The Filthy Few: A Steve Nastos Mystery (11 page)

He turned north on Jarvis when the light changed. Vince quickly fabricated a plausible action plan for Christian's benefit. “We ruin them financially
then
release the video, then kill them. Your dad will be proud. I'm going to buy myself a condo in Florida on the backs of our newly acquired franchise players while we force them to find the whore for us. This is the big show, kid. You up for it?”

13

Nastos had forgotten how uncomfortable the spin van was while he and Carscadden were immersed in the drama occurring at BMO Field. He nudged Carscadden away from his cellphone. “And here comes our guy, out with the bag, going the opposite way from Morrison. And he's not freaking out like Morrison. He's as cool as anything.” He put the binoculars down and turned to Carscadden, “You said you got the plate?”

Carscadden held up the camera and scrolled back a few images. “Clear as day.”

Nastos checked the phone screen. “See, there's no dealership border around the plate.” He zoomed out and checked the entire rear of the
SUV
. “And see? No logo there either.”

“So?”

“They're driving a brand-new vehicle, with no dealership markings, what does that tell you? It's a rental car, a fleet vehicle. Running the plate will only get us halfway. After that we have to go to a corporation and hope they co-operate or we're screwed.”

“Umm.”

“This changes everything. The cops are working for someone,” Nastos said. “It's gonna take time to find out who.”

Carscadden didn't reply, like he was trying to sort it out in his mind.

“Looks like the Toronto Police Service hired some organized crime members.” For some reason the explanation didn't feel quite right. “Or it's an extortion gig.” Again, Nastos couldn't be sure without more information.

Carscadden took his phone back. “Either way it's organized crime. Who else would have the balls to go after cops?”

“Yeah.” Nastos went through the options. “Bikers, mafia, something new.”

Nastos put his seat belt on and started the van. “Let's go. Our boys have to get to work soon and those printouts with their name and address can only tell us so much. Let's go to their houses, speak to the people they live with and see what else we can learn about them. We'll make it obvious that they're in trouble. It'll turn the heat up at home and make them feel more desperate for help when we swoop in to become their new best friends.”

“Shouldn't we follow these guys?”

“These new guys are ghosts. They don't exist on paper, guaranteed. If we lose sight of them they disappear forever.” Nastos tightened his grip on the wheel then leaned forward and started the ignition. “They are pros, and if they notice us we're screwed. They'd be more vigilant now that they have the money on board.”

When the
SUV
began to drive Nastos started after it. “We can find what hotel they are staying at and follow up with them tomorrow.”

“Then we go to the cops' houses. Why do I think it won't be quite that easy?”

They parked outside a middle-class single-family bungalow in the suburbs of Etobicoke near the 401 and Highway 427. Nastos noticed the lawn was trampled bare and the wooden fence needed some stain. The front door was original, the windows redone maybe fifteen years ago. Nastos stopped mid-observation when he realized what he was doing. As a real estate agent, Madeleine had dragged him and Josie to the occasional viewing or open houses for a quick peek at properties. While he kept work to himself, she was all about shop talk, deals, steals, scam and drama. She would have been able to calculate square footage, give a good estimate of the property taxes and appraisal value on just what he could report to her from the roadside. She was obsessed with houses. He smiled, feeling her presence, only for the smile to disappear and for him to suddenly feel utterly alone.

Carscadden jerked him back to the present. “You done daydreaming?” He flipped through the printouts that Jacques had made from the two cops' personnel files, for some reason dissatisfied with what he had read.

Nastos said, “Yeah, let's do this.”

Carscadden opened his door, getting out and stretching.

Weeds grew up from between the pavers of the interlocking walkway. The front stoop was a level cement slab. Nastos rang the bell and pounded the door.

“Still have the cop-knock.”

“Thanks.” Nastos impatiently peered through the glass. “Someone's coming.”

The door opened an inch and a blond woman peeked out. “We're not interested.”

The door started to close again but paused when Nastos said, “We work with Radix, it's okay.”

The gap that the young woman spied through grew larger. “Is he hurt?”

Carscadden said, “No, sorry. No, it's nothing like that.”

The door opened to reveal a nearly naked young woman standing there. She was in her twenties, long hair, wearing shorts and a grey fleece football shirt that had been cut to reveal her six-pack abs and a slit in the neck line so she could force it over her breasts. Carscadden inadvertently stared at her cleavage before getting himself under control.

Nastos took a step sideways to make eye contact with her. “We're with Professional Standards, we just need a quick word with you.”

She glanced from Nastos to Carscadden then hesitantly opened the door. “Sure thing. Come on in.”

Nastos noted the black cycling shorts that didn't leave much for the imagination. “So just the two of you live here?”

She led them through a foyer to a sitting room. Black leather couches, a fifty-inch plasma screen, dark wooden end tables. “Yeah. Just the two of us.”

She wasn't shy. She sat on the couch cross-legged, barely three in the afternoon and she was drinking a tall vodka and orange out of an Argos mug. “So what is it? Is he in trouble?” she waved a hand for them to sit down.

Carscadden sat on the far end of the couch. Nastos stood for a moment. He took out a notebook, trying to avoid eye contact at first. “Oh, no. See, he's looking at getting into a specialty unit and we just do a quick background check. These types of things are tough on families so we like to see he has a good support system at home. My name is Greg Price and this is my partner, Tony Gerrard.”

“Tanya Pike.” She took a sip of her vodka. Nastos glanced around the room. There were a few policing books, one on search warrants, one on interviewing. There were pictures of Radix with various cops, at his police college graduation, some at the bar with drinking buddies, another with this woman wearing a cheerleader outfit. He picked the picture up from the table.

“Are you an Argos Girl?”

“Yeah, three years. It's the busy time right now.”

The picture was taken on the field. Radix had his arms wrapped around her waist, her arms were around his neck. Any similar pictures Nastos had of himself and Madeleine had been put away. He set the frame down and opened his notebook. “So you and Radix have dated for a while then.”

“A year.”

“It's a nice place here. Did he own it before you moved in?”

Tanya adjusted herself on the couch. “Actually it's mine. My dad helped me out. My dad was pissed when a guy moved in here. He didn't want me to lose the house in case we split up. Radix offered to sign some papers with Dad's lawyer. Ever since then Dad's been cool with it.”

She finished off her drink. Nastos scratched a few notes in his book. “And what about his parents, how do you get along with them?”

Tanya's face crinkled up. “They're dead. Don't you know that?”

Nastos paused. “No, I didn't know that. I haven't read his personnel file. This is just for the job position he's being considered for.”

“Yeah, well, they both died three years ago. In that car crash? The cops were pursuing a drug dealer in a stolen car and he crashed into their
SUV
at Lawrence and Midland. It was on the news.”

Nastos thought back but couldn't recall ever knowing about it. “So I guess he's not exactly a fan of drug dealers.”

“No. Ever since his parents died, it's like . . . You know, it's what inspired him to be a cop. He loved the camaraderie with the guys, he loved hanging out after work. But deep down, all he thinks about is getting in a unit so he can make a difference.”

Carscadden baited her, “Like a revenge thing?”

“No. Like so what happened to him, losing his parents, never has to happen to anyone else.”

Nastos noted her body language. She was sincere. He nodded to himself. Radix seemed like a decent guy. There was a sound from the back room. Both Nastos and Carscadden turned to see a young woman, emerging from the hallway wearing only a bed sheet. She was Asian, her thin black hair a mess. She froze with a guilty smile on her face when she saw the strangers. “Sorry, Tan, I thought you were talking to your man.”

“No, he left for work early.”

“Too bad. I was hoping we could get him in the shower again.”

14

Nastos and Carscadden sat at the bar in Frankie's Restaurant. At this hour it was dimly lit, mostly by candlelight. Mahogany, glass, soft music. And Viktor hired only beautiful people who wore all black and faded into the shadows unless called upon. Frankie's had been voted the best Italian food in the city in
Toronto Living
magazine four years running but instead of becoming pretentious or uptight Viktor encouraged the opposite in his staff. They were relaxed and smiling for anyone who came in.

Nastos observed Carscadden through the mirror opposite fiddling with his BlackBerry. Nastos took a long slug from his Corona. “You should try putting that thing away for a solid two minutes. Spend some time in the real world.”

Carscadden smiled, not looking away from the tiny screen. “My mom follows me on Twitter. Letting her know what's up.” Eventually he put it down on the bar next to his Stella. “There, happy?”

I hope he's kidding about his mom and Twitter.
“Perfectly.” Nastos finished the bottle.

“No, seriously,” Carscadden asked. “You happy?”

Nastos had no time for such an irrelevant conversation. There was nothing Carscadden or anyone could do about his happiness. “I'd be a lot happier if the person inside Morrison's place had answered the door. I'd also be happier if I hated these two cops. It would make what we have to do next a lot easier.”

Carscadden picked up a slice of rye bread from the basket and dipped it in the balsamic vinegar. “Yeah, tell me about it. Radix is my hero. Banging two Argos girls. And he's dedicated to taking down drug dealers because they killed his parents. It's pretty tough to want to turn him in as a murderer.”

Nastos considered having another beer but decided against it. He glanced over at the table. Mills and his girlfriend, Liz, were there. Josie sat next to Monika Styles. Hopkins had gotten Josie all dressed up. She looked like such a big girl for nine, with her hair done and wearing an evening dress.

Carscadden continued, “I don't know the deal on Morrison, but there's no way in hell these guys are ruthless murderers. Whatever mistakes the cops have made, it's all on those guys following them.”

“Yeah, exactly. I can't wait to see what their story is. I wasn't too surprised when it came back to a rental company. Tomorrow, first thing, we go to Express Rentals and see what they have to tell us.”

Nastos finished his beer then used the bottle to point toward the table where their friends sat. “Hopkins did a great job of making herself look beautiful.”

“Doesn't take much.”

“Didn't say it did.”

Carscadden held his beer out and Nastos clinked it with his empty.

“So Mills, he setting you up with Styles?”

“I hope not. He said this was just a friendly get-together, to help her meet a few people.”

“She's smart and attractive. You think a girl like that needs help from a psychologist to meet people? I think he did this for you, to get you out of the house.”

Nastos didn't know how to answer. Carscadden, a borderline alcoholic, was the kind of guy who actually became more clear-headed for the first few drinks. “You need another beer?”

“No, thanks. And we should get over there. I'm done with shop talk.”

Nastos gave one last thought to the people he had come across over the past few days then put it to rest. “Good idea.”

“You know, Mills knows how to push your buttons. He made it sound like you were doing the damsel in distress a favour to con you into this tonight.” Carscadden smiled and stood, placing his empty on the shelf on the inside of the bar. “And you fell for it because you're a chump.”

Nastos eyed Mills. He still had the scruff on his face, wearing an expensive suit at a table full of beautiful women. Styles had never given any signals of interest
. Reading my file over, if she was even remotely interested in me, would have been enough to scare her off anyways.
She sat leaning forward, her hands wrapped around a glass of red wine. Josie was watching her like at any moment she would do magic.

Nastos observed, “She's not sexy-hot like Hopkins is. Hopkins seems more, I dunno,
forward,
maybe.”

“Tell me about it. Our second date she almost raped me. Said I was too stupid to figure out that she was giving me the signals.”

“You were.”

“I know that now.”

“Styles is more, I guess, balanced. Maddy could get uptight sometimes. Styles is more in the middle of the three. You know they say opposites attract but I don't know. I think that in some basic ways you want to be totally compatible. Maybe one should be better with doing brake jobs or picking paint colours, but I think with things like how you handle affection or finances, you should be on the same track.”

Carscadden gulped down a few more bites of bread. “I hope that doesn't ruin my appetite for dinner.”

“Your appetite couldn't be ruined by a gunshot wound.”

Carscadden smiled. “Well, are we gonna sit here the rest of the night or are we gonna head over and be sociable?”

They moved to the table and sat, Nastos beside Styles and Carscadden between Josie and Hopkins.

Mills asked, “You guys solve the murder yet?”

Carscadden replied, “Solving the murder isn't the hard part. It's chasing down the witnesses.”

Nastos shook his head at Carscadden parroting what Jacques had said earlier. “Sorry about the shop talk. We're done now.” He took a drink of water. “So Monika, is poor Josie going to have to stay up past her bedtime to hear you play the piano?”

Monika's eyes shot wide open. “What? Who told you I play?” She had a Ph.D. It didn't take her long to send a scowl at Mills, who shrugged a reply.

“It slipped out.” Mills laughed. “Come on. One song. It's not even busy or anything.”

She exhaled and said something under her breath that might have been “I'm gonna regret this.” She finished off her glass of wine in one swig to forge some courage. Hopkins quickly refilled half the glass before Monika noticed.

Josie piped up, “Don't be nervous. You'll do fine.”

Styles took another sip from her glass then stood. She reached a hand out to Josie. “Here, keep me company.” Josie looked at her dad as if to ask
Is she serious?

“Go,” Nastos said. “But don't touch anything.”

Josie jumped up and followed Styles to the piano at the back of the restaurant.

Carscadden said to Nastos, “Dim the lights for her.”

“No,” he replied. “Let her just sneak in and out for a song. I don't want people to expect a big show and wonder what the deal is when she leaves.”

The baby grand piano was usually kept behind the curtain at the back for the occasions that a performer was coming. Earlier in the day Viktor had opened the curtain and wheeled it out to a more prominent position at Nastos' request.

Monika rested her glass on the top of the piano. Josie sat on the bench and Monika joined her. Viktor had a piano tuner in once every few months. Monika pressed the pedals, played gently on a few keys, sounding out a few chords and progressions. She found the piano in perfect tune. The action on the keys was balanced and the pedals were smooth with measured tension.

She started quietly at first, getting the melody. Josie was excited but there was no way she would have known the song. Styles played and sang Sarah McLachlan's “I Will Remember You.” No microphone, no synthesizer, no warm-up. Maybe out of nervousness, she sang most of it to Josie, who wouldn't understand the lyrics but might understand the non-verbal message. Monika was giving all of her attention in an intimate way and Josie was enraptured. By the time she finished the song there wasn't a single clink from cutlery in the restaurant. No one was moving. The wait staff sat silently at the bar, the busboy stood still with a white bin full of clean glasses in the threshold between the kitchen and the seating area.

Hopkins said “That was beautiful” to no one in particular.

Mills took a slug of his beer. “It's personal to her. Her mom taught her. Playing in public was a big step for her, so I hope you mention something if you get a chance.”

Styles stood to reach her glass of wine and someone at front called out, “Play one more.”

She sang two more songs, but it was the line in “I Will Remember You,”
about not being able to sleep and having feelings too deep to express in words, that Nastos had found himself singing along to. He fell silent afterward, feeling something about it resonate with him.

She stood from the table, blushing at the applause, one hand squeezing Josie's and the other wrapped around her now-empty glass of wine. She walked back to the table and sat down next to Nastos, Josie still glued to her.

“Dad, did you hear that?”

Nastos moved a chair back for Josie, who slid onto the chair and cuddled up next to him. To Styles, he said, “I've never in my life seen anyone just get up and do a performance of that quality. Do you practice twelve hours a day or are you just that good?”

“It wasn't anything special.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Carscadden said. “Next time take a tip jar.”

Josie's eyes brightened and Nastos turned to see Viktor walking up behind him.

“Uncle Viktor, did you hear Monika?” Josie jumped to her feet and ran around the table to give him a hug.

He crouched down, swooping her up. “Yeah, she should come here and play more often.” To Monika he said, “Let me know if you ever want to come back, we'll put you on the payroll.” Before she could answer he said to Josie, “You have to help me, Jo. We're having trouble with the fridge and the ice cream will melt — I don't want it to go to waste.”

She turned to Nastos. “Dad, can I?”

“Josie, try to save some for the rest of the planet.”

Nastos knew coming in that Viktor would sabotage any diet control and had decided to let her enjoy the late night. She would just burn it all off anyways. And if she was up too late, she could even miss the day at school tomorrow. It wouldn't matter much. She could hang out at the office with Hopkins, while he and Carscadden worked the case. Hopkins wouldn't mind the company.

He looked around the table, the smiling faces, laughing, the company of his friends. Maybe it was the beer or something else he couldn't explain, but he was beginning to feel better.

“Karen.” Carscadden stood up abruptly, extending his hand.

Nastos twisted in place to see Karen standing behind him. She looked
too
happy and Nastos was beginning to get an idea that the perfect evening was over.

“Thanks for the invite.” Nastos noted her sarcasm. She was wearing an expensive dress, her hair was done, lipstick. She had spent time getting ready. “I saw your car so I thought I'd swing by.” She examined everyone at the table, stopping at Monika. “Hi, I'm Karen. I used to work with Steve.”

Monika extended her hand. “Nice to meet you. I'm Monika Styles.”

Karen didn't take the offer. She put her hands on her hips. “So you're his date, eh?” She turned to Nastos. “I thought you would have given me a call if you were looking for a one-night thrill ride. She looks too uptight.” Karen kept her smile as if she wanted it to be taken as a joke.

Nastos shared an awkward glance with Carscadden, who clearly saw that Karen was about ten seconds away from boiling a rabbit. At first he was speechless. She had been his partner for years, a woman he had spent more hours with on a daily basis than his wife. He glanced at Monika to apologize but no words came out.

Hopkins stood and squeezed Nastos' elbow. “Excuse me.” She walked up to Karen. “Listen. Nastos might be too polite to tell you to go screw yourself in polite company but I'm not.”

Karen turned on her. “And who the hell —”

Hopkins brought her right hand back and clenched it into a fist but Carscadden grabbed her before she threw it.

Nastos took Karen by the arm. “You're out of here.” He led her to the door. She reluctantly accompanied him, a smug expression on her face, the apparent damage done.

He asked, “Where the hell did that come from?” For the first time he smelled the alcohol wafting from her breath. The playful sparkle in her eyes was growing brighter the angrier he became.

“Good to see I can still get your heart pumping.” She reached out for his belt. “What about the rest of you?”

Quickly he moved her away from him. She giggled when he grabbed her upper arms and kept her back. In a forced, quiet tone he hissed, “Don't ever call me, or contact me ever again.”

“You sure?” Her demeanour changed as they moved away from the table and it just became the two of them. “I know what it's like to feel alone. I respected Madeleine and the choice you made. I never stopped loving you and it was hard to stay away after what happened. But I stayed away.”

Nastos slackened his grip. He saw the hurt in her eyes, the alpha female part of her retreating.

“I'm offering you something deeper, more meaningful than a romp in the sack. You know I'm sincere, you know I've . . . I've loved you for a long time.” She raised her chin as if to accept a kiss, which only made him more angry that he wasn't getting through to her.

He felt more than saw that Mills was coming up behind him. But he didn't want the help. It only made everything more embarrassing than it already was.

“Karen.” He opened the restaurant's front door, holding it ajar with one hand. “Don't ever come back here again, no matter what.”

“I miss seeing you take charge of everything, Nastos. It's like you're the last of the real men. Weren't we good together?”

He guided her out the door. “We were until you decided you wanted more than I wanted to give. Sober up, Karen. I hope you're not planning to drive.”

He closed the door. She stood there a moment then left. She looked back once with a mixed emotion on her face that Nastos couldn't read.