Serpents Rising (14 page)

Cobb was in a booth at the back. I almost didn't recognize him. Peacoat, green toque, unshaven since I'd last seen him.

I slid into the opposite side of the booth. “Is this the can't-beat-'em-join-'em look?”

“Something like that. I've been spending a fair amount of time around here. I figured better to look like a street person than a cop. People talk to street people.”

“You been to bed yet?”

He shook his head. “Maybe later today.”

“I thought the idea behind me taking on spy duty was to let you get some sleep.”

“The idea behind you taking on spy duty was to let me get some things done.”

I shrugged. “Fair enough. You getting anything done?”

He didn't get a chance to answer. A tall, skinny, early twenty-something server in a black T-shirt with a Harley-Davidson logo on it, camo pants, and a red bandana wrapped around his head came to the table.

“You guys know what you want to order?”

“Not yet,” Cobb told him.

“You wanna start with coffee?”

“Please,” I said. “The hotter the better. And if you've got a mug instead of a cup, that would be great.”

“That sounds like a plan,” Cobb said. “I'll do that too.”

When Red Bandana was gone I thought again about asking Cobb what he'd been doing with his free time, but decided it wasn't important.

The server returned back seconds later with two coffees, both in mugs.

Cobb sipped. Tasting it like wine. He nodded approval. “That'll be fine,” he said.

Red Bandana started to roll his eyes, looked at Cobb, and changed his mind. Walked off. I grinned at Cobb. “A street person with attitude.”

“But lovable when you get to know me.”

I warmed my hands on the mug. “You planning on filling me in on what you've learned?”

He shrugged. “Not much really. I've been spending a lot of time down in that area where Jill saw Jay. I figured for him to be going in that direction, he maybe has a place to stay somewhere around there. I've talked to a bunch of the locals and three different people have seen Jay in the last few days, all of them in that same general area, but nobody actually talked to him beyond saying hi. And all of them said the same thing — Jay seemed to be going somewhere, no time to stand around.”

“You think he knows the MFs are looking for him?”

Another shrug. “Hard to say. I'm guessing he knows that some bad people aced his old man. Unless he's living under a rock. The underground communication on the street is pretty effective.”

“That could explain why he seems to be in a hurry all the time. Maybe he figures he could be next and is scared to stay in one place for very long.”

Cobb didn't answer as Red Bandana returned to our table.

“Know what you want yet?”

“Sorry,” I said. “We've kind of been talking. We'll get on it right away.”

As the server started to turn away, Cobb said, “How long have you worked here?”

The young guy turned back, looked at Cobb, then at me. Tense. “Almost a year.”

“You have a bike?”

His body relaxed as he said, “Yeah, a '99 Softtail Standard FXST. Cool machine. I love my Harley.” He pointed to the logo on the T-shirt.”

“Sounds like a nice machine. So is that part of the deal? You have to have a Harley to work here?” Cobb took a sip of his coffee.

“No, but some of us do.”

“What's your name? I like to know my server's name, you know?'

I looked at Cobb. I thought he was laying it on a little thick.

Red Bandana might have been thinking the same thing. He stiffened a little. But he did answer.

“Davy.”

“Yeah? I got a nephew named Davy. Not David or Dave. He's Davy.”

“Yeah. Well, you just give me a wave when you're ready to order.” Davy started to leave again.

“So Davy, you get a lot of people with bikes come in here? You know, it's called the Harley Diner and everything. I figured maybe it's popular with Harley owners.”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that. We get some bikers in here. Anyway, I better get back to work. Just yell when you know what you want.”

Cobb nodded.

I decided not to ask what the point of the exchange with Davy was. “Think Jay Blevins has heard about
us
looking for him?”

Cobb shook his head slowly, picked up his spoon, stirred his coffee, though he hadn't put anything in it.

“Scared kid, maybe strung out. Hard to figure what he knows … or what he's thinking.”

“Maybe.” I wasn't sure I agreed but I wasn't sure I
dis
agreed.

“I keep thinking about what Blevins told me,” Cobb said. “About one of the guys in the crack house being on the phone, doing a mock play-by-play of him being in there. Using Blevins's name … and Jay's. Whoever was on the other end of the line on the phone knows about Jay.”

“And if it is the MFs and that's what they're thinking …”

“Uh-huh.”

“Why doesn't the kid just get the hell out of town for a while?”

Cobb thought about that. “He's a kid. He's not sure what to do other than stay out of sight. And he might be a little shy on travel funds. And if he's using he'll want to be close to where he can get whatever it is he's on.”

“Maybe. And Zoe could keep him here too. He might not want to get too far from her.”

“Entirely possible,” Cobb said.

Neither of us said anything for a while. I drank some coffee. Cobb lifted his mug but didn't drink, studied it instead.

I broke the silence. “What about the Audi cruising the warehouse last night?”

“Yeah, that bothers me. If the MFs know about Zoe, they're likely to try to use her to get to Jay.”

“That doesn't sound nice,” I said.

“These aren't nice people. Okay, let's order, then we'll talk some more.”

Cobb waved an arm and Davy must been looking our way. He came to our table briskly. Businesslike. He had his pad and pencil at the ready.

We ordered. Pancakes for Cobb. Bacon and eggs with OJ for me.

Davy looked up from the order pad. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, one thing,” Cobb said. “You mentioned that the biker set comes in here.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Including gang type bikers?”

Some hesitation as Davy studied Cobb trying to get a read on him. Cobb kept smiling like everybody's favourite uncle.

Davy was shuffling his feet, antsy.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“I'm wondering if any of the guys in the MFs ever stop by. You know who the MFs are.” Cobb made it a statement rather than a question.

Davy thought for a few seconds, began backing away, wanting to leave.

Cobb lowered his voice.

“I'm looking for an old school buddy of mine, he's one of the MFs — Blair Scubberd, Rock, the ol' Rockman.” Cobb grinned like he was remembering one of the ol' Rockman's most hilarious moments. “You know him?”

Davy shook his head. Licked his lips.

“But the MFs come in here, right? I was told they did and I was also told I might be able to find Rock here, that he stops in himself now and again.”

“I better get your order in.” He turned away then back to us. “You guys cops?”

Cobb shrugged, which didn't answer the question. “Thing is, I'd really appreciate it if you didn't mention to my pal Rock that I'm looking for him. You know, if he ever happens to drop by. I want it to be a surprise when I finally catch up with him.”

Davy turned again and this time kept going.

“You ruined his day,” I said.

“Maybe. I've done some more checking on Scubberd. Turns out he was away for a while. Maybe setting up some things in Vancouver. That's the scuttlebutt. I've got a call in to a cop friend of mine out there. See what I can find out. Anyway, our boy Rock has been back in Calgary about a year, and since his return things have been picking up for the MFs, business-wise.”

“Drugs?”

Cobb shrugged. “My guess.”

“I wonder why the change.”

“Starts with M and ends in O-N-E-Y, I'm thinking.”

I spent a couple of minutes looking around the place. All shapes, sizes, and ages in terms of customers. Mark of a good place.

Davy arrived with the food.

“That was fast, Davy,” Cobb said. “Appreciate it.”

Davy set the plates down. “Anything else?”

Cobb looked at me. I shook my head. “We're good, thanks.”

For a couple of minutes Cobb and I worked the breakfast in silence. I picked up a piece of bacon, looked across the table at him.

“Let me ask you something.”

“Ask away.”

“I'm not sure I understand your strategy here. Telling Davy there that you're looking for Scubberd.”

Cobb swallowed, dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. “It's a gamble, and if I'm wrong it isn't a big deal, but I see our boy Davy as somebody you tell him not to say something, he'll spill over like Niagara Falls.”

“So he tells Scubberd about you and let's assume you don't get shot. What's the best case scenario?”

“We get together, me and the ol' Rockman, and we … talk.”

“Okay, let's say Scubberd decides he'd like to chat with you. What exactly do you see as the main topic of conversation?”

“You mean after we discuss the Stampeders' prospects for next season?”

“Yeah, after that.”

“I thought maybe I'd ask him if he or his boys snuffed Larry Blevins, and if they did, is that going to be enough to satisfy their thirst for revenge. Or words to that effect.”

“Any place in particular you want your personal effects sent?”

“Oh ye of little faith.”

We concentrated again on our breakfasts. Mine was excellent, but a night without sleep was beginning to take its toll and I was having to work at eating. Cobb, on the other hand, who had got even less sleep in the last forty-eight hours, was downing his pancakes and ham with gusto.

He came up for air, took a couple of gulps of coffee, and looked over at me. “Anything new come up in your research into Donna's past life?”

“Yeah,” I said, “but nothing really definitive.” I told him about the photo album from her grade eleven year. “I know it's not much, but combined with the note and my conversation with Kelly, it feels like there might be more out there that I
don't
know.”

Cobb looked at me, chewed some more, didn't say anything.

“I stopped by her high school today, met the principal who was also the principal when Donna went there. She was nice but not much help.”

Cobb thought for a minute. “You're right. You haven't got a whole lot that could be called definitive. But the album, the note … if it was me, I'd be at least curious. Let me know if there's anything I can do.”

“I will. Thanks.”

We ate some more, finished the juice and coffee, and Cobb paid for breakfast. No sign of Davy as we headed for the door. Outside the day was looking promising — blue skies, almost no wind, and a temperature that was approaching comfortable.

“Now what?” I asked.

“I'm guessing you're pretty tired, but if you've got anything left in the tank I'd like to have a chat with Zoe. If she's in the line of fire, we need to do something. And we probably need to do it quickly.”

“I'm fine,” I said. “Let's go.”

W
e left the Accord and took the Jeep back to the warehouse. No signs of life as we pulled up in front. I had my head on a swivel as I looked for the silver Audi, but there were no signs of it either.

We walked around to the back of the building, stepped carefully through the debris, and once inside made our way up the stairs to the third floor. It was easier to navigate with daylight flooding in through windows and other less formal openings. We walked down the hall to where Zoe was living and Cobb rapped on the door. At first I didn't hear anything inside, but eventually the sounds of someone moving around inside filtered through the door.

A female voice — I guessed it was Zoe's — came from just the other side of the door.

“Who's there?”

“Cobb and Cullen, the two guys who were here looking for Jay Blevins the other night. We'd like to talk to you.”

No answer from the voice inside the apartment and no shuffling sounds. Then some whispering, a piece of furniture scraping on the floor, a crash followed by a male voice in a loud stage whisper. “Fuck.” More shuffling sounds.

The door opened. Zoe stood looking at us. She was wearing jeans and a grey hoodie. She was in bare feet and sporting a ball cap that said “Beer for My Horses.” Her ponytail was pulled through the opening at the back of the cap. She didn't look like she'd just woken up.

Behind her the twosome I'd seen the night before were standing side by side. Both looked worried although the boy's concern appeared to be somewhat distilled by whatever substances he'd taken in over the last hours. I couldn't tell with the girl.

Both were wearing blue jeans with holes in the knees, thighs, and a couple of other locations, and T-shirts. Hers was pink and showed Homer and Marge Simpson proclaiming, “We Are the Best America has to Offer.” The boy's T-shirt was the yellow of a cigarette burn on a counter­top. No writing. They too were in bare feet, but unlike Zoe they looked as if they'd been sleeping right up until Cobb's knock on the door. Mussed up hair, clothes not quite right.

“Hi,” Zoe said.

“Hello, Zoe. Mind if we come in?”

“I've got company.” She wasn't being rude, at least I didn't think so, just stating a fact.

“I can see that.” Cobb nodded. “But we'd like to talk to you. It's important.”

“Is it about Jay? Did you find him?”

Cobb nodded. “Indirectly. It's about Jay, but we haven't found him, not yet.”

“Then what…?”

“I think we should do this in there,” Cobb said.

The boy inside the room took a step forward, which put him alongside Zoe. “If you don't want them to come in, we don't have to let them in, Zo,” he said.

He was maybe as big as me except lighter. He had a soft face and a softer looking body. Actually, he looked like a nice enough kid, maybe even someone I could have a conversation with in a different set of circumstances.

Cobb looked at him. “Son, this would be way over your head even if your head was clear, which it's not, so this isn't the time for you to try to impress your girl there with how tough you are.”

The kid swallowed and I could see he was trying to come up with a suitable reply.

“Chill, Owen,” Zoe said. “I know these guys.”

She pulled the door a little farther open to give us room to move inside. Owen stood his ground for a two count, saving face, then stepped back.

I moved ahead, thinking it might be better for all of us if I was first into the room. I smiled at Owen and the girl. Cobb followed me in. I doubted very much that he was also smiling.

I stopped in about the middle of the room and looked around. Two sleeping bags and a couple of blankets were jumbled on the floor below the window. On the sill a small metal container sat open with five tablets, all different colours, and three of them engraved with words: one said
Kiss
, another
Love
, and the third had
You Me
across the surface.

Ecstasy. I'd seen it before during some of my research into the culture. Cobb was standing next to me but wasn't looking at any of the stuff that had to do with Owen and his girl.

“I think it would be best if we spoke in private,” he told Zoe.

“No chance, bud,” Owen said.

Cobb turned to look at him. “You got a last name?”

“What?”

“A last name. You got one?”

“Harkness. What's it to ya?”

“Okay, Owen Harkness, you've pissed me off twice and we've only known each other about three minutes. If you talk again when I'm not speaking to you, you'll be eating your meals through a straw for the next couple of weeks. You got that, son?”

“Don't call me son.”

A beat. Then Cobb said, “Fair enough.”

“Jen,” Zoe said. “Why don't you take Owen back in that other room for a couple of minutes?”

“Are you sure, Zo?” Owen said. You had to admire the kid's try.

“I told you I know them. It's okay.”

Jen and Owen moved slowly to the other room, Owen looking back as he went in and closed the door behind him.

“You guys want to sit down?” Zoe started moving the sleeping bags out of the way.

“No, thanks. We're fine.”

She straightened, looked at me, then at Cobb.

“So you haven't found Jay?”

“No we haven't. A few leads but he's been … elusive. How about you? Have you heard from him?”

“I got a message. He told a person we both know to tell me that he's okay and that he'll see me as soon as he can. I didn't figure there was much there that could help you so that's why I didn't call you.”

Cobb shoved his hands in his pockets. “The mutual friend, did he say where he saw Jay?”

“Uh-huh. Outside that pub down close to 12th Street. He was walking along and Jay came up behind him, called to him. All Jay said was what I told you. Then he disappeared. Went down an alley, walking really fast.”

“When was this?”

“Yesterday. Howler came right away and told me about it.”

“Howler?” I asked.

“That's what everybody calls him. I don't even know his real name. Kyle maybe, but I'm not sure.”

“Okay, Zoe, we appreciate the information, but that's not why we're here. We think you need to take some precautions.”

“Precautions?”

“We think the guys who are after Jay might know about this place. If we're right and if they come around looking for him, you could be in danger. Especially if they figure out you and Jay are friends. These people aren't somebody to mess with. They'll get what they want and they won't care who's in the line of fire.”

“What makes you think they know about this place?”

“We've been watching the building. For that very reason. But we can't be here or with you all the time. It might be best if you went somewhere else for a while.”

“You've been spying on me.”

“If we'd wanted to spy on you we'd have followed you. We haven't done that. We were watching your place because we're concerned about your safety.”

“I'm not leaving here.”

“Listen, Zoe, I get why you want to stay here. But Jay isn't going to be coming by. He told you that himself in that message. And if you do stay here and these guys come around,
Killer
in there,” Cobb nodded in the direction of the other room, “isn't going to protect you.”

“Do you have a place you could maybe go for a few days?” I asked.

She studied the floor for several seconds, then looked up and nodded slowly. “I guess so. How soon would I need to leave?”

“Right away is best,” Cobb said.

“Right away?”

“As in now. We can help you pack up your stuff and give you a ride. Zoe, it's really important that we get you out of here … now. And that you don't tell anyone where you're going. Not the man down the hall, not your friends, definitely not Batman and Robin.” Another glance at the door to the other room.

“You know, calling them names doesn't make you a bigger man.” Zoe looked at Cobb.

He looked at her, then nodded. “You're right. Sarcasm's a character flaw of mine. I appreciate that you pointed it out to me.” He smiled an apology and I think he meant it. “It's really important that you keep a low profile for a while.”

“How long?”

“I don't know.”

“And if you find Jay?”

“You'll be the first to know. That's a promise.”

Zoe said, “I need a couple of hours to at least set things up with the people I'm going to stay with. I can't just drop in on them.”

“Fine,” Cobb nodded. “Anything we can do? Give you a lift over there?”

“Uh-uh. I don't want to show up with a strange guy who's old enough to be my dad and ask if I can move in for a while.”

I could see Cobb fighting off a smile. “I understand … I think.”

“Just let me go talk to the people I'm going to stay with, then I'll come back here and get my stuff. Meet me here in two hours and I'll be ready to go.”

“I've been married for nineteen years, Zoe. My wife's been ready when she said she was going to be maybe twice in all that time.”

Zoe laughed at that. “I'll be ready when you get back here.”

“See you in two hours.” Cobb pulled a twenty out of his pocket, unfolded it, and handed it to Zoe. “Do me a favour and give this to those two. Tell them to get some breakfast. They've got real good pancakes at the Harley Diner.”

She looked at the twenty. I could see she was thinking about handing it back to him — one of those
we don't need your charity
moments
.
But if that's what she was thinking she didn't say it. Instead she pocketed the money, nodded, and smiled at Cobb. “What about me? I just might be hungry too, you know.”

Cobb grinned. “No time right now. You need to get moving. We'll take you for something to eat on the way to the other place. Two hours.” Zoe was already heading for the other room. We left her place, worked our way along the hall, down the stairs, and back to the Jeep.

Cobb had just hit the automatic unlock button on his key ring when the Beach Boys' “Help Me Rhonda” announced that someone was calling his cell phone. He pulled it from a jacket pocket, said “Hello,” then listened. He turned and walked away from me. Private call.

He came walking back a couple of minutes later looking serious.

“Bad news?”

He shook his head. “Listen, Adam, I was … wondering if you could do me a favour.”

“I'll do my best. What's up?”

“That was my wife. I forgot we're supposed to meet with Pete's teachers this morning. He's doing the rebellious thing and not exactly lighting it up in school. I haven't been around much since this thing with Blevins started. This is kind of a command performance and with all the —”

“No need for explanations. What can I do to help?”

“Any chance you could pick up Zoe in a couple of hours? Load up her stuff and get her to her new place?”

“Sure,” I said. “No problem. I might just grab a nap for an hour and I'll be fresh as a daisy.”

“Are you sure this is okay? It feels like you're doing more than your share here.”

“Hey, I majored in moving when I was in college. If it wasn't me it was one of my friends, seemed like every week. I hate to let those hard-earned university skills go to waste.”

Cobb smiled and nodded. “Let's go. I'll drop you at your car.”

It wasn't the best sleep I'd ever had and it definitely wasn't the longest, but when the two alarm clocks and my cell phone alarm went off, almost in unison, I woke up feeling better than I thought I would. A twenty minute shower-and-shave later, I looked in the mirror. Not what I'd call good-as-new, but an improvement over what I'd looked like pre-nap.

I stopped at a Second Cup on the way back to the warehouse. I picked up four cups of coffee and fixings and pulled up opposite the warehouse with about five minutes to spare. When I hit the third floor without spilling any of the coffee or dropping anything, I was feeling pretty good about myself.

The sense of contentment disappeared about halfway down the hall. I stopped before I got to the door to Zoe's place. There was something wrong. First of all, the door was open. It had been closed all of the times Cobb and I had been there previously.

And it was quiet. Way too quiet. No music coming from the DVD player. No voices. No low hum from the space heaters.

No sound.

I set the coffees down in the hall and eased my way to the door.

I reached for my cell phone and realized I'd left it in the car. Stupid. I looked around for a two-by-four, a piece of metal, anything that I might be able to use for protection once I moved through that door.

There was nothing. I shook myself. “Come on,” I said barely aloud, trying to will myself some confidence.

My whispered words seemed to echo off the wall at the end of the hall. I edged forward, closer to the door. Then closer still, trying to stretch my neck forward so I could get a look inside and still somehow keep the rest of my body out in the hall.

As I passed the door's edge I was able to see inside. I could only see the part of the room that was straight ahead. The window looking out at the street below. The sleeping bags were gone, the ecstasy too.

I forced myself to breathe. Once. Twice. Unpleasant smell — I wasn't sure what it was.

I stepped into the room, looking first to the left. Nothing. Messier than before but that was all. I turned.

And saw the blood. Realized that was the smell. I moved forward, careful not to step in it. I knew I had to look behind the door that was blocking my view of that part of the room, the part where the blood seemed to have come from. And except for the night of the fire I have never dreaded more having to look at something I knew I didn't want to see.