Loose Ends. Don Easton
don’t relish it?” said Wigmore, pounding his fist on the desk. His chair bashed against the wall as he stood and jabbed his finger into Danny’s chest and said, “I bet you relish having a job to support your wife and baby girl, don’t you, O’Reilly?”
Danny cringed back in his chair and said, “Yes, sir.”
Wigmore slowly sat down and said, “Good.” His voice softened and he said, “As policemen, we all have to do things we don’t like sometimes. It’s part of the job. Just make sure you do your job and I’ll see to it that you’re looked after.”
“Yes, sir.”
“In the future, don’t go through my receptionist. I don’t want any leaks on this matter or anyone to suspect you’re talking to me. You’re to report to me at home,” he said, handing Danny a slip of paper with his telephone number. “I expect a report, say, every Monday night around eight. Call me more often if you think you should. If we need to meet in person, there’s a place near my apartment called the Oceanside Lounge. The address is in the phone book.”
Wigmore glanced at his door. Danny caught the cue and started to leave.
“Oh, O’Reilly! One more thing.” Wigmore waited until Danny turned to face him. “Welcome to Vancouver.” Wigmore gave him what he thought was a reassuring smile.
Wigmore’s smile became genuine after Danny left. Child pornography. It’s time for Taggart to go. He’s too dangerous. A loose cannon.
Jack stared down at the two small caskets holding Maggie and Ben Junior. Mourners dropped handfuls of earth onto the caskets. He took two envelopes from his suit jacket.
Inside a nearby van, CC watched with binoculars. “What’s Taggart up to?”
Her partner, Charlie Wells, grabbed his own binoculars. “He’s taking something out of an envelope … looks like paper fish. He’s dropping one in each grave.”
Jack dropped the cutout of a paper shark. It fell quickly to the earth in Ben Junior’s grave. The cutout of a sunfish that he dropped on Maggie’s casket made a slight thud. The bullet folded in the fish bounced off the side of the coffin.
chapter five
Jack booked the rest of the week off, but the day after the funeral he called CC.
“Anything?”
“Jack, if we make an arrest, I’ll give you a call. Until then, let me do my job.”
“Any leads?”
CC sighed. “Not much. But who knows. It’s too soon yet.”
“What about the powder on the counter?”
“You were right on that. It analyzed as methamphetamine.”
“That’s good! Every chemist who makes meth leaves what amounts to their own chemical signature in it. The lab can cross-match different samples and you might get a match to identify where it originated from.”
“Damn it, Jack. Butt out! Lucy at the lab just explained all that to me.”
“So you’ve put word out to turn in meth samples so the lab can cross-match with —”
“I was going to do that, but instead I’m talking to you! Get the picture?”
Jack allowed himself a glimmer of hope as he hung up. He had his own plan. He called the toxicology department in the crime lab. Lucy was one of the good guys. She would help.
Luigi Grazia was in charge of the Intelligence Section that Danny was assigned to. He was fifty-four years old, and with his greased-back hair, swarthy complexion, and pinstriped suit, he could have passed for a gangster in a B movie. Before he became a desk jockey, he’d had a reputation for solving difficult problems. Some said he was lucky. The fact was, he was cunning.
“Welcome to the section,” said Grazia in a gruff voice. “Everyone calls me Louie.”
Danny was conscious of Louie’s penetrating eyes as they shook hands.
Louie told him he would be sharing an office with Jack Taggart, who would be his immediate supervisor. Danny was glad Jack was off for a week. He wasn’t looking forward to shaking hands with his new partner. He discovered, however, that waiting was worse.
Danny reviewed the reports that Jack had recently submitted on an international child pornography ring. When he finished those, he spent the rest of the week reading reports on past investigations about organizations involved in extortion, stolen-auto rings, prostitution, contract murders, drug trafficking, armored car holdups, and more. Louie told him to think of it as a history lesson.
The weekend would have been a good chance for Danny to unpack the many moving boxes that were still piled in his living room, but he felt listless and tired.
“Monday tomorrow,” Susan commented over their morning coffee.
Danny’s blank expression told her that he wasn’t listening.
“What’s wrong, honey? You acted thrilled when you first told me you were being transferred to Intelligence. But ever since you started you’ve been really quiet. You act like the cat that swallowed the mouse. What gives?”
“I’m just tired. I’ve done a lot of reading this week.”
“Tired? I can’t remember the last time you worked a week of straight day shifts. I think your new job seems great!”
“Maybe I’m not used to it.” He forced a smile.
“Maybe things will be different tomorrow when you meet your new partner.”
Danny chose to bite a piece of toast.
“Hope he’s someone you like. It’s too bad about his niece and nephew.”
Danny took another bite.
“You said he was single; maybe you should invite him over for dinner sometime.”
Danny was grateful that at that moment Tiffany started to cry from her crib. He left to pick her up.
It was noon when Jack woke up. He was still groggy when he answered his telephone.
“Hi, handsome.”
Jack was instantly awake. He recognized Lucy’s voice. He held his breath.
“You sound like you were sleeping,” Lucy said. “I worked all weekend.”
“Not as late as I did. Come on, Lucy! You wouldn’t call me at home unless you had something.”
“I’ve got good news and bad news.”
“One of the samples I brought in matched?”
“No. None of those three matched. You know, I only had about one-tenth of a gram to work with from the murder scene. But it’s close enough that I’ll call these a match. I sent a request to all the labs across the country. We got lucky. Four matches. Three out of Quebec and one from Vancouver.”
“All made by the same cook?” asked Jack.
“The same chemist brewed all four, or, with what was recovered at the murder scene, I should say all five.”
Jack wondered if his heartbeat could be heard over the phone. “Were any of the seizures high-level busts?”
“Two of the Quebec seizures were at the pound level. Both apparently seized from dealers who are known associates of Satans Wrath.”
“Satans Wrath! What about the Vancouver seizure?”
“That’s the bad news. It was less than a gram. Turned in by a Vancouver beat cop. I talked to the guy. It was night and he took a stroll with his partner down some alley on East Hastings. A woman panicked when she saw them coming and chucked it. Probably a hooker. They never