Читать книгу Jack Taggart Mysteries 9-Book Bundle - Don Easton - Страница 16

“What’s the scoop, Red?” asked Jack as he sat down. “Last night was a waste of time.”

“My guy almost got busted last night.”

The word almost bothered Jack. “What are you talking about?”

“He said there were narcs all over. Bart and Rex in the alley and more of ’em out front. He saw them and split. We’re gonna lay low for a few days until the heat is off.”

“There’s always narcs. We just gotta be cautious or go somewhere else.”

“I don’t call the shots. Who knows? There could be some narcs in here right now watchin’ us. Best for everybody to tap it cool. Give it a week or so.”

“Maybe I’ll find somebody else. Maybe at a better price.”

Red laughed. “Don’t try and scam me. My stuff is the best there is, and I’m still sellin’ it to you the cheapest. If you have been lookin’ elsewhere, you know that I’m not shittin’ ya.”

Jack grinned and said, “Yeah, I know your stuff is the best.”

“I sometimes wonder why I’m lettin’ you have it so cheap. I think it’s only because of them big blue eyes of yours. Tell ya what. To make up for last night I’ll buy ya a beer. You can sit and chill with me for a bit.”

Marcie sat on her mattress and looked at a small swollen lump on her arm from the last needle taken an hour ago. With her fingernail, she scratched off a little piece of dried blood.

It had been two weeks since … the motel. If she could go thirty seconds without thinking about it, it would be a relief. She thought about her grandmother. She’s the only one who really loves me.

She heard the door open as Red arrived home. A moment later, she stuck her head into the room to check on Marcie.

“Red, I’ve been thinking,” Marcie said. “I’m gonna split out of here. Go live by my grandma in Regina.”

“What? What are you talkin’ about?”

“Well … I kind of miss her. I think I’ll go live there so I can visit her.”

“You ungrateful little slut! You think you can just walk out of here like that?”

“What do you mean? Why not?”

“What about all the money you owe for clothes an’ dope?”

“Money?”

“Yeah, money! You retard! Where is it? Go ahead; cough up with what you owe! Then I don’t give a rat’s ass what you do!”

“I thought, like, the speed was free?”

“Free? Like fuck it was free! Sure, I lent you some out of the goodness of my heart, but you damn well better pay me back! It cost me money! Besides, it’s not speed, you twerp. It was the big H. An’ that stuff is fuckin’ expensive!”

“Well, like, I thought I didn’t have to go to work, you know, since, because, you know…”

“You still mopin’ about that? It was only a dog! He couldn’t have had that big of a dink! You think you can just fuckin’ hang out here all day, while I pay the rent, buy your clothes, and put juice in your arm? Who the fuck do you think you are that you can just rip me off like that?”

Marcie looked up with her mouth gaping open.

“You want to leave? Fine!” said Red, shaking her fist. “Get up and get the fuck out there! Start earning me the money you owe! It’ll cost ya a hundred bucks a day for protection. What you owe me is above that.”

Marcie’s voice was barely audible. She started to get up and said, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinkin’. I know I owe you, but…”

Red grabbed her by the front of her shirt and pulled her close enough for Marcie to feel the hot breath on her face.

“You’re damn right you owe me!” said Red, shoving her back down on the mattress. “And now is payback time!”

Marcie wiped some spit off her face with the back of her hand. She could feel Red’s burning glare as she slowly stood up and walked over to the closet. She trembled as she took off her jeans and put on the new clothes that Red had given her earlier. Mesh nylons, a miniskirt, and a tank top. The she slipped on a pair of high heels.

“Marcie! You better not be thinking of screwing off and rippin’ me for what you owe!”

“I won’t,” she squeaked, looking down as she spoke.

“Better not, because all you got for family is that grandmother of yours. Unless of course you want to go back to Daddy! What do you think dear old Grandma would say if she got all those cute little pictures of you and the doggie in the mail?”

Marcie’s face turned white. Tears streamed down her face, but she didn’t utter a sound.

Red’s voice softened. “Look, I’m not hard to get along with. I just don’t like the idea of anyone rippin’ me off. The guys I pay for protection? They’re all with Satans Wrath, and now you owe them, too. If you tried to fuck off on them, do you know what they’d do?”

Marcie shook her head, staring tearfully at Red.

“First they’d kill your grandma, ’cause she’d be easy to find. Then they’d track ya down and rip the guts right out of ya. There’s no place ya can hide. They got guys all over the world!”

Marcie didn’t answer. She stood, looking straight ahead, tears dripping from her cheeks.

It was late Friday afternoon, but Sid Bishop waited patiently and smiled warmly when Bart and Rex walked through the doors of the Department of Justice. Most people had gone home, but Sid was the group head of the department. He hated drug traffickers with a passion and was more than willing to wait and review the wiretap application.

Sid refused to admit it, but he actually feared drug traffickers. And the more he feared them, the harder he worked to deny that fear. It was a vicious circle. The harder he worked, the more he had to fear. He was also starting to drink more.

Bart tossed a large manila envelope on his desk. Sid waited until both men sat down before talking. “You said on the phone that this involves Satans Wrath.”

“It’s all in there,” said Bart. “Rex and I turned an informant. We’ve had him make a couple of buys while we watched to verify everything. He’s been buying quantities of speed from a guy who goes by the name of Halibut. Through our guy, Halibut has been supplying all the speed to the Black Water Hotel.”

“This Halibut is a member of Satans Wrath, is he?”

“He’s been striking for the club for two years. He’s still on probation, but I expect he’ll be getting his full colours soon.”

“Colours?”

“Yeah, his patch. The cutoff jackets they wear. Right now he only has British Columbia written on the bottom. It’s what they call the bottom rocker. Once he’s done strikin’, the full name of the club and their skull emblem gets sewn on, too.”

Without so much as a glance at Bart and Rex, Sid opened a large drawer on the side of his desk and removed three glasses and a bottle of Courvoisier. He told Bart to pour while he opened the envelope.

Eventually Sid looked up. “Nobody has caught any of these miscreants for a long time. If you’re successful, I’ll take you both out salmon fishing.”

Bart and Rex smiled and clinked glasses. It was no secret that Sid’s parents were extremely wealthy and had left him with a fortune when they died. Sid enjoyed life to the fullest. He lived on an acreage of oceanfront property northwest of the city and owned a cabin cruiser. Sid welcomed guests, and parties at his place were notoriously good. The haunt was secluded enough that police and prosecutors alike could unwind without facing the disapproval of a critical public. Bart was more than glad to be invited.

Last year Sid had contributed $20,000 to the Heart and Stroke Foundation. When asked why he still worked, Sid would say that it was for the sheer pleasure of putting bad guys in jail — a trait that Bart both respected and admired.

Sid told them that there would have to be some grammatical changes and rewriting of a few paragraphs concerning the reliability of the informant, but overall it looked good.

Sid was scheduled to start a trial on Monday but promised to burn the midnight oil and assured them that he would work on it over the weekend. If all went as planned, they should have it before a judge by Monday or Tuesday. Sid stared at the bottle of Courvoisier when they left. It occurred to him that he was beginning to despise alcohol as much as drug traffickers.

Damien sat at a table outside, overlooking the marina. He nodded for Wizard to sit down, and the waiter hurried over.

Wizard ordered a Grandview Island Stout. It was a local beer, one he preferred over the imports.

Damien waited until the waiter left before asking, “So what’s The Suit’s problem?”

Wizard shrugged indifferently. “Not a big problem. Just a rodent.”

“In-house or out?”

“Gnawing outside one of the striker’s houses. Halibut’s place.”

“Take care of it personally and be sure to advertise why.”

“Why me?”

“Involves The Suit. The fewer who know, the better. Use Rolly as well.”

“I want a driver.”

“That’s fine.”

“I’ll use Lance. He’s —”

“Shut the fuck up. I don’t need to hear all the details.”