The Debt Collector (Book 1 of a Jack Winchester Organized Crime Action Thriller) (Jack Winchester Vigilante Justice Thriller Series) (7 page)

* * *

A
t The Thistle Inn
, he’d spent the first half an hour at the bar observing the comings and goings of locals. The establishment appeared to draw in all types of people, young and old. Some ate, others danced, and a few gathered at the bar. Dimly-lit antique lights illuminated small leather booths filled with families and couples. At the far end of the room there were two pool tables, a cluster of slot machines, and a door that led out to a set of washrooms. In the corner, a colorful retro jukebox played everything from old sixties hits to the modern day noise they called music.

Any number of people might have seen Matt Grant that night. He’d known that if anyone would remember Grant coming in, it would have been the bartender, a fat guy with salt and pepper hair. As conversation flowed, he soon learned his name was Alan Nock, the owner and only bartender at the Inn besides the one that came in on the weekends. At first it was all casual small talk about the area, passing comments as Alan refilled patrons’ glasses and wiped down the mahogany bar. Eventually Jack dropped Matt’s name. While Alan didn’t appear to register what he had said, a middle-aged man wearing a Yankees baseball cap at the far end of the bar had.

The man went from being captivated by the ball game playing on the overhead television to curiously glancing over. After that, Alan began questioning him. Had Jack known him? Jack replied that he was staying at the motel and had heard about the tragedy. The fact that he’d mentioned he was staying there seemed to put the bartender at ease. As for the man at the end of the bar, seeing him later speaking on a cellphone and eyeing Jack nervously was disconcerting—to say the least.

What he had managed to get out of the bartender was that Matt Grant had frequented the inn most evenings. He was known to play a couple of games of pool with work buddies and enjoy his beer. Alan had seen him chatting with his father that night; nothing that was out of the usual. When asked what he had done for a living, Alan appeared to pretend he didn’t hear the question. Instead, he simply ended the conversation by attending to another customer. Jack waited for him to return, but the following hour the man kept himself busy with other patrons and made it painfully obvious that whatever Matt Grant had done for a living, he wasn’t going to divulge.

As the afternoon wore on, a group of five men came in and joined the lone man at the far end of the bar. Out the corner of his eye Jack could see them glance over. A few minutes later, they gathered around a pool table. Some might consider what he did next stupidity, but he knew supper with Dana wouldn’t exactly be the best place to have a conversation about her dead husband. Indeed, the very thought of it all was confusing. Was Matt dead or in hiding?

Buying a couple pitchers of beer, he had Alan bring them over to the men, following him and introducing himself. There were two things that he knew were true about any man, especially those in small towns. They loved beer and challenges, anything that would transport them out of the mundane. He worked both angles that night. He told them he was only in town for a few nights and he couldn’t pass up a chance to rack up a few wins against some locals. Their eyes flared. He could tell it wasn’t anger; it was ego. The exact reaction he had wanted to get out of them. The notion that a city boy thought he could take them for a ride was just too good to pass up. They bought it and racked up the table. Jack laid down a twenty-dollar bill. He had no intention of beating them. Hell, he hadn’t played a game of pool in over six years. But it would give him the opportunity to fish for answers.

After consuming several pitches of beer and winning two games, they soon let down their guard and he was able to discover they all worked down at the marina. All of them were involved in different ways down at the harbor, from mechanical services and rentals to lobster fishing. It didn’t take them long to get around to his interest in Matt Grant. Jack was nonchalant about it. He mumbled that he’d got chatting with Dana up at the motel, who said that he was dead. In between shots, he mentioned how he felt it was tragic that she had to raise a kid by herself.

“They must miss him down at the Marina,” he said.

It just so happened that was where he had worked. According to the guys, he had owned a boat and hauled in large amounts of crab and lobster alongside several of them. It made sense. Already aware that he was distributing narcotics, he had to be getting it in from somewhere. Being a fisherman would have been a perfect cover. Out early in the morning, late in at night. The harbor was only a quarter of a mile from the ocean. No doubt that was how they had been smuggling it in. With this in mind, he used a simple bait and switch tactic of making an assumption about their work in the hopes they would make a slip.

“Must be hard,” Jack said, knocking a ball down the corner hole.

“What is?”

“You know, working all those hours for little pay.”

Tanked up on liquid courage, few men were able to resist the urge to boast, especially those who would have been making an outrageous amount of money from the cocaine Matt had distributed. The expressions on their faces said it all.

“You’d be surprised at how good the pay is,” one of them blurted before another elbowed him, giving him a look of disapproval.

It was enough to confirm his suspicions. None of them stood out as being a leader; they were followers. Town folk who were along for the ride, being led into dangerous waters by the lure of money. But if they weren’t behind it, who was? Who was pulling the strings? Who might have had a reason to hide him or kill him? He made a mental note to ask Dana about the boat. Maybe the money was onboard.

It wasn’t long before they treated him like one of them, patting him on the back when he missed shots and groaning when he came close to winning. Several times he could have won the games, but he wanted to keep them talking, and money had a way of doing that. He stuck around for one more hour before realizing he wasn’t going to get anything more out of them. The one he’d seen initially at the bar clamped down on any questions about what they remembered about that night Matt went missing.

After losing just over a hundred dollars, he dropped his pool cue on the table, bid them farewell, and parted ways.

T
HAT EVENING
, Dana sipped on a glass of Chardonnay wine as she prepared supper. Up from the basement, the clashing of symbols and the rhythmic beat of drums forced out any trace of peace she had hoped to get that evening. She’d lost track of the number of times she had shouted for Jason to keep it down. The only way it could have been any worse was if his friend, Luke Evans, joined him. Between the beating of drums and the squeal of an out-of-tune electric guitar, she was liable to lose her mind long before the stress of managing the motel would cause it.

For this reason, she didn’t hear the knock at the door. It was only for the fact that she turned to refill her glass on the counter that she saw the silhouette of someone through the frosted glass door. She had barely given any thought as to whether or not Jack would show. In fact, she hadn’t expected him to. It caught her off guard and for a second she felt a twinge of nervousness in the pit of her stomach; she’d seen the way the bikers had looked suggestively at her. Taking a deep breath, she went to the door and was relieved to see Jack.

“Hello,” he said, offering a smile that set her at ease.

“I’m glad you decided could come,” she said before peering past him instinctively, checking on the bikes.

“Expecting someone else?”

She gave a smile. “No, I’m…”

She trailed off as her eyes dropped down to the dog beside him.

“Oh, I kind of feel awkward about this, but—hope you don’t mind—I’ve been out most of the day…I didn’t want to leave him, you know…I swear he’ll be on his best behavior.”

“That’s fine. C’mon in; I was just in the kitchen.”

She stepped back and waved them in. As he stepped forward, she caught the fragrance of his cologne. It smelled piney. It had been a long time since she’d had invited a man into her home. Apollo trailed behind him with his nose to the ground.

“Sorry about the noise,” she said before hollering down to Jason. “Jason, can you come on up?”

He continued banging away, oblivious. She closed the basement door, trying to seal in the racket.

“Talented lad you have.”

She chuckled to herself while taking his coat. “I’m sure he’d be flattered to hear that.”

They made their way back into the kitchen, and Dana turned the heat down on the stove. “I hope you like spaghetti?”

“Love it.”

She continued browning the meat and then moved over to the fridge to take out some garlic. “Can I get you glass of wine, or beer, perhaps?”

“Beer sounds good.”

She pulled a frosted bottle out and handed it to him. He took a seat at an oak table at the far end of the kitchen; it was a laid out with placemats, condiments, and glasses. He thought back to the last time he had been in the house, before he had met her. He remembered that he hadn’t lingered long in the kitchen. He’d assumed a large amount of money wouldn’t have been stashed in a cookie jar. As she continued chopping up the garlic, he took in the room. Brand new tiled floors, oak cabinets, stainless steel sinks, pans hovering over a marble kitchen island, and cozy lighting made it feel comforting. Despite the aged appearance of the house on the outside, the inside looked modern, as if it had recently been through a renovation. For a second he wondered if that’s where the money had gone. Maybe it couldn’t be found because they’d sunk it into the home. It was possible. But it didn’t make sense. With so many of the rooms in the motel in disrepair, he imagined they would have used it there, if they had used it at all. It was very possible that Matt had funneled it back into the coke business.

“Do you need a hand?”

“No, I’m good. It should be ready in a few minutes.”

“You?” a voice said from behind him.

Lost in thought, Jack hadn’t noticed Jason walk into the room. He glanced up to see Dana, looking perplexed.

“Jason? Have you met?”

Before he could reply, Jack responded. “Yes, the other day I kind of got lost looking for that steakhouse you had recommended, and he pointed me in the right direction.”

The boy squinted, scrutinizing him.

“Oh, that,” she frowned. “But what were you doing out of school?”

“It was lunchtime.”

She looked at Jack as if to confirm if this was correct, to which he nodded affirmatively. Jason took a seat across from him, clearly looking uncomfortable.

“So you’re a drummer.”

Jason remained silent.

“Jason, he’s asked you a question.”

“Well, kind of obvious isn’t it? I mean, unless you’re deaf.”

“Jason,” she stammered, giving him a look of disapproval.

Jack watched Dana cross the room and whisper into his ear. She lifted a finger. “Excuse us for a moment.”

Outside the room he could hear their faint conversation.

“What is this?” Jason asked.

“He’s a guest. I invited him.”

“You never do that.”

“Is there a problem, Jason?”

“No.”

“Well then show some manners.”

As they returned, Jason took his place across from him.

“Sorry about that,” she said.

“Not a problem.”

Apollo sat by Jack’s side, eyeing everyone.

“I noticed you have a dog’s bed, but no dog?”

Jason’s eyes dropped.

“She went in for surgery,” Dana said.

“Is it serious?”

“A tumor. They were going to drain it. They said there really wasn’t a lot they could do, except make her a little bit more comfortable and then send her home. She didn’t make it out of surgery.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“It’s Jason who’s taken it the hardest. That dog meant everything to him. Didn’t she, Jason?”

Jason didn’t reply. Instead, he glanced down at Apollo, who was now sniffing at his pant legs.

“You can pet him if you want. He won’t bite.”

He could see Jason was hesitant. As he petted him, Apollo licked his hand. Jason scratched behind Apollo’s ear, and the dog laid down beside him.

“Seems he likes you,” Jack said.

“How long have you had him?”

“Six years…” Jack trailed off, recalling how he’d missed out on four of those years while being incarcerated.

“Okay. I think we are ready,” Dana said behind a spiral of steam.

* * *

I
t didn’t take long
for Jack to finish off the last of the spaghetti. He scooped at the plate with a chunk of homemade bread. As he did, he realized Dana and Jason were both watching intently. He smiled, wiping his lips with a napkin.

“There’s some more bread, if you want?”

“Excuse me, I just haven’t tasted a meal like that in…well…I can’t even remember. It was delicious.”

Dana leaned back in her chair, looking pleased with herself. “Do you have any family?”

“I have a sister. Beside Apollo, I live alone.”

“Where’s home?” Jason asked inquisitively.

“The city. Jersey.”

“You mentioned you were here on business. Do you mind me asking what you do?” Dana said, pouring herself another glass of wine. He could feel his body relax from the second beer. It had been a long time since he’d felt comfortable. The food, the company—it made a change.

Jack hesitated before replying. “I’m in collections.”

She laughed. “I thought they did that over the phone.”

“The firm I work for prefers I do it in person.”

“Debt collection in person?”

“Ah, no. I’m a collector. Antiques mainly.”

“Oh.” She burst out laughing. “I thought you meant debts. That would be all I need.”

He shook his head.

“So you buy pieces?”

“Sort of. They tend to keep me on the road a fair bit.”

“You must swing by Maritime Antiques.”

“Yes, I planned to,” he said.

Jason screeched back his chair as he got up. “I have to get back to my drumming.”

He placed his plate on the side.

“Hey it’s your turn to clean up.”

Jason whined. “Come on, Mum, I told Luke I would have this down by the weekend.”

She shook her head. “Go on then,” she said, waving him off. “But no more than another hour.”

“Maybe you can show me your drums later,” Jack added.

Jason paused at the corner for a moment, scanning Jack with an inquisitive eye. “Sure. If you want.” He looked genuinely surprised that anyone would show interest.

“Do you play?” Dana asked.

He chuckled. “No, that’s one of the many talents I don’t possess.”

After Jason left, Dana rose from the table and Jack gave her a hand cleaning up the table. He snuck a glance at her. He imagined what it must have been like for Matt. She wasn’t only a good cook, but excessively easy on the eyes.

“You don’t need to do that,” she said as he rinsed the dishes and loaded them into the dishwasher.

“I really don’t mind.”

They continued talking while she wiped the table down.

“So tell me about your sister.”

He went quiet. It wasn’t that he didn’t have much to say about her, but the thought of opening up to a stranger—it wasn’t something he was ready to do. He kept it general.

“Not a lot to say, really. She’s a couple of years younger than me.”

“What does she do?”

He thought back to what she had been doing when he visited her at the center. Staring into space, her arms showing signs of cuts that had healed over. The look of emptiness in her eyes as if someone had sucked out her soul. She hadn’t spoken in years, not since suffering abuse at the hands of their father.

“Jack?”

He realized he’d zoned out. “By the way, thanks for inviting me tonight.”

“Oh, right. Well, I’m glad you decided to come.”

Dodging her question was abrupt, but the very mention of his sister brought home the realization that he wasn’t there to rehash the past. He had a job to do and couldn’t lose sight of that.