Читать книгу A Case of You - Rick Blechta - Страница 8

Shannon looked at the pages of a very neat and well-organized handwritten report. “Textbook style!” her dear old dad would have proclaimed. She was further impressed by the fact that Goode had been waiting in the reception area when she’d arrived at the office. It had taken a long time to put this material together. The woman must have been up half the night.

“This is fine work, Goode,” she said, nodding. “You’ve done well.”

“Thanks.”

Shannon tipped her chair back. The woman had done a good job. Not often did she receive such a detailed report from one of her operatives – and within twenty-four hours. She still had her doubts about Goode’s overall suitability, but she had to admit she was impressed. To get to the office from downtown and to be there before the boss had arrived, Jackie would have had to leave well before seven a.m.

“What do you think our next steps should be?”

Goode had obviously thought about that, too, because her answer was quick.

“I need to talk to the client personally. He’s obviously keeping information from us.”

Shannon nodded. “I got the same impression when I met with him.”

She didn’t elaborate about her suspicion that Curran and Olivia might have been “an item”. Let Goode suss out that bit of information for herself.

“I don’t think it would be good if I just showed up at his door, though. Could you set up an interview for me?”

“Not a problem. From your report and what you’re saying, it’s obvious you don’t seem completely sure of him.”

Goode looked at her levelly. “I’m sure of no one.”

“Have you considered how to approach looking for the girl and the two men who led her off?”

Goode considered for a moment. “Curran told you they said they had a plane to catch.”

“Pearson Airport?”

“Wouldn’t we have to check all of them?”

“And there’s the rub. That’s a lot of footwork for possibly no results.

Our client has intimated he doesn’t have much money available.” “It would have to be a private plane, quite possibly a jet.”

Shannon nodded. “I don’t have much on today. I’ll handle the airports, and you interview our Mr. Curran.”

Shannon had been this route at airports quite a few times in her career. Usually it was tracing the movements of executives who had the use of corporate jets, so she already had some connections who might be of help.

Since it was close by, she first tried Buttonville, one of the Toronto area’s two small plane airports, but that had led to a quick dead end, so it was on to Pearson on the west side of the city. Toronto Island Airport was a long shot, so it was third on the list.

The area servicing private planes lay on the less trafficked north side of Pearson, the international airport serving Toronto. Surrounded by an industrial wasteland of warehouses, factories, strip clubs, and some small businesses, it was not the prettiest of places. Combined with the airport’s wide tracts of open land, it always filled her with an odd sense of loneliness.

In the old days, things were run a lot more loosely. Planes came and went, and unless they were carrying something special, everything was pretty casual. Since 2001, though, security and the less regimented business of private aviation had tightened up considerably. A big cargo plane could be flown into an office building just as easily as a commercial airliner, and no one forgot that.

The day was turning positively warm, but the blustery west wind caught Shannon off guard as she stepped from her SUV. She stood for a moment watching a plane land on the runway nearby and wondered how pilots could keep the damn things so steady with that kind of wind buffeting them.

Having called ahead, she entered a low office building, where a receptionist waved her through. Her contact, an airport official, was waiting in the doorway of his office as she walked down the hall. Actually, he was big enough to stand in as a door.

“Shannon O’Brien, how good to see you,” he said as they shook hands.

“Likewise, Fred.”

Getting his bulk comfortable behind his desk, he asked, “So you’re looking for information on a plane that left Tuesday evening or early yesterday morning?”

Fred, who ran the refueling concession for this side of the airport, had helped O’Brien Investigates on numerous occasions. Shannon knew his assistance was predicated on the fact that he enjoyed looking at her.

“There probably would have been three passengers, two men and a woman.” She slid a copy she’d made of Olivia’s photo across the desk. “This is who I’m looking for.”

“And the two men accompanying her?”

“Bounty hunters, I believe.”

“I hate those guys. Do you have a description of them?”

Shannon had typed up something based on Curran’s story. It wasn’t very detailed.

As Fred alternately skimmed the page and stared at the girl’s photo, she said, “I also don’t want to draw unnecessary attention to what I’m looking for.”

“Was the girl going willingly?”

“On the surface, from what I’ve been told.”

“Any idea of the destination?”

“There’s only sketchy material to work with at this point. We’re pretty sure the men are from the States and quite possibly the girl. I don’t know if she ran away from a legal problem, or if it’s something else.”

“Sounds a bit like a needle in a haystack to me.”

Shannon shrugged. “I’ve done more with less. Think you can help?”

Fred looked down at the photo again. “Jimmy’s here today, and he was around on Tuesday night. Let’s talk to him.”

Jimmy turned out to be a wiry guy with grey hair who looked as tough as an old goat. Fred gave him the photo of Olivia. He stared at it for a good ten seconds before handing it back.

“I seen her. Tuesday night, some time after eleven.”

Shannon asked, “Anyone with her?”

“Two guys.”

“Can you describe them?”

Jimmy looked at Fred. “She a cop?”

Fred shook his head. “No, a friend. She’s looking for the girl.”

The airport employee grunted. “I figured out that much. Look lady, I really didn’t pay attention. A cute thing like her I certainly glance at, but I don’t have time for guys, know what I mean? And besides, they were in a real big hurry. Wanted their plane refuelled like yesterday.”

“So they took off right away?”

“Not really. Their pilot wasn’t ready, and it took a while to get through all the formalities. They weren’t happy. The shorter of the two guys took the girl onto the plane while they waited.”

“And the other person?”

“He drove off in the car almost right away. Can’t say if he didn’t just return it to the rental place and take a cab back, though.”

Shannon filed that bit of information away. Now for the million dollar question. “Any idea where they were flying to?”

“The plane was from the States, if that’s what you mean. I believe they flew in from California. Can’t really say if they were going back there, though. I was pretty busy that night. Hardly had time to think.”

He did have time to ogle a pretty girl, though, and that had been a good thing.

Fred spoke up. “I can get you that information.” Shannon wondered how much it might cost her. A year ago, he’d

fleeced her for three hundred dollars for the same sort of info. This time she’d stipulate that he share some of it with Jimmy. The sharp-eyed gas jockey had saved her a lot of time.

As she drove along Highway 401 on the way back to her office, Shannon considered her next move.

According to the flight plan that had been filed, the plane had a final destination of San Diego. That didn’t necessarily mean that it couldn’t have stopped somewhere first to drop off passengers. Pilots amended their flight plans all the time. She’d have to follow that up. Perhaps the pilot or the owners of the plane would be willing to talk. That would require the proper leverage, since they generally protected their clientele, especially if they were bounty hunters.

The news that the bozo who’d poked her client in the eye might still be around was something that required careful consideration, too. Was there a reason for that? If so, what?

Swinging north onto the 404, Shannon’s thoughts were back on Jackie Goode. After their meeting that morning, she had the feeling she might have caught lightning in a bottle. Then again, there was the comment by one of Goode’s instructors in a Seneca College Police Foundations course: “The kid’s got street smarts and savvy, but she’s also got a big mouth and is pigheaded to boot. I’d watch my step with her.”

Shannon would keep her on a short lead.

***

At two o’clock sharp, Jackie walked up the steps of Andrew Curran’s house. On one of the tree-lined streets running east off Broadview south of Danforth Avenue, he had an enviable location in one of Toronto’s hottest neighbourhoods, speaking in real estate terms.

The house itself looked a tad run down, but the windows were new. The broad porch was in need of fresh paint, the bushes in front of it were overgrown and the cement walk was crumbling. Playing drums must keep him busy – or else he didn’t care about protecting his investment.

Curran had been watching for her, because he was waiting behind the storm door as she mounted the steps.

“I’m Jackie Goode,” she said, offering her hand.

“Is this going to take long? I thought I answered all the questions yesterday.”

He seemed distracted as he led her into the living room.

As she sat down on a small sofa and looked around (not much furniture and most of it new), Jackie pulled a notebook out of her backpack before setting it on the floor. Only one small painting adorned the walls, but she could see marks where several others had once hung. The mantel above the fireplace at the far end was also bare. Frankly, the place looked as if he’d just moved in. The only thing of any consequence was an impressive sound system, a large bookcase crammed with CDs on one wall and another with double layers of books on the opposite side. Mr. Curran obviously liked to listen to music and read.

He made no move to turn on a lamp, and the porch outside cast further darkness into the room. Parking himself on one of those curved IKEA chairs, he didn’t lounge back the way the seat was designed to encourage. The man was clearly uneasy.

Jackie made a show of looking for her pen as she considered how to proceed in light of this.“To answer your question,”she said, opening her notebook,“I’m hoping this won’t take long at all. Do you have someplace you need to be?”

“Just my gig tonight, but there are some other things that need doing before I leave.”

She smiled. “Okay, I’ll be as speedy as I can.”

If it was up to her, she’d take the bold frontal approach and come right out and ask it: “What exactly was your relationship with this woman you’ve hired us to find?” But that would definitely be a bad idea, considering how stiff her potential employer seemed to be. Still, the idea had its charm...

Curran was staring at her.“When Ms O’Brien called this morning, I thought she had news for me. Have you found out anything?”

Jackie shook her head.“It’s pretty early, and you didn’t give us much to start with. One thing we’re doing is checking all the airports to see if that gives us any fresh leads on where they took your girl.”

The client squirmed and coloured a bit at her deliberate choice of words. “I saw you at the club last night,” was his deflecting response.

“Seems you’re not the only one hung up on this girl. I think half the people I spoke to last night have a crush on her.”

This time Curran visibly cringed. Jackie felt a bit sorry for him, but she also didn’t like people who lied – or at least played around with the truth.

Making a show of flipping pages in her notebook, she asked, “You worked with Olivia how long?”

“A little under two months.” “You told my employer that she lived on the street. Surely that can’t be true.”

“Olivia kept to herself. I don’t know much more about her than I told Ms O’Brien yesterday.”

She pounced, but gently. “How did you get in touch with her then? Go down to the train station whenever you wanted to tell her something?”

Curran flopped back into the chair and looked out the window over Jackie’s shoulder, his eyes far away. She waited silently for a good half minute.

“I asked Olivia to move in here shortly after we asked her to sing with the trio. Before that, she was sharing a room somewhere in the west end.”

“Why didn’t you tell us this yesterday?”

“I don’t know.” He shook his head slowly.“I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea. I just want to find out if she’s okay.You see, I feel responsible.”

“Why?”

“That’s sort of hard to explain. Maggie, the friend Olivia shared a room with before she came here, was dead set against her performing. She tried really hard to talk Olivia out of it, really hard. I was pushing on the other side. She is an amazing talent.”

“We’ll talk about this Maggie a little later. So you asked Olivia to, ah, move in?”

He took a deep breath. “I have a lot of room. You see, my wife and I separated recently, and well, there are three bedrooms not being used. The trio also rehearses here, so Olivia only had to go down to the basement. It just seemed like a good idea.”

Now Jackie waited a moment, but it was all for effect. “Did she sleep in her own room?”

Curran coloured deeply. “She had her own room.”

His response neatly dodged the question. Jackie decided to move past and circle back later.

“Could I see her bedroom? There might be something there that would give us a clue as to why those men showed up or why she went so willingly.”

“I don’t believe she did go with them willingly. To me it seemed as if she had no choice.”

“That’s splitting hairs. What I meant was that she didn’t put up a fuss. If someone came after you, would you go so docilely?”

He got up. “I’ll show you the room.”

Upstairs, the house was even more devoid of furniture. The absent wife had obviously taken nearly everything. The room at the top of the stairs had nothing in it but dust and empty shelves and a laptop computer on a small table. The next (obviously Curran’s room) had just the bare bones: a double bed, dresser and small square of carpet.

The daughter’s room at least had a couple of stuffed toys and pictures on the walls, mostly her artwork. But the bed and dresser were brand new.

Olivia’s room was at the end of the hall next to the bathroom. Curran swung the door back and Jackie pushed past, but stopped, barely through the door.

What was in front of her was like nothing she’d ever seen, unless it was under the influence of drugs. Every surface but the floor and the wall to her left had been painted by a hand that was childlike but at the same time masterful.“Standing in a clearing in the forest,” Jackie said out loud.

On the wall opposite the window in the unpainted wall, the forest disappeared into darkness. On the wall in front of her, a clearing extended to a spot where a waterfall gushed over a high cliff. Overhead on the ceiling, a night sky glowed with stars and a crescent moon. Stepping farther into the room, she saw on the wall behind her more forest with the shadowy bulk of mountains rising in the distance. It would take hours of study to appreciate every detail that had been painstakingly painted. The whole effect was quite charming – until you noticed what was under the bushes and behind the trees. Everywhere eyes stared out, big eyes, small ones, and all of them filled with menace. Jackie found the effect profoundly disturbing.

“Olivia did this?”

“My daughter helped a bit when she visited, but this is almost all Olivia’s work.”

“Did she ever sleep?”

Andrew Curran actually laughed. “Very little. She was especially prone to staying up all night after gigs when she was really wired, but unless she was singing or listening to music, she was up here working. Sometimes she’d do all three at once.”

The rest of the room was spartan: a mattress on the floor and a lamp on a low table nearby. Jackie went to the closet, where she found five dresses hanging from a rod and shelving stacked with neatly folded underwear, socks, jeans and a few blouses and sweaters.

“Do you mind?” Jackie asked before starting to go through the clothing to see if anything had been hidden among it.

“There’s nothing there,” Curran told her as she searched. “I was the one who kept all her clothes in order, otherwise they’d just be scattered around the room.”

She continued anyway, then asked, “How about under the mattress?”

“I already looked there. I’ve searched the entire house.”

“When Olivia arrived here, what did she have with her?”

“One clean set of clothes besides what she had on, her duffel coat, a toothbrush, and that’s about it.”

“And all that’s still here?”

“In the closet, except for the duffel coat. I threw that out because it was pretty ratty. Tuesday night she had on a dress, boots and a sheepskin coat I bought her about a month ago. The coat was thrown from the car as they drove off. I believe it might have been a signal.”

“What kind of signal?”

“That she wants me to come and find her.”