Woman Chased by Crows (37 page)

“I'm shocked. Sam? Aren't you shocked?” Sam was otherwise occupied wiping rhubarb juice off Orwell's statement. “Well
I'm
shocked.”

“When you're through being shocked maybe you can help me out. I need to speak to someone who was part of that team.”

Georgie savoured the last morsels of his favourite treat. “And aren't you just the luckiest police chief in the country?”

“How so?”

“Touchdown Toyota. The dealership on 35? Just south of Bethany? You know who owns it?”

“Remind me.”

“The name Nate Grabowski strike a familiar note?”

“Not even a glimmer.”

“I fear for your soul, my friend.”

Nate Grabowski had the unmistakable look of a former athlete. Rich living had added a substantial layer of lard since his football days, but he still moved like a gladiator. When he saw their badges, his shoulders hunched and he put up meaty hands as if to ward off a linebacker. “What is it this time? Somebody's claiming his brakes quit? Worse? Accelerator pedal stuck? Tell him there's a lineup.”

“Nothing like that, sir,” Stacy said. “We want to talk about football.”

“Oh yeah? Okay. Good. Police starting a kids' team or something? You want some coffee?”

Stacy took the lead. “No, thank you, we don't want to take too much of your time. Need some information, if you can provide it, about the 1982 Argonauts team you played on. Do you remember any trips you made to Montreal to play the Alouettes that year?”

“Nope.”

“Oh.”

“Trick question. They weren't the Alouettes in '82. Montreal Concordes. They went two and fourteen. Don't know how they won two games. Terrible team. They didn't last long.”

“Whatever,” Adele said. “But you
were
with the Argos '82?”

“You know it.”

“You remember that season?”

“Well, hell yeah! We went to the Grey Cup. Played the Eskimos. Exhibition Stadium.”

“Congratulations.”

“We lost. Scored two touchdowns in the first quarter and after that we couldn't do dick.”

“Montreal.”

“What about it?”

“You remember a teammate, Dylan O'Grady?”

“Dilly? Sure. What is this, a background check? You don't think there's a snowball's chance of him getting elected, do you?”

“I wouldn't know, sir.”

“Some diamonds have turned up that Mr. O'Grady may have been involved with,” said Stacy.

“In 1982,” Adele added.

“Oho! Oh yeah, I remember that one. ‘Dilly's Deluxe Diamond Deal.' They were hot, right? I figured. I didn't go in on that one.” He looked from one to the other and shook his head. “Listen, I've only had one bite out of my sandwich, mind if we sit in my office?”

“After you, sir.”

The sandwich waiting on his desk was a foot-long Subway creation. He picked it up and looked at it without affection. “Supposed to be slimming,” he said. “I don't know. Sit, sit.” He put it down without taking a bite and had a sip of Diet Coke instead. “He always had
something
going on the side. Leather jackets, big name handbags for the wives, and every time there'd be a story to go with it.”

“What was the story that went with the diamonds?”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute, it'll come to me. It was a beaut.” This time he had a bite and chewed for a moment. “Now I've got it. Dilly had this pawnbroker. Fat little creep. Always checking out your stuff.”

“Your stuff?” Adele distinctly heard her stomach rumble.

“Yeah, like your watch, like ‘How much you pay for that? I can get you a Rolex,' and then he has like three watches up his arm. That kind of guy.”

“Remember his name?”

“Louie something. I wouldn't buy a newspaper off him.”

“So what was the story they gave out about the diamonds?”

“It's coming to me.” He swallowed. “Right, they belonged to a woman who was
maybe
the great granddaughter of Anastasia or something.”

“You didn't believe it?”

“I never believed his bullshit, excuse my language.”

“No fucking problem,” Adele said.

He laughed. “Right. He even had a couple of real live Russians to back it up.”

“Remember their names?”

“Boris and Natasha. I don't know. Man and a woman. Only met them once. They could speak Russian anyway.”

“You remember what they looked like?” Stacy asked.

“The woman was kinda pretty as I recall. I checked her out. Had a beaky nose. Not ugly beaky, sorta like Barbra Streisand. Dilly was all over her.”

“You think they were involved?”

“Him? Like I say, he always had something going on. I was never into that stuff. I was saving myself.”

“For marriage?” Adele was amused.

“No, shit, saving my
strength
. Wife and I were trying to have a baby. She was taking her temperature every five minutes. I'm telling you, I was on call day and night, and I'd better have the necessary inclinations.”

“Did it work?”

“Four kids. Two of each. Then she packed it in. That's plenty, she said. Get your tubes snipped, I'm retired.”

“What about the Russian man?” Stacy again.

“Him I don't remember. Just a guy. Dylan and the Russian woman were leaning on him pretty hard.”

“In what way?”

“I got the feeling Dilly was taking over the deal.”

“You recall anything about the deal?”

“Dilly wanted to get a bunch of players to kick in a thousand dollars apiece and they'd each get a diamond worth like five times that much.”

“Did he pull it off?”

“Couldn't tell you. I was just having a beer when all this was being discussed. I said no thanks, move your head, there's hockey on or whatever. I figured the diamonds were hot, anyway. I think a couple of the guys bought one, but not as many as Dilly was hoping for.”

“You ever see any of those people again?”

“Not the other two, but I'm pretty sure Dilly snuck the woman into the hotel later that night. Pretty sure.”

“Do you remember anything else Dylan was involved in?”

“Nah, he broke his big toe right around that time. Didn't make the Grey Cup game. Coach was pissed. I heard Dilly joined the cops. Is that right?”

“That's right, sir. He joined the force in 1985.”

“Last guy I would've figured to go legit. He's a smooth operator. Probably why he went into politics, right?”

“Chief? You've got the crown prosecutor on line one.”

“Hello. Mr. Blumberg?”

“Chief. I just found out your daughter is Harold Ruth's lawyer.”

“One of my daughters is one of his lawyers, yes.”

“Is this likely to compromise my case in any way?”

“I shouldn't think so. And for the record, beyond informing me that she'd been asked to work with Georgie Rhem, we have been scrupulous to avoid discussing the matter, even casually.”

“She won't be calling you as a witness?”

“She might, I suppose. I can't see why she would.”

“You were involved in the arrest.”

“I helped identify Dr. Lorna Ruth as the woman who was with Detective Delisle on the night he was killed. After that, it was Metro and
OPP
all the way.”

“Detectives Lacsamana, Heatley, Siffert and Hong. You weren't present at the arrest?”

“No.”

“You didn't see the accused that day.”

“No. They never brought him to the station. Took him straight back to the city.”

“Which they shouldn't have done.”

“Definitely not. He was returned to Dockerty on Wednesday.”

“You realize this makes at least forty-eight hours that the defendant was held incommunicado, unable to speak to a lawyer, not charged, nowhere near where the charge should have been laid.”

“I put it at closer to seventy-two hours.”

“Jesus Lord. Bloody idiots.”

“I understand they've been reprimanded. To what extent I don't know. You'll have to check with Captain Rosebart.”

“We've spoken.”

“For what it's worth, Gord, there were no procedural irregularities at the Dockerty
PD
end.”

“Cold comfort, I'm afraid, Chief.
SIU
is investigating. Police Services are involved. The accused may have grounds for a suit. Toronto hasn't exactly been covering itself in glory lately.”

“I'm sure they'll straighten things out.”

“This isn't about protesters being penned up; this is a murder trial. Which may be seriously compromised.”

“Gordon, if there's any way I can make your lot in life easier you'll let me know, won't you?”

“The only thing I can think of at the moment is your reassurance that the case won't be further embarrassed by the involvement of your daughter.”

“I'd say you have bigger problems than Diana's participation.”

They drove north toward Dockerty, Stacy behind the wheel, Adele working on a Wendy's Double Baconator. “Beaky,” she said with her mouth full. “But not ugly-beaky.”

“Barbra Streisand beaky.”

“You figure the dancer lady ever saw them together?”

“Wouldn't that be nice?”

Adele peeked under the bun, wished she'd gone for a Triple instead, had another chomp. “So what exactly are we doing? What do we know now that we didn't know last week? Not suspect,
know
for fucking fact?”

Stacy was dealing with crawling traffic ahead of her and a huge Kenworth semi climbing up her tailpipe. “We
know
Dylan O'Grady was in Montreal when the first diamonds started to hit the market.” Her words were carefully measured. She was occupied with checking her rear-view mirror and looking up front for the cause of the problem. “We
know
Dylan had dealings with Louie Grova in Montreal.” She spotted it, a pickup with busted shocks and a poorly secured load of hay bales leading the parade. “We
know
he was one of the investigating detectives when the body of Vassili Abramov was discovered in the Beaches.” The Kenworth was filling all the mirrors. “We
know
Abramov was carrying jewels . . .” She suddenly signalled, hit the siren, flashed her reds and passed six cars and the weaving pickup in one long swoop. She continued without any change in tone, “. . . because your partner picked two of them off the grass.”

“That's it?”

Stacy checked the rear-view and smiled as the entire line of traffic behind them came to a lurching stop while the pickup made a wobbly left turn onto a side road. “I can tell you what we
don't
know for a fact. ”

“A
fucking
fact.”

“We
don't
know for a fact if the two Russians, Boris and Natasha, were really Viktor Nimchuk and Ludmilla Dolgushin. We don't know if O'Grady and Ludmilla Dolgushin had sex that night in the hotel. We don't know if she was carrying the big sapphire at the time.”