. . . THE DROPPING DOLLAR
Driving the back road, both hands fighting the wheel, Frankie bounced off the seat, bumping her head on the headliner. Rolled through another pothole, trying to get the hang of the Scout’s clutch, the three-speed manual a little touchy, a damned uncomfortable ride on account of the heavy-duty suspension. Frankie trying to work around potholes created by the last rains. The fat tires slinging muck and gravel, pelting the undercarriage.
Johnny had shown her how to lock the hubs back at Rita’s place, just in case she found rough spots in the road, but she didn’t want to stop and step out. Hoping the bouncing wouldn’t cause Johnny’s player to eat the tape, the recording she made of Private School: “Money, Guns and Power,” the B side filled with tunes off the compilation LP, one with Tim Ray, Wasted Lives, Exxotone and Active Dog, the music thumping.
Fog hung low to the ground, no way to see the grove of trees, just the old farm on this side that Johnny had marked on the map. Driving along, she switched the headlights off, looking, leaning across the steering wheel.
Startled by a jackrabbit darting across the dirt track in front of her.
Jesus.
Hoping she had got it right, nothing marked back where she turned off D Street, taking a back road, then another, then one that seemed more of a dirt track than a road, the wipers sloshing across the windshield. She heard the distant howl of sirens between songs. Guessing it was Spitzer. She’d fed the coins into the pay phone and made the call to the detective back at the gas station in Blaine, a place called the Pit Stop: two pumps under an island, a Coke machine, a power pole and a couple of trash cans. Told Spitzer where to find the farmhouse where Marty Sayles stashed his weed. Told him his crew was curing it now, then she hung up. The gas station attendant pointing her in the general direction of D Street.
She switched off the player now, easing the front tires through yet another pothole. Guessing she had to be close to the grove, watching out the windshield, wiper blades swishing across.
Something flew into the road, looked like wings flapping, landed with a thump in front of her. Frankie yelped, slamming the brakes as the wheel rolled over it, nearly put herself through the windshield, her chest banging the steering wheel. First thought, she hit a goose or another jackrabbit.
Getting out, she looked under the Scout, thinking the poor thing was dead, looking mangled. Gray and lifeless. It took a moment to register that it was canvas, not fur or feathers, the strap of the mail bag, a reflector stripe and zipper across the top. Taking a breath, she prodded it with a foot. Reaching down, she picked it up, unzipping the bag.
Holy shit.
Fingers going through the stacks of cash, the bag stuffed with bundled twenties. Looking around, laughing, thinking she just hit the jackpot. Looking into the fog, waiting for another bag to drop. Frankie guessing by the distant sirens Tucker didn’t want to get caught with incriminating cash so he fired it over, overshooting the grove, hoping to come out later and find it.
Still laughing, she tossed the bag behind the seat and made a three-point turn, got the Scout facing west, looking to where Johnny would be coming from. She had told him he was crazy to go alone but understood why he needed to do it, promising she’d stay in the Scout, hoping she’d get a chance to tell him again.
She let the engine idle long enough to defog the windshield, then turned it off, leaving her window rolled down. Frankie putting her mind on heading down the coast with this guy she was getting to know, meeting up with D.O.A. on their tour, Frankie with no bass player. Joey Thunder promising to meet her in Seattle, said they could all stay with some chick he knew from when he went to art school.
She counted the bundles, twenty-five of them. Fanning the bills, fifty bills per bundle, she counted them twice, doing the math. Hearing him before she saw him, splashing across the marsh. Johnny walking out of the fog, his pants and shirt clinging to his skin, his hair matted.
“Jesus, thought I got turned around,” he said, smiling. His whole body shaking.
She got out and ran to him, threw her arms around him. Didn’t matter she was getting soaked, too. Kissing him, she walked him back to the Scout, seeing the holes in his jacket, asking if he was alright. Johnny saying he could use something hot. “Coffee, maybe a stack of pancakes.”
“Yeah, think I saw a place,” she said, getting behind the wheel, sure there was a coffee machine back at the service station. Putting the blower on full, she had him roll the passenger window down to keep the glass from fogging up again, Johnny shivering on the passenger seat, Frankie driving and watching for potholes, saying, “So, you done with it?”
“Yeah.”
She wanted to know what happened, wanted to know about Arnie. The station came into view, she looked at him, saying, “First, got a little something, kind of a surprise.”
“Had enough of bad ones.” He put his hands in front of the fan, couldn’t stop the shaking.
“Think you’ll like this one.” Reaching behind the seat, she pulled up the mail bag and set it in his lap.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you to everyone who had a hand in Zero Avenue: my publisher Jack David, Rachel Ironstone for her edits, and everyone at ECW Press who worked on the book. Also to my amazing editor, Emily Schultz; copy editor, Peter Norman; and designer David Gee for nailing another great cover. And finally, to my son Xander for giving this book its first read, helping with Frankie’s song lyrics and sharing his knowledge of the indie music scene.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Dietrich Kalteis’s debut novel Ride the Lightning won an Independent Publishers Award and was hailed as one of the best Vancouver crime novels. More than 40 of his short stories have been published internationally. He lives with his family in Vancouver, B.C.
TRY ANOTHER GREAT READ FROM ECW PRESS...
The Gritty Gastown Collection
“If you like your crime hard and fast, Kalteis is for you.” — Globe and Mail. This collection features three of Dietrich Kalteis’s high-octane crime novels, all set in Vancouver, BC: Ride the Lightning, Triggerfish, and The Deadbeat Club.
Ride the Lightning: A fast, powerful read full of action, twists, and dark humour. Vancouver is teeming with two-bit criminals, drug dealers, and gangsters, and dope dealer Miro seizes an opportunity to settle his score with bounty hunter Karl while working a major drug deal. What follows is a ride through Vancouver’s underbelly with a cast of characters whose ambition exceeds their criminal acumen. With dialogue that crackles on the page, Ride the Lightning introduces a new voice in crime fiction featuring grit, realism, and a comedic touch.
Triggerfish: A novel that Publishers Weekly called a “high-octane tale [that] will suit hardcore crime fans,” Kalteis’s second outing follows Rene Beckman, a dishonoured ex-cop with only two things on his mind: his new boat, the Triggerfish, and his hot date, an environmentalist named Vicki. When the two unknowingly dock the boat in the same secluded cove as a Mexican cartel’s drug submarine, the date ends with a bang. With the cartel’s deal torched by Beckman, he’s forced to go on the run with half the underworld chasing him through the streets of Vancouver and the waters surrounding it.
The Deadbeat Club: “Kalteis skillfully writes authentic-sounding dialogue . . . [He] makes it difficult not to root for the little guys up against ruthless gangs in this fast-paced thrill ride.” — Publishers Weekly. Grey Stevens took over the family business after his uncle passed away, and now he grows the best pot in Whistler. Everybody wants to get their hands on it, including the two rival gangs coming to town. When Grey rescues a girl from a beating at the hands of one of the gang members, he finds himself in the middle of a turf war and a new relationship at the same time. Grey has to decide whether he’s going to play it safe — take off with the girl and start over someplace new — or stay and fight for what is his.
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Copyright © Dietrich Kalteis, 2017
Published by ECW Press
665 Gerrard Street East
Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4M 1Y2
416-694-3348 / [email protected]
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any process — electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise — without the prior written permission of the copyright owners and ECW Press. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
Cover design and photograph: David Gee
Author photo: Andrea Kalteis
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
LIBRARY AND ARCHIVES CANADA CATALOGUING IN PUBLICATION
Kalteis, Dietrich, author
Zero Avenue : a crime novel / Dietrich Kalteis.
ISSUED IN PRINT AND ELECTRONIC FORMATS.
ISBN 978-1-77041-365-8 (softcover)
ALSO ISSUED AS: 978-1-77305-079-9 (PDF),
978-1-77305-080-5 (ePUB)
I. TITLE.
PS8621.A474Z17 2017 C813’.6 C2017-902414-0 C2017-902993-2
The publication of Zero Avenue has been generously supported by the Canada Council for the Arts which last year invested $153 million to bring the arts to Canadians throughout the country, and by the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund. Nous remercions le Conseil des arts du Canada de son soutien. L’an dernier, le Conseil a investi 153 millions de dollars pour mettre de l’art dans la vie des Canadiennes et des Canadiens de tout le pays. Ce livre est financé en partie par le gouvernement du Canada. We also acknowledge the Ontario Arts Council (OAC), an agency of the Government of Ontario, which last year funded 1,709 individual artists and 1,078 organizations in 204 communities across Ontario, for a total of $52.1 million, and the contribution of the Government of Ontario through the Ontario Book Publishing Tax Credit and the Ontario Media Development Corporation.
Zero Avenue Page 17
