Niki pulled out of the lot, and I opened the door and jogged over to the parking spot where the BMW had sat.
No wallet.
Instead there was a small plastic bag, like the ones they put the spare button in when you buy a pair of pants. The bag contained a chrystalline powder that made me think of cocaine, except it was black.
I wondered what Amy might make of it. Maybe the ring had already started working its mojo.
Back in the office, Jamar and Kara started firing questions at me.
“Was that the guy-.”
“Did he have-.”
“Did you just give him the-.”
“Yes, yes and yes.”
Smiles crossed both of their faces, as they realized what I had done.
“What did he drop?”
“I don’t know.” I held the bag up, showing them the powder it contained. “But I have a feeling my police officer friend might be interested in taking a look at it. Now,” I cringed as I looked at Kara, hoping for the best, “any luck?”
She pulled the office camera out from behind her back.
“Yup. Three great shots.”
“Thank you! Wasn’t sure if you would get it.”
“C’mon, give me credit.”
“Hey, you deserve it. Thanks. So, you said we can access photos from the parking lot security cameras too, right?”
“Yup. I just go to their website, type in our password, and voila.”
“Great. Let’s see if we can print off a few pictures, then.”
Maybe the old adage was right after all. What comes around, goes around.
That night Ted called to say he was going to be out of town for a few days. Tournament in Barrie. My plan was to take advantage of the quiet and spent the night channel surfing, but I happened to come across an article in the Globe while eating dinner.
CORPORATE FRAUD TRIAL COMMENCES
Key Witness Commits Suicide
TORONTO — The trial of Ruscan Industries’ CEO Maxim Legenko commenced yesterday, with opening statements from Legenko’s defence and the Crown prosecutors trying the case.
Legenko was formally indicted two years ago on charges of embezzling almost $18 million in company funds and laundering criminal proceeds through Ruscan Industries accounts.
However the prosecution was dealt a severe blow yesterday when Andrew Simpson-Doig, a key witness and former senior officer of Ruscan Industries subsidiary Timber Circle LC, was found dead in a Forest Hill mansion in what is assumed to have been a suicide. Simpson-Doig had been staying with Declan Quinn, Chairman of Global Youth Charities. Quinn and Simpson-Doig graduated together from the London School of Economics in 1971.
Crown Prosecutor Barbara Moodie indicated that, while police will be investigating Mr. Simpson-Doig’s death, preliminary findings suggest no indication of wrongdoing.
“Unfortunately these trials can cause tremendous stress for all involved, in particular witnesses who are called to testify in court. We pass on our best wishes to Mr. Simpson-Doig’s family.” Ms. Moodie later advised reporters that the death was not expected to impact the Crown’s case against Mr. Legenko. She did confirm that a second witness, still unnamed, has agreed to enter witness protection and is presently under RCMP watch at an undisclosed location.
Alec Lawson of Lawson Kenetti, who was representing Mr. Simpson-Doig, could not be reached for comment.
I couldn’t finish my sandwich.
“Goddamn it.” I pushed the plate away. If O.J.’s trial and the Bush administration weren’t sufficient evidence that there was in fact no justice in the world, this was. Imagine the luck.
Or was it luck?
The article got me thinking about the mugging and the stolen “dowsing device”. And the more I thought about it, the madder I got. I had a bad feeling I knew why Clay and I had been robbed, and I didn’t like it one damned bit.
I had to get that package back.
CHAPTER 23
Two days later, Amy agreed to get together at a local Timmies for breakfast, provided I sprung for her coffee. Man, can that woman drink coffee.
“Kuzmenko’s dealing something.”
I passed her the plastic baggy Niki had left in our parking lot, cupping my hand around it to hide it from the view of the others in the restaurant. Amy’s eyes widened, but she took it from me.
“Any idea what it is? I gotta admit, I’ve seen stuff like pot, hash. But when it comes to pills and powder, I have no idea.”
“Good. Keep it that way,” she murmured, reaching into the bag with two fingers. She pinched a few grains and held them up to the light.
“Well, well. Rev.”
“Rev?”
“Rev. Supposed to be short for Revelation. It’s new. We just started hearing about it last year. The hospitals notify us of possible overdoses, that kind of thing, so we can monitor the street. We’ve had three kids die in the past six months because of this shit. But we’ve only been able to get a couple of pills for study. This is the most product we’ve been able to get a hold of to date.”
“You think Niki is dealing this shit?”
“If he is, he just moved to the top of our hit list.”
I gave her an edited account of Niki’s visit to the office, leaving out the part about him “mugging” me. Not sure what she would have thought about the whole ring thing, but I wasn’t about to get into it.
It occurred to me that this might be a particularly good time for Niki to have a run of bad luck.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.” But I couldn’t hide my grin. Maybe things were looking up after all.
After work I picked up Ted at the apartment and we headed over to the rink.
I don’t play a lot of hockey anymore. My body can’t handle the aches, pains, bumps and bruises. It also can’t handle the post-game beer and wings. But Ted’s car was in the shop, and so he talked me into joining him for a pick-up game. Fact was, he hadn’t found a cabbie yet who would let him put his equipment in their car.
Unfortunately, he had failed to point out we were playing at Pineview Arena. Not the easiest spot to get to in rush hour traffic. I found myself experimenting with a number of combination profanities as I slogged through traffic on the 427, then the 401.
A bunch of the regulars were already in the change room when we arrived, thus explaining the stench emanating from the hallway. With a deep breath and a prayer, I headed in to get ready.
The puck was deep in the corner, right below the Hyundai ad on the boards. I charged in, determined to beat the defender to it.
Too slow. He picked it up and rounded the net, with me hot on his heels. I was hoping Chili would be there to cut him off, but the lazy bugger was headed to the bench, sucking air like a long haul trucker. He was two years younger than me, but skating like a senior. So I continued my chase, tapping my opponent’s shin with my stick on every stride, to let him know I was coming fast.
Good lead pass to one of their wingers, who sliced between our defenders and roared in on Ted unobstructed. Shimmy right, drag back left. Ted stayed with him, but was too slow sliding to the post.
Goal. Three — two for the bad guys.
“Shit!” Ted glared at his two defencemen, who knew better and had headed off for a change. I laughed as I joined Chili on the bench.
The next shift barely cleared the zone before the other team gained possession and pressed again. This time, they took position in our end of the rink and began cycling the puck around the perimeter, looking for a clean shot. Their big forward planted himself in front of Ted. Guy was wearing a 1972 Team Canada jersey, the new Nike skates and a new Easton composite stick that cost four hundred dollars. Jerk.