Dead Ends (10 page)

Moments later Jack met with Laura and members of the Victoria PD.

Jack turned over the plastic baggie of cocaine to Valentine and said, “This guy is dangerous.”

“I know. I warned you.”

Jack looked at Laura and sighed.

“What is it?” she asked.

“In all good conscience I don't think we should give McCall the opportunity to stay out of jail.”

Laura stared briefly at Jack and said, “It's your call. I respect your opinion on that. Connie won't be happy.”

“Neither will some citizen when they cross paths with McCall. He's a ticking time bomb waiting to go off.” Jack looked at Valentine and said, “Bust him. I'll testify when the time comes.”

Later, Jack called Connie.

“How did it go?” she asked. “Did he roll? Does he know who Cocktail is?”

Jack sighed and said, “Sorry, Connie. For your investigation, consider McCall a dead end. He's too dangerous. I'm not giving him the opportunity to talk. We'll need to find some other way to pursue this.”

“What are you talking about? We need to identify Cocktail!”

“I know that,” replied Jack as he hung up.

Chapter Eleven

On Monday morning Jack received an unexpected call from Gabriel Parsons, inviting him over for tea.

“I don't know if you know,” said Gabriel, “but we've moved to a new home in Richmond. Well … not exactly new. About the same as our other place, but new to us. A new start, I pray.”

That was fast
, thought Jack, before realizing three months had passed since Father Brown was murdered.
Three months and we're no further ahead …

Jack arrived at the new address and Gabriel invited him inside for tea and freshly baked chocolate-chip cookies.

“I wanted to apologize,” said Gabriel. “I believe I was rude to you when … well, when we first met. I was blaming you for allowing these men to make drugs in my basement.”

“I'm the policeman, not the judge who let them out,” said Jack.

“I realize that. I also spoke with my neighbour before I moved. Was it you who came and cleaned the back of my house?”

Jack nodded and recalled the numerous sprays of blood that he had scrubbed off. It made him conscious of how much time had passed while a monster remained on the loose.

“That was a very Christian thing to do. Out of curiosity, what church do you belong to?”

“I'm an atheist.”

“Oh … I see,” replied Gabriel, with a frown.

“How is Faith?” asked Jack, intentionally changing the subject.

“She's still in hospital. She has one more round of radiation to go. The doctor seems optimistic. I have been praying that God does not take her from me this soon.”

“And your son? How is he doing?”

“Noah is … well, he's had to adjust to a new school. He's been fighting. I think he is angry at the world. He and Father Brown were close. It was like he lost his father all over again. At least the doctors say he is healthy.”

“Would you like me to talk to him?”

“Thank you, but no. Together, our faith in God will see us through these troubled times. The school counsellor is also involved.”

“I see. And your daycare? Have you started up again?”

“I have one dear little toddler for three days a week when her mother works. Hopefully more will come later. All of my previous clients have taken their children elsewhere. I can't blame them, I suppose.”

“It wasn't your fault.”

Gabriel shrugged off his comment and said, “I also have a basement suite, but have been afraid to … well, after last time ... would you happen to know anyone? Perhaps a young police officer or someone who would be interested?”

“Not offhand, but I will ask around,” replied Jack.

The rest of the visit went well, but Jack felt mixed emotions when he left. He was relieved that Gabriel was not blaming him, but at the same time he spotted a photograph of Faith and felt frustrated that he was no closer to identifying Cocktail than he was months earlier.

Two more weeks passed with little activity until the day that Kent Rodine appeared for his trial over his charges stemming from when seven labs were raided. Jack and Laura, both parked outside the courthouse, waited for a call from one of the Drug Section investigators. The call came early in the afternoon.

“Jack. Sammy here. You wouldn't believe the performance. Rodine's girlfriend looks like she's going to give birth any moment. They were being all kissy-face and he was patting her stomach. Once, when Rodine was being cross-examined I think she had a contraction. The jury couldn't take their eyes off of her.”

“Do you know her name?”

“I heard the lawyer refer to her as Miss Venice when he asked if she was okay.”

“Is the jury still out?”

“No, they're back already. It's the fastest I've seen a jury reach a decision. Guess they didn't want to watch a baby being born in front of them. No big surprise, they found Rodine not guilty. Didn't matter that his fingerprints were on the glassware. Good news for you, but to me the whole thing sucks.”

“You got an eye on them?”

“Yeah, they should be coming out soon. He groomed for court and is clean shaven with short hair and wearing a blue, pin-striped suit. She is as big as a house. You can't miss them. Hang on … the lawyer is walking with them. You should see all of them in about half a minute.”

“Who is the lawyer?” asked Jack.

“A biker lawyer. Basil Westmount.”

“Same one that Varrick had,” replied Jack. “That's a good sign. Could mean that Rodine is close to Satans Wrath.”

“Good luck.”

Rodine, Venice, and Westmount left the courthouse together and walked to a nearby lounge. Jack and Laura walked in as their targets sat down in a booth. Connie, along with several other I-HIT members, remained outside to continue the surveillance when they left.

Although the lighting was dim, there were no other customers and Jack knew that they could not sit beside them in the next booth and listen without attracting attention.

“What do you figure?” whispered Laura. “Maybe we should wait outside.”

“I'd like to know if Cocktail's name comes up,” replied Jack.

“They'll burn us if we try to listen in on —”

“Come on,” said Jack, taking Laura by the hand and walking over and sitting at the booth adjoining Westmount, Rodine, and Venice. Westmount, who had been talking, became quiet as soon as Jack and Laura sat down. Laura looked at Jack and grimaced.

“Let's sit farther back where it's darker,” said Jack, standing up. “Your hubby works around here. If he walks in, it's better if we see him first.”

Westmount watched quietly as Jack and Laura moved to a table farther away before resuming their conversation. Rodine and Venice did not seem to notice and were still excited from their victory in court.

“Told you sitting next to them wasn't a good idea,” said Laura.

“Guess you were right,” replied Jack.

“Oh, man,” muttered Laura. “Venice ordered a beer. I want to go over there and tell her off.”

“And you thought sitting next to them would heat us up,” replied Jack. “Forget that idea.”

After three drinks each and an hour later, Rodine, Venice, and Westmount left the lounge. Jack was glad that neither man gave them a second look. His actions earlier hadn't caused them concern.

Laura used her BlackBerry to call Connie. “Got 'em?” Laura asked.

“Ten-four,” replied Connie. “They meet anyone?”

“No. Jack and I will have to play catch-up.” As she spoke, Laura saw Jack go over to the bench that Westmount had been sitting on. Laura continued to talk to Connie and said, “We'll call you when — oh, man!”

“What is it?” asked Connie.

Laura watched as Jack bent over and retrieved an object from under the bench.

“Laura? What's wrong?” asked Connie.

“Uh … nothing. Almost broke a nail.”

By the time Jack and Laura returned to their car, Connie called to say that Rodine and Venice had said goodbye to Westmount and were getting in a car. The car was registered to a low-level drug trafficker in Richmond. Jack wondered if the car was “loaned” because the owner was behind on a drug payment. Not an uncommon practice in the drug business.

As Laura wheeled through traffic to catch up to the surveillance team, she said, “Okay. Let's hear it.”

“Hear it?”

“Your voice-activated recorder. Smooth, I didn't see you do it.”

“Taping Rodine without a judge's order … Laura, I'm aghast. That would be illegal.”

“It would be illegal, anyway. Conversation with his lawyer is privileged.” She snapped, “Quit pretending! I saw you go back to where Westmount was sitting.”

“This is strictly between the two of us,” said Jack, as he took the recorder out of his jacket.

“It had better be,” said Laura seriously.

“We listen once and I erase it.”

“Erasing a problem is easier than burying it in a cemetery,” replied Laura.

Jack put his finger to his lips, gesturing to Laura to be quiet as he played back the recorder.

The first conversation they heard was Venice laughing as she said, “Well, do you think it's time for me to give birth to an eight-pound pillow?”

“I would prefer if you waited until you were back in the car,” said Westmount. “I wouldn't like to take a chance that we run into the judge or juror members when we leave.”

“If you insist,” giggled Venice. “How was my performance?”

“Outstanding,” said Westmount. “I'm tempted to hire you for other cases. Next time maybe you could babysit someone's infant and bring it to court.”

“You think I'm that good?”

“You were really good, honey,” said Rodine.

“Cute touch on your part, too,” said Westmount, “by patting her stomach.”

Jack paused the recorder and said, “And you thought she was going to be a bad mother. Jumping to conclusions like that. Shame on you,” he said, with mock admonishment.

“I don't know whether to be happy that she isn't pregnant or angry at her deceit.”

Jack clicked the recorder back on. The rest of the conversation was uneventful up until Westmount ordered the bill from the waiter.

“Speaking of bills,” said Westmount, “do you want to pay me now? I never know where to send your invoice.”

“Tomorrow is Friday, which is delivery day for me,” replied Rodine. “I've got the ol' cookie sheets full. Tomorrow morning I'll bag and deliver. I can bring you the cash then.”

“I've got a trial scheduled for ten tomorrow morning,” replied Westmount.

“Not a problem. I'll be on the road by six. Gotta have it delivered by eight. I could still make it to your office by nine.”

“Perfect,” replied Westmount. “I'll give you the invoice then.”

“Wish the invoice really matched what I have been paying you,” grumbled Rodine.

“Hey, we talked about that. I've warned you that leaving a paper trail could put you in jeopardy if they ever go after you with a proceeds of crime investigation.”

“Don't give me that bullshit,” chuckled Rodine. “You're saving yourself from paying taxes.”

“Okay, so our partnership is of a mutual benefit. Besides, you're a fine one to talk about paying taxes. At least I pay some.”

“I would pay taxes, but I'm still waiting for my T-4s to arrive.”

The conversation ended in laughter. Jack looked at Laura to see what she was thinking. Her smile said it all.

“We better not lose them,” said Jack.

“With the army that Connie has out?” replied Laura. “They better not. Too bad we can't tell her what we heard.”

“Let her worry. I told her this case would take time.”

“As long as it's not us doing time,” shot back Laura, with a nod toward the recorder in Jack's hand.

The surveillance team followed Rodine and Venice to an older home in Burnaby. As the surveillance team waited, Connie got in the back seat of Jack and Laura's car.

“Figure he might have a lab in there?” asked Connie.

“Time will tell,” replied Jack.

Over the next couple of hours, numerous people showed up and most were carrying in cases of beer and liquor.

“Celebrating his court case,” said Jack. “He won't have a lab in there.”

“Christ, we need something,” said Connie. “You think we'd make a green light sooner or later. I'm getting sick of all these dead ends. What if he's not even in the meth business anymore? Then what the hell —”

“Trust me,” said Jack. “He's still in business.”

“You sound very confident,” said Connie, leaning forward in an attempt to see Jack's face.

“Guys like this don't quit,” he replied.

“Oh,” she said and sat back in the seat.

Over the next couple of hours a few more people arrived, but from the licence plates gathered, most appeared to be petty criminals or small-time drug traffickers.

At midnight Connie looked at her watch and said, “Guess there is no sense wasting manpower. I think I should call it off. With all the booze going in there, I bet he sleeps the day away tomorrow. I've still got a court brief I have to study tonight for a trial tomorrow morning. Maybe we can sit on Rodine again tomorrow night or the next day.”

“Uh … I've known some of these guys to be early risers,” said Jack.

“Really?” replied Connie. “Most of the criminals I know sleep until at least noon. What are you trying to pull?” she asked suspiciously. “Hoping to gaff a bunch of overtime?”

“No, I'm serious,” replied Jack. “With labs, sometimes certain chemicals have to be added at specific times. I think we should stay on him for at least forty-eight hours straight.”