A Delicate Matter. Don Easton

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      “Definitely.”

      “That’s all I need is to wake up dead. Okay, I’ll do it. Dwayne can take care of the remainin’ bag. Except …”

      “Except what?”

      “If I’s gone a coupla days, Dwayne’ll be stranded out there … but guess it’s okay. He’s got food.”

      “Give him my number,” Jack suggested. “If you end up in the hospital and he needs anything, tell him to call me.”

      “Yeah … okay.”

      It was 6:00 p.m. and Jack was on his way home from work when Larry called back and said, “I’m at Vancouver General. You was right, b’y. It’s me appendix. I’m goin’ in for surgery in a few minutes. They think it just ruptured an’ said I’ll be here for at least five days. I better call Banjo and —” A cry of pain and a nurse’s voice in the background interrupted his sentence.

      “Forget about Banjo until after your surgery,” Jack said.

      “I … okay, okay.”

      Two hours later Jack received a call that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

      “Officer Taggart! Officer Taggart! It’s Dwayne! I can’t get hold of Larry! He won’t answer!”

      “It’s okay, Dwayne, settle down,” Jack said calmly. “Your brother had to go to the hospital, but he’ll be okay.”

      “I know! He tol’ me, but they’re stealing all our bags,” Dwayne said excitedly. “I gotta stop ’em.”

      “Who’s stealing the bags?” Jack’s tone sharpened.

      “Three men in a boat. They got three bags already and went back for the rest.”

      “Do they know you’re there?”

      “No, I was hiding — but I’m gonna trick them and smash their motor,” Dwayne said, sounding pleased with himself.

      “No, stay hiding,” Jack ordered.

      “I got a rock.”

      “No! Don’t do anything except stay hidden.”

      The sound of rock smashing on metal told Jack he wasn’t heard. “Stop!” Jack screamed into the phone. “Can you hear me? Stop!”

      The noise stopped and Dwayne said, “Uh-oh, they’re coming. Uh-oh.”

      “Run!” Jack yelled. “Get away from there!”

      Then he heard Dwayne shout, “I’m a deputy! You-you’re in big trouble!”

      “Think you can fuck with my boat and get away with it?” a distant man yelled.

      “Stay away from me! I’m warning you!” Dwayne shrieked.

      “Why you little fucker!” The man sounded surprised, as well as angry.

      The sound of a gunshot caused Jack’s arm to twitch.

      “He shot me, Officer Taggart!” Dwayne cried. “In my tummy. I’m gonna die, aren’t I? Oh no, oh no …”

      “Dwayne! Fall down! Pretend you’re dead!”

      “It really hurts,” Dwayne sobbed. “I — Stay away!” he cried. “You go away!”

      A second gunshot echoed over the phone, followed by what sounded like the phone bouncing off a rock and into water. Jack stood with his mouth agape, holding his breath as he strained to listen. All he heard was his own conscience screaming at him. Telling him he’d screwed up and that Dwayne had been murdered as a result.

      Chapter Seven

      It was an hour and forty-five minutes later when Jack and Laura arrived in a high-speed Zodiac boat in the company of officers from the Integrated Border Enforcement Team.

      Powerful spotlights cut through the darkness and illuminated the shoreline. As the boat approached the shore, Jack leaped off into the knee-deep water of the rising tide and ran toward the pathway. His calls to Dwayne went unanswered.

      It was midnight by the time Corporal Connie Crane of the Integrated Homicide Investigation Team arrived on another I-BET boat, along with officers from the Forensic Science and Identification Service.

      Jack took Connie aside and tersely told her the background of the situation, starting with his and Laura’s first meeting with Larry and Dwayne and ending with the details of the call he’d received from Dwayne earlier.

      “I take it you’ve checked the area?” Connie asked, glancing around.

      “I-BET searched the shoreline and out in the ocean while we were waiting for you. They didn’t find anything. Laura and I went to where Larry and Dwayne have a tent, but there was also nobody there. We stayed off the path so as not to contaminate the scene. Same goes for where the tent is pitched. I did look inside, but was careful not to step on any footprints — not that I saw any. The ground is matted with pine needles. There’s one thing I noticed later,” Jack said, looking forlornly back at the entrance to the path.

      “What’s that?”

      “Larry had a blue nylon rope tied to some cement blocks that he used for mooring his boat. The rope and the blocks are gone.”

      “I’ll call the dive team out in the morning,” Connie said. “For now, I want a written statement. Word for word of the phone call you got tonight, if you can remember.”

      Remember? I’ll never forget it. “Already done,” Jack replied. “It’s on the boat I arrived in.” He pointed to the I-BET Zodiac.

      “Do you think you’d be able to recognize the voice of whoever yelled at Dwayne for screwing with his boat?”

      “The guy wasn’t close enough to the phone. Maybe even running. With the sound of the waves … well, I’d never recognize the voice.”

      “You sure?” Connie asked, a hint of suspicion in her voice.

      Jack knew she was thinking about previous cases they’d worked where some people he investigated turned up dead. “If I could identify the voice, I’d be after you to let me listen to whatever suspects you might come up with — but I can’t.”

      “How’d you and Laura know to come here the first time and look for a grow-op?”

      “From another informant.” Jack swallowed some bile. Christ, I wonder if my voice sounds as acidic as my throat feels.

      “Is there any way this other informant could’ve had something to do with —”

      “No. He wanted the drugs to be delivered by Larry to save his own ass. He’s definitely not involved.”

      “Could the Gypsy Devils have come to do a rip-off … maybe not realizing Larry had a brother?”

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