“Simple. Grab the little bitch when she’s alone someplace. As soon as you do, I’ll set up Taggart and O’Reilly so they’re easy to kill. If Taggart’s body is never found, and O’Reilly and the little bitch are killed with Taggart’s gun, it’ll make it look like Taggart flipped out and shot them. Especially if there are no ligature marks.”
Thumper leaned forward in his chair and said, “I can handle six guys and not leave a visible mark on ’em. Ten, if I was in a locked room with ’em.”
“But how?” asked Wizard. “This will never work! They…”
The Suit raised his hand and gestured for Wizard to stop. “I have a plan. Don’t you think I know how cops think? All you need is the proper evidence. This will work. If we have to, kill his sister and her hubby, too. Won’t really matter. Use a shotgun on them, just like their kids. Leave it in Taggart’s trunk and the police will conclude he was also responsible for murdering their children. Arrange for the appropriate evidence in his apartment.” He paused, then said, “It would be prudent to have one or two others to assist. How about this Lance fellow?”
“Lance’s loyalty might be with Damien. I think it would be better to keep him out of this. I’ll get a couple of strikers. T-Bone and Booger. Neither one would question whatever I tell them to do. But you still haven’t explained how or when.”
“Tomorrow is Friday. We do it this weekend. And I’ll tell you exactly how.”
Late Friday night Jack lay in bed gently running his fingers through Natasha’s hair. Her head lay on his chest, and Jack knew by her breathing that she was asleep.
He reflected on their evening. Natasha was a great cook. She was also coy about why she called to apologize for having doubted his sincerity. She said a good friend had opened her eyes but wouldn’t say who. He had the feeling that she enjoyed keeping a secret from him.
He watched the luminous numbers of the digital clock in the bedroom as the minutes slowly flipped by into hours. He tried to sleep but his brain wouldn’t shut off. He took slow, deep breaths to calm himself but had to repeat the process often. He couldn’t stop thinking about two small coffins and the promise he had made to Maggie and Ben Junior.
He waited until early morning, then left a note and slipped quietly away. Leaving a note was easier than answering questions. Besides, if things went as planned, he could explain it to her over dinner tonight.
chapter thirty-seven
Jack’s first stop was his own apartment. He immediately checked a voice-activated tape recorder that he had hidden under the sofa. The footage indicator was unchanged. He looked at his stereo. Do they plan on leaving the bug in there forever?
He showered, changed his clothes, and headed out the door.
It was just before noon on Saturday when CC and Charlie Wells entered the motel lot. The units were individual cabins well spaced from each other, but as Charlie had commented upon their arrival, they were not the type to be recommended by the travel bureau.
They entered the office and CC asked the proprietor if he was Mr. Burnside. When he said he was, she showed him her badge and introduced her partner.
“You called our office and said that you had some information concerning the murder of those two children?” she asked.
Burnside looked nervously past them. “I don’t want anyone to see me talking to you.”
“What are you afraid of?” asked CC.
“Bikers,” replied Burnside. “Let’s go in back.”
Moments later, Burnside explained. “Bikers started bringing this creep to my motel,” he said, nervously glancing out the door. “Then they bring him young girls. Real young. A biker would always sit outside in a car and wait. It’s none of my business. I just rent the rooms.”
“What does this have to do with the murder?” asked CC.
“I was warned last night by one of the bikers that I should get out of the city for a couple of weeks. Can’t do that. Lose too much business.”
“Why? What biker?”
“Dunno. I think he’s with Satans Wrath. He told me this guy who likes little girls has flipped out. He says the guy is gonna start killin’ anyone who can identify him.”
“You still haven’t said what this has to do with —”
“The biker says to me, you heard about those two kids in the farmhouse? I says, yeah. He says that this weirdo was gonna do somethin’ to the girl but her little brother came in and he ended up killing ’em both. Guess he told the kids to stand on one side of a door ’cause he didn’t want to look at their faces when he did it. Then he blasted away with a shotgun from the other side. Apparently he missed the little boy and had to do him later. Don’t know if this is all bullshit or not, but thought I should tell ya.”
CC exchanged a glance with her partner. The information on how the kids were killed had never been released to the public. This was the lead they had been waiting for.
“Who is this guy? Can you identify him?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Only saw him for a second. Like I said, he’s weird. I went past this cabin one night. I could tell he was takin’ pictures because of the flash. The curtain wasn’t completely closed and I saw him stark naked except for wearing a mask of George Bush.”
“You sure it was a George Bush mask?” asked CC.
“Yup. And it wasn’t Halloween. But this other night was different. I think that the girl he was with slashed his back with a knife. The biker wanted me to bring a first-aid kit. I only saw his face for a second when I brought the kit. I think the guy was angry that I saw him.”
“How often does he come here?”
“Maybe once a month. The biker rents the room and pays cash. Another one of the Smith family. I did write the weirdo’s licence plate number down once.”
“You’ve got his licence plate number?” CC could barely conceal her excitement.
“Yeah, but it was a couple of weeks ago and now I can’t find it. It might still be around someplace. I was lookin’ before ya came over.”
“I’ll give you my card,” said CC. “I want you to keep looking and call me immediately if you find it or if this guy shows up!”
Wizard waited until Burnside was alone before walking out of a nearby unit.
“They believe ya?” he asked.
“Hook, line, and sinker!”
At noon, Jack called Natasha. She was perturbed that he had slipped away without waking her. He apologized and said that there was some work he had to take care of but hoped the restaurant he had made dinner reservations at would make up for it.
“I know the place,” said Natasha. “Was there once, years ago. Right on top of Burnaby Mountain. It’s beautiful. Has a panoramic view of Vancouver. You’re
