Jack Taggart Mysteries 7-Book Bundle

by Easton, Don

  “They would put me in jail?” Amanda gave a shrill-sounding laugh.

  “They take it as a personal affront if you disobey a subpoena.”

  “A personal affront?” Amanda started crying and Jack sat beside her and put his arm around her shoulder.

  “Then I don’t want you to find him,” sobbed Amanda. “Same for the three who attacked me … promise you’ll find some way to drop their charges if they don’t plead guilty.”

  Jack briefly closed his own eyes to block the tears. “Charges have already been laid against the three,” he said. “I’m sorry, it is out of my hands, but under the circumstances, I doubt that any defence lawyer would want to chance you taking the stand. They will likely plead guilty on the pretext of feeling bad for what they have done. I imagine that they will be sentenced to a couple of years in juvenile detention.”

  “And Cocktail? He won’t plead guilty. No way. He may have ordered it, but you know damn well he’ll never admit it.”

  Jack didn’t respond. He didn’t know what to say.

  “I bet you wouldn’t convict him regardless,” added Amanda. “Or if you did, maybe he would end up with four months’ house arrest like your cocaine dealer.”

  Briefly, Jack wondered about telling Amanda that if Cocktail was convicted of bludgeoning a retired priest to death with a rock, he would likely plead guilty to Amanda’s case and serve a concurrent sentence. What am I thinking? We don’t have any evidence that he committed the murder, either. He’ll likely walk on both charges.

  Jack glanced at Amanda’s face. He felt sickened and angry. How can I go on, pretending to represent justice? I really should quit. Why waste the taxpayers’ dollars with this charade?

  “You never answered,” noted Amanda. “I’m right, aren’t I? Cocktail will never face justice for what he did to me.”

  Jack remained silent for a moment, before gripping Amanda by both shoulders and staring intently into her face.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “I don’t make promises I can’t keep … so believe me when I say I will find Cocktail and that … justice will be served.”

  Jack caught the three o’clock ferry home. It was cold and windy, but he didn’t notice as he stood outside on the upper deck and stared into the waves. His BlackBerry rang and the call display told him that it was Ngoc Bích. He quickly answered and stepped inside where it was quieter.

  Ngoc Bích was crying, but managed to blubber out that the court case had gone ahead. The judge, in his summation, said that he could not accept the credibility of Ngoc Bích and the other witness over two respected businessmen. After all, said the judge, both witnesses had been prostitutes. The case was dismissed.

  Jack tried unsuccessfully to console her. When he eventually hung up, he went down to his car and wept.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Jack told Natasha over dinner about the two court cases and Amanda’s desire not to go to court. She sat quietly, slowly chewing her food.

  “Nothing to say?” asked Jack.

  “What can I say? It’s horrible,” she replied.

  Jack watched her eat and said, “It’s not like you to be so quiet. You have been a lot lately. Is there something bothering you?”

  “I’m bothered that you are so unhappy and stressed about your work.”

  “I’ll get over it.”

  Natasha shook her head and put her fork down. “I doubt you ever will, but you better find a way to deal with it emotionally. The stress will affect your health. Eventually cause you to make decisions you regret.”

  “Decisions such as …?”

  Natasha chose to ignore the question. She picked up her knife and fork to attack a piece of steak and said, “I love you. I always want you to come home alive.”

  Jack saw her eyes water. He felt guilty that his work was affecting her.

  “I want you to be the happy,” she continued. “I want to spend more time with the loving and caring guy I know. Is that too much to ask?”

  “No, it’s not too much to ask. I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have unloaded on you.”

  “Of course you should unload on me. I’m your wife, but even if I wasn’t, as a doctor, I know enough about stress and what it can do to the human body.”

  “I’ll take it easy.”

  “Don’t give me that bullshit,” she said crossly. “I know you better than that. But you do need to learn to accept the things you can’t change. You did your job. Don’t blame yourself for what some judge decides.”

  “Yeah, I know. Life isn’t fair.”

  “It certainly isn’t,” replied Natasha.

  Jack spent the rest of the evening staring at the television. He didn’t really watch any programs. It was a way to try and blank out his brain and give it a rest. Natasha understood the ritual, but wasn’t pleased when Jack told her that he would be working Saturday night. She had that night off and valued what precious time they had together.

  It was a long night for Jack. It took several hours to fall asleep. When he did, he found himself on a ladder washing Father Brown’s blood off the back of the house. It became more smeared and spread farther as he scrubbed. It was hard to reach because the ladder kept sinking into the ground. Eventually his cleaning worked and the blood disappeared. No, it hadn’t. Like magic, as only a nightmare could be, the blood kept reappearing. More streaks and splashes than before. He climbed the ladder again … it kept sinking.

  It was nine o’clock Saturday night when Jack and Laura drove Sy to the party. The house turned out to be a ramshackle rental with an overgrown yard and a single-car garage. The house had been painted yellow, but huge chunks of paint had peeled away. Street lights illuminated a couple dozen other cars parked nearby. Several young people milled around outside on the front porch.

  “Guess we’re not the first,” commented Jack. He glanced in the rearview mirror as he parked on the street and made eye contact with Laura in the back seat. She smiled at the sound of the heavy metal music vibrating the gutters on the house.

  As they entered the house, Sy introduced Jack and Laura to two men in their early twenties who went by the nicknames of “Roach” and “Bagger.”

  “These are the guys who rent the joint,” said Sy, while handing Bagger a flat of canned beer.

  Jack nodded and glanced back at the street before stepping inside. He saw a brown van arrive with dark tinted windows on the side and rear. He knew that Connie and Sammy were inside to watch and scoop licence plates. Hopefully many of Sy’s gang would be identified. Unfortunately, they knew that the people above Sy would not be attending.

  Sammy immediately left the van and pretended to walk away. Later he would return to slip unnoticed through a side door on the van. On his way back to the van, Sammy took the opportunity to jot down a licence plate of another carload of young people who had parked near Jack’s SUV and gone into the party.

  Movement caught his eye and he saw that a teenaged boy with a ponytail had stepped out from behind a nearby pickup truck and was staring at him.

  “You kids cause any vandalism tonight and I’m gonna call the cops,” said Sammy, before walking away.

  “Fuck you,” replied the boy, taking a long drag on a joint before walking back to the house.

  Sammy later snuck back to the van and lightly tapped on the side door. Connie unlocked it and let him inside.

  “Might have been spotted writing down a plate,” he said. “Any action in the last couple of minutes? Anyone come out to look around?”

  “Nothing out of the ordinary,” replied Connie.

  “Good. Maybe the little asshole was too stoned to see straight.”

  A moment later the van rocked as it was nudged by a car parking behind it. The car was full of young people who were laughing as they got out and headed for the party.

  Sammy saw that the car had blocked them in. He chuckled and said, “It looks like we may be here until the party is over. When does our overtime kick in?”

  Ro
ach and Bagger’s house was filled with young people. Jack and Laura split up, with Laura mixing with the young women while Jack tried to socialize with the males.

  Sy enjoyed the attention he received and Jack knew it gave him a sense of power. Jack also had the feeling that Sy was trying to impress him. A good sign. The more he tries to impress me, the more he will open up.

  “Hey, Bagger!” yelled a female voice from the front door. “Where are ya?”

  Jack turned and recognized Lorraine as she arrived with a younger girl.

  “Hey, Bagger!” yelled Lorraine again. “Come and meet Cassandra. She’s the one I was telling you about.”

  Bagger appeared through the crowd and made a show of ogling Cassandra, who blushed. Bagger smiled at Lorraine and asked, “Where’s Brewski?”

  “He might come later.”

  Bagger nodded and looked at Cassandra and said, “Get ya a drink? I make a good margarita.”

  “No,” replied Cassandra. “My parents would smell it. I’m not allowed.”

  “Vodka won’t smell. One won’t hurt,” said Bagger.

  “Yeah, come on, Cassie,” said Lorraine. “Don’t embarrass me by acting like a geek.”

  “Okay, I guess one won’t hurt.”

  Jack moved through the crowd for another hour before returning to the living room to sit on the sofa. He was quickly joined by Lorraine.

  “So, like, you are Sy’s new buddy?” she asked.

  “We’re getting to know each other,” replied Jack.

  Lorraine stared at him as if trying to make her mind up about something, before saying, “You know, I like older guys. You got more money and know how to please a woman.”

  Before Jack could reply she ran her hand up the inside of Jack’s thigh and said, “Come with me out to my car. I think I lost my contact lens in the back seat. You could help me look.”

  “Not interested,” replied Jack.

  “Why?” replied Lorraine in surprise. “You gay? Nobody has ever turned me down before. I can’t believe this.”

  “I’m not gay, but I’ve got a girlfriend. She’s around here someplace. You’ve met her before.”

  “So who gives a shit? I’ve got a boyfriend, too. We won’t be missed. Come on,” she said, reaching over to caress his groin.

  Jack slapped her hand away.

  Anger flashed across Lorraines face and she said, “I know your problem, you’re too old. Need me to lip-start it for ya?”

  Before Jack could reply, Lorraine muttered, “Fuck you,” and stood up abruptly and walked away.

  Outside, Connie and Sammy saw a four-door green sedan parked nearby, with two young men in the front seat and a third in the rear.

  “What are they up to?” asked Sammy. “It’s cold tonight. I don’t see any exhaust. They’ve shut the car off.”

  Connie adjusted her binoculars and saw a telltale red glow. “Smokin’ a joint,” she replied. “Wonder why they don’t go inside?”

  “Maybe they have a better appreciation of music,” replied Sammy, “and are too stoned to know how cold it is.”

  Jack tried to pretend that he was enjoying himself and mingled as best he could in the crowded room. Later, he overheard Bagger talking to Lorraine.

  “Where is she?” asked Bagger, looking around.

  “Went upstairs to use the bathroom. What do ya think?”

  “She’s fuckin’ beautiful. Roach thinks so, too.”

  “Told ya so. Hope you have fun.”

  “That’s guaranteed.”

  “Good. So, you got a present for me?”

  “Of course,” replied Bagger, digging into the pocket of his cargo pants. “A deal’s a deal. The blow is on me,” he said, passing her a small paper flap. “Got a new rig for ya, too.”

  Jack saw Lorraine put the cocaine and needle in her purse as he departed for the kitchen to find Sy.

  Sy was in the kitchen playing a drinking game with several young men. Jack saw Laura standing behind them. She rolled her eyes at him as she gestured to Sy. The men were sitting on the floor in a circle, each with a bottle of beer in front of them. On top of each bottle was an upside down bottle cap. They took turns, flicking other bottle caps with their fingers to try and knock off the cap on their opponent’s bottle. If successful, the loser had to gulp down the beer and start with a fresh bottle. Judging by the empties beside Sy, he had been losing a lot.

  Jack bent over and patted Sy on the shoulder. “What time were you thinking of leaving?”

  “I don’t know. How about after one more beer,” replied Sy, before falling over on his side. Everyone laughed and Jack pretended to be amused as he helped Sy back into a sitting position.

  “We should go,” suggested Jack.

  “Yeah, I do feel polluted,” replied Sy, “Give me ten more minutes to finish this last drink, will ya?”

  “Ten minutes and Princess and I are gone,” replied Jack, looking at his watch. “I’ll use the washroom and be right back.”

  Jack went to use the washroom on the main level, but someone had vomited on the floor.

  “There’s another one upstairs,” said a young man with a ponytail.

  Jack went upstairs and came upon a group of guys standing in the hall outside a bedroom door. He made his way past and into the washroom. Moments later, he heard the bedroom door open and Bagger say, “Hey, she was a virgin. Can you believe it! Another one.”

  “Bullshit,” said another voice.

  “Ain’t bullshittin’ yeah, man. Go take a look.”

  “Fuckin’ A. Wished she had popped her cherry with me instead of you.”

  “What the fuck, you’re next, anyway.”

  “Still not the same. Ain’t never had a virgin.”

  When Jack left the washroom he happened to follow Bagger down the stairs and into the kitchen. Upon arriving in the kitchen Bagger raised his fists above his head and danced a little jig.

  “Bagger! Ya bagged another one,” laughed one of the youths who was sitting on the floor. Before Bagger could reply, the youth flicked a beer cap between his fingers, striking Bagger in the face.

  “Hey, Fucker!” yelled Bagger, tackling the youth and rolling around on the floor, knocking over drinks as the two combatants laughed at each other.

  “Time to go,” said Jack, grabbing Sy by the arm to help him stagger to his feet.

  Sy agreed and they made their way out to Jack’s SUV. Laura got in the back seat, while Sy climbed into the passenger side as Jack started the engine.

  “So,” said Jack, while pulling out of the parking space, “I was wondering how Bagger got his nickname. I thought it was from selling baggies of weed.”

  “Oh, fuck no,” replied Sy. “He got it for all the chicks he bags. He’s always getting laid.”

  “A real smooth talker with the ladies, is he?” asked Laura.

  “Not much talkin’ involved,” mumbled Sy. “I know a guy, Cocktail, who keeps us connected with GHB. Ya know what that is?”

  Jack nodded.

  “There’s a reason they call it the date-rape drug,” slurred Sy. “Bagger’s too fuckin’ ugly to get laid without it.”

  The conversation between Lorraine and Bagger and the introduction of Cassandra flashed into Jack’s brain. The realization and the rage he felt instinctively caused him to slam on the brakes. He briefly wondered who he wanted to kill first. Bagger and the other young men standing in line waiting to take their turn with Cassandra, or the slobbering drunk sitting beside him.

  “Jay,” said Laura quietly from the back seat, “didn’t you say you had a friend who was in the market for GHB?” She sensed his anger and her question was meant to both caution and remind him that their real objective was to identify Cocktail.

  “Why ya stopping?” asked Sy, looking around, completely clueless as to the rage Jack felt.

  Jack took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

  “Why we stoppin’?” Sy asked again.

  “A cat ran out in front of us,” replied Jack, as h
e commenced driving again. “You mentioned a guy by the name of Cocktail. With a name like that, what is he, a bartender?” asked Jack, feigning a chuckle.

  “No. Forget about him.”

  Connie and Sammy had watched as Jack, Laura, and Sy came out of the house and got into their SUV to drive away. As soon as Jack pulled away, the green sedan also drove off in a hurry.

  “Coincidence?” suggested Connie. “They did start their car a couple of minutes before Jack and Laura came out.”

  “Shit!” yelled Sammy. “They’re unrolling the rear windows! Hang on,” he added, throwing the gear in reverse and ramming the car behind them.

  “What the hell you doing?” yelled Connie.

  “They’re smokin’ a joint. Not likely they’re going to let the smoke out of the car without reason. Besides, it’s cold out.” He rammed the car behind them a second time and said, “Damn it, we’ll never catch up in time. Why are you sitting there? Call Jack!”

  “Tell him they’re being followed?”

  “Being followed? Jesus, Connie!” yelled Sammy.

  “I don’t work drugs. What the —”

  “It’s a hit!” screamed Sammy. “They’re going to shoot them!”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Jack stopped behind a car parked in the centre lane at a red light when his BlackBerry rang.

  Laura caught the eye contact Jack made with her in the rear view mirror. Something’s up …

  “Hi, Aunt Connie,” she heard Jack say. “Calm down. Take a breath and talk quietly,” he added, pressing the receiver tight to his ear so Sy wouldn’t hear.

  “You’re being tailed,” said Connie excitedly. “Three assholes in a four-door green sedan. They were sitting in the car watching the house and smoking a joint. They left as soon as you did and rolled the rear windows down. Sammy thinks they might be getting ready to shoot you.”

  Laura saw Jack check the side mirrors before riveting his attention back to the rearview mirror. This time he wasn’t looking at her.