by Samson Weld
“You like that in a man?”
“Totally. It’s a way of life for me. If you don’t like what society does to you, you gotta take charge and change things to your liking.”
“Good philosophy.”
Cathy nodded emphatically. “If you don’t make things happen, no one’s gonna do it for you.”
He looked at her and knew at once it wasn’t a line. She was serious.
He understood she was the rare breed of escorts who was in this line of work not because of drugs or a desperate need of money. She was an independent thinker who used her strong will to reach her goal. He kissed her on the forehead.
And she was making him think of something. What if he could change his future?
Chapter 13
The night ended up being tough.
Nick spent a few hours with Cathy, but even though he was physically exhausted he couldn’t fall asleep after getting back to the hotel. The lady had been meant to make him forget about his being implicated in a murder. This had been the whole point of coming here. Comfort. In the end, all that visit had done was to accentuate the depth of his troubles.
Saturday morning was usually his favorite time. Even when he had to work, there was something special about Saturdays. Some people resented it, preferring to be with friends and family, to do whatever they wanted. Nick loved his job so he didn’t mind.
On top of that, there was a more relaxed atmosphere on Saturdays. It was like being allowed into school after hours. It was thrilling, like you could do anything and no one would know about it.
Today was different though. He had the weight of the world on his shoulders, though he supposed that was to be expected when you were clearly suspected of murder.
A young lady from room service carried a tray into his room. He was groggy as he watched her, his eyes riveted to the pot of coffee and folded copy of The Montreal Gazette on the tray. Surely that would clear his mind, right?
The dark-skinned girl smiled tightly at him, stealing glances in his direction. He figured that it was because he was dressed only in boxer shorts and that made her uncomfortable. Or maybe it was her way of coming on to him? He was too tired to give it a second thought.
He found a Canadian five-dollar bill on the nightstand and handed it to her; he always felt cheap tipping with the local one-dollar or two-dollar coins.
“Merci,” he said.
“Merci à vous. Bonne journée!”
Once she was gone, he rubbed the cobwebs away and poured himself some coffee. He took a sip and burned the tip of his tongue. He paid it no attention as it happened to him at least once a week. He sat down at the table and switched on his laptop. While it booted, he grabbed the broadsheet and scanned the headlines.
Economy in the toilet, trouble in the Middle East—that’s a surprise, he thought. He went past an analysis on the upcoming hockey season and then finally stopped on a headline below the fold: Prostitute found slain downtown. He all but tripped over himself flipping to the right page.
“Martine Nadon, twenty-four, was found dead yesterday morning by pedestrians,” he read to himself. He speed-read his way lower. “Nicotine gum was found near the woman who was later linked by police to the Champagne Wishes escort agency. Detective Bédard in charge of the case was said to be following a number of leads.”
He tossed the newspaper aside and leaned back in his chair. Jesus Christ. He was one of those leads. He wondered if the editorial staff had had a late night meeting about whether or not to keep his name out of the paper. Or was he only being paranoid?
Coming here this weekend had been such a mistake. Why couldn’t he keep it in his pants? He was an accountant by trade—hell, in fact an actuary. He knew about playing the odds. Doing what he did, it was only a question of time before he got burned.
He took another sip of coffee. Preoccupied, he burned himself again. Burning, he thought. That word again. The concept of burning reminded him of cigarettes. He recalled his evening with Suzy.
What was all that smoking anyway? One cigarette after another. His clothes had smelled like smoke all evening.
He turned to his computer and clicked his way to some files he kept private by storing them in mislabeled folders. He opened a document and the boldface title read Suzy at Champagne Wishes Reviews. He had cut-and-pasted all the reviews he had found about this escort.
He did that every time before meeting a new lady, reading the reviews multiple times before his own appointment. It was a way to build up the anticipation. The excitement. As much as he enjoyed the thrill of sleeping with a stranger, he liked to know in advance what to expect. He quickly read through the reviews until he found some sentences which made his heart lurch.
It was refreshing to meet a perfectly bilingual lady.
Suzy, thank God, doesn’t smoke; says she recently quit.
Her vastly liberal services make her a true gem.
“Jesus Christ,” Nick groaned with a deep sigh as he came to the inevitable conclusion.
It was right there in black and white. He was torn between celebrating and trying to absorb this shocking news. Still, what emerged was clear.
The girl he’d seen Thursday night wasn’t Suzy.
~ ~ ~ ~
It took some time to get to grips with the idea, but eventually Nick had to get out of his paralysis. That in itself took twenty minutes.
He went down to the bar downstairs and had breakfast. Montreal bagels were famous across North America, but he still preferred the ones he found the New York. As much as he enjoyed everything about this city, that was where he drew the line. Instead, he had eggs and bacon, all the while considering his next course of action.
With his phone clutched to his ear, he took a last bite and pushed his plate away.
“Detective Claude Bédard, please. I believe he works in Homicide.”
He drank coffee. The more time passed and the more confident he was becoming. He felt less in the dark. There was a course of action opening up before him and that in itself was encouraging.
If it hadn’t been Suzy he had been with, then he couldn’t possibly have killed her. The police would realize that. It was basic math. His heart actually felt lighter now that he knew he was moments away from being off the hook.
“I’m sorry, sir,” a woman said. “He’s out of town for the weekend.”
Nick practically spilled his coffee all over himself. “What do you mean, out of town? You’re saying you can’t reach him all weekend?”
He set his cup down and pushed it away as far as he could, as if he didn’t trust himself holding it.
“There has been a family emergency. Can I connect you with someone else? Or if your life is in danger, please call nine-one-one.”
“No, my life isn’t in danger!” Nick almost shouted, catching himself at the last moment. “It’s about a case he’s working on. I have… I have new information.”
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“Can’t you give me his cell number? At least so I can leave him a message?”
“I can’t give out that information, sir.”
Sure, it was Saturday, but he’d been expecting the cop to be working his case anyway. Wasn’t it that way in the movies? They worked night and day until they caught the bad guy. Christ…
Nick sighed. “Well, if you manage to reach him, have him call Nick Eversull, it’s important. He knows where I am.”
He hung up and just as he pocketed the phone, Anne-Marie appeared next to him.
Chapter 14
“Good morning,” Anne-Marie said, almost tentatively.
Despite the surprise, he brightened up at her arrival. She was the last person he’d imagine encountering this morning, especially here at the hotel.
“Hi, what are you doing here?” he asked, spinning toward her.
“I went to the office early and Stanley was already there. He told me you were here. I thought I’d drop by and say hello.”
“Are you checking up on me, Anne-Marie?
”
A mischievous grin slowly crept across her lips. “Maybe.”
“For personal or professional reasons?”
“A lady doesn’t tell.”
“Then perhaps you’re not a lady after all,” he jabbed.
He wondered if he’d said something wrong—he didn’t know her well enough to joke around this way—but she laughed.
“Since I met you, you appeared to me as very serious and professional, in spite of your charming ways.”
“You think I’m charming?”
“I’m being polite. It’s a Canadian thing.” They shared another laugh. “So you not being at the office concerned me. Everything all right? You’re not sick, are you?”
“I’m fine. I just told Stanley he’d have to do without me today.”
She finally sat on a stool next to him and asked, “Errands to run?”
“Something like that.”
“Want some company? I had a great time at dinner the other night and I was hoping to repeat the experience today.”
Nick’s face grew somber. A part of him was thrilled that she had enjoyed their evening together, because he had as well. Nevertheless, he didn’t want to implicate anyone else in this godawful mess. That’s why he had sent Stanley to the office by himself.
“I don’t think that’s something you want to do, Anne-Marie.”
“Try me.”
He stared at her and she didn’t balk at the solemn look in his eyes.
“Really,” he said. “You don’t want to know.”
“What?” she began with a chuckle. “Did you kill someone?”
“No, but the cops think I did.”
Her playful smile vanished. “What?”
He sighed and hated himself for having spoken without thinking. There was no going back now. If he walked back the comment, she would pester him. Even worse, she wouldn’t believe him. She would see right through his lie.
However, there was something about this woman. She was genuine. For reasons he couldn’t pinpoint, he decided that he could trust her. More than that, it was like he needed to unload his burden. Yes, determined he could tell her the truth.
He dug into his pocket and produced the newspaper clipping about the dead prostitute. He handed it to her and waited while she read.
“What’s this?” she inquired.
He stared at her as she read the article all over again.
“I didn’t do it, Anne-Marie.”
“And the police think you did? There’s nothing about you in the article.”
“A cop came to see me yesterday. I’m apparently a person of interest.”
“That’s crazy. Did you tell them that it’s a mistake?”
Nick reached for his coffee, but changed his mind halfway there. The last thing he wanted was for someone to notice his empty cup and come over to refill it. He didn’t want anyone to eavesdrop on this conversation.
“Yes, I explained that I didn’t do anything, that it’s a mistake.”
“Then why would you ever be a person of interest, Nick? Were you driving by? Did you see something?”
“It’s because I had an appointment to see her that night,” he blurted out. “But I didn’t actually see her. I was somehow sent another girl instead.”
Anne-Marie froze and nodded gravely, clearly thinking about how to phrase her next question. Nick regretted having shared his secrets with her, but there was no going back.
Anne-Marie said, “And is that something… you do often?”
In for a penny, in for a pound.
“Yeah,” he said dismissively, deciding it wasn’t the right time or right frame of mind to explain about his hobby. “By reading reviews of this girl on the net—Suzy—I was able to determine that she’s really not the girl I saw. So I wasn’t with her, therefore I couldn’t have killed her.”
This relieved Anne-Marie. “Did you tell the police?”
“Detective Bédard is away for the weekend and I can’t get him on the phone. The problem is that there’s no evidence I didn’t actually see this Suzy. That’s what I need to do today, find proof to clear my name.”
Nick looked at the woman next to him. If at first he had doubted his decision to share the situation with her, he was feeling much better now. Her eyes were narrow, looking at the counter in front of her. She was no longer appalled.
No, she was concerned. She was evaluating parameters and trying to think of a solution. He might have found an ally after all.
After a moment, she spoke. “Can’t you just find the girl you truly saw last night? If she testifies she was with you in that time frame, you’re off the hook.”
Nick shrugged. “It would be like finding a tiny shrub in a big forest. Even by cold-calling agencies, nobody would tell me anything.”
“Then how will you find her?”
“I have an idea,” he said.
“Let me help.”
“Anne-Marie, I don’t know. You shouldn’t get mixed up in all this.”
“Too late. If you didn’t want me involved, then you shouldn’t have told me anything.”
He glared at her and she smirked innocently. He imagined that’s what made her a fierce businesswoman.
“You’re something, you know that?”
“Of course, I know. Come on, Nick. Let me come with you, today. I want to tag along and help.”
She was putting forward a good case and he was out of arguments. “Are you sure?”
“What else am I going to do today, my hair?”
She smiled at him genuinely. Yes, Nick decided. He might have found an ally and that’s exactly what he needed this weekend.
~ ~ ~ ~
It was time to become proactive.
Anne-Marie stayed with him long enough to drink two coffees as Nick expanded on his idea. He made some calls, had another coffee even though he was wired enough as it was, and an hour later the two of them walked out of the hotel.
He paced along the sidewalk, watching the sparse Saturday traffic while pretending he actually was on top of things. Anne-Marie stood farther back from the road, watching him.
“You really think it’s going to work?” she asked.
Nick shrugged. “The girl has to have been killed for a reason. If I don’t find out what it is, I might as well pack up my bags for prison right now.”
“No. I mean, do you think the driver is going to cooperate with us?”
“Well, we called him for a date, so he has to come. The rest will depend on our negotiation skills.”
The plan was not exactly far-fetched, but it went further than he had originally intended. It was risky.
Right then, an aging minivan pulled up to the hotel. It was speckled with rust and the bumper was caved in halfway. Anne-Marie craned her neck to get a better look at it.
“Is that him?”
Nick knew she was referring to the driver and he had no answer to give her. He focused on projecting an air of confidence, which was to the complete opposite of what he actually felt.
A pretty woman exited from the passenger seat. She was in her early twenties and wore a form-hugging pink dress which highlighted her flawless figure. Long lines, plunging neckline, too much makeup. Definitely an escort. She headed toward the hotel.
Nick jogged past her and went around the minivan. He yanked open the passenger door and took a seat. At the same time, Anne-Marie slid the rear door open and sat in the back. The driver was at first confused at the intruders, but then his features hardened in fury.
“Qu’est-cé qui ce passe?”
“Relax, I just want to talk to you.”
“Quoi?”
Translating, Anne-Marie said, “On veut juste vous parler.” We just want to talk.
Nick produced a wad of cash. The bills were American. He peeled off three hundred dollars and passed the money over to the driver.
“This is so that I don’t waste your time,” he said in a soft voice. “It covers the lady’s time.”
The dr
iver unashamedly counted the money and then pondered what to do. This was indeed the fee for the girl’s services. It was long seconds before he spoke.
“What you want?” he asked in heavily accented English.
“Tell me everything you know about Suzy.”
“Are you the police? I tell them everything already.”
“Then just repeat it to me,” Nick said, doing his best to sound pleasant although there was a sharp edge in his voice.
The driver shook his head though, his jaw tight.
“No, I don’t want trouble.”
“Please, nobody will know you and I spoke.”
“No way.”
Nick exhaled loudly. It was both a gesture of frustration and desperation. “Then, do you know anyone who could help us?”
Anne-Marie repeated the question in French and even added a few more sentences Nick couldn’t understand. She was pleading their case.
The driver was a tough man. He looked like an aging bouncer, his features drawn, hiding fading muscles. But with age and experience often came reason, the knowledge that you have to choose your battles. And you had to take money when it was offered.
“Please,” Nick said softly.
“She live with her sister,” the driver declared at long last. He glanced at the money in his hand, moaning over its significance. “I can take you there.”
“Great, wonderful!” Nick replied, looking at Anne-Marie and realizing she was as astounded as he was that it had worked. “Thank you.”
The driver pocketed the money and then shifted into gear. Quickly, Nick motioned for him to hold on.
“Wait, the girl’s gonna be back in a minute, nobody’s expecting her upstairs.”
He grinned sheepishly at his ploy.
Chapter 15
In the next half-hour, the driver took them to a high-rise apartment building in the suburb of Laval, just north of Montreal. This structure stood tall over the lower housing developments and was close to Rivière des Prairies, the river that separated the two cities.
“I don’t go more close,” the driver said after stopping the minivan.
