Cal Rogan Mysteries, Books 4, 5 & 6 (Box Set)

by Robert P. French

  “Car,” he mumbles. “Gotta go now.” He tries to get up but I push him gently back down.

  “Just wait until you’re a bit more steady on your feet,” I say soothingly. “Listen, I’m going to go upstairs and see if I can find some bandages for your head, OK?”

  “Wait,” he says; there’s a lot of agitation in his voice. “Gotta go NOW.” Then his eyes go wide.

  “DON’T MOVE.”

  I flinch at the feel of the cold metal at the base of my skull.

  “I SAID, DON’T MOVE.”

  The gun barrel pushes harder forcing my head onto my chest.

  Rule one: do the opposite of what he says.

  I spin to my left, swinging my arm up to face height. I feel it come into contact with his hand and simultaneously hear the detonation in my left ear. I grab the lapels of his leather jacket and pull. I drop my head an inch and I feel my forehead pummel his nose. Over the ringing in my left ear I hear him grunt. With all my strength I snap my knee up into his groin. He grunts louder.

  I do one more half turn to the left and grab his wrist. I scythe my right arm between us and over the top of his bicep, then curl it around his elbow. With all my strength I push down on the wrist and up on the back of his elbow. He yelps and I hear the gun clatter to the ground. Now for the finale. Still holding his wrist I move my right arm forward and snap the elbow back into— “Arrrrgggghhh.” The pain is excruciating. My kidney’s on fire. The waves course through my entire body like electricity. Hands grab me and toss me like a rag doll. I feel my back smash into Cal, forcing him back onto the bed with me on top.

  Paralyzed by the pain, I watch Harvey wipe away the tears brought on by my head butt, crouch down with a sharp groan and pick up his gun with his left hand.

  “You fucking little bitch,” he wheezes. “I am so gonna fuck you up.” He stops to pant for a moment, his huge chest heaving.

  I feel Cal trying to move underneath me but I can’t move off him. It feels like my muscles no longer function. I hear a long groan escape my lips.

  “First, I’m going to kill your little buddy there. Then I’m going to chain you down and fuck you and not just once, I’ve got all the time in the world. Then when I’ve had enough of your skinny ass, I’m going to go to work on you with the garden shears and keep at it until you’re begging me to put you out of your misery.”

  I can feel Cal’s hand on my butt. What the hell is he doing? Is he so out of it he’s groping me?

  Harvey takes another couple of breaths and steps closer.

  Cal’s hand lets go of my butt and I feel it groping at my side.

  “You! Rogan!” he shouts. “Open your eyes, I want you to see who’s killing you.”

  He levels the gun in Cal’s general direction and with every ounce of my strength I aim a kick at him.

  But my limbs just twitch.

  Then he says, “I said… open… your… eyes!”

  Then he smiles. “That’s better.”

  Then he aims carefully.

  Then his face explodes.

  26

  Cal

  Still lying on my back, I pull the Glock out of the pocket of my rain jacket and place it on the bed, as far from us as possible. My head is still pounding from the blow that Jen delivered. I want to just lie back and sleep for a week. Not an option. We need to clean up this mess and get out of here. Two shots have been fired within seconds of each other and someone may have decided to call the police.

  Jen groans as I move her off me. I push myself up into a sitting position and look at her. Her face is white. I saw the terrible blow that Harvey delivered to her kidney with every ounce of his considerable strength. She may be badly damaged and bleeding internally. “Jen, can you hear me.” She nods. “How bad is it?”

  “I’ll survive,” she grunts.

  “Can you sit up?”

  She tries but ends up shaking her head.

  A number of priorities compete for my attention. We need to get out of here before the cops show up, which could be any minute; although it was self defence, Harvey was a RCMP member and we’re going to be arrested and held for who knows how long. We need to clean up every bit of evidence that shows we’ve been here, before we leave; that’s going to take at least an hour and even then we’ll probably miss something. If Jen is bleeding internally, she needs to get to a hospital fast.

  Another groan from Jen.

  Decision made.

  I dare not call an ambulance. If they come here and find us in the condition we are in they are going to call the cops and all will be discovered. “Jen, I’m going to take you to the hospital. This is going to hurt but I’m going to sit you up.” She just nods.

  I put my arm around her and pull her into the upright position. She tries to suppress the shriek of pain and only partly succeeds. There is no way she can walk. I’m going to have to carry her. If I can.

  Harvey’s body is slumped against the door leading up the stairs. As I lean down to take his arm, the pounding in my head would outdo a Gene Krupa-Buddy Rich drum battle. I pull his hundred-and-twenty-kilo body away from the door so that I can open it. It exhausts me. God knows how I’m going to carry Jen upstairs.

  I slip one hand under her thighs and the other around her back. I lift her up. She gives another suppressed shriek but not as bad this time. I sway on my feet and get a lightheaded feeling. I think I can do this.

  I step over Harvey’s body and start the ascent.

  Every one of the thirteen steps is an application of sheer willpower for me and horrific pain for her.

  It takes us five minutes to get to the top.

  I start towards the front door. Then it hits me.

  I don’t have a car. The Healey is parked outside Tina’s house and Harvey’s car is locked, in the driveway, with the keys somewhere in the bushes.

  Then the second hit.

  Sirens.

  Police sirens.

  All I know is that I don’t want the police inside this house. If we can just get outside and close the door, I’ll think up some reasonable explanation as to why a man with blood all over his head and a woman—dressed only in a man’s rain jacket and suffering from kidney damage—are sitting in the rain on the porch of a house they don’t own. Easy peasy.

  Moving as fast as I can, I get to the front door, wrestle it open and get us outside. As gently as possible, I sit Jen down on the top step, close the front door behind us and stand and wait.

  The sirens are getting louder as I search my mind for that ‘reasonable explanation.’ Nothing. Not even Shakespeare could have written the plot for us. I look down the street towards Main and can see the reflection of the red and blue lights on the side of a building. Then I hear the Doppler effect as the police car crosses Eighteenth and speeds on its way down Main.

  My sigh of relief is audible.

  “Jen, I’m going to find the keys to Harvey’s car then I’ll drive you to the hospital.”

  She just nods.

  As I walk across the lawn towards the bushes, cursing myself for having thrown the car key so cavalierly, I feel the bite of the rain on the cold December wind. Jen must be feeling it much worse; she is naked but for my jacket. I remember approximately where I tossed it and get on my hands and knees so that I can part the leaves of the laurel. In the grey of the afternoon, I take out my phone and tap on the flashlight feature. I search in the bush and on the earth beneath. Nothing. Maybe it was a bit to my left. I shuffle across on my knees and immediately see it on the ground. As I pick it up a voice says, “Are you OK miss?”

  I spin around. There’s a man, probably in his late sixties, standing in front of Jen.

  “Yes, I’m fine,” she manages to say.

  “Are you sure?” he asks in a French accent.

  “Hi,” I say walking up to him. He is short, with close-cropped grey hair and a brightly coloured scarf wrapped twice around his neck, but there is something about him that says he is a force to be reckoned with. “I’m just about to ta
ke my wife to hospital. She’s had a bad fall. As I came down the steps, I stumbled and my car key went flying out of my hand.” I hold up the evidence.

  “Do you live ’ere?” he asks.

  “Yes.” I’m hoping it’s not a trick question.

  He looks at me for a moment. “I live next door.” He indicates the house which shares an adjoining wall. “I’m Gilles.” He extends his hand and I step forward and shake it. As I move into the light from the porch, he sees the blood on my face. “Did you fall too?” he asks.

  “Yes.”

  His hand snakes out and takes the BMW key from me.

  Busted!

  I don’t want to have to fight this man. Not only because he’s twenty or more years older than me but also because he looks like he could whip my ass, given the condition that I’m in.

  “I’ll drive you to VGH,” he says with authority. “Get your wife in the car before she freezes to death and I’ll ’ave you there in no time.”

  I feel an immediate rush of relief. “Thank you so much,” I say.

  He strides across the lawn to the driveway and I pick Jen up and carry her over. He has the back door open and I slide her onto the back seat then run around the back of the car and get in beside her. While I am still buckling her in, he has the car underway.

  He is a fast but expert driver and I feel in good hands.

  “Given your wife’s attire, I won’t ask you what you were doing when you both fell. I’m French, I understand.” He chuckles.

  “I really appreciate your help, Gilles.”

  “It is my pleasure, Harvey,” he says, raising the hairs on the back of my neck.

  “How did you know my name?” I ask.

  He looks at me in the rearview mirror. “The post office put a letter for you into my letterbox about six months ago. It ’ad a government envelope so I took it over to you. You weren’t in so I just slipped it into your letterbox.”

  “I appreciate it. Thanks.”

  “I’m surprised we’ve never met before.” He says it casually but I wonder if there is an undercurrent of suspicion.

  Jen groans and looks at me. She feels the same way.

  I use the excuse she has given me.

  “How are you feeling, honey?” I say. “We’ll be there soon.”

  “Good. It’s hurting,” she says.

  I check out the window. We’re on West Twelfth just a block from the hospital. “Soon be there,” I say.

  With no further questions, he turns right onto Laurel then right again and into the area in front of the emergency department doors.

  “You take her in there and I’ll park the car and join you,” he says.

  When I check into the hospital I’ll have to use my real name. I don’t want him to discover that I am not Harvey Clegg. “You’ve been very kind,” I say. “I don’t think I will be up for driving us home. It would be great if you could take the car back and park it in our driveway. Just drop the key through the letterbox.”

  “If you are sure…” he says.

  “It would really help.”

  Gilles shrugs in a very Gallic style then comes around and opens the door so that I can pick up Jen and carry her into the hospital.

  As he drives off, I have a sneaking suspicion I am going to see him again. And not in a good way.

  He looks so old. About twenty years older than Gilles. His hair is unbrushed and his skinniness makes him look so very frail. He is connected to more tubes than there are on the London Underground.

  “Nick,” I say softly.

  His eyes flutter open and seem to have difficulty focusing. “Rogan?” he says.

  “How are you feeling, Nick?” Why do we always ask dumb-assed questions at moments like this?

  “Just aces,” he says with the shadow of a smile.

  “I’m sorry about this.”

  “Did we get Fox?” he asks.

  “Yes. And they found a bunch of records that will lead to a lot of arrests.”

  “Then it was all worth it.” He looks at me as if actually seeing me for the first time. “What the heck happened to you?”

  I look around the ICU, looking for ears which might hear what I say. Seems OK.

  “You remember Jen was seen with the big guy who we thought murdered Denis Lamarche?” He nods. “Well he did. I tracked him down and he damn near killed Jen and me.” I tell him the details of the last few hours and end with, “Anyway, VGH emergency patched me up and let me go but they’re keeping Jen in for observation.”

  “Jeez, Rogan. I can’t leave you alone for five minutes without you getting yourself into trouble.” His chuckle comes out more of a rasp. “You’ve got to go back to that house and clean up any trace of you and Jen having been there.”

  “I will. I’m going to go over there tomorrow.”

  “Do it tonight.”

  “I’m bushed right now. It’ll keep. It’s some sort of safe house, I think; nobody will ever go there. I need to speak to Ellie and then I’m going over to Tina’s.”

  “Who’s Tina?”

  I grin. “My girlfriend. I’m staying at her place so that Brenda and Lucy can stay at my place.”

  “Girlfriend. I didn’t know you had a girlfriend. How long have I been in here?”

  I check my watch. “Twenty-one hours.”

  “Jeez Louise. I better get out of here fast, in case I miss the wedding.”

  My chuckle is subsumed by a jaw-cracking yawn.

  27

  Cal

  Monday

  Mmmmmmmm. That was lovely.” She stretches and rubs her naked body against mine. “Early morning sex is so much better than breakfast.” I hold her tight. I really want to tell her I love her but I’m scared. It’s too soon. I really don’t want to freak her out.

  “Maybe,” I say, “we should just stay in bed for a while and see what late morning sex is like.”

  “You are a very naughty boy. I should have got up hours ago to check the news coming out of Ottawa. I have people to interview and words to write. Know what I mean, Jelly Bean,” She giggles, throws off the covers and gets up. Again I am awestricken by her beauty as she stands naked and looks down at me. I reach out and stroke the side of her thigh. “You are a naughty boy.” She turns around and heads for the bathroom.

  Reluctantly, I stretch and get up. And my day floods in. I know what I have to do this morning and it is unpleasant in the extreme. I need to get dressed and get to it. I hear the sound of the shower. I’ll need a shower after my toils. I hear her singing in the shower. Maybe the task I have set myself can be delayed a few more minutes. Full of hope, I step into the bathroom.

  I’m really worried about the task ahead. I need to eradicate all evidence that Jen and I were ever in Harvey’s house. This includes retrieving the bullet that killed him, assuming it’s not still trapped inside his skull. I have mentally retraced all of my movements in the house and I have a good idea of all the things that I touched and hope I can intuit all the places where I need to remove Jen’s fingerprints. I’ll have to remove all the duct tape and the covers from the bed she was confined to. Those will be full of her DNA.

  And the body. I have to stage that as a suicide. My plan is to sit him up against a wall and take his hand, holding his gun, and fire another bullet along the same trajectory taken by my bullet. Hopefully when Dr. Marcus gets to do the post mortem, she won’t discover there are two bullet tracks.

  The one problem to which I don’t have a solution is Harvey’s next-door neighbour, Gilles. When the body is finally found—which hopefully won’t be for months—the police will talk to all the neighbours and Gilles’ story will strike an inconsistent note with the findings. He got a good look at Jen and me and if shown a photo of Harvey, he will know we were imposters.

  Still, I’m thinking too far ahead. I have all the cleaning products, including some bleach, and all the household items I need to do the job. I just have to do it and hope for the best. I pull off Main onto Eighteenth and find a parkin
g spot behind a black Dodge Charger right opposite Harvey’s house.

  One deep breath to gird up my loins and—

  There are three men on the porch. The front door is open. One of the men is Gilles. The others are in suits. They are both tall, well-muscled and have the look. Cops. My mind is racing. Something we said must have alerted Gilles and he called the VPD. I can’t for the life of me think what, but in the heat of the moment, it could have been anything. And Gilles knows that Jen is in VGH. I have to get her out of there. Maybe there are other cops already on the way there to question her. Whatever, we are blown.

  I pull out of the parking space and drive sedately down the street. At least Gilles didn’t look in my direction. I turn left and head down to Sixteenth. If I drive the Healey like it was built to be driven I can be at VGH in five minutes.

  It took seven minutes, thanks to Vancouver’s burgeoning transportation issues. One of the hospital greeters points me in the right direction and as I walk onto the ward, I almost bump into Adry. “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  “Jen called me and told me they were going to discharge her, so I came over to pick her up.”

  “Oh, good. But why did she call you?”

  “You are such a guy. Why do you think?” She laughs at my blank look. “You left her here last night with just your rain jacket. She needed clothes and as we’re about the same size, I brought her some over.”

  “OK. Great. Where is she?”

  Adry points. “Behind that curtain getting dressed.” She sees the look on my face. “What’s up?”

  I drop my voice. “We need to get her out of here fast. I’ll explain later.”

  Jen pulls the curtain aside and steps towards us carrying my bloodied rain jacket in her hand. She has folded it so the bullet hole is hidden. She looks a lot better than she did last night but she is obviously still in some pain. “We’ve got to go,” I tell her. I lead her out of the ward and along the corridor to the exit door.