Jack looked at Rolly’s file. “Thirty-seven years old. Convicted for drug trafficking, break and enter, armed robbery, assault causing bodily harm, extortion … a regular pillar of society.”
“He owns an older-style house on a double lot in North Van.”
“Mortgage?”
“Nope. He paid it off one year after moving in. Lists his occupation as a mechanic. Spends two days a week at one of the bike shops owned by the club. He’s been living with some stripper for the last two years.”
“Another boy not smart enough to hide his money.”
Jack then picked up the file on Lance Morgan. “This is interesting: he’s thirty-nine years old and his record is mostly for auto theft, fraud, false pretences, impaired driving, and one charge of trafficking, which was dismissed.”
“He was caught with two kilos of cocaine in a rental vehicle,” Danny explained. “He took the stand and gave the usual story that someone who rented the car previously must have left it in there. The judge said it was enough for reasonable doubt and dismissed the case.”
“He only served a one-month sentence for auto theft, strictly provincial. He’s never seen the inside of a federal pen.”
“He’s still a badass,” said Danny.
“By the looks of his record he’s not as violent as his partners.”
“Or he’s just smarter and hasn’t been caught.”
“I’m looking for someone smarter. What else do you have on him?”
“He’s married to some waitress, and they’ve got four kids. He owns an arcade, and they’ve got a modest home just outside of Vancouver. I think it’s in…”
“Surrey,” said Jack, studying the report.
“Yeah, it’s just an average house with a big mortgage.”
Jack slowly sifted through the file again.
“So? What are you thinking?” asked Danny.
“I want to know more about Lance Morgan. See if he owns any companies or whatever. An arcade is a good business for laundering money. It would be tough to prove how many kids are dropping how many quarters into all those machines. Lance may be a lot smarter than his cohorts. He also has a family. This could be our chance.”
“Our chance to do what?”
The telephone interrupted Jack’s reply.
“All right, Jack! What the hell are you up to?”
“Oh … Louie! How are you?” replied Jack, catching the worried look on Danny’s face.
“Don’t give me that crap! What are you up to?”
“Didn’t Danny tell you? I took a few days off to go fishing.”
“Bullshit! I didn’t say anything to him in case he believed it. But I sure as hell don’t!”
“Well … I’m fishing for bad guys.”
“Jesus, you drive me nuts sometimes. I’ve been listening to the news, reading the papers — even the obituary columns — trying to figure out where you were or what you were up to. I’ve been phoning for two days. If you’ve been down to the States again, so help me I’ll —”
“No, no, Louie! Relax! There’s nothing to worry about. I’ve been spending a lot of time on the street. Only at home to sleep.”
“So everything is okay?” asked Grazia suspiciously.
“You bet.”
“Did you catch any?”
“Catch any?”
“Bad guys. You said you were fishing for bad guys.”
“Had a few nibbles. Nothing solid, but I’ve got a feeling in my bones that we’re on to something.”
Natasha was in a grim mood as she drove home from work that evening. Usually she enjoyed a warm autumn rain. It made her feel cozy when she sat beside her fireplace with a glass of wine. Today was different. The rain only served to accent her feelings of despair, along with a dyspeptic stomach that gnawed at her like a disease.
She had picked up sandwiches at the deli and rushed home at lunchtime, hoping to surprise him, only to find her apartment empty. The ungrateful swine could have at least written a note to say thank you!
She felt the tears well in her eyes as she tried to force her office key into her apartment door. She changed keys, unlocked the door, and stepped inside.
She looked on the counter as if by magic there might be a note, but there was nothing.
But something had changed. She looked again. Her kitchen felt warm, and her stereo was playing quietly in the living room.
“Hi,” Jack said softly, appearing from the living room.
He was clean-shaven and dressed in a navy blue suit accented by a burgundy tie and handkerchief. He held a solitary long-stemmed red rose in his hand.
He looked at her face and dropped the flower on the counter, stepping forward.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Absolutely nothing,” she said, then kissed him and let him hold her tight before pushing him away and picking up the long-stemmed rose. “Is this for me?”
“No, I thought it was Danny coming in.”
She saw the grin on Jack’s face and smiled back. “Where’s your sling?”
“I’m okay as long as I don’t jar it.”
“You can cook?” asked Natasha, while retrieving a vase from her china cabinet.
“I’ve taken a few courses. French, Italian, Thai, but being a one-armed gourmet is something new. My repertoire is small, but I like to think it’s good.”
Natasha noticed that the gas fireplace was on. Her table had already been set, with two new candles alongside her dishes. Romantic music drifted softly through the room. “Give me a minute to change,” she said.
Natasha liked the look on Jack’s face when she reappeared wearing a black chiffon dress, a pearl necklace accenting her long dark hair.
The candles had burned to the bottom by the time dinner was over. Crab-stuffed mushroom caps were followed by a beef roulade accompanied by mushroom gravy. The wine was a pinot noir. It was a good match for the food. The main course was followed by latticed chocolate rum pie. Natasha found the whole meal a sensual experience.
After dinner, Natasha sat on the sofa while Jack went to the kitchen. He appeared moments later carrying a silver tray, upon which were two glasses of flaming liqueur.
“Sambuca,” he said, putting the tray on the coffee table and sitting down.
She moved closer to him on the sofa and watched the rain running down the outside of her patio doors. The glass caught the flickering reflection from the fireplace. The rain seemed beautiful again and gave a feeling of intimacy.
She felt his arm wrap around her bare shoulder, coaxing her body closer. The musky, haunting smell of his cologne aroused her senses. She enjoyed the feel of his warm hand on her shoulder as she snuggled in.
She raised the sambuca to her lips and watched as the clear liquid picked up the light from the fire, shimmering like diamonds. Three coffee beans floating on top glistened below the blue flame dancing above. She marvelled at it for a moment, then caught the shine in Jack’s eyes as he held his glass up, giving a silent toast.
She gave a small breath to blow out the flame and let the licorice flavour of the liqueur explore her mouth before warming its way down her throat. She looked intently