by Rene Natan
He turned around and parked the unmarked car in front of the restaurant, semi-empty at that time of morning. He entered the building and approached the reception desk.
A beautiful blond woman smiled at him and said, “Good morning, sir. Here for breakfast or for renting a cottage?”
“Oh, ah, well…actually both. I mean, I’d like to have breakfast but also information on…” He stopped. He really couldn’t ask what there was behind or on the side of the building. After all, he was on a covert mission. “…about the cottages. Any free for the upcoming weekend?”
The woman, dressed in a black décolleté outfit, gave him a brochure. “Here’s the information about our fantastic cottages and the activities of our resort center. The prices are included, and yes, we do have two cottages available. I’d hurry if I were you. They rent out fast.” She gave him another brochure and added, “You can find the specials of the day for breakfast. There’s also service a la carte.” She smiled again and pointed in front of her. “Enjoy your meal.”
Primo thanked her and walked to the restaurant. Big windows bordered the side from which Louis has disappeared. If he was lucky, he’d see him coming back.
He’d just made a few steps toward a table when his cell rang. He listened attentively. A shooting had taken place in a plaza on Wellington Street. He should drive over there immediately.
***
Louis hid his Guzzi behind a boulder, and crept toward the girls’ living quarters. He approached the back of the building and put his ear against the heavy double-lock door. There were voices, actually one person did most of the talking, but he couldn’t grasp the meaning of the words. He wondered whether The Frog had arrived and organized the girls’ schedules. If so, he wouldn’t have a chance to give the key to Selina. He inched toward the cottages that Camilo reserved for the whorehouse guests, still keeping out of sight. Louis was well aware of The Tranquility Resort habits. A guard usually patrolled the units every half hour, taking a tour around each of them, listening to the sounds coming from the cottages, ready to intervene at the first sign of a disturbance. He took his place behind the trunk of a pine tree, watched, and listened. Once he was sure there was no guard on patrol, he approached each of the units. No sound, no movement of any sort. Nobody inside; Camilo’s business was at a standstill, Louis thought with satisfaction. He retraced his steps and flanked the lateral wall of the building where he’d heard voices until he reached the front edge. A guard was pacing back and forth; fortunately, at that moment he turned his back to Louis.
He’d stick around and see if the girls were allowed outside. Louis looked for a hiding place that would allow him to glance at the front of the building. He found a dwarf pine tree, crouched, and waited.
The sun rose, without a cloud in the sky. Unfortunately, it was below zero, Louis realized. He couldn’t move, and his running shoes offered little protection against the cold. Finally, the front door of the building opened, and a tall woman marched out.
She locked the door behind her and stopped in front of the guard. “Nobody, I say nobody, gets out today. The girls talked back to me. I won’t tolerate it.”
She took a few steps away from the building and then turned around to face the guard again. “If you don’t obey my order, I’ll get you fired.” And with that, she took off for what Louis knew was the parking lot reserved for the staff.
Louis left his hideout and walked to the back of the building, hoping to pull the same stunt he’d managed to do a few days before. To his great disappointment, a digital-combination lock had been placed on top of the deadbolt. Camilo wasn’t taking any chances.
Due to the current circumstances, there wasn’t much he could do.
Louis retrieved his vintage Guzzi and headed for the garage in Lobo. The owner had promised to give him the motorcycle in exchange for a full week of work.
***
Gordon Stevenson tossed the letter he’d received from his wife to the floor. There were only a few lines. Marta had made her decision. She’d remain in Nova Scotia. With her parents she felt secure; life was simple, as each day was similar to the next. Gordon sighed. He couldn’t believe that his marriage was over.
Their union had started in such a wonderful way. He’d been camping with friends near Glace Bay in Nova Scotia, when they decided to go into town and celebrate the last evening of their vacation. They heard music coming from a restaurant near the beach and quickly entered to see what the action was all about. Food was served, but that wasn’t the main attraction. A local band played fast beats, and young people followed the rhythm with frantic moves. The dance floor, delineated by colorful light fixtures strung together, was nothing but an expanse of concrete that extended toward the water. Gordon and his friends joined the crowd, and in no time blond, slim Marta began dancing in front of him. When a slow rhythm played, they danced together, exchanging looks and smiles. His friends left just after midnight, but he stayed and spent the rest of the night with sweet Marta, sipping lemonade and munching on a basket of fish and chips. He’d left the day after, but returned the following summer, as the memory of Marta’s smile, green eyes, and long slim legs had persisted in his mind for a full year. He didn’t do much fishing then, as he spent most of his holiday with Marta and her family. One night, after a long swim in the ocean, they sat on the swing outside the porch of Marta’s house, watching the stars and talking about the nothings of life.
After two years of college, Gordon had decided to change careers and enrolled in the Police Academy in Aylmer. He wondered whether Marta would like to be the wife of a police officer. He asked her, and her answer was quick and to the point. “I’d love to be your wife, no matter what job you’d have.”
They married the year after, and the first five years of their marriage had been the happiest of his life. Then things started to go wrong, as Marta was unable to complete a pregnancy. Because of that, she felt less of a woman, and no counseling had managed to convince her otherwise.
Gordon picked up the letter he’d tossed to the floor and continued reading it. Marta would agree to a separation and, if he insisted, she’d grant him the divorce. Gordon deposited the letter on the coffee table and looked around the family room with a critical eye. The house would never be the same without Marta. He should go see her and propose to sell it.
Maybe it was time to make a new start.
***
Gordon stayed in Moncton two full days, at the end of which he and his wife reached an agreement on the sale of the house and the financial support he was going to pay her for the number of years they’d been married. Their lawyers would meet next week and draft the final document. When he returned to London, Stevenson believed the uncertainty that had clouded his life for five years had been dissolved. There was a tomorrow for him, and he hoped it’d bring happiness.
Still off work for another day, he went to Home Hardware and bought a “For Sale” sign. He placed it in a spot where it was visible from the road and entered his house. Curious to know if Jocelyn had managed to gather more information regarding Louis, he called her.
“Nothing of substance,” Jocelyn replied, with disappointment. “He’s still with Miriam Danton on Waterloo. Miriam left a message with your office.” Jocelyn paused. “Were you away?”
“Yes.” Gordon didn’t know whether he should tell Jocelyn the separation from his wife was final. “I went to see my wife to discuss the sale of our house.”
“Oh, I see. Your office may know more about Louis than I do. I’ve been very busy at work. Two of my people were sick.”
“Sorry to hear that. Well, if Miriam discovers anything of substance, let me know. I have a hunch Louis has witnessed something important; something linked to that girl’s death.”
“At the end of the week, I’ll get some free time, to compensate for the extra hours. Maybe I can spend some time with Miriam and see what we can come up with.”
“That would be great. Thank you, Jocelyn,” Gordon said and clicked off.
Tomorrow, he’d find out if headquarters had managed to identify the dead girl or the woman who’d taken her to the hospital. If not, he’d conclude that Louis was the only key to the problem, and go after him--even if had to follow him to the Yukon.
With that resolution, he went to bed.
The following morning, he woke up well rested, and went to the office, charged with fresh energy.
When he entered the Investigative Response Unit, Nick Primo was already at his desk. He immediately rose and reported the aborted pursuit of Louis at The Tranquility Resort. He’d also found out the property around the resort area belonged to Camilo Estorbar. He’d contacted the RMCP to gather more information on Estorbar’s activities.
Stevenson listened carefully to what Primo had to say, glad to see the young officer had taken the initiative on his own while he was away. “Good work, Nick. Let me check if Louis is still living on Waterloo Street. If so, tomorrow you’ll be following him. We should find out what is going on at the resort, something so important Louis drove there at the risk of getting hurt.”
Fourteen
Jocelyn had mixed feelings about helping Gordon track down Louis’ whereabouts. She should avoid getting involved any further. It had taken her a long time to come to terms with what had happened. She’d buried herself in the tundra of the far north to find peace and solace, and only a few years ago managed to conduct a normal life. She’d let her desire to help Louis prevail, and kept in close contact with Miriam Danton—a person who reminded her how terrible things can happen.
In the midst of her thoughts, Gordon called, told her following Louis hadn’t led them to any new discovery. The young man had gone to a garage in Lobo for four days straight and worked on old vehicles until dark. The report from Miriam was also without any important news. Louis had gone out after supper only to walk the two dogs, and returned home before nine o’clock. Then Gordon asked her if she’d like to join him for supper.
As she was getting dressed for the evening, Jocelyn started to regret accepting Gordon’s invitation. He was married, and that had made her free to joke about sex and flirt with him. But now, an evening alone with him? It wasn’t wise—she should have known better. She opened her closet and looked at her wardrobe. Not much to choose from, she realized. There were two nice dresses, bought for the wedding of two co-workers. Too fancy, she decided, and opted for a navy pantsuit of light fabric. Soon after, the bell rang, and Gordon appeared on the threshold of her condo, dressed in a gray suit, white shirt and a striped red-and-gray tie.
“Wow!” said Jocelyn, “Who do you expect? A movie star?”
Gordon cocked his head left and right. “Somebody beautiful like a movie star, but also a woman of substance.”
“Oh, that was a nice compliment.” She grabbed her little black purse and locked the door behind her. “Did they give you a raise?”
“Not a chance.”
“So, what’s the occasion?”
“Nothing in particular—just the need for good company and good food.”
“Oh, so, where are we going?”
“Your choice,” said Gordon.
“Oscar’s Steak House?” She moved quickly to Gordon’s car and climbed in, without waiting for her date to open the door.
Gordon rounded the car and began driving. “Good choice. I’d like to ask you a favor.”
They were silent for a while, as Gordon skillfully extricated his car from the traffic, then Jocelyn asked, “What kind of favor?”
“I’d like you to keep an eye on Louis through your friend, Miriam. We didn’t make one step forward with the identification of the dead girl or the woman who took her into the hospital. We’ll be getting more information on the fellow who went after Louis. At the moment, all we know is that he’s a Canadian citizen and a businessman who pays a hefty amount of taxes. Nothing to hang on him so far.”
“I see.” They arrived at the restaurant, and Gordon parked close by. He took Jocelyn by the arm, and they entered the steak house.
The hostess glided toward them and guided them to a table. “The waiter will be right with you,” she said in a sweet yet impersonal voice, and set a couple of menus in front of them.
For a moment they were both busy looking at the abundant choices of dishes and spirits. “Aperitif, wine?” Gordon asked.
“Just wine for me. I go for a steak, so red will be nice.”
“I’m going for a steak, too.” He glanced at the wine list. “Cabernet?”
Jocelyn nodded. “Perfect. A lot of flavor and full body.”
They deposited their menus on the table and soon ordered their entrees.
“You’re strangely quiet,” Gordon said as he tackled his garden salad. “Everything okay at the hospital?”
“Yeah. Plenty of work, so fairly normal.”
For a while they spoke about the weather, the increasing crime in the city, and the inadequacy of the health care system. After the main course was served, the conversation became scant, limited to trivial comments on the food.
“So, would you help me?” Gordon finally asked. “I’m going to give you another reason to be nice to me.” He smiled, showing white teeth. “I’m unattached, as of last weekend.”
Jocelyn didn’t have a clue he had marriage troubles. Ohmygod, does the man consider me a possible replacement? When he’d appeared at her door all dressed up, she thought he might have a fling in mind. Now it could be something serious. She had no choice but to turn on her joking side. “I should be on guard then. You’re dangerous.”
Gordon laughed. “Not really.”
“Oh, yes, I know want you want.”
“I’m sure you do.” Gordon sipped his wine and asked, “Why do you think I can be dangerous? In which way?”
Jocelyn avoided looking in his eyes. “All men are, in a way.”
“Oh, that’s news to me. Which way?”
“They want sex, and then more sex.”
Gordon laughed again. “Nothing wrong with that, if the woman feels the same.”
Ohmygod, that’s what he thinks of me, Jocelyn thought. It’s my fault. To cover up my feelings and my past, I played the liberated woman. This is the result. She pushed away her semi-full dish. She took a swig of wine to gain time. She’d change the subject and see if Gordon went along with it. “So you’d like me to talk to Miriam and see if she can wheedle more information out of Louis?”
Gordon refilled their glasses. “Yes, that’s precisely what I had in mind. At the moment, Louis is busy repairing old autos and any kind of engines. He’s pretty good at it, according to the garage owner. He didn’t go back to The Tranquility Resort after my constable chased him. I don’t think he knows he’s under surveillance. He probably just wants to make some money. His idea of clearing out may be on the back burner, but not for long.” He paused and addressed the waiter as they both declined dessert. “It’s essential we get all he knows before he disappears.” He finished his wine and dabbed his lips with the colorful napkin. “Do you think you can help us out?”
Jocelyn drank all her wine before answering. “I can give it a try. Miriam used to offer aura-reading sessions when she toured with a company, many, many years back. Then she set up shop by herself. She also predicted the future using tarot cards, that sort of thing. I could convince her to play some of her tricks to make Louis open up. She has no license to operate, but it’d be okay if she limits herself to Louis, right?”
“Of course. No problems.”
“Good,” Jocelyn said and rose. “I had a heavy day, Gordon, and I’d like to go home.” She looked for the purse she’d set on the nearby chair. “Thank you for the nice meal.”
Fifteen
Miriam Danton didn’t go to bed that night. The call from Jocelyn, asking her to use her psychic abilities on Louis, had disturbed her profoundly. She wasn’t the cheat she’d been called when she last performed as a medium more than a decade ago. As a girl, she could perceive an aura on people, mainly on those who were
close to a calamity or death. She still remembered the afternoon when she’d rushed home from school knowing that something was wrong. And there was. A tractor had run over her two-year-old pooch. She’d cradled the dog’s bloody remains in her arms, and cried until her parents took the dead pup away from her, washed her up, and sent her to bed. Only two years later she experienced a similar premonition. This time she didn’t wait until school was over. She rushed home and found her mother lying on the floor, breathing in spurts. Mom died in her arms, half an hour later.
One day, she talked about what she’d experienced with her schoolmates, and soon after, the school put her in contact with a counselor. The counselor was very kind, and helped her to overcome the loss of her mother. Yes, that was useful, but every time Miriam tried to bring the subject to what she’d sensed before the two deadly events occurred, the counselor listened, but quickly brought the subject back to her grief. Nothing happened for a while, until one day a six-year-old boy got lost in the fields. A commotion ensued, with the local and neighboring police patrolling the cultivated land, and a TV station filming the countryside where the boy had last been seen. Miriam stood there, a spectator like everybody else. Then tremors took over her body. She closed her eyes and saw the boy lying prone in a corn field. When she reopened her eyes, she screamed, “He’s in a corn field!”
