18

It was two o’clock in the morning when Jack drove Laura home.

“I think it went well tonight,” said Laura. “Goldie was pretty friendly. Even bought us a round.”

“You’re right. No conversation to hint of anything illegal, but friendly. Monday is a stat holiday. Let’s take the next three days off. Wednesday morning the narcs have scheduled a meeting. We’ll wait until next Friday before going back to the club. See how Goldie acts toward us then.”

“You think he’s trying to check you out? Maybe with that Woo character that Wang was talking to?”

Jack nodded and said, “In the event something does go awry, I’ve got my fake ID made with O’Donnell ending in one L instead of two. If worse comes to worse, I can make it look like Rose made a mistake and thought I was the more notorious O’Donnell.”

“Let’s hope they don’t check you out beyond old newspaper clippings.”

“Oh, I don’t know, it could prove interesting,” replied Jack.

Laura saw a bemused look on Jack’s face. “Okay. What is it?” she asked. “I haven’t seen a genuine smile on your face all night until now.”

Jack cast a sideways glance at Laura and said, “I presumed Goldie might want to check me out — but think about it. They obviously don’t have any real connections in Montreal yet. It would be a little like going to Chicago and asking about Al Capone back in the 1930s.”

“So they might hear some bad stories to support your cover story?”

Jack smiled and said, “There is something I neglected to mention to Rose. The real Happy Jack is a bona fide sociopath, on top of which he hates being referred to as Happy Jack. It wasn’t the media who first named him that. It was a title his enemies bestowed upon him, inferring that he was always drunk. Rumour is he shot someone in the balls once for calling him that.”

“No kidding?”

“Guess he has issues. Hope whoever decides to ask about Happy Jack has life insurance.”

“Oh, man,” mumbled Laura. Here we go again.

On the morning of the following Wednesday, Jack, Laura, and CC were invited to attend a meeting with Drug Section. When they all arrived, Sammy told them that they were expecting to end their undercover heroin operation within the next two or three days.

“I thought things were going well for you with the targets who hang out at Wang’s restaurant?” said CC.

“They are,” replied Sammy. “We’re using different operators for the ecstasy and meth. We hope to run that one for another month, depending upon whether or not the money holds out.”

Sammy passed Jack a couple of surveillance pictures of a man with a ponytail and a black goatee. “This is Jojo. So far he is the biggest fish we’ve caught. Our operator is going to approach him Friday and see if we can buy a kilo. We can’t spend the cash, so if he goes for it, we’ll bust him and whoever else shows up.”

Both Jack and Laura examined the photos carefully.

“When on Friday?” asked Jack.

“We don’t want to give Jojo any time to dick around. The operator will approach him early in the evening. Part of the cover story is that he’s a truck driver and has to be on the road by midnight.”

“You think Jojo can come up with a kilo that fast?” asked Jack.

“He told the operator he could come up with it on two hours’ notice. I don’t think Jojo is bullshitting. Last time we ordered a quarter pound from him, he went to Goldie Locks, then met our guy at a McDonald’s half an hour later and did the deal.”

“Think it will be the same restaurant?” asked Jack.

“Have no idea. The operator is going to try and push him to meet his source. Don’t know how that will go, but either way, I’m going to plunk myself in a corner at Goldie Locks before Jojo gets there. If he shows up, I should be in a position to see who he meets. I’ll have my cell. If that person goes somewhere, we’ll tail him and see if he takes us to a stash.”

“What can we do to help?” asked Jack.

“You know a lot of the regulars. I’m hoping whoever he meets might be somebody you can put a name to. You know how these things go. Whoever he meets could end up chatting with someone else and so on. Anything you can do to help identify these pricks the better. If you need to tell me something, make eye contact and I’ll meet you in the can.”

“We’re not in a position to help with any arrests or if something goes wrong,” said Laura. “We’ve got our own thing going on in there.”

“Yeah, I know. All I’m asking is for you to be our eyes and ears. Leave any rough stuff to us.”

“So why did you call me to this meeting?” asked CC. “You’re talking dope. I’m homicide.”

“Jojo is currently serving triple probation.”

“Triple probation?” asked CC. “How the hell does he do that?”

Sammy grimaced and said, “Very easily, I’m afraid. Welcome to the world of drug trafficking in B.C. He was convicted three times in the last two years for trafficking. He received probation each time and the sentences are overlapping each other. The only thing hurting him is his sides from laughing so much. I’m hoping this time might be different. If we nail him with a kilo, he could be looking at doing federal time. If you want us to try and roll him, we’re willing to do so.”

“You’d let him walk?” asked CC.

“If he can provide info on a homicide, sure. It’s your call.”

CC thought about it for a moment and shook her head. “I appreciate the offer, but even if Jojo was somehow connected with Goldie and was able to give him to us, Goldie would serve less time than what Jojo is looking at. As I said before, his lawyer would put him on the stand and have him say he thought it was all a prank — that he didn’t really know what was going on.” CC slowly shook her head and looked at Sammy and said, “I don’t think it’s worth jeopardizing what you already have. In this case, it’s like having two birds in the hand and wanting to trade for one in the bush. Besides, would Jojo at his level be in with someone like Goldie? What do you think, Jack? Organized crime is your baby.”

Jack sighed and said, “Unfortunately, I agree with you completely. Goldie said he used his guys to grab the victim. He also said he told them it was a prank. Even if Jojo was one of those guys, it wouldn’t change anything as far as the courts go. Not to mention, whoever The Shaman and The Enabler are, they’re above Goldie and that makes them light years out of Jojo’s league.”

“Those two and the guy with dead eyes who wears a suit, as well,” added CC. She looked at Sammy and said, “Thanks for thinking about me, anyway. If something of interest comes up on the UC or wiretap involving Wang’s people, let me know.”

Once the meeting came to an end, CC asked Jack if she could talk to him in private for a moment.

They found a quiet spot in the hall to talk and Jack asked, “Any chance we could get a surreptitious warrant for Goldie’s home and businesses?”

“Not a chance with what we’ve got,” replied CC. “Better hope what you and Laura are doing will turn up something. That’s if it really was the same guy in the park that Goldie was talking about.”

“You still don’t think it is?”

“The small footprint still bugs me. I’m not completely convinced that it is.”

“I am,” replied Jack confidently. “So what’s up? What did you want to talk to me about?”

CC took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “I have a confession to make. I spoke to Rose about you the other day.”

“You what? What about?”

CC glanced around and said, “You and I — well, you know what’s happened in previous murder investigations I’ve had. You’ve got to admit, you tend to stick your nose into investigations that you have no right to be involved in.”

“It’s not like they didn’t turn out well.”

“No, and I’m sure whoever the Coroners Service hired to keep up with the extra workload appreciates the work.”

“It wasn’t my fault.”

CC put her hand up and said, “Stop. Don’t even go there.”

“What did you tell Rose?”

“I told her my concerns and gave her my honest opinion.”

“Which is?”

“I feel you get too emotionally involved with the victims. I could see it on your face when we listened to Goldie and Wang on the car bug. I understood when it was your niece and nephew. Even when those guys came after your last partner’s family, I understood. But with you, it doesn’t stop there. This file is just about some homeless guy —”

“That homeless guy has a name. It’s Melvin Montgomery.”

“See? That proves my point. You’re becoming emotional just talking about it. You should stick to whatever it is you do on Intelligence and leave the homicides to me.”

“This is organized crime,” replied Jack adamantly. “Big time.”

“Yeah, maybe we are into that now, but you didn’t know that when you first butted in.”

Jack silently reflected on his thoughts for a moment. “Okay,” he said, quietly. “Melvin was Natasha’s patient. She liked him and was afraid the investigation would get swept under the carpet.”

“I would never do that.”

“I know. I told her so. As far as me being emotionally attached to the victims, you’re probably right. Thanks for bringing it to my attention. I’ll try to make sure it doesn’t affect my judgment.”

CC paused as she looked at Jack before saying, “Fuck you. Don’t bullshit me. What do you think I am? Internal?”

“I’m not bullshitting. I’m married. My world has changed.”

“Yeah? Well, anyway, I wanted to apologize. I told Rose she should keep an eye on you. You’re a good cop. I don’t want to see you get in shit.”

Jack grinned momentarily, then said, “Don’t worry about it. I understand your point of view. We’re both trying to do the right thing.”

“Yeah, I know that. There is one more thing. When I was talking to Rose, I had the distinct impression she knew everything about your previous … uh, episodes. I think somebody else may have already spoken with her. You might want to keep your head up. Or is it down? Whatever. You know what I mean.”

“Thanks, CC. Appreciate it.”

On their way back to their office, Laura turned to Jack and asked, “What did CC want?”

“She apologized for speaking to Rose the other day. Feels guilty.”

“Good,” replied Laura.

“Rose said she probably would apologize. She could tell how guilty CC felt.”

At 8:30 Friday night, Jack and Laura sat in their usual spot in Goldie Locks. They were barely seated when Jack received a call from Sammy.

“I’ll be there any second,” said Sammy, speaking rapidly. “Our operator is with Jojo and heading your way. They’re only about two blocks behind me. Jojo is going to make our operator wait outside in his car while he goes in to talk with the man. Jojo is really pissed off and doesn’t want to do it, but our guy said for the amount he is buying, he wants to make sure he is guaranteed a better price next time and wants to be able to score if Jojo isn’t around. Jojo said he would ask, but I bet he doesn’t.”

“Good luck,” said Jack, hanging up his phone. He quickly relayed the information to Laura as Patty approached to take their order.

“Three-olive martini and a Bellini?” Patty asked, with a smile.

“Sounds good to start,” replied Jack.

“Uh, Mister Goldie said if I see you to let him know,” said Patty.

“Fine,” replied Jack. “Tell him we’re here.”

When Patty placed their order with Purvis and disappeared into the back of the club, Jack saw Sammy saunter in and take a seat on the opposite side of the club. It was a good spot. Between them, they would be able to watch everyone without having to leave their seats.

Moments later, Patty returned with their drinks and said, “Jack, Mister Goldie asked if you would meet him in his office for a moment. I think he is expecting an important call and doesn’t want to miss it.”

Jack looked at Laura and she said, “That’s okay, honey. I’ll wait.”

As Jack followed Patty he caught a glimpse of Jojo entering the club. He knew that Laura also saw him and continued to follow the waitress down a short hallway to Goldie’s office.

“Come on in,” said Goldie, looking up over the screen on his laptop and eyeing Jack carefully.

Any warmth Jack had detected in Goldie’s voice the last time they met was gone.

“Thanks, Patty,” said Goldie. “That is all. Close the door after you.”

Once Patty had left, Goldie arose from his desk and gestured for Jack to take a seat in a sitting area in his office that was composed of an overstuffed black-and-white cowhide patterned leather sofa and two matching leather chairs.

A glass coffee table in the centre contained a moss-filled, black clay pot sprouting a cluster of white orchids.

Jack selected a chair and Goldie sat across the table from him on the sofa.

“What is it, Arthur? You seem a little distraught?”

Goldie glared silently at Jack for a moment, his eyes studying Jack’s face for a response.

Ah, the psychological games we play, thought Jack. You bring me into your lair, close the door, and adopt an alpha-male attitude … Jack eyed the plant on the coffee table and smiled. He leaned forward, slightly turning the clay pot. “Beautiful. The moth orchid. They’re such an exotic flower. One of my favourites. A common variety perhaps, but beautiful, nonetheless.”

“Yes, it is.”

“So,” said Jack harshly, pointing his finger at Goldie. “We’re not here to discuss flowers. What’s on your mind?”

The change in Jack’s demeanour caught Goldie off guard and he automatically leaned back on the sofa. “Well … I received some rather disturbing news this morning. Rather upsetting. It concerns you.”

“Concerns me?” replied Jack. His tone was friendly again. His face showed surprise, as he turned the pot back to its original position.

Goldie felt a little confused. How will he respond? Admire my damned plant and smile … or reach in his pocket for a jackknife? Goldie took a deep breath, subconsciously crossed his legs and said, “It’s about an incident that happened in Montreal two nights ago. You didn’t hear about it?”

“I’ve been out boating for the last few days,” said Jack casually. “Haven’t stayed in touch with the news. I do have a few calls to return, but no indication of anything urgent. Why? I can’t imagine anything that would have any affect on you. Has the RCMP been around again making their usual vociferous and blasphemous accusations? I understood they had finished prodding into my affairs.”

“No, it’s nothing like that. Well, sort of. It was because of the visit I received from them that —”

“That what?” said Jack coldly.

“That, uh, tweaked my curiosity at little. I happened to mention the incident to a friend. Turns out he knew someone who happened to move to Montreal recently. A Mister Woo. Apparently your name came up in conversation between the two of them. Mister Woo and a friend of his happened to find themselves in an Irish pub two nights ago and Mister Woo took it upon himself to ask about you.”

“Mister Woo sounds like a very nosy person,” replied Jack. His voice was monotone and he showed no emotion.

“Anyone he spoke to said they had never heard of you.”

That’s hard to believe. He wouldn’t have bothered to call me in if that’s all there was to it. “See? It is as I said,” replied Jack. “The RCMP are completely wrong in their assumption that I am some type of gangster.”

“Later, when they left to go to their car, Mister Woo was attacked by several men and severely beaten with a baseball bat. His friend was told to stay out of the fracas or he would get the same.”

“Sounds unfortunate,” said Jack. “What with the economy the way it is, many poor people become desperate for money.”

“It wasn’t robbery,” said Goldie with determination. “They didn’t steal anything. As they were putting the boots to Mister Woo, their remarks indicated it was because he was rude to be asking questions, let alone insinuating that one of their friends was a drunk. By their accents, he knew they were all Irish.”

“He told one of them they were a drunk?”

Goldie shrugged and said, “He was being beaten so badly, plus English is a second language to them, they probably didn’t understand.”

“What an unfortunate incident,” said Jack, lightly. “Perhaps my people thought he was a cop or a reporter or something.”

“Your people?”

“Uh … I mean the Irish. Generally speaking. What with the problems over the years with the IRA, the British … you must understand what it was like. Old habits don’t go away so easily. Asking too many questions in an Irish pub can be detrimental to your health. I wouldn’t advise it, personally. How is the poor fellow? This Mister Woo?”

“He is out of intensive care, but he has two broken arms, a broken collarbone, and his jaw is wired shut. Some of his ribs are cracked, and on top of that, he will be in traction for the next six weeks.”

“Sounds like a most unfortunate misunderstanding.”

“Misunderstanding! Who are you kidding? It was your people.”

Jack leaned forward, sticking one finger into the moss at the base of the orchid. “This orchid is far too dry,” he said. “It needs a wee touch. Keep this up and you’ll have to borrow an intravenous tube from nosy wee Woo to rescue it.”

“Did you listen when I told you what they did to him? The poor bastard can’t even wipe his own ass!”

“Well,” said Jack, calmly, “with his jaw wired shut, it isn’t like he is going to be eating much, anyway.”

Goldie’s mouth gaped open in surprise. He thought about Jack’s comment and started laughing.