“Relax, it was fine. They had a short, intense discussion, then Harvey’s friend went back to the garage, where his car was parked, and guess what?”
“Do I want to know?”
“He drives the gray Dodge Neon! This is it, Casey. I’ve now got the plate numbers of two racers. It’s all coming together.”
“But you don’t know for sure that they’re part of Roadkill.”
“Even if they’re not, they could lead me to them. The racing community’s not that big.”
Bloody wonderful! There’d be no stopping her now. “Have you told the police any of this? After two deaths, I’m pretty damn sure they’ll take you seriously.”
“I will after the next race, which my source says is on Knight Street tonight, so your boyfriend doesn’t have to worry about deciphering Roadkill’s code.”
The twins’ information was good again. “You aren’t going, are you?”
“I sure as hell am. I want to record the start of a race, showing vehicles, faces, and license plates.” Danielle let out a huff of air. “If we both recorded the action, I’d have a better shot at getting all of them.”
“I don’t have a camcorder.”
“A cell phone might do, if you got close enough.”
“Are you completely out of your mind?”
“How many times do I have to say it? Ben died three years ago, and the stupid cops still don’t know who ran him off the road.”
“Wait a sec.” Casey sat upright. “I heard that your brother was sideswiped by the person he was racing. It was an accident, wasn’t it?”
“No, it wasn’t.” Danielle paused. “After the crash, I went to see Richie in the hospital.”
“The passenger?”
“Yeah. He was Ben’s best friend. Richie was doped up and mumbling something about getting hit on purpose. By the time he was alert enough to talk, his memory was gone. The cops claim they never got any leads, but I think Liam MacKenna’s been protecting his friends.”
“You know him?”
“MacKenna was the one who came to the house and told us about Ben.”
It made sense. He’d been at the crash scene. “What do you mean by MacKenna protecting his friends?”
“My source said that MacKenna used to drag race, legally and illegally. I’m not sure what he’s up to.”
Did Denver know this? “So, MacKenna might still have contacts in the racing world?”
“More than contacts—buddies. I heard his racing days ended when he crashed and burned, and I mean that literally. MacKenna’s car flipped and caught fire. Guess he traded a risky sport for a risky job.”
And now he was working for the Hit and Run Team. “He struck me as a man who had no patience for street racing.”
“Maybe it’s just an act. Anyway, I’d bet my last buck that someone in Roadkill knows who was on the road with Ben that night. Word is that a couple of them were racing back then, which means capturing these guys on tape would give me enough leverage to get one of them to talk.”
“You’re assuming too much, Danielle.”
“Here’s a fact: the race is at 2:30 AM, probably to avoid extra patrols earlier in the evening. If you watch Harvey’s place while I stake out the Wings’, then we’ll have a good chance of following them right to the start location.”
“Not if they’re in a hurry to get there,” Casey replied. “Listen, the police already know about the race. There’s no need for us to go.”
“I’m going anyway, with or without you.”
Damn. Denver would want her to keep Danielle from doing something stupid, and letting her go alone didn’t feel right. “When do you want me at Harvey’s place?”
“Early, in case they change their minds about the time. Anyway, I’ll call you tonight with the address. Gotta run.”
There had to be a better way to stop Roadkill. As Casey folded a towel, her empty stomach rumbled. Man, she was starving. What she wouldn’t give for scrumptious, fatty food right now. The image of a double-patty cheeseburger oozing mayo and ketchup, plus thick wedges of fries, made her salivate, and then she thought of the twins’ ubiquitous food bags.
It might not be a bad idea to learn a little more about them, as well as their connection to street racing. Their information was certainly good; too good. Besides, if their behavior worsened, she would need to contact their parents. Since the twins weren’t likely to volunteer contact info, maybe she could locate a phone number or address from their employer. The twins had to work near the Granville and Sixteenth bus stop, where the M7 picked them up in the evening. It was only a twenty-minute drive from here.
Casey looked at her laptop, where a partially finished essay about the impact of religious beliefs on criminal justice policies over the past hundred years was waiting to be finished. It could wait a little longer. She’d already written her report about last night’s shift and emailed it to Stan, who’d been forced to finally join the computer age. Casey retrieved her purse and car keys.
TWENTY-FIVE MINUTES LATER, she was circling residential blocks near Granville in search of a parking spot. The many retail outlets between Broadway and Sixteenth Avenue, and the reserved street parking for local residents, made parking scarce for visitors. Yet hopping a bus would have taken twice as long.
After she finally found a spot, Casey stepped out of the car and hurried down Fourteenth Avenue until she reached Granville. She looked at the southbound bus stop just past the Sixteenth Avenue intersection. Beyond that, retail outlets disappeared for several blocks.
Waiting for the light to change, she scanned single-story, elegantly decorated windows advertising hair salons, art galleries, and boutiques. The variety of outlets reminded her of Commercial Drive near her own neighborhood, except Granville was, for the most part, more upscale. A few blocks away, the Shaughnessy area’s mansions sat on some of the city’s richest real estate. It was odd that the twins would work in this part of town.
She strolled down Fifteenth Avenue, a short street that ended at the Granville Bowling Club and the Vancouver Lawn Tennis and Badminton Clubs. It wasn’t long before she spotted the word MONTY’S painted in white on a dark brown awning a few doors ahead. She walked closer and studied the mock Tudor wood-framed building. The menu on the door listed a variety of burgers, milkshakes, and “The World’s Best Fries.”
Inside, she inhaled the aroma of deep-fried potatoes. Throughout the room, enormous plates of fries and burgers covered nearly every surface. Thank god her rumbling stomach couldn’t be heard over “Jailhouse Rock,” which was playing on the jukebox. Gray Formica tabletops and chrome chairs with red vinyl seats provided a cheerful fifties atmosphere. Maybe that was why the place was packed. Or maybe some people still preferred high-fat food to the West Coast staples of salads, seafood, wraps, and pasta.
Casey sat down at the last available stool at the counter as a sixty-something waitress in a pink poodle skirt and white puffy sleeves appeared. An image of Lara and Paige in these outfits made Casey grin.
“Hi there, I’m Betty.” The waitress handed Casey a single laminated page. “What would you like to drink?”
“Coffee and a glass of water, please.”
“Sure thing.”
As Betty scooted off with remarkable speed, Casey browsed the menu and decided on a Swiss cheese and mushroom burger. When Betty returned, Casey placed her order and then said, “Will Lara and Paige be working later today?”
Skin puckered between Betty’s brows. “It’s their day off.”
“I don’t know them well, but we’ve chatted on the bus a few times.” Casey put on her best smile. “The bags of food they bring on board smell so good that I had to come here.”
“Glad you did,” Betty answered. “My husband and I own this place, and we love new customers.”
Betty fastened the order to one of several clips hanging above the serving window. While Casey rehearsed the lie she was about to tell Betty, she watched two older cooks scurrying back and forth in the
kitchen.
When Betty placed an oversized mug in front of her, Casey thanked her, then said, “I found Paige’s student ID on the bus last night. Do you know how I can reach her to give the card back? I imagine she needs it right away.”
“That girl’s always losing something. Been like that all her life.” She swept coins into her pocket and placed dirty dishes below the counter. “You can leave it here. They’ll be in tomorrow.”
“I take it you’ve known the twins a long time?”
“Since they were born.” Betty wiped drops of ketchup and mayo off the counter. “Their mom and I have been friends for more years than I can remember.”
Which explained why the girls worked here. “The thing is, Paige will need her ID to get on the bus. If you have her phone number, I could call her.”
“Their phone’s broken,” Betty said as she worked. “And the girls don’t have cell phones.”
Casey had noticed. It was rare for girls their age to never bring electronic gadgets on the bus. “I’ll be in their area after lunch. I’ll drop it off at their school’s office.”
“That will work.”
Casey sipped the coffee. Lord, it was good. “I see the twins every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. They must be reliable workers.”
“They have to be.” Betty placed ketchup and vinegar bottles in front of Casey.
“Yeah well, it’s tough to save for university.”
“It’s tough to live. Thank heaven they can help their mom with the bills.”
A customer at the far end of the counter waved Betty over.
So, the family didn’t have money to throw around. She couldn’t ask Betty for the twins’ last name when she was supposed to have Paige’s ID. There was another way, though. She was considering the pros and cons of her plan when Betty presented a mountain of fries and a thick, juicy burger oozing mushrooms and melted cheese.
“Wow. That was fast.”
“We aim to please. Enjoy your lunch, sweetie.”
“Thanks.”
Casey picked up the burger and took a bite. It was every bit as good as she’d imagined.
TEN
CASEY SHIVERED AND SHIFTED HER feet to keep warm on this cold, foggy night. The M7 bus was fifteen minutes late, which probably meant Greg was driving. At MPT, he had a dubious reputation as the driver who couldn’t stay on schedule.
Although Adrianna’s pains had disappeared and the baby was fine, she was on medical leave for a month. Greg had become her regular replacement, and Casey was already fed up with his stupid hangdog expression. At least he hadn’t asked her about rent reduction again, nor had she given an answer. Discussing personal stuff while riding wasn’t appropriate, and she didn’t want to see him outside of work. She’d leave him a note when she got around to it.
The M7 finally lumbered up Granville and pulled over at the Broadway stop. Casey followed the last passenger on board. The puffy sacs under Greg’s eyes were darker than normal and his expression more pathetic.
He handed her a folded sheet of paper. “We’re moving out. Sorry to do it here, but this is the only time I see you.”
Whoa, this was a surprise, but a welcome one. As she read the note, Greg merged back into traffic. They’d be out by December thirty-first, seven weeks from now.
“Asking for a reduction in rent was stupid,” he said. “I shouldn’t have let Tina talk me into it.”
She should have guessed it was Tina’s idea. Casey had occasionally spotted Tina picking Greg up from work. The woman was usually applying lipstick, brushing her hair, or yakking on the phone while she waited in their big SUV.
“Have you found a place?” Casey asked.
“Not yet. A friend in Abbotsford told me about a vacancy in his building. I’m checking it out on the weekend.”
Abbotsford was in the Fraser Valley, over an hour’s drive from Vancouver, on a good day. Casey tried not to smile. “How does Tina feel about this?”
“Like she’s about to be dragged through the gates of hell. Says Abbotsford’s too far away from her parents, but really she’s just too lazy to pack.”
That was a nasty thing to say. “Good luck.”
Casey stayed near the front of the bus, but not close enough for Greg to keep chatting with her. The M7 eased up to the Sixteenth Avenue stop; Casey spotted the twins. She stood and moved toward the entrance, knowing this encounter wouldn’t be friendly.
Lara boarded first and scowled at Casey. “Why were you at the diner, and what was that bull about Paige losing her ID?”
Casey had figured that Betty would mention her visit. Paige stood next to her sister, a full, greasy bag in each hand. Casey nodded toward the bags. “The food you always bring smells so good that I had to try the place.”
“How did you find it?” Paige asked.
“There aren’t many burger joints near that bus stop.” She braced herself for the third lie in two days. “I did find an ID on the floor after you two left and thought it was yours, Paige. After I left the diner, I took a closer look and realized it belonged to someone named Patty. Speaking of IDs, can I see both of yours, please?”
“What the hell for?” Paige asked.
“Part of my job is to make sure they’re current, and I’ve never checked yours.”
Lara snorted and rolled her eyes.
“Do it, ladies,” Greg said, “or out you go.”
The girls yanked their cards from their pockets and shoved them in Casey’s face. Their last name was Wiecz. Too bad student cards didn’t come with addresses.
“Thanks very much. Have a seat, girls.”
Casey sat across from the twins. While they ate, she rummaged through her handbag for the article she was supposed to read for tomorrow’s class. She was halfway through when a familiar face boarded the bus at the Forty-First Avenue stop, just past the intersection where Beatrice had been struck.
Danielle searched faces and smiled when she spotted Casey. Lord, what was she doing here? Danielle had called again at suppertime yesterday to say that the race had been canceled because too many people knew about it. Danielle’s source had accused her of leaking info, which could be true.
When Danielle slid in beside her, Casey said, “How did you find me?”
“You told me when and where you worked, remember?”
Right. Big mistake.
Danielle placed her large black bag on the floor and peered at the article. “What are you reading?”
“Something for criminology class.” She noticed the twins watching her with a mix of contempt and curiosity.
“How far are you from your degree?”
“Eons. I only have eighteen credits so far.”
“At least you won’t be stuck on buses all your life.”
“It’s not so bad. The hours are flexible, my supervisor’s great, and I get to help people.” Unless she took over Stan’s job one day, though, there was little chance to move up in Mainland’s small, cash-strapped company.
“What will you do with your degree?” Danielle asked.
“No clue.” She’d thought about it now and then, but nothing had really sparked her interest. Without looking directly at the twins, Casey knew they were listening. The girls were unusually quiet, their heads turned toward her and Danielle. “I’m not sure why you’re here, but I really can’t chat while I’m working.”
“This won’t take long.”
Casey looked out the window as they passed the newest memorial at Granville and Forty-Ninth. Granville was becoming the saddest street in the city. Flowers, cards, and a half-dozen small stuffed animals covered more lamp standards.
“No one in the racing scene believes Roadkill members had anything to do with Anna-lee Fujioko’s death,” Danielle murmured. “They’re trying to rationalize the first as an accident. Some of those bastards actually blame Beatrice Dunning for running across an intersection without paying attention.”
“The Fujioko family’s offering a twenty-five-thousand-dollar reward f
or info on the driver,” Casey said.
“I hope it works.” Danielle kept her head lowered, as if unable to look at the tributes. “My source says there’s a big debate about whether to hold off racing till things cool down, but I doubt they will. There’s too much at stake.” Danielle glanced at the twins before turning back to Casey. “Liam MacKenna might be racing again.”
“You’re kidding. Who told you this?”
“My source. I asked for proof, but all he’d say is that MacKenna’s back in the scene and out to raise some shit.”
Casey peeked at the twins, who were still working on those burgers. Since they were behaving, she decided to pursue this a little further. “Why would MacKenna want to race when it ended so badly last time, and especially now?”
“Who knows? Maybe a cop’s life is too boring and he needs the risk.”
“Or maybe he’s not racing at all, just making his presence known so Roadkill won’t pull more stupid stunts.”
Danielle examined the chipping purple polish on her nails. “I went to the Wings’ place last night and saw a guy about my age take off in a gold Mitsubishi.” Danielle’s eyes shone. “He was wearing a red bandanna on his head and a gold earring in his right ear.”
Casey’s shoulders tensed up. “And his face?”
“Clean-shaven, young.” Danielle gripped Casey’s arm. “He’s Eagle, I know it. You were talking to Eagle at the cemetery. He was there when Beatrice was hit. I think Roadkill was racing that night after all.”
Casey saw the twins glance her way. “Why would Eagle be a passenger, though? Wouldn’t he be racing his own car?”
“Yeah, that was weird.” Danielle let go of Casey’s arm. “I followed the guy to a mansion in Shaughnessy and found out that it’s owned by a family named Mueller.”
“You’ve already checked them out?”
“I’m starting to. Eagle left twenty minutes later with a blond chick, who he took to a movie,” Danielle added. “I also found a forum run by someone calling himself Speed Demon. I think there’s another race tonight, so I need to watch Eagle’s place again. I’m really close to catching these freaks.”
Beneath the Bleak New Moon Page 7
