Loose Ends (30 page)

“You're a policeman, aren't you? I'd just love it if you would show me your gun. I'm home now, all alone, or would you like me to come —”

“Listen! Whoever you are, never phone me again!” Wigmore slammed the receiver down.

Seconds later the man called back.

“Hi, big boy! As you can see, I don't take no for an answer. I live in the pink house across from the Oceanside. I think it would be just divine if —”

Wigmore roared into the phone, “You fucking fag! You don't know who you're messin' with! Now I know where you live! You bother me anymore, and so help me, I'll take my gun and ram it up your ass and pull the trigger! That's after I rip your face off and shove it up your ass too!”

Louie Grazia sat at his desk and slurped his morning coffee as he listened to Wizard and Rolly talk on the tape. When it ended he sat with pursed lips, staring across his desk at Jack and Danny.

“What do you think?” asked Danny, feeling uneasy.

Louie stared hard at Jack. “I take it they tried to kill you behind the Black Water when Danny told me you had gone fishing?”

“It wasn't all that serious. Danny was right there to cover my ass.”

“Yeah, right,” replied Louie sarcastically. “It wasn't too serious. That's when you didn't come to the office for a few days. Which means you got hurt!”

Jack nodded.

“I knew it! Goddamn it, I knew it! You could have told me, instead of keeping me worried about what the hell you were both up to!”

“It was my idea not to tell,” said Jack. “If you know about it and I screw up, then you're in trouble too.”

“You still should have told me,” he said, harshly. “So tell me,” he continued, his voice softening a little, “how close did they come?”

“It was close,” admitted Jack. “Got my arm drilled and needed a few stitches from a cut on my back, but —”

“Jesus Christ! You were shot?”

“As they say in the movies, it was just a flesh wound. Nothing serious. Finding out who pulled the trigger on Maggie and Ben Junior … it was worth it.” Jack paused and his face became angry and red. “Now we need to find out who ordered them to do it.”

“Have you told your sister and her husband?”

Jack shook his head. “I won't until it's over. When I find The Suit. Then it will be over.”

“You've done more than enough already. No evidence to arrest, but at least we can point Homicide in the right direction.”

“Homicide? Who's talking Homicide? It'll be over when Wizard, Rolly, and The Suit are buried! Not left to some —”

“Damn it, Jack! Cool it! I don't want to hear that kind of talk. You're on an Intelligence Unit. Try using some! You've gone way beyond what you were allowed. Back off. Give Homicide a chance!”

Jack locked eyes with Louie for a moment, then quietly said, “I apologize. You're right. I was just letting off steam.”

Jack sounded calm. Too calm, thought Louie. It was the demeanour that a professional would use.
A professional killer.

“The problem is,” Jack continued, “we don't know who the leak is. It could be someone in Homicide. Letting others know means jeopardizing our source, and it could also tip off the leak so that we never find him.”

“Any ideas who that is?” Louie asked.

“I was inclined to think it came from one of the City narcs, but that was just my own bias. I didn't want to think it was one of ours. The narcs talked to our Homicide Unit about Lenny and me, or Eddy Trimble, each time before things got hot.”

“You think the leak is from Homicide?” asked Louie.

“It's the secret identity that makes me wonder. City narcs don't usually wear suits. Homicide do.”

“It could be someone higher up in City. Their bosses wear suits, including Ted Nash.”

“So do our bosses. Finding out may not be easy, but I will,” said Jack with bitter determination.

“What did that kid … Marcie … say The Suit looked like?”

“She didn't see his face, but described him as slim, with collar-length dark wavy hair.”

“Doesn't help much. That fits you. What about CC? Do you trust her?”

“As far as I would trust most cops, why?”

“You know she's not the leak. Tell her that a reliable source said that Wizard and Rolly murdered the kids on instruction from someone who is leaking information. Tell her that they also killed Lenny and tried to kill someone by the name of Eddy Trimble. If that isn't enough to get a wiretap, mention that they're also responsible for running a speed connection out of Montreal. Maybe it will lead to The Suit. If she needs a partner, tell her to make sure it's someone chubby who she trusts completely.”

“These guys would never contact The Suit from their home phones.”

“I agree, but maybe Homicide could get a room bug in or something. Maybe bug their cars. It wouldn't hurt.”

“These guys don't talk inside and they change cars like you change shirts.”

“What have you got to lose? Wizard and Rolly already know that you're on to them.”

“It wouldn't hurt, except I'm not supposed to be involved in this.” Jack glanced at Danny before continuing. “Wigmore is acting kinky. If I start ducking questions from CC or anyone about who Eddy Trimble is, it won't be good. Especially if CC does end up bringing the City narcs on board.”

Louie nodded that he understood, then said, “Danny, you pass on the information and take responsibility for any questions or meetings. No need for them to know who Trimble really is. This is only Tuesday. If CC hustles her ass, she could have wire on by early next week.”

Danny squirmed in his chair, then said, “I guess that's not lying.”

“You're not lying,” said Louie. “You're just not disclosing everything.”

“What about Axle and Nails?” asked Danny. “They killed Crystal.”

“That's a card we could use later. See how this plays out first. We don't have the manpower to be everywhere at once. Concentrate on Wizard and Rolly. They're the ones who want to kill Jack. If they make a move we need to know immediately!”

“Understood,” said Danny.

Louie pointed his finger at Jack and said, “You stay in the background! Especially where Wizard and Rolly are concerned! We're going to have to figure out a way to cover your ass and make sure —”

“I've thought of that. I told our friend to tell them that we'll be out of town for a while. That
should give us breathing room enough for us to find out who The Suit is.”

“And how do you expect to do that?” asked Louie.

“You're right about running wire. When it's on, we'll run surveillance on Wizard and Rolly. I'll get our friend to meet them and say he just heard from me that I found out who The Suit is. With luck, they'll either panic and say something, or they'll go warn him and we'll follow them and find out.”

“And if Wizard and Rolly decide to find you first?”

“We rattled their chains good last night. They'll be so paranoid that they'll be looking over their shoulders at everyone. We'll lie low the rest of this week. Give them a little time to cool off and for CC to get the wire up and running. Then do it. Once we find out who The Suit is, I'll arrange for Wizard and Rolly to find me. I'll pick the time and place.”

Louie shook his head. “That's not a good idea.”

“Don't worry. When the time comes, I'll make sure that both you and Danny get an invitation. It will be a formal affair. Dress in black and bring sniper rifles.”

“Damn it, Jack! That's not —”

“Hey, Louie! Lighten up! I'm just joking.”

Louie looked at Jack's eyes. Jack stared back and didn't blink. He was supposed to think Jack was telling the truth. He knew better.

Later that afternoon, Wigmore was putting his work away when his telephone rang.

“Superintendent Wigmore,” the young woman said, “my name is Linda. Are you Jack Taggart's boss?”

“Indirectly. What can I do for you?”

“I used to go out with Jack, but he doesn't think I'm good enough for him now.”

“I'm sorry, miss, but I'm not responsible for personal issues that —”

“I understand that! But he shouldn't be allowed to break the law, even if he is a cop.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, when we were going together, he once told me about something he did to some big-time bank robber. A Frenchman, I think.”

Wigmore gripped the receiver and reached for a pad of paper. “What did he say?”

The woman paused, then said, “I don't like discussing
this on the phone. Would it be okay if I met you? I could be there in two hours, say 6:15.”

“Please do! Just come to the front counter and ask for me. I'll wait.”

“But what if Jack comes in? I don't want him to know. Maybe this isn't a good idea….”

“Do you want to meet someplace else?”

“I'd still feel safer at your office. Do I have to come to the main entrance?”

Wigmore paused, then said, “No, you don't. Come to the fire escape door at the rear of the building. I'll let you in and sneak you up the back stairs. Nobody will see you, I promise.”

“Well … that sounds okay. I'll be there at 6:15 sharp.”

At six o'clock Wigmore called the Communications Office. He told them to ignore the alarm system at the back door at 6:15 while he let in a “special person.”

At 6:05 the woman called Wigmore again. She would be just a couple of minutes late and would call him from her cellphone when she reached the parking lot.

A young man in Communications watched the security camera as the woman approached the rear of the building. Her wide-brimmed hat hid her face, but her tight suit jacket and skirt revealed a good figure with long legs. Her blouse was pinned at her neck by a broach. He glanced at his watch. It was 6:15. She was right on time. The alarm buzzed briefly indicating that the fire escape door had been opened. He watched the camera as the woman stepped inside, and then he reset the alarm.

Wigmore received another call from the woman at 6:30. She sounded scared. She said that she was about to walk across the parking lot when she saw Jack Taggart drive away. She wanted to wait an hour to make sure that it was safe before coming in. Wigmore glanced at his watch and reluctantly agreed to await her next call.

At 7:25 the security alarm notified the Communications Office of another breach at the back door. The young man watched as the same woman left the building. She carried her suit jacket loosely over her shoulder, and her blouse was unbuttoned enough to show her cleavage. She did a little pirouette in the parking lot, swinging her purse in an arc around herself, then staggered before regaining her footing and walking away. Yes, she looked like a “special person.”

Moments later, Wigmore grabbed his telephone on the first ring. The woman said that she was tired and didn't want to meet him tonight. Maybe some other time.

The security tape in the Communications Office recorded that Wigmore left through the front door of the building at 7:35 p.m.

Jack put his binoculars on the dashboard and smiled. Tiffany let out a squeal, so Jack picked her up. “It's okay, sweet pea, Mommy will be here in a minute.”

It was not yet seven o'clock in the morning when Assistant Commissioner Isaac arrived at work. As usual, he was well ahead of the rest of his office staff. He didn't need to pull back the drapes to know the sanctuary of his office had been violated. The smell of Scotch permeated every corner of the room. A large, wet stain spread out from an empty bottle of Glennfiddich that was lying on the carpet, along with the picture of his wife, his bible, his pen set, and his brass business card holder. His business cards lay scattered across the carpet.

Isaac also didn't need to look at the brassiere hanging from the horn of the stuffed buffalo head to figure out what had taken place on his desk.

Isaac made two telephone calls. The first was to Internal Affairs. “You find them!” seethed Isaac. “I want to know who's responsible for this! And I want to know now!”

His second call was to a carpet-cleaning company.

Two hours later, the Identification Section announced that they had found fingerprints on the empty bottle of Scotch.

Late that afternoon, Wigmore fidgeted with his hands as he entered Isaac's office. He denied being responsible. He denied knowing the woman on the tape of the security camera. Yes, he had received a call from someone, and yes he had called Communications, telling them to ignore the alarm. Yes, he drank Scotch. No, he didn't have a drinking problem. Yes, he could explain how the bottle with his prints got there. He was framed by Jack Taggart!

Isaac listened to Wigmore's raspy voice plead his innocence and wondered if it was a set-up. After all, a commissioned officer … it just didn't seem possible. And the brassiere hanging from the buffalo's horn … it did seem like overkill. He told Wigmore, who was begging for a chance to take the polygraph, that he would accommodate his request before the week was over.

It was 10:30 p.m. when Danny called Wigmore at home. Wigmore was furious but listened to Danny's plea that he didn't know anything about Jack framing him. Wigmore said that he was looking forward to seeing Danny in person. The Oceanside, in one hour!

It was 11:45 when Jack and Danny parked with Susan and Tiffany at a payphone near the office, about a forty-minute drive from the Oceanside Lounge. Susan used the payphone to place her call.

“Oceanside Lounge,” said the bartender.

“Yes,” purred Susan. “Is Marvin Wigmore in there? Big guy, brush-cut, drinks Scotch.”

“Yes, he is.”

“Tell him I left my bra in his office and I want it back.”

The bartended suppressed a snicker and said, “I think you better tell him that yourself. Hang on.” Susan heard the bartender shout, “Mr. Wigmore! Telephone!”