Jack Taggart Mysteries 7-Book Bundle. Don Easton

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Jack Taggart Mysteries 7-Book Bundle - Don Easton A Jack Taggart Mystery

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      Ray read in the report that there was speculation about a war in British Columbia between the Indos and Satans Wrath. Interesting. Who will win? The bikers are much more organized yet seem to lack the propensity to remove obstacles related to the judiciary — something I just can’t comprehend. On the other hand, the Indos use violence without hesitation but are not as well organized. If there is a war, which side will win and work for us?

      Ray looked at Leitch and asked, “Has Damien received this yet?”

      Leitch shook his head and said, “The copy for Damien has been locked away as usual. I’m supposed to give it to him tomorrow morning.”

      Ray snickered to himself. The report was from a police officer that Satans Wrath had cultivated, yet it was he who saw it first. Leitch knew his place. The amount of money he had been paid was minuscule in the overall scheme of things. Of course, a bloody fool like Leitch thinks the amount I gave him makes him wealthy. Small men ... small dreams.

      Ray saw another sheet of paper in the envelope and pulled it out. “What’s this?” he asked.

      “Some Mountie that Damien wanted checked out. An officer by the name of Taggart. Someone by that same name was murdered. The note says the police officer with the same name is almost in tears over it.”

      “Really!” Ray paused for a moment, lost in thought, then asked, “Tell me, is Jack Taggart a common name in Canada?”

      Leitch shrugged and said, “Not really.”

      “I have never heard of such a name. It didn’t occur to me that there would be two in one city. Perhaps it is fortunate for the policeman that his name was not in the telephone directory.”

      Leitch smirked when the meaning of Ray’s words became clear. “I suspect The Boss will not be happy,” he suggested.

      “I’m hardly concerned. I will let him know. This is nothing that can’t be fixed.”

      chapter six

      On Thursday morning, Jack felt more agitated as he thought about the funeral he would be attending tomorrow.

      “Maybe you shouldn’t go,” suggested Natasha. “Why put yourself through that?”

      “Holly thinks it has something to do with me. It would be cowardly not to show up.”

      “But at the funeral, it —”

      “I think of them all the time. Holly ... Jenny ... Charlie. I need to go.”

      “You’re tormenting yourself by being involved in something that may have nothing to do with you.”

      “How could I not be involved? Do you really think I could just forget about it, not knowing if it was because of me? Every time I see a little kid running or playing, I’ll think of Charlie. There’s no way I’ll ever not be involved.”

      “Fine, then I’m going with you.”

      “Thought you had to work.”

      “You’re more important. I figured I wouldn’t be able to talk you out of it. I already booked the morning off. I also talked with Susan. She and Danny are going as well.”

      “She doesn’t need to do that. Tiffany is barely a year old. Jimmy is less than two months. She should stay home. Danny and I will go, but it’s not necessary for —”

      “It is necessary! For all of us! Don’t shut out the people who love you when you need them.” Natasha then softened her voice and said, “We’re all worried about you. Quit trying to shoulder everything yourself. You’re not alone in this. It’s imperative that you remember that.”

      The banks had just opened when Damien met with Leitch outside. Leitch watched his secretary go in, then turned to Damien and said, “The Crown’s case against those arrested inside the labs is strong. Same goes for Silent Sam for picking up the money. Petro is in a better position. They saw Silent Sam hand him the money but can’t prove that Petro knew it was the proceeds of a criminal venture.”

      “Just do your job,” said Damien. “That’s what we pay you for.”

      “The Crown does have a weak link. One person in toxicology examined all the exhibits. A Lucy somebody ... I’ve got her name at the office. If something were to happen to her at the opportune time, everything might get tossed out of court. She would be easier to get to. She doesn’t carry a gun.”

      “Forget it!” said Damien. “There’s no need to whack anyone. This is B.C. What are my guys going to get? Probation? Maybe a couple of months?”

      Leitch first shrugged that he didn’t know but then admitted, “Probably.”

      “You read in the paper about someone by the name of Jack Taggart being murdered?” asked Damien.

      “Yes. Unfortunately it wasn’t the same Jack Taggart who provided the grounds for the search warrants.”

      “I think someone thought they were killing him. Whoever it was made a huge mistake. I’ve met Taggart. Had a chat with him last year in my basement after a couple of my men stepped out of bounds. Those men are now dead. Taggart saw to that. You can bet some sorry bastard will pay for trying to kill him.”

      “Too bad whoever tried didn’t succeed.”

      Damien shook his head. “Killing cops makes martyrs — and more cops with a vengeful attitude to replace them.”

      Their conversation came to a stop when the secretary returned and handed her boss a brown manila envelope. She then continued down the street to her office.

      Damien accepted the envelope and opened it. He caught a glimpse of the RCMP crime report. It was dated yesterday. Hot off the presses. He then read the note about Jack Taggart. Upset about the murder ... but doesn’t suspect Satans Wrath.

      Moments after Leitch left, Damien sent a BlackBerry message to Lance and Whiskey Jake. Two hours later, when he finished meeting with them, he sent another message: Mister Taggart, we need to meet!

      The reply was fast. Excellent idea! How about now? This time, not in your basement!

      Damien sent his response. Montrose Park — by Second Narrows Bridge — 30 minutes.

      Danny looked across the desk as Jack deleted a message on his BlackBerry and asked, “A message from our friend?”

      “Different friend. I want you to drop me off and wait in the car. I’ll call you when I’m done.”

      “Holding out on me?” said Danny light-heartedly, trying to be funny.

      “It’s Damien,” whispered Jack.

      “Christ! How did he get your number?” “I gave it to him.”

      Danny was taken aback. “You’re not meeting him alone. It could be a trap.”

      “It’s not a trap. But you’ll keep your trap shut and do as I say.”

      Danny’s

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