“Oh, man. Good … I wasn’t sure. It’s hard to tell with you.”

Jack chuckled and said, “Of course I was joking.” Then his face became serious and he said, “You know, it would probably work.”

“Jack!”

Jack grinned and said, “Okay, okay. Plan B. How about we look at Arthur Goldie and his businesses and see if we can confirm our suspicions?”

“Shake the tree and see who falls out. Get an informant or something. Maybe the narcs will help out.”

“Exactly. Even if we are off base on who killed Melvin, either way, these guys could be good targets. I’ll talk with Rose and let —” Jack stopped to answer his cellphone. It was a nurse from the hospice.

“Appreciate ya comin’,” said Ophelia, staring up from her hospital bed at Jack. Her normal raspy voice sounded even worse. She tried to wiggle to a better position, so he adjusted her bed to raise her upper body, but suggested she lay still while he pulled up a chair.

“I should have come here sooner,” she said. Her voice crackled as she spoke, making her words difficult to hear. “The morph’ they’re giving me isn’t bad.”

“That’s good,” replied Jack. “Have you managed to steal any so you can sell it on the street later?”

A smile flittered across her face before she became serious. She stared at Jack for a moment before saying, “Guess you know this is the last time you’ll have to come and visit.”

“I don’t have to come here,” said Jack. “I’m here because I want to be here.”

“Yeah, well, I appreciate it. You being a cop, too. Go figure.”

“You’re not a bad person, Ophelia,” said Jack. “You’re sick, but you’re not bad. I’m sorry that life dealt you the hand it did.”

“Win some, lose some.” Ophelia coughed several times and briefly nodded off. A minute later she awoke with a start, perhaps afraid that she wouldn’t awaken. She was relieved to see that Jack was still there. “Lucky I’m dying in here rather than out on some pig farm. Things could be worse.”

Jack nodded, but for Ophelia he knew that things were never a lot better, either.

“So, how come you do come to see me? You don’t owe me nothin’.”

Jack looked intently at Ophelia and said, “I respect you for the kind of person you are. You’re the type who worries about people. For the kind of life you’ve had, it would be easy to use it as an excuse, but you don’t.”

“There’s somethin’ you’re not tellin’ me.”

“You’re a good person.”

Ophelia blinked her eyes a couple of times and said, “Thanks for seein’ me.”

“It’s no problem seeing you. My office isn’t that far away.”

“I don’t mean that. I mean for seein’ me.” Ophelia coughed some more, but didn’t take her eyes off of Jack’s face. She knew he didn’t understand. “Let me tell ya somethin’,” she said. “My last day on the street before you brought me in, I was feeling pretty sick. Just leaning against a doorway, too sick to turn a trick. Some lady walked past me with a boy, about five years old. The boy could tell I was sick and said, ‘Look, Mommy!’ The lady gave me a disgusted look, you know, like I was a pimple on the ass of society. Then she said, ‘Don’t stare, honey. That’s just nobody.’”

Jack stared at Ophelia, putting himself in her place.

“Guess what I’m tryin’ to say,” continued Ophelia, “is people who got it don’t give a shit about people who don’t. We’re nobodies.”

“I think you’re somebody.”

Ophelia’s face softened and she looked at Jack and said, “I’ve seen that in you. You’re different than most people. Guess what I’m asking is why?”

Jack swallowed, not sure how to respond.

“Come on,” prompted Ophelia. “I’m gonna croak before morning. It ain’t like I’m gonna tell anyone.”

Jack took the time to take a deep breath and then slowly exhaled. When he finished he said, “I had a sister who died of alcoholism — although that is like saying a bullet killed you instead of the person who pointed the gun at you and pulled the trigger.”

“So, who pulled the trigger?” asked Ophelia. “Your father?”

Jack nodded and said, “You’re pretty perceptive.”

“Perceptive!” snorted Ophelia. “Try experienced.”

Jack sighed and said, “Well, you’re right. Amongst other less than desirable traits, my father was a pedophile. When my sister escaped from home, she lived alone in a grubby trailer and was always taking in stray animals to look after. A friend of mine once saw her on the street and thought she was a homeless person. Basically, she was.” Jack stared at Ophelia for a moment, before acknowledging, “Maybe she is one of the reasons I look at some people differently. I don’t know. Some days I feel like I’ve seen too much suffering. Too much injustice.”

Ophelia reached toward Jack’s hand, so he leaned forward so she could hold it. Her grip was firm, but her flesh felt cold. Her organs were shutting down, including her heart.

“Thanks for telling me,” said Ophelia. “It was something I was always curious about. Helps explain why you let me get away with settin’ that guy up to be whacked with a tire iron that night.”

Jack shrugged and said, “That guy was going to turn a trick with a twelve-year-old kid. I don’t feel bad about letting you get away with it because of who you are inside. You’ve made a few slip-ups here and there. Who hasn’t? We’re all human. But in my books, you’re somebody. Somebody who made a positive difference in this world.”

He realized her grip on his hand had loosened. She was dead.

He never knew if she heard his last words or not.

12

It was Monday afternoon and the meeting in the boardroom was attended by investigators from I-HIT, the RCMP Drug Section, and the Intelligence Unit.

Jack and Laura gave an account of their findings, leading up to their theory about what happened to Angelo and Dominic.

CC rolled her eyes and said, “Thanks, Jack. I knew bringing you into this would add to the body count. Now you’re telling me that it’s not only Melvin Montgomery who was murdered, but you’re saying we’ve got two more bodies out there that we haven’t found yet?”

“Sorry about that,” replied Jack.

“Ah, it’s okay,” replied CC. “Was just spoofin’ ya. The both of you did good. Filled in some missing pieces of the puzzle. And as far as the bodies go, if there are any, unless we end up finding them on our turf, it could be Vancouver PD’s responsibility. I’ll bring them up to date on it later, but without any bodies, I’m not sure what they’ll do. Maybe they’ll interview the employee from the antique store.”

“Tell them to hold off on that,” said Jack. “I doubt they would get anything and the police attention could heat up the narcs on their UC operation.”

“I agree with Jack,” said Sammy, who was one of the investigators taking an active role in the undercover operation.

“Not a problem,” replied CC. “I’ll hold off. But where do you propose we go from here?”

“What about a wiretap?” suggested Jack, looking around the room.

“I’ll check with Crown,” replied CC, “but I think it is highly unlikely that we have the grounds to get one. How about getting one for drug trafficking?”

“We’ve got one on Jojo,” said Sammy. “So far he’s the biggest fish we’ve caught and even he is small compared to what we know about some of the big players who frequent Goldie’s. As far as the wire on Jojo goes, it hasn’t been all that productive. He likes pay phones followed up with a lot of heat checks before meeting anyone face-to-face. Even after the heat checks, if we’re lucky enough that he hasn’t spotted our surveillance, when he does meet someone, he has a habit of meeting several people over a space of a few minutes in places like restaurants, nightclubs, or bars. That makes it difficult to figure out which person is of importance and which one is just a casual acquaintance. With what we have so far, there are absolutely no grounds for us to get a wiretap on anyone else.”