“Those guys came down several times. They left these samples with Cal,” Vernon said.
I picked one bag and examined the tablet. There was nothing unusual about it. No distinguishing marks, symbols, or signs on it. To me it looked like a prescription drug your pharmacist would give you.
“The orange ones were the first sample they brought. The green second, and then the brown,” Vernon said.
“When did they bring the brown one?” I said.
“Last week. They said their drug was still in process.”
“Why leave samples with your brother-in-law?” Beadsworth inquired.
“They wanted to prove that they had a genuine product, I guess. They were refining it. I think they wanted it to be more addictive.”
“Have you tried it?” I asked.
“No way!” he spat. “You crazy? This stuff could be anything.”
“Why do you have it?” I asked.
“Cal didn’t want to keep it. What if he got raided or something? If the cops found it they’d shut down his business.”
“Why didn’t you get rid of it?”
“Cal wanted me to hold on to the stuff so that if he ever got in trouble I would give it to the cops.”
“Have they given samples to owners of other clubs?” Beadsworth said.
“Probably. But they keep coming back to the House of Jam.”
“Why is that?” I said.
He looked at me as if I had just crawled out of a hole. “You’ve never been to the House of Jam?”
I shrugged no. I looked at Beadsworth, hoping he hadn’t either.
“House of Jam is the hottest place in Toronto,” Vernon said. “Everyone goes there.”
I didn’t. Should I tell him I don’t get out much?
“Celebrities, athletes, business executives, everyone goes there, man. It’s the best place to build a diverse clientele.” Vernon leaned closer. “Drugs are part of the music biz. It’s the one place where people are more open to try new things.”
“We’re going to take these samples,” Beadsworth said, not asking.
“Yeah, sure. Whatever.”
“We would also like to visit the club,” Beadsworth said.
“Hey, man, no cops,” he stood up. “We don’t want to be part of this.”
“You’re already part of it,” Beadsworth said. I was amazed at how calm he always was. Is that a British thing?
Vernon scratched his head and made a twisted face.
“If this thing gets into the market, you better believe your business is going to suffer,” Beadsworth insisted.
Vernon nodded. “Come down Friday night. I’m playing there,” he said. “You can meet Cal there also.”
“What’s his full name?” Beadsworth asked.
“Calvert Murray.”
We got up to leave.
“One more question,” I said. Beadsworth looked at me oddly. “How can you afford a place like this?” I asked.
“You mean as a DJ?” Vernon replied.
I nodded. “Nice place. Expensive, though.”
“I’ll show you something,” he said and disappeared.
Alone, Beadsworth said, “Why did you bring that up?”
“Come on. You wanted to know, too,” I replied.
Vernon came back holding an album. He placed it on the coffee table and began taking out newspaper articles. There were articles from different countries in different languages. “I’m the best DJ in Toronto and Canada for that matter,” Vernon beamed. “I’m also the second best DJ in the world.” He pulled out one article, which was in a language I couldn’t identify. “In the Frankfurt Hip Hop Festival I came in second. I think it was rigged. They wanted the Swedish guy to win from the beginning. His beats weren’t crisp enough, you know what I mean?”
I nodded absentmindedly.
“But those German fans were wild. I had a blast.”
“Second best,” I said. “So you can make good money doing this?”
“Yeah, sure. But you gotta first find a new beat. Your unique style, you know. Each time you gotta take it a step further, elevate the music so that no one can do it except you. Master it, you know what I mean?”
I nodded. I had no idea what the man was talking.
“There are so many freestyle competitions around the world where you can make serious money.”
“Serious money.” I turned to Beadsworth. “That’s what I want to do. Make serious money.”
“You into music?” Vernon asked. “What kind?”
I stumbled. “Um, all kinds. You know, techno, jazz…opera.”
“Diverse.” Vernon nodded to himself. “You could probably do it,” he said. “Just come up with a cool name. Experiment and find your own style, man. That’s all.”
“Cool name, eh?” I said. I thought about it. “How about DJ Crimefighter,” I turned to Beadsworth and gave a thumbs up.
“How about DJ Bigmouth,” he shot back.
“Not bad,” Vernon said.
“We have to go,” Beadsworth said. “Tell your brother-in-law we’ll meet him on Friday.”
Back in the elevator, I said, “DJ Bigmouth? I can’t believe you would say that. I was serious.”
“So was I,” he replied.
TEN
After dropping off the samples at the Toronto Drug Analysis Service Laboratory, or DAS, for short, we drove back to Scarborough where Nemdharry and Terries were observing the export company. We met a block away. Nemdharry was drinking coffee and Terries was in the unmarked cruiser. She stepped out once she saw us.
“Anything?” Beadsworth asked.
“The building contains eight units.” Nemdharry read from a small piece of paper. “Two dental offices, one used-parts wholesaler, two clothing wholesalers, our export company, and two vacancies. But the management said one unit might be leased by the end of the week.”
“Doesn’t seem like the best place to start a clandestine laboratory,” Beadsworth said.
“No, it doesn’t. In the morning a white U-Haul truck came and went around the back. It left forty-five minutes later.”
“Do you know where?’
“No idea. We’re timing the schedule. Hopefully, we’ll make out a pattern. What’s surprising is that when I was talking to the manager of the building, I happened to walk past that unit and there was no smell. No chemicals burning in the back.”
“What does the front look like?” Beadsworth asked.
Terries spoke, “It has nothing except for a sign that says LLPM Imports amp; Exports, and a receptionist. No chairs, and the back area is entirely sealed off.”
“Then why have a receptionist?” I said.
Terries answered, “I think it’s just to show they are a legitimate company. While I was there the receptionist didn’t get a single call.”
Beadsworth wiped something off his coat and then said, “We believe we have a sample.”
“Nex?” Terries said.
“We’re not sure. It could be anything.”
“What does it look like?” she asked.
“Like Ecstasy.”
“Shit,” Nemdharry said. “Where is it?”
“We dropped it off at DAS. We’ll find what’s in it. I would like to talk to the owner of this coffee shop.”
“Yeah, sure,” Nemdharry said.
They left Terries and I at the car and walked down the street.
We were alone.
There was silence.
I looked at my feet and she was looking away.
I had to say something. “So you like the job?” I asked.
“It’s not bad. A good learning experience,” she said, smiling.
Silence again.
“How about you?” she said.
“Yes, good learning experience.” I found I couldn’t think of anything clever to say. My mind was frozen. I tried to stay cool, calm, and collected. I leaned on the car and looked across to the many shops lining the street.
There was a Laundromat, a drycleaners, and a convenience store at the corner. Beside the convenience store there were a couple of guys trying to place a sign above the window. The sign read: BUBBLE T SHOP.
“Have you ever tried bubble tea?” I turned to Terries.
“No, really.”
“Neither have I. Maybe someday we could try it together.” I stopped. I couldn’t believe I had just said that. I looked away not wanting to hear what she was going to say next.