Blood and Justice (18 page)
“Do you have a few minutes? I would like to talk to you about an important matter.”
“Mackay glanced quickly around as if looking for another victim to reprimand, and then looked at his watch, and said, “All right. I can spare a few minutes. Let’s go to my office.”
Jake followed him. He noticed MacKay had a strange gait. A bit bow-legged, with a slight limp, favoring his right leg as he walked. He wore a butcher’s hat, covering most of his prematurely bald head.
Reaching the door of the office, Mackay pushed it open and motioned for Jake to go in. MacKay followed behind, and sat at a small desk.
“Have a seat,” MacKay said, waving toward a fold-up chair on the other side of the desk. “Now, what may I do for you, Mr. Lincoln?”
Jake sat, carefully testing his weight on the tiny chair, before finally trusting it would hold him. He leaned back, and looked at MacKay.
“Mr. MacKay, I don’t know if you’re aware, but a woman was murdered in her apartment yesterday afternoon, shortly after coming from this store.”
MacKay raised his eyebrows.
Jake continued, “I’m trying to cover every possibility of who may’ve killed her, and how it might’ve happened.”
“Of course. Of course,” MacKay agreed. “How may I help?”
“It’s possible she may’ve been followed, and I was hoping you may have some security camera footage that could shed some light on this.”
MacKay swept off his cap and tossed it on the desk. He rubbed the back of his shiny head and said, “Well, we do have some in-store cameras. There’s one covering the cash area, and two at the back of the store. Nothing outside though.”
“Is everything recorded?”
“Yes, it’s all on tape, and the tapes are on a one week rotation.”
“That’s perfect. May I take them with me?”
“Well . . .”
Jake interrupted, “It may take some time to go over them, and needless to say, it’s important.”
MacKay studied Jake a moment, and then swept up the phone. He waited a moment, and then spoke into the receiver, “Bob, I need the camera footage from yesterday. Hold on.” He covered the receiver and looked at Jake. “What time?”
Jake thought a moment before answering, “Probably everything from about noon yesterday, until three o’clock or so.”
Mackay spoke to Bob. “Noon till three. Yesterday.” Silence, and then, “Ok, great. Drop them into my office right away.” He hung up, and said to Jake, “It’ll just take a few minutes. Bob’ll bring them right over.”
“Excellent. Thank you, Mr. Mackay.”
“So, Mr. Lincoln, how do you know the woman had been here?”
“We found her shopping inside her handbag. The receipt was from Mortinos.”
“I see. I see.” He rubbed his chin.
“This information hasn’t been released to the public, so please keep it quiet for now, but inside her handbag we also found a pork chop with a Mortinos label on it. It wasn’t on the receipt.”
MacKay frowned. “So she stole it?”
“It appears so.”
MacKay shook his head and said, “Well, we have a lot of stuff go missing. You’d be surprised what people will steal.”
“Yeah, I’m sure it’s a bit of a headache at times.”
“Yeah,” MacKay agreed, and then sighed. “But I guess it’s a fact of life.”
There was a tap at the office door, and it swung open. Bob appeared with a grocery bag in his hand. “Here’s the tapes, Mr. MacKay.”
“Thanks Bob.” He reached forward and took the bag, handing it to Jake.
Jake stood. “I’ll get these back to you ASAP.”
MacKay stood and waved it off. “No need to worry about returning them. We have lots.”
They shook hands, and Jake thanked him again as he left.
Saturday, August 13th, 3:40 PM
HIS late lunch dishes were washed, Jenny was fed, and the house was sparkling clean, just the way Mother would do it.
But right now, he needed a bit of rest to prepare himself for the task ahead. He slumped down into his favorite chair and closed his eyes.
He thought back about his first time. Joey. Joey was his first. Certainly, Joey had deserved what he got. With Joey, it was intensely personal. There was no more bullying after that. The other boys had left him alone after Joey disappeared. Disappeared. Hah. Not quite. He chuckled. He knew where Joey was. Right where he belonged.
But he was thankful. Thankful the experience with Joey in the woods that day had encouraged him. Raised him to new levels, you might say.
And then, there was that Bronson character. He wondered why it took him so long after Joey. The rush he felt when he’d tasted Bronsons life on his tongue had been absolutely inspiring.
And then, that old hag he saw at Mortinos. The filthy pig. But still, she’d been just what he needed. The taste of her life in his mouth had been absolutely spectacular.
He looked ahead to this afternoon. This was something he needed. A refill. He shuddered once and waited until the feeling that thoroughly filled him had subsided, and then opened his eyes.
He climbed from the chair, and walked purposefully into the kitchen. There in the bottom drawer, packed safely under a stack of daisy fresh towels, Father’s old 22 revolver. Best to take that just in case. He reached into the drawer and removed it gently. It would hold six bullets in the cylinder. He reached into the drawer, and pushing open a box of ammunition, he selected one and slipped it into the last empty slot. He spun the cylinder, and tested the grip. Feels good. The revolver had a holster but Jeremy ignored it. He liked the feel of the metal next to his skin. He shoved it into his waistband, securely behind his belt, and pulled his shirt over it.
He removed his Bowie knife and leg-strap from the drawer. He handled it lovingly before belting the strap into place. He slipped the knife inside the sheath, and covered it with his pant leg.
Everything else had been previously taken care of. He already had the name, so it wasn’t hard to find the address he needed. That’s what phone books were for. He checked his pocket to make sure he still had the slip of paper, and then grabbed his ring of keys off the hook by the door, and went outside, carefully locking up behind him.
His car came to life immediately as he turned the key. He dropped the shifter into drive and spun around on the loose gravel, heading for Richmond Hill.
Saturday, August 13th, 4:00 PM
RANDOLPH Farley sat in an aging leather chair in his apartment. He looked around at the mess. Those cops certainly weren’t too careful when they searched this apartment. They really trashed the place, and hauled out almost everything that wasn’t nailed down.
He cursed at his luck. He knew they had him. That video had been proof enough, and then the raid on his apartment had clinched it. He wished now he could’ve gotten rid of everything.
Dumb. Dumb. Dumb.
He had hoped his lawyer could explain it away somehow, but the stupid jerk hadn’t even tried.
He was glad he’d had enough money stashed away in his bank accounts to cover the bail, but now his lawyer is urging him to take a plea bargain in turn for a full confession, including the guys he sells the stuff to.
The mouthpiece said he could likely get off with a misdemeanor, or maybe even full immunity, since the fences he dealt with were big time, and would lead to arresting many more fish, better than just him and his petty little crimes.
That might be the way to go, but ratting out Estefano and the other clowns might get his throat slit. Even now, he may be in danger, because he knows too much.
Maybe he should call Estefano before Estefano calls him.
He still had his cell phone, so he dug it from his pocket and hit speed dial eight.
“Yeah.”
“Is Estefano around?”
“Who’s asking?”
“It’s Farley. Tell him it’s important.”
The phone went quiet. Farley could hear something banging and humming in the background. He waited.
“Farley! You got anything for me?” It was a high-pitched voice.
“Hey Estefano,” he greeted him. “Nope, I don’t have anything for you right now. Just want to let you know something.”
“Yeah?”
“They busted me. Got caught heisting a ring. But don’t worry. I didn’t say nothin’.”
Estefano whistled. “Busted?”
“Yup.”
“Listen Farley, you did right by not talking. It really wouldn’t go so good if you said anything you shouldn’t.”
Farley shuddered at the thought of one of Estefano’s boys coming after him. “Like I said, I didn’t say nothin’. I know better.”
“I’m a little concerned, Farley.”
“Don’t be, Estefano. No reason to be concerned.”
“You remember Tommy Nascap, don’t you?”
“Yes?”
“Yeah, I really liked him,” Estefano squeaked. “Too bad about him.”
Farley was quiet. His hand started to tremble a bit.
Estefano continued, “Ok, you take good care of yourself.”
“I will Estefano,” Farley said, and then heard a click.
He sat there for a minute. He remembered Tommy Nascap well. He would never forget him. He sure didn’t want to end up like Tommy. Found under a bridge with his throat slit ear to ear. He shuddered again at the thought.
He sat back and closed his eyes, trying to relax. After a minute, he felt a little better.
He grabbed his Toronto Blue Jays cap and slapped it on his head. At least the cops hadn’t taken that. It’s a wonder.
He was hungry, and decided to head on out to Phil’s to grab a bite.
He climbed from his chair, and headed for the door.
Saturday, August 13th, 4:35 PM
THE south end of Richmond Hill is considered an outer suburb of the city. Jeremy stood on the sidewalk there, on Benson Street, and looked across at a pair of structures, each with three floors. Probably about six apartments on each floor. The one to the left was the one that received his attention.
Pedestrians hurried up and down around him, not paying him any mind. He had his baseball cap pulled low over his face, just in case.
After carefully looking both ways first, he crossed the street and entered the lobby of 366. He scanned the directory on the wall. Farley was listed as apartment 102. He leaned back against the wall and waited.
He didn’t have to wait long. In a couple of minutes, a pair of annoying teenage girls came through the outer door, not even looking at him as they yakked on about some girl who tried to mess with their BF.
Jeremy rolled his eyes and waited patiently. One girl reached into the pocket of her over-tight jeans, removed a key and unlocked the door leading into the building. As the girls passed through the door, he stuck his foot out, and stopped it from closing.
He watched until the girls disappeared into the elevator, and then swung the door open and walked through.
An arrow pointed that the stairs were to the left. Best take the stairs. He pushed open the stairwell door and went through. He stopped a moment and adjusted the weapon stuffed into the front of his pants, and then went up the stairs to the first floor.
He pushed open the stairwell door and peeked into the hallway. All clear.
He walked boldly down the hall, checking the numbers on the doors, stopping at 102.
He slipped the gun from his pants, holding it firmly in his right hand, and rapped on the door with the other.
No answer.
He rapped again.
No answer.
Jeremy frowned. Seems like maybe he’s not home.
He looked up and down the hall, and then pulled his wallet from his back pocket and slid out his Mortinos Club Card. He stuck it in the crack of the door beside the lock, and fiddled with it a bit.
Click.
The latch moved back, and he swung the door open slowly.
“Hello,” he called. Can’t be too careful.
No answer.
He moved into the room quietly, and eased the door closed behind him.
His gun was ready. He called again, “Anybody home?”
Nobody was.
He poked around the apartment. Checked out the kitchen. The single bedroom. A heap of clothes were tossed on a chair in the bedroom. He saw a t-shirt that read “Up Yours” and smiled grimly.
He’s been here. That’s the shirt he was wearing on the news.
He strolled back out to the living room area and took a seat in the aging leather chair. From there, he could see the door.
He waited.
Saturday, August 13th, 4:45 PM
RANDOLPH FARLEY had a full belly. Not too full, just comfortable. He pushed back his plate, sat back in the booth and belched. A woman at a nearby table frowned at him, and he smiled back.
He ogled the pretty young waitress in the short skirt. His gaze moved up and down, taking in the sight. She sure is cute. She looked his way, and he waved her over.
“Hey, baby,” he said, as she approached his table. “Can I get the check?”
She gave him a sexy smile and looked at him from the corner of her eye, as she reached into the pocket of her skirt and removed a pad. She leafed through it, scribbled something, ripped a page free, and laid it on the table in front of him. She slipped him another teasing smile over her shoulder as she turned and walked away.
Farley watched her walk a moment, and then tossed a couple of dollars on the table, grabbed the check, and headed for the cashier.
He paid for his meal, and walked out into the street.
He was in a good mood now. He didn’t know why exactly. He was facing some possible jail time, but he hummed to himself as he strolled up the sidewalk.
Reaching his building, he unlocked the inner door, and took the stairs two at a time to his apartment.
Slipping his key into the lock, he turned it, and it clicked and snapped. He turned the knob and pushed open the door, stepped in, and kicked it shut with his foot.
“What the . . .” He raised his hands half way up and stared at the guy sitting in his chair. The guy was pointing a gun at him.