“Well, I thought it might be a possibility.”
“He would never do that. He loves Ariel.”
But I’m not going to let it go.
“Did you know that his business is on the point of bankruptcy?”
“I do. But he knows that my trust fund is set up such that no-one can get at the capital, not even me.”
We sit in silence for a while and for the first time I take the time to look around the room. It is typical old-money Shaughnessy. There is dark wood paneling that goes halfway up the walls and above that there are a bunch of family pictures, some of them very old. Among the newer pictures is one of the Bradburys with a babe in arms, probably Ariel. They are standing on a balcony and behind them is an unique-looking seascape with islands in the distance; it looks like pictures I’ve seen of Thailand. The shape of the islands is unusual; they look like a dragon with his head in the water. The Bradburys looked so happy then, Rebecca is laughing, Dave is looking at her adoringly. It makes me sad.
“Was there anything else Mr. Rogan?” The patrician attitude has returned.
I get up to leave. “That’s a lovely photo,” I say.
“Yes.” She smiles wistfully. “Happier days.”
She walks me to the front door and shakes my hand.
“I’m going to do everything I can to get Ariel back,” I tell her. But how? I only know what my next step is going to be and have no idea what’s beyond that.
I can feel the depression settling onto my shoulders. A hit of heroin would be so sweet right now.
To say Arnold’s office is austere would be like saying the Antarctic is a bit chilly in winter. Seems fitting.
The four of us are seated at a table. Larry Corliss looks like I feel; he does not want to be here. Ian Peake is sitting ramrod straight framed by the sunny window behind him; he looks a little like a Norse god—a simile he would approve of. Arnold is… well, just Arnold.
“As you know Mr. Rogan, yesterday Mr. Corliss withdrew his candidacy and the press is an uproar.” I nod like I know all this; fact is I haven’t had time to catch up on the news and anyway I want to be out of here as fast as I can; I need to bounce my last-ditch plan for finding Ariel off Stammo.
“True to their word, the next day the blackmailers transferred a quarter of a million dollars to his account. It was transferred from an account in Switzerland. Normally this would be completely untraceable but, as you know, I have contacts there and I was able to ascertain that the account was owned by a Corporation called Razor Point Holdings. Unfortunately, it is incorporated in the Cayman Islands and try as I might I have been unable to find out who controls it.”
I wonder what this has to do with me.
“So we need to find some other line of investigation. What do you suggest?”
I think for a bit. No one speaks.
“If we can’t follow the money then we need to know who benefits from your withdrawal from the race. Because of your stance on legalizing drugs it would almost certainly be a drug gang. Only a drug gang could afford to pay you that much to stay out of politics. There are several gangs who could afford it but my bet would be that Carlos Santiago is the most likely.”
Nods all around the table. Silence.
“Also your opponents benefit. Of the people left in the race for the seat, only Ed Perot has a chance. With you out the way, as the incumbent, he’s a shoe-in.”
Corliss objects. “Cal, Arnold disagrees with me but I’ve known Ed Perot for years, he’s a good man. I can’t imagine that he would be involved in this.”
I think back to the debate between Corliss and Perot on Tuesday evening. I got a good feeling about Perot but I’m willing to play the devil’s advocate here. “If Santiago is blackmailing you to stay out of the race, I’ll bet he would be funding Perot’s campaign through some third party. But I don’t know how we might find that out.”
“I might,” Arnold chips in. “Let me look into that. Meanwhile, it would be good if you, Mr. Rogan, investigate Ed Perot and see if he is as squeaky clean as he seems.”
Why do I feel that this request was a foregone conclusion, that I have been manipulated into taking on a project that I really don’t want?
I go to object but stop myself. There’s no way Arnold will let me off this hook.
29
Stammo
It says Siegel’s on the bag he’s carrying. No way Rogan, you are not going to patch this over with bagels, cream cheese and lox.
“Hey Nick.”
I don’t answer, just pick up the phone and dial. When Steve answers, I put him on speaker.
“Hi Steve. Rogan’s here now. Let’s talk.” Rogan looks embarrassed. So he should.
“Hi guys.”
I’m gonna take charge of this call. “First thing, Rogan’s gonna give you a debrief on his trip to Salt Spring.”
“Good.” Steve manages to put a lot of sarcasm into that one word.
Rogan gives him the full rundown on his fuck-up. He has the good grace to apologize a couple of times too.
When he’s finished, Steve says, “You should have told me first, Cal. I could have had someone there from the RCMP detachment. We could have arrested this Sherri Oliver and at least one of her gang. One of them would have flipped on the other during interrogation. Now, we’ve got nothing.”
“Yeah, I know, I know. I’m sorry Steve.”
“I’m sending a member over to Salt Spring to keep an eye on that cafe and look out for the boat they escaped on but it’s probably a waste of time. I should charge you for the expense of sending him there.” Rogan cuts me a glance and I nod. Yes, Rogan, I already gave Steve all the details of your fuck-up.
“I’m also sending a man to Pender Island. That was the direction the boat was going right?”
A puzzled look runs across Rogan’s face. “I don’t know, Steve,” he says. “I’ve never really looked at a map of the Gulf Islands.”
I jump in. “Well I have. If you take a boat out of Long Harbour and keep going you get to Pender Island.”
“Oh,” is all he can say.
“Cal, you’ve shown that you can’t cooperate with us, so I want you to drop this case.”
Shit. Steve didn’t tell me that was on his mind. The Bradbury broad’s a big client in terms of dollars. I gotta—
“I can’t do that Steve,” he says “I won’t stop until I find Ariel. Dead or alive. But I promise I will keep you in the loop on everything I do.”
“Yeah. Well OK.” Steve knows he can’t stop us investigating. “But you’ll excuse me if I don’t do the same for you.” This is not going well. We need the help of the VPD if we’re gonna do a job for Rebecca Bradbury, not to mention a bunch of other cases.
Steve asks Cal a few questions on the details of his Salt Spring trip and is about to hang up when Cal stops him.
“Before you go Steve, how’s the case on the kiddy-porn guy Thomas Radcliffe?”
I wonder why he’s interested. We know Radcliffe didn’t have anything to do with Ariel’s kidnapping. Maybe he’s just making nice with Steve.
“Yeah, he tried to get bail but we scotched that, we’ve got him dead to rights on the porn charges. I’ve got a team investigating the murder of Mark Traynor and we may be on to something. There was some DNA evidence that Radcliffe had been at Traynor’s place. We went through Traynor’s computer with a fine-tooth comb and we found a letter that looked like a blackmail letter except that it didn’t mention Radcliffe or indeed any specific person. It was all a bit vague.”
“OK, thanks Steve.”
“Oh, Nick. I talked to the Drug Squad this morning, they’re trying hard to get some info on that Bookman guy. I asked them to keep you in the loop.”
When Steve hangs up there’s an uneasy silence.
Rogan gets up and brings a couple of plates and knives from the kitchen then goes back for glasses. He spreads out the contents of the Siegel’s bag and cracks open a couple of cans of Talisman. Boy he’s really trying to win
me over.
“I’m sorry Nick.”
What can I say? ‘So you should be?’ ‘Sorry doesn’t cut it?’ ‘Don’t let it happen again?’
I settle for, “OK.”
As we eat, he tells me about his meeting with Rebecca Bradbury. I can’t believe that her husband didn’t know that the kid’s not his. I’ve seen too many marriages in difficulty where one parent uses the kids against the other; kidnapping’s a bit extreme but you never know. Plus it would require Bradbury to be mixed up with some pretty unpleasant characters.
“I’ve got some new work out of Arnold,” he says. Normally I’d be happy but we are slammed; we’ve got to get ourselves an assistant. With him spending so much time on the Bradbury kid I’m doing all the work on the projects we had before. Plus I want him to help me on tracking down Tyler; I proved to myself last night that I can’t do it alone. It still burns.
“Cal,” I say. He looks at me and there’s a kindness in his eyes.
“Tyler?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
“Hey, that reminds me. There’s something I forgot to ask you. This Bookman character, does he ever happen to wear snakeskin boots?”
“Dunno. I’ll ask Eddie. Why.”
“There was a guy at the Corliss debate who had the look. I just have this nagging intuition he might be the Bookman. Probably wrong.”
“Not good news for Corliss if he was,” I say and he just nods.
“Anyway Nick, how can I help with Tyler?” he asks.
“I saw him yesterday.”
“Your voice tells me it didn’t go well,” he says.
“Nah. Like you suspected, he didn’t want to know me. Said he was doing OK but something didn’t feel right y’know. It was like… I dunno. He said he wanted to be with the gang but he also kinda said he couldn’t leave even if he wanted to. He showed up in that car owned by the Bookman.”
“Did you get the plate?”
“Yeah but it was registered to a company. I looked ’em up but couldn’t find anything on them. No website, nothing in the Federal or Provincial company listings. It was like they didn’t exist.”
“Drugs for sure.”
“Yeah.” I can hear the despair in my own voice.
“You’ll track him down, Nick. If anyone can it’s—”
Even I hear the sigh that I give. Thank God I don’t have to beg. I was prepared to, for sure. Instead I tell him what I need him to do. He agrees. No ifs ands or buts.
It takes a while and another couple of Talismans to work out how we’re gonna divide the workload before he goes out to start his part of the investigation into Perot and follow the only lead he’s got on Ariel. Then I realize, he didn’t tell Steve about that. Shit.
30
Cal
Irony. Doing a B and E to help a cop. It’s just what I’m going to do right now. I don’t really want to do it but Stammo promised Steve that we’d help with the Mark Traynor murder investigation. I really resent the time but I can’t follow my lead on Ariel until this afternoon anyway, so I’m going to break into Thomas Radcliffe’s office this morning.
It’s an older building and there are only four offices per floor. The door marked Radcliffe Productions and Canada’s Littlest Beauty has a fairly old style of lock which should succumb to the lock-pick set I keep in my possession—a piece of evidence from one of the first cases I worked when I was with VPD. I may not have to use it; maybe the old plastic trick will work. I turn the door handle so that I can see if the door will move enough for me to slide my celluloid strip between it and the doorframe.
I almost fall into the reception area when the door opens fully.
Radcliffe’s secretary grins at my awkward entry. It’s a friendly grin. Then she remembers the last time I was here. I need to turn that around.
I give her my best smile. “To tell the truth, I was expecting the office to be closed, what with Mr. Radcliffe being in prison. I’m surprised you’re still here. You must be a very loyal person.”
She melts just a bit. “Yes, well…”
I give her a sympathetic smile. “I work quite closely with the police and they are going to be charging him with the murder of Mark Traynor.”
There is a look of panic in her face. “No, no they can’t. He was in an investor meeting for Beauty when that little worm was killed. I told the police.” There is something else in her face too.
“You told the police that?” I ask and the look gets more intense. She’s flustered. This may not be the outcome I was expecting.
Before waiting for an answer, I say, “You see, the police have DNA evidence and a blackmail note that Traynor sent to Mr. Radcliffe.”
“But he didn’t do it. Tom would never kill someone. I just know.” Tom eh? Not Thomas or Mr. Radcliffe.
I switch tracks for a moment.
“How long have you worked for him?”
Her face morphs from fluster to something much softer. “Three years. Just before he started Canada’s Littlest Beauty.”
“You like it here?”
“Oh yes. It’s so interesting and Mr. Radcliffe is a wonderful boss.” I can see it in her eyes. I think I do anyway. Oh well, here goes.
“You love him don’t you.”
She stares at me for a moment, then nods, afraid to say it out loud. Tears are starting to spring into her eyes.
“What’s your name?” I ask gently.
“Adriana.”
“Listen Adriana. The evidence against Tom is pretty overwhelming. The one piece of evidence in his favour is your alibi that he was at an investor meeting at the time of the murder. The police may well be interviewing the people who were at the dinner meeting. If they find any discrepancy in your alibi for Tom, they are going to be coming here and arresting you for obstruction of justice. You could go to jail for that.”
She goes from lovelorn to stricken.
“But Tom didn’t do it. I know he would never kill anyone.”
“But you did lie to the police didn’t you.”
A pause. A long pause. I let it run.
Finally, “Yes.”
If I do this right, I’m going to get the truth, the whole truth.
“I think I can help you. You look like you could do with a coffee. Why don’t you close the office and we’ll go up the street to the Blenz.”
Her sign of relief is heartfelt.
Steve wanted us to find evidence for Radcliffe’s innocence in the murder of Traynor and so did I for that matter. Seems like I did the opposite.
31
Sam
I go to the door. Not limping too much, no stick. The MS is in remission. I check through the peephole and feel a twinge of sadness that some of the events of the past have made me more cautious than I would like.
Cal is standing there holding a bunch of daffodils. Even through the fish-eye lens, I can see he’s as nervous as a schoolboy on a first date. Why would that be? Why is he bringing me flowers? I wish I had my camera in my hand; I’d love to catch him in this moment. Somehow through the lens I seem to see the real truth of a person. Oh, Cal. I feel a tear welling up but I blink it away, put a big smile on my face, throw open the door and say, “Hi Cal, come in.”
He grins back. “Hi.” He thrusts the flowers into my hand. “For you.”
“Daddyyyyy!” Ellie bounces down the stairs and throws herself into his arms. As always, he spins her around, plants a big kiss on her cheek and carries her into the house.
“What are we going to do today, Daddy?” she asks.
He puts her down. “Well about that sweetie—” Oh, no.
“What? What? What?” She bounces up and down in anticipation.
Too many times Cal has cancelled his time with Ell and it’s always because of some work thing. It really hurts her because she idolizes him. I’ll be furious if—
“Well,” he says dragging out the word. Looking guiltily at her.
“What, Daddy?”
He looks at me and sees the anger i
n my face. Anger for Ell and anger for me. I need tonight free.
He looks back at Ell, thinks for a moment and then smiles, “Well, Elles Bells, we are going on a trip.” He does a Groucho Marx thing with his eyebrows. “We’re going to take a floatplane and spend today and tonight on a place called Pender Island.”
“I love it. When are we leaving?”
“Right now. We’re going to explore the island and walk on the beaches and eat in restaurants and stay up late and stay at a B & B.”
“A B & B!” She starts bouncing again. “A B & B, a B & B!”
She stops bouncing and turns to me. “Mommy, what’s a B & B?”
Cal starts laughing and I join in, as much for relief as for humour It feels good. Still laughing I head for the kitchen to make coffee, painfully aware that my laughter could turn to tears at any second.
“How’s your thing with Perot going?” The question jolts me. How the hell does he know?
“What thing?” I ask. I cringe at the defensive sound of my voice.
“You know, the photos you’re doing for him.”
I try not to show my relief. “Oh. Yes. Good. He’s very photogenic. You should check his website, they’re all up there.”
“What’s he like?” The question seems innocent enough but with Cal you never know.
“Why?” I spot the tone in my voice again.
He looks puzzled. “Well with Larry Corliss out of the race, as the incumbent he’s a shoe-in. I was wondering what sort of politician he is.”
“He’s a really nice guy. Very thoughtful and very smart.” I better pre-empt. “He was so happy with the photos I took on Tuesday that he took Ell and me out to dinner last night.”
“Wow, he must have been very impressed. Two days after you took the photos.” Oh God, he’s suspicious.
“It was no big deal. He’d had a business meeting planned and had the reservation but the meeting was cancelled at the last minute, so he took us.” The truth. Up to a point.
Cal Rogan Mysteries, Books 1, 2 & 3 (Box Set) Page 76
