Jack and Laura both smiled at Giorgetta as she peered out a side window of her house before opening the door.

“Hi,” said Jack. “We’re friends of Angelo and Dominic. Are they around?”

“My boys don’t live here no more,” replied Giorgetta, suspiciously. “Who are you? What do you want?”

“We’re friends of theirs. Met them in Vancouver a couple of years ago before I moved to Cranbrook. I owe them some money for some stuff they gave me to fence … I mean, sell, in Cranbrook. They gave me your address and said I could always contact them through you.”

“Yeah? Is that a fact? When did you last talk to them?”

“Sometime last fall when they called me. They didn’t say much on the phone, but are anxious to get the money I owe them. I’ve got it now.”

“You’re a fuckin’ liar!” replied Giorgetta, spitting out the words.

“What?” replied Jack in surprise, while wiping his face with the back of his sleeve.

“You’re a fuckin’ liar! My sons have been dead for over two years!” She looked at Jack in disgust and said, “You fuckin’ cops … they may have been troubled boys, but they always called on Mother’s Day, even when they were in jail. They haven’t called in over two years. I know they’re dead. So, fuck off, cops!”

11

It was mid-morning on Thursday when Kang Lee spoke briefly with The Shaman as they walked toward the Avitat Lounge at the South Terminal of the Vancouver International Airport. Da Khlot and Sayomi trailed behind, out of earshot.

“I wish you a pleasant flight,” said Lee. “I look forward to the day when I shall accompany you home.”

“The day will arrive soon enough.”

“With Mister Goldie’s eagerness to fill my position, perhaps it could be sooner than six months? He is intelligent. I am sure he will learn fast.”

“And Mister Wang? Any indication that he was unhappy because he wasn’t chosen?”

“Not at all. He is happy in his own pond and agrees that Mister Goldie is better suited. In fact, when I met with them both, Mister Goldie displayed dismay at being slow in developing the market back east. Mister Wang volunteered that a couple of his associates would be moving to Montreal and might later be in a position to assist Mister Goldie. Their spirit of co-operation with each other and our organization appears to be good.”

“And what about Mister Goldie’s replacement? Do you think Mister Wang is capable of handling both functions?”

“No, Mister Wang indicates that he is busy enough. However, Mister Goldie says he has several reliable people in mind to choose from who would be suitable.”

“People he says are reliable depend upon his own reliability,” said The Shaman.

“He did not hesitate when I told him he would be required to take a lie detector test.”

“And, I presume, with the knowledge he will have acquired about our corporation, he knows what would happen should he fail such a test?”

“He does.”

“Still, Mister Goldie is not a family man. Something I consider an important asset to ensure loyalty. With him, I foresee an annual lie detector evaluation, combined with further assignments to ensure his sincerity. In the meantime, six months is not long. Haste brings mistakes. You must be absolutely certain he is the right man for the position before you vacate it. If he is not the right man, then we will find a new one. I would find no fault with you should such a decision be necessary prior to the six months.”

Lee nodded quietly.

“I know you are anxious to return to your family.”

“That is true,” lamented Lee.

“You know they will continue to be watched and well looked after. I recognize that you have worked hard. Your family has been rewarded accordingly. Do not spoil what you have,” added The Shaman with a subtle glance behind him, “by making a mistake.”

“I understand,” replied Lee, envisioning Da Khlot’s expressionless dark eyes watching his own family. The family he longed to be with.

It was late Friday afternoon when Laura dropped some documents onto Jack’s desk. “Your theory may be right,” she said. “Company checks — take a look.”

Jack looked at the documents and saw that two antique stores were owned by an Arthur Goldie, who also owned a Vancouver nightclub called Goldie Locks. It was Goldie’s employee who had been shot in the arm two years ago. Neither the employee nor Arthur Goldie had any criminal record.

“I talked to the narcs,” said Laura. “They told me they currently have an ongoing undercover operation targeting heroin at the ounce level. Last week, one of the operators bought a quarter-pound from a dealer by the name of Jojo. The narcs followed him after the order was placed and he went to the Goldie Locks nightclub for a few minutes. He then met the operator an hour later at a McDonald’s restaurant and did the deal.”

“Did they see who Jojo met in the nightclub?”

“They said he met with numerous people. The narcs couldn’t tell who was involved with the deal.”

“Could be a coincidence,” said Jack. “Maybe Jojo went to see who was around to party with him after his sale.”

“You won’t think it’s a coincidence after you read these next reports,” said Laura, handing Jack some more papers.

Jack scanned the reports and saw that Goldie Locks nightclub had come up in numerous wiretaps and drug investigations over the years as a common meeting spot for several high-level heroin dealers, including the heroin dealer tortured and murdered by Angelo and Dominic.

“Love it!” said Jack, with a smile. “Too big of a coincidence for Angelo and Dominic to torture a drug dealer and rob an antique store later the same day. Especially when both places are owned by the same person. In my books, Arthur Goldie is dirty.”

“Proving it will be another story,” said Laura.

“Angelo and Dominic tried to rob some people connected to the big league,” mused Jack. “My guess is the antique store employee is, or was, a money bagman for the organization. In fact, with him making the store’s deposits, you can bet that his real job is to transport drug money. Our two Italian brothers found out that the dealer they tortured had just done a deal. Maybe they were hired for protection by whoever was doing the buying. Bet they grabbed the dealer later and when he didn’t have the money, they tortured him to find out who did. The dealer then gave them the name of the bagman from the antique store.”

“You could be right on that account,” said Laura. “I agree we could be on to something big as far as drugs go, but how did the gun used by Angelo and Dominic end up being used to kill Melvin? And why?”

Jack paused as he scanned the reports again, hoping an answer would jump out at him. It didn’t. “I don’t know,” he said. “If the brothers are dead … and after talking with dear old mom, I tend to think they are, then —”

“Maybe she lied and said they were dead so we would stop looking.”

“Didn’t get that sense, did you?” asked Jack.

“No,” admitted Laura. “She seemed genuine. Plus the brothers aren’t all that bright. If they were alive, I think they would have been located.”

“I agree. Following that logic, I think they’re dead because of who they tried to rob. Their bodies haven’t been found, which means whoever killed them may have inherited the gun. If their bodies were dumped in an alley, then anyone could have come along and picked over the remains like vultures. We need to find out who killed them.”

“Any ideas how?” asked Laura.

“Find the employee from the antique store and put a bullet through his other arm. See who comes after us.”

Jack saw Laura’s concerned look and quickly added, “Don’t take me seriously! I’m joking.”