The Filthy Few: A Steve Nastos Mystery (18 page)

23

The Grand Hotel was a twelve-storey brown brick rectangle located on Dundas Street East near Fifty-Two Division in the downtown core. The Grand had had its fair share of overdoses, jumpers and homicides over the years. Nastos had tracked a sexual predator here who had set up dozens of bogus photo-shoot operations all over Canada. Nastos found him by identifying the bedspreads in the photos by checking Google Images for every hotel room in Toronto. Who would have thought that those would ever serve a useful purpose for law enforcement?

As Nastos entered through the main lobby he found that it had been remodelled since he had last been inside. First off, the place had been washed, which was in and of itself a pleasant surprise. Sombre wall colours had been covered with fresh paint. Also, the security desk now confronted visitors and was equipped with security cameras. The staff wore uniforms that were formal and there were many more of them. Observing the procedure of a guest in front of him, he noted that patrons now had to swipe their room cards to gain access to the elevators.

Nastos saw Karen seated in the crowded dining area of the hotel's deli kiosk. For a moment he observed the customers around her, people engaged in loud conversations competing with the ambient noises of meandering lodgers and out-of-town tourists planning their assaults on the city.

Karen must have seen on his face a reluctance to speak in the public area as he had originally asked. She held up a room key. “I'm on the top floor; you won't believe the view this place has.”

Nastos wondered if Karen had somehow engineered a disruptive lobby so he would go someplace private with her. She overthought everything and had always tried to orchestrate him. Spending time with her had always been mentally exhausting. What he missed about Madeleine was how direct she was.

“Looks like a dive on the outside.” The proximity and noise from the other patrons tilted the balance. “After you?”

As she stood, she smoothed her pants then brushed a lock of her hair from her face. “The rooms are nice too. I was here last night and tonight. I've made arrangements to work from my mom's up in Orillia for the next week until this mess cools down.”

“Good 'ole Orillia. Like stepping back into the
1980
s.”

Karen smiled, and for the first time since he could remember so did Nastos.

Nastos noted that the room key was also necessary to activate the elevator as well as access it. It was an added security feature they likely used to keep the homeless zombies or mid-level courtesans — the newly recycled term for prostitutes — out of the hotel. The ride up was awkward, the two of them alone in the tiny place. He didn't have to read the expression on her face to see that she was embarrassed about what had happened before at Viktor's.

“Thanks for agreeing to meet me, Karen.”

“Of course, this way you can berate me in person.” She raised her chin defying him to lay into her.

Only that wasn't why he had asked her here. “Karen, I have always said I have feelings for you, just not those feelings. You're smart, beautiful —”

“Can we just get to the bad news part? You might be complimenting me for a really long time.”
If she thinks she is fooling anyone with the tough act, maybe she
is
crazy.
He gave up the eye contact and made note of what she was wearing, a tightly fitted long-sleeve shirt and cargo pants. Carscadden, like any other guy with a pulse, would endorse the outfit. Nastos was hoping to see more flesh, but not for the reason Karen would appreciate.

When the elevator door opened she pointed to the left and led him to her room. She slid in the magnetic card, the light turned green and she pushed the heavy door open.

Hardwood floors, two twin beds and a gigantic
TV
on the wall; it was an efficient use of space. Karen kicked off her shoes and sat on the bed closest to the balcony. At first she sat with her hands pinched between her knees, then she slid back, her back to the headboard and her legs crossed, leaving room for him that he didn't take. Instead he walked over to the window and took in the view. It faced west, toward Yonge Street. To the south he could see the top of the
CN
Tower where it extended head and shoulders above the big banks. City Hall, the
ROM
, many of the big city attractions were within walking distance.

He turned to face her. He saw that the way he was being distant was rude. He was keeping her in suspense and it wasn't fair. “Despite what happened last night I want you to know that Carscadden and I are still working the case.”

“Good.” She read something in his face and grew concerned. “What? Did you get somewhere?”

“Yeah. But first, Karen, can you roll your sleeves up?”

“What? Why?”

“Jacques mentioned something before that I overlooked.”

She shrugged and slowly peeled the sleeves back one at a time. She could only get them back to her elbow, which was far enough for what Nastos needed. He sat on the bed, his body facing hers, his feet on the floor. He turned on the nightlight and slowly reached out for her right arm first. He brought her closer to him, finding the red marks and scrapes that Falconer had left.
How had Karen said it?
When she was trying to keep Falconer from going out and hooking at night?

The marks were on the underside of her arms, on the smoother, paler side. He traced a finger along the scrape. Karen squirmed at first then yanked her arm away as she giggled. “What is it?”

The wounds were very minor, they would never bruise and there would be no proof that they had ever even existed in a day or two. It was her emotional reaction that told him more than the evidence of the marks. “Don't get mad.”

“Too late. I'm not just mad, I'm crazy, remember?”

He exhaled and looked her in the eyes. “Met with the two cops, Morrison and Radix, earlier today. I flat out asked them if they killed Falconer and it was pretty clear from Radix, the alpha of the two, that he didn't do it. I had to be sure it wasn't you.”

“Me?” Karen's voice boomed at first, then she dialed it down to an angry growl. “Why the hell would I kill her?” She bolted to her feet and began to pace. “This is why you're here? You think that I killed her? I dreamed this whole thing up? Did I kill Walker too? Am I bipolar and running around killing people so I can have you investigate me? Are you serious?”

Nastos closed his eyes and just took the first salvo. When she paused to breathe, he raised his hands in surrender. “Listen, Karen, she's dead, right? Well it wasn't me or Carscadden or the two cops . . . You told me yourself how annoying she was. We both know guys who did Witness Protection, we both know how exasperating it is to try to cajole, bribe, parent, intimidate these people into not self-destructing.”

“So I killed her. Makes perfect sense.”

“For the record, I didn't think you murdered her, okay? I just — I dunno, I just had to be sure.”

She wasn't happy.

He changed the subject. “Listen, me and Carscadden got our asses kicked today. Two bikers.”

“Good, you probably deserved it,” she said, turning from near the giant
TV
and coming back toward the bed.

“We watched the cops do an armed robbery of a tattoo parlour. They spun out of there and they were being followed and recorded by two thugs. We followed the thugs and confronted them at the King Edward Hotel. They were armed. We barely made it out with our lives.”

Karen's demeanour changed from disinterest to disbelief. “What?”

“We got into a fight, we lost. They took our wallets and Carscadden's cellphone. I had to put Josie in hiding at Viktor's place. Carscadden's wife is there too and we're not going back to the law office until this is sorted out.”

“I called you to come here. What do you mean you don't have your phone?”

Nastos brought out his new phone. “I cancelled mine. The carrier company nuked the
SIM
card and set me up with another device. I was off the grid for a few hours but I needed a phone to look after Josie and stay in touch with you and the cops.”

She put her hands on her hips and mulled everything over. “I need a drink.”

“Tell me about it.” Nastos slumped down on the bed, rubbing his hands over his face. “The cops shot Walker by mistake. They were doing off-duty drug buys to advance their careers. Bikers were there and happened to record it. My guess is that they were hired to kill Ann Falconer. Falconer hung out with Walker. Then she got away and disappeared. In the meantime, while looking for her, they began blackmailing the cops, for what reason I don't know yet.”

“Seems petty for bikers. You said they were hired to kill Ann?”

“Yeah. They were the enforcement team within the biker organization. The Filthy Few, as they call themselves.”

“If I had a job I'd be writing this down. I was fired today.”

Nastos looked into her eyes but didn't know what to say. He felt his shoulders sag as he stared at the floor for a moment.

“So Morrison and Radix were blackmailed. That was how this whole thing started.”

Nastos said, “They are such wonder rookies, they felt trapped and played along, hoping to somehow earn their way out. But they weren't doing a very good job of it. All they've done so far is dig themselves a deeper hole.”

“But now we know what's going on.”

“Yeah, so we confronted the cops and they pulled a gun on us. The bikers say if
they
kill us, they can go free.”

“That's obviously a lie.”

“Thankfully the rookies figured that out or we'd be dead right now.”

“So now what?” Karen dropped down onto the bed too close to him and had to slide away. “You going to the cops?”

Nastos had thought over that obvious option before and kept coming up with the same answer. “It comes down to the fact that I don't trust them to protect me and Josie. They might be there for a year or so during the trial, and then what? How long was Falconer safe? Those bikers were sent to kill her and it seems they did it.”

Karen sat back on the bed and crossed her legs. “You know, you have to wonder, how many random pedestrian strikes, how many random car accidents, how many deaths by misadventure are actually people in Witness Protection that the police weren't able to protect.”

Nastos considered it. “The public, we'd never know the numbers. It could be dozens a year. How would you ever find out about it?”

“It would be just another court case where the witness didn't show up.” Karen grabbed a second pillow and bunched it up behind her back. “So you think they killed Ann?”

Nastos smiled. “Well, I guess if it wasn't the cops, then they're the only other option.”

“So arrest them for killing Ann. Go to the cops, Nastos. It's the smart move.”

“First, Jacques would have to convince management that it was a murder and not a suicide or accident, only with no video or witnesses.”

“Well, I have news for you, sunshine. Jacques was transferred out of town today. I was meeting with him when he was told the news. They sent him to Windsor for a week to scribe for a spin crew.” Karen read the expression on his face. “Is everything okay?”

Nastos stood up and peered out the window to the city below. He contemplated telling her. “Not everyone in the club has the balls to kill. These guys had Filthy Few patches. These are the soldiers of the club. If we arrest them then I'll feel safer. But I'll be honest with you, Karen. I'll feel the safest if they were dead.”

Karen stood up and came over to him. She touched his forearm gently and led him back to the bed. He expected her to guide him to sit but before she did she wrapped her arms around him and held him close. He felt himself returning the embrace and holding her.

She said, “To even consider this you must be so scared for Josie.”

He tried to agree but nothing came out. It was a line of thinking that he didn't want to cross his mind for the protective feelings it would unleash. He had to maintain control more than ever at times like this.

“Listen, you're not alone. You're the most determined person I have ever met. You're smart, you're strong. If there is a way to get out of this, you can do it.”

“When I took on your case I had no idea I'd get a biker gang after me.” Karen tightened up. He hoped that hadn't come out wrong. He didn't blame her for any of this.

She said, “Listen. I can feel how tired you are. I can see what this is doing to you.” She pulled away from him and directed him to rest his back against the headboard. “Here, relax a little.”

He protested, “Karen, I —”

“Do it.”

He saw the determination on her face and relented. He lay back.

“Eyes closed,” she said. “Humour me. It's a meditation thing. You need to slow things down and we're going to go through it all again rationally.”

He reluctantly closed his eyes.

“Good. Now, let's take the emotion out and go through this together. Listen to the sound of my voice. Steve Nastos does not exist. Nothing you have said, done or thought has ever existed. You were just now born in this room and this room is all there is. Me and you. This is everything. There is no before, no after, nothing.”

He listened to her, feeling her moving on the bed to lie next to him. She was on her side, her lips close to his ear. He could feel the shape of her body, the curves of her leg resting against him and her warmth.

“This is a time and place with no consequence, origin or moral judgement. Just you and me.”

He felt her reach past him, intentionally or not her breasts brushing past his face as she turned off the nightlight. He heard the click, the room became darker, and as she withdrew she slowly grazed her arm then her hand down his body. For a long time she said nothing, beginning again in whispers. “There is nothing but the sound of my voice. Nothing can hurt you here. Only believe in what you feel.” Her legs began rubbing over him as she pressed, then grinded closer and closer.