Loose Ends (6 page)

“If I was a fuckin' narc, I'd have already busted ya for the flaps you got on ya.”

Spider stared at him for a moment, then said, “What do ya want? I got everything.”

“Speed.”

Spider held his hand under the table to show Jack a small piece of paper folded in a flap.

Danny threw his tie in the trunk and unbuttoned the top of his shirt, then slid his holster off his belt and strapped on Jack's ankle holster. Minutes later, the door banged shut behind him as he entered the Black Water.

The smell of smoke and stale beer turned his stomach. It was noisy and crowded. He let his eyes adjust to the darkness. There were no windows in the long room, and the cardboard-tiled ceiling, like the walls, had been painted a flat black. A stage in the centre was brightly lit.

In the dim glow at the back of the bar, he saw some pool tables and the silhouettes of several men with cues stalking the tables before executing their shots. At a right angle to the entrance another door opened and he caught a glimpse of the lobby. The rest of the illumination consisted of a few lights recessed in the ceiling, which filtered a yellowish glow through grime.

He saw Jack slouched at a table, talking with a hooker and a short man who was built like a fire hydrant. Beer bottles and cigarette burns decorated the green elastic tablecloth in front of them. Danny strode over to an empty table where he could watch.
What scum.

A waitress came by and Danny ordered a bottle of beer.

She stepped back and looked at his shoes, and then slowly worked her eyes up the rest of his body until she stared into his eyes. “You a cop?”

Danny felt the lump in his throat. “No,” he said, flashing open his sports jacket to show it wasn't concealing a gun.

“This doesn't look like your kind of place.”

“Yeah? Got nowhere else to go. Just lost my job. An hour ago I could've got you a good deal on a '94 Buick. But not now.”

“I can't afford a car.”

He felt more comfortable when the waitress returned with his drink and gave him a friendly smile. He opened his wallet and gave her a generous tip. More generous, he thought, than someone like her deserved.

He didn't see the waitress eyeball the money in his wallet — or the subtle nod she gave to some junkies at the next table.

Jack looked at the dope in Spider's hand and shook his head. “Not worth my while. As I said, I'm in the business too. I'm lookin' for an ounce. If it's good, I'll be lookin' for a lot more.”

“You want a fuckin' ounce just like that! I said I got everything man, but I'm not a fuckin' warehouse!” Spider gave Jack a hard look and said, “I smell a cop!”

“What do ya mean, ya smell a cop?” asked Jack.

Spider looked past Jack and said, “Sittin' by himself over there.”

Jack turned slightly in his chair and saw Danny sitting at a nearby table.
Damn it! If he blows this…
He looked at Spider and said, “That guy looks too straight to be a cop.”

“Maybe.”

“Listen, I'm here to do business.” As Jack spoke, he slowly pulled a wad of cash partway out of his front pocket and then shoved it back in.

Spider sat back in his chair. Jack could see him trying to make a decision. Having seen the money, greed would take over. The waitress came and Jack held up one finger.

Danny toyed with his drink and checked his watch.
About time to call Wigmore.
He saw Jack order another beer and knew that he had time to slip into the lobby and make a call.

Spider saw Danny walk to the lobby, then asked Jack, “So, you want an ounce?”

“Yeah, for now.”

“What makes you think I want the competition?”

“Relax. I'm puttin' out far away from here.”

Spider mulled it over, then said, “Okay. Wait here.”

Jack watched Spider slink over to the next table and talk with a woman. She was big and solid-looking but had no fat. She wore a man's singlet white under-shirt that looked grey. It was stretched tightly over her bare chest. Her black jeans and knee-high leather boots gave her a certain air of hostility. She had long red hair, but judging by the black roots, Jack knew it had been a long time since she had last bothered to dye it. She had “HD” tattooed on one arm and “Live to Ride” tattooed on the other. A tattoo of a rose was visible on the top of her breast.

She gave Jack a long cold stare, then whispered to Spider.

“Fuck, Red, I talked to 'im. He's all right, I tell ya!” Jack heard Spider reply.

Moments later, Spider returned. “Go to the can and wait!”

Jack entered the men's room and stood by the sink. He glanced at the graffiti covering the wall. Much of it
was obliterated with grime. Seconds later, Spider and two junkies entered, and Jack barely had time to look up before the junkies grabbed him by the arms, smashing him back against the wall.

“Hey! What the fuck are —”

Spider clamped his hand over Jack's mouth and said, “Shut your fuckin' trap! This ain't a rip. We're goin' to have a little look-see is all.”

His hand tasted and smelled of smoke and stale beer. He took his hand away and ripped Jack's shirtsleeve back as one of the junkies pinned his wrist to the wall. Spider took a syringe out of his jacket pocket. The syringe was filled to capacity, and Spider hovered the silver tip of the needle over a vein in Jack's elbow. A drop of murky liquid dangled from the tip.

“Don't fuckin' move, man!” hissed Spider. “Don't even try an' breathe! 'Cause if you do, we'll spike you right now. And there's enough in this rig to kill an elephant, let alone a pig!”

Danny checked to make sure the lobby was empty, then he called Wigmore.

“You think he's trying to buy dope where?” Wigmore asked.

Danny repeated the name. “The Black Water Hotel. On a street called East Hastings.”

“Bingo! I spoke with GIS today. They said that some drug found in an alley off East Hastings matched the same drug found at the murder scene. I knew Taggart would get involved. I might recommend he be charged with obstruction!”

“Sir? What should I do?”

“Continue to play along. Give him some more time, or I should say rope, to hang himself. Make sure you
make notes that he went in there alone and left his gun in the car.”

“Already done, sir.” Danny hung up the phone and let out a deep breath. He realized that he had a headache. He made another call.

“Hi, honey! You on your way home?” Susan held the telephone with the crook of her neck as she placed some family pictures on the dresser in her bedroom. A portrait of Danny in his red tunic looked particularly handsome.

“Sorry, babe, not yet. I'm stuck in some fleabag of a bar watching my new partner drink beer and chat with some hooker.”

“What are you doing in a place like that?”

“Good question. Everyone in here is a degenerate. My so-called partner seems to be having fun. How's Tiffany?”

“She's asleep. Listen, I got the bed put together, but can't find the nuts to the bolts.”

“Don't worry about it. I've got my own nuts.”

Susan snickered and then said, “But what about me? I don't have any.”

“You can use mine whenever you want. Don't wait up. Love ya!”

Spider didn't take his eyes off Jack as he put the syringe down on the edge of the sink before searching him. He started at Jack's neck and worked his way down to his feet. He took his time and wasn't bashful. He found a hunting knife tucked in the top of Jack's boot.

Spider pulled out the knife. “What's this?”

“I ain't in the business of lettin' people rip me off!”

Spider smiled, then looked at his two companions and said, “Okay, let 'im go.”

“So what the hell was that all about?” said Jack in a voice he hoped sounded convincing.

“Just makin' sure you're not the heat.”

“This is fuckin' bullshit, man! I'm no more the heat than you are!”

“Yeah, well, it pays to be careful. Don't take it personal. Go wait by the pool tables. Should be along in about half an hour.”

“Give me my blade back!”

Spider pointed the knife at Jack's eye and used the tip of the blade to flick his eyelashes. Jack slowly reached for the knife. Spider relinquished his grip and Jack shoved the knife back in his boot. He slammed the door as he left, then walked to the rear of the tavern.

Spider left the men's room and went directly to Red. He whispered to her and then returned to his table. The two junkies came out a minute later and left the bar. They had just been given their fix for the night. He noticed Danny return to his seat.

Jack chalked his name on a board to play pool. His legs felt weak and he stood with his hands in his pockets, hoping nobody would notice him shaking. Red went to the lobby but returned a few minutes later.

Ten minutes later, Jack saw Danny get up and go to the men's room. A scrawny junkie at a nearby table gave Danny a long, hard look, and then followed him. Jack hoped his frustration didn't show.
Now what? Blow my cover for some jerk I told to stay in the car? Goddamn him!

Danny stood at the urinal. He heard someone come in behind him but didn't look up. The junkie took a buck knife out of his pocket and opened the blade. He partially hid the knife beside his leg as he crept up behind Danny.

The pain was instant. Danny briefly lost consciousness when the butt end of the knife slammed hard into the side of his skull. He crashed into the wall and his knees buckled as he slid face-first down the urinal. The junkie grabbed his hair and smashed his face into the drain.

Danny's teeth cut his tongue and he could taste the blood as it ran down the back of his throat. The deodorizer cake in the bottom of the urinal stung his eyes and lips. His left hand was partially pinned under his face, and the junkie held his other wrist high up his back. He felt the sharp edge of the knife on his throat and froze.

“You so much as whisper or blink a fuckin' eyeball and I'll slash yer fuckin' throat!”

For a strange moment, Danny didn't feel fear or panic. A sorrowful calm seeped across his brain.
There is nothing I can do. I am not in control of my life — he is. In a moment he'll find my badge and then I'll die. I'll never see Susan or Tiffany again. It's so sad….

The door to the men's room opened and he cocked his head and saw Jack. Both Danny and the junkie stared at Jack, who sauntered up to the urinal next to them. Danny heard him unzip and then softly whistle.

The junkie kneed Danny between the shoulder blades, pinning his face harder into the bottom of the urinal. He felt the junkie's hand slide his wallet from his pocket.
Son of a bitch! He's not going to help me! I'm going to die in here like this!
Panic replaced sorrow.

Jack eyed the situation.
How do I help without blowing my cover?
Then he spotted Danny's ring. If the junkie wanted it, he'd have to release Danny's arm.

“Missed his wedding ring,” Jack said, trying to sound casual.

Danny saw the blood and water trickling across his gold wedding ring.

“Yeah. Gimme yer fuckin' ring!”

Danny raised his left hand above his head. The junkie released his grip on his wrist and reached for the ring. It was the chance Danny needed. He uttered a panicked squeal while grabbing the knife by the blade. The sharp steel cut through his flesh while he started bashing the junkie's wrist against the ceramic side of the urinal. He drove a sharp elbow into the junkie's ribs and the knife clattered into the bottom of the urinal.

Both men were in a frenzied struggle for the knife. Danny's brain didn't register Jack yell, “Hey! You made me piss on my leg!” Nor was he aware that Jack then kicked the junkie in the head, knocking him off balance. Danny grabbed the knife as the junkie turned to scramble away. Within a heartbeat, Danny buried the knife into the junkie's back — and then recoiled in horror.

A different panic swept over him when he realized what he had done. The junkie staggered to his feet and tried to reach the knife protruding from under his shoulder blade.

“Here, let me help you with that,” said Jack, while zipping up his pants. He pulled the knife out and added, “You better split, man, before this guy finishes you off!”

The junkie flopped against the door, opened it, and hurried out.

Danny sat on the floor, gawking at his bleeding hand while Jack rinsed the knife in the sink. Neither spoke as Jack cut off half of Danny's shirtsleeve and tied the cloth around his hand. Jack handed him the knife.

“Stabbing someone in the back. Is that what they're teaching at the academy these days?”

Danny's mouth hung open as he stared at Jack in both shock and disbelief. “We've got to report this. That guy could die! We can't just —”

“Forget that! You're a cop. You'd end up in jail. Only citizens are allowed to panic.”

“But what if he dies? You can't —”

“He won't die. A shoulder isn't what you would call a vital organ. If you wanted to kill him, you should have gone for his carotid artery.”

Danny looked down at the blood seeping through the cloth on his hand. “I need stitches.”

“You'll need a few. There's a clinic about five blocks away. But not now.”

“What do you mean, not now?” said Danny, as a combination of fear and anger crept back into his voice. “I'm bleeding.”

“I need fifteen or twenty minutes. You can hold off that long. I obviously didn't make myself clear when I told you to wait in the car, so let me explain it to you in your language.”

“Huh?”

“The gentleman I was sitting with is lining me up with an ounce of speed. He goes by the name of Spider. A tattooed lady of questionable character is involved. She has long red hair and goes by the name of Red. I want you to watch and see if you can figure out the action.”