“Pridmore had seen the trust fund documents and he knew that,” I say. I can feel my anger ratcheting up.
She just nods.
My phone chirps: a text from Rogan. I ignore it; I don’t want to break the flow.
“When my partner visited you yesterday morning, you told him it was Mr. O’Day here who was blackmailing you.”
“I know, I’m sorry. When Mr. Rogan suggested the idea, Bob immediately latched onto it and agreed with him that it was true. When he looked at me I knew he wanted me to confirm it. I had to say what I said to Mr. Rogan. I’m sorry I lied. I’m sorry to you too Sean.”
“Don’t be,” he says and squeezes her arm again. She looks at him and smiles her gratitude. I really like this guy. Dale was a lucky man to have him. He turns to me and asks, “Do you think Pridmore killed Dale?”
As I toss the idea around in my head, they both look at me hopefully. I hate to disappoint them. “I can’t be sure but probably not. Part of his hold on you, Marly, was that he knew you didn’t want to hurt Dale. Why would he kill Dale if it would weaken his hold over you?”
“You’re right,” she says. “Since Dale’s death I have been thinking of telling Bob to go to hell. I don’t care that much about the trust fund money; I supported myself before I met Dale and I can do it again.”
I find myself liking the real Marly a lot more than the person she seemed to be before today.
“No need,” I say.
They both give me questioning looks as my phone chirps again.
I don’t want to break the rhythm of the interrogation, if I can call it that. I’m pretty sure she’s being straight with me and the answer to my next question may settle the matter either way.
“Can you explain what happened in Al Porto on Thursday night? My partner saw the two of you there with Bob Pridmore.”
“What I told your partner was the truth up to a point,” O’Day says. “I had called Marly that morning. I wanted to offer her my condolences. I have to admit I broke down over the phone.” I can see his eyes shining with the start of tears. “It all came out. My relationship with Dale, everything.” He takes a handkerchief out of his pocket and dries the tear which has made its way down his nose.
Marly takes up the story. “We made a real connection over the phone, our shared grief I suppose. We must have talked for more than an hour. I told him everything including about Bob. He suggested we get together for dinner.”
O’day blows his nose. “It would have been a lovely dinner but Pridmore showed up.”
“Why did you tell him you’d be there?” I ask Marly.
“I didn’t. While Sean and I were chatting, I got a phone call from him. He just said to stay where I was and that he would be right over.”
“That’s all?” I ask.
Her nod sets my internal lie-detector twitching. “How could he know you’d be there?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he had me followed.” She says it without any hesitation. I believe her.
“Marly told me I should go before he got there. I’ll admit I was scared. I went to the washroom and when I came back, I saw the man talking to Mr. Rogan and I just knew it was Pridmore, so I high-tailed it out of there.”
“What happened then,” I ask Marly.
“Bob asked me who Sean was. I didn’t have time to make up a lie so I told him the truth. He was happy with my answer especially after he learned about Dale’s orientation.”
The server arrives with our coffees and fusses with spoons and sugar and honey and napkins until I want to scream at him. When he finally leaves, I ask, “Do you have a lot of apps on your phone?”
“Why?”
“Because you’re going to have to download them all again after you reset it to factory condition. I’ll bet money Pridmore has installed a tracking app on it.”
She looks devastated. And then angry. And then more angry.
“I feel violated,” she says.
“So you should. The man’s an animal,” Sean adds.
Her anger morphs into a look of determination.
“Mr. Stammo, Nick, when I said I would give up all the money from Dale’s trust fund, you said, ‘No need.’ What did you mean by that?”
Before I can tell her, my phone chirps again. Rogan. He must have something urgent.
I’ll call him as soon as I give Marly the answer to her question.
33
Cal
“My dear chap, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” My rescuer has concern written all over his face. Using only my left hand I hold onto the side of the boat as I step onto the swim-grid. His sharp eyes notice my awkwardness. “Are you hurt?” he asks.
“No, but do you have a first aid kit aboard?”
“I’m sure there must be one. Do you want me to find it for you?”
“Please.”
Looking a little like he may doubt my sanity he goes below decks and quickly returns with the kit. “Here we go,” he says, opening the kit on the table behind the pilot seat.
“That’s great. Would you help me with something? I have some blood on this hand. Can you first put on a surgical glove then take a gauze pad and wipe the blood onto it?”
“Evidence eh?” His mind’s as sharp as his eyes. I just nod. “Just like on CSI.” I smile at his reference to that most outlandish portrayal of the life of crime scene investigators.
He does the job efficiently and puts the bloodied gauze into the plastic pouch from which it came. I take it, make sure it’s sealed and put it in my jacket pocket.
“Your emergency seems to be more urgent than I thought. How can I help?”
“I left my car at Earl’s Cove and walked onto the ferry to Saltery Bay. Could you take me to my car please. I’d be more than happy to pay you for the fuel and for your time.”
He deftly backs the boat away from the dock. “I’d be more than happy to and don’t even think of payment. As far as the fuel goes, my pal’s as rich as Croessus, he won’t notice a few gallons. As for my time, I’m retired and my time’s my own. However, if you tell me a little of what this is about, I think it will be a wonderful story to tell my grandchildren and will earn me a round or two of drinks next time I meet my pals at the pub.”
As he pulls away from the dock, Sam’s mother’s words keep echoing in my head. The gang will know you’re the one who killed their leader. Samantha’s petrified they’ll try and extract vengeance on you and maybe on her and Ellie.
After I told my new friend an expurgated version of the reason for my visit to his neck of the woods, I tried to contact Stammo but he has answered none of my texts. As I get into the Healey, I try once more but to no avail. I toy with the idea of calling Steve at VPD but he’ll just say they need to be gone for forty-eight hours to qualify as missing persons and I’m sure he’s not about to bend the rules for me.
Driving fast on the Sunshine Coast Highway is not a good practice. In an Austin Healey three thousand, in the dark and in the wet, it’s madness. I manage to restrain myself. The sound of the wiper blades is somehow soothing and calms me enough to let me think. Maybe I’m overreacting. Surely the remnants of Carlos Santiago’s gang are too concerned with keeping his business empire going. They probably think a rival gang did it. Except for the fact they knew about me from before. They knew Stammo and I were on the Ariel Bradbury case. If they have someone in the courts or in the VPD, they’ll know I have been charged with the killings. I have to assume the threat to Sam and Ellie is real.
If they hurt one hair on Ellie’s head, I’ll—
My thoughts are curtailed by the ring of my phone sitting on the passenger seat. Please be Sam! I grab it and take my eyes off the road for an instant. Not Sam but Stammo. I press accept and then the speaker option.
“Nick, thank God it’s you.”
“What’s up?”
I tell him everything.
“Have you alerted Steve or better yet talked to the RCMP? The Mounties have jurisdiction up there.”
&nbs
p; “No. They’ll just tell me to wait forty-eight hours.”
He grunts. “You really think Santiago’s gang have taken them?”
“I don’t know. Maybe… Probably… I don’t know what to think.”
“OK. Stay calm and keep your eyes on that road. I’m going to talk to a friend who’s with the Mounties. Do you know what car Sam drives and what’s the registration? Also do you remember the name of the boat they use to get to and from the island?”
I give him the details and he hangs up.
Having him on it helps.
But what can we do if they’ve been taken?
34
Max
He’s ‘sharing’. God I hate that word. Who gives a damn about his father’s disapproval or his mother’s overbearing love? My father never wanted me and my mother was useless. It’s what makes me strong. He’s whining on about how he got married just because his mother pressured him into it. This gutless worm is my next one. My number two. Number one was a huge mistake in some ways but I just had to do him and knowing him did add an extra pleasure, especially at the very end. I will remember that for a while. But I’ve got to be careful. No more rash moves. Stick to the plan. I’ll have to think up something extra to do to number two just to ramp up the climax.
He’s stopped and the other pathetic losers are all clapping. I join in. How nice of them to have a support group for me to mine.
“Thanks for your share, Paul,” the master of ceremonies says. “We’ll take a coffee break and then our new member, Max, will be sharing.” He smiles and nods in my direction. I return the gesture.
As we head to the coffee table, I intercept Paul. “Thanks for sharing, that was really inspirational.” That’s the type of garbage they like to hear.
“Thanks, Max. I’m looking forward to hearing your story. I’m betting it will be really inspirational too.” He lays his hand on my forearm as he speaks and I have to work hard not to cringe at his touch; I need to take advantage of the move. I put my hand on his and give a little squeeze while suppressing the desire to scream at him. I savour the thought of watching him die and that brings a natural smile to my face which he translates as support. His weakness will make his death even better for me. Maybe I’ll take a little longer with this one, really stretch it out over a few hours.
God, I love this game.
35
Sam
“Mommy, I’m sure that was Daddy’s car.” Ellie can be really insistent when she wants to be. She was quiet all the way back from Sechelt hospital but when we turned off the Sunshine Coast Highway to our marina at Madeira Park she saw Cal driving in the opposite direction.
“I told you sweetie, it must have been a car like Daddy’s. He doesn’t even know we’re up here.”
I navigate a bump in the road and find a parking spot. We get out of the car and she starts in again. “There aren’t a lot of Austin Healeys. Daddy said so. And it was the same colour It must be him.”
Without thinking, I take her hand and feel a sharp pain in mine. Wrong hand. For the hundredth time I berate myself for being so careless. What was I thinking leaving that kitchen knife on the counter like that? With my MS, stumbling is almost a daily thing now and when I grabbed the corner of the counter, I cut myself really badly. The trip from the island to the hospital was a nightmare. I’m going to have to spend Sunday cleaning the blood out of Daddy’s boat. I’m wondering if we should just go back to town. Maybe I’m just being paranoid, thinking that a vengeful gang’s going to come after Ellie and me.
“Why don’t you phone him Mommy. Get him to turn round and come back. We could wait for him here. He can come to the island with us.”
“Don’t you remember sweetie? In all the panic, I left my phone in the house. I can’t call him until we get back to the island.”
She descends into silence.
As we step onto the dock, I see an unusual boat moored one slip over from Daddy’s Boston Whaler. It looks a bit out of place here. It’s long and sleek and expensive and in the dim of the marina’s lights it looks to be yellow. Most of the boats here are working boats or runabouts. That rich man’s toy’s really out of place.
“Look at that boat Ellie.”
“Wow,” she bounces back from her mood. “That’s a really pretty boat.”
What do they call those? Cigarette boats, I think.
I help Ellie aboard, undo the mooring ropes and hop aboard myself. The engine starts on the first try. I nose out of our spot and start the short trip to the safety of Hardy Island.
36
Cal
It doesn’t feel quite right being here. We should be at the office but Stammo insisted we meet here; I’m not sure why. I haven’t been to the Yaletown Pub in ages. I think the last time was with Roy. It feels like a lifetime ago and in a way, it is. I’m drinking their Loading Dock IPA. It’s good but not as good as the IPA their former brewmaster brewed before he started his own brewery. It’s busy with the Saturday night crowd but Stammo has got us a table right up against the glass wall between the pub and the brewery.
“I talked to my buddy Greg MacKay at the RCMP detachment in Sechelt,” he says, raising his voice against the noise. “Greg’s a good guy. He’s going to check out all the Marinas which Sam’s parents might use, to see if he can spot their boat or Sam’s car. He’s going to talk to the marina owners too. I’m sure you don’t need to worry.”
“I hope you’re right. But what if Santiago’s gang knew she was there and have taken her?”
“How could they?”
I just shake my head.
“Listen, Greg said he’d get back to me as soon as he heard anything. Why don’t we take your mind off it and let’s talk about our cases.”
“Is there anything new since we had brunch this morning?”
“Oh yes indeedy. After brunch I went back to the office and created some Google alerts.”
“What are they?” I ask.
“You choose a search term and Google will email you an alert every time a new webpage appears on the net which uses the term. I set up alerts for Luke Summers, 20:13, bible gay and kill gays. I’ve already got some hits on Summers but they’re just news articles about his brother’s funeral, which is on Tuesday by the way. I’ll let you know if anything interesting turns up.”
“So where do we go from here?” I ask.
“Well, seeing as how you burned your bridges with Luke Summers, I thought I’d better step up. I checked out the websites of all the more fundamentalist churches around Vancouver and found the one Luke Summers goes to. It’s called the Baptist Church of the Savior. He’s in the ‘About’ section of the website as a ‘Benefactor and Lay Preacher.’ I dug around the website and they seem pretty fundamentalist; there’s lots of Old Testament stuff. So I’m planning to go there tomorrow morning and check it out. He doesn’t know me and I won’t use my real name but I’ll see what I can find out.”
“Do you want me to come with you?”
“No. Looks like you’ve alienated Luke Summers enough.”
The thought of going to the church prods my memory. I agree with Nick about Luke’s church but there’s another one I can visit.
“You’ve been busy for a Saturday,” I tell him.
He gives a curtailed laugh, more of a grunt really. “That’s not the half of it.”
He tells me about his meeting with Marly Summers and Sean O’Day and their story of Big Bob Pridmore’s blackmail.
“You believe them,” I ask.
“A hundred percent.”
“You look like you’ve got an idea.”
He smiles. “I do. What if we turn the tables on him?”
“How?”
“Let’s order a pizza and I’ll tell you.”
He signals the waiter over and my phone rings.
Sam.
“Are you and Ellie alright?” I shout above the noise of the pub.
I can only just hear her answer. “Yes we are, no thanks to you.”
&
nbsp; “What do you mean?”
I press the phone closer to my ear; I can hardly make out the words. “Don’t try and come up to see us again, Cal. Not ever!”
“How did you know—?”
“Ellie saw your car. What if you’d been followed?”
“Sam, there’s no way I was followed. I wanted to see you and—”
“It’s over Cal. Do you understand? Do not contact us again! Not ever!”
Beep-beep-beep. She’s hung up.
I feel a mixture of relief and pain. Both are extreme.
37
Tomás
The girls’ eyes have that cocaine shine. They both have a certain wantonness I find appealing. They’re following my instructions to the letter: pleasuring each other before they pleasure me. It’s exciting watching each of them explore the other’s body. One of them looks admiringly at me standing naked at the foot of the bed. It increases my excitement. This is going to be so good.
The vibration of the phone on the minibar drags my attention away from the beautiful bodies. It’s the one phone I must answer. Only Javier has the number. I put it on speakerphone.
“Yes, Javier.”
“Good evening Patrón. The wife and child are on the island. They left for a couple of hours and went to the hospital in Sechelt but they’re back now.”
“Good, I was worried they might have left. That island’s the perfect place for the last act of our little tragedy.”
“Should we move in on them now?” Poor Javier. He’s too eager to get his hands on the wife and the girl.
“Not yet. We stick with the plan. Get Ernesto to keep watch on them. I need you here to execute the next step.”
“Si Patrón. I will be there tomorrow.”
Cal Rogan Mysteries, Books 4, 5 & 6 (Box Set) Page 14
