Race (17 page)

Herrera was feeling left out, so he said, “What’s the story over there?” He jerked his head in the direction of the building.
 
“Detective
Beadsworth
never detailed me.”

“We believe it’s possible that
Nex
is being produced in there,” I said.
 

“Okay, Great.”
 
Herrera rubbed his hands with pleasure.
 
“Then let’s go.”

“Um, I think we should wait,” I said scratching the back of my head.
 
I didn’t like saying this but I might have to take command.
 
“If we see anything suspicious then we go in, only after we get approval from Detective Garnett or Sergeant Aldrich.”
 
I couldn’t believe it. I was sounding like
Beadsworth
.

“Yes, of course,” Herrera said.
 
He placed his hands in his pockets and squinted.
 
“Something doesn’t make sense.”

“What?” I said.

“Wouldn’t you be suspicious if you saw three guys standing across the road looking at you?”

I nodded.
 
It would be suspicious, even though the road dividing us was very wide.

“If you were making a product like
Nex
wouldn’t you have more safeguards?”

“Probably,” I said.

“Maybe,” Barnes said.
 
“They’re trying not to be suspicious and that is why they have their lab in a place like this.”

I was trying very hard to understand their point.

“Maybe
Nex
is not being produced there but somewhere else.” Barnes moved his head in all directions.
  
“Maybe it is being produced inside one of those stores.”

What?
 
That made absolutely no sense.

“It could be inside that textile store,” he pointed.
 
“Or that barber shop.
 
Or that convenience store, or that pizza parlor or that bubble tea shop.
 
Maybe we’re purposely being diverted.”

“That was what I was thinking.” Herrera agreed.

Okay
.
 

“I like your theory,” I said, narrowing my eyes.
 
“Why…don’t…you guys go and scope out the area.
 
Find out what you can.
 
I’ll watch the building.”

***

“What?” said Martin, flabbergasted.
 
“
Nex
is not going to be in tablet form?”

“We’re not sure,” Ms. Zee answered.

Martin took a deep breath and adjusted his tie.
  
He laughed.
  
“Ms. Zee, this is bad business.
  
We have been marketing
Nex
in tablet form.
  
We’ve even distributed samples.”

“Yes and we need to get them back.”

“All of them?”

“Kong has already retrieved some, while others have guaranteed on their lives that the samples were destroyed.
 
Only one left. Cal Murray has it.”

“Isn’t that the owner of the House of Jam?”

“Yes, Kong and I will pay him a visit tonight.”

***

Alone again, I rubbed my temples.
 
Something was bothering me but I couldn’t put my finger on what.
  
I felt like I was supposed to remember something—a date, a number, something.
 
Did I have some unfinished business? Was I supposed to meet someone?
  
Think Jon.
 
Think.
 

There was enough money in the bank for the rent, so that wasn’t it.
 
The car insurance was paid last week, so that wasn’t it either.
 
Cable bill. Check. Telephone bill.
 
Check.
  
Returned old library materials.
 
Check.
 

I was supposed to go somewhere, but where?

My cell phone rang.

“Hello,” I said.

“Hello, big shot,” said the familiar voice.
 
It was Roberta
Collecci
, from PEU.
  
“Since your promotion you’ve forgotten about us,” she said.

“Us?” I said.
 
“Who is this?”

She went silent.
 
“Jon, it’s Roberta from Parking Enforcement.”

“Roberta? I remember.
 
One of those little people who give out tickets,” I said snobbishly.

“Little people?” She snapped.

I started to laugh.

“Jon, I’m glad you haven’t changed.
 
You’re still obnoxious.”

“Thank you.”

“So, how’s everything?”

“I’m on a stake-out.” I lowered my voice.
 
“The ultimate drug is being produced in the building across from me.
 
I have my gun ready.”
  
I began whispering.
 
“Any moment when signaled I will run across and break the door down.”

That didn’t affect her.
 
“You’re standing around, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” I said like a child who’s just been told he’s fibbing.
 
“So what’s up?”

“I just called to see if you were still alive.
 
No one at the drug squad gave you a hard time?

“Nah, they knew I’m not the type of guy they could mess with.”

“Sure, Jon,” she said.
  
“Are you with the drug squad indefinitely?”

“No.
 
Just for another twenty years.”

She didn’t laugh.

Roberta missed me.
 
I felt guilty.
 
With everything happening around me I didn’t think twice about her.
 

“You miss giving parking tickets?” she said.

“Yeah, sometimes,” I said.
 
“I did enjoy my daily routine.”

“It’s not the same without you,” she said.
 
“No one around to tell stories.”

“Hey,” I said in a defensive tone.
 
“Those things actually happened to me.”

“What about the time you said you saw ghosts outside your window.”

“That was true.
 
They wanted to borrow money.”

“Why would they need money?”

“Hey, I don’t know.
 
These modern ghosts don’t care about scaring people any more.
 
All they want is someone to spot them a twenty.”

“What about the time you said you scored fifty-two points in a basketball game.”

“Is that what you heard? Let me clarify.
 
I said my team scored fifty-two points.
 
I didn’t even get to touch the ball.”

She didn’t laugh but I knew she was smiling.

“Roberta, something is bothering me and I don’t know what it is.
 
Am I supposed to do something soon?”

There was silence.
 
“Yes, but I’m not going to tell you.
 
We had a deal you were not going to depend on me.”

“But this is seriously bothering me.
 
This could jeopardize my new position.”

“No way.”

“Just this once.”

“Nope.”

“Is it someone I know?”

“Not saying a single word.”

“Is it a date I’m supposed to remember?”

“Not going to get pressured.”

“Yes, I’ve got it,” I said in a fake British accent.
 
“It’s our meeting anniversary.”

“Meeting anniversary? What is that?”

“It’s when we met the first time.”

“Get help, Jon. You’re hopeless.”

“Yes, and you know it and you still persist in behaving like this.”

“Jon, I just called to see how you were doing. Not to get badgered about things you can’t remember.”

Herrera and Barnes strolled toward me in the distance.
 
“Roberta, can I call you later?
 
I’ve got to go.”

“You take care of yourself.”

“Will do.”

“Anything?” I said, hanging up.

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” replied Herrera.
  
“The owner of one of the convenience stores said that in this area stores come and go.
  
One week you see a new restaurant and four weeks later that same restaurant will be out of business.”

There was silence.

“Anything happen while we were investigating?” Barnes said.

I shook my head.
 
“Nothing unusual.”

Silence again.
  

“You’re ringing, dude,” I heard Barnes say.

“What?” I said.

“Your cell phone is ringing.”

I pulled out my cell and said, “Hello.”

It was
Beadsworth
. “Leave Herrera and Barnes and meet me at the House of Jam.
 
You know where it is?”

“Sure I do.”

“Good.”
 
He hung up.

I turned to Barnes, “Where is the House of Jam, anyways?”

“On Queen Street West, near Simcoe Street,” he answered.
 
“Why?”

“I have to go there.”
 

“We keep an eye out?” asked Herrera.

“Yeah, I guess until you hear from Garnett or Aldrich.”

THIRTEEN

I drove along Queen Street West searching desperately for the House of Jam.
 
I asked several passers-by if they knew where it was but they shook their heads.
 
Most of them were middle-aged, so I guessed they were not into that stuff.
 
A young kid, wearing the Canadian flag as a bandana, told me it was around the corner, but he said it had no signs or markings in front of it.
  
Great, that was going to help me a great deal.

I parked at the corner of Queen and Simcoe with the full view of the street.
 
From here I was hoping to see
Beadsworth
.
 

I’m not much of a club hopper.
 
In fact, this was my first time being inside a club.
 
My mother never allowed me to get involved in music.
 
She considered music the path to lawlessness.
 
She couldn’t stand those who drove around blaring loud music from their speakers.
 

I waited for
Beadsworth’s
station wagon.
 
The GM swerved around and parked a few cars away.

“Why are we here?” I asked.

“Cal Murray is willing to meet us,”
Beadsworth
said.
 
“He’ll be out in a minute.”

“Where is this House of Jam?” I asked, looking around.

“You’re standing in front of it,” he replied.

I turned to a heavy black door.
 
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
 
I moved back to get a full view of the place.
 
The building, from the outside, looked like an abandoned storehouse.
 
There was graffiti sprayed everywhere.
 

A few minutes later a man appeared at the door.
 
He had gray hair and he was sporting a goatee.
 
He smiled and extended his hand, “I’m Cal Murray.”