a receptionist waved her through. Her contact, an airport official, was waiting in the doorway of his office as she walked down the hall. Actually, he was big enough to stand in as a door.
“Shannon O’Brien, how good to see you,” he said as they shook hands.
“Likewise, Fred.”
Getting his bulk comfortable behind his desk, he asked, “So you’re looking for information on a plane that left Tuesday evening or early yesterday morning?”
Fred, who ran the refueling concession for this side of the airport, had helped O’Brien Investigates on numerous occasions. Shannon knew his assistance was predicated on the fact that he enjoyed looking at her.
“There probably would have been three passengers, two men and a woman.” She slid a copy she’d made of Olivia’s photo across the desk. “This is who I’m looking for.”
“And the two men accompanying her?”
“Bounty hunters, I believe.”
“I hate those guys. Do you have a description of them?”
Shannon had typed up something based on Curran’s story. It wasn’t very detailed.
As Fred alternately skimmed the page and stared at the girl’s photo, she said, “I also don’t want to draw unnecessary attention to what I’m looking for.”
“Was the girl going willingly?”
“On the surface, from what I’ve been told.”
“Any idea of the destination?”
“There’s only sketchy material to work with at this point. We’re pretty sure the men are from the States and quite possibly the girl. I don’t know if she ran away from a legal problem, or if it’s something else.”
“Sounds a bit like a needle in a haystack to me.”
Shannon shrugged. “I’ve done more with less. Think you can help?”
Fred looked down at the photo again. “Jimmy’s here today, and he was around on Tuesday night. Let’s talk to him.”
Jimmy turned out to be a wiry guy with grey hair who looked as tough as an old goat. Fred gave him the photo of Olivia. He stared at it for a good ten seconds before handing it back.
“I seen her. Tuesday night, some time after eleven.”
Shannon asked, “Anyone with her?”
“Two guys.”
“Can you describe them?”
Jimmy looked at Fred. “She a cop?”
Fred shook his head. “No, a friend. She’s looking for the girl.”
The airport employee grunted. “I figured out that much. Look lady, I really didn’t pay attention. A cute thing like her I certainly glance at, but I don’t have time for guys, know what I mean? And besides, they were in a real big hurry. Wanted their plane refuelled like yesterday.”
“So they took off right away?”
“Not really. Their pilot wasn’t ready, and it took a while to get through all the formalities. They weren’t happy. The shorter of the two guys took the girl onto the plane while they waited.”
“And the other person?”
“He drove off in the car almost right away. Can’t say if he didn’t just return it to the rental place and take a cab back, though.”
Shannon filed that bit of information away. Now for the million dollar question. “Any idea where they were flying to?”
“The plane was from the States, if that’s what you mean. I believe they flew in from California. Can’t really say if they were going back there, though. I was pretty busy that night. Hardly had time to think.”
He did have time to ogle a pretty girl, though, and that had been a good thing.
Fred spoke up. “I can get you that information.” Shannon wondered how much it might cost her. A year ago, he’d
fleeced her for three hundred dollars for the same sort of info. This time she’d stipulate that he share some of it with Jimmy. The sharp-eyed gas jockey had saved her a lot of time.
As she drove along Highway 401 on the way back to her office, Shannon considered her next move.
According to the flight plan that had been filed, the plane had a final destination of San Diego. That didn’t necessarily mean that it couldn’t have stopped somewhere first to drop off passengers. Pilots amended their flight plans all the time. She’d have to follow that up. Perhaps the pilot or the owners of the plane would be willing to talk. That would require the proper leverage, since they generally protected their clientele, especially if they were bounty hunters.
The news that the bozo who’d poked her client in the eye might still be around was something that required careful consideration, too. Was there a reason for that? If so, what?
Swinging north onto the 404, Shannon’s thoughts were back on Jackie Goode. After their meeting that morning, she had the feeling she might have caught lightning in a bottle. Then again, there was the comment by one of Goode’s instructors in a Seneca College Police Foundations course: “The kid’s got street smarts and savvy, but she’s also got a big mouth and is pigheaded to boot. I’d watch my step with her.”
Shannon would keep her on a short lead.
***
At two o’clock sharp, Jackie walked up the steps of Andrew Curran’s house. On one of the tree-lined streets running east off Broadview south of Danforth Avenue, he had an enviable location in one of Toronto’s hottest neighbourhoods, speaking in real estate terms.
The house itself looked a tad run down, but the windows were new. The broad porch was in need of fresh paint, the bushes in front of it were overgrown and the cement walk was crumbling. Playing drums must keep him busy – or else he didn’t care about protecting his investment.
Curran had been watching for her, because he was waiting behind the storm door as she mounted the steps.
“I’m Jackie Goode,” she said, offering her hand.
“Is this going to take long? I thought I answered all the questions yesterday.”
He seemed distracted as he led her into the living room.
As she sat down on a small sofa and looked around (not much furniture and most of it new), Jackie pulled a notebook out of her backpack before setting it on the floor. Only one small painting adorned the walls, but she could see marks where several others had once hung. The mantel above the fireplace at the far end was also bare. Frankly, the place looked as if he’d just moved in. The only thing of any consequence was an impressive sound system, a large bookcase crammed with CDs on one wall and another with double layers of books on the opposite side. Mr. Curran obviously liked to listen to music and read.
He
