperate as I felt.
“All three of them went up to your apartment. What you’re going to do is leave by the front door and start moving fast towards King Street, then turn east. Watch for any cars behind. You see any but your rental, you duck. Got that? If I don’t show up along the way, grab a cab, a streetcar, anything, but get the hell away from here!”
We started down the stairs as rapidly as we could without making noise. At the ground floor, Shannon grabbed my suitcases and continued down towards the garage while I strode off towards the foyer. The security guard was dozing at his desk, the canned laughs of some comedy show on his small TV not disturbing his slumbers. That was a really comforting thing to find out.
At the front door, I turned and looked back. No signs of pursuit. It was one long block up to King Street, and I struggled to make the best time I could. The snow was deep and underneath was a coating of ice. I fell twice, and my shoes quickly filled with snow. It was one thoroughly miserable person who finally made it to King Street and turned right. The street in front and behind was nearly deserted, the closest vehicle being at least three blocks away. I made it to the railway underpass, having barely managed to keep my feet under me all the way down the incline, before Shannon pulled up beside me and flipped the door open.
“Hurry up and get inside,” she said, and oddly she was laughing.
“What’s so funny?” I asked as she pulled away with a lot of fishtailing and spinning of tires as she attempted the upward incline.
“You’ll never guess what just happened!”
“How about we almost got our arses in a sling?”
“I got stuck on the frigging ramp—and they pushed me out!” She laughed again. “Such kind gentlemen!”
“Are they somewhere behind us?”
“My guess is they’re trying to push themselves out. One other thing. Your Brummy friend is not in a very good mood.”
“I can’t imagine why.”
It took us about twice as long to get back to the Four Seasons. Plows were out in force, but frankly, they just couldn’t keep up with the snow.
“You’re not going to make it home in this weather.”
“I know,” she said. “My mom told me the same thing when I called home at dinner.”
“Look, the least I can do is pay for a room for you tonight.”
“That would be very kind of you.”
Only problem was, the hotel had no more rooms. Seems a group of psychiatrists had attended a meeting there that afternoon, and most of them were in the same boat as Shannon.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Quinn,” the desk clerk said sympathetically. “We don’t have a thing. Even our luxury suites are taken.”
Shannon’s shoulders slumped tiredly. I knew that she really wanted to be home with her children. I took her aside.
“If I could get a cot, would you be willing to stay in my room? It’s either that or one of us sleeps in the lobby, and I don’t know how the hotel will feel about that.”
She looked at me levelly. “I guess that would be okay, considering the circumstances.”
I struck out on that, too. Seems there were far more psychiatrists
than I’d imagined. The desk clerk gave me a very strange look when I asked her to please check again on the availability of any cots. No dice.
As we made for the lift with my two bags, I said to Shannon, “I can sleep in the chair. I’m not much of a sleeper anyway. To be quite honest, I suffer from insomnia.”
She gave me a wry look. “Will you stop? I’m a big girl, and I know you have honourable intentions.” As we got on the lift, she added, “You’re very sweet to worry about it, though.”
As soon as we got to the room, she called home, and from my end, it sounded as if Mrs. Cathcart was quite relieved that her impetuous daughter was not going to attempt any more driving that night. Since school was sure to be cancelled the next day, both children were up well past their bedtime—and loving their gran’s indulgence. Shannon didn’t protest about that too much.
By the time the call was over, I’d put all my clothes away and laid out my toiletries in the bathroom, realizing as I did that Shannon would probably nod her head sagely, as I again verified her theory about me.
Shannon had put her feet up on the bed and was tiredly rubbing them. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink. What’s in that bar fridge?”
“Beer, mostly poor, red and white wine—”
“Stop! A glass of white wine would be divine.”
I poured a glass of white for her and red for me. She leaned back against the pillows I’d put up earlier and sighed contentedly. “Wasn’t that great tonight? What a rush!”
“You enjoyed almost getting caught?” I asked in amazement.
“Well, since the kids were born, I’ve avoid potential hazards as much as possible. But truth be told, they do happen occasionally. When I was younger, though, that was what turned my crank about being a cop. You survive by your wits and skill out on the streets when things go down. Tonight made me remember
what it was like.”
I shook my head. “You continually amaze me.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “Really?”
“To be quite honest, I’ve never met anyone quite like you.”
“Are you making a pass at me, mister?”
“Not in the least.”
“Oh.” Swallowing the rest of her wine in one gulp, she got off the bed. “Do you have a long T -shirt or something like that?”
“Certainly. Or would you prefer pyjamas? I have them, too.”
“No. A T -shirt will be fine.”
“You’re sure?” I asked as I handed her an official Quinn Musical Equipment tee.
“Thanks,” Shannon said as she headed for the bath. “I’m going to have a quick hosedown. Could you pour me another glass of wine?”
She was out again within five minutes. The evening attire I’d provided covered her posterior adequately, but even so, she scooted across the room and was under the covers in a flash.
I took the wine over as she sat up in bed. “You’re not embarrassed,are you?” I asked.
A wide grin split her face. “No, modesty forced me to keep my panties on. Sorry. A stupid attempt at a pun...” she mumbled awkwardly when I didn’t respond. I was wondering what was going on in her mind.
I went back to my seat, and we sipped our wine quietly. I’m certain the same scenario was going through each of our heads.
Though mostly hidden by the T -shirt, Shannon’s body was not a disappointment. I had already grown quite fond of her companionship and agile intellect, and under better circumstances, things might have turned out very differently that night.
Considering, however, what had happened the last time I’d allowed my gonads to make a decision for me, it was ultimately not difficult. Shannon and I were working together. She wasn’t some woman I’d met by chance. It was best to keep things on a business footing and not let hormones get in the way.
“So here are the sleeping arrangements as I see them,” I finally said. “You can have the bed, and I’m going to sleep in this chair.”