by Richard Cain
“Yeah, well, we have to find her. In the meantime we may as well take these idiot cops for all they are worth. You’re right, Christian. Rule number one where I grew up, the fight’s not over until you put the boots to them.” Vince watched for a reaction but didn’t get what he was looking for. He added, “After we bankrupt them, then we kill ’em. We make it violent and send a clear message. Let’s do this.”
Christian retreated a little. “Yeah, but —”
“Don’t give me the yeah buts, Christian, this is really important.” Vince regretted his tone almost immediately. He had to be the boss but disrespecting Christian was a death sentence. He made a sideways glance to Youngblood and saw that he seemed cool with it. Just banter, he told himself. The kid needs to get ribbed a little. He needs to learn to shrug some stuff off.
Christian exhaled, apparently tolerating his flub. “Hey, I’m all for killing cops. I don’t know how much I want to broadcast it.”
“Touché, kid, but like I said, rule one. And? Attention to detail. Attention to detail will save your ass one day. You want detail to be your routine, just like making sure the bat is under the bed at night when you go to sleep. You never know when you might want to play some baseball. I say we send a message so strong that your dad hears about it in California. Make him proud.”
He turned north on Jarvis when the light changed. Vince quickly fabricated a plausible action plan for Christian’s benefit. “We ruin them financially then release the video, then kill them. Your dad will be proud. I’m going to buy myself a condo in Florida on the backs of our newly acquired franchise players while we force them to find the whore for us. This is the big show, kid. You up for it?”
13
Nastos had forgotten how uncomfortable the spin van was while he and Carscadden were immersed in the drama occurring at BMO Field. He nudged Carscadden away from his cellphone. “And here comes our guy, out with the bag, going the opposite way from Morrison. And he’s not freaking out like Morrison. He’s as cool as anything.” He put the binoculars down and turned to Carscadden, “You said you got the plate?”
Carscadden held up the camera and scrolled back a few images. “Clear as day.”
Nastos checked the phone screen. “See, there’s no dealership border around the plate.” He zoomed out and checked the entire rear of the SUV. “And see? No logo there either.”
“So?”
“They’re driving a brand-new vehicle, with no dealership markings, what does that tell you? It’s a rental car, a fleet vehicle. Running the plate will only get us halfway. After that we have to go to a corporation and hope they co-operate or we’re screwed.”
“Umm.”
“This changes everything. The cops are working for someone,” Nastos said. “It’s gonna take time to find out who.”
Carscadden didn’t reply, like he was trying to sort it out in his mind.
“Looks like the Toronto Police Service hired some organized crime members.” For some reason the explanation didn’t feel quite right. “Or it’s an extortion gig.” Again, Nastos couldn’t be sure without more information.
Carscadden took his phone back. “Either way it’s organized crime. Who else would have the balls to go after cops?”
“Yeah.” Nastos went through the options. “Bikers, mafia, something new.”
Nastos put his seat belt on and started the van. “Let’s go. Our boys have to get to work soon and those printouts with their name and address can only tell us so much. Let’s go to their houses, speak to the people they live with and see what else we can learn about them. We’ll make it obvious that they’re in trouble. It’ll turn the heat up at home and make them feel more desperate for help when we swoop in to become their new best friends.”
“Shouldn’t we follow these guys?”
“These new guys are ghosts. They don’t exist on paper, guaranteed. If we lose sight of them they disappear forever.” Nastos tightened his grip on the wheel then leaned forward and started the ignition. “They are pros, and if they notice us we’re screwed. They’d be more vigilant now that they have the money on board.”
When the SUV began to drive Nastos started after it. “We can find what hotel they are staying at and follow up with them tomorrow.”
“Then we go to the cops’ houses. Why do I think it won’t be quite that easy?”
They parked outside a middle-class single-family bungalow in the suburbs of Etobicoke near the 401 and Highway 427. Nastos noticed the lawn was trampled bare and the wooden fence needed some stain. The front door was original, the windows redone maybe fifteen years ago. Nastos stopped mid-observation when he realized what he was doing. As a real estate agent, Madeleine had dragged him and Josie to the occasional viewing or open houses for a quick peek at properties. While he kept work to himself, she was all about shop talk, deals, steals, scam and drama. She would have been able to calculate square footage, give a good estimate of the property taxes and appraisal value on just what he could report to her from the roadside. She was obsessed with houses. He smiled, feeling her presence, only for the smile to disappear and for him to suddenly feel utterly alone.
Carscadden jerked him back to the present. “You done daydreaming?” He flipped through the printouts that Jacques had made from the two cops’ personnel files, for some reason dissatisfied with what he had read.
Nastos said, “Yeah, let’s do this.”
Carscadden opened his door, getting out and stretching.
Weeds grew up from between the pavers of the interlocking walkway. The front stoop was a level cement slab. Nastos rang the bell and pounded the door.
“Still have the cop-knock.”
“Thanks.” Nastos impatiently peered through the glass. “Someone’s coming.”
The door opened an inch and a blond woman peeked out. “We’re not interested.”
The door started to close again but paused when Nastos said, “We work with Radix, it’s okay.”
The gap that the young woman spied through grew larger. “Is he hurt?”
Carscadden said, “No, sorry. No, it’s nothing like that.”
The door opened to reveal a nearly naked young woman standing there. She was in her twenties, long hair, wearing shorts and a grey fleece football shirt that had been cut to reveal her six-pack abs and a slit in the neck line so she could force it over her breasts. Carscadden inadvertently stared at her cleavage before getting himself under control.
Nastos took a step sideways to make eye contact with her. “We’re with Professional Standards, we just need a quick word with you.”
She glanced from Nastos to Carscadden then hesitantly opened the door. “Sure thing. Come on in.”
Nastos noted the black cycling shorts that didn’t leave much for the imagination. “So just the two of you live here?”
She led them through a foyer to a sitting room. Black leather couches, a fifty-inch plasma screen, dark wooden end tables. “Yeah. Just the two of us.”
She wasn’t shy. She sat on the couch cross-legged, barely three in the afternoon and she was drinking a tall vodka and orange out of an Argos mug. “So what is it? Is he in trouble?” she waved a hand for them to sit down.
Carscadden sat on the far end of the couch. Nastos stood for a moment. He took out a notebook, trying to avoid eye contact at first. “Oh, no. See, he’s looking at getting into a specialty unit and we just do a quick background check. These types of things are tough on families so we like to see he has a good support system at home. My name is Greg Price and this is my partner, Tony Gerrard.”
“Tanya Pike.” She took a sip of her vodka. Nastos glanced around the room. There were a few policing books, one on search warrants, one on interviewing. There were pictures of Radix with various cops, at his police college graduation, some at the bar with drinking buddies, another with this woman wearing a cheerleader outfit. He picked the picture
up from the table.
“Are you an Argos Girl?”
“Yeah, three years. It’s the busy time right now.”
The picture was taken on the field. Radix had his arms wrapped around her waist, her arms were around his neck. Any similar pictures Nastos had of himself and Madeleine had been put away. He set the frame down and opened his notebook. “So you and Radix have dated for a while then.”
“A year.”
“It’s a nice place here. Did he own it before you moved in?”
Tanya adjusted herself on the couch. “Actually it’s mine. My dad helped me out. My dad was pissed when a guy moved in here. He didn’t want me to lose the house in case we split up. Radix offered to sign some papers with Dad’s lawyer. Ever since then Dad’s been cool with it.”
She finished off her drink. Nastos scratched a few notes in his book. “And what about his parents, how do you get along with them?”
Tanya’s face crinkled up. “They’re dead. Don’t you know that?”
Nastos paused. “No, I didn’t know that. I haven’t read his personnel file. This is just for the job position he’s being considered for.”
“Yeah, well, they both died three years ago. In that car crash? The cops were pursuing a drug dealer in a stolen car and he crashed into their SUV at Lawrence and Midland. It was on the news.”
Nastos thought back but couldn’t recall ever knowing about it. “So I guess he’s not exactly a fan of drug dealers.”
“No. Ever since his parents died, it’s like . . . You know, it’s what inspired him to be a cop. He loved the camaraderie with the guys, he loved hanging out after work. But deep down, all he thinks about is getting in a unit so he can make a difference.”
Carscadden baited her, “Like a revenge thing?”
“No. Like so what happened to him, losing his parents, never has to happen to anyone else.”
Nastos noted her body language. She was sincere. He nodded to himself. Radix seemed like a decent guy. There was a sound from the back room. Both Nastos and Carscadden turned to see a young woman, emerging from the hallway wearing only a bed sheet. She was Asian, her thin black hair a mess. She froze with a guilty smile on her face when she saw the strangers. “Sorry, Tan, I thought you were talking to your man.”
“No, he left for work early.”
“Too bad. I was hoping we could get him in the shower again.”
14
Nastos and Carscadden sat at the bar in Frankie’s Restaurant. At this hour it was dimly lit, mostly by candlelight. Mahogany, glass, soft music. And Viktor hired only beautiful people who wore all black and faded into the shadows unless called upon. Frankie’s had been voted the best Italian food in the city in Toronto Living magazine four years running but instead of becoming pretentious or uptight Viktor encouraged the opposite in his staff. They were relaxed and smiling for anyone who came in.
Nastos observed Carscadden through the mirror opposite fiddling with his BlackBerry. Nastos took a long slug from his Corona. “You should try putting that thing away for a solid two minutes. Spend some time in the real world.”
Carscadden smiled, not looking away from the tiny screen. “My mom follows me on Twitter. Letting her know what’s up.” Eventually he put it down on the bar next to his Stella. “There, happy?”
I hope he’s kidding about his mom and Twitter. “Perfectly.” Nastos finished the bottle.
“No, seriously,” Carscadden asked. “You happy?”
Nastos had no time for such an irrelevant conversation. There was nothing Carscadden or anyone could do about his happiness. “I’d be a lot happier if the person inside Morrison’s place had answered the door. I’d also be happier if I hated these two cops. It would make what we have to do next a lot easier.”
Carscadden picked up a slice of rye bread from the basket and dipped it in the balsamic vinegar. “Yeah, tell me about it. Radix is my hero. Banging two Argos girls. And he’s dedicated to taking down drug dealers because they killed his parents. It’s pretty tough to want to turn him in as a murderer.”
Nastos considered having another beer but decided against it. He glanced over at the table. Mills and his girlfriend, Liz, were there. Josie sat next to Monika Styles. Hopkins had gotten Josie all dressed up. She looked like such a big girl for nine, with her hair done and wearing an evening dress.
Carscadden continued, “I don’t know the deal on Morrison, but there’s no way in hell these guys are ruthless murderers. Whatever mistakes the cops have made, it’s all on those guys following them.”
“Yeah, exactly. I can’t wait to see what their story is. I wasn’t too surprised when it came back to a rental company. Tomorrow, first thing, we go to Express Rentals and see what they have to tell us.”
Nastos finished his beer then used the bottle to point toward the table where their friends sat. “Hopkins did a great job of making herself look beautiful.”
“Doesn’t take much.”
“Didn’t say it did.”
Carscadden held his beer out and Nastos clinked it with his empty.
“So Mills, he setting you up with Styles?”
“I hope not. He said this was just a friendly get-together, to help her meet a few people.”
“She’s smart and attractive. You think a girl like that needs help from a psychologist to meet people? I think he did this for you, to get you out of the house.”
Nastos didn’t know how to answer. Carscadden, a borderline alcoholic, was the kind of guy who actually became more clear-headed for the first few drinks. “You need another beer?”
“No, thanks. And we should get over there. I’m done with shop talk.”
Nastos gave one last thought to the people he had come across over the past few days then put it to rest. “Good idea.”
“You know, Mills knows how to push your buttons. He made it sound like you were doing the damsel in distress a favour to con you into this tonight.” Carscadden smiled and stood, placing his empty on the shelf on the inside of the bar. “And you fell for it because you’re a chump.”
Nastos eyed Mills. He still had the scruff on his face, wearing an expensive suit at a table full of beautiful women. Styles had never given any signals of interest. Reading my file over, if she was even remotely interested in me, would have been enough to scare her off anyways. She sat leaning forward, her hands wrapped around a glass of red wine. Josie was watching her like at any moment she would do magic.
Nastos observed, “She’s not sexy-hot like Hopkins is. Hopkins seems more, I dunno, forward, maybe.”
“Tell me about it. Our second date she almost raped me. Said I was too stupid to figure out that she was giving me the signals.”
“You were.”
“I know that now.”
“Styles is more, I guess, balanced. Maddy could get uptight sometimes. Styles is more in the middle of the three. You know they say opposites attract but I don’t know. I think that in some basic ways you want to be totally compatible. Maybe one should be better with doing brake jobs or picking paint colours, but I think with things like how you handle affection or finances, you should be on the same track.”
Carscadden gulped down a few more bites of bread. “I hope that doesn’t ruin my appetite for dinner.”
“Your appetite couldn’t be ruined by a gunshot wound.”
Carscadden smiled. “Well, are we gonna sit here the rest of the night or are we gonna head over and be sociable?”
They moved to the table and sat, Nastos beside Styles and Carscadden between Josie and Hopkins.
Mills asked, “You guys solve the murder yet?”
Carscadden replied, “Solving the murder isn’t the hard part. It’s chasing down the witnesses.”
Nastos shook his head at Carscadden parroting what Jacques had said earlier. “Sorry about the shop talk. We’re done now.” He took a drink
of water. “So Monika, is poor Josie going to have to stay up past her bedtime to hear you play the piano?”
Monika’s eyes shot wide open. “What? Who told you I play?” She had a Ph.D. It didn’t take her long to send a scowl at Mills, who shrugged a reply.
“It slipped out.” Mills laughed. “Come on. One song. It’s not even busy or anything.”
She exhaled and said something under her breath that might have been “I’m gonna regret this.” She finished off her glass of wine in one swig to forge some courage. Hopkins quickly refilled half the glass before Monika noticed.
Josie piped up, “Don’t be nervous. You’ll do fine.”
Styles took another sip from her glass then stood. She reached a hand out to Josie. “Here, keep me company.” Josie looked at her dad as if to ask Is she serious?
“Go,” Nastos said. “But don’t touch anything.”
Josie jumped up and followed Styles to the piano at the back of the restaurant.
Carscadden said to Nastos, “Dim the lights for her.”
“No,” he replied. “Let her just sneak in and out for a song. I don’t want people to expect a big show and wonder what the deal is when she leaves.”
The baby grand piano was usually kept behind the curtain at the back for the occasions that a performer was coming. Earlier in the day Viktor had opened the curtain and wheeled it out to a more prominent position at Nastos’ request.
