Shatter Page 5

  Before I know it, I’ve lost sight of them and the road I’m on starts to narrow. I keep travelling until I see a sign that says, Dead End. Shit! Where did he go? I pull over to the shoulder and am just about to turn the truck around when the white Mercedes screams up beside me. The passenger is about twenty-five and is wearing a baseball cap pulled down low, almost covering his eyes. He signals for me to roll down my window. When I reach for the window control, I notice my hand shake.

  “What you following us for, bitch?” asks the punk.

  “I just wanted to ask you some questions about a student you may know. He’s been missing and I’m trying to locate him.”

  He laughs. “Does it look like we work for the information bureau?”

  No, you look like a good argument for birth control.

  “The information bureau? I’m sorry, are you sure you have the name right?” I ask, confused.

  “Well, whatever the hell it’s called. Bottom line, we ain’t telling you shit, and if you keep tailing us, you’re gonna end up with a body full of lead,” he says, flashing a gun from under his jacket.

  As soon as I see the revolver, my heart speeds up and my brain goes blank. “Ok, ok. No problem. I’m sorry to have bothered you,” I say, doing up the window.

  The car speeds in front of me and spins around before squealing passed.

  No fucking way did that just happen. I put my hand on my chest to slow my breathing. What the hell did I get myself into? I mean, I’ve seen a lot of guns before, but having one flashed at me in this ritzy area, completely caught me off guard.

  Knowing I need to regroup and come up with a safer and better plan for finding Allen, I decide to go home and unwind.

  * * *

  Back at the apartment, I notice Dad’s not here. I flop out on the couch. I can’t help but feel overwhelmed with failure. I should’ve managed to get some news on this kid by now, but I haven’t. Instead, I get yelled at by a little shit student and then I get a fucking gun flashed at me. Maybe I’m not cut out for this. Jason would’ve probably found Allen by now. I sigh deeply. I wish I could talk to him, and find out what the hell to do next.

  My phone rings, happy for the distraction from beating myself up, I slide it out of my pocket. It’s Katie, she’s got the best timing.

  “Hey, girl. What’s new?” I ask.

  “Nothing much. I just thought maybe you’d like to have dinner with me tonight? My treat.”

  “Well, I’ll have to check my schedule. I’m pretty important and busy you know.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. It was a dumb idea. I guess I’ll just go and find someone who isn’t so swamped and has more free time than you.” She laughs.

  “I’m that replaceable, am I?”

  “Pretty much,” she says, still laughing.

  Just then I hear a key in the lock.

  “So, what time are you picking me up?” I ask.

  “I’ll grab you at 8 pm. Is that cool?”

  “It’s very cool,” I say, smiling.

  We say goodbye just as Dad walks through the door fumbling with bags of groceries.

  I stand up and walk over to help. “What’s all this stuff?” I ask.

  “Grub, kid.”

  He didn’t have any cash when I picked him up from the jail. I had to give him bus fare. Where the hell did he get the money to pay for all of this stuff? I want to ask him, but he looks so happy with his bounty. I don’t want to bum him out. Still, a niggling thought in the back of my mind tells me that maybe he is the same person he was all those years ago. Maybe his new found cash is drug related.

  “I bought steaks and beautiful veggies. I’m going to make us the best dinner,” he says excitedly.

  “Oh no, Dad. I had no idea you were going to do all of this. I actually have dinner plans—a date, kind of…” I say.

  “Oh. Ok. I guess I should’ve called you before assuming you’d be around,” he says defeatedly.

  “I’m sorry. Can we do this tomorrow night?”

  “Of course. No big deal,” he says, putting the groceries away.

  “So, who’s the lucky guy?”

  Oh shit. I forgot. He knows nothing about me being gay. How could he? Grandma died when I was still figuring out who I was. If she did guess that I am a lesbian, she never said anything and even if she did know, I doubt she’d have told my father.

  “Who said it was a guy?”

  “Ok. I’m lost. I thought you said you have a dinner date?”

  Taking a deep breath, I face my dad, “Look, umm…I’m not sure how you’re going to take this but, I don’t like guys, I like girls.”

  “So, you’re a lesbian?”

  “Yes,” I say, searching his eyes for disappointment.

  He shrugs, “I’m kind of relieved actually.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, I was dreading having to give you the birds and the bees talk. I guess I’m off the hook on that one,” he says, winking.

  “You’re a little late, Dad,” I laugh.

  I’m not going to tell him about what happened today with the punk and the gun. I don’t want to scare him, and I don’t need him trying to talk me out of working as a private investigator.

  When I’ve had my shower, I check the time and get dressed. Katie should be here soon. I guess I shouldn’t have told Dad that I was going on a date with her. She asked me to go for dinner, not a date, though I’m secretly hoping that she’s into me.

  The intercom in the living room buzzes just as I get my boots on. I say bye to Dad and head downstairs.

  * * *

  Katie looks stunning. She’s wearing a form fitted black dress, high heeled ankle boots, and a red scarf. Immediately, I feel intimidated.

  “Hey, Jules. Are you ready?”

  “Absolutely,” I say, following her to her car.

  When she starts driving, she looks over at me, “Do you have any suggestions where to eat? You know this city a lot better than I do.”

  I decide on Beaches, the same place Jason and I always go. It’s got a nice ambience and a great view of the water.

  Over dinner, she tells me about her work, and I tell her about my day, following the punks in the Mercedes. I just don’t mention the gun. While we share a dessert, conversation flows easily. Before we know it, the waiter comes over and tells us that the restaurant will be closing in fifteen minutes. We fight over the bill until I win by handing my Visa to the waiter first.

  On our way out, I snatch a purple flower out of a vase that’s sitting on a table. I hand it to Katie. She smiles and nudges me with her elbow. Just as we walk out to the street, I notice the white Mercedes parked on the other side of the road. The driver doesn’t look our way. He’s on his cell phone with the engine running.

  “No way, Katie. That’s the car. That’s the Mercedes and the same little puke in the driver’s seat.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “One-hundred percent.”

  She stops and grins. “Come on, she says, I’ve got an idea.”

  She walks quickly to her car and jumps in. I get in the passenger seat and look over at her, “What are you thinking?”

  “Let’s follow him. He doesn’t know this car, and it’s dark out. He won’t recognize you in the passenger seat. We can’t just let him get away and not follow him. He is parked right across the street. We can’t just do nothing.”

  “Katie, there’s something I didn’t tell you about what happened while I was following him today. His buddy flashed a gun at me. There’s no way I’m dragging you into all of this. They’re drug dealers, and it’s way too dangerous.”

  “I don’t give a shit. Let him flash that damn gun at me. I’ll stick it right up his arse.”

  I laugh.

  “I promise. I’ll stay far enough away from his car that he won’t notice us, ok?”

  “I don’t know, Katie. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you while following him.”

  “Oh. Too late. Conversation over. He’
s pulling out,” she says, flipping a half circle and driving up behind him.

  “Katie, who are you? You’re not moonlighting as the neighborhood watch on your down time, are you?”

  She laughs and keeps driving.

  “I can’t believe we’re doing this. Just drive slowly, ok? I’m serious.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I will.”

  At a safe distance, we follow the Mercedes up Davie Street. The car slows whenever a cop drives by. He turns right on Thurlow Street, goes down a few blocks and makes a left on Harwood Street. Three young guys in their late teens or early twenties are standing on the South West corner. The Mercedes stops in front of them, and they climb into the car.

  “Did you see any of those guys clearly,” I ask.

  “No, we’re too far away.”

  The car pulls away from the curb and resumes driving with us a few car lengths behind. The Mercedes continues up Harwood to Burrard Street then takes a right and merges with the busy traffic. Two blocks down, the car crosses over three lanes of traffic then turns left, with angry motorists honking behind them.

  “Katie, don’t do it,” I say, putting my hands on the dash.

  “If I don’t, we’ll lose him for sure,” she says with a look of determination.

  The next thing I know, we’re careening in and out of traffic. The image of a pinball machine comes to mind. My heart beats as my ears are blasted by the horns of drivers we just cut off.

  “Are you crazy, girl?” I say.

  “No. Crazy would be letting these fuckers get away without seeing where they’re going. Maybe they’ll lead us to a clue about the guy that’s missing.”

  “But it’s not worth our safety, Dale Earnhardt,” I say.

  “Ahh, but look…success. There they are,” she says, as she victoriously points at the road in front of us.

  The glow of taillights is at the stop sign ahead. When they turn right, the streetlamp lights up the side of the white Mercedes. She was right, we still haven’t lost them. After zig zagging around corners and driving fast down numerous downtown lanes, the Mercedes pulls into the parking lot of a pub named Fournier’s. Katie pulls up at the edge of the lot where there’s no lights from the street.

  We watch as the driver and the three other males get out. The driver pulls out a cell phone, texts someone and then stuffs it back in his pocket. The four of them stand around talking. A few minutes later, a dark black Lincoln Continental pulls up beside them. The driver, a huge body builder type, gets out of the Lincoln and opens the back door. An older slim man with a ponytail and wearing cowboy boots with gold tips, gets out.

  “Jules, take their pictures,” Katie says.

  Of course. Why didn’t I think of that? I guess I am too wrapped up in the moment. That, and I’m feeling a little paranoid. I really don’t want to see another gun today. I take out my cell and zoom in on the men. I start taking pictures, one after another. After a couple of minutes, an argument ensues and the burly driver grabs one of the young guys by the back of the neck and leads him into the side door of the pub. The others follow.

  “What the hell was that?” I say.

  “I don’t know, but something is going down, for sure.”

  When the coast is clear, Katie drives up to the parked cars, so I can take more pictures. A patron staggers out the front of the bar and weaves toward us. I tell Katie we should go. We wouldn’t want someone to spot us taking photos of the cars.

  * * *

  Back at the apartment, I make us a coffee and we sit in the living room, speaking quietly as to not wake up my father who is sleeping in the spare room.

  “This place is nice,” whispers Katie.

  “I’m sure your place is nice too?”

  “No. Not really. I live in a shoe box on Cardero Street.”

  “Cardero is in Coal Harbor. That’s one of the best areas to live in. It’s central to everywhere in the city.”

  “Did you write the brochure for my apartment building?”

  “Very funny, smart ass,” I say, nudging her.

  She nudges me back playfully, then I bump her again. Before I know it, she’s pushing her lips to mine, and I’ve got my hands around her, pulling her closer.

  I can’t believe how sweet she tastes. Her kisses are soft and juicy. The longer it lasts, the more I want. We start to kiss faster and more aggressively, our breathing becoming shorter and hotter. Just as I slide my hands over her knit dress, and feel her perky breasts, we are abruptly interrupted by the sound of a door opening.

  “Oh shit,” I say. Both of us giggling as my Dad staggers into the living room in his boxers and a t-shirt.

  Without noticing us, he walks past us to the fridge. When he opens the door, the light shines on Katie and me.

  “Hi, Dad,” I say loudly, so that he doesn’t think he’s alone and does something embarrassing, like fart or scratch himself.

  “What the hell?” He hollers, turning to look at us. “You scared the shit out of me!”

  I stand up and turn on the kitchen light. My dad’s face grows red, and he quickly excuses himself, coming back a moment later wearing his robe. Katie and I are still giggling on the couch.

  “So, did you ladies have a fun time tonight?” he asks.

  “We did, thanks,” says Katie.

  “Dad, this is Katie, my friend. Katie, this is my dad, John.”

  Katie says hello and smiles sweetly. The three of us sit in awkward silence. It’s hard to think about anything else other than finishing what Katie and I started.

  “Can I get you ladies a snack or something? I bought some nice tarts today,” asks my dad.

  Katie politely thanks him for the offer and then says that she has to get up early, so she has to go. I feel bummed out that she’s leaving. I stand up and walk her to the door. I’d love nothing more than to kiss her goodbye, but hawk-eye Dad is watching. I settle for a quick hug, and she leaves.

  I sit back down on the sofa, and Dad stares at me and smiles, “So, tell me, how did it go?”

  “Dad, seriously. You don’t think I’m going to dish about my date? No way.”

  He laughs and shrugs.

  “Besides, I’ve got to go through some pictures about the case I’m working on and take some notes.”

  “Mind if I sit up with you.”

  He sits beside me, and I pull out my phone. Out of all the pictures I took, there are only a few clear ones. In one shot, I see a guy in his late teens. He’s got blond hair and a clear complexion and bears a striking resemblance to Allen. I take the small snapshot that his parents gave me out of my pocket and hold it next to my phone. The similarity is uncanny. If it’s not him, it’s his doppelganger.

  “Hey, Dad. Look at the blond kid on the phone. Do you think it’s the same person as in this photo?”

  Dad leans over, “Looks like it to me, yep.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  Still, I don’t know for sure, so I’ll wait to phone his parents until I get a positive ID. I scroll through the other pictures, with my dad watching over my shoulder. When I see the old guy, I expand the screen. “Look at this ragged old man, thinking he’s all gangster. He even had a driver open his car door for him, how pretentious,” I laugh.

  Dad leans in to take a closer look, “Wait, let me see that,” he says, taking my phone away. “I don’t believe it. I don’t fucking believe it. That son of a bitch,” he says, angrily. “That’s Fournier. He’s a piece of fucking garbage,” he adds, elevating his voice.

  “Dad, calm down, and please lower your voice. Why are you getting so upset? Who is it? Wait…did you say, Fournier?”

  “Yes. I did,” he says, standing up.

  “Weird. That was the name of the pub we were in back of when I took these pictures.”

  “Really? That scum bag has a bar? I should blow it up or set fire to it. That piece of shit shouldn’t be able to own anything.”

  “Dad. Please, sit down and tell me what’s going on?”

  “He
ruined my life, Jules, and yours.”

  I am so confused, all I can do is stare at him.

  “After your mother was taken from us, and I was sent to prison, I had a lot of time to think about who could have killed her and why? At the time of her murder, we owed money to the wrong person. That person was Fournier. Back then, he was the biggest drug supplier in Vancouver.”

  “Owed him money? For what?”

  “For dope.”

  “Go on,” I say.

  “I told you how Slinky delivered our package that night, right? And how after he left, I was lying on the floor from the spiked dope? Well, I never told you this, but I always thought I saw a pair of cowboy boots with gold tips in the room. Fournier is the only person I ever knew to wear tacky looking gold tips on his boots. Now, I see these pictures of him. I know he had to have something to do with what happened.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me this before? About the guy and the boots?”

  “I wasn’t sure if what I was remembering was real or because I was doped up.”

  “But why would he kill mom and mess with your drugs? If you owed him money, wouldn’t he want you alive, so you could get his money?”

  “No. If he didn’t think we could raise the cash, he’d make examples of us. If the cops wouldn’t have taken me to the hospital that night, I would’ve died. I think that’s what Fournier intended, for me and your mother to have died.”

  His eyes are both enraged and gloomy.

  “This is a lot of information to sort, Dad. I don’t know what to believe. Have you tried to get a hold of Slinky since you’ve been out? I mean…maybe he could shine some light on what happened that night.”

  “No. Slinky is an addict and a criminal. If word got back to my parole officer that I’d been in contact with him, they’d throw my ass back in a cell, and I’d never see the light of day.”

  “Why?”