Lucy waved to a colleague as her husband dropped her off while two little kids waved goodbye from the back seat. Lucy thought they looked sweet. She saw Jack blink a couple of times, then wipe his eyes with the back of his hand as he turned and walked toward his car.
“Jack!” She waited until he turned around. “Make it three days. I'll have the results then.”
Jack picked up Danny and they arrived at the office late in the afternoon. They checked hundreds of pictures of members of Satans Wrath and known associates. Baldy was not one of them. Moments later, Louie summoned Danny into his office.
“What the hell happened to your hand?”
“I fell. It's just a couple of stitches.”
“Yeah? Well, your eyes look like two eagles' assholes in a power dive! What were you up to last night?”
“I'm not feeling well. Maybe a touch of the flu.”
“You smell more like Jose Cuervo beat the crap out of you.”
Danny heard Jack chuckle and realized that he had come in behind him.
“So? What happened last night?” Louie demanded.
“There's a bar that backs into the alley where the gram was recovered from. The Black Water Hotel. Saw a redheaded woman inside with a Harley Davidson tattoo. She looked like she was dealing. Going to see if we can properly identify her.” Jack
then looked at Danny and added, “At least we'll take another stab at it.”
Louie thought Danny's face looked even more ashen.
The next shift was uneventful. Jack watched from the parking garage while Danny slowly sipped on a beer inside the Black Water. Jack wanted to give the impression that he was busy selling drugs elsewhere. Spider and Red were in the bar, but there was no sign of Baldy.
Danny made his beer last a long time. The smell of it didn't help his hangover. He looked at the white band of skin around his finger. Susan didn't mind that he left his ring at home.
She was also a little happier when a sober Danny arrived home before midnight and told her that he had the next day off. Jack had some personal business to take care of, and his next shift wouldn't start until the day after.
Ben quietly walked up to Elizabeth in the kitchen. Neither one mentioned it was Maggie's birthday. There was no need. They also never discussed what to do with the wrapped birthday present hidden under their bed. The easel was too big to hide anywhere else. Ben placed his hands on her shoulders and looked intently at her face.
Elizabeth spoke first. “Jack phoned a few minutes ago. He was going to come out but called to check in case we wanted to be alone. I told him not to be silly.”
Ben grimaced. “He shouldn't worry. I'm glad he's coming. It's good to have someone to take your mind off it.”
“But if we want to talk about Maggie and Ben Junior, he doesn't clam up or change the subject, either.”
Ben swallowed as he stared down at his wife.
“You know,” she continued, “I feel sorry for him. He feels guilty that they haven't made an arrest. He needs someone to talk to as well. I invited him for dinner⦔ Elizabeth's words trailed off when she looked into Ben's eyes. He wasn't really listening.
Ben opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it and started again. “That's good. What time did you tell him to come?”
“This afternoon sometime. Dinner will be around six.”
Ben continued to stare at her.
“What is it, Ben? What are you thinking? Is it just ⦠because it's today?”
Ben took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I've been wonderin'. Maybe we should sell and move away. This place has got so many ⦠memories.” His eyes were watery and his voice cracked as he spoke. Words didn't come easy.
Elizabeth shook her head as tears flooded her eyes. “Memories are all we have. I don't want to lose those, too.”
Ben squeezed her shoulders with his big hands. He looked relieved. “I feel that way, too. Today, I see a lot of ⦠memories. I wonder if we shouldn't do something.”
“Like what?”
Ben opened his mouth, but then closed it again and shook his head.
“Tell me, Ben! What are you thinking? I know you've been raised that men aren't supposed to show emotion. But you can't keep everything bottled up inside you. It's not good! Your body is like a dam. It breaks if you don't let go sometimes.”
Ben paused, then said, “I was wonderin' if we shouldn't do somethin' as a tribute.”
Elizabeth nodded encouragement.
“I picked ⦠I picked a pail full of blackberries.”
Elizabeth was momentarily stunned and her eyes brimmed with tears. “Oh, Ben! I'm sorry. I can't. I'll put them in the freezer. But not now. I just can't. I'll make another pie, but not that one, not yet.”
“I'm sorry. It was a dumb idea.”
“No, it's not dumb. It's just me,” she sobbed.
Ben pulled her close to his chest. She continued to sob as she choked out what she wanted to say. “It's strange, there are times when I look at the pictures Maggie drew, or hold the teddy bear that Ben Junior used to drag around with him all the time. Sometimes I feel the need to cry. I think it helps. But I can't make a blackberry pie, not yet. It was Maggie's favourite.”
“I know it was,” whispered Ben. “I know,” he repeated, patting her on the back.
Then she looked Ben straight in the eye and added, “But we sure as hell aren't going to move, either.”
They hugged each other tight, and then they both cried.
Jack climbed into the loft and saw Ben sitting on a bale, staring at a rope hanging from the rafters. Jack self-consciously cleared his throat before sitting on another bale.
“Glad you could make it,” said Ben. “You're early.”
“Thought you could use an extra hand with the hay.”
“Rained last night. I'm givin' it another day to dry.” Ben was silent for a moment, then said, “Nothing new?”
“Might be connected to drug dealers out of Quebec. I'm working on it.”
“Think the murderer is from Quebec?”
“I think whoever did it is from the West Coast. Only a high-level dealer familiar with the area would go to the bother of using a place like that.”
“Yeah, it was a real bother, wasn't it?”
Jack choked on his own breath, then stammered, “I'm sorry Ben. I didn't mean⦔
“Naw, forget it. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. You've been a real friend, Jack. Probably the best damn friend I've ever had. It's just that today is, well⦔
Ben's voice trailed off and both men sat in silence. Eventually Ben gestured at the rope hanging from the rafter and said, “It was only two weeks ago that Ben Junior was pretending to be a pirate and swingin' out on that rope. Maggie was sitting here drinking lemonade.”
Jack didn't respond. He didn't know what to say. He felt the gnawing in his stomach. He clenched his teeth to control his tear ducts, then took a deep breath and relaxed his jaw.
“You know, Jack, I'm not a violent man. But if you ever find out who did it ⦠I'd like to see this rope used for a different purpose. I know it won't bring Maggie or Ben Junior back. Nothing could. I just figure somebody should pay for what happened.”
“Somebody will pay for this,” said Jack tersely.
“I can still see Maggie sitting on the bale drinking lemonade ⦠trying to act like a grown-up lady. Sometimes I walk in the kitchen and expect to see her sitting at the table drawing pictures. Then I remember. I'll never see her again. It makes me embarrassed I could forget, even for a moment, what happened.”
“Maybe it's good to remember the good times.”
“Maybe. Liz still sees the blood. She woke up again last night, screaming and pushing my head away from her pillow, thinking it was Ben Junior's at ⦠at that place.”
Jack saw the tears in Ben's eyes and wondered if Ben was talking to him or to himself.
“I'm sorry, Jack. Shouldn't be talking to you this way. I know you're doing everything possible. There is something I was going to ask you to do for me, if you can.”
“Anything, Ben.”
“Maggie's little sketchbook. You know the one. She carried it in her back pocket all the time. Just before it happened she was sitting where you are and drew a picture of a wasp on a glass. We want to get it back.”
“I'll check with CC. I'm sure it's not a problem.”
Natasha Trovinski looked up from her desk as her receptionist walked in and handed her a compact disc with an envelope attached to it.
“What's this?”
“Some cute guy said to give it to you, then he left.”
“Who?”
“One of the two Mounties who were in the other night. Not the one you treated.”
Natasha examined the disc.
The Marriage of Figaro.
She opened the envelope and read the note:
Please accept my apology for lying to you the other night. I also want to thank you for your discretion. If you ever do get married, I hope your husband enjoys this music too.
Sincerely, Jack
P.S. I also don't appreciate being lied to. Looks like we have another thing in common.
“Did he ask you out on a date?” the receptionist asked. “Better be careful you don't catch scarlet fever!”
“No, he didn't ask me. Besides, you know I don't date patients.”
Jack paid Homicide a visit and spoke with CC.
“Ben asked me for it yesterday. He watched her draw her last picture in it of a wasp on a glass, maybe less than an hour before she was killed. She kept it in her back pocket. Should be in her personal effects.”
“I have it. Actually, it was on the floor at the scene. Behind the door. I looked through it. That kid could really draw! One picture looks like you.”
“It was me.” Jack smiled as he recalled the event. “She made me sit on a log holding a hotdog near my mouth for half an hour for that one.”
“Wait here, I'll go to the exhibit locker and get it for you.”
A moment later CC returned. “The wasp wasn't the last thing she put in it. She printed the word
Dirty
on the next page. Sign for it and you can take it.”
Jack signed the release form and looked at Maggie's last entry. “This doesn't fit. She was really talented. Why would she put that word in there?”
CC shrugged. “Who knows? Kidsâ¦. It doesn't matter. Just take it.”
“Was her pencil in her pocket?”
“No. It was on the floor. Covered in blood. The parents won't want that.”
Later that afternoon, Jack and Danny arrived at their office. The telephone was ringing as they walked in and Jack grabbed it. Lucy didn't waste time.
“It matched! The ounce you gave me to test came from the same chemist!”
“Thank God. Oh, Luce, are you sure?”
“Yup!”
Jack rushed into Louie's office where Danny caught up to him.
“I need to get authorization to make a UC purchase,” Jack said.
“From who?”
“From this Red that I was telling you about!”
“Some low-level dealer that you
think
might be selling speed? Forget it! Wigmore would wipe his ass with that request.”
“Lou, she is selling ounce level for sure. She supplies all the speed dealers in the bar.”
“And how do you know that?”
Danny looked at Jack.
This should be interesting.
“Managed to turn an informant. He gave me the lowdown on the place.”
“Really?” Louie spoke to Jack but stared at Danny. “You came up with an informant pretty quick. Is this person reliable?”
Danny felt uneasy.
Christ, is he like Jack? What way are my eyes supposed to look?
Jack answered for him. “We got lucky. Did surveillance like you told us. Caught a guy with an ounce of speed and managed to flip him. I haven't told you the best part yet. It's a match. The lab matched the ounce with the meth at the murder scene and the meth associated to Satans Wrath back east. They've obviously started a new connection with the club out here!”
“Sounds like a reasonable theory.”
“This is a good opportunity to take a swipe at Satans Wrath. Give Wigmore the details; he's bound to approve it!”
“I'll speak with Wigmore, but first, I want you to talk with Homicide.”
“I've been doing inside surveillance. This isn't the place for people in suits.”
“I'll vouch for that,” said Danny, glancing at his hand.
“They don't have to go inside and hold your hand. I'll call them myself.”
Jack and Danny took a seat and waited while Louie called CC. He relayed the information and listened, then hung up.
“Well?” Jack asked. “Are they coming to babysit?”
“They're not interested yet. CC has worked on Satans Wrath before. She said they never talk on their phones and never rat each other out.”
“So they don't want to be involved?” Jack's voice sounded upbeat.
“She appreciates what you are doing but says she's not interested unless you have something more substantial.”
“She's got a point,” Danny said. “How do we take on an army like that? They must have hundreds of dealers, maybe thousands.”
“Have to work our way up to the multi-kilo level,” said Jack. “Catch a club member who has the inside track. Someone willing to talk.”
“But these guys have a reputation for never talking,” replied Danny.
“We'll see about that,” replied Jack. His voice sounded cold.
“Maybe get an undercover operator inside the club?” suggested Danny.
Jack shook his head. “Won't work.”
Danny looked at Louie, who explained. “They test their strikers for at least two years. Make them do all sorts of things. Robberies, drug trafficking, maybe murder.
Things that UC operators can't do. Jack is right. You need to turn someone on the inside.”