“Walk out like nothing happened?”
“Yes. This place is not all that genteel. An extra set of eyes might help.”
“So now you decide to follow policy?” said Danny harshly.
“Forget about policy. You need to learn the rules ⦠to be educated.”
“What rules? What are you talking about? Educated about what?”
“For tonight, two simple things. Lesson one, leave your attitude behind. You look like you think you're better than everybody else.”
“I
am
better than anyone in this dump!”
“That attitude will get you killed. Besides, you've never walked in their shoes.”
“This is nothing but a den of snakes! Scum! I can see that much!”
“That's the second lesson. If they don't respect you, you'll become a victim.”
“I just did!”
“I mean a
dead
victim. Everybody will know what happened. They'll have a lot more respect for you if you stay and don't act like a pansy. Wash up, then go out there and order a beer and drink it slow. Hold the beer in your cut hand. The cold will slow the bleeding. When I leave, don't walk out with me. I'll go out the back. Wait at least ten minutes then go out the front.”
“Anything else?” asked Danny, sullenly.
“Yes. Zip up!”
Jack returned to the pool tables. The wounded junkie was gone. A few minutes later, Danny stumbled out of the men's room. The noise level dropped as patrons saw his bandaged hand and the open knife held forth in his other hand. His anger and paranoia was evident as his eyes darted about. Everyone waited and stared. Danny then used his good hand to press the release button and his forearm to close the blade. He dropped the knife in his pocket and then growled at the waitress to bring him a beer. The noise level returned to normal.
A few minutes later, Jack noticed a slim man with a shaved head and moustache walk casually through the bar. He was wearing a black leather vest that had silver medallions for buttons. He gave Red a subtle nod and walked back out the main entrance.
Red went to the rear of the bar and stood by the fire escape door. The door could be opened only from inside the bar. She waited until she heard a rap on the door and
then opened it. She was passed something and then pulled the door shut.
Several men, all holding cues, slowly encircled Jack. Some held the cues by the wrong end, gripping them like a baseball bat. They stared into his eyes, defying him to make a move.
The circle parted slightly as Red walked up to Jack. Without saying a word, she handed him a plastic baggie of brown powder. Seconds later, the transaction was completed. Jack pushed open the fire escape door and disappeared down the darkened alley.
Danny showed up at the parking garage on schedule.
Jack held up the plastic baggie of powder. “See anything after I left?”
“Yeah. Red went to where Spider was sitting and gave him a couple of bills. Then she met a guy who just arrived. A minute later they both split for the lobby.”
“Bald? Leather vest?”
“You saw him?”
“He cruised through the bar right before the deal went down. I'm sure Baldy is her connection. Bet he stashed the dope in the alley until he checked things out, then went and handed it to her through the back door.”
“Recognize him from the photos?”
“No. A club member would never deliver it.” Jack saw Danny grimace as he adjusted the piece of shirtsleeve wrapped around his hand and said, “I'm sorry if I was a little snarky in there. I respect how you handled yourself after. You don't listen very well, but you've got guts. If you don't want to be my partner I'll understand.”
Danny thought about Wigmore.
Do I have any choice?
He looked at Jack and replied, “I'll still be your partner â for now.”
“Good. Then I'll clue you in as to what my plans really are. This is just the beginning.”
I'm sure Wigmore will be very interested to hear your plans.
Danny stared down at his hand and said, “This is just the beginning?”
Jack playfully punched him on the shoulder and said, “What a pansy. Okay, I'll drive you to the clinic. We'll talk after.”
Jack and Danny entered the medical clinic and approached the receptionist, an older, heavy-set woman with short grey hair. Behind her, a younger woman wearing a white lab coat stood bent over with her back to them as she rifled through some papers.
“What can I do for you two gentlemen?” the receptionist asked.
“My friend fell on some glass and cut his hand.”
Jack picked up a magazine and sat in the reception area. He heard the receptionist ask Danny for his provincial health card. Jack winced when Danny didn't lower his voice to explain that as a federal police officer, he was on a different health plan. He was glad there were no other people in the office. A moment later the receptionist said, “Doctor?”
The doctor turned around. Jack noticed that she was a petite woman, with a slim figure and long black hair.
“Hello! I'm Dr. Trovinski,” she said to Danny in a cheery voice. “Come with me, officer, and we'll take a look.”
Jack joined them as they entered a small examination room and stood beside Danny as he sat on the edge of the examination bed.
“And why did you come along?” the doctor asked.
Jack smiled and stuck out his hand as he introduced himself. She reluctantly accepted his handshake but remained silent, awaiting his reply.
“My partner suffers from a phobia about seeing doctors. On the way over he made me promise to stay with him.”
“Really?” She looked at Danny, who looked perplexed. “You suffer from iatrophobia?”
“Probably got smacked on the bum too hard by a doctor when he was born,” Jack offered.
The doctor gave Jack a furtive look and smiled. Her bright white teeth shone, as did her eyes. She turned her attention to Danny's hand and slowly unwrapped the shirtsleeve that was being used as a dressing. Classical music softly played from a nearby office and she hummed quietly as she worked.
“Fantasy. D-Minor by Mozart,” said Jack.
“You know your music,” she replied without looking up.
“My favourite is
The Marriage of Figaro.
”
“Mine, too, but that CD is scratched.” She finished unwrapping Danny's hand and started to wash off the blood.
“Would you like to eat pickled herring in chocolate sauce?” Jack asked.
“Would I what?”
“Would you like to eat pickled herring in chocolate sauce?”
“Certainly not. Sounds gross!”
“Sounds gross to me too. Looks like we have at least two things in common. Are you a vegetarian?”
“No, but I see where you're going with this, and â”
“That makes three things we have in common.”
“I'm married.”
I'm such an idiot!
He looked at the doctor and said, “Sorry.” He found the silence that followed more embarrassing, so he asked, “Do you have children?”
“Uh, yes. Three of them.”
“You're not wearing a ring, so I thought⦔
“Sanitary reasons.”
She examined Danny's hand carefully, then looked at Jack. “You told my receptionist that he cut his hand when he fell on some glass.”
Jack nodded.
Dr. Trovinski's face hardened. “I don't appreciate being lied to. Do you really think I don't know what a defensive knife wound looks like? Especially working in this neighbourhood? Give me a break! I treated a fellow not even half an hour ago with a stab wound to his shoulder. Believe me, I know knife wounds when I see them!”
“Is he going to be okay?” asked Danny.
“Who?”
“This other guy, who was stabbed in the back.”
“How did you know that it was the back of his shoulder?”
There was an uncomfortable silence, then she said, “Yes, he'll be fine. I don't know what happened between the two of you and I really don't care. My job is to patch people up. Most of my customers wouldn't come in for treatment if they thought I would tell anyone.”
“Thank you, doctor,” said Jack.
She nodded curtly and then turned back to Danny. “I smell alcohol on your breath. I suspect you've had
enough to drink that I won't need to waste time administering freezing.”
Danny sat upright. “No! I didn't drink that much!”
The doctor pursed her lips into a slight grin as she walked over to a cabinet.
“Pansy,” whispered Jack.
It was well past midnight when Jack drove Danny away from the clinic.
“How's your hand?”
“Sore. So's my tongue. I bit it when he whacked me.”
“What were you prescribed?”
Danny handed him the small bottle of pills.
Jack examined the label. “T-threes.” He tossed the pill bottle into the back seat. “I have better medicine.”
At 5:15 in the morning, Danny found himself sitting cross-legged on a seawall in Stanley Park, overlooking the ocean. Jack's medicine was a bottle of Jose Cuervo Gold tequila that they passed back and forth between them.
Jack explained the real reason that he was interested in Satans Wrath and admitted that he didn't have proper authorization or Louie's approval to buy drugs.
Danny felt tense.
Will Wigmore forgive me for stabbing that guy if I come clean with Taggart?
He looked at the half-empty bottle of tequila.
What the hell, at least my hand doesn't hurt. Come to think of it, I can't feel my legs, either.
He rolled over on his side and kicked to untangle his legs. He then snickered when he thought of Jack's awkward pass at the doctor.
“She was pretty, wasn't she?”
“Who?” Jack asked.
“The doc.”
“Yes, I noticed.”
“You noticed! No shit! I would never have guessed. Too bad she's married.”
“She's not married.”
“Yeah, she is. Don't you remember? She can't wear her ring 'cause â”
“She lied.” Jack paused, then took his first real swig on the bottle. “Not that it matters. She obviously didn't want to go out with me.” He passed the bottle back to Danny and added, “I can't believe I acted that way around her. I was a fool. No wonder she wasn't interested.”
“What makes ya say she lied?”
“Her demeanour and her eyes.”
“Her eyes?”
“Most people's eyes look slightly in one direction when they recall something that is true. Her eyes did, when we talked about music and food. The eyes usually look in the opposite direction when they use the more creative side of their brain to formulate a lie. Her eyes were no different. She doesn't have a husband or children.”
“Son of a bitch! What are ya? A two-legged lie detector?” Danny chortled but abruptly stopped.
Hope the son of a bitch doesn't ever ask me about Wigface ⦠no, Wigâ¦
“Come on,” said Jack. “Time to take you home.”
It was 6:25 when Susan awakened to the sound of the key turning at the front door. She saw Danny's figure as he entered the darkened room.
“You're home late. How was your first shift with your new partner?” Susan asked, leaning out of bed and turning on a bedside light.
It took Susan a moment to grasp the situation. Danny was covered in sand and there was blood on his face, shirt, and bandaged hand. He carried his sports jacket over one shoulder. His other arm was half bare with the jagged remains of his shirtsleeve hanging above.
“My God! What happened? Are you all right?”
“Am I all right? Look at me! I bit my tongue. Some son of a bitch tried to rob me! I got whacked on the skull and had my eyeballs jammed into a urinal with a knife at my throat! Meantime Jack comes in and pisses in the urinal beside usâ¦. Yeah, I'm all right.”
“Didn't he help you?”
“Help me? Help me! Oh yeah, he helped me all right. Told the guy to steal my wedding ring while he was at it! Did I tell ya I bit my tongue? That's why I sound funny.”
“Didn't you call the police?”
Danny stood on one leg as he tried to take off his pants. “Christ! I am the police! Besides, if I had called, I'd be arrested for what I did to the guy.”
“What happened? What did you do to the guy?”
Danny hopped sideways three times across the floor on one leg, before losing his balance and falling facedown on the bed.
“I gotta make notes on this,” mumbled Danny. “Think I'll be in shit tomorrow ⦠or today ⦠or whatever.” Seconds later he started to snore.
Susan looked at the picture on the dresser of the man she had married and then at the man beside her.
Is this the same guy?
Danny snorted as the bed collapsed, then continued to snore. The noise did awaken Tiffany, who cried from the other room.
An hour and a half after Danny's bed collapsed, Jack met Lucy when she arrived in the parking lot of the crime laboratory.
“Another sample?”
Jack handed her the baggie of powder that he had bought from Red.
Lucy looked closely at the powder. “Looks like meth. Good amount this time. We're pretty busy at the moment. Probably take me a week or ten days to compare.”
Jack's shoulders slumped. His voice was monotone. “I got it in a bar that backs out onto the same alley as the one that you cross-matched from the beat cop. Tough bar. If this matches, I could be on to something.”
“Buy this yourself?”
“Don't ask. Appreciate it if you keep this between the two of us.”
“If it does match ⦠what about Homicide?”
“If it matches, I'll let them know in due time.”
“Fine by me. It's your neck. I'm just the analyst. I don't know who is running what.”
“Thanks, Luce.”
“You don't look so good. You better get some sleep.”
“I'm heading home now.”