Dan Sharp Mysteries 4-Book Bundle

by Jeffrey Round

  Across the floor, Dan spied a woman in a caftan seated on a tall-backed chair. He wondered how long she’d been sitting waiting for them to find her in that pose.

  “Dan Sharp, this is my mother.”

  “None of that ‘mother’ stuff,” she commanded in a throaty growl. “It’s Marilyn, thank you.”

  Dan recalled Pfeiffer’s remark that his mother had dated Jags Rohmer. He guessed her to be in her late fifties. He knew the type. She was part of a breed of women who came of age in the 1970s, caught between the sexual revolution of the sixties and the feminist movement that followed in its wake, women with gloomy eyes and smoky voices who had had a brief fling with a rock star or been discovered by some now-forgotten fashion designer while standing on a street corner and photographed in chic outfits during a modelling career that spanned approximately one week. The same women who ever after embodied a sense of entitlement that took them places they didn’t really belong other than through the sheer force of their personalities. Pfeiffer’s mother was one of those.

  Then she leaned forward. Dan caught a glimpse of her in the light, the planes of her face shifting into focus for a moment before she backed into the shadows again. Marilyn Pfeiffer. Suddenly the name rang out in a brilliant cacophony. She’d been famous once, he recalled. A leading role in an iconic Canadian film thirty years or more ago.

  “Chance Encounter,” Dan said.

  Marilyn seemed suddenly animated. “All that was a long time ago,” she said. “But really? You remember?”

  “You’re a Canadian icon.”

  She demurred. “Yes, always a pity about that adjective Canadian.”

  “Dan’s client is Jags Rohmer,” Pfeiffer told her.

  She regarded him with greater interest now, her attention focused on his face, as though scanning for headline news.

  “What do you do for Jags? Are you his agent?”

  “No, I’m his personal bodyguard.”

  She stiffened, as if the answer had somehow made her wary. “Well, tell him Marilyn says ‘hello.’”

  Pfeiffer fidgeted in Dan’s line of vision. “Show him the record.”

  “Show him yourself. It’s over there somewhere.”

  Dan turned to see a cabinet stuffed with magazines, books, and knick-knacks. Here and there, the spines of record albums jutted out at irregular angles, as though an eccentric librarian had made a half-hearted attempt at organizing them by some arcane system of reference: colour coding, perhaps, or thematically by mood. Who knew what treasures it held? Donny and Germ would have a field day here, he suspected.

  “Mother’s got an album autographed by Jags. One of his first.”

  “The first.”

  Pfeiffer held something out to his mother.

  “Here are your cigarettes. Don’t you keep a spare pack around here somewhere? It might save me from having to drop by at midnight.”

  She gave him a sour look. “What difference does it make? I knew you weren’t working.”

  “I could have been.”

  She accepted the cigarettes and waved her arms wearily, with an affectation of disdain. “I’m sure I have some somewhere, but could you find anything in here? I dare you to try.”

  She turned to Dan. “And he calls himself a policeman.”

  She pulled off the cellophane and slid a cigarette between her lips. Pfeiffer leaned in and lit it for her. The gesture was oddly intimate. She inhaled and sat back, then exhaling slowly as she regarded Dan. She seemed more than a little drunk.

  “It was his choice, you know. I would never have wanted him to take on such a career. He could have been anything. Anything at all. But he chose law enforcement.”

  Pfeiffer scowled. “What’s wrong with law enforcement?”

  She sighed heavily. “Just like your father. I suppose

  I shouldn’t be surprised. You were always happiest bossing people around and telling everyone what to do.”

  Pfeiffer beamed. “That’s because I’m good at it.”

  “Did you get that promotion yet?” she demanded.

  He frowned. “I told you I got it last year.”

  “Ah, yes. You did. I forgot.” She stared at him. “Offer your friend a drink.”

  “We’re not staying.”

  She gave Dan the kind of look he was used to getting from desperate men in bars at closing time.

  “I would hate for him to go back to Mr. Jags Rohmer and say he didn’t receive adequate hospitality from me on his arrival.”

  Dan smiled. “I won’t say anything of the kind.”

  “Have whatever you like,” she said, waving imperiously at a bar in the far corner. “We have the best of everything. My son can vouch for that.”

  Pfeiffer shook his head at Dan.

  Marilyn looked over at her son. “I left something for you in the dining room on the table.”

  “What?”

  “Go and see.” She shooed him with her hand.

  When he was gone, she turned to Dan, focusing on him with careful gravity.

  She gestured in the direction her son had gone.

  “I sent him to UCC, you know. He was a good student.

  Not the best, but still, he could have been anything he wanted.”

  Dan wondered if that last comment were true. Pfeiffer hadn’t struck him as the intellectual type. He was familiar with the boys at Upper Canada College. He’d even dated a couple. Snotty and privileged, they kept to their own when they weren’t slumming it.

  He had no time for that set.

  “I understand your son is highly regarded in the force, Marilyn. I’m sure he’ll make something of himself.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yes, but is he happy?”

  “Reasonably, I’m sure,” Dan said, not wanting to give her grounds for an argument, either way.

  “‘Reasonably,’” she repeated with a look of disdain. “I guess that’s all any of us are entitled to, a reasonable amount of happiness.”

  She stared off into the distance. Dan was beginning to think she’d forgotten him or perhaps had dismissed him. That was when he saw it: the amphetamine glare behind the eyes. The dreamy distance on a long,

  empty road.

  She spoke again. “I was a bad mother. I suppose I can’t expect much in return.”

  Dan said nothing.

  She looked over at him. “What has Jags said?”

  Dan looked confusedly at her. “I’m sorry?”

  She stared. “About me. What has he said about me?”

  “Ah.” He took his cue. “I never discuss his private life with him.”

  “Then you don’t know him.” She looked scornfully away. “Well, he will talk to you about me eventually. Don’t listen to a word he says. I’m warning you now, it’s all bullshit.”

  The word seemed oddly harsh coming from her.

  “I’m sure he won’t be unkind,” Dan said, wishing Pfeiffer would hurry so they could leave. “He never speaks ill of anyone, to tell the truth.”

  “Really?” She seemed disappointed. “How shocking.”

  Pfeiffer came suddenly back into the room. “There’s nothing on the table,” he said.

  “No?” Marilyn didn’t bother to look surprised. “Well, never mind. I just needed to talk to your friend for a moment.” She turned her gaze on Dan again. “And we had such a nice conversation, didn’t we?”

  Dan bowed his head slightly. “Yes, indeed we did.”

  “‘Yes, indeed we did,’” she repeated in a mocking tone.

  Pfeiffer looked at her sharply. “We’ve got to go, Mother.”

  “Well, thank you for stopping by. I won’t get up.”

  “Good to meet you, Marilyn,” Dan said, turning.

  “Goodbye then.”

  Pfeiffer kissed her on the cheek. He followed Dan to the door. The dog kept its distance, watching warily as they left.

  Outside in the car, Pfeiffer turned to him. “What did you think of her?” he asked like an overeager child.

  �
�She’s a very attractive woman,” Dan replied, hoping it would suffice for an answer.

  “People always say that,” Pfeiffer said in a way that suggested he expected everyone to be impressed.

  “I’m not surprised,” Dan said.

  “What did she say to you while I was out of the room?”

  “She asked if you were happy.”

  “She always asks if I’m happy.”

  “She’s your mother, so she would be concerned.”

  “I’m very good to her,” Pfeiffer said petulantly, as though someone had suggested otherwise.

  “I’m sure she appreciates what you do for her,” Dan said. “After all, you came running to bring her cigarettes at midnight …”

  “I didn’t run,” Pfeiffer cut in tersely. “I never run. And I asked if you would mind going with me first.”

  “Yes, no argument about that.”

  “She didn’t show you the album cover?”

  “Jags’ album? No. Did she date him long?”

  Pfeiffer turned to him. He seemed to be studying Dan’s face. “Long enough. We were kind of family for a while. We used to go to church sometimes. We’d take the host together.” He looked over. “Are you Catholic? Do you know what the host is?”

  “I’m not Catholic. I know what the host is.” He thought about it for a moment, recalling his odd dream. “Jags was religious?”

  “Sure.” Pfeiffer shrugged. “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Nothing. It just doesn’t jive with the Jags I know. People change, of course.”

  Pfeiffer turned the key and backed out of the drive. “I’ll take you to your car.”

  “You know where it is?”

  Pfeiffer smirked. “Sure. I had it towed just a few streets over from where I picked you up.”

  With the lights flashing, it took fifteen minutes to get back across town. As they approached the empty warehouse, Pfeiffer swerved down a narrow back alley, emerging onto a street hosting a handful of forlorn houses and a drab row of container buildings. Dan’s car sat beneath a streetlamp.

  As Dan got out, Pfeiffer rolled down his window.

  “Thanks for coming with me.”

  “We’ll have to do it again some time.”

  Pfeiffer laughed again. Dan felt as though he’d just made friends with a wild animal. Feral. Instinctive. He just wasn’t sure what to do about it.

  “Tell your friends I’m hoping to hear something from them about Gaetan Bélanger very soon,” Pfeiffer said.

  The car roared off.

  Twenty

  Fries With That

  Dan got into his car and watched as Pfeiffer’s taillights disappeared around a corner, leaving two red streaks on the wet pavement. He checked the time. He’d been gone more than an hour and a half.

  He sat and waited another five minutes then drove slowly around the block, circling the warehouse twice till he was sure he was alone. He turned into an abandoned garage and shut off the engine. From there, he had a full view of the street. Not a single car went by. The rain had stopped. A silvery moon hung in the sky, obscured by a wisp of cloud that made it glow with a jazzy veil.

  Finally, convinced no one was watching, he stepped out of the car and walked back to the warehouse where he’d met Germ earlier. The camera whirred overhead, focusing on his face.

  A speakerphone crackled. “Of all the gin joints in all the world, and he walks into mine.”

  Dan smiled. “All clear. Sorry it took a while.”

  “So we caught the rat in our little trap?”

  “We did. It was the one I thought it would be.”

  “Cool. What did you tell him?”

  “Exactly as we agreed. The police think this is your little hideout. No doubt they’ll be back to talk shop soon.”

  Germ laughed.

  “Well, let them. I won’t be there. I’ll lose this camera after tonight. We’ll have to devise another method of contact in future.”

  There was a pause and the speaker crackled again.

  “Do you think they’ll be angry with you?” Germ asked.

  “No doubt, once they realize I fooled them. I’ll deal with that when the time comes.”

  “Very good. I’ll be in touch.”

  “Until we meet again, Agent Germ.”

  “Auf wiedersehen, dude.”

  The line went dead. The camera’s movements stopped. Dan was left standing alone in the middle of a desolate neighbourhood.

  The excitement had left him hungry. He headed over to the burger place on Lansdowne. No one was following. He went in and ordered a killer meal — double cheeseburger, fries with gravy — but forwent the shake. He was nearing forty, after all. One day it would all catch up. Until then, he still had a thirty-three-inch waist and there were a few more indulgences to be had.

  Making his way to a free booth, he skirted the rowdy teenagers looking for a place to belong. Most of them were underage. It was an unlicensed establishment. The ones who were alone chatted on cellphones; the ones with friends chatted with each other between cellphone conversations. Dan found them all annoying, but not unbearable. He’d had worse company in his day.

  It seemed like a night to get comfy with the phone, but first he set his tray on the table and popped a gravy-covered fry in his mouth. They were the wide-cut fries, chunky and fresh, never frozen. He could practically hear the advertising jingle. His taste buds were geared for ecstasy. He quickly unwrapped his burger and bit into it, devouring a quarter of it in a single bite. The lettuce stayed firm under the bun, rather than spilling out the sides the way it did at fast food places. This was a good burger. He sighed and chewed contentedly. Life had its gratifying little moments.

  He licked his fingers clean then pulled out his cell. It was his own this time, not Ked’s. He didn’t care who intercepted this particular call. In fact, he’d be glad if the news got around about what had happened to him that evening.

  “Ed Burch.”

  “Hi, Ed. Dan Sharp here.”

  He could imagine his ex-boss’s inquisitive mind digging for the reason for his call. Whenever someone calls it’s always for a reason, even if they just say “hi.” Remember that, Daniel, Ed used to say. A stater of the obvious Ed was, but sometimes the obvious was precisely what got overlooked.

  “Hey, Daniel. Good to hear from you. A little late for a social call, isn’t it?”

  “Apologies. This is something I’d rather not leave till tomorrow.”

  “Not a problem. Hit me.”

  “I’m calling about your friends at the police.”

  “Oh?”

  “They’re getting a bit invasive for my liking.”

  There was an uncomfortable silence on the other end. Dan managed to get two more fries into his mouth before Ed spoke.

  “How so?”

  “They’ve been tapping my phone line.”

  Dan heard a breath drawn between clenched teeth.

  “I’m sorry …”

  “I got picked up tonight by one of the officers on the Bélanger case. It was an unofficial visit in an unmarked car as I was leaving one of my sources.”

  “Good God! Any trouble?”

  “Depends how you define ‘trouble.’”

  He reached for the ketchup bottle. The fries were just begging to be turned into poutine. He aimed and squirted. The ketchup cut a bright red swath across his tray, barely missing his sleeve. Sometimes he suspected he just bought the hamburgers as an excuse to eat the fries. All right, admit it — he did buy the burgers as an excuse to eat the fries.

  “I was parked legally, but when I came out my car had been towed. Next thing I knew, Constable Pfeiffer pulled up beside me and invited me for a ride. All very Mafia-like, except the ride didn’t end with me being outfitted in a pair of cement shoes.”

  Ed groaned. “Danny, I’m sorry. If I’d known they were going to do this, I’d never have brought up your name.”

  Dan believed him. His former boss wouldn’t have set him up.

>   “Actually,” Ed continued, “I’m not surprised to hear it was Pfeiffer. I don’t think anyone else would have the nerve to do something like that.”

  “Not Danes?”

  “Danes is mostly a bubble-head in my books. The chief likes him because he’s stupid and loyal. I doubt he could be that devious unless prompted.”

  “So you think that this was likely unsanctioned by the force?”

  “Hard to say what’s unsanctioned and what’s unofficially sanctioned but just overlooked, if you catch my meaning. This case is number one on the chief’s agenda since the Star article appeared. That made him squirm a bit, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

  “No doubt,” Dan said. “And I wouldn’t be surprised if Pfeiffer had something to do with that piece of journalism.”

  “Really?”

  “He was hinting at it, though he didn’t come out and say anything directly.”

  Ed paused. “The word on the street is that Pfeiffer gets his best results from being a rogue cop. Even though he’s a junior, nobody wants to stop him from doing his thing as long as he gets results. That way, it’s not on the chief’s head and no one complains publicly.”

  “Where does he get his balls? Actually, never mind. I met his mother tonight, so I think I know.”

  Ed guffawed. “You what?”

  “In the middle of our little talk, his cellphone rang and he had to go deliver cigarettes to Cabbagetown.”

  “Unbelievable.”

  “I’ll say.”

  There was a pause.

  “Be careful with him, Dan.”

  “You know me, Ed. I’m naturally wary.”

  Ed was silent again. “No, I mean be especially careful. He’s got a reputation for being a troublemaker. He’s a hard-nose. He was involved in a brutality lawsuit, but it didn’t stick. Rumour has it his last promotion came about because of some evidence he got from a suspect that no one else could crack. Officially, the chief didn’t know about it. Unofficially, who’s to say? Pfeiffer was left alone with the guy for fifteen minutes and came out of the room with what he needed to know. My guess is he’s not above resorting to threats or even violence to get what he wants.”

  Dan thought of Pfeiffer’s prying questions about his family. “I’m not surprised,” he said.