by Warren Court
“City Hall.”
“Shit,” Temple said, and hung up. He circled the number in his book and wrote “CH” next to it. He shoved the phone back in his pocket, put the car in gear, and pulled back out onto the road.
On his way back downtown, his phone rang.
“John, where you at?” demanded Wozniak. He sounded angry.
Shit, Temple thought. That fucking Sylvia.
“Just heading in, Boss. Need to get my passport. Might go down to the States for a bit,” he said.
“That’s good. We need to see you.”
“Who’s we? Munshin?”
“Yes. Sixth floor, conference room.”
“What am I walking into, pal?”
“Just want to have a word. Come right here. You can get your passport later.”
“Right,” Temple said, and clicked off.
The conference room was darkened, the shades drawn and the lights turned down low. He could barely make out Wozniak and Moonshine sitting at the end of the gleaming oval mahogany table. They had nothing in front of them. Sid Barker, head of the SIU, was seated next to them. Temple walked in, all smiles going to his death. He put his hands up.
“Wow, this looks serious,” he said jokingly.
“It is,” Moonshine said. “Sit down, John.”
Temple looked at Wozniak and was sobered by the look of pure hatred and rage coming back at him. He knows about Sylvia. So was this little confab about impropriety among officers, or about the Nair case?
“Were you not instructed to back off the operation against the motorcycle gang known as the Villains?” Moonshine said without preamble.
“I’m running a case down—the Nairs. All the eyes on it, remember?”
“Were you or were you not instructed to back off?” repeated Moonshine. “Told that you were putting an undercover operation in jeopardy?”
Before Temple could answer, the door to the room opened and in walked Karen Kindness. Great, Temple thought.
“Sorry I’m late I was with the chief and the mayor,” she said, and took a chair next to Barker. She nodded to Moonshine, ignored Wozniak, and then turned her attention to Temple. He saw a confident, satisfied look on her face, and he wanted to leap across the table and throttle it out of her.
“Yes, I was,” Temple said.
Moonshine repeated the question and answer for Kindness. If he was annoyed at her tardiness and grandstanding entrance, he didn’t show it. He’s probably banging her, Temple thought. He knew that she had fucked her way into the deputy chief’s office. God help this city if she went even higher.
“But you haven’t backed off. You’re still pursuing it now?” Moonshine asked.
“Yup,” Temple said. Fuck ’em. “I’m trying to solve the murders of Prajoth and Aruna Nair. Remember you said there were a lot of eyes on it? So I’ve been going after any and all leads as vigorously as I would on any case, regardless of the political consequences.” He looked at Kindness when he said political and she smiled back at him. Temple tried to figure out how they knew he was still going after the case. Was Dalupan, and not Mendoza, the snitch? Marinelli? Then he realized he didn’t care who it was. What did it matter? He was going to be chucked out of homicide for sure.
“You disobeyed an order of mine. You’re under investigation for a shooting involving two of your PCs.”
“The Tsingtao shooting. Right,” Temple said, interrupting him. He was actively participating in this. He always enjoyed when things finally came to a head, when the bullshit tap was turned off. “I’m not under investigation for the Tsingtao shooting. I wasn’t even there.” No one paid attention to his answer.
“…and now, after being told to stop an investigation, you went ahead with it and you have a partner in hospital fighting for his life.”
“I was told he was going to make it. Has something happened? Has he taken a turn for the worse?” Temple said with mock naivety as he scanned all the faces in the room. Barker was not impressed, and Wozniak’s rage was deepening. The real ball-busting was going to come after this meeting, Temple knew. It might involve punches, kicks. Maybe a gunshot or two, Temple thought.
“I want you badge, your gun on the table,” Moonshine said. “You’re suspended without pay until further notice.”
“You want it,” Temple said, and he stood up so fast that his chair fell backwards. “You got it.” He drew his gun fast, like he was going to shoot someone, but he spun it around so the tip of the barrel was pointing at him and then slammed it down on the table and slid it across to Moonshine in one fluid motion. He put his tin on the table and slid the leather wallet across in the same fashion.
“Your car. The keys too,” Moonshine said.
“How am I supposed to get home?”
“GO Train,” Kindness said.
Temple laughed. “Of course.” He took the keys out and tossed them to her, and she caught them easily with one hand. Then he knocked his knuckles on the wooden table and left.
“We’re not finished with you yet,” Kindness said.
“No, I don’t suppose you are,” Temple said, and he wrenched open the doors of the conference room, their piston rods robbing him of a good door slam.
Temple went down to the fifth floor. There were a few guys there and all eyes turned to him as he entered the homicide squad bull pen. They knew what had come his way. He put on a brave but angry face and went to his cubicle. Dalupan was there.
“What’s the word on Mendoza?” he asked. Dalupan looked like he was going to run away.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Dalupan, so I got suspended. Has to happen once a career. Balances out all the good shit we do.”
Dalupan grinned. “He’s doing okay,” he said. “Still out of it, but the doctor says he’ll make a full recovery.”
“Great news.” Temple punched at his keyboard, trying to log into PowerCase. Access denied. Shit, they had their ducks in a row, didn’t they? He looked over at Dalupan, who had gone back to work. He could get him to log in and pull the stuff he needed. Temple turned and opened his mouth, then closed it again and turned back to his own screen. No, he couldn’t get the kid in trouble. He slammed the keyboard tray back under his desk, opened one of the filing cabinets, shoved the papers on his desk into it, and locked it shut.
“I’ll see you around, Francis.”
“You want to go for a drink or something?” Dalupan asked. Temple knew he couldn’t do that to him either; the less time Dalupan spent around a marked John Temple, the better.
“No, that’s alright. Maybe some other time. When Mendoza is back on his feet, I’ll take all of us out. See ya.” Temple took a last look around and walked out of homicide.
He had no car at 40 College. The humiliation of having to take public transit barely penetrated his thoughts. Preoccupied, he walked with purpose, closed off from the flow of commuters heading to Union Station. He covered the fifteen blocks in record time, crossing against the lights and causing a blast of horns and shouts. He was untouchable.
In the terminal he moved towards the pillar with its glass case that held the missing-child posters. He could see from five feet away that the display had changed. Instead of the posters, there was now a notice about upcoming Union Station improvements, a single white sheet surrounded by dried-out cork board. He could see the holes in the cork that had once held the photo of his sister. He looked at it for a long time. As if sensing his hostility, the ebb of commuters weaved around him. Good thing; unlike the last time he was down here, he would have clocked any yuppie who banged into him. Finally, he turned and mounted the steps to the eastbound train.
At Guildwood Station, he caught a cab to his house. He went straight to the fridge and removed a 100th Meridian lager, cracked it, and drank half. They hadn’t taken his phone and it buzzed. He knew who it was.
Carrying his beer, he went into his bedroom and changed, leaving his now-empty holster on his dresser. He had never felt the need to have another weapon at home. Toronto was a
relatively safe city, and being afforded the privilege of carrying his weapon home had always made him feel like he had adequate home defence. Guildwood had the second lowest crime rate in the city. He had looked it up.
Dressed now in jeans, a sweater, and a leather jacket, Temple headed back out, unarmed, taking his red Subaru Forester out of the garage for the first time since the fall. It started right up. His BlackBerry buzzed again. If she wanted it in person. she was going to get it.
32
Temple rapped hard on the Wozniak’s front door. He could hear Sylvia’s footsteps approaching down the hall. She opened the door, and her face went from annoyance to excitement to fear in a split second. He pushed his way in and shoved her back from the entrance. She lost her footing and fell backwards. He moved quickly, straddling her. She scrambled away, got to her feet, and made to run into the kitchen. He went after her fast, caught her, and threw her sideways at the couch.
“John, wait.”
He came at her hard, his fists balled, ready to strike. At the last moment, he caught her across the face backhanded.
“You stupid bitch,” he said.
“I didn’t tell him.”
“Bullshit,” he said. He picked her up off the couch and threw her across the room to the La-Z-Boy chair. “I saw the look in his eyes. He knows.”
She was pleading now, her hands up. He moved at her, fists balled again. He stopped, towered over her.
“Do you know what you’ve done?”
“I swear I didn’t tell him.”
“He knows.”
“All I said was …” She gulped and put her hand to the red mark on her face. It wouldn’t last too long. Temple figured Wozniak would be at work most of the night now that he had no active detectives under him and only one DC, Dalupan. Rush wouldn’t come in to do actual cop work no matter what the circumstances. Wozniak would probably be in late-night meetings all week deciding the fate of his team.
“What did you say?”
“We had a fight. He found a condom wrapper under the bed.”
“Shit,” Temple said. He went back across the room and collapsed onto the couch.
“He doesn’t know it’s you.”
“What did he do?” Temple said and she rubbed her face again.
“I’m sorry I hit you,” he said. Then he rocked forward and put his head in his hands. “This is bad,” he said. “I’m suspended, off the team. Tim didn’t even try and stop them.”
“Because of me?”
“Fuck, no. Because of this Nair case. It’s gone political. I can’t touch it. Wasn’t supposed to touch it but I did. You and me is just fuel on the fire. I saw the look in his face. He knows about us.”
She came over and sat next to him and put her arm around him. “Anything I can do? I could talk to him,” she said.
“No, that would only make things worse.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to find who shot my partner,” he said. “I don’t care if it’s the chief of police—I’m going to find that person and make them pay. To hell with the job. To hell with Tim Wozniak.” He stopped and looked closely at her. For a second he almost said “…and to hell with you,” but he saw the look in her eyes.
He moved to kiss her, and she greedily moved in. They started tearing at each other’s clothes. Temple pulled back, and she came at him again. He pushed her back, hard this time, and started to stand up. “No,” he said.
“You can’t do this. You can’t come in here and then just leave,” she said. “Not until I get what I want.”
He stood up. She grabbed at him, and he pushed her hands away. His shirt was open and she scratched his chest.
“You’re fucking evil. You know that?” he said. “I don’t believe that bullshit about the condom. You told him.”
“No,” she said, still clawing at him.
“You told him how good it was. You just want to destroy everything. ‘Self-destructive personality’—that’s what you said. Take away the word ‘self,’ though. You’re just plain destructive. My own damn fault for getting mixed up with a nut job.”
“Get the hell out of here,” she said.
“You told him, didn’t you?”
“You’re goddamn right I did. He didn’t hit me. At least not until I asked for it. Know what he did? He fucked me. Fucked me better than you ever could.”
Temple backed away in disgust.
“You think this is over, that you can just wash your hands of me like some dirty whore?”
Temple smirked at her.
“You bastard. I’m going to the chief of police. Suspended? Hell, I’m going to get you fired.”
“You try and fuck with my career, Sylvia, and I’ll kill you.” The look in Temple’s eyes frightened her; he saw that.
“John, wait. I’m sorry.” she got up and came after him. He feinted a lunge at her, put his fist over his head and made to bring it down on her face. She shrank back.
“Remember what I said.” he said, and left.
Temple managed to find a parking spot in front of the Wentworth. He dialled the bar and asked Tracy to put Rush on, not caring to hear the disgust in her voice. He could give a fuck.
“Yeah,” Rush said.
“Bill, I’m outside. Need to talk to you.”
“So come in. It’s cold outside.”
“I’m in my car. Just come out.”
“Fine,” Rush said, and the line went dead.
Rush came out and Temple flicked his headlights, and the detective came over and got in the Subaru.
“What is it, kid? Dragging me away from my drink.”
“Sorry. I have nothing in the car. Should have picked up a bottle.”
“Joking, kid. I’m not that much of an alky.”
“On your way, though, right?”
“This meant to be an intervention, kid?”
“No,” Temple said. “I need a favour.”
“Why are we talking in the car? You afraid of Tracy?”
“No. It’s just better that no one sees you with me.”
“Because of your fall from grace?”
“You already heard? It just happened a couple of hours ago.”
“I knew before it happened.”
“Who told you?”
“Confidential informant,” Rush said, and chuckled.
“You think this is funny?”
“No, kid, it’s sad. You’re just trying to do your job. What you have to realize is there’s an invisible brick wall within the TPS. You ran into it hard. Bounced off and evidently you ran right back into it. Now you’re bruised and broken, but don’t worry. You’ll mend. It won’t be permanent, your suspension.”
“Something you can do?”
“Me? No, I’m lying broken at the bottom of the brick wall and I cannot be put back together again. But I was smart enough to have a few cards tucked into my pocket. I can play them when I want, and that’s what keeps the money flowing. And the booze. So let’s say we wrap this up. What favour can I do for you?”
“Your access code to PowerCase. I need to use it. I’m shut out.”
“Power what?”
“Don’t fuck around, I know you have access.”
“My password? That’s what you want? What are you going to do with it?”
“I’m going to keep on with the Nair thing. Going to find out who shot Mendoza.”
“And do what? Arrest them? You’re suspended. It’ll get bounced.”
“No, not arrest them.”
“Little vigilante justice, huh? Dangerous business.”
“The less you know,” Temple said.
“Hence this meeting in Subaru’s finest four-wheeler. Okay, kid, my password is Wentworth. Easy to remember.”
“Should have figured.”
“Now can I go?”
“It’s nice to see you, too.”
“Fuck off, kid. We’re past that. And if I may say so, you need to wise up.”
“What ab
out?”
“What if the person who shot Mendoza is smarter than you? You think you’re going up against some dumb bikers—what if you ain’t?”
“You know who it is?”
“Not exactly, but be careful. You might end up in a bed next to your partner.”
“I’ll be careful.”
“You always say that, kid, and look at you now. Anyway.” Rush opened the car door and was gone.
33
The next day the temperature jumped up to the low teens, meaning an end to the remaining snow. The streets were dry and clear, with just the occasional patch of snow tucked up under the wide, sweeping branches of evergreens, protected from the sun. The little mountains of snow and ice, painted black with a coating of dirt, were being assaulted by the sun.
Temple lowered his window and let the warm air flow into the car. There was a brand new Cadillac in the thin driveway of the Nairs’ home. Temple was about to get out of his car when he saw the Nairs’ front door open and out stepped the owner of the Cadillac. It was Ravinder Nair, the cousin, owner of Best Taxi. It was early; Ravinder must have arrived early—or maybe he’d spent the night? Interesting, Temple thought. The man was straightening his tie as he walked to the Caddy. He didn’t spot Temple from a hundred feet away.
When the Cadillac had cleared the street, Temple went to the house. He mounted the steps, pushed the doorbell, and rapped hard on the glass outer door. Farzana Nair yanked the door open angrily. Temple stared hard at her; he wasn’t friendly now, like the first time they’d met. The look on Farzana’s face changed to shame. She knew Temple had seen the cousin leave her place just now, all dishevelled.
“May I speak with you a minute, Mrs. Nair?”
She was in a housecoat and she pulled it close around her. “I suppose. Come in.” She set off down the hall, her slippers making a shuffling sound. Temple followed. He grabbed the picture of their older daughter Sidduth off the wall, then one with her and her high school friends, and followed the mother into the sitting room. When she turned around he handed the picture to her.
“That girl to the left of Sidduth, the one with blonde hair. I need her name.”
