Jack Taggart Mysteries 7-Book Bundle

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Jack Taggart Mysteries 7-Book Bundle Page 183

by Easton, Don


  “Figured it could never get better than that. Trying to live our dreams of becoming musicians,” added Jennings, wistfully.

  “I have stayed in the music business,” said Tom. “I’m running a music studio in Vancouver. But what happened to you? Last time I saw you, you had picked up some hippie chick and were driving a beat-up VW van. Back then you were spending your time singing at protest marches.”

  “That was more than a few years ago,” replied Jennings, shaking his head in wonder.

  “At least you were following your dream of singing.”

  Jennings smiled, patting Tom on the shoulder. “It so happens, I married that hippie chick. Her name is Anna and we have two kids. Fourteen-year-old Buddy and nine-year-old Peggy Sue.”

  “Buddy and Peggy Sue!” Tom chuckled. “You always were a Buddy Holly fan. I think Peggy Sue was his top song. Guess it’s better than naming your kids Moon Beam or Star Dust or something.”

  “Come on, I wasn’t ever that stoned.”

  Tom glanced around the room. “Looking at this crowd, I expect you’re driving a BMW or a Lexus?”

  “Naw. I traded in the van. Now I have a Toyota and a Ford pickup. Also own four acres of land north of the city. Even has orange trees.”

  “White picket fence?”

  Jennings smiled. “Not yet, but I’m working on it.” He stared at Tom for a moment and added, “Sure wish you could come and stay with us for a few days.”

  “Maybe next time. My flight back to Vancouver is already booked. Next summer I’ll be down again. I’ll take you up on your offer then.”

  “I’ll hold you to that, amigo. So enough about me. Tell me about yourself. Where did life take you? I see you’re wearing a wedding ring.”

  “After touring with some bands for a few years, I ended up back in Vancouver running a music studio. My wife’s name is Diane and she is from Medicine Hat, Alberta. We have two sons, Tim and Tod, and a daughter, Jadine. Life is treating me good.”

  “That’s great.” Jennings raised his glass of wine in a toast. “Me, too.”

  Tom clinked his beer bottle on the glass and smiled. “I’m glad to hear it, although I still can’t believe you’re wearing a suit, let alone working for the establishment.”

  “Well … hang on, that’s my boss across the room … Oskar Cruickshank. Looks like he’s headed our way.”

  Tom glanced at the man approaching. Oskar was dressed like an executive who had been featured by Forbes magazine, complete with silk tie and gold cufflinks. His short black hair had only a trace of grey above his ears and Tom guessed him to be about forty years old.

  “Oskar’s a good guy,” said Jennings. “He saw a lot more in me than some hippie strumming a guitar. He understood my passion to make this planet a better place.”

  Tom saw two men following Oskar. “Who are the guys tagging along with him?”

  “The heavy-set guy directly behind him is Ben Pike. He’s an ex-Marine and hired occasionally on contract for corporate security. I don’t know who the other guy is.”

  Ben Pike was in his mid-thirties and had a muscular physique. He walked with the backs of his hands facing forward, reminding Tom of how a gorilla would walk. His red hair bristled in a brush-cut and he wore a cheap suit that should have made Tom feel better. Somehow it didn’t.

  The third man, they would soon learn, was Oskar’s brother, Virgil. One glance told Tom that Virgil didn’t belong with this crowd, either. Virgil was ten years younger than his brother and had a shaved head and a one-carat diamond stud in his ear. He wore an open silk shirt to expose a heavy gold necklace. Tom didn’t have to be in the music business to know Virgil was into the drug scene.

  Jennings introduced Oskar to Tom and Oskar gave a warm and friendly handshake, before introducing his brother Virgil and then Pike.

  “Tom is one of your fellow Canucks,” said Jennings, as he glanced at Oskar.

  “No kidding?” replied Oskar. He turned and smiled at Tom, then asked, “Where are you from?”

  “I’m from Vancouver,” replied Tom. “I run a music studio there.”

  “Good,” replied Oskar. “Vancouver is Virgil’s turf, but I hang my hat in Victoria when I go back.”

  “I appreciate you letting me crash your party,” added Tom.

  “Not a problem. My brother is crashing the party, too. Isn’t that right, Virgil?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “What do you do in Vancouver?” asked Tom, giving Virgil a friendly smile.

  “A little bit of this, a little bit of that. I’m an entrepreneur,” replied Virgil coldly, before turning his back to stare at a young woman across the room.

  Tom felt the uncomfortable silence so he smiled and turned to Pike. “I hear you are an ex-Marine.”

  “Yeah,” replied Pike, “while I was busy risking my life and losing friends in Iraq, your friend here was protesting and prancing around singing songs.” He scowled at Jennings and added, “Patriotic you’re not, isn’t that right?”

  “I would not hesitate to fight to defend my own country,” said Jennings evenly, “but not to invade to make an oil grab in someone else’s country.”

  “Oil? Bullshit! We invaded because of what those bastards did to us at 9/11! How come you weren’t protesting that?”

  “Iraq had nothing to do with 9/11. You need to take a look at Saudi —”

  “Gentlemen,” said Oskar sternly. “No more of that talk. It’s Christmas. We’re here to enjoy ourselves.”

  Pike took a deep breath and slowly exhaled before saying, “You’re right, I’m sorry. Christmas is a tough time of year for me. I know too many who won’t ever be coming home to be with their wives and kids.”

  “I understand,” replied Jennings, quietly.

  “Apology accepted?” asked Pike, sticking out his hand.

  Jennings shook his hand and said, “No problem. It’s what makes America great. Everyone is entitled to an opinion.”

  “I understand you’re taking tomorrow off work,” said Oskar, looking at Jennings. “You taking your friend out on the town?”

  “No, Tom has to get back to Vancouver. Tomorrow morning I’m hanging Christmas lights on the house while Anna takes the kids shopping. Then in the afternoon we’re going out to pick a Christmas tree.”

  “Sounds nice,” replied Oskar. “Christmas should be the time for families.”

  “It’s kind of a tradition with us,” said Jennings. “In the evening we decorate the tree and then sit in front of the fireplace singing carols and drinking eggnog. I’d invite you, but our singing is pretty awful.”

  “That’s okay.” Oskar smiled. “My new girlfriend has invited me over for dinner. It will be interesting to see if she can cook.” He looked around at the crowd, then smiled apologetically and said, “Guess I should continue making the rounds. Have a merry Christmas.”

  Once they were out of earshot, Tom asked, “You like Oskar?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “I don’t know.” Tom shrugged. “Something doesn’t feel right. I wouldn’t trust them.”

  “Them? You mean, Virgil. Yeah, don’t worry. He doesn’t have anything to do with the company. He’s only visiting Oskar.”

  “Not only him,” replied Tom. “Oskar, too. Why would he be hanging out with a goon like Pike?”

  “I told you, Pike is corporate security.”

  “I doubt Oskar is in need of security tonight. Some of these people might get drunk, but they don’t look like the type to take a swing at anybody.”

  “I don’t understand. What are you getting at?” asked Jennings.

  Tom eyed Oskar across the room as he smiled and patted someone on the back. “I don’t know … your boss seems too smooth. Not your league.”

  “Not my league? Tom, I’m not some kid trying to make a living strumming a guitar. I’ve grown up.”

  “I know.”

  “So what is it? Don’t tell me you’re jealous I’m in the big bucks? You know I never cared about that
.”

  “It’s not the money,” replied Tom, feeling hurt that Jennings would think that. “I’m glad you’re doing well. Maybe I’m just being cynical, thinking of that old story.”

  “What old story?” asked Jennings.

  “Where some environmentalist becomes such a pain in the ass, the oil companies hire them and give them a big salary to shut them up.”

  “When have you ever known me to shut up?” said Jennings, grinning.

  “Good point.” Tom smiled before becoming sombre again. “Still, I never pictured you as being welcomed by establishment, let alone accepting the offer.”

  “It’s a chance to do some good for the planet and humanity both. I’ve got two kids. I want them to grow up in a safer and better world.”

  “Don’t we all,” replied Tom, as his attention was diverted across the room. “And who is that fellow?” he asked, with a nod toward another man who was talking to Pike. “He looks pretty nasty, as well.”

  “I think he’s supposed to look nasty,” said Jennings thoughtfully. “He’s Pike’s partner in corporate security. Goes by the nickname of Rabbit. Both of them are only hired on short term contracts to provide security on occasion.”

  “Rabbit? You gotta be kidding. Sounds like a cartoon character.”

  “Anything but,” said Jennings seriously. “He’s an ex-Marine as well.”

  “Yeah? Why do they call him Rabbit?”

  “You tell me,” smiled Jennings. “Take a look.”

  Tom looked at Rabbit, who was walking over to the bar. As he walked, he tended to bounce off the toes of each foot, causing his head to bob slightly higher than normal. It gave the impression he was hopping. “Got it.” Tom snickered.

  “Figured you would. You always were perceptive.”

  “So tell me, why would a company like yours need to hire them? Seems to me, everyone should be happy with what you are doing.”

  “Some of the places we go are a little dangerous. Third-world countries … slums. Places where if you’re white, it is automatically presumed you are rich. Actually, by the standards in those countries, we really are … which makes us prime targets for muggers or even kidnappers.”

  “So those two goons are suppose to protect you?” asked Tom.

  “They can handle themselves. Both of them have all sorts of black belts and used to instruct some sort of martial-arts program when they were with the Marines. Either one could snap your neck like a pretzel.”

  “That’s comforting,” said Tom sarcastically. “Pike the Spike and Killer Rabbit.”

  Jennings chuckled. “Those would be good nicknames for those two.”

  Unfortunately, Jennings was about to find out how accurate the description was.

  Chapter Two

  It was ten o’clock the following morning when Tom strolled down Wilcox Avenue. On one side of the street were a row of bail bonds shops, while on the other side a row of police cruisers led up to the entrance to the Los Angeles Police Department.

  Years earlier, Tom had known a few friends who were detectives working out of the building. Back then, he wasn’t adverse to passing on information about some of the real bad guys who were trying to get their talons into the music industry.

  A phone call earlier told him one friend still remained. Brent Morgan had since been promoted from detective to captain and was happy to meet with his old acquaintance.

  Morgan met Tom at the front counter and after the initial greeting, Morgan suggested he drive Tom someplace for coffee.

  “Really good to see you again, Morgy,” said Tom, as he settled into the front seat of an unmarked police car.

  “You too, Tom. It’s been a long time. Hearing your voice this morning really brought back some memories of the old days.” He glanced at Tom sideways and said, “Thought I would take you to the northwest corner of La Brea and Sunset.”

  Tom reflected a moment, then smiled. “Tiny Naylor’s Drive-in. Where I used to meet you and the boys to pass on a little intel once in a while.”

  “Glad to see your memory is still sharp. I sure miss those days when there was still some real glamour around here.”

  “It has really changed,” replied Tom. “I hardly recognize it anymore.”

  “You got that right. Remember how much you hated drug dealers and told me the dope situation would become more nasty and lethal as time went on?”

  “I remember.”

  “Well, you were right.” Morgan stopped at a traffic light and took the opportunity to eyeball Tom. “So tell me, I have the feeling this is more than a social visit. What’s up?”

  “Well, maybe nothing. I’m worried about an old friend. Nobody you know.”

  Tom then told Morgan about his friend, Paul Jennings, working for Oskar Cruickshank and expressed his concern that something didn’t seem right. He also told him about Virgil Cruickshank and Ben Pike. “After all these years, I hate to be coming to you right off the bat looking for a favour, but I was wondering if there was some way you could check these guys out?”

  “You’ve done us a ton of favours in the past, glad I can finally do you one,” replied Morgan, reaching for his cellphone.

  Before coffee was over, Tom had the information.

  “You’re right about Virgil,” said Morgan. “He is a scumbag. Narcotics has info he is running meth down from Canada. Apparently low-level. They haven’t had time to work on him.”

  “What about Oskar and Pike?”

  “Nothing on Pike. Commercial Crimes Division made a few phone calls for us and from what they were told, Oskar is a straight shooter who is trying to keep the rich folks from investing in things that might upset their conscience.”

  “Sounds like I was wrong to be suspicious about Oskar.”

  Morgan took a sip of coffee and looked thoughtful before saying, “I think you’re losing your touch, Tom. Don’t ya know rich people don’t have a conscience?”

  Tom knew Morgan was joking and both men grinned at each other.

  “And as far as Virgil goes, he is just visiting,” added Morgan. “Seems to me like your worries are for naught.”

  “I’m really glad to hear that,” replied Tom, breathing a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Morgy.”

  Paul Jennings stood in his garage and waved goodbye to Buddy and Peggy Sue as Anna backed the car out of the driveway. Moments later, he placed his ladder up to the eaves and hauled out a box of Christmas lights.

  He had barely started hanging the lights when Pike and Rabbit drove up. He gave them a wave and climbed down the ladder to greet them. “Merry Christmas! You guys have a good time last night?”

  “It was nice,” replied Rabbit.

  “What’s up?” asked Jennings. “I didn’t even know you knew where I lived.”

  Pike smiled. “Oskar sent us to tell you that you are a tremendous asset to the corporation and we have something for you.”

  “You’re not carrying a fruitcake, so tell me,” said Jennings, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice, “are you guys handing out Christmas bonuses?”

  “Not exactly,” said Rabbit, before turning and smiling at Pike.

  Jennings automatically diverted his attention and also smiled expectantly at Pike for an answer. The small distraction was what Rabbit had planned.

  Jennings belched air from his lungs and doubled over when Rabbit’s fist drilled deep into his solar plexus. Rabbit was about to use the heel of his hand to ram Jennings chin upwards, while simultaneously delivering a blow with his other hand to the base of Jennings’s neck, but Pike shoved him out of the way.

  “Don’t break his neck,” said Pike. “I’ve got a better idea,” he said, stepping behind Jennings and placing a chokehold on the carotid artery in his neck that left him only semiconscious.

  “What gives?” asked Rabbit. “I thought we wanted to make it look like he fell off his ladder?”

  “Too quick for this bastard. Take the ladder down and smash it through his front window while I hold him.”


  Rabbit did as requested and stepped back.

  Pike nodded to the shards of broken glass sticking up from the bottom of the windowsill. “Got the picture?”

  Rabbit snickered. “Yeah, I got it. Messier, but I got it.”

  Jennings coughed and sputtered when the chokehold was released, but had no time to protest, before Pike and Rabbit grabbed him by the arms and the back of his head and rammed his throat across a shard of broken glass.

  Jennings flailed with his arms in a failed attempt to stop the attack, but all he did was cut his hands. When he was released, his bloody fingers clawed on the carpeting in a panicked attempt to pull himself inside the house to escape his attackers.

  Pike and Rabbit knew Jennings’s severed jugular was fatal and simply stood back and watched. Seconds later, Jennings’s body collapsed across the window frame, leaving only his legs sticking outside.

  Chapter Three

  It was Buddy and Peggy Sue’s hysterical and terrified screams that caused Anna to drop the Christmas presents she was unloading from the car. She had no idea of the horrific atrocity awaiting her as she ran into the living room.

  What the three of them saw was a spectacle that would imprint on their brains forever. It was like a horror movie that would play itself over and over again, when they were awake and when they were asleep.

  The murder was classified as accidental. It was believed the ladder had fallen, perhaps when Jennings had yanked on a tangle of Christmas lights that were evident near the base of the ladder.

  Eight years passed before two unrelated criminal acts in Canada provided the police with a clue as to what had really happened in Los Angeles.

  In Surrey, British Columbia, Amanda Evans had dropped out of high school before completing her grade twelve to give birth to her daughter, Megan. Her boyfriend didn’t wait around to see the birth of his daughter, opting instead to leave when Amanda was six months’ pregnant.

  Amanda had not seen or heard from him in the three years that had passed since then. Neither did she care to. During that time, Amanda had obtained a cashier’s position at a local grocery store and had also managed to obtain her diploma through adult education.

 

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