by Warren Court
I looked at him. “Relax,” I said. “Didn’t she tell you I was cool?”
“You’re going to be cooling your heels in the clink for the next twenty years, Jack,” Imelda said.
“For what, copper?” I said. If she was going to talk like she was in a Jimmy Cagney movie, I was going to do my best impression of him.
“Drugs,” Imelda said. “A whole pile of drugs. Cocaine, weed, crystal meth. We’re not talking about recreational drug use.”
“What are you talking about, Imelda? I have a busy day ahead of me.”
“I’m talking about you being part of a group of dirty cops who have set themselves up in the drug trade as a sort of. . . What?” She looked at Larson.
“Middle man,” Larson said.
“He speaks,” I said.
“Yes, I do. My favourite thing to say is ‘You have the right to remain silent,’” Larson said.
“We’ve got your ass, Jack. You’re in bed with the Scallas,” Imelda said.
I laughed at that, aware that the timbre and tone of my laughter said more than I wanted to.
“So, this is where you offer me a lifeline?” I said.
“Yup,” Imelda said.
“Forget it. If you had anything on me you would have pulled me in. You guys in Internal Affairs forget that you work on cops.”
“Yeah, but what you cops don’t realize is that when we guys in Internal Affairs come for one of you, we have everything ready to go. Videotape, audiotape. Confessions from your snitches, your victims. We’re offering you a one-time deal, Jack. Next time you see me, the bracelets go on and you get stuffed in the back of a car.”
“Do your worst, Imelda.”
The pair of them made to leave, and I followed them out. Imelda paused at the edge of my boat, one leg straddling the lifeline that ran up the starboard side.
“Too bad about Estrada,” she said.
I said nothing.
“You know what happened?”
“I was there.”
“Yeah, in the back, with Rico. We know that. But do you know why it happened?”
Again, I said nothing.
“It wasn’t just a case of bad timing. Being in the wrong place at the wrong time,” she said.
“Out with it.”
“I’m not ready to lay down all my cards. But you should look into it.”
I stood there until they had cleared the jetty and my boat stopped rocking. I went back into the cabin and poured myself a straight double rum and gulped it down.
Chapter 38
“How can he afford this place?” I said aloud as I drove up Macintyre’s circular driveway in Oakville. Then I grinned. I knew exactly how he could afford it. Macintyre took the lion’s share of the payoff from the Scallas and guys like Soos. God knows how many more income streams he had pouring into his coffers.
But he didn’t care. I mean, he probably could justify the expenditure on the home and on the Cadillac I pulled up behind in the driveway. I knew that in addition to working the job, he also did speaking engagements around the country, paid ones. That the speaker’s circuit was very lucrative and not in conflict with his job.
And this wasn’t the fanciest part of Oakville. It was on the water, sure, and in the old part of town, south of the highway, that was the real Oakville to the long-time residents. But it was just a small lot compared to the millionaire mansions further down the road. Lakeshore Road in Oakville was populated with the palatial estates of beer barons and car magnates.
Macintyre opened the front door as I got out. He was in jeans and a plaid shirt. I’d never seen him in anything but a suit. It was weird. I was still dressed lousier than him in my tattered and sun-bleached jeans and sweatshirt.
“What do you want?” he said, blocking the door.
“Just to talk,” I said.
He pulled back into his house and I followed.
“You said it was urgent,” he said.
“No, I didn’t. I said it was important.”
“Estrada,” I said. “I want to know how it went down. The real story. How those two assholes got away.”
He put a finger to his mouth and put his drink down. Before I knew it, he had me raising my arms and he patted me down.
“You think I’m that stupid?” I protested. “I’ve been working for you for a while now. We’re in this thing together.” I said.
His search for a microphone on my body over, he motioned for me to sit down.
I took a seat and kept at my drink. He sat opposite me.
“So, Estrada,” I began again.
“They had their hooks in him,” he said.
“Internal Affairs?”
Macintyre nodded.
“So you whacked him out?” I said.
“What are you, some sort of Boy Scout?”
“He was one of us,” I said.
“Yeah, and he was going to put all of us in jail. I didn’t take him out; the Scallas did. They didn’t ask my permission so I couldn’t say no.”
“Doesn’t that piss you off?”
“It did at first, but when you think about it, it had to be done.”
“They came to me,” I said.
“Who?”
“Larson and his right-hand man, Imelda Journey.”
“That little dyke.”
“Said they were coming to me early with a one-time deal.”
“Those two don’t have anything on us. If they did, they’d have us in cuffs by now.”
“You knew they were on to us? Is that why you cooled things down?”
Macintyre said nothing.
“I haven’t been on a good street rip in over a year,” I said.
“You hurting for money? Is this a shakedown? You got some balls.”
“No, of course not.”
“Your wife digging into you yet? Lawyer bills, alimony?”
“She’s got some guy on the force. Said she was going to marry him.”
Macintyre chuckled.
“If she does, fine. No alimony. I can live simple for a while. Like you,” I said, and looked around the tastefully appointed living room. “You never married?”
“I was married,” he said. “She died. This is from the insurance.” He looked around his place too, pleased with what he had.
“Danny Terrance,” I said.
“Who?”
“That drug dealer from way back, when I was still in uniform. He cut my buddy Daryl. Sergeant Coolie and I found him. We were going to beat the crap out of him. Then he winds up dead, strangled. Enzo Scalla’s handiwork. You shopped him to the Scallas, didn’t you? You and Coolie.”
“You weep for him?”
“No. But was that the start of it, when you sized me up as someone you could have on your team? I got put on to Drugs at the end of that shift.”
“No, I had you pegged earlier. When you let your buddy Don off the hook.”
I nodded. “Right. I remember that—you were there. Out recruiting for dirty cops.”
“I had you pegged. Was I wrong?”
I shrugged.
“Take your sense of morality, your sense of fair play, and stick it up your ass,” Macintyre said. “Now get out of here. I’m on my way out.”
I sat in my car in his driveway, thinking. I was thinking of going back in there and putting one in his head. I saw him upstairs at one of the bedroom windows. For a brief second, I saw my wife’s face. Then she disappeared.
Chapter 39
I was stopped at a red light in Hamilton and I beat the steering wheel of my car until my hands ached. I didn’t know what I was madder at: the fact that they had killed Estrada, or the fact that a senior detective, my superior, was balling my wife.
I remember Macintyre looking genuinely choked up when he’d hugged Estrada’s widow. Those might as well have been Hamilton PD bullets they’d dug out of his body. That’s why the shooters had never been found: they were either whacked out and put in a hole or were back in Jamaica. No way they’d be ta
ken alive.
The Scallas had set that up, led us right in. It could easily have been me right by Estrada’s side when that machine gun opened up. I remembered Rico volunteering the two of us to take the back. Then it hit me: Rico had been in on it. That was the real reason I’d got sent out of town and he’d got bumped up to the leadership role.
The light was green and someone behind me was honking their horn.
“Fuck you,” I yelled. I put my car in reverse and banged into them, then jammed it back into drive and sped off. I was angry, but underneath that I was wrapped in a blanket of fear.
I pushed Rico up against the wall at Bannister’s, jolting pictures of local sports celebrities down onto the floor.
“Jack?” Rico said. Out of my peripheral vision, I saw two beefy biker types and a skinnier guy, who were playing pool, stop their game and look at me. They kept hold of their pool cues. Nothing beats a twelve-ounce pool cue as a weapon.
“You knew about it? About Estrada?”
“Keep your voice down, for Christ’s sake,” Rico said.
I didn’t realize I had been shouting. I now became aware of all eyes on us. My next words hissed out of my mouth. “He was our friend. Our partner. A cop, man. How could you be involved in something like that?”
“I just heard about it from some cross-talk. I wasn’t in on it.”
“Bullshit,” I said. “You deliberately put us in the back of that house. Why did you do that?”
“You’re alive, aren’t you? That’s why. You should be thanking me. Those niggers could have lit you up, too.”
I pulled him back and banged him against the wall again.
“How can you talk about a friend of ours like that? We murdered him.”
“There a problem, Jack?” It was Bruno Scalla.
“Just a difference of opinion, Bruno,” Rico said.
“Take it outside. You’re disturbing the girls. And me.”
“Sure. Sure thing, Bruno. Come on, Jack. Let’s talk outside.”
I let go of Rico and he made for the door. I stayed put and looked at Bruno. The guy I now knew had had Estrada killed. My friend.
We locked eyes for a second, and I saw the concerned, angry look on his face turn to one of pure hatred and evil. And this was one of my partners in crime. That look told me that I was next on the hit parade if I didn’t play this right. But at that moment I could not have cared less.
I caught up with Rico outside. He was smoking a cigarette and leaning up against a parked car. We were far away enough from the bouncer at the front door to talk.
“That was fucked up, Jack. Doing that in there.”
“I don’t care.”
“You work for me, don’t forget. It all matters in their eyes. They see us infighting, then we have problems.”
“Is that what you call whacking Estrada out? Infighting?”
“That was a business decision.”
“Made by who? Macintyre? You? Did you want his job that badly?”
It was Rico’s turn now to go hands on. He grabbed me and pushed me up against the side of a barber shop. He looked around nervously.
“What, you afraid they have a directional microphone on us? You want to check me for a wire?” I opened my coat. “Macintyre did that an hour ago, but go ahead—get your rocks off.”
“You saw Macintyre?”
“Yup. Went out to his house. Nice place, huh? How do you think a detective, even a senior one, can afford a place like that? I’ll tell you how: he can’t. Not unless he has a river of illicit drug money coming at him. Day in, day out. You think that’s gone unnoticed by Internal Affairs? Insurance money, my ass.”
Rico started to walk away and I caught up with him. “You don’t think Internal Affairs are switched on to us, too?” I said.
“I know they are. They had Estrada in their grip. Those evil mothers—once they get their hooks in you. . .”
“What about us? How evil are we?”
“We’re providing for our families. Our future. Everyone’s doing it, bro. You heard about the cops in New York, Brooklyn, the Bronx?”
“Yeah, and look what happened to them. They’re going to jail. And this is Canada, not the US.”
“Exactly. We don’t even put murderers in jail for very long. Relax, man.”
“You bastard.”
“I said relax, Jack. We’ve cooled things down.”
“Yeah, but for how long? How long before Macintyre needs to make a mortgage payment his detective salary won’t cover? You think a guy like that is going to cool things down?”
Rico stopped walking.
“He’s hanging us out to dry, bro,” I said.
“She came to see you too? With that prick Larson?”
“Yes,” I said.
“What you tell them?”
“Told them to go to hell and go do some real police work. What’d you tell them?”
“The same.”
“You better hope Macintyre believes you. I know her; she’s good police. She’s building a case. Macintyre knows it. All they need is one of us to roll on everyone else.”
“I gotta go, Jack. Been nice talking to you. See you down at the station.”
“That’s it?”
“Yeah, Jack, that’s it. Keep your mouth shut.”
Rico hopped in his car and I turned and made my way back to mine, looking over my shoulder into the doorways of the closed shops the whole time, my hand resting on the butt of my Glock.
Chapter 40
I insisted we meet way out of town. Port Dover seemed like a good place. It could give me a chance to take the highway and beat down a tail if Macintyre was following me. I swung by Don’s place and borrowed a vehicle, just in case there was a transponder on mine. It was one of his clients’ cars and he had just fixed a problem with the exhaust. He didn’t care if I took it out.
I got to the meeting spot an hour ahead of time and checked it out. Grabbed a hotdog from a stand and waited in my car. They were on time. They didn’t spot me right away and I saw them looking around the parking lot for my truck, not seeing it. I waved at them.
They were wearing the same suits as when I’d seen them on my boat.
“Morning, Imelda,” I said. “Larson.”
“See you came to your senses,” Larson said.
“Maybe,” I said.
Imelda grinned. “They tell you about Estrada?”
“Not in so many words. They’re not stupid.”
“So, it’s true? They set him up?”
“You weren’t convinced? I should get some snitch money out of you.”
“We heard about it but had no proof. Too bad you weren’t wearing a wire. This whole thing could get sewn up right now. I assume that’s why you wanted us to meet way out here.”
“I won’t wear a wire.”
“No good if you don’t,” she said.
“Macintyre already checked me once. He’s on to you. On to me. He suspects a rat in his crew. I’ll probably be frisked every time I see him. But he needs cash. You see that house of his?”
“So, what are you thinking?”
“A sting. You set something up, I bring him to it. You catch him and Rico and whoever else red-handed.”
“Really sounds dangerous. A million things could go wrong.”
“A million things already have gone wrong. My career. My—”
“—Marriage,” Larson said.
I didn’t mention that Macintyre was balling my wife. Didn’t want to muddy the waters. They wouldn’t care, and they might see it as an extra revenge factor for me, which might make it too dangerous. They wanted me scared, not angry.
“You set something up. I’ll float word back to Macintyre that there’s a huge shipment coming in. New players in town. Seven figures, easy. He’ll go for it,” I said.
“What if he doesn’t?”
“He’ll go for it. Besides, it’ll be a good way for him to see if I’m the rat. He won’t pass that up.”
“He
’ll whack you out.”
