Loose Ends (14 page)

“Goddamn it! You
can't
handle it. Believe me, I know! My little sister died with a spike in her arm. She told me she could handle it, too!”

Danny couldn't hear Marcie's reply, but he had no problem hearing Crystal.

“Bullshit! Soon it'll be two or three times a day, then six times a day!”

Marcie didn't respond. Crystal grabbed her by the arm and said, “Come on, I'm takin' ya to buy you some dinner. You're as small as a mouse. In fact, I think that's what I'm gonna start callin' ya. Mouse!”

As Crystal led Marcie away, she glared at Danny. He quickly stood up and entered the tavern. He saw Red sitting near the pool tables and took a seat where he could discreetly watch. He saw Leonard walk over and say something to her. She laughed and slapped him on the arm. Leonard then walked over to the rear door and disappeared outside.

Red stared after Leonard as he left. When the door banged shut, she held up her hand and cupped her fingers to her palm a couple of times as she waved goodbye. It was how a little girl would wave. It didn't suit her.

Minutes later, Jack entered the bar as the sound of sirens came to a screaming halt in the rear alley. A crowd spilled out of the Black Water to see what the commotion was. Jack glanced at Danny, who gave him a subtle
shrug. They joined the crowd in the alley. A police officer gestured for everyone to stand back while her partner radioed for assistance.

Leonard was sprawled on his back behind her. A profuse amount of blood had pooled by his mouth and the end of his tongue lay on his chest. More blood had run down from his forehead where the word
RAT
had been carved. Jack saw that the blood had stopped running.
His heart isn't pumping. He's dead.

The crowd eventually started to disperse down the alley. Red caught up to Jack and tugged on his sleeve.

“Let's take a walk,” she said. “Gotta talk to ya.”

“What was that all about?”

“Looks like he musta been a rat. Good thing someone offed him.”

“Right on. So what do ya want to talk to me about?”

“There's gonna be some changes around here. Spider's gonna be handlin' most of the inside stuff from now on. He'll be workin' for me.”

“Spider? I won't deal with him. Someone at his table got busted just the other night.”

“Relax. That's why I'm talkin' to ya. I'll still come down here sometimes. With the amount you been scorin', I'll deal with you direct. I got a pager now. If I'm not around, you can give me a buzz. It's the type that vibrates. Think I'll keep it in my crotch, so call me often.”

They rounded the corner toward the hotel and saw Crystal and Marcie walking ahead of them. Red called Marcie over.

“What are you doin' with Crystal?” she demanded. “You're supposed to be workin'!”

“She just bought me some food. I was hungry.”

“Yeah? You got what ya owe me?”

“No. I just got here when she came along, so…”

“Next time work first and eat later.”

Marcie nodded her head, then looked nervously at Jack.

“Ain't interested, girl,” he said, then looked at Red and added, “This kid looks pretty young. With what just happened out back, there's gonna be a lot of heat around here.”

Red thought for a moment, then replied, “You're right. You should be an investment consultant or some-thin'.” She turned to Marcie and said, “Someone carved up a rat out back. Fuck off home now. Give ya a few days off before comin' down here again.”

Jack poured Danny another shot of Jose Cuervo and then leaned back on his sofa and put his feet up on the coffee table.

“So Bart and Rex must have rolled Leonard instead of busting him,” said Danny.

“I hadn't counted on that, but it's good police work. They were working their way up.”

“Yeah, but it was us who set him up. What we did got him killed.”

“That was a bonus. Except now we better give things a few days to cool off. His murder could attract some heat from the City.”

“Getting someone killed was a bonus?”

“Took out a rung in the ladder. Red is dealing direct with Wrath now. I'll start buying more until I get to the kilo level. It'll just be a matter of time before we find someone to roll over.”

“Yeah, like Leonard?”

“Somebody a lot smarter and somebody with more to lose. Someone on the inside. Leonard was small-time. He probably had a loose tongue.”

“Yeah, real loose. The end of it fell out on his chest. And where the hell do you plan on coming up with the money to buy quantity?”

“Thinking of Leonard gives me an idea. I still have those two ounces I bought from Red last time. I'll use that to get money. All we have to do is —”

“You're not! Tell me you don't plan on selling that shit.”

“Christ, Danny!” Jack slammed his drink down on the end table. “You don't know me at all, do you?”

No, I don't. And that's what scares the shit out of me!

Louie Grazia hung up the phone and pursed his lips while straightening his tie. Why did Assistant Commissioner Isaac want to see him? Isaac had a reputation for being both fair and firm. But he also had the power to make or break a person's career at the snap of his fingers.

Maybe it wasn't really serious. Had someone been in his office again? Isaac did have a quirk about his personal office. Louie recalled several months earlier when Isaac came in to work and found a small sticky mark on the glass top of his desk. No doubt someone drinking in the officer's lounge the night before had gone in to use his phone and put a drink down. Isaac was furious and threatened harsh punishment if it ever happened again.

“Go on in, Louie, he's waiting for you.”

Louie smiled cordially at the secretary, then walked across the plush carpet leading into Isaac's spacious office. Isaac was seated behind a large oak desk.

Directly behind him was a stuffed buffalo head mounted high on the wall. The curved black horns and shaggy head gave it a majestic appearance as it stared out over the room. The men under his command had presented it to him years earlier as a gift when he was transferred out of the Yukon. Below it were two lances crisscrossed on the wall.

Isaac looked formidable. He was a big man who had a bushy grey handlebar moustache, thick grey eyebrows, and a horseshoe pattern of grey hair around a bald head. He liked to canoe, and his large, muscular arms handled this hobby with ease. His eyes were a deep brown that at times looked black. He was a no-nonsense type who expected nothing short of excellence from his subordinates. Those who didn't measure up were transferred or forced to retire.

Beside a Bible on his desk was a picture of his wife. Several family pictures lay flat on the table under the glass. In front of his desk were several overstuffed brown leather chairs.

The curtains on the large windows were open, giving an unobstructed view of the mountains. The sun shining in cast a reverent glow over the room.

Louie recognized the long, serious face of Inspector Ted Nash. He was in charge of the Vancouver City Police Vice Section. Beside him sat Wigmore, whose much smaller office was across the hall.

“Good morning, Louie. Have a seat. I believe you and Ted know each other?”

“Yes, sir, we met once before, thank you.”

“Read this report Ted brought over and tell me what you think.”

Louie took the report. It outlined the murder of a Leonard Waschuk, who was found behind the Black Water Hotel three days ago.
Damn it! What the hell has
Jack been up to?
Louie silently read on. Leonard was shot upwards through the lower jaw with a .22-calibre pistol. The end of his tongue had been cut off and placed on his chest. The word
RAT
had been carved on his forehead. Louie glanced at a colour photograph of the victim before reading further. A potato was visible beside Leonard's head.

“A .22-calibre slug,” remarked Louie. “Professional hit. Very little noise and just enough power for the bullet to ricochet around inside the skull and turn the brain to mush. The potato was used as a silencer to make the weapon even quieter. With Ted being here, I presume the victim was a City informant?”

Isaac smiled briefly at Nash before answering, “You've hit the nail on the head! He was a methamphetamine dealer who purchased the drug from a probationary member of Satans Wrath Motorcycle Club. Someone who goes by the nickname of…?”

“Halibut,” said Nash.

“Ted tells me there were a few people in his office who knew he was an informant.”

“That's right,” said Nash. “The two detectives who turned him in the first place, and maybe three or four others.”

“Why should this involve us?”

“Ted's men had read a bulletin put out by our Homicide Section saying that they were interested in cross-matching methamphetamine. They called them to let them know what they had and that they were planning on running wire.”

“We'd just obtained a wiretap order on Halibut when it happened,” said Nash. “That was a couple of days ago. There's been nothing on the lines to help us yet.”

Louie looked at Nash and said, “You think someone on Homicide let it leak? Would your men have
given them Leonard's name?”

“They didn't give out his name to anyone, not that it would take a rocket scientist to figure it out. That's not why I'm here, and I'm definitely not accusing anyone. This Leonard wasn't the sharpest needle in the pile. My guess is he probably blabbed to his girlfriend or someone. I'm here because your Homicide Section said that your office is doing some work in the area. I was wondering if you had any sources that could give us a lead on the murder?”

“I would think Halibut would be a pretty good suspect.”

“He would,” replied Nash, “except he pissed on the side of one of our uniform cars that day at about noon.”

Louie caught the frown that Isaac gave Nash. He did not condone swearing, and there was little doubt that if Nash didn't work for another agency, Isaac would have reprimanded him.

“The murder happened around suppertime,” continued Nash. “Halibut was locked up in the drunk tank then. He wasn't released until the following morning.”

“How convenient,” replied Louie.

“This informant was involved in trafficking in methamphetamine,” said Isaac as he looked at Louie. “Your office does have some sort of … intelligence probe concerning methamphetamine in that vicinity. Correct?”

“Yes, sir. Project 13. Taggart and O'Reilly have been working on identifying the source of methamphetamine coming into Vancouver. We suspect that Satans Wrath is behind it.”

Wigmore smacked his hands together and sat forward in his chair. “Precisely,” he said, looking pleased. “And I understand that Taggart has an informant around the Black Water Hotel who recently supplied
him with an ounce of speed. At least, I think that's what his report said?”

“Yes, sir. That's correct.”

“Taggart,” mused Isaac. “I've read several of his reports over the years. There's something about him. He seems rather … intuitive.”

Grazia caught the eye contact between Isaac and Wigmore. There was little doubt as to who had sparked Isaac's curiosity about Taggart.

Isaac sat back in his chair and smiled as he spoke. Grazia knew he was anything but relaxed. It was a simple ploy. To appear relaxed when you're fishing for information. This makes other people relax, and sometimes things just slip out in casual conversation.

“Sir?” asked Grazia.

“I just can't quite put my finger on it.” Isaac glanced at Nash and said, “It's uncanny. He accurately predicts internal problems that criminal organizations will be having well in advance.” Isaac looked at Grazia, gave a small chuckle, and asked, “So what's his little secret?”

“He is exceptionally astute, sir. Definitely the best man I have. He's unique, innovative, a hard worker and —”

Isaac leaned forward, slapping his hands down on his desk. “Yes, yes, but there's something else! Why is it that major criminal groups suddenly start killing themselves off once he starts to investigate?” His dark eyes studied Grazia's face.

“Well, sir, it is easier to investigate a group that is suffering internal problems. Naturally a good investigator would strike while the iron is hot, so to speak.”

Isaac's gaze remained riveted on Grazia for a moment, and then he leaned back in his chair and said,
“Well, I'm sure you know your men. In any event, if this Project 13 uncovers any information that will assist Ted here, I expect you to cooperate fully.”

Wigmore smirked and said, “Well, considering that a homicide just took place, I think it would be prudent for Taggart to provide us with the full name and address of his informant. Perhaps the … informant is somehow involved.”

“Sir.” Louie looked directly at Isaac. “As a matter of policy, we don't disclose the names of informants to anyone. It's just not —”

“I really don't need to know,” said Nash.

“Nonsense,” said Wigmore. “It would be good for at least you to know just in case the name surfaces in your investigation.”

“It is unusual,” said Isaac, “but under the circumstances, I fully agree. Who is the informant?”

“I'll check with Taggart and get back to you on that, sir. I think he only used the source once because we couldn't get funding.”

Wigmore coughed loudly, then said, “I just saw Taggart at his desk a few minutes ago. With your permission, sir, why not have Louie use your phone and call him now.”

Isaac gave a nod of approval and Louie called Jack and briefly explained where he was and what had transpired.

“No problem,” said Jack. “Hang on while I get the name from out of my desk.”

Jack ripped off an envelope taped to the back of his desk drawer and then held the telephone in the crook of his neck while sifting through multiple pieces of identification.