by Jude Pittman
"No need to get upset." Jesse kept his voice low to soothe the agitated man. "Alex just wanted me to clear this up before I took the check to the cops. They'll want to verify your story, of course. But the fact that Shannon called you and you mailed the check will make a difference."
"Why?" Parker snapped.
"Because of the circumstances. If you'd been in Vancouver and had personal contact with Shannon they'd want to know the details. The fact that there's been a lot of friction between you and Shannon and now she's been murdered would raise some questions."
"I didn't say I mailed the check," Parker muttered.
"So you did see Shannon in Vancouver."
"I didn't say that either. But yeah. I saw her. So what?"
"I guess that depends on when you saw her and under what circumstances. You didn't, for instance, see her last Wednesday. That would be the day she disappeared?"
"No I didn't." Parker scowled and fixed Jesse with a mean glare. I was there a couple weeks ago, and I haven't been back."
"Why don't you tell me what happened? I can't promise anything, but if you're telling the truth about not being in Vancouver when Shannon was murdered, and I can verify that to the cops they'll likely be satisfied."
"You think?"
"It's possible. Now about your meeting with Shannon. How did that come about?"
"Like I said, she called me and said she needed money."
"Was your wife aware of Shannon's call?"
"No. It's complicated. Shannon wasn't exactly the kind of girl my wife believed her to be."
"How's that?"
"To put it blunt, she was a hooker."
"And you gave her money professionally?"
"What the fuck are you implying?" Parker's face flushed an even deeper shade of red and he bunched his hands into fists.
"Calm down." Jesse spread his arms and shook his head. "I wasn't implying anything. I was asking—same as the cops will when they hear your story. You claim Shannon sold sex as a profession. So logically I need to know, did you or did you not seek out her professional services?"
"Sounds like shit when you say it that way," Parker muttered. "Look. I admit the kid kind of got to me and I struggled with it a bit, but no, I did not see her in the course of her profession. Is that straight enough for you?"
"Perfectly. And the money you gave her?"
"She claimed she wanted to get out of the lifestyle. Said she'd gotten herself clean—she'd been smoking crack—the money was the first installment on tuition for hairdressing school. I told her if she enrolled and got herself a part time job, I'd give her the rest."
"Did you tell your wife about this arrangement?"
"No I didn't. I knew Shannon might be stringing me. So I figured I'd wait until she enrolled in the program and then if she played straight and got a job I'd tell my wife."
Parker leaned forward and cleared his throat. "My wife was pretty broken up when Shannon took off for the city. I didn't want her to know what the girl had been up to in Vancouver. I figured if Shannon kept her word and started school then I'd surprise Val by taking her over there for a kind of reunion."
"Nice."
"You being sarcastic?"
"No. I mean it. That was a nice thing to do. I'm sure it'll mean a lot to Alex."
"Yeah. Well I'm not a hero, but I'm not a monster either. I didn't want to see that kid throw herself away on the street. I got to get back to my game."
"Sure. Thanks for your help." Jesse said, pushing back his chair and offering his hand. "I know Alex will appreciate your candor."
"You're not going to tell him what Shannon was doing are you?"
"Not if I don't have to. I'll simply tell him the check was a down payment on Shannon's tuition to hairdressing school and leave it at that."
"I don't know if it's any help, but Shannon mentioned some weirdo she'd been seeing. She didn't say who or where, but she did say he was starting to creep her out. I think he was one of the reasons she wanted to change her lifestyle."
"Did she give you any hints about how she knew this guy?"
"Nope. But she said she had a friend who watched her back."
"Any idea who?"
"Sorry. She didn't say. Maybe someone from that place she was staying."
Chapter Seven
"Have they arrested Lyle?" Martine settled into a chair at Jesse's kitchen table and accepted the cup of coffee he handed over.
"No but they're about to. Hanson called last night to tell me their seventy-two hours was up and they've decided to hold him as a material witness."
"Are you still convinced they've got the wrong man?"
"I guess you never know about people," Jesse dipped his head and the long black hair he normally kept tied in a leather thong flowed over his shoulder, "but it still doesn't feel right."
"It makes me mad that Detective Hanson is so set on the killer being Native."
"I don't think he has much choice. As I said earlier, there's a lot of pressure for action on this case. Stanley Park is a major tourist destination and we're right in the middle of the season. The city fathers would very much like to write this off as 'one Indian killing another' and close the books."
"You're not going to let them get away with that are you?"
"Nope. And to be honest, neither will Hanson. I could tell during our conversation that he's not sold on his theory. He just doesn't have anything else."
"What is his theory?"
"Same old stuff. Supposedly Miller got caught up in some kind of uncontrollable passion that resulted in a murder."
"Did you tell him what you found out from Shannon's foster dad?"
"Yes, and he asked me to keep digging. For now, they're holding Lyle, but Hanson's a long way from being sold on him as the killer. Besides I've been thinking over my conversation with Parker, and I have an idea."
Martine took a sip from her coffee and set the cup down on the table. "What?" She gave him one of those looks.
"Remember Amy, over at Evergreen House?"
"The one who told you about Shannon's date with Lyle."
"That's right. According to Ed Parker, Shannon was worried about someone."
Martine frowned. "Worried. How?"
"She told Parker this guy she knew was starting to creep her out."
"Do you think it was her boyfriend? He's a bit on the creepy side."
"Maybe, but that's not the impression I got from Amy."
"Maybe one of her John's. If the prostitution story Parker told you is true."
"Could be, anyway, Parker said Shannon had someone watching her back in case anyone got weird."
"And you think Amy might be that someone."
Jesse shifted his long legs out from under the table. "Makes sense," he said, getting to his feet and picking up his coffee cup. "I'll just take the chill off this. Want more?"
Martine held up her cup. "Half is good."
Cups refilled, Jesse settled back at the table. "When I talked to Amy I sensed that she was holding back. After what Parker told me I'm betting it has something to do with whoever was creeping Shannon out."
Martine nodded. "If you're right, it must be someone Amy knows."
"How do you figure that?"
"Don't you remember being a kid? We had our own code for everything. These kids have codes. It's one of those things that seems complicated to adults but makes perfect sense to kids."
"My childhood might have lacked a bit," Jesse admitted. "Let's just say I was a loner."
Martine's smile warmed Jesse's heart – and his nether region as well.
"According to their code, it would be all right for Amy to tell you about Lyle because he's a stranger. But, if Shannon was having trouble with a boyfriend that would come under a completely different set of rules."
"Sounds feasible. How about coming with me over to Evergreen House. If she has any secrets Amy's more likely to trust you than a guy she sees as a cop."
"Of course." Martine put down her cup and
stood. "I'll run over to my place for a few minutes. I need to call the office and speak to my assistant then I'm all yours."
"Don't tempt me." Jesse leered, and Martine gave him a mock scowl before grabbing her sweater and heading out the door.
* * *
Half an hour later, Jesse pulled into the driveway of Evergreen House, switched off the ignition and turned to Martine. "I'll lead the way since I've already met everyone, but, if Amy seems to be holding back, maybe you'll think of something to loosen her tongue."
"I can try." Martine hopped out of the Jeep and followed Jesse up the front steps.
"Hello Mrs. Lawrence." Martine stepped forward so the woman could easily recognize her through the screen door. "It's nice to see you again. Although, I wish it was under pleasanter circumstances.
"Hello Ms. LaChance and Mr. Dancer." The thin gray-haired woman established recognition and pushed open the door.
"Come in," she said. "Do you have word on Amy?"
Jesse frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Oh. I thought maybe you'd heard something from missing persons. Amy's been gone since yesterday afternoon. I called the police but they said they couldn't do anything until twenty-four hours had passed."
"I'll give Hanson a call," Jesse said, indicating that Martine should follow Mrs. Lawrence inside while he stayed out and used his cell phone.
"Did you find out anything?" Martine asked minutes later after she'd reassured Mrs. Lawrence that they'd do everything they could, then returned to join Jesse in the jeep.
"He's got an APB out now." Jesse merged the truck into traffic. "Hanson was mad as hell when I told him the report had been called in last night. But what can he do, it's just too bad nobody in missing persons made the connection to Evergreen House."
"Understandable though, when you consider how many runaways there are in a city this size."
"Damn bad timing," Jesse cursed. "I get a daily report of kids who make the missing persons list, but Amy hasn't been gone long enough."
"I know how you feel." Martine's face registered the pain of her thoughts. "I hate saying this, but if my suspicions are correct and we're dealing with a psychopath, it's probably too late for Amy."
Jesse slapped his hand against the steering wheel in a gesture of helplessness. "Do you think there's a chance she dropped out of sight on purpose?"
Martine shook her head. "I can't see it. Amy is one of those kids that lives on the fringe of other girls' lives. I think any involvement with whatever secret Shannon was keeping was innocent on Amy's part."
Jesse pulled into the parking stall behind the condo and stopped the truck. Then, with his hand on the door handle, he turned to Martine. "I hate it, but you're probably right."
Chapter Eight
Jesse wanted to pay a visit to the Java Hut to see if he could expand any on Martine's findings.
Might as well make a clean sweep of it, he told himself, starting at the park and working his way up the length of Commercial Drive. His first stop, a small café, yielded little reward.
"Do you remember seeing this girl?" He took Shannon's picture out of his pocket, holding it out to the Chinese woman behind the counter.
"Not see." She shook her head positively.
"Okay, thanks." Jesse pocketed the picture. He continued down the street trying two more small coffee shops and a deli with no luck. Then, at Guido's Pasta House, the waitress turned out to be a pleasant surprise. He stepped inside and watched the middle-aged woman pull a towel out of her waistband and wipe down two tables in succession.
"You wouldn't happen to recognize this girl." Jesse walked up beside her and held out Shannon's picture.
"What about her?" The tall bony woman flicked a strand of limp brown hair off her forehead and scowled at Jesse.
"Her brother asked me to help him find out if anyone remembers seeing her last Wednesday," Jesse said, sticking to the truth but holding back the real reason for his questions.
Intelligence flashed in her eyes. She stared at Jesse for several seconds before making a decision. "I hope the brother has better sense than the sister."
"She was here?"
"Yes. She came in about four o'clock Tuesday afternoon. She was with one of those freaks with green hair."
Jesse nodded encouragement. "What can you tell me about them?"
"Not much. We have our early dinner special on Wednesday and the crowd is mostly regulars."
"Had you ever seen either of them before?"
"No they were strangers. That's what caught my attention—that and his green hair."
"But you're sure they were here between three and four."
"Positive. Now what's this really about?"
Jesse made a split second decision that the truth offered his best chance of getting her cooperation.
"Like I told you, I'm working for her brother. But what I haven't told you is that this girl— Shannon Perrault—Jesse held up the picture again, "was murdered Wednesday night."
"So. You're looking for the boy with green hair?"
"The boy is definitely of interest, but I'd also like to talk to anyone who might have spoken with Shannon. Yourself, for instance. Did you have occasion to speak with her, or, did you overhear any conversation?
The waitress shook her head. "It's like I said, the boy did all the talking. They ordered, they ate, he paid and they left. That's it."
"I'll need to turn this information over to Detective Hanson—he's the homicide officer handling the case—likely he'll be in touch. Do you mind telling me your name?"
"It's Nora, and I'll tell him same as I told you," she said, pulling the towel back out of her waistband. "Now if that's all, I've got tables waiting."
"Of course." Jesse smiled and held out his hand, for her perfunctory shake. "I appreciate your time."
In the next block, Jesse approached the Java Hut. Stopping inside the door, he spotted a group of young people seated along the coffee bar.
"Nice place," he said, speaking to a tall lanky boy with carrot red hair.
"Thanks. We like it." The youth responded. "Care for coffee?"
"Sure I'll have a tall latte."
While waiting for the coffee, Jesse reached in his inside pocket and removed Shannon's picture. "Thanks," he said, when the boy handed over the coffee. "Would you mind taking a look at this picture?" He set the coffee cup beside him on the counter and held out the photo.
"What's she done?" The boy asked, suspicion clouding his eyes.
"Got herself killed." Jesse swiveled his head to watch the reaction along the counter.
A skinny black haired girl with pierced eyebrows approached Jesse's end of the counter and peered over his shoulder. "That's Shannon." The girl whispered.
"What's your name?" Jesse turned to face the girl.
"Lisa."
"Hi Lisa. Did you know Shannon?"
"Not really. I just recognize her from working on the project."
"Project?"
"We're part of a group working to save the rainforests and natural terrain in Clayoquot Sound. Shannon was one of our volunteers." The girl twisted several strands of long black hair between her fingers. Her eyes darted from Jesse's face to his feet as she nervously answered his questions.
"Did you know Shannon's boyfriend?"
"Les. He's not really her boyfriend. They just hung around for awhile. Anyway they broke up last week."
Jesse nodded and smiled to break the tension.
"I appreciate your help Lisa. Shannon's brother asked me to see if I could find Les. Apparently he doesn't know about Shannon and Alex wanted me to tell him—I'm sure he'd like to know."
Lisa's deep brown eyes, heavily outlined in black kohl, fixed on Jesse's face as if memorizing his look. "I'm sure Les didn't know anything about Shannon," she said. "He came in here yesterday morning, all excited. He said he'd come into some money and was taking off on a mission."
Jesse lifted his brows and frowned. "Any idea what kind of a mission?"
/> Lisa shook her head. "He wouldn't say. Les liked to act mysterious. Most of us figured Mr. Guthrie had given him a special assignment."
"Mr. Guthrie?"
"Eugene Guthrie. He's our leader." Lisa's eyes lit up when she spoke. "If it wasn't for Mr. Guthrie, Vancouver Island's rainforest would already have been destroyed by the corporate pirates."
"Sounds like an impressive leader. I bet Mr. Guthrie could help me with my investigation. Do you happen to know where I might find him?"
Lisa frowned. "He's a lawyer. Maybe you could call at his office. His number's in the phone book. I'll get it." She ran down the bar to a stack of books on the end, grabbed a ragged looking phone book and laid it down on the counter in front of Jesse. "His office is downtown somewhere." She thumbed through pages.
"Thanks. I appreciate that." Jesse took a card out of his pocket. "My contact numbers are on this card. If you see Les or think of anything else, I'd appreciate a call."
"Okay." She pushed the phone book in front of Jesse. "Here's the number." She held her finger over the name Guthrie & Associates.
"You've been very helpful." Jesse made a note of the address. "Thank you."
* * *
Outside, Jesse flagged a taxi and requested the Pacific Centre on Georgia. Settling back on the seat, he considered his approach to the lawyer.
Probably won't see me without an appointment but at least I can scope out his office and schedule a time for later.
The Pacific Centre's soaring glass entrance opened into a lobby with access to several multi-storied office towers and an underground shopping center. The complex, in the center of Vancouver's financial district, consisted of ten banks of elevators with individual offices identified by an electronic directory. Jesse skimmed the alpha list of names, found Guthrie & Associates on the 12th floor of the south tower and proceeded to the first bank left. On the 12th floor he followed a black and white tiled hallway until a double glass door displaying the name Guthrie & Associates in heavy black script identified his quarry.
"Hi, I'd like to see Eugene Guthrie," he said to the tall thin, redhead who peered at him through a pair of gold-rimmed glasses.
